The Secret Garden 秘密花園 英文原版 [平裝] pdf epub mobi txt 電子書 下載 2025

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☆☆☆☆☆

Frances Hodgson Burnett（弗朗西斯·霍奇森·伯內特） 著

圖書標籤:

• 經典文學
• 兒童文學
• 英文原版
• 平裝本
• 花園
• 成長
• 友誼
• 治愈
• 英國文學
• 小說

齣版社： Penguin US

ISBN：9780451528834

版次：1

商品編碼：19043488

包裝：平裝

齣版時間：2003-07-01

用紙：膠版紙

頁數：288

正文語種：英文

商品尺寸：10.41x2.03x17.27cm

編輯推薦

It is only the exceptional author who can write a book about children with sufficient skill, charm, simplicity, and significance to make it acceptable to both young and old. Mrs. Burnett is one of the few thus gifted
　　《秘密花園》是美國著名兒童文學作傢伯內特夫人最負盛名的作品，也是一百年來暢銷不衰的經典兒童小說。它曾經先後十幾次被改編成電影，電視，卡通片，話劇，舞颱劇等，受到全世界大人和孩子的追捧與熱愛。在英語兒章文學裏，《秘密花園》是公認的無年齡界限的精品，也是一部打通雅俗界限的文學作品，被收入《牛津世界經典叢書》。

內容簡介

This timeless classic is a poignant tale of Mary, a lonely orphaned girl sent to a Yorkshire mansion at the edge of a vast lonely moor. At first, she is frightened by this gloomy place until she meets a local boy, Dickon, who's earned the trust of the moor's wild animals, the invalid Colin, an unhappy boy terrified of life, and a mysterious, abandoned garden... Annotation Frances Hodgson Burnett's beloved classic is adapted for beginning readers in this colorfully illustrated version. The spoiled orphan Mary Lennox leaves India to live with her cold uncle in his dreary mansion in England. When Mary hears of a secret garden kept locked for ten years, she is determined to find it and tend it back to life. With the help of her uncle's sickly son and a boy who knows all about nature, Mary secretly transforms the garden - and all of their lives.

　　《秘密花園》講述瞭一個發人深省的故事。主人公瑪莉生於印度的一個村莊。父母都是英國人。一次霍亂摧毀瞭這個印度的小村莊，瑪莉的父母和奶媽也在霍亂中死去，成為孤兒的瑪莉隻好投靠在英國的姑父。她被帶到英國後。生活在姑父的莊園裏。

作者簡介

Frances Hodgson Burnett was a born storyteller. Even as a young child, her greatest pleasure was in making up stories and acting them out, using her dolls as characters. She wrote over forty books, including the classic A Little Princess, also illustrated by Tasha Tudor.

　　弗朗西絲·霍奇森·伯內特，女，(1849年11月24日至1924年10月29日)生於英國曼徹斯特市，1865年隨全傢移民美國田納西州。1873年與伯內特博士(Dr. S.M.Burnett)結婚，育有二子。 　　
　　伯內特的父親早逝，傢境貧寒，從18歲開始在雜誌上發錶故事，貼補傢用。她的一本暢銷書是28歲時齣版的《勞瑞傢的那閨女》(That Lass O’Lowries)，取材於幼年她在英國煤礦的生活。可是，讓弗朗西絲·霍奇森·伯內特聞名於世的，是她的兒童文學作品。1886年她發錶瞭小說《小少爺方特羅伊》，寫一個美國小男孩成為英國伯爵繼承人的故事。“方特羅伊”從此成為英語詞匯，指“過分盛裝打扮的小孩”。這本書讓伯內特成為當時最暢銷、最富有的流行作傢之一。此書和1905年發錶的《小公主》都曾被改編成話劇。1939年，電影《小公主》由當時紅極一時的童星秀蘭·鄧波兒(Sherley Temper)主演。伯內特從小喜歡植物，離婚後投入園藝。她在英國的住所周圍有幾個帶圍牆的花園，其中一個是她的戶外書房，每天在花園裏寫作。1909年，當她在紐約長島布置自己傢花園的時候，突發靈感，構思齣《秘密花園》。這本小說初版於1911年，在她的兩個國傢——英國和美國都暢銷，並且成為她最知名、最成功的作品。因為她的兒童文學作品，使她在世時收入豐厚?是享有盛名的小說傢和劇作傢。弗朗西絲·霍奇森·伯內特於1924年在美國紐約州長島去世。

精彩書評

Grade 3–6—First published in 1911, Burnett's tale of burgeoning self-awareness, newfound friendship, and the healing effects of nature is presented in an elegant, oversize volume and handsomely illustrated with Moore's detailed ink and watercolor paintings. Cleanly laid-out text pages are balanced by artwork ranging from delicate spot images to full-page renderings. The outdoor scenes are beautifully depicted, presenting realistic images of animals and flowers, with the hues gradually warming in sync with the story's progression from winter's browns and beiges to the lush colors of spring. The young protagonists—lonely Mary Lennox; her sickly and spoiled cousin, Colin; and likable local lad Dickon—bound to life in the evocative paintings, which reflect the wonders of transformations in both nature and in a child's heart. All in all, a lovely interpretation.
—Joy Fleishhacker, School Library Journal

Soothing and mellifluous, native Briton Bailey's voice proves an excellent instrument for polishing up a new edition of Burnett's story. Bratty and spoiled Mary Lennox is orphaned when her parents fall victim to a cholera outbreak in India. As a result, Mary becomes the ward of an uncle in England she has never met. As she hesitantly tries to carve a new life for herself at imposing and secluded Misselthwaite Manor, Mary befriends a high-spirited boy named Dickon and investigates a secret garden on the Manor grounds. She also discovers a sickly young cousin, Colin, who has been shut away in a hidden Manor room. Together Mary and Dickon help Colin blossom, and in the process Mary finds her identity and melts the heart of her emotionally distant uncle. Bailey makes fluid transitions between the voices and accents of various characters, from terse Mrs. Medlock and surly groundskeeper Ben to chipper housemaid Martha. And most enjoyably, she gives Mary a believably childlike voice. A brief biography of the author is included in an introduction. Ages 6-12.
— Publishers Weekly

目錄

Chapter1:There Is No OneLeft
Chapter2:Martha
Chapter3:TheCry in the Corridor
Chapter4:TheKey of the Garden
Chapter5:TheStrangest House Anyone Ever Lived In
Chapter6:“Might I Have aBit of Earth?”
Chapter7:“IAm Colin”
Chapter8:AYoung Rajah
Chapter9:NestBuilding
Chapter10:ATantrum
Chapter11:“Tha’ MunnotWaste No Time”
Chapter12:“IShall Live Forever-and Ever-and Ever!”
Chapter13:Magic
Chapter14:Inthe Garden

精彩書摘

CHAPTER I
There Is No One Left
When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen. It was true, too. She had a little thin face and a little thin body, thin light hair and a sour expression. Her hair was yellow, and her face was yellow because she had been born in India and had always been ill in one way or another. Her father had held a position under the English Government and had always been busy and ill himself, and her mother had been a great beauty who cared only to go to parties and amuse herself with gay people. She had not wanted a little girl at all, and when Mary was born she handed her over to the care of an Ayah, who was made to understand that if she wished to please the Mem Sahib she must keep the child out of sight as much as possible. So when she was a sickly, fretful, ugly little baby she was kept out of the way, and when she became a sickly, fretful, toddling thing she was kept out of the way also. She never remembered seeing familiarly anything but the dark faces of her Ayah and the other native servants, and as they always obeyed her and gave her her own way in everything, because the Mem Sahib would be angry if she was disturbed by her crying, by the time she was six years old she was as tyrannical and selfish a little pig as ever lived. The young English governess who came to teach her to read and write disliked her so much that she gave up her place in three months, and when other governesses came to try to fill it they always went away in a shorter time than the first one. So if Mary had not chosen to really want to know how to read books she would never have learned her letters at all.
One frightfully hot morning, when she was about nine years old, she awakened feeling very cross, and she became crosser still when she saw that the servant who stood by her bedside was not her Ayah.
“Why did you come?” she said to the strange woman. “I will not let you stay. Send my Ayah to me.”
The woman looked frightened, but she only stammered that the Ayah could not come and when Mary threw herself into a passion and beat and kicked her, she looked only more frightened and repeated that it was not possible for the Ayah to come to Missie Sahib.
There was something mysterious in the air that morning. Nothing was done in its regular order and several of the native servants seemed missing, while those whom Mary saw slunk or hurried about with ashy and scared faces. But no one would tell her anything and her Ayah did not come. She was actually left alone as the morning went on, and at last she wandered out into the garden and began to play by herself under a tree near the veranda. She pretended that she was making a flower-bed, and she stuck big scarlet hibiscus blossoms into little heaps of earth, all the time growing more and more angry and muttering to herself the things she would say and the names she would call Saidie when she returned.
“Pig! Pig! Daughter of Pigs!” she said, because to call a native a pig is the worst insult of all.
She was grinding her teeth and saying this over and over again when she heard her mother come out on the veranda with some one. She was with a fair young man and they stood talking together in low strange voices. Mary knew the fair young man who looked like a boy. She had heard that he was a very young officer who had just come from England. The child stared at him, but she stared most at her mother. She always did this when she had a chance to see her, because the Mem Sahib—Mary used to call her that oftener than anything else—was such a tall, slim, pretty person and wore such lovely clothes. Her hair was like curly silk and she had a delicate little nose which seemed to be disdaining things, and she had large laughing eyes. All her clothes were thin and floating, and Mary said they were “full of lace.” They looked fuller of lace than ever this morning, but her eyes were not laughing at all. They were large and scared and lifted imploringly to the fair boy officer’s face.
“Is it so very bad? Oh, is it?” Mary heard her say.
“Awfully,” the young man answered in a trembling voice. “Awfully, Mrs. Lennox. You ought to have gone to the hills two weeks ago.”
The Mem Sahib wrung her hands.
“Oh, I know I ought!” she cried. “I only stayed to go to that silly dinner party. What a fool I was!”
At that very moment such a loud sound of wailing broke out from the servants’ quarters that she clutched the young man’s arm, and Mary stood shivering from head to foot. The wailing grew wilder and wilder.
“What is it? What is it?” Mrs. Lennox gasped.
“Some one has died,” answered the boy officer. “You did not say it had broken out among your servants.”
“I did not know!” the Mem Sahib cried. “Come with me! Come with me!” and she turned and ran into the house.
After that appalling things happened, and the mysteriousness of the morning was explained to Mary. The cholera had broken out in its most fatal form and people were dying like flies. The Ayah had been taken ill in the night, and it was because she had just died that the servants had wailed in the huts. Before the next day three other servants were dead and others had run away in terror. There was panic on every side, and dying people in all the bungalows.
During the confusion and bewilderment of the second day Mary hid herself in the nursery and was forgotten by every one. Nobody thought of her, nobody wanted her, and strange things happened of which she knew nothing. Mary alternately cried and slept through the hours. She only knew that people were ill and that she heard mysterious and frightening sounds. Once she crept into the dining-room and found it empty, though a partly finished meal was on the table and chairs and plates looked as if they had been hastily pushed back when the diners rose suddenly for some reason. The child ate some fruit and biscuits, and being thirsty she drank a glass of wine which stood nearly filled. It was sweet, and she did not know how strong it was. Very soon it made her intensely drowsy, and she went back to her nursery and shut herself in again, frightened by cries she heard in the huts and by the hurrying sound of feet. The wine made her so sleepy that she could scarcely keep her eyes open and she lay down on her bed and knew nothing more for a long time.
Many things happened during the hours in which she slept so heavily, but she was not disturbed by the wails and the sound of things being carried in and out of the bungalow.
When she awakened she lay and stared at the wall. The house was perfectly still. She had never known it to be so silent before. She heard neither voices nor footsteps, and wondered if everybody had got well of the cholera and all the trouble was over. She wondered also who would take care of her now her Ayah was dead. There would be a new Ayah, and perhaps she would know some new stories. Mary had been rather tired of the old ones. She did not cry because her nurse had died. She was not an affectionate child and had never cared much for any one. The noise and hurrying about and wailing over the cholera had frightened her, and she had been angry because no one seemed to remember that she was alive. Every one was too panic-stricken to think of a little girl no one was fond of. When people had the cholera it seemed that they remembered nothing but themselves. But if every one had got well again, surely some one would remember and come to look for her.
But no one came, and as she lay waiting the house seemed to grow more and more silent. She heard something rustling on the matting and when she looked down she saw a little snake gliding along and watching her with eyes like jewels. She was not frightened, because he was a harmless little thing who would not hurt her and he seemed in a hurry to get out of the room. He slipped under the door as she watched him.
“How queer and quiet it is,” she said. “It sounds as if there was no one in the bungalow but me and the snake.”
Almost the next minute she heard footsteps in the compound, and then on the veranda. They were men’s footsteps, and the men entered the bungalow and talked in low voices. No one went to meet or speak to them and they seemed to open doors and look into rooms.
“What desolation!” she heard one voice say. “That pretty, pretty woman! I suppose the child, too. I heard there was a child, though no one ever saw her.”
Mary was standing in the middle of the nursery when they opened the door a few minutes later. She looked an ugly, cross little thing and was frowning because she was beginning to be hungry and feel disgracefully neglected. The first man who came in was a large officer she had once seen talking to her father. He looked tired and troubled, but when he saw her he was so startled that he almost jumped back.
“Barney!” he cried out. “There is a child here! A child alone! In a place like this! Mercy on us, who is she!”
“I am Mary Lennox,” the little girl said, drawing herself up stiffly. She thought the man was very rude to call her father’s bungalow “A place like this!” “I fell asleep when every one had the cholera and I have only just wakened up. Why does nobody come?”
“It is the child no one ever saw!” exclaimed the man, turning to his companions. “She has actually been forgotten!”
“Why was I forgotten?” Mary said, stamping her foot. “Why does nobody come?”
The young man whose name was Barney looked at her very sadly. Mary even thought she saw him wink his eyes as if to wink tears away.
“Poor little kid!” he said. “There is nobody left to come.”

前言/序言

好的，這是一份關於其他圖書的詳細簡介，不涉及《秘密花園》。 --- 《百年孤獨》（Cien años de soledad）—— 經典魔幻現實主義的史詩 作者：加夫列爾·加西亞·馬爾剋斯 (Gabriel García Márquez) 導讀與內容梗概 《百年孤獨》是哥倫比亞作傢、諾貝爾文學奬得主加夫列爾·加西亞·馬爾剋斯的代錶作，被譽為拉丁美洲“魔幻現實主義”文學的巔峰之作。這部小說不僅僅是一個傢族的故事，更是一部濃縮瞭拉丁美洲曆史、文化與神話的宏大史詩。它以其獨特的敘事風格、豐富的人物群像和對時間、記憶、愛與孤獨的深刻探討，構建瞭一個虛構卻又無比真實的布恩迪亞傢族的七代人傳奇。 馬孔多：一個世界的縮影 故事的起點是馬孔多（Macondo）——一個由布恩迪亞傢族創始人何塞·阿爾卡蒂奧·布恩迪亞（José Arcadio Buendía）和烏爾蘇拉·伊瓜蘭（Úrsula Iguarán）一手創建的“烏托邦”小鎮。馬孔多的誕生充滿瞭原始的生命力和神秘色彩，它如同世界的孤島，與外部世界隔絕，自給自足地發展著。然而，隨著時間的推移，外部世界的洪流，包括戰爭、政治紛爭、殖民掠奪和現代化的衝擊，不可避免地侵入瞭這片淨土，引發瞭一係列的災難與變遷。 布恩迪亞傢族的宿命輪迴 小說的核心圍繞著布恩迪亞傢族成員的興衰展開。這個傢族的命名似乎遵循著一種殘酷的循環：阿爾卡蒂奧和奧雷裏亞諾交替齣現，每一代人都似乎在重復著前人的錯誤、激情與孤獨。 第一代： 何塞·阿爾卡蒂奧·布恩迪亞是一位富有探索精神和瘋狂想象力的族長，他對煉金術、科學和未知世界的癡迷，最終將他引嚮孤獨的瘋癲。烏爾蘇拉，他堅韌的妻子，是傢族的實際支柱，她以驚人的生命力和實用主義維係著傢族的延續。 第二代： 最引人注目的是奧雷裏亞諾上校（Colonel Aureliano Buendía），他參與瞭三十多年的內戰，打過大大小小的戰役，卻始終無法理解戰爭的意義，最終退隱，在孤獨中製作和熔化金魚。他的兄弟何塞·阿爾卡蒂奧二世（José Arcadio Segundo）則經曆瞭馬孔多的香蕉公司大屠殺，這一事件成為瞭傢族乃至馬孔多曆史上的一個巨大傷疤。 後續世代： 隨後的幾代人，如充滿藝術氣息卻英年早逝的阿爾卡蒂奧，以及被愛情和宿命睏擾的奧雷裏亞諾二世和何塞·阿爾卡蒂奧二世，他們的故事交織著禁忌之戀、背叛、魔法與令人心碎的宿命感。 魔幻現實主義的敘事基調 馬爾剋斯在這部作品中將魔幻元素與日常現實無縫地融閤在一起。漂浮的吉蔔賽人帶來的冰塊和磁鐵，蕾梅黛絲美女的升天，以及持續瞭近五年的滂沱大雨，這些超乎尋常的事件被敘述者以一種冷靜、客觀、近乎新聞報道的語氣呈現，使得讀者難以分辨何為真實，何為幻想。這種敘事手法不僅反映瞭拉丁美洲曆史的荒誕性，也深刻地錶達瞭人類經驗中那些無法用理性完全解釋的部分。 核心主題的深度挖掘 《百年孤獨》探討的主題是多層次且永恒的： 1. 孤獨 (Solitude)： 這是貫穿全書的基調。布恩迪亞傢族的每一位成員，無論他們是身處戰爭的喧囂、財富的頂峰，還是沉浸於愛情的狂熱中，最終都無法逃脫深刻的個體孤獨。這種孤獨既是個人選擇的結果，也是傢族遺傳的詛咒。 2. 時間與循環 (Time and Cyclicality)： 小說的時間觀是非綫性的。事件不斷重復，名字不斷重現，曆史似乎總是在原地打轉。傢族成員不斷重蹈覆轍，直到最終的毀滅，揭示瞭人類曆史的宿命感和徒勞性。 3. 記憶與遺忘 (Memory and Forgetting)： 遺忘癥的爆發是馬孔多曆史上的一個關鍵事件，象徵著文化和曆史記憶的脆弱性。馬爾剋斯強調，隻有通過銘記曆史，纔能避免被曆史吞噬。 4. 愛與禁忌 (Love and Incest)： 傢族成員之間錯綜復雜的親緣關係，尤其是對亂倫的恐懼（害怕生齣長著豬尾巴的孩子），構成瞭傢族命運的內在驅動力。愛與欲望常常以破壞性的方式齣現。 結尾的震撼與啓示 小說的尾聲是文學史上最輝煌的篇章之一。當最後一位布恩迪亞後裔——一個擁有豬尾巴的孩子誕生時，傢族的預言終於實現。在傢族的最後一位成員破譯瞭羊皮捲上梅爾基亞德斯留下的預言時，馬孔多被颶風徹底抹去。這一結局既是毀滅性的，也是一種終極的解脫——因為傢族被記載、被理解，他們的存在纔得以完成。 《百年孤獨》是一部需要耐心閱讀、反復品味的巨著。它不僅是對一個傢族興衰的編年史，更是對人類境況、曆史必然性以及魔幻與現實共存的深刻哲學思考。它的語言充滿瞭詩意和奇詭的想象力，是全球文學愛好者不可錯過的經典之作。 ---

評分☆☆☆☆☆

這本書的封麵設計簡直是一場視覺的盛宴，那種帶著歲月痕跡的插畫，色彩飽和度恰到好處，仿佛能透過紙張聞到泥土和老藤蔓的氣息。我一拿到手，就忍不住被它吸引住瞭，那種老派的英倫風情撲麵而來，讓人立刻聯想到壁爐裏劈啪作響的火光和窗外淅淅瀝瀝的鞦雨。內頁的排版也十分考究，字體的選擇典雅又不失易讀性，留白處理得當，使得閱讀體驗極為舒適。裝幀的質量也讓人放心，平裝本卻有著超齣預期的堅固感，即便是經常翻閱，也不會輕易齣現鬆散的情況。可以說，光是這本書的外在，就足夠讓喜愛經典文學和精美印刷品的讀者心動不已瞭。它不僅僅是一本書，更像是一件可以珍藏的藝術品，擺在書架上也是一道亮麗的風景綫，每次路過都會讓人想再次拾起它，感受那份沉甸甸的墨香與懷舊情懷。這種對實體書的尊重和用心，在如今這個數字閱讀盛行的時代，顯得尤為珍貴和難得。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

這部作品的深度遠超乎其錶麵上看似簡單的童話故事框架。它巧妙地探討瞭許多復雜而永恒的主題，比如孤獨、被愛、傢庭的意義，以及最核心的——“治愈的力量”。這裏的“治愈”並非僅僅指身體上的康復，更多的是對靈魂創傷的修復。它以一種極其溫柔且不加評判的方式，展示瞭人與人之間、人與自然之間建立健康聯結的重要性。書中的角色們，無論是以何種形式存在，都在尋找歸屬感和被接納的空間。這種對人性深處脆弱麵的坦誠展示，讓成年讀者在閱讀時也能找到強烈的共鳴。它似乎在低語著一個秘密：每個人心中都有一座可以自我修復的“花園”，關鍵在於我們是否有勇氣和耐心去挖掘並照料它。這種蘊含的哲思，值得反復咀嚼和體會。

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這本書的敘事節奏把握得極其精妙，它並非那種大開大閤、情節跌宕起伏的小說，而是更像一位老道的園丁，耐心地引導你走進一片逐漸蘇醒的土地。初讀時，你會感覺到一種慢悠悠的、甚至略帶壓抑的氛圍，仿佛身處陰冷的鼕季，一切都裹挾在灰濛濛的霧氣裏。作者的筆觸極其細膩，對於人物細微的情感變化，無論是內心的掙紮還是不經意的動作，都捕捉得絲絲入扣。你看著主人公一點點地卸下心防，那種轉變是漸進的、真實的，沒有絲毫的刻意和矯揉造作。這種緩慢的鋪陳，反而為後來的爆發積蓄瞭強大的情感張力。當故事的轉摺點到來時，你會發現自己早已完全沉浸其中，為角色的每一次小小的進步而感到由衷的欣慰。它教會我們，真正的療愈和成長，往往需要時間去醞釀，去等待陽光穿透雲層的那一刻，而不是急於求成地去催促花朵綻放。

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從文學語言的角度來看，這本書的詞匯選擇和句式結構展現瞭那個時代獨特的優雅和韻律感。語言本身就是一種享受，它不像當代快餐式閱讀那樣追求直白和效率，而是注重措辭的精準和音韻的美感。你會發現很多用詞極為考究，即便是描述一個最尋常的動作，也能被賦予一種古典的儀式感。這種精煉的語言藝術，使得即便是初次接觸經典文學的讀者，也不會感到晦澀難懂，反而會被這種沉穩的敘述風格所吸引。它像一首經過精心打磨的古典樂章，每一個音符的排列都有其存在的理由，共同構建齣一種和諧、寜靜的閱讀體驗。讀完閤上書本，那種迴味無窮的韻味，久久不散，讓人不由自主地想要重新翻到某一頁，再次品味那段被時間打磨得晶瑩剔透的文字。

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我尤其欣賞作者在構建環境氛圍上的高超技巧。她對自然景物的描繪，簡直達到瞭詩意的境界。那種對植物形態、土壤氣息乃至光影變幻的精準捕捉，讓人感覺自己仿佛真的置身於那個被遺忘已久、充滿神秘氣息的角落。每一次對新發現的細節的描繪，都伴隨著一種近乎宗教般的虔誠感。比如，當主人公第一次觸碰到那些被藤蔓覆蓋的鐵藝大門時，那種冰冷、粗糲的質感似乎能透過文字直達指尖。而當生命力重新注入那片荒蕪之地時，文字的色彩和溫度也隨之改變，變得溫暖、明亮、充滿生機。這種環境與人物心靈狀態的深度契閤，是很多現代小說難以企及的。書中的場景描寫，不僅僅是背景闆，它們是活生生的參與者，是故事中沉默卻最有力量的見證者，引導著讀者的情緒走嚮。

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國外的書除開那些貴死人的精裝啥的版本，幾本都是這個樣子，看上去很廉價，再生紙，閱讀感有些差，不過很環保就是瞭，以前買的書也是這樣的，還一點不便宜。不過韆金難買心頭好嘛?

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上學瞭 離不開學習 從頭再來！書還不錯 送貨快 希望都是正品

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我的京東618戰績，圖書，真是太實惠瞭，贊

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給兒子買的，學習英語用

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孩子看過漢語版，這次買個英文的

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6.18在京東買瞭好多書，摺扣太有誘惑力瞭，愛我大京東！

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完美

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絕對是一流的，送貨速度快，配送員服務態度好，

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還不錯，很輕，小巧，適閤放包裏。輕輕地，你來瞭