为您找到与丑小鸭的故事英文版带翻译较长相关的共200个结果:
百顺孝为先,这是中国的传统美德之一,而中国民间有着二十四孝经典故事,今天读文网小编在这里为大家分享一些二十四孝经典民间故事,欢迎大家阅读!
Shun, a legendary ancient emperor and one of the Five Emperors, had a surname of Yao and a last name of Chonghua. He was also known as Yushi or called as Yushun in Chinese history.
舜,传说中的远古帝王,五帝之一,姓姚,名重华,号有虞氏,史称虞舜。
According to the legend, his father Gusou (literally the blind old-man), stepmother and half brother Xiang plotted to kill him for many times:
相传他的父亲瞽叟及继母、异母弟象,多次想害死他:
They let Shun revamp the roof of granary and set fire under the barn, Shun jumped to escape with two bamboo hats in hand; they also let Shun dig a well, but Gusou and Xiang filled soil to the well while the digging, Shun then dug underground tunnel to escape.
让舜修补谷仓仓顶时,从谷仓下纵火,舜手持两个斗笠跳下逃脱;让舜掘井时,瞽叟与象却下土填井,舜掘地道逃脱。
Afterwards, Shun didn't resent and was still humble to his father and loved his younger brother.
事后舜毫不嫉恨,仍对父亲恭顺,对弟弟慈爱。
His conducts of filial piety moved the King of Heaven. When Shun cultivated in Mount Li, elephants ploughed for him while birds weeded for him.
他的孝行感动了天帝。舜在厉山耕种,大象替他耕地,鸟代他锄草。
Emperor Yao heard that Shun was a filial son with the talents of dealing with political affairs, and married off his two daughters, Ehuang and Nvying, to Shun.
帝尧听说舜非常孝顺,有处理政事的才干,把两个女儿娥皇和女英嫁给他
Through years of observation and tests, Emperor Yao selected Shun as his successor. After Shun ascended the throne as the Son of Heaven, he still called on his father respectfully, and granted the leud title to Xiang.
经过多年观察和考验,选定舜做他的继承人。舜登天子位后,去看望父亲,仍然恭恭敬敬,并封象为诸侯。
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《老人与海》是海明威于1951年在古巴写的一篇中篇小说,是海明威最著名的作品之一。下面是读文网小编整理的一些老人与海的英文版句子,欢迎大家阅读!
He did not remember when he had first started to talk aloud when he was by himself. He had sung when he was by himself in the old days and he had sung at night sometimes when he was alone steering on his watch in the smacks or in the turtle boats. He had probably started to talk aloud, when alone, when the boy had left. But he did not remember. When he and the boy fished together they usually spoke only when it was necessary. They talked at night or when they were storm-bound by bad weather. It was considered a virtue not to talk unnecessarily at sea and the old man had always considered it so and respected it. But now he said his thoughts aloud many times since there was no one that they could annoy.
他记不起他是什么时候第一次开始在独自待着的当儿自言自语的了。往年他独自待着时曾唱歌来着,有时候在夜里唱,那是在小渔船或捕海龟的小艇上值班掌舵时的事。他大概是在那孩子离开了他、他独自待着时开始自言自语的。不过他记不清了。他跟孩子一块儿捕鱼时,他们一般只在有必要时才说话。他们在夜间说话来着,要不,碰到坏天气,被暴风雨困在海上的时候。没有必要不在海上说话,被认为是种好规矩,老人一向认为的确如此,始终遵守它。可是这会儿他把心里想说的话说出声来有好几次了,因为没有旁人会受到他说话的打扰。
"If the others heard me talking out loud they would think that I am crazy," he said aloud. "But since I am not crazy, I do not care. And the rich have radios to talk to them in their boats and to bring them the baseball."
“要是别人听到我在自言自语,会当我发疯了,”他说出声来。“不过既然我没有发疯,我就不管,还是要说。有钱人在船上有收音机对他们谈话,还把棒球赛的消息告诉他们。”
Now is no time to think baseball, he thought. Now is the time to think of only one thing. That which I was born for. There might be a big one around that school, he thought. I picked up only a straggler from the albacore that were feeding. But they are working far out and fast. Everything that shows on the surface today travels very fast and to the north-east. Can that be the time of day? Or is it some sign of weather that I do not know?
现在可不是思量棒球赛的时刻,他想。现在只应该思量一桩事。就是我生来要干的那桩事。那个鱼群周围很可能有一条大的,他想。我只逮住了正在吃小鱼的金枪鱼群中一条失散的。可是它们正游向远方,游得很快。今天凡是在海面上露面的都游得很快,向着东北方向。难道一天的这个时辰该如此吗?要不,这是什么我不懂得的天气征兆?
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一些幽默的英语故事,能提高我们阅读英语的兴趣,从而提高英语的阅读能力,今天读文网小编在这里为大家分享一些四年级英语幽默小故事,欢迎大家阅读!
Guests for dinner
晚餐宾客
There was this little kid who had a bad habit of sucking his thumb.
一个小家伙老喜欢吮自己的大拇指, 这可是个坏习惯。
His mother finally told him that if he didn't stop sucking his thumb, he'd get fat.
他妈妈最后跟他说,如果他再吮大拇指的话,他就会变得很胖。
Two weeks later, his mother had her friends over for a game of bridge.
两个星期后的一天,她妈妈正跟几个朋友在玩桥牌。
The boy points to an obviously pregnant woman and says, "Ah, ha! I know what you've been doing!"
小家伙指着一个因怀孕而体型明显发胖的女人说,“啊,哈! 我知道你一直在做什么!”
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下面是读文网小编整理的英语童话故事带翻译,欢迎大家阅读!
laugh out of the other side of your mouth
乐极生悲
Chunyu Kun (淳于髡) lived in the state of Qi (齐国) during the Warring States Period (战国,475-221 BC).He was wise, humorous and eloquent. He skillfully advised the king on many occasions and successfully went to many states as an envoy.
战国时期,齐国有个叫淳于髡的人。他幽默机智,能说会道,给齐威王出过许多好主意,并且成功出使了许多其他的国家。
In the year 349 BC, the State of Chu (楚国) dispatched a large force to attack Qi.
公元349年,楚国派出大批军队攻打齐国。
The king of Qi sent Chunyu Kun to the state of Zhao (赵国) to ask for help, with a lot of valuable gifts.
齐王派淳于髡去赵国寻求帮助,于是他带着许多贵重的礼品去了赵国。
The king of Zhao accpeted the gifts gladly and sent a hundred thousand troops to help Qi.
赵王见了礼物十分高兴,派了十万士兵去援助齐国。
The king of Chu withdrew his army that very night as soon as he got the news.
那天晚上,楚王得到这消息,马上撤回了自己的军队。
The king of Qi was released and pleased with Chunyu Kun. He set a banquet for celebration.
齐威王松了一口气,十分满意淳于髡的表现,并决定设宴为他庆功。
During the meal, the king asked Chunyu Kun, "How much wine can you drink before you're drunk, Sir?"
在宴会上,齐威王问淳于髡:“先生你喝多少酒会醉?”
Knowing the king had a bad habit of drinking all night, Chunyu Kun decided to take this chance to admonish the king. So he replied, "I get drunk when I drink ten litres or hundred."
他幽默地回答说:“我有时喝一升酒就会醉,有时喝一百升酒才会醉。”
Puzzled, the king asked, "Since you are drunk after ten litres, how can you finish another ninty litres?"
齐威王听了很奇怪。他问:“你喝一升已经醉了,怎么还会有喝一百升的道理呢?”
Chunyu Kun then explained that he could drink different amounts of wine under different conditions. He said, "This occurs to me that when you drink to your limit, you get so drunk that you lose your sense; once joy reaches its height, then it's sorrow's turn. This is the rule for everything. Whatever you do, you are bound to end up in the opposite direction when you exceed the limits."
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“哪里有人,哪里就有笑声。”从古到今,笑话是人们生活中不可缺少的“调剂品”。笑话使人们在刻板的生活中感到一丝快意和放松,在人们的日常生活中起着重要调剂作用。下面读文网小编为大家带来英文幽默故事带翻译,欢迎大家阅读!
"Daddy, can I learn to play the violin?" young Sarah asked her father. She was always asking for things and her father was not very pleased.
"You cost me a lot of money, Sarah," he said. "First you wanted to learn horse riding, then dancing, then swimming. Now it's the violin.
"I'll play every day, Daddy." Sarah said. "I'll try very hard.
"All right," her father said. "This is what I'll do. I'll pay for you to have lessons for six weeks. At the end of six weeks you must play something for me. If you play well, you can have more lessons. If you play badly, I will stop the lessons."
"0. K. Daddy," Sarah said. "That is fair.
He soon found a good violin teacher and Sarah began her lessons. The teacher was very expensive, but her father kept his promise.
The six weeks passed quickly. The time came for Sarah to play for her father.
She went to the living room and said, "I'm ready to play for you, Daddy.
"Fine, Sarah," her father said. "Begin.
She began to play. She played very badly. She made a terrible noise.
Her father had one of his friends with him, and the friend put his hands over his ears.
When Sarah finished, her father said, "Well done, Sarah. You can have more lessons."
Sarah ran happily out of the room. Her father's friend turned to him. "You've spent a lot of money, but she still plays very badly. he said.
"Well, that's true," her father said. "But since she started learning the violin I've been able to buy five apartments in this build very cheaply. In another six weeks I'll own the whole building!"
“爸爸,我能学拉小提琴吗?”小莎拉问她的父亲.她总是要东西,因此她爸爸很不高兴.
“你花了我很多钱,莎拉,”他说,“开始你想学骑马,然后想学跳舞,然后是游泳.现在又想学拉小提琴.”
“我会每天都拉的,爸爸,”莎拉说,“我会认真练的.”
“好吧,”她爸爸说.“下面是我要做的:我会为你付六个星期的小提琴课的钱,六个星期后你必须拉首曲子给我听.如果你拉得很好,你可以继续上小提琴课,要是你拉得很差,你就不要再学了.”
“行.爸爸,”莎拉说,“这很公平.”
他很快就找到了一个好的小提琴老师,莎拉就开始学拉提琴了.尽管学费很高,但她爸爸遵守了诺言.
六个星期很快就过去了.该莎拉拉提琴给爸爸听了.
她走进起居室说:“我准备好拉提琴给你听了.”
“好哇,莎拉,”她爸爸说.“开始吧.”
她开始拉了.她拉得很差,发出了可怕的嗓音.她爸爸身旁有位朋友,朋友用手捂着耳朵.
莎拉拉完一曲,她父亲说:“拉得好,莎拉.你可以继续学琴了.”
莎拉高兴地跑出门去.她父亲的朋友对他说:“你已经花了不少钱了,但她还是拉得很差.”
“噢,的确如此,”她爸爸说,“但自从她开始学小提琴,我就可以很便宜地买下这幢楼的五个公寓.再过六周,我就可以拥有整幢楼啦!”
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“哪里有人,哪里就有笑声。”从古到今,笑话是人们生活中不可缺少的“调剂品”。笑话使人们在刻板的生活中感到一丝快意和放松,在人们的日常生活中起着重要调剂作用。下面读文网小编为大家带来少儿英语幽默小故事翻译,欢迎大家阅读!
A man told his son to take a letter to the post office, buy a three-cent stamp and mail it.
After a while his son returned. The man asked him, "Did you mail the letter?"
His son replied, "Certainly, and I have saved the three cents. I saw many people dropping letters in a box, so when nobody was looking, I dropped mine in too."
有个人叫他的儿子拿一封信到邮局去买一张三分钱的邮票把它寄出去。
过了一会儿他的儿子回来了,他问儿子:“信寄了吗?”
儿子回答说:“当然寄了,我还省了三分钱哩。我看到很多人把信投进了一个箱子,我就趁没人的时候把我的也投进去了。”
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白雪公主是广泛流行于欧洲的一个童话故事中的人物,其中最著名的故事版本见于德国1812年的《格林童话》。讲述了白雪公主受到继母皇后(格林兄弟最初手稿中为生母)的虐待,逃到森林里,遇到七个小矮人的故事。下面是读文网小编为大家带来白雪公主的英语故事带翻译,希望大家喜欢!
从前,有一个王后,她坐在窗户旁。窗外的花园里积满了雪,山上是雪,小路上是雪,树上和屋顶上也积着雪,万物一片白茫茫。她手中拿着些布和一枚针,她手中的不就像雪一样洁白。王后正在为小孩做一件上衣,她说:“我想我的孩子能够像这布一样白,想雪一样白,我要叫她'白雪公主'。”
几天之后,王后生了个小孩,这个孩子白得像雪一样,王后给她取名为“白雪公主”。但是,王后得了重病,几天以后就去世了。白雪公主活了下来,她是一个十分幸福和美丽的孩子。
王后去世一年以后,国王又娶了一位王后。新王后十分漂亮,但是,她不是一个善良的女人。一个巫师给了新王后一面镜子,这面镜子会说话,它挂在王后房间的墙上,每天王后照着镜子,欣赏自己多么漂亮。当她照镜子的时候,她问:“告诉我,墙上的魔镜,谁是世界上最漂亮的人?”于是魔镜开口说道:“王后是世界上最漂亮的。”
过了数年,白雪公主长成大人了。当白雪公主是一个年轻姑娘时,有一天,王后照着镜子说:“告诉我,墙上的魔镜,谁是世界上最漂亮的?”魔镜说:“白雪公主是世界上最漂亮的。”
当王后听到这些话时,非常恼怒,她说:“白雪公主没有我漂亮,没有一个人比我更漂亮。”然后,王后坐在床上哭了。一小时后,王后从她的房间走出来,她叫来一个仆人说:“把白雪公主带到森林中杀掉。”
仆人带着白雪公主到了森林,但他没有杀死她,因为她太美丽太善良了。他说:“我不会杀死你的,但是,你不能回王宫,因为,王后很生气,她会看到你的。如果王后发现你,她会让别人杀死你的。你就呆在森林里,会有朋友来帮助你的。”然后,他走了。
可怜的白雪公主坐在一棵树底下哭了,这时,她看到天快黑了,她说:“我不哭了,我要找所房子今晚好睡觉,我不能呆在这儿了,熊会吃了我的。”她往森林深处走去,这时,她发现了一座小屋,她打开小屋的门,走了进去。在小屋里,她看到七张小床,还有一张桌子,桌子上有七块小面包和七个小杯子。她吃了其中一块面包,然后说:“我想喝点水。”于是,她又喝了一个杯子中的一些水。之后,她躺在一张小床上睡着了。
这座小屋是七个小矮人的家。当天黑下来的时候,七个小矮人回到小屋。每个小矮人都留着一副大胡子,穿一件小蓝上衣。小矮人进了小屋,每个人都点上他们的小灯,然后,小矮人都坐下,开始吃面包,喝小杯里的水。
但是,一个小矮人说:“有人把我小面包吃了。”另一个小矮人说:“有人把我的小杯子里的水喝了。”然后,七个小矮人去睡觉。可是一个小矮人说:“有人正睡在我的小床上。”七个小矮人都过来看睡在小矮人床上的白雪公主。他们说:“她真漂亮。”
白雪公主醒了,发现七个留着大胡子的小矮人正站在她床旁,她很害怕。小矮人们说:“别害怕,我们是你的好朋友,告诉我们你是怎么来这儿的。”白雪公主说:“我告诉你们。”接着她就给他们讲述了自己的经历。他们说:“不要害怕。就在这儿和我们住在一起,但是,我们不在家的时候,你一定要关上门,千万别出去。如果你出去了,坏王后会发现你,这样,她知道你没有死,会让人来杀死你。”于是,白雪公主和七个小矮人在这座小屋里生活着。
几天以后,白雪公主去了一趟花园。王后的一个仆人正经过这片森林,他发现了阿。他回去告诉了王后:“白雪公主在森林的一座小屋里。”王后听说白雪公主没有死,十分恼火。
王后拿来一个苹果,她在苹果红的一边挖了一个洞,把一些毒的粉末放在这个洞里。然后,她穿上一身旧衣服,去了小屋。她喊:“屋里有人吗?”白雪公主打开门,出来见她。王后说:“我有一些漂亮的苹果,吃一个尝尝吧?”白雪公主拿着苹果说:“这好吃吗?”王后说:“瞧,我吃苹果白的一半,你吃红的一半,你会知道它味道不错。”白雪公主吃了苹果红的一半,当粉末进入她嘴里时,她倒下去死了。
王后回到家,进了自己的房间,对着镜子说:“告诉我,墙上的魔镜,谁是世界上最漂亮的。”魔镜说:“王后是世界上最漂亮的。”于是,王后知道白雪公主已经死了。
小矮人们回到小屋,发现白雪公主死了。可怜的小矮人们全都哭了。然后,他们把白雪公主放进玻璃棺材里,并把它抬到山坡上,安放在那里,说:“每位经过这里的人都会看见她是多么美丽。”接着每个小矮人在棺材上放了一朵白花,然后离开了。
他们刚刚要离开,一位王子从此经过,他看着玻璃棺材说:“那是什么?”这时,他发现白雪公主躺在里面,他说:“她太美丽了,把能把她放在这里,在父亲的王宫里有一座大厅,整个大厅都是用白石头砌成,我们把玻璃棺材搬到那所漂亮的白石大厅里。”小矮人们说:“抬走她吧。”
然后,王子告诉他的仆人抬起棺材。他们抬起它时,不巧一个仆人跌倒了。把棺材也摔到地上,白雪公主随同棺材跌了下来,那块苹果从她嘴里掉了出来,她醒了过来,坐起来说:“我这是在哪儿?”王子说:“你跟我在一起,我从来没有见过一位像你这么美丽的人,跟我来,做我的王后吧。”王子和白雪公主结婚了,她成了王后。
一个人去把这些消息告诉了坏王后,当她听到这些,气得倒下死去了。从那以后,白雪公主一直生活得很幸福。每年小矮人们都来看她。
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从古到今,笑话是人们生活中不可缺少的“调剂品”。笑话使人们在刻板的生活中感到一丝快意和放松,在人们的日常生活中起着重要调剂作用。下面读文网小编为大家带来少儿幽默英语故事带翻译,欢迎大家阅读!
A young writer was hoping that the editor would accept his novel. But the editor said, "You have no reason to ask me to publish your novel. It's not good enough."
The dismayed young writer seemed lost in thought, and then said, "I enclosed a stamp every time for you to return the rejected manuscripts. I think if you accept my novel, you may keep the stamp."
一个青年作者渴望主编会接受他写的小说。可是主编对他说:“你没有理由要求我发表你的小说,它不够好嘛。”
失望的青年作者好像沉思了一会,然后说:“我每次都附了邮票供你退稿时用,我想你若接受了我的小说,就可以留下邮票啦。”
以上就是读文网小编为大家带来的少儿幽默英语故事带翻译,希望大家喜欢!
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一些幽默的英语故事,能提高我们阅读英语的兴趣,从而提高英语的阅读能力,今天读文网小编在这里为大家分享一些初中英语幽默故事带翻译,欢迎大家阅读!
A bald man took a seat in a beauty shop.
"How can I help you?" asked the stylist.
"I went for a hair transplant," the guy explained, "but I couldn't stand the pain. If you can make my hair look like yours without causing me any discomfort, I will pay you $5000."
"No problem," said the stylist, and she quickly shaved her head.
一个秃头的人在一家美容店里坐了下来。
“您需要什么服务呢?”美容师问。
“我以前做过头发移植,”这个人解释道,“可是我忍受不了疼痛。假如你可以让我的头发像你的一样,却又不会给我带来什么不舒服的感觉,我就给你5000美圆。”
“没问题,”美容师说,于是,她很快剃光了自己的头发。
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笑话使人们在刻板的生活中感到一丝快意和放松,在人们的日常生活中起着重要调剂作用。下面读文网小编为大家带来简单英语幽默小故事带翻译,欢迎大家阅读!
Mother: Freddie, why is your face so red?
母亲:弗雷迪,你的脸怎么是红的?
Freddie: I was running up the street to stop a fight.
弗雷迪:我刚才在大街上跑,为的是阻止打架。
Mother: That's a very nice thing to do. Who was fighting?
母亲:这件事做得棒。谁和谁在大家呢?
Freddie: Me and Jackie Smith.
弗雷迪:我和杰基·史密斯。
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笑话使人们在刻板的生活中感到一丝快意和放松,在人们的日常生活中起着重要调剂作用。下面读文网小编为大家带来幽默简单英语故事翻译,欢迎大家阅读!
"You will be pleased with me today, mother," said Dick to his mother, coming home from school. "I saved on fares. I didn't go to school by bus, I ran all the way after it."
“今天你一定会对我感到满意的,妈妈。”从学校回来的迪克对妈妈说。“我把车费省下来了。我上学没有坐公交车,我跟着公交车一路跑到学校去的。”
"Well," said his mother laughing, "Next time you should run after a taxi, you will save much more."
“哦,”他的妈妈笑道,“下次你要跟着出租车跑,那样你会省下更多。”
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笑话使人们在刻板的生活中感到一丝快意和放松,在人们的日常生活中起着重要调剂作用。下面读文网小编为大家带来英语幽默小故事带翻译,欢迎大家阅读!
A little old lady goes to the doctor ... and says, "Doctor, I have this problem with gas, but it doesn't really bother me too much. They never smell and are always silent. As a matter of fact, I've farted at least 20 times since I've been here in your office. You didn't know I was farting because they don't smell and are silent." The doctor says, "I see. Here's a prescription. Take these pills 3 times a day for seven days and come back to see me next week." The next week the lady goes back. "Doctor," she says, "I don't know what the hell you gave me, but now my farts ... although still silent... stink terribly." The doctor says, "Good! Now that we've cleared up your sinuses, let's start working on your hearing."
有位小老太太去看医生:“医生,我有爱放屁的毛病。其实也不是大问题,只是我放屁不臭而且没声音。事实上,我在这里已经放了20多个屁,但是你并不知道对吧,因为我的屁不臭,而且还没声音。”医生说:“好的,我明白了。吃这个药片,一天三次连续吃七天,下星期你再来。”一星期后老太太来了,“医生,你到底给的我什么药,现在我放屁还是没声音,但是怎么这么臭!”医生说:“太好了!你的嗅觉正常了,现在开始治听觉。”
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笑话使人们在刻板的生活中感到一丝快意和放松,在人们的日常生活中起着重要调剂作用。下面读文网小编为大家带来英语趣味幽默故事带翻译,欢迎大家阅读!
A lawyer named Strange was shopping for a tombstone. After he had made his selection, the stonecutter asked him what inscription he would like on it. "Here lies an honest man and a lawyer," responded the lawyer. "Sorry, but I can't do that," replied the stonecutter. "In this state, it's against the law to bury two people in the same grave. However, I could put ``here lies an honest lawyer" "But that won't let people know who it is" protested the lawyer. "Certainly will," retorted the stonecutter. "people will read it and exclaim, "That's Strange!"
一个姓Strange的律师去买墓碑。他选好了以后,石匠问他,要在墓碑上刻什么碑铭。律师回答:“这里长眠着一个诚实的人,一个律师。”“对不起,我办不到,”石匠说,“要是这样的话,违反了一个坟墓只能埋葬一个人的法律。不过,我会刻上:‘这里长眠着一位诚实的律师’。” 律师抗议:“但是那样人们就不知道这里埋葬的是谁啊!”“当然知道啦,”石匠反驳道,“人们看到会惊呼‘太奇怪了!’”
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《假如给我三天光明》是作者海伦·凯勒的自传,被誉为“世界文学史上无与伦比的杰作”。她以自己的经历告诫人们应珍惜生命,珍惜造物主赐予的一切。如果你想欣赏一下这篇经典名作的话,那么就不要错过下面读文网小编为大家带来假如给我三天光明完整英文版及中文翻译,希望大家喜欢!
All of us have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limited and specified time to live. Sometimes it was as long as a year; sometimes as short as twenty-four hours.
But always we were interested in discovering just how the doomed man chose to spend his last days or his last hours. I speak, of course, of free men who have a choice, not condemned criminals whose sphere of activities is strictly delimited.
Such stories set us thinking, wondering what we should do under similar circumstances. What events, what experiences, what associations should we crowd into those last hours as mortal beings? What happiness should we find in reviewing the past, what regrets?
Sometimes I have thought it would be an excellent rule to live each day as if we should die tomorrow. Such an attitude would emphasize sharply the values of life. We should live each day with a gentleness, a vigor, and a keenness of appreciation which are often lost when time stretches before us in the constant panorama of more days and months and years to come. There are those, of course, who would adopt the Epicurean motto of "Eat, drink, and be merry," but most people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death.
In stories the doomed hero is usually saved at the last minute by some stroke of fortune, but almost always his sense of values is changed. he becomes more appreciative of the meaning of life and its permanent spiritual values. It ahs often been noted that those who live, or have lived, in the shadow of death bring a mellow sweetness to everything they do.
Most of us, however, take life for granted. We know that one day we must die, but usually we picture that day as far in the future. When we are in buoyant health, death is all but unimaginable. We seldom think of it. The days stretch out in an endless vista. So we go about our petty tasks, hardly aware of our listless attitude toward life.
The same lethargy, I am afraid, characterizes the use of all our faculties and senses. Only the deaf appreciate hearing, only the blind realize the manifold blessings that lie in sight. Particularly does this observation apply to those who have lost sight and hearing in adult life. But those who have never suffered impairment of sight or hearing seldom make the fullest use of these blessed faculties. Their eyes and ears take in all sights and sounds hazily, without concentration and with little appreciation. It is the same old story of not being grateful for what we have until we lose it, of not being conscious of health until we are ill.
I have often thought it would be a blessing if each human being were stricken blind and deaf for a few days at some time during his early adult life. Darkness would make him more appreciative of sight; silence would tech him the joys of sound.
Now and them I have tested my seeing friends to discover what they see. Recently I was visited by a very good friends who hadjust returned from a long walk in the woods, and I asked her what she had observed.. "Nothing in particular, " she replied. I might have been incredulous had I not been accustomed to such reposes, for long ago I became convinced that the seeing see little.
How was it possible, I asked myself, to walk for an hour through the woods and see nothing worthy of note? I who cannot see find hundreds of things to interest me through mere touch. I feel the delicate symmetry of a leaf. I pass my hands lovingly about the smooth skin of a silver birch, or the rough, shaggy bark of a pine. In the spring I touch the branches of trees hopefully in search of a bud the first sign of awakening Nature after her winter's sleep. I feel the delightful, velvety texture of a flower, and discover its remarkable convolutions; and something of the miracle of Nature is revealed to me. Occasionally, if I am very fortunate, I place my hand gently on a small tree and feel the happy quiver of a bird in full song. I am delighted to have the cool waters of a brook rush thought my open finger. To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug. To me the page ant of seasons is a thrilling and unending drama, the action of which streams through my finger tips.
At times my heart cries out with longing to see all these things. If I can get so much pleasure from mere touch, how much more beauty must be revealed by sight. Yet, those who have eyes apparently see little. the panorama of color and action which fills the world is taken for granted. It is human, perhaps, to appreciate little that which we have and to long for that which we have not, but it is a great pity that in the world of light the gift of sight is used only as a mere conveniences rather than as a means of adding fullness to life.
If I were the president of a university I should establish a compulsory course in "How to Use Your Eyes". The professor would try to show his pupils how they could add joy to their lives by really seeing what passes unnoticed before them. He would try to awake their dormant and sluggish faculties.
Perhaps I can best illustrate by imagining what I should most like to see if I were given the use of my eyes, say, for just three days. And while I am imagining, suppose you, too, set your mind to work on the problem of how you would use your own eyes if you had only three more days to see. If with the on-coming darkness of the third night you knew that the sun would never rise for you again, how would you spend those three precious intervening days? What would you most want to let your gaze rest upon?
I, naturally, should want most to see the things which have become dear to me through my years of darkness. You, too, would want to let your eyes rest on the things that have become dear to you so that you could take the memory of them with you into the night that loomed before you.
If, by some miracle, I were granted three seeing days, to be followed by a relapse into darkness, I should divide the period into three parts.
The First Day
On the first day, I should want to see the people whose kindness and gentleness and companionship have made my life worth living. First I should like to gaze long upon the face of my dear teacher, Mrs. Anne Sullivan Macy, who came to me when I was a child and opened the outer world to me. I should want not merely to see the outline of her face, so that I could cherish it in my memory, but to study that face and find in it the living evidence of the sympathetic tenderness and patience with which she accomplished the difficult task of my education. I should like to see in her eyes that strength of character which has enabled her to stand firm in the face of difficulties, and that compassion for all humanity which she has revealed to me so often.
I do not know what it is to see into the heart of a friend through that "Window of the soul", the eye. I can only "see" through my finger tips the outline of a face. I can detect laughter, sorrow, and many other obvious emotions. I know my friends from the feel of their faces. But I cannot really picture their personalities by touch. I know their personalities, of course, through other means, through the thoughts they express to me, through whatever of their actions are revealed to me. But I am denied that deeper understanding of them which I am sure would come through sight of them, through watching their reactions to various expressed thoughts and circumstances, through noting the immediate and fleeting reactions of their eyes and countenance.
Friends who are near to me I know well, because through the months and years they reveal themselves to me in all their phases; but of casual friends I have only an incomplete impression, an impression gained from a handclasp, from spoken words which I take from their lips with my finger tips, or which they tap into the palm of my hand.
How much easier, how much more satisfying it is for you who can see to grasp quickly the essential qualities of another person by watching the subtleties of expression, the quiver of a muscle, the flutter of a hand. But does it ever occur to you to use your sight to see into the inner nature of a friends or acquaintance/ Do not most of you seeing people grasp casually the outward features of a face and let it go at that?
For instance can you describe accurately the faces of five good friends? some of you can, but many cannot. As an experiment, I have questioned husbands of long standing about the color of their wives' eyes, and often they express embarrassed confusion and admit that they do not know. And, incidentally, it is a chronic complaint of wives that their husbandsdo not notice new dresses, new hats, and changes in household arrangements.
The eyes of seeing persons soon become accustomed to the routine of their surroundings, and they actually see only the startling and spectacular. But even in viewing the most spectacular sights the eyes are lazy. Court records reveal every day how inaccurately "eyewitnesses" see. A given event will be "seen" in several different ways by as many witnesses. Some see more than others, but few see everything that is within the range of their vision.
Oh, the things that I should see if I had the power of sight for just three days!
The first day would be a busy one.
I should call to me all my dear friends and look long into their faces, imprinting upon my mind the outward evidences of the beauty that is within them. I should let my eyes rest, too, on the face of a baby, so that I could catch a vision of the eager, innocent beauty which precedes the individual's consciousness of the conflicts which life develops.
And I should like to look into the loyal, trusting eyes of my dogs - the grave, canny little Scottie, Darkie, and the stalwart, understanding Great Dane, Helga, whose warm, tender , and playful friendships are so comforting to me.
On that busy first day I should also view the small simple things of my home. I want to see the warm colors in the rugs under my feet, the pictures on the walls, the intimate trifles that transform a house into home. My eyes would rest respectfully on the books in raised type which I have read, but they would be more eagerly interested in the printed books which seeing people can read, for during the long night of my life the books I have read and those which have been read to me have built themselves into a great shining lighthouse, revealing to me the deepest channels of human life and the human spirit.
In the afternoon of that first seeing day. I should take a long walk in the woods and intoxicate my eyes on the beauties of the world of Nature trying desperately to absorb in a few hours the vast splendor which is constantly unfolding itself to those who can see. On the way home from my woodland jaunt my path would lie near a farm so that I might see the patient horses ploughing in the field 9perhaps I should see only a tractor!) and the serene content of men living close to the soil. And I should pray for the glory of a colorful sunset.
When dusk had fallen, I should experience the double delight of being able to see by artificial light which the genius of man has created to extend the power of his sight when Nature decrees darkness.
In the night of that first day of sight, I should not be able to sleep, so full would be my mind of the memories of the day.
The Second Day
The next day - the second day of sight - I should arisewith the dawn and see the thrilling miracle by which night is transformed into day. I should behold with awe the magnificent panorama of light with which the sun awakens the sleeping earth.
This day I should devote to a hasty glimpse of the world, past and present. I should want to see the pageant of man's progress, the kaleidoscope of the ages. How can so much be compressed into one day? Through the museums, of course. Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, butI have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there - animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentations of the processes of development in animals, in man, and in the implements which man has used to fashion for himself a secure home on this planet; and a thousand and one other aspects of natural history.
I wonder how many readers of this article have viewed this panorama of the face of living things as pictured in that inspiring museum. Many, of course, have not had the opportunity, but I am sure that many who have had the opportunity have not made use of it. there, indeed, is a place to use your eyes. You who see can spend many fruitful days there, but I with my imaginary three days of sight, could only take a hasty glimpse, and pass on.
My next stop would be the Metropolitan Museum of Art, for just as the Museum of Natural History reveals the material aspects of the world, so does the Metropolitan show the myriad facets of the human spirit. Throughout the history of humanity the urge to artistic expression has been almost as powerful as the urge for food, shelter, and procreation. And here , in the vast chambers of the Metropolitan Museum, is unfolded before me the spirit of Egypt, Greece, and Rome, as expressed in their art. I know well through my hands the sculptured gods and goddesses of the ancient Nile-land. I have felt copies of Parthenon friezes, and I have sensed the rhythmic beauty of charging Athenian warriors. Apollos and Venuses and the Winged Victory of Samothrace are friends of my finger tips. The gnarled, bearded features of Homer are dear to me, for he, too, knew blindness.
My hands have lingered upon the living marble of roman sculpture as well as that of later generations. I have passed my hands over a plaster cast of Michelangelo's inspiring and heroic Moses; I have sensed the power of Rodin; I have been awed by the devoted spirit of Gothic wood carving. These arts which can be touched have meaning for me, but even they were meant to be
seen rather than felt, and I can only guess at the beauty which remains hidden from me. I can admire the simple lines of a Greek vase, but its figured decorations are lost to me.
So on this, my second day of sight, I should try to probe into the soul of man through this art. The things I knew through touch I should now see. More splendid still, the whole magnificent world of painting would be opened to me, from the Italian Primitives, with their serene religious devotion, to the Moderns, with their feverish visions. I should look deep into the canvases of Raphael, Leonardo da Vinci, Titian, Rembrandt. I should want to feast my eyes upon the warm colors of Veronese, study the mysteries of E1 Greco, catch a new vision of Nature from Corot. Oh, there is so much rich meaning and beauty in the art of the ages for you who have eyes to see!
Upon my short visit to this temple of art I should not be able to review a fraction of that great world of art which is open to you. I should be able to get only a superficial impression. Artists tell me that fordeep and true appreciation of art one must educated the eye. One must learn through experience to weigh the merits of line, of composition, of form and color. If I had eyes, how happily would I embark upon so fascinating a study! Yet I am told that, to many of you who have eyes to see, the world of art is a dark night,unexplored and unilluminated.
It would be with extreme reluctance that I should leave the Metropolitan Museum, which contains the key to beauty -- a beauty so neglected. Seeing persons, however, do not need a metropolitan to find this key to beauty. The same key lies waiting in smaller museums, and in books on the shelves of even small libraries. But naturally, in my limited time of imaginary sight, I should choose the place where the key unlocks the greatest treasures in the shortest time.
The evening of my second day of sight I should spend at a theatre or at the movies. Even now I often attend theatrical performances of all sorts, but the action of the play must be spelled into my hand by a companion. But how I should like to see with my own eyes the fascinating figure of Hamlet, or the gusty Falstaff amid colorful Elizabethan trappings! How I should like to follow each movement of the graceful Hamlet, each strut of the hearty Falstaff! And since I could see only one play, I should be confronted by a many-horned dilemma, for there are scores of plays I should want to see. You who have eyes can see any you like. How many of you, I wonder, when you gaze at a play, a movie, or any spectacle, realize and give thanks for the miracle of sight which enables you to enjoy its color , grace, and movement?
I cannot enjoy the beauty of rhythmic movement except in a sphere restricted to the touch of my hands. I can vision only dimly the grace of a Pavlowa, although I know something of the delight of rhythm, for often I can sense the beat of music as it vibrates through the floor. I can well imagine that cadenced motion must be one of the most pleasing sights in the world. I have been able to gather something of this by tracing with my fingers the lines in sculptured marble; if this static grace can be so lovely, how much more acute must be the thrill of seeing grace in motion.
One of my dearest memories is of the time when Joseph Jefferson allowed me to touch his face and hands as he went through some of the gestures and speeches of his beloved Rip Van Winkle. I was able to catch thus a meager glimpse of the world of drama, and I shall never forget the delight of that moment. But, oh, how much I must miss, and how much pleasure you seeing ones can derive from watching and hearing the interplay of speech and movement in the unfolding of a dramatic performance! If I could see only one play, I should know how to picture in mymind the action of a hundred plays which I have read or had transferred to me through the medium of the manual alphabet.
So, through the evening of my second imaginary day of sight, the great fingers of dramatic literature would crowd sleep from my eyes.
The Third Day
The following morning, I should again greet the dawn, anxious to discover new delights, for I am sure that, for those who have eyes which really see, the dawn of each day must be a perpetually new revelation of beauty.
This, according to the terms of my imagined miracle, is to be my third and last day of sight. I shall have no time to waste in regrets or longings; there is too much to see. The first day I devoted to my friends, animate and inanimate. The second revealed to me the history of man and Nature. Today I shall spend in the workaday world of the present, amid the haunts of men going about the business of life. And where can one find so many activities and conditions of men as in New York? So the city becomes my destination.
I start from my home in the quiet little suburb of Forest Hills, Long Island. Here , surrounded by green lawns, trees, and flowers, are neat little houses, happy with the voices and movements of wives and children, havens of peaceful rest for men who toil in the city. I drive across the lacy structure of steel which spans the East River, and I get a new and startling vision of the power and ingenuity of the mind of man. Busy boasts chug and scurry about the river - racy speed boat, stolid, snorting tugs. If I had long days of sight ahead, I should spend many of them watching the delightful activity upon the river.
I look ahead, and before me rise the fantastic towers of New York, a city that seems to have stepped from the pages of a fairy story. What an awe-inspiring sight, these glittering spires. these vast banks of stone and steel-structures such as the gods might build for themselves! This animated picture is a part of the lives of millions of people every day.
How many, I wonder, give it so much as a seconds glance? Very few, I fear, Their eyes are blind to this magnificent sight because it is so familiar to them.
I hurry to the top of one of those gigantic structures, the Empire State Building, for there , a short time ago, I "saw" the city below through the eyes of my secretary. I am anxious to compare my fancy with reality. I am sure I should not be disappointed in the panorama spread out before me, for to me it would be a vision of another world.
Now I begin my rounds of the city. First, I stand at a busy corner, merely looking at people, trying by sight of them to understand something of their live. I see smiles, and I am happy. I see serious determination, and I am proud, I see suffering, and I am compassionate.
I stroll down Fifth Avenue. I throw my eyes out of focus, so that I see no particular object but only a seething kaleidoscope of colors. I am certain that the colors of women's dresses moving in a throng must be a gorgeous spectacle of which I should never tire. But perhaps if I had sight I should be like most other women -- too interested in styles and the cut of individual dresses to give much attention to the splendor of color in the mass. And I am convinced, too, that I should become an inveterate window shopper, for it must be a delight to the eye to view the myriad articles of beauty on display.
From Fifth Avenue I make a tour of the city-to Park Avenue, to the slums, to factories, to parks where children play. I take a stay-at-home trip abroad by visiting the foreign quarters. Always my eyes are open wide to all the sights of both happiness and misery so that I may probe deep and add to my understanding of how people work and live. my heart is full of the images of people and things. My eye passes lightly over no single trifle; it strives to touch and hold closely each thing its gaze rests upon. Some sights are pleasant, filling the heart with happiness; but some are miserably pathetic. To these latter I do not shut my eyes, for they, too, are part of life. To close the eye on them is to close the heart and mind.
My third day of sight is drawing to an end. Perhaps there are many serious pursuits to which I should devote the few remaining hours, but I am afraid that on the evening of that last day I should again run away to the theater, to a hilariously funny play, so that I might appreciate the overtones of comedy in the human spirit.
At midnight my temporary respite from blindness would cease, and permanent night would close in on me again. Naturally in those three short days I should not have seen all I wanted to see. Only when darkness had again descended upon me should I realize how much I had left unseen. But my mind would be so crowded with glorious memories that I should have little time for regrets. Thereafter the touch of every object would bring a glowing memory of how that object looked.
Perhaps this short outline of how I should spend three days of sight does not agree with the program you would set for yourself if you knew that you were about to be stricken blind. I am, however, sure that if you actually faced that fate your eyes would open to things you had never seen before, storing up memories for the long night ahead. You would use your eyes as never before. Everything you saw would become dear to you. Your eyes would touch and embrace every object that came within your range of vision. Then, at last, you would really see, and a new world of beauty would open itself before you.
I who am blind can give one hint to those who see -- one admonition to those who would make full use of the gift of sight: Use your eyes as if tomorrow you would be stricken blind.
And the same method can be applied to the other senses. Hear the music of voices, the song of a bird, the mighty strains of an orchestra, as if you would be stricken deaf tomorrow.
Touch each object you want to touch as if tomorrow your tactile sense would fail. Smell the perfume of flowers, taste with relish each morsel, as if tomorrow you could never s
mell and taste again. Make the most of every sense: glory in all the facets of pleasure and beauty which the world reveals to you through the several means of contact which Nature provides. But of all the senses, I am sure that sight must be the most delightful.#p#副标题#e#
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小红帽是德国童话作家格林的童话《小红帽》中的人物,故事版本多达一百多个,是如今家户喻晓的经典童话故事,成了不少小朋友最喜欢的睡前故事之一。下面读文网小编为大家带来小红帽童话故事双语版,欢迎大家阅读。
Once upon a time there was a sweet little girl. Everyone who saw her liked her, but most of all her grandmother, who did not know what to give the child next. Once she gave her a little cap made of red velvet. Because it suited her so well, and she wanted to wear it all the time, she came to be known as Little Red Cap.
One day her mother said to her, "Come Little Red Cap. Here is a piece of cake and a bottle of wine. Take them to your grandmother. She is sick and weak, and they will do her well. Mind your manners and give her my greetings. Behave yourself on the way, and do not leave the path, or you might fall down and break the glass, and then there will be nothing for your grandmother. And when you enter her parlor, don't forget to say 'Good morning,' and don't peer into all the corners first."
"I'll do everything just right," said Little Red Cap, shaking her mother's hand.
The grandmother lived out in the woods, a half hour from the village. When Little Red Cap entered the woods a wolf came up to her. She did not know what a wicked animal he was, and was not afraid of him.
"Good day to you, Little Red Cap."
"Thank you, wolf."
"Where are you going so early, Little Red Cap?"
"To grandmother's."
"And what are you carrying under your apron?"
"Grandmother is sick and weak, and I am taking her some cake and wine. We baked yesterday, and they should be good for her and give her strength."
"Little Red Cap, just where does your grandmother live?"
"Her house is good quarter hour from here in the woods, under the three large oak trees. There's a hedge of hazel bushes there. You must know the place," said Little Red Cap.
The wolf thought to himself, "Now that sweet young thing is a tasty bite for me. She will taste even better than the old woman. You must be sly, and you can catch them both."
He walked along a little while with Little Red Cap, then he said, "Little Red Cap, just look at the beautiful flowers that are all around us. Why don't you go and take a look? And I don't believe you can hear how beautifully the birds are singing. You are walking along as though you were on your way to school. It is very beautiful in the woods."
Little Red Cap opened her eyes and when she saw the sunbeams dancing to and fro through the trees and how the ground was covered with beautiful flowers, she thought, "If a take a fresh bouquet to grandmother, she will be very pleased. Anyway, it is still early, and I'll be home on time." And she ran off the path into the woods looking for flowers. Each time she picked one she thought that she could see an even more beautiful one a little way off, and she ran after it, going further and further into the woods. But the wolf ran straight to the grandmother's house and knocked on the door.
"Who's there?"
"Little Red Cap. I'm bringing you some cake and wine. Open the door."
"Just press the latch," called out the grandmother. "I'm too weak to get up."
The wolf pressed the latch, and the door opened. He stepped inside, went straight to the grandmother's bed, and ate her up. Then he put on her clothes, put her cap on his head, got into her bed, and pulled the curtains shut.
Little Red Cap had run after the flowers. After she had gathered so many that she could not carry any more, she remembered her grandmother, and then continued on her way to her house. She found, to her surprise, that the door was open. She walked into the parlor, and everything looked so strange that she thought, "Oh, my God, why am I so afraid? I usually like it at grandmother's."
She called out, "Good morning!" but received no answer.
Then she went to the bed and pulled back the curtains. Grandmother was lying there with her cap pulled down over her face and looking very strange.
"Oh, grandmother, what big ears you have!"
"All the better to hear you with."
"Oh, grandmother, what big eyes you have!"
"All the better to see you with."
"Oh, grandmother, what big hands you have!"
"All the better to grab you with!"
"Oh, grandmother, what a horribly big mouth you have!"
"All the better to eat you with!"
The wolf had scarcely finished speaking when he jumped from the bed with a single leap and ate up poor Little Red Cap. As soon as the wolf had satisfied his desires, he climbed back into bed, fell asleep, and began to snore very loudly.
A huntsman was just passing by. He thought, "The old woman is snoring so loudly. You had better see if something is wrong with her."
He stepped into the parlor, and when he approached the bed, he saw the wolf lying there. "So here I find you, you old sinner," he said. "I have been hunting for you a long time."
He was about to aim his rifle when it occurred to him that the wolf might have eaten the grandmother, and that she still might be rescued. So instead of shooting, he took a pair of scissors and began to cut open the wolf's belly. After a few cuts he saw the red cap shining through., and after a few more cuts the girl jumped out, crying, "Oh, I was so frightened! It was so dark inside the wolf's body!"
And then the grandmother came out as well, alive but hardly able to breathe. Then Little Red Cap fetched some large stones. She filled the wolf's body with them, and when he woke up and tried to run away, the stones were so heavy that he immediately fell down dead.
The three of them were happy. The huntsman skinned the wolf and went home with the pelt. The grandmother ate the cake and drank the wine that Little Red Cap had brought. And Little Red Cap thought, "As long as I live, I will never leave the path and run off into the woods by myself if mother tells me not to."
They also tell how Little Red Cap was taking some baked things to her grandmother another time, when another wolf spoke to her and wanted her to leave the path. But Little Red Cap took care and went straight to grandmother's. She told her that she had seen the wolf, and that he had wished her a good day, but had stared at her in a wicked manner. "If we hadn't been on a public road, he would have eaten me up," she said.
"Come," said the grandmother. "Let's lock the door, so he can't get in."
Soon afterward the wolf knocked on the door and called out, "Open up, grandmother. It's Little Red Cap, and I'm bringing you some baked things."
They remained silent, and did not open the door. Gray-Head crept around the house several times, and finally jumped onto the roof. He wanted to wait until Little Red Cap went home that evening, then follow her and eat her up in the darkness. But the grandmother saw what he was up to. There was a large stone trough in front of the house.
"Fetch a bucket, Little Red Cap," she said to the child. "Yesterday I cooked some sausage. Carry the water that I boiled them with to the trough." Little Red Cap carried water until the large, large trough was clear full. The smell of sausage arose into the wolf's nose. He sniffed and looked down, stretching his neck so long that he could no longer hold himself, and he began to slide. He slid off the roof, fell into the trough, and drowned. And Little Red Cap returned home happily, and no one harmed her.
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《丑小鸭》是安徒生的经典童话故事之一,写了一只天鹅蛋在鸭群中破壳后,因相貌怪异,让同类鄙弃,历经千辛万苦、重重磨难之后长成了白天鹅。下面读文网小编为大家带来丑小鸭童话故事英文版及翻译,欢迎大家阅读欣赏!
It was so beautiful out on the country, it was summer- the wheat fields were golden, the oats were green, and down among the green meadows the hay was stacked. There the stork minced about on his red legs, clacking away in Egyptian, which was the language his mother had taught him. Round about the field and meadow lands rose vast forests, in which deep lakes lay hidden. Yes, it was indeed lovely out there in the country.
In the midst of the sunshine there stood an old manor house that had a deep moat around it. From the walls of the manor right down to the water's edge great burdock leaves grew, and there were some so tall that little children could stand upright beneath the biggest of them. In this wilderness of leaves, which was as dense as the forests itself, a duck sat on her nest, hatching her ducklings. She was becoming somewhat weary, because sitting is such a dull business and scarcely anyone came to see her. The other ducks would much rather swim in the moat than waddle out and squat under the burdock leaf to gossip with her.
But at last the eggshells began to crack, one after another. "Peep, peep!" said the little things, as they came to life and poked out their heads.
"Quack, quack!" said the duck, and quick as quick can be they all waddled out to have a look at the green world under the leaves. Their mother let them look as much as they pleased, because green is good for the eyes.
"How wide the world is," said all the young ducks, for they certainly had much more room now than they had when they were in their eggshells.
"Do you think this is the whole world?" their mother asked. "Why it extends on and on, clear across to the other side of the garden and right on into the parson's field, though that is further than I have ever been. I do hope you are all hatched," she said as she got up. "No, not quite all. The biggest egg still lies here. How much longer is this going to take? I am really rather tired of it all," she said, but she settled back on her nest.
"Well, how goes it?" asked an old duck who came to pay her a call.
"It takes a long time with that one egg," said the duck on the nest. "It won't crack, but look at the others. They are the cutest little ducklings I've ever seen. They look exactly like their father, the wretch! He hasn't come to see me at all."
"Let's have a look at the egg that won't crack," the old duck said. "It's a turkey egg, and you can take my word for it. I was fooled like that once myself. What trouble and care I had with those turkey children, for I may as well tell you, they are afraid of the water. I simply could not get them into it. I quacked and snapped at them, but it wasn't a bit of use. Let me see the egg. Certainly, it's a turkey egg. Let it lie, and go teach your other children to swim."
"Oh, I'll sit a little longer. I've been at it so long already that I may as well sit here half the summer."
"Suit yourself," said the old duck, and away she waddled.
At last the big egg did crack. "Peep," said the young one, and out he tumbled, but he was so big and ugly.
The duck took a look at him. "That's a frightfully big duckling," she said. "He doesn't look the least like the others. Can he really be a turkey baby? Well, well! I'll soon find out. Into the water he shall go, even if I have to shove him in myself."
Next day the weather was perfectly splendid, and the sun shone down on all the green burdock leaves. The mother duck led her whole family down to the moat. Splash! she took to the water. "Quack, quack," said she, and one duckling after another plunged in. The water went over their heads, but they came up in a flash, and floated to perfection. Their legs worked automatically, and they were all there in the water. Even the big, ugly gray one was swimming along.
"Why, that's no turkey," she said. "See how nicely he uses his legs, and how straight he holds himself. He's my very own son after all, and quite good-looking if you look at him properly. Quack, quack come with me. I'll lead you out into the world and introduce you to the duck yard. But keep close to me so that you won't get stepped on, and watch out for the cat!"
Thus they sallied into the duck yard, where all was in an uproar because two families were fighting over the head of an eel. But the cat got it, after all.
"You see, that's the way of the world." The mother duck licked her bill because she wanted the eel's head for herself. "Stir your legs. Bustle about, and mind that you bend your necks to that old duck over there. She's the noblest of us all, and has Spanish blood in her. That's why she's so fat. See that red rag around her leg? That's a wonderful thing, and the highest distinction a duck can get. It shows that they don't want to lose her, and that she's to have special attention from man and beast. Shake yourselves! Don't turn your toes in. A well-bred duckling turns his toes way out, just as his father and mother do-this way. So then! Now duck your necks and say quack!"
They did as she told them, but the other ducks around them looked on and said right out loud, "See here! Must we have this brood too, just as if there weren't enough of us already? And-fie! what an ugly-looking fellow that duckling is! We won't stand for him." One duck charged up and bit his neck.
"Let him alone," his mother said. "He isn't doing any harm."
"Possibly not," said the duck who bit him, "but he's too big and strange, and therefore he needs a good whacking."
"What nice-looking children you have, Mother," said the old duck with the rag around her leg. "They are all pretty except that one. He didn't come out so well. It's a pity you can't hatch him again."
"That can't be managed, your ladyship," said the mother. "He isn't so handsome, but he's as good as can be, and he swims just as well as the rest, or, I should say, even a little better than they do. I hope his looks will improve with age, and after a while he won't seem so big. He took too long in the egg, and that's why his figure isn't all that it should be." She pinched his neck and preened his feathers. "Moreover, he's a drake, so it won't matter so much. I think he will be quite strong, and I'm sure he will amount to something."
"The other ducklings are pretty enough," said the old duck. "Now make yourselves right at home, and if you find an eel's head you may bring it to me."
So they felt quite at home. But the poor duckling who had been the last one out of his egg, and who looked so ugly, was pecked and pushed about and made fun of by the ducks, and the chickens as well. "He's too big," said they all. The turkey gobbler, who thought himself an emperor because he was born wearing spurs, puffed up like a ship under full sail and bore down upon him, gobbling and gobbling until he was red in the face. The poor duckling did not know where he dared stand or where he dared walk. He was so sad because he was so desperately ugly, and because he was the laughing stock of the whole barnyard.
So it went on the first day, and after that things went from bad to worse. The poor duckling was chased and buffeted about by everyone. Even his own brothers and sisters abused him. "Oh," they would always say, "how we wish the cat would catch you, you ugly thing." And his mother said, "How I do wish you were miles away." The ducks nipped him, and the hens pecked him, and the girl who fed them kicked him with her foot.
So he ran away; and he flew over the fence. The little birds in the bushes darted up in a fright. "That's because I'm so ugly," he thought, and closed his eyes, but he ran on just the same until he reached the great marsh where the wild ducks lived. There he lay all night long, weary and disheartened.
When morning came, the wild ducks flew up to have a look at their new companion. "What sort of creature are you?" they asked, as the duckling turned in all directions, bowing his best to them all. "You are terribly ugly," they told him, "but that's nothing to us so long as you don't marry into our family."
Poor duckling! Marriage certainly had never entered his mind. All he wanted was for them to let him lie among the reeds and drink a little water from the marsh.
There he stayed for two whole days. Then he met two wild geese, or rather wild ganders-for they were males. They had not been out of the shell very long, and that's what made them so sure of themselves.
"Say there, comrade," they said, "you're so ugly that we have taken a fancy to you. Come with us and be a bird of passage. In another marsh near-by, there are some fetching wild geese, all nice young ladies who know how to quack. You are so ugly that you'll completely turn their heads."
Bing! Bang! Shots rang in the air, and these two ganders fell dead among the reeds. The water was red with their blood. Bing! Bang! the shots rang, and as whole flocks of wild geese flew up from the reeds another volley crashed. A great hunt was in progress. The hunters lay under cover all around the marsh, and some even perched on branches of trees that overhung the reeds. Blue smoke rose like clouds from the shade of the trees, and drifted far out over the water.
The bird dogs came splash, splash! through the swamp, bending down the reeds and the rushes on every side. This gave the poor duckling such a fright that he twisted his head about to hide it under his wing. But at that very moment a fearfully big dog appeared right beside him. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and his wicked eyes glared horribly. He opened his wide jaws, flashed his sharp teeth, and - splash, splash - on he went without touching the duckling.
"Thank heavens," he sighed, "I'm so ugly that the dog won't even bother to bite me."
He lay perfectly still, while the bullets splattered through the reeds as shot after shot was fired. It was late in the day before things became quiet again, and even then the poor duckling didn't dare move. He waited several hours before he ventured to look about him, and then he scurried away from that marsh as fast as he could go. He ran across field and meadows. The wind was so strong that he had to struggle to keep his feet.
Late in the evening he came to a miserable little hovel, so ramshackle that it did not know which way to tumble, and that was the only reason it still stood. The wind struck the duckling so hard that the poor little fellow had to sit down on his tail to withstand it. The storm blew stronger and stronger, but the duckling noticed that one hinge had come loose and the door hung so crooked that he could squeeze through the crack into the room, and that's just what he did.
Here lived an old woman with her cat and her hen. The cat, whom she called "Sonny," could arch his back, purr, and even make sparks, though for that you had to stroke his fur the wrong way. The hen had short little legs, so she was called "Chickey Shortleg." She laid good eggs, and the old woman loved her as if she had been her own child.
In the morning they were quick to notice the strange duckling. The cat began to purr, and the hen began to cluck.
"What on earth!" The old woman looked around, but she was short-sighted, and she mistook the duckling for a fat duck that had lost its way. "That was a good catch," she said. "Now I shall have duck eggs-unless it's a drake. We must try it out." So the duckling was tried out for three weeks, but not one egg did he lay.
In this house the cat was master and the hen was mistress. They always said, "We and the world," for they thought themselves half of the world, and much the better half at that. The duckling thought that there might be more than one way of thinking, but the hen would not hear of it.
"Can you lay eggs?" she asked
"No."
"Then be so good as to hold your tongue."
The cat asked, "Can you arch your back, purr, or make sparks?"
"No."
"Then keep your opinion to yourself when sensible people are talking."
The duckling sat in a corner, feeling most despondent. Then he remembered the fresh air and the sunlight. Such a desire to go swimming on the water possessed him that he could not help telling the hen about it.
"What on earth has come over you?" the hen cried. "You haven't a thing to do, and that's why you get such silly notions. Lay us an egg, or learn to purr, and you'll get over it."
"But it's so refreshing to float on the water," said the duckling, "so refreshing to feel it rise over your head as you dive to the bottom."
"Yes, it must be a great pleasure!" said the hen. "I think you must have gone crazy. Ask the cat, who's the wisest fellow I know, whether he likes to swim or dive down in the water. Of myself I say nothing. But ask the old woman, our mistress. There's no one on earth wiser than she is. Do you imagine she wants to go swimming and feel the water rise over her head?"
"You don't understand me," said the duckling.
"Well, if we don't, who would? Surely you don't think you are cleverer than the cat and the old woman-to say nothing of myself. Don't be so conceited, child. Just thank your Maker for all the kindness we have shown you. Didn't you get into this snug room, and fall in with people who can tell you what's what? But you are such a numbskull that it's no pleasure to have you around. Believe me, I tell you this for your own good. I say unpleasant truths, but that's the only way you can know who are your friends. Be sure now that you lay some eggs. See to it that you learn to purr or to make sparks."
"I think I'd better go out into the wide world," said the duckling.
"Suit yourself," said the hen.
So off went the duckling. He swam on the water, and dived down in it, but still he was slighted by every living creature because of his ugliness.
Autumn came on. The leaves in the forest turned yellow and brown. The wind took them and whirled them about. The heavens looked cold as the low clouds hung heavy with snow and hail. Perched on the fence, the raven screamed, "Caw, caw!" and trembled with cold. It made one shiver to think of it. Pity the poor little duckling!
One evening, just as the sun was setting in splendor, a great flock of large, handsome birds appeared out of the reeds. The duckling had never seen birds so beautiful. They were dazzling white, with long graceful necks. They were swans. They uttered a very strange cry as they unfurled their magnificent wings to fly from this cold land, away to warmer countries and to open waters. They went up so high, so very high, that the ugly little duckling felt a strange uneasiness come over him as he watched them. He went around and round in the water, like a wheel. He craned his neck to follow their course, and gave a cry so shrill and strange that he frightened himself. Oh! He could not forget them-those splendid, happy birds. When he could no longer see them he dived to the very bottom. and when he came up again he was quite beside himself. He did not know what birds they were or whither they were bound, yet he loved them more than anything he had ever loved before. It was not that he envied them, for how could he ever dare dream of wanting their marvelous beauty for himself? He would have been grateful if only the ducks would have tolerated him-the poor ugly creature.
The winter grew cold - so bitterly cold that the duckling had to swim to and fro in the water to keep it from freezing over. But every night the hole in which he swam kept getting smaller and smaller. Then it froze so hard that the duckling had to paddle continuously to keep the crackling ice from closing in upon him. At last, too tired to move, he was frozen fast in the ice.
Early that morning a farmer came by, and when he saw how things were he went out on the pond, broke away the ice with his wooden shoe, and carried the duckling home to his wife. There the duckling revived, but when the children wished to play with him he thought they meant to hurt him. Terrified, he fluttered into the milk pail, splashing the whole room with milk. The woman shrieked and threw up her hands as he flew into the butter tub, and then in and out of the meal barrel. Imagine what he looked like now! The woman screamed and lashed out at him with the fire tongs. The children tumbled over each other as they tried to catch him, and they laughed and they shouted. Luckily the door was open, and the duckling escaped through it into the bushes, where he lay down, in the newly fallen snow, as if in a daze.
But it would be too sad to tell of all the hardships and wretchedness he had to endure during this cruel winter. When the warm sun shone once more, the duckling was still alive among the reeds of the marsh. The larks began to sing again. It was beautiful springtime.
Then, quite suddenly, he lifted his wings. They swept through the air much more strongly than before, and their powerful strokes carried him far. Before he quite knew what was happening, he found himself in a great garden where apple trees bloomed. The lilacs filled the air with sweet scent and hung in clusters from long, green branches that bent over a winding stream. Oh, but it was lovely here in the freshness of spring!
From the thicket before him came three lovely white swans. They ruffled their feathers and swam lightly in the stream. The duckling recognized these noble creatures, and a strange feeling of sadness came upon him.
"I shall fly near these royal birds, and they will peck me to bits because I, who am so very ugly, dare to go near them. But I don't care. Better be killed by them than to be nipped by the ducks, pecked by the hens, kicked about by the hen-yard girl, or suffer such misery in winter."
So he flew into the water and swam toward the splendid swans. They saw him, and swept down upon him with their rustling feathers raised. "Kill me!" said the poor creature, and he bowed his head down over the water to wait for death. But what did he see there, mirrored in the clear stream? He beheld his own image, and it was no longer the reflection of a clumsy, dirty, gray bird, ugly and offensive. He himself was a swan! Being born in a duck yard does not matter, if only you are hatched from a swan's egg.
He felt quite glad that he had come through so much trouble and misfortune, for now he had a fuller understanding of his own good fortune, and of beauty when he met with it. The great swans swam all around him and stroked him with their bills.
Several little children came into the garden to throw grain and bits of bread upon the water. The smallest child cried, "Here's a new one," and the others rejoiced, "yes, a new one has come." They clapped their hands, danced around, and ran to bring their father and mother.
And they threw bread and cake upon the water, while they all agreed, "The new one is the most handsome of all. He's so young and so good-looking." The old swans bowed in his honor.
Then he felt very bashful, and tucked his head under his wing. He did not know what this was all about. He felt so very happy, but he wasn't at all proud, for a good heart never grows proud. He thought about how he had been persecuted and scorned, and now he heard them all call him the most beautiful of all beautiful birds. The lilacs dipped their clusters into the stream before him, and the sun shone so warm and so heartening. He rustled his feathers and held his slender neck high, as he cried out with full heart: "I never dreamed there could be so much happiness, when I was the ugly duckling."#p#副标题#e#
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