A_White_Heron_-_Jewett,_part_4

A White Heron

Sarah Orne Jewett

I

The woods were already filled with shadows one June evening, just before eight

o’clock, though a bright sunset still glimmered faintly among the trunks of the trees. A little girl was driving home her cow, a plodding, dilatory, provoking creature in her be-havior, but a valued companion for all that. They were going away from whatever light there was, and striking deep into the woods, but their feet were familiar with the path, and it was no matter whether their eyes could see it or not.

There was hardly a night the summer through when the old cow could be found wait-ing at the pasture bars; on the contrary, it was her greatest pleasure to hide herself away among the huckleberry bushes, and though she wore a loud bell she had made the discovery that if one stood perfectly still it would not ring. So Sylvia had to hunt for her until she found her, and call Co’! Co’! with never an answering Moo, until her child-ish patience was quite spent. If the creature had not given good milk and plenty of it, the case would have seemed very different to her owners. Besides, Sylvia had all the time there was, and very little use to make of it. Sometimes in pleasant weather it was a consolation to look upon the cow’s pranks as an intelligent attempt to play hide-and-seek, and as the child had no playmates she lent herself to this amusement with a good deal of zest. Though this chase had been so long that the wary animal herself had given an unusual signal of her whereabouts, Sylvia had only laughed when she came upon Mistress Moolly at the swampside, and urged her affectionately homeward with a twig of birch leaves. The old cow was not inclined to wander farther, she even turned in the right direction for once as they left the pasture, and stepped along the road at a good pace. She was quite ready to be milked now, and seldom stopped to browse. Sylvia wondered what her grandmother would say because they were so late. It was a great while since she had left home at half-past five o’clock, but everybody knew the difficulty of making this errand a short one. Mrs. Tilley had chased the hornèd torment too many summer evenings herself to blame any one else for lingering, and was only thankful as she waited that she had Sylvia, nowadays, to give such valuable assistance. The good woman suspected that Sylvia loitered occasionally on her own account; there never was such a child for straying about out-of-doors since the world was made! Everybody said that it was a good change for a little maid who had tried to grow for eight years in a crowded manufacturing town, but, as for Sylvia herself, it seemed as if she never had been alive at all before she came to live at the farm. She thought often with wistful com-passion of a wretched geranium that belonged to a town neighbor.

“‘Afraid of folks,’” old Mrs. Tilley said to herself, with a smile, after she had made the unlikely choice of Sylvia from her daughter’s houseful of children, and was returning to the farm. “ ‘Afraid of folks,’ they said! I guess she won’t be troubled no great with ’em

up to the old place!” When they reached the door of the lonely house and stopped to un-lock it, and the cat came to purr loudly, and rub against them, a deserted pussy, in-deed, but fat with young robins, Sylvia whispered that this was a beautiful place to live in, and she never should wish to go home.

The companions followed the shady wood road, the cow taking slow steps and the child very fast ones. The cow stopped long at the brook to drink, as if the pasture were not half a swamp, and Sylvia stood still and waited, letting her bare feet cool themselves

in the shoal water, while the great twilight moths struck softly against her. She waded on through the brook as the cow moved away, and listened to the thrushes with a heart that beat fast with pleasure. There was a stirring in the great boughs overhead. They were full of little birds and beasts that seemed to be wide awake, and going about their world, or else saying good night to each other in sleepy twitters. Sylvia herself felt sleepy as she walked along. However, it was not much farther to the house, and the air was soft and sweet. She was not often in the woods so late as this, and it made her feel as if she were a part of the gray shadows and the moving leaves. She was just thinking how long it seemed since she first came to the farm a year ago, and wondering if everything went on in the noisy town just the same as when she was there; the thought of the great red-faced boy who used to chase and frighten her made her hurry along the path to es-cape from the shadow of the trees.

Suddenly this little woods-girl is horror-stricken to hear a clear whistle not very far away. Not a bird’s whistle, which would have a sort of friendliness, but a boy’s whistle, determined, and somewhat aggressive. Sylvia left the cow to whatever sad fate might await her, and stepped discreetly aside into the bushes, but she was just too late.

The enemy had discovered her, and called out in a very cheerful and persuasive tone,“Halloa, little girl, how far is it to the road?” and trembling Sylvia answered almost in-audibly, “A good ways.”

She did not dare to look boldly at the tall young man, who carried a gun over his shoulder, but she came out of her bush and followed the cow, while he walked along-side.

“I have been hunting for some birds,” the stranger said kindly, “and I have lost my way, and need a friend very much. Don’t be afraid,” he added gallantly. “Speak up and tell me what your name is, and whether you think I can spend the night at your house, and go out gunning early in the morning.”

Sylvia was more alarmed than before. Would not her grandmother consider her much to blame? But who could have foreseen such an accident as this? It did not seem to be her fault, and she hung her head as if the stem of it were broken, but managed to an-swer “Sylvy,” with much effort when her companion again asked her name.

Mrs. Tilley was standing in the doorway when the trio came into view. The cow gave a loud moo by way of explanation.

“Yes, you’d better speak up for yourself, you old trial! Where’d she tucked herself away this time, Sylvy?” But Sylvia kept an awed silence; she knew by instinct that her grandmother did not comprehend the gravity of the situation. She must be mistaking the stranger for one of the farmer-lads of the region.

The young man stood his gun beside the door, and dropped a lumpy game bag beside it; then he bade Mrs. Tilley good evening, and repeated his wayfarer’s story, and asked if he could have a night’s lodging.

“Put me anywhere you like,” he said. “I must be off early in the morning, before day; but I am very hungry, indeed. You can give me some milk at any rate, that’s plain.”

“Dear sakes, yes,” responded the hostess, whose long slumbering hospitality seemed to be easily awakened. “You might fare better if you went out to the main road a mile or so, but you’re welcome to what we’ve got. I’ll milk right off, and you make yourself at home. You can sleep on husks or feathers,” she proffered graciously. “I raised them all myself. There’s good pasturing for geese just below here toward the ma’sh. Now step round and set a plate for the gentleman, Sylvy!” And Sylvia promptly stepped. She was glad to have something to do, and she was hungry herself.

It was a surprise to find so clean and comfortable a little dwelling in this New Eng-land wilderness. The young man had known the horrors of its most primitive house-keeping, and the dreary squalor of that level of society which does not rebel at the com-panionship of hens. This was the best thrift of an old-fashioned farmstead, though on such a small scale that it seemed like a hermitage. He listened eagerly to the old woman’s quaint talk, he watched Sylvia’s pale face and shining gray eyes with ever

growing enthusiasm, and insisted that this was the best supper he had eaten for a month, and afterward the new-made friends sat down in the doorway together while the moon came up.

Soon it would be berrytime, and Sylvia was a great help at picking. The cow was a good milker, though a plaguy thing to keep track of, the hostess gossiped frankly, adding presently that she had buried four children, so Sylvia’s mother, and a son (who might be dead) in California were all the children she had left. “Dan, my boy, was a great hand to go gunning,” she explained sadly. “I never wanted for pa’tridges or gray squer’ls while he was to home. He’s been a great wand’rer, I expect and he’s no hand to write letters. There, I don’t blame him, I’d ha’ seen the world myself if it had been so I could.”

“Sylvy takes after him,” the grandmother continued affectionately, after a minute’s pause. “There ain’t a foot o’ ground she don’t know her way over, and the wild creatures counts her one o’ themselves.

Squer’ls she’ll tame to come an’ feed right out o’ her hands, and all sorts o’ birds. Last winter she got the jay birds to bangeing here, and I believe she’d ’a’ scanted herself of her own meals to have plenty to throw out amongst ’em, if I hadn’t kep’ watch. Anything but crows, I tell her, I’m willin’ to help support—though Dan he had a tamed one o’them that did seem to have reason same as folks. It was round here a good spell after he went away. Dan an’ his father they didn’t hitch— but he never held up his head ag’in after Dan had dared him an’ gone off.”

The guest did not notice this hint of family sorrows in his eager interest in something else.

“So Sylvy knows all about birds, does she?” he exclaimed, as he looked round at the little girl who sat, very demure but increasingly sleepy, in the moonlight. “I am making a collection of birds myself. I have been at it ever since I was a boy.” (Mrs. Tilley smiled.)“There are two or three very rare ones I have been hunting for these five years. I mean to get them if they can be found.”

“Do you cage ’em up?” asked Mrs. Tilley doubtfully, in response to this enthusiastic announcement.

“Oh no, they’re stuffed and preserved, dozens and dozens of them,” said the ornithol-ogist, “and I have shot or snared every one myself. I caught a glimpse of a white heron a few miles from here on Saturday, and I have followed it in this direction. They have never been found in this district at all. The little white heron, it is,” and he turned again to look at Sylvia with the hope of discovering that the rare bird was one of her acquain-tances.

But Sylvia was watching a hop-toad in the narrow footpath.

“You would know the heron if you saw it,” the stranger continued eagerly. “A queer tall white bird with soft feathers and long thin legs.

And it would have a nest perhaps in the top of a high tree, made of sticks, something like a hawk’s nest.”

Sylvia’s heart gave a wild beat; she knew that strange white bird, and had once stolen softly near where it stood in some bright green swamp grass, away over at the other side of the woods. There was an open place where the sunshine always seemed strangely yel-low and hot, where tall, nodding rushes grew, and her grandmother had warned her that she might sink in the soft black mud underneath and never be heard of more. Not far beyond were the salt marshes just this side of the sea itself, which Sylvia wondered and dreamed much about, but never had seen, whose great voice could sometimes be heard above the noise of the woods on stormy nights.

“I can’t think of anything I should like so much as to find that heron’s nest,” the handsome stranger was saying. “I would give ten dollars to anybody who could show it to me,” he added desperately, “and I mean to spend my whole vacation hunting for it. Perhaps it was only migrating, or had been chased out of its own region by some bird of prey.”

Mrs. Tilley gave amazed attention to all this, but Sylvia still watched the toad, not di-vining, as she might have done at some calmer time, that the creature wished to get to its hole under the doorstep, and was much hindered by the unusual spectators at that hour of the evening. No amount of thought, that night, could decide how many trea-sures the ten dollars, so lightly spoken of, would buy.

The next day the young sportsman hovered about the woods, and Sylvia kept him company, having lost her first fear of the friendly lad, who proved to be most kind and sympathetic. He told her many things about the birds and what they knew and where they lived and what they did with themselves. And he gave her a jackknife, which she thought as great a treasure as if she were a desert islander. All day long he did not once make her troubled or afraid except when he brought down some unsuspecting singing creature from its bough. Sylvia would have liked him vastly better without his gun; she could not understand why he killed the very birds he seemed to like so much. But as the day waned, Sylvia still watched the young man with loving admiration. She had never seen anybody so charming and delightful; the woman’s heart, asleep in the child, was vaguely thrilled by a dream of love. Some premonition of that great power stirred and swayed these young creatures who traversed the solemn woodlands with soft-footed silent care. They stopped to listen to a bird’s song; they pressed forward again eagerly, parting the branches—speaking to each other rarely and in whispers; the young man going first and Sylvia following, fascinated, with her gray eyes dark with excitement.

She grieved because the longed-for white heron was elusive, but she did not lead the guest, she only followed, and there was no such thing as speaking first. The sound of her own unquestioned voice would have terrified her—it was hard enough to answer yes or no when there was need of that. At last evening began to fall, and they drove the cow home, and Sylvia smiled with pleasure when they came to the place where she heard the whistle and was afraid only the night before.

II

Half a mile from home, at the farther edge of the woods, where the land was highest, a great pine tree stood, the last of its generation. Whether it was left for a boundary mark, or for what reason, no one could say; the woodchoppers who had felled its mates were dead and gone long ago, and a whole forest of sturdy trees, pines and oaks and maples, had grown again. But the stately head of this old pine towered above them all and made a landmark for sea and shore miles and miles away. Sylvia knew it well. She had always believed that whoever climbed to the top of it could see the ocean; and the little girl had often laid her hand on the great rough trunk and looked up wistfully at those dark boughs that the wind always stirred, no matter how hot and still the air might be below. Now she thought of the tree with a new excitement, for why, if one climbed it at break of day could not one see all the world, and easily discover from whence the white heron flew, and mark the place, and find the hidden nest?

What a spirit of adventure, what wild ambition! What fancied triumph and delight and glory for the later morning when she could make known the secret! It was almost too real and too great for the childish heart to bear.

All night the door of the little house stood open and the whippoorwills came and sang upon the very step. The young sportsman and his old hostess were sound asleep, but Sylvia’s great design kept her broad awake and watching. She forgot to think of sleep. The short summer night seemed as long as the winter darkness, and at last when the whippoorwills ceased, and she was afraid the morning would after all come too soon, she stole out of the house and followed the pasture path through the woods, hastening toward the open ground beyond, listening with a sense of comfort and companionship to the drowsy twitter of a half-awakened bird, whose perch she had jarred in passing.

Alas, if the great wave of human interest which flooded for the first time this dull little life should sweep away the satisfactions of an existence heart-to-heart with nature and the dumb life of the forest!

There was the huge tree asleep yet in the paling moonlight, and small and silly Sylvia began with utmost bravery to mount to the top of it, with tingling, eager blood coursing the channels of her whole frame, with her bare feet and fingers, that pinched and held like bird’s claws to the monstrous ladder reaching up, up, almost to the sky itself. First she must mount the white oak tree that grew alongside, where she was almost lost among the dark branches and the green leaves heavy and wet with dew; a bird fluttered off its nest, and a red squirrel ran to and fro and scolded pettishly at the harmless housebreaker. Sylvia felt her way easily. She had often climbed there, and knew that higher still one of the oak’s upper branches chafed against the pine trunk. There, when she made the dangerous pass from one tree to the other, the great enterprise would re-ally begin.

She crept out along the swaying oak limb at last, and took the daring step across into the old pine tree. The way was harder than she thought; she must reach far and hold fast, the sharp dry twigs caught and held her and scratched her like angry talons, the pitch made her thin little fingers clumsy and stiff as she went round and round the tree’s great stem, higher and higher upward. The sparrows and robins in the woods below were beginning to wake and twitter to the dawn, yet it seemed much lighter there aloft in the pine tree, and the child knew she must hurry if the project were to be of any use.

The tree seemed to lengthen itself out as she went up, and to reach farther and far-ther upward. It was like a great mainmast to the voyaging earth; it must truly have been amazed that morning through all its ponderous frame as it felt this determined spark of human spirit wending its way from higher branch to branch. Who knows how steadily the least twigs held themselves to advantage this light, weak creature on her way! The old pine must have loved his new dependent.

More than all the hawks, and bats, and moths, and even the sweet-voiced thrushes, was the brave, beating heart of the solitary gray-eyed child. And the tree stood still and frowned away the winds that June morning while the dawn grew bright in the east.

Sylvia’s face was like a pale star, if one had seen it from the ground, when the last thorny bough was past, and she stood trembling and tired but wholly triumphant, high in the treetop. Yes, there was the sea with the dawning sun making a golden dazzle over it, and toward that glorious east flew two hawks with slow-moving pinions. How low they looked in the air from that height when one had only seen them before far up, and dark against the blue sky. Their gray feathers were as soft as moths; they seemed only a little way from the tree, and Sylvia felt as if she too could go flying away among the clouds. Westward, the woodlands and farms reached miles and miles into the distance; here and there were church steeples, and white villages, truly it was a vast and awe-some world!

The birds sang louder and louder. At last the sun came up bewilderingly bright. Sylvia could see the white sails of ships out at sea, and the clouds that were purple and rose-colored and yellow at first began to fade away. Where was the white heron’s nest in the sea of green branches, and was this wonderful sight and pageant of the world the only reward for having climbed to such a giddy height?

Now look down again, Sylvia, where the green marsh is set among the shining birches and dark hemlocks; there where you saw the white heron once you will see him again; look, look! a white spot of him like a single floating feather comes up from the dead hem-lock and grows larger, and rises, and comes close at last, and goes by the landmark pine with steady sweep of wing and outstretched slender neck and crested head. And wait!

wait! do not move a foot or a finger, little girl, do not send an arrow of light and conscious-ness from your two eager eyes, for the heron has perched on a pine bough not far beyond yours, and cries back to his mate on the nest and plumes his feathers for the day!

The child gives a long sigh a minute later when a company of shouting catbirds comes also to the tree, and vexed by their fluttering and lawlessness the solemn heron goes away. She knows his secret now, the wild, light, slender bird that floats and wa-vers, and goes back like an arrow presently to his home in the green world beneath. Then Sylvia, well satisfied, makes her perilous way down again, not daring to look far below the branch she stands on, ready to cry sometimes because her fingers ache and her lamed feet slip. Wondering over and over again what the stranger would say to her, and what he would think when she told him how to find his way straight to the heron’s nest.

“Sylvy, Sylvy!” called the busy old grandmother again and again, but nobody an-swered, and the small husk bed was empty and Sylvia had disappeared.

The guest waked from a dream, and remembering his day’s pleasure hurried to dress himself that might it sooner begin. He was sure from the way the shy little girl looked once or twice yesterday that she had at least seen the white heron, and now she must really be made to tell. Here she comes now, paler than ever, and her worn old frock is torn and tattered, and smeared with pine pitch. The grandmother and the sportsman stand in the door together and question her, and the splendid moment has come to speak of the dead hemlock tree by the green marsh.

But Sylvia does not speak after all, though the old grandmother fretfully rebukes her, and the young man’s kind, appealing eyes are looking straight in her own. He can make them rich with money; he has promised it, and they are poor now. He is so well worth making happy, and he waits to hear the story.

No, she must keep silence! What is it that suddenly forbids her and makes her dumb? Has she been nine years growing and now, when the great world for the first time puts out a hand to her, must she thrust it aside for a bird’s sake? The murmur of the pine’s green branches is in her ears, she remembers how the white heron came fly-ing through the golden air and how they watched the sea and the morning together, and Sylvia cannot speak; she cannot tell the heron’s secret and give its life away.

Dear loyalty, that suffered a sharp pang as the guest went away disappointed later in the day, that could have served and followed him and loved him as a dog loves! Many a night Sylvia heard the echo of his whistle haunting the pasture path as she came home with the loitering cow. She forgot even her sorrow at the sharp report of his gun and the sight of thrushes and sparrows dropping silent to the ground, their songs hushed and their pretty feathers stained and wet with blood. Were the birds better friends than their hunter might have been—who can tell? Whatever treasures were lost to her, woodlands and summertime, remember! Bring your gifts and graces and tell your secrets to this lonely country child!

常用手掌动作训练方法有哪些

常用手掌动作训练方法有哪些 不管是在演讲中，还是在现实生活与工作的交流沟通中，手掌的运用是最普及、最常见、最频繁的，它是手势语的主角和态势语的重头戏。下面小雅为你整理常用手掌动作训练方法，希望能帮到你。 一套常用的手掌动作，共有以下11种： (1)伸手(手心向上，前臂略直，手掌向前平伸)--表示请求、交流、许诺、谦逊、承认、赞美、希望、欢迎、诚实等意思。 伸手训练：“人活在世上，谁不希望自己的一生过得有意义、有价值一些呢?”“自己活着，就是为了使别人生活得更美好!” (2)抬手(手心向上，手臂微曲，手掌与肩齐高)--表示号召、唤起、祈求、激动、愤怒、强调等。 抬手训练：“尊敬的各位领导、各位来宾，亲爱的同学们，大家早上好!”“给人民当牛做马的人，人民把他抬得很高很 高!” (3)举手(五指朝天，前臂垂直，手掌举至头部)--表示行动、肯定、激昂、动情、歌颂等 举手训练：“人生的价值在于奉献，生命的真谛在于创 造!”“经验证明，能使大多数人得到幸福的人，他本身也是幸福的。”

(4)挥手(手臂向前，手掌向上挥动)--表示激励、鼓动、号召、呼吁、前进、致意等。 挥手训练：“努力吧!奋斗吧!我们的明天一定会更加美 好!”“同志们，朋友们：让我们在爱国主义的旗帜指引下奋勇前进吧!” (5)推手(手心向前，前臂直伸)--表示坚决、制止，果断、拒绝、排斥、势不可挡等意。 推手训练：“不!不能这样!这不是我们的逻辑!”“谁不属于自己的祖国，那么他也就不属于人类。” (6)压手(手心向下，前臂下压至下区)--表示要安静、停止、反对、压抑、悲观或气愤等。 压手训练：“时间就是生命，无端地浪费别人的时间，其实是无异于谋财害命的。”“谁若把金钱看得比荣誉还尊贵，谁就会从高贵降到低贱。” (7)摆手(手心对外，前臂上举至中区上部)--表示反感、蔑视、否认、失望、不屑一顾等。 摆手训练：“一个人的价值，应该看他贡献什么，而不应当看他取得什么。”“凡在小事上对真理持轻率态度的人，在大事上也是不可信任的。” (8)心手(五指并拢、弯曲，自然放在胸前)--表示自己、祝愿、愿望、希望、心情、心态等。

手语学习图解

武汉长江职业学院青年志愿者协会实践服务部手语培训班手语图解学习资料手语基础（一）

手语基础二： 习拼音字母可以有助于今后的举一反三，也是手语的基础 手语基础三：

1、我————一手食指指着自己。 2、你————一手食指指向对方。 3、他————一手食指指向侧方第三者。 4、我们————一手食指先指胸部，然后掌心向下，在胸前平行转一圈。 5、你们————一手食指先指向对方，然后掌心向下，在胸前平行转一圈。 6、他们———一手食指指向侧方第三者，然后掌心向下，在胸前平行转一圈。 7、自己————一手伸食指，指尖向上，贴于胸前。 8、大家————一手掌心向下，在胸前平行转一圈。 9、谁————一手伸食指，指尖向上，在背前前摇动。 10、男————一手直立，五指并拢在头侧自后向前挥动，以“短发”表示男子。 11、女（姑娘）——一手拇、食指捏耳垂，象征耳环，泛指妇女（凡女性均用此手势）。 12、婴儿————双手掌心向内，一上一下，虚置胸前，作抱婴儿状。 13、小孩（少年、儿童）——一手平伸，掌心向下，在胸前向下微按（根据小孩、儿童、少年不同身高而决定手的高低）。 14、青年————一手掌心在下巴无胡须来表示青年。 15、老人————①一手在下巴作理胡须动作，以长胡须来表示老。 ②双手食指搭成“人”字形。 16、父亲（爸爸）————一手伸拇指贴在嘴唇上。 17、母亲（妈妈）————一手伸食指贴在嘴唇上。 18、哥哥————一手先伸中指贴于嘴唇上，再改伸掌直立，在头侧自前挥动，即“男”手语。 19、姐姐————一手先伸中指贴于嘴唇上，然后改以拇、食指捏耳垂。 20、妹妹————一手先伸小指贴于嘴唇上，再打“女”手势。 21、男孩（儿子）——①同“男”手势。 ②同“小孩”手势。 22、女孩（女儿）——①同“女”手势。 ②同“小孩”手势。 21、女士————①同“女”手势。 ②一手食指书空“士”。 22、男士————①同“女”手势。 ②一手食指书空“士”。 23、同志————一手伸食、中指，手背向上，在胸前平行挥动两下。 24、同学————①同“同志”手势。 ②双手伸掌，掌心向内赃物于胸前，如读书状。 25、朋友————双手伸拇指互碰几下，表示友谊。 26、先生————一手伸拇指，贴于胸前，表示尊敬。 27、工人————①一手食、中指与另一手食指搭成“工”字形。 ②双手食指搭成“人”字形。 28、商人————①双手平伸，掌心向上，在胸前交互转动，象征买卖。 ②双手食指搭成“人”字形。 29、教师————①双手五指撮合，指尖相对，在胸前摇动几下，意即“传授”。 ②一手伸拇指贴于胸前。 30、医生————①一手食、中、无名指按于另一手脉门处，如中医搭脉状。 ②一手伸拇指贴于胸前。

中国手语一百句图解文档

第一课问候 1.你（您）好。 你：一手食指指向对方。 好：一手握拳，向上伸出拇指。 2.早上好。 早上：一手四指与拇指相捏，手背向上横放胸前，缓缓向上抬起，五指逐渐张开，象征天色由暗转明。 3.你好吗？ 吗：右手食指书空“？”形。表情是疑问式的。眼睛看着对方，眉微扬，希望得到对方的回复。 4.很好，谢谢。 很：一手拇指指尖抵于食指跟部，向下一沉。谢谢：一手伸出拇指，弯曲两下，表示向人感谢。 第二课介绍 5.你叫什么名字？ 叫：一手拇指与四指作“└”形，虎口贴于嘴边，张开嘴，作喊叫状。 什么：双手伸开，掌心向下，然后翻转为掌心向上。 名字：一手食指沿另一手中、无名、小指尖向下划动（中指表示“姓”、无名、小指表示“名”）。

我：一手食指指自己。 王：一手中、无名、小指横伸与另一手食指搭成“王”字形。 小：一手拇指捏小指指尖。 红：一手打手指字母“H”的指式，并摸摸嘴唇。嘴唇是红色的，以此表示“红”。 7.第一次来上海吗？ 第一次：（一）左手（向上）伸拇指；右手伸食指敲一下左手拇指尖。 （二）一手食指横伸。 （三）一手打手指字母“C”的指式。 来：一手掌心向下，由外向内挥动。 上海：双手握拳，小指一上一下互相勾住（原是英文字母“S”的双拼指式，上海人的习惯打法）。 8.我是志愿者，需要帮助吗？ 是：一手食、中指相搭，并点动一下。 志愿者：（一）手指字母“ZH”的指式。 （二）一手拇、食指分开，抵于左右嘴角。 （三）右手拇、小指捏成小圆圈贴于左胸部。 需要：（一）一手伸出拇、食指，指向胸前微微点动。 （二）同“要求”手势（一）。 帮助：双手掌心向外，拍动两下，表示给人援助、帮助。

手语(图文版)

手语启蒙班教案 前言 (1) 手语是什么？ (1) 为什么要学手语？（需要理由吗？^_^） (1) 多久能学会手语？ (2) 学习内容 (2) 基本手指语 (2) 基本手指语图示 (2) 10个常用短语 (3) 常用单词 (7) 会话场景模拟 (8) 附录 (13) 前言 手语是什么？ 手语是由于聋人交际的需要而产生的，它已作为聋人的一种语言，逐渐为人们所接受。手语包括手指语和手势语。手指语是用手指的指式变化和动作代表字母，并按照拼音顺序依次拼出词语；在远古时代，全人类都处在简单的有声语言阶段，常常用手做各种姿势来表示意思，这样的手势大多数是指示性和形象性的动作，叫作自然手势，此后，随着社会的进步，特别是聋教育的产生与发展，开始创造出具有语言性质的手势，这种在有声语言和文字基础上产生的，与有声语言密切结合的手语，称之为人为手势。自然手势和人为手势结合成为手势语。 由于我国幅员辽阔，人口众多，如同汉语有各地方言一样，手语也有各种不同的地方手语。50年代后期，中国聋哑人福利会就开始了中国手语规范化的工作，1990年，中国聋人协会编辑的《中国手语》工具书正式出版发行。 为什么要学手语？（需要理由吗？^_^）

多久能学会手语？ 学习手语需要时间。你不可能5分钟之内或一夜之见就学会手语。不特别用功的话，一般需要一或两年时间能掌握足够的手势用来进行日常交流。有些人学手势比别人慢，但不要因此灰心泄气。每个人学习手语的速度不一样。要耐心，你一定能学会手语的。值得努力学习的。 速度在手语中不是至关重要的。最重要的是清楚，清楚地打手势，即使你打得慢，也要打得清楚。当聋人请你重复打一遍，这说明你需要打得慢一些，尽可能清楚些。如果你打得慢，不要不好意思。重要的是表达出你的意思，与别人沟通，让别人理解你。有效的交流需要下功夫。祝你好运！ 学习内容 基本手指语 要点： 1，汉语手指字母完全用一只右手打出；但是在必要的时候也可以用左手代替（方向作对应的改变）。 2，如果有需要两手都参与的手势，则左手为辅，右手为主。 基本手指语图示

特种部队常用战术手语

特种部队常用战术手语 第一行：一、二、三、四、五； 第二行：六、七、八、九、十； 第三行：你、我、来、听/说、看/看我； 第四行：提/小心、停、结冰、占距该地、隐蔽。

第五行：敌军***、狙击手、狗、叫领队

特种部队手语图解 下面给大家介绍一组与之相关的手语，看特种部队在解救人质的过程中，除了高科技通讯之外，是怎么样通过手语来进行沟通完成任务的。这组手语最先是由德国第九国防军（GSG-9）创造，后被世界各国特种部队广泛采纳使用。好好学习哦，这个，大概，也许八成，没准…… 你——以食指指向受讯的队员。 我——以食指指向自己的胸膛。 来——伸开手臂，手指间紧闭，然后向着自己身躯方向摆动，指示队员靠 近自己。

听到——举起手臂，手指间紧闭，拇指及食指触及耳朵，掌心微曲并且向 着受讯队员。 看见——手指间紧闭，水平放置手掌于前额上。 那里——伸开手臂，以食指指向目标。 推进——屈曲手肘，前臂垂直指向地上，手臂成L形，手指间紧闭，然后从身后摆动向前方，通知队员向前推进。 讯息已收到——伸开手，大拇指和食指成圆形状，与“OK”手势相同。

转角处——手臂水平伸开成L形，从身后横摇向身前。 赶快——手部作握拳状，然后屈曲手肘，举起手臂作上下运动。 停止——伸开手臂，以掌心向着受讯队员。 催泪弹——手指分开成碗状，罩着面部的鼻子和口。 掩护我——手举至头上，屈曲手肘，掌心盖着头颅顶。 肃静——作握拳手势，竖起食指，垂直置于唇上。

不明白——略为屈曲手臂，掌人向上，举至肩膀高度，并耸耸肩 明白——手臂向身旁伸出，手肘屈曲，手腕举至面颊高度并作握拳状，掌 心向着受讯者。 进入——紧闭指间，伸开手臂，横向身后摆动，像在拨开窗帘的动作。 成人——手臂向身旁伸出，手部抬起至肩膊高度，掌心向下。 人质——以手握着自己的颈项，寓意是被挟持的人质。 小孩——手臂向身旁伸出，手肘屈曲，掌心向下固定置于腰间。

《和你一样》手语图解

《和你一样》手语图解 红十字基金主题曲 词曲：上海玉米 演唱：李宇春 歌词： 谁在最需要的时候轻轻拍着我肩膀 谁在最快乐的时候愿意和我分享 日子那么长我在你身旁 见证你成长让我感到充满力量谁能忘记过去一路走来陪你受的伤 谁能预料未来茫茫漫长你在何方 笑容在脸上和你一样 大声唱为自己鼓掌 我和你一样一样的坚强 一样的全力以赴追逐我的梦想 哪怕会受伤哪怕有风浪 风雨之后才会有迷人芬芳 我和你一样一样的善良 一样为需要的人打造一个天堂 歌声是翅膀唱出了希望 所有的付出只因爱的力量 和你一样 谁在最需要的时候轻轻拍着我肩膀 谁在最快乐的时候愿意和我分享 日子那么长我在你身旁 见证你成长让我感到充满力量谁能忘记过去一路走来陪你受的伤 谁能预料未来茫茫漫长你在何方

笑容在脸上和你一样 大声唱为自己鼓掌 我和你一样一样的坚强 一样的全力以赴追逐我的梦想哪怕会受伤哪怕有风浪 风雨之后才会有迷人芬芳 我和你一样一样的善良 一样为需要的人打造一个天堂歌声是翅膀唱出了希望 所有的付出只因爱的力量 我们都一样一样的坚强 一样的青春焕发金黄色的光芒哪怕会受伤哪怕有风浪 风雨之后才会有彩色阳光 我们都一样一样的善良 一样为需要的人打造一个天堂歌声是翅膀唱出了希望 所有的付出只因爱的力量 和你一样 我们都一样 谁在最需要的时候轻轻拍着我肩膀谁在最快乐的时候愿意和我分享日子那么长我在你身旁 见证你成长 永远为你鼓掌

谁 在------一手伸出拇、小指，坐于另一手掌心上 最－－－－－－一手拇指指尖抵于食指跟部，向下一沉 需要－－－－（一）一手伸出拇、食指，指向胸前微微点动。（二）同“要求”手势（一）。

特种部队手语图解版

特种部队常用手势图解

美国特种部队使用“手势语”简单明了、示意明确且不会引起误会。以下即是一些常见的“手势语”： 方向：以食指与中指合并，其余三指合握，两指指向的方位即所标示的方向。引导队友前进、观察、聆听、攻击与分散行进路线，都可用此手势表示。同样意思也可用四指并拢，拇指内扣表示，但此手势通常在大量人员移动时使用，若要示意迂回时，则以手腕与手臂的弯曲配合指向表示。

清除：军事任务中所指的清除含义众多，手势也是。如果清除的是前方哨兵，则是以手作刀砍颈或食指划过颈部表示；清除铁丝网则是以食指与中指作剪刀状；清除高塔上的敌人则是以食指与中指合并指于另一手的手掌下方，与球赛中的暂停 手势类似：清除地（诡）雷并开路，则以双手手掌向外划出，像游泳时的动作。 掩护：在接战中，自己要移动位置并请求队友提供掩护与火力压制时的手势有二种。其一为低势掩护，即移动将以低姿态（爬、伏）进行时，以左手握拳，右手出掌盖于左拳上示意；若以右手出掌覆于头部，则表示将以高姿态（冲刺、跳出掩体或壕沟）或是多人战术移位的方式进行移动。 停止：是前行的尖兵对后续的主力部队最常用的手势。五指并拢，手掌直立，指尖朝上，示意部队停止前进；若是握拳则表示所有人停止动作；而若是手掌朝下则表示所有人须保持低姿势或立即蹲下。 截断：左手掌心朝上，右手呈刀状竖置于左掌上。当遭遇敌方小部队，要予以中途拦截、切断其后路或从后方切入包围时，都可以此手势示意。 **************************************************************** 1成人--------手臂向身旁伸出，手部抬起到胳膊高度，掌心向下。 2小孩--------手臂向身旁伸出，手肘弯曲，掌心向下固定放在腰间。 3女性嫌疑犯--掌心向着自己的胸膛，手指分开呈碗状，寓意是女性的胸部。 4人质--------用手卡住自己的脖子，寓意是被劫持的人质。 5指挥官------食指、中指、无名指并排伸直，横放在另一手臂上。 6.手枪--------伸直大拇指及食指，互成90度，呈手枪姿势。 7.自动武器------手指弯曲成抓状，在胸膛前上下扫动，像弹奏吉它一样。 8.霰弹枪--------发信号的是手持霰弹枪的队员，只需用食指指指自己的武器便可。