It was the best of times, it was the of times. It was the season of light, it was the season of darkness. It was the spring of hope, it was the winter of （sad）. It was the year one thousand seven hundred and seventy—five・
In France there was a King and a Queen, and in England there was a King and a Queen. They believed that nothing would ever change. But in France things were bad, and getting worse. The people were poor, hungry and (happy). The King made paper money and spent it, and the people had nothing (eat). Behind (close) doors in the homes of the people, voices spoke in whispers (低声说)against the King and the rich： they were only whispers,they were the angry whispers of hopeless people.
Late one November night, in that same year 1775, a coach (四轮马车)going from London to Dover, stopped at the top of a long hill. The horses were tired, but as they rested, the driver heard another horse (come) fast up the hill behind them. The rider stopped his horse beside the coach and shouted：
"I want a passenger, Mr Jarvis Lorry, from Tellson*s Bank in London."
"I am Mr Jarvis Lorry, " said one of the passengers, putting his head of the window. "What do you want?"
"It's me! Jerry, Jerry Cruncher, from Tellson*s Bank, sir," Cried the man on the horse. "What's the matter, Jerry?" called Mr Lorry.
"A message you, Mr Lorry. You've got to wait at Dover for a young lady."
"Very well, Jerry," said Mr Lorry, "Tell them my answer is CAME BACK TO LIFE."
It was a strange message, and a stranger answer. No one in the coach understood they meant.
