作者：(丹)安徒生（Andersen,H.C.）
出版社：清华大学出版社
格式: AZW3, DOCX, EPUB, MOBI, PDF, TXT
拇指姑娘(插图·中文导读英文版)试读：
前言
汉斯·克里斯蒂安·安徒生（Hans Christian Andersen，1805—1875）是丹麦19世纪著名作家、诗人，名扬世界的童话大师，被誉为“现代童话之父”。
安徒生1805年4月2日出生于丹麦中部富恩岛上的奥登塞小镇的一个贫苦家庭，早年在慈善学校读过书，当过学徒工。受父亲和民间口头文学影响，他自幼酷爱文学。11岁时父亲病逝，母亲改嫁。14岁时他只身来到首都哥本哈根，在哥本哈根皇家剧院当了一名小配角。之后，在皇家剧院的资助下入斯拉格尔塞文法学校和赫尔辛欧学校就读。1828年，进入哥本哈根大学学习。安徒生文学创作生涯始于1822年，早期主要撰写诗歌和剧本。进入大学后，创作日趋成熟。曾发表游记和歌舞喜剧，出版诗集和诗剧。1833年出版了长篇小说《即兴诗人》，该小说奠定了他在丹麦文坛的地位。然而，使安徒生名扬天下的却是他的童话故事。
安徒生一生共计写了童话168篇，他的童话具有独特的艺术风格：即诗意的美和喜剧性的幽默。其中“卖火柴的小女孩”、“拇指姑娘”、“皇帝的新装”、“丑小鸭”、“红鞋”、“豌豆上的公主”和“夜莺”等已成为世界童话宝库中的经典名篇。安徒生的童话同民间文学有着血缘关系，继承并发扬了民间文学朴素清新的格调。他早期的作品大多取材于民间故事，后期创作中也引用了很多民间歌谣和传说。在体裁和写作手法上，安徒生的作品是多样化的，有童话故事，也有短篇小说；有寓言，也有诗歌；既适合于儿童阅读，也适合于成年人鉴赏。在语言风格上，安徒生是一个有高度创造性的作家，在作品中大量运用丹麦下层人民的日常口语和民间故事的结构形式，语言生动、自然、流畅、优美，充满浓郁的乡土气息。《安徒生童话》问世100多年来，至今被译成世界上150多种文字，而其中的中文译本也是不计其数。国内引进的《安徒生童话》读本主要集中在两个方面：一种是中文翻译版，另一种是中英文对照版。而其中的中英文对照读本比较受青少年读者的欢迎，这主要是得益于中国人热衷于学习英文的大环境。而从英文学习的角度上来看，直接使用纯英文的学习资料更有利于英语学习。考虑到对英文内容背景的了解有助于英文阅读，使用中文导读应该是一种比较好的方式，也可以说是该类型书的第三种版本形式，这也是我们编写本书的主要原因。采用中文导读而非中英文对照的方式进行编排，这样有利于国内读者摆脱对英文阅读依赖中文注释的习惯。在中文导读中，我们尽力使其贴近原作的精髓，也尽可能保留原作简洁、精练、明快的风格，丰满、艳丽的形象。我们希望能够编出为当代中国青少年读者所喜爱的经典读本。读者在阅读英文故事之前，可以先阅读中文导读部分，这样有利于了解故事背景，从而加快阅读速度、提高阅读水平。
本书主要内容由王勋、纪飞编译。参加本书故事素材搜集整理及编译工作的还有郑佳、刘乃亚、赵雪、左新杲、黄福成、冯洁、徐鑫、马启龙、王业伟、王旭敏、陈楠、王多多、邵舒丽、周丽萍、王晓旭、李永振、孟宪行、熊红华、胡国平、熊建国、徐平国、王小红等。限于我们的文学素养和英语水平，书中难免会有不当之处，衷心希望读者朋友批评指正。1.拇指姑娘/Thumbelina导读
从前有一个女人，很想要一个小小的孩子。于是她去问一个巫婆。巫婆给了女人一粒大麦粒，让她种在花盆里。女人回家就把它种在了花盆里，很快就长出了一大朵美丽的花儿。女人在花苞漂亮的花瓣上吻了一下，花儿就开放了，花的中央坐着一位娇小的姑娘，又白嫩又可爱，人们就把她叫做拇指姑娘。
拇指姑娘以漂亮胡桃壳为床，用花瓣做被褥。一天，当拇指姑娘正在睡觉的时候，一只癞蛤蟆从窗外跳了进来。它看到美丽的拇指姑娘，就想让她做自己的儿媳妇。于是癞蛤蟆背起胡桃壳跳到了花园里。癞蛤蟆和它的儿子就住在花园的小溪旁边，那里又低又潮湿。为了不让拇指姑娘逃走，癞蛤蟆把她放在了小溪里最大的一片绿色睡莲上。早上，当拇指姑娘醒来的时候，不禁大哭起来，因为她不愿意嫁给那个癞蛤蟆的丑儿子，也不愿意住在泥巴里面。
小溪里的鱼儿很喜欢拇指姑娘，它们也不愿意看到这么美丽的姑娘下嫁给一只癞蛤蟆。于是，鱼儿们集合起来把睡莲的叶梗咬断，拇指姑娘就随着这片叶子顺水漂走了。叶子漂了很远很远，最后漂到了外国。一只巨大的金龟子看到了拇指姑娘，觉得她十分好看，就带着她飞到了树上。可是金龟子小姐们一点儿也不喜欢拇指姑娘，一个劲儿地说她丑。终于，那只劫持她的大金龟子把她放在一朵雏菊上面，不要她了。拇指姑娘坐在花中央
拇指姑娘独自在树林里艰难地度过了夏天和秋天。当雪花飘落的时候，她来到了树林附近的一块很大的麦田。一只好心的田鼠收留了又冷又饿的拇指姑娘。于是拇指姑娘就在田鼠的洞里住了下来，给田鼠讲故事听。不久，田鼠的一个朋友鼹鼠来了，它眼睛看不见，但比田鼠还要富有。田鼠希望拇指姑娘嫁给鼹鼠，唱好听的歌儿给鼹鼠听。可是拇指姑娘一点也不愿意嫁给穿着黑天鹅绒袍子的鼹鼠。鼹鼠是那么的讨厌阳光和美丽的花朵，它住在阴暗的地下看不到这些。在鼹鼠和田鼠家之间的通道里，有一只冻僵的燕子，这只鸟儿在夏天的时候曾为拇指姑娘唱过美妙动听的歌儿。冬天到来的时候，燕子们都要飞到温暖的国度去过冬，这只可怜的燕子因为伤了翅膀没能跟上队伍，最后落到地上，被冰冷的雪花覆盖了。善良的拇指姑娘很同情这只鸟儿，就用草编织了一床温暖的毯子盖在鸟儿身上，还用花瓣给它送水喝。就这样在拇指姑娘的精心照顾下，燕子慢慢苏醒了，在这里住了整个冬天。
春天来了，燕子要飞走了，它想带着拇指姑娘一起离开这个阴暗的地洞。可是拇指姑娘怕田鼠会伤心，而不肯离开。于是燕子独自飞向了绿色的树林。夏天来临的时候，鼹鼠向拇指姑娘求婚了，并请来了四位蜘蛛帮拇指姑娘缝制新嫁衣。可怜的拇指姑娘一点也不高兴，因为她不喜欢那只丑陋的鼹鼠。婚礼就要举行的时候，拇指姑娘来到洞口，她要和美丽耀眼的阳光告别，嫁给鼹鼠之后，就再也见不到阳光了，因为鼹鼠痛恨阳光。拇指姑娘伤心地走到洞口，忽然听见了燕子的歌声。原来冬天又要来了，燕子又要飞到温暖的国度去。燕子听说了拇指姑娘的遭遇，就让她坐在自己的背上，带她一起飞到了温暖的国度，一个到处是盛开着鲜花和绿色的树木的地方。在那里，拇指姑娘认识了住在鲜花里面的精灵，他们是和拇指姑娘一样大的人儿，其中一位英俊的男子是他们的国王。这位王子爱上了拇指姑娘，最后，拇指姑娘就嫁给了王子。
There was once a woman who wished for a very little child；but she did not know where she should procure one. So she went to an old witch, and said，
“I do so very much wish for a little child！Can you not tell me where I can get one？”
“Oh！That could easily be managed，”said the witch.“There you have a barleycorn：that is not of the kind which grows in the countryman's field, and which the chickens get to eat. Put it into a flowe-pot, and you shall see what you shall see.”
“Thank you，”said the woman；and she gave the witch a groat.
Then she went home and planted the barleycorn, and immediately there grew up a great handsome flower, which looked like a tulip；but the leaves were tightly closed, as though it were still a bud.
“It is a beautiful flower，”said the woman；and she kissed its beautiful yellow and red leaves. But just as she kissed it the flower opened with a loud crack.It was a real tulip, as one could now see；but in the middle of the flower there sat upon the green stamens a little maiden, delicate and graceful to behold.She was scarcely half a thumb's length in height, and therefore she was called Thumbelina.在睡莲叶上
A neat polished walnut-shell served Thumbelina for a cradle, blue violet-leaves were her mattresses, with a rose-leaf for a coverlet. There she slept at night；but in the daytime she played upon the table, where the woman had put a plate with a wreath of flowers around it, whose stalks stood in water；on the water swam a great tulip-leaf, and on this the little maiden could sit, and row from one side of the plate to the other, with two white horse-hairs for oars.That looked pretty indeed！She could also sing, and, indeed, so delicately and sweetly, that the like had never been heard.
One night as she lay in her pretty bed, there came a horrid old Toad hopping in at the window, in which one pane was broken. The Toad was very ugly, big, and damp：it hopped straight down upon the table, where Thumbelina lay sleeping under the red rose-leaf.
“That would be a handsome wife for my son，”said the Toad；and she took the walnut-shell in which Thumbelina lay asleep, and hopped with it through the window down into the garden.
There ran a great broad brook；but the margin was swampy and soft, and here the Toad dwelt with her son. Ugh！He was ugly, and looked just like his mother.“Croak！croak！Brek kek-kex！”that was all he could say when he saw the graceful little maiden in the walnut-shell.
“Don't speak so loud, or she will awake，”said the old Toad.“She might run away from us yet, for she is as light as a bit of swan's-down. We will put her out in the brook upon one of thebroad water-lily leaves.That will be just like an island for her, she is so small and light.Then she can't get away, while we put the state-room under the mud in order, where you are to live and keep house together.”
Out in the brook there grew many water-lilies with broad green leaves, which looked as if they were floating on the water. The leaf which lay farthest out was also the greatest of all, and to that the old Toad swam out and laid the walnut-shell upon it with Thumbelina.The poor little thing woke early in the morning, and when she saw where she was, she began to cry very bitterly；for there was water on every side of the great green leaf, and she could not get to land at all.The old Toad sat down in the mud, decking out her room with sedges and yellow water-lilies—it was to be made very pretty for the new daughter-in-law；then she swam out, with her ugly son, to the leaf on which Thumbelina was.They wanted to take her pretty bed, which was to be put in the bridal chamber before she went in there herself.The old Toad bowed low before her in the water, and said，
“Here is my son；he will be your husband, and you will live splendidly together in the mud.”
“Croak！croak！Brek-kek-kex！”was all the son could say.
Then they took the elegant little bed, and swam away with it；but Thumbelina sat all alone upon the green leaf and wept, for she did not like to live at the nasty Toad's, and have her ugly son for a husband. The little fishes swimming in the water below had both seen the Toad, and had also heard what she said；therefore they stretched forth their heads, for they wanted to see the little girl.So soon as they saw her they considered her so pretty that they felt very sorry she should have to go down to the ugly Toad.No, that must never be！They assembled together in the water around the green stalk which held the leaf on which the little maiden stood, and with their teeth they gnawed away the stalk, and so the leaf swam down the stream；and away went Thumbelina far away.where the Toad could not get at her.金龟子看到了漂亮的拇指姑娘
Thumbelina sailed by many places, and the little birds which sat in the bushes saw her, and said，”What a lovely little girl！”The leaf swam away with her, farther and farther；so Thumbelina travelled out of the country.
A graceful little white butterfly continued to flutter round her, and at last alighted on the leaf. Thumbelina pleased him, and she was so delighted, for now the Toad could not reach her；and it was so beautiful where she was floating along—the sun shone upon the water, it was just like shining gold.She took her girdle and bound one end of it round the butterfly, fastening the other end of the ribbon to the leaf.The leaf now glided onward much faster, and Thumbelina too, for she stood upon the leaf.
There came a big Cockchafer flying up；and he saw her, and immediately clasped his claws round her slender waist, and flewwith her up into a tree. The green leaf went swimming down the brook, and the butterfly with it；for he was fastened to the leaf, and could not get away from it.
Mercy！How frightened poor little Thumbelina was when the Cockchafer flew with her up into the tree！But especially she was sorry for the fine white butterfly whom she had bound fast to the leaf, for, if he could not free himself from it, he would be forced to starve to death. The Cockchafer, however, did not trouble himself at all about this.He seated himself with her upon the biggest green leaf of the tree, gave her the sweet part of the flowers to eat, and declared that she was very pretty, though she did not in the least resemble a cockchafer.After wards came all the other cockchafers who lived in the tree to pay a visit：they looked at Thumbelina, and the lady cockchafers shrugged their feelers and said，
“Why, she has not even more than two legs！—That has a wretched appearance.”
“She has not any feelers！”cried another.
“Her waist is quite slender—fie！She looks like a human creature—how ugly she is！”said all the lady cockchafers.
And yet Thumbelina was very pretty. Even the Cockchafer who had carried her off thought so；but when all the others declared she was ugly, he believed it at last, and would not have her at all—she might go whither she liked.Then they flew down with her from the tree, and set her upon a daisy, and she wept, because she was so ugly that the cockchafers would not have her；and yet she was the loveliest little being one could imagine, and as tender and delicate as a rose-leaf.田鼠收留了拇指姑娘
The whole summer through poor Thumbelina lived quite alone in the great wood. She wove herself a bed out of blades of grass, and hung it up under a large burdock leaf, so that she was protected from the rain；she plucked the honey out of the flowers for food, and drank of the dew which stood every morning upon the leaves.Thus summer and autumn passed away；but now came winter, the cold long winter.All the birds who had sung so sweetly to her flew away；trees and flowers shed their leaves；the great burdock leaf under which she had lived shrivelled up, and there remained nothing of it but a yellow withered stalk；and she was dreadfully cold, for her clothes were torn, and she herself was so frail and delicate—poor little Thumbelina！She was nearly frozen.It began to snow, and every snow-flake that fell upon her was like a whole shovelfull thrown upon one of us, for we are tall, and she was only an inch long.Then she wrapped herself in a dry leaf, but that would not warm her—she shivered with cold.
Close to the wood into which she had now come lay a great corn-field, but the corn was gone long ago；only the naked dry stubble stood up out of the frozen ground. These were just like a great forest for her to wander through；and, oh！How she trembled with cold.Then she arrived at the door of the Field Mouse.Thismouse had a little hole under the stubble.There the Field Mouse lived, warm and comfortable, and had a whole room-full of corn—a glorious kitchen and larder.Poor Thumbelina stood at the door just like a poor beggar girl, and begged for a little bit of a barleycorn, for she had not had the smallest morsel to eat for the last two days.
“You poor little creature，”said the Field Mouse—for after all she was a good old Field Mouse—“come into my warm room and dine with me.”
As she was pleased with Thumbelina, she said，“If you like you may stay with me through the winter, but you must keep my room clean and neat, and tell me stories, for I am very fond of them.”
And Thumbelina did as the kind old Field Mouse bade her, and had a very good time of it.
“Now we shall soon have a visitor，”said the Field Mouse.“My neighbour is in the habit of visiting me once a week. He is even better off than I am, has great rooms, and a beautiful black velvety fur.If you could only get him for your husband you would be well provided for；but he cannot see at all.You must tell him the very prettiest stories you know.”
But Thumbelina did not care about this；she would not have the neighbour at all, for he was a Mole. He came and paid his visits in his black velvet coat.The Field Mouse told how rich and how learned he was, and how his house was more than twenty times larger than hers；that he had learning, but that he did not like the sunand beautiful flowers, and said nasty things about them, for he had never seen them.
Thumbelina had to sing, and she sang“Cockchafer, fly away，”and“When the parson goes afield.”Then the Mole fell in love with her, because of her delicious voice；but he said nothing, for he was a sedate man.
A short time before, he had dug a long passage through the earth from his own house to theirs；and Thumbelina and the Field Mouse obtained leave to walk in this passage as much as they wished. But he begged them not to be afraid of the dead bird which was lying in the passage.It was an entire bird, with wings and a beak.It certainly must have died only a short time before, when the winter began, and was now buried just where the Mole had made his passage.
The Mole took a bit of decayed wood in his mouth, for that glimmers like fire in the dark；and then he went first and lighted them through the long dark passage. When they came where the dead bird lay, the Mole thrust up his broad nose against the ceiling and pushed the earth, so that a great hole was made, through which the daylight could shine down.In the middle of the floor lay a dead Swallow, his beautiful wings pressed close against his sides, and his head and feet drawn in under his feathers：the poor bird had certainly died of cold.Thumbelina was very sorry for this；she was very fond of all the little birds, who had sung and twittered soprettily for her through the summer；but the Mole gave him a push with his short legs, and said，“Now he doesn't pipe any more.It must be miserable to be born a little bird.I'm thankful that none of my children can be that：such a bird has nothing but his‘tweet-tweet'，and has to starve in the winter！”
“Yes, you may well say that, like a sensible man，”observed the Field Mouse.“Of what use is all this‘tweet-tweet'to a bird when the winter comes？He must starve and freeze. But they say that's very aristocratic.”
Thumbelina said nothing；but when the two others turned their backs on the bird, she bent down, put the feathers aside which covered his head, and kissed him upon his closed eyes.
“Perhaps it was he who sang so prettily to me in the summer，”she thought.“How much pleasure he gave me, the dear beautiful bird！”
The Mole now closed up the hole through which the daylight shone in, and accompanied the ladies home. But at night Thumbelina could not sleep at all；so she got up out of her bed, and wove a large beautiful carpet of hay, and carried it and spread it over the dead bird, and laid soft cotton, which she had found in the Field Mouse's room, at the bird's sides, so that he might lie warm in the cold ground.
“Farewell, you pretty little bird！”said she.“Farewell！And thanks to you for your beautiful song in the summer, when all thetrees were green, and the sun shone down warmly upon us.”And then she laid her head on the bird's breast, but at once was greatly startled, for it felt as if something were beating inside there. That was the bird's swallow she；heart.The bird was not dead；he was only lying there torpid with cold；and now he had been warmed, and came to life again.
In autumn all the swallows fly away to warm countries but if one happens to be belated, it becomes so cold that it falls down as if dead, and lies where it falls, and then the cold snow covers it.
Thumbelina fairly trembled, she was so startled；for the bird was large, very large, compared with her, who was only an inch in height. But she took courage, laid the cotton closer round the poor bird, and brought a leaf of mint that she had used as her own coverlet, and laid it over the bird's head.
The next night she crept out to him again—and now he was alive, but quite weak；he could only open his eyes for a moment, and look at Thumbelina, who stood before him with a bit of decayed wood in her hand, for she had no other lantern.
“I thank you, you pretty little child，”said the sick Swallow；“I have been famously warmed. Soon I shall get my strength back again, find I shall be able to fly about in the warm sunshine.”
“Oh，”she said，“it is so cold without. It snows and freezes.Stay in your warm bed, and I will nurse you.”
Then she brought the Swallow water in the petal of a flower；and the Swallow drank, and told her how he had torn one of his wings in a thorn bush, and thus hadnot been able to fly as fast as the other swallows, which had sped away, far away, to the warm countries. So at last he had fallen to the ground, but he could remember nothing more, and did not know at all how he had come where she had found him.
The whole winter the Swallow remained there, and Thumbelina nursed and tended him heartily. Neither the Field Mouse nor the Mole heard anything about it, for they did not like the poor Swallow.So soon as the spring came, and the sun warmed the earth, the Swallow bade Thumbelina farewell, and she opened the hole which the Mole had made in the ceiling.The sun shone in upon them gloriously, and the Swallow asked if Thumbelina would go with him；she could sit upon his back.and they would fly away far into the green wood.But Thumbelina knew that the old Field Mouse would be grieved if she left her.
“No, I cannot！”said Thumbelina.
“Farewell, farewell, you good, pretty girl！”said the Swallow；and he flew out into the sunshine. Thumbelina looked after him, and the tears came into her eyes, for she was so fond of the poor Swallow.
“Tweet-weet！Tweet-weet！”sang the bird, and flew into the green forest. Thumbelina felt very sad.She did not got permission to go out into the warm sunshine.The corn which was sown in the field overthe house of the Field Mouse grew up high into the air；it was quite a thick wood for the poor girl, who was only an inch in height.
“Now you must work at your outfit this summer，”said the Field Mouse to her；for her neighbour, the tiresome Mole with the velvet coat, had proposed to her.“You shall have woolen and linen clothes both；you will lack nothing when you have become the Mole's wife.”
Thumbelina had to turn the spindle, and the Mole hired four spiders to spin and weave for her day and night. Every evening the Mole paid her a visit；and he was always saying that when the summer should draw to a close, the sun would not shine nearly so hot, for that now it burned the earth almost as hard as a stone.Yes, when the summer should have gone, then he would keep his wedding day with Thumbelina.But she was not glad at all, for she did not like the tiresome Mole.Every morning when the sun rose, and every evening when went down, she crept out at the door；and when the wind blew the corn ears apart, so that she could see the blue sky, she thought how bright and beautiful it was out here, and wined so much to see her dear Swallow again.But the Swallow did not come back；he had doubtless flown far away, in the fair green forest.When autumn came on, Thumbelina had all her outfit ready.
“In four weeks you shall celebrate your wedding，”said the Field Mouse to her.
But Thumbelina wept, and declared she would not have thetiresome Mole.
“Nonsense，”said the Field Mouse；“don't be obstinate, or I will bite you with my white teeth. He is a very fine man whom you will marry.The queen herself has not such a black velvet fur；and his kitchen and cellar are full.Be thankful for your good fortune.”
Now the wedding was to be held. The Mole had already come to fetch Thumbelina；she was to live with him, deep under the earth, and never to come out into the warm sunshine, for that he did not like.The poor little thing was very sorrowful；she was now to say farewell to the glorious sun, which, after all, she had been allowed by the Field Mouse to see from the threshold of the door.
“Farewell, thou bright sun！”she said, and stretched out her arms towards it, and walked a little way forth from the house of the Field Mouse, for now the corn had been reaped, and only the dry stubble stood in the fields.“Farewell！”she repeated, and threw her little arms round a little red flower which still bloomed there.“Greet the dear Swallow from me, if you see her again.”
“Tweet-weet！Tweet-weet！”a voice suddenly, sounded over her head. She looked up；it was the Swallow, who was just flying by.When he saw Thumbelina he was very glad；and Thumbelina told him how loth she was to have the ugly Mole for her husband, and that she was to live deep under the earth, where the sun never shone.And she could not refrain from weeping.
“The cold winter is coming now，”said the Swallow；“I amgoing to fly far away into the warm countries. Will you come with me？You can sit upon my back, only tie yourself fast with your sash, then we shall fly from the ugly Mole and his dark room—away, far away, over the mountains, to the warm countries, where the sun shines more beautifully than here, where it is always summer, and there are lovely flowers.Only fly with me, you dear little Thumbelina, you who saved my life when I lay frozen in the dark earthy passage.”
“Yes, I will go with you！”said Thumbelina, and she seated herself on the bird's back, with her feet on his out-spread wings, and bound her girdle fast to one of his strongest feathers；then the Swallow flew up into the air over forest and over sea, high up over the great mountains, where the snow always lies；and Thumbelina felt cold in the bleak air, but then she crept under the bird's warm feathers, and only put out her little head to admire all the beauties beneath her.
At last they came to the warm countries. There the sun shone far brighter than here；the sky seemed twice as high；in ditches and on the hedges grew the most beautiful blue and green grapes；lemons and oranges hung in the woods；the air was fragrant with myrtles and balsams, and on the roads the loveliest children ran about, playing with the gay butterflies.But the Swallow flew still farther, and it became more and more beautiful.Under the most glorious green trees by the blue lake stood a palace of dazzlingwhite marble, from the olden time.Vines clustered around the lofty pillars；at the top were many swallows'nests, and in one of these the Swallow lived who carried Thumbelina.
“Here is my house，”said the Swallow.“But if you will select for yourself one of the splendid flowers which grow down yonder, then I will put you into it, and you shall have everything as nice as you can wish.”
“That is capital，”cried she, and clapped her little hands.
A great marble pillar lay there, which had fallen to the ground and had been broken into three pieces；but between these pieces grew the most beautiful great white flowers. The Swallow flow down with Thumbelina, and set her upon one of the broad leaves.But how great was the little maid's surprise！There sat a little man in the midst of the flower, as white and transparent as if he had been made of glass；he wore the daintiest of gold crowns on his head, and the brightest wings on his shoulders；he himself was not bigger than Thumbelina.He was the angel of the flower.In each of the flowers dwelt such a little man or woman, but this one was king over them all.“Heavens！How beautiful he is！”whispered Thumbelina to the Swallow.
The little prince was very much frightened at the Swallow；for it was quite a gigantic bird to him, who was so small. But when he saw Thumbelina, he became very glad；she was the prettiest maiden he had ever seen.Therefore he took off his golden crown, and put itupon her, asked her name, and if she would be his wife, and then she should be queen of all the flowers.Now this was truly a different kind of man to the son of the Toad, and the Mole with the black velvet fur.She therefore said“Yes”to the charming prince.And out of every flower came a lady or a lord, so pretty to behold that it was a delight：each one brought Thumbelina a present；but the best gift was a pair of beautiful wings which had belonged to a great white fly；these were fastened to Thumbelina's back, and now she could fly from flower to flower.Then there was much rejoicing；and the Swallow sat above them in her nest, and sung for them as well as she could：but yet in her heart she was sad, for she was so fond of Thumbelina, and would have liked never to part from her.
“You shall not be called Thumbelina！”said the Flower Angel to her；“that is an ugly name, and you are too fair for it—we will call you Maia.”
“Farewell, farewell！”said the Swallow, and she flew away again from the warm countries, far away back to Denmark. There she had a little nest over the window of the man who can tell fairy tales.To him she sang“Tweet-weet！Tweet-weet”and from him we have the whole story.2.顽皮的孩子/The Naughty Boy导读
从前有一个非常和善的老诗人，有一天晚上，外面下着可怕的暴风雨，他正坐在温暖舒适的家里烤火，一个小孩子在外面叫着敲门，老诗人就去把门打开，把这个孩子请了进来。这个孩子有一双明亮的眼睛，一头卷曲的金发，就像一个小小的天使。但是他什么也没有穿，已经被冻得惨白，全身发抖。他的手里还拿着一把被雨水淋湿了的漂亮的弓箭。
老诗人把孩子抱到火炉前取暖，并给他好喝的甜酒，让他暖和起来。孩子很快就恢复了，脸颊也红润起来。然而，这个叫阿穆尔的天生顽皮的孩子居然拿起他的弓箭，向着老诗人的胸口射了一箭，然后大笑着跑掉了。老诗人伤心地躺在地上哭了，他决定把这件事情告诉所有的好孩子们，让他们不要和阿穆尔一起玩，免得他跟他们捣蛋。
尽管所有的好孩子都对这个顽皮的孩子有了戒心，可是阿穆尔无所不在，他总是跟着男孩子和女孩子们。他曾经就用他的弓箭射中了你爸爸和妈妈的心。当然还有老祖母，不过那是很久以前的事情了。原来，这个顽皮的阿穆尔就是爱神丘比特啊，说不定哪一天，他漂亮的弓箭也会射中你呢。老诗人把小男孩带进屋
There was once an old poet—a very good old poet. One evening, as he sat at home, there was dreadfully bad weather outside.The rain streamed down：but the old poet sat comfortably by his stove, where the fire was burning and the roasting apples were hissing.
“There won't be a dry thread left on the poor people who are out in this weather！”said he, for he was a good old poet.
“Oh, open to me！I am cold and quite wet，”said a little child outside；and it cried, and knocked at the door, while the rain streamed down, and the wind made all the casements rattle.
“You poor little creature！”said the poet；and he went to open the door. There stood a little boy；he was quite naked, and the water ran in streams from his long fair curls.He was shivering with cold, and had he not been let in, he would certainly have perished in the bad weather.
“You poor little creature！”said the poet, and took him by the hand，“come to me, and I will warm you. You shall have wine and an apple, for you are a pretty boy.”
And so he was. His eyes sparkled like two bright stars, and though the water ran down from his fair curls, they fell in beautiful ringlets.He looked like a little angel-child, but was white with coldand trembled all over.In his hand he carried a lovely bow, but it looked quite spoiled by the wet；all the colours in the beautiful arrows had been blurred together by the rain.
The old poet sat down by the stove, took the little boy on his knees, pressed the water out of the long curls, warmed his hands in his own, and heated sweet wine for him；then the boy recovered himself, and his cheeks grew red and he jumped to the floor and danced round the old poet.
“You are a merry boy，”said the old poet.“What is your name？”
“My name is Cupid，”he replied：“don't you know me？There lies my bow—I shoot with that, you may believe me！See, now the weather is clearing up outside, and the moon shines.”
“But your bow is spoiled，”said the old poet.
“That would be a pity，”replied the little boy；and he took the bow and looked at it.“Oh, it is quite dry, and has suffered no damage；the string is quite stiff—I will try it！”Then he bent it, and laid an arrow across, aimed, and shot the good old poet straight into the heart.“Do you see now that my bow was not spoiled？”said he, and laughed out loud and ran away. What a naughty boy to shoot at the old poet in that way, who had let him into the warm room, and been so kind to him, and given him the best wine and the best apple！
The good poet lay upon the floor and wept；he was really shot straight into the heart.“Fie！”he cried，“what a naughty boy thisCupid is！I shall tell that to all good children, so that they may take care, and never play with him. for he will do them harm！”
All good children, girls and boys, to whom he told this, took good heed of this naughty child；but still he tricked them, for he is very cunning. When the students come out from the lectures, he runs at their side with a book under his arm, and has a black coat on.They cannot recognize him at all.And then they take his arm and fancy he is a student too；but he thrusts the arrow into their breasts.When the girls are being prepared for confirmation, he is also after them.Yes, he is always following people！He sits in the great chandelier in the theatre and burns brightly, so that the people think he is a lamp；but afterwards they see their error.He runs about in the palace garden and on the promenades.Yes, he once shot your father and your mother straight into the heart！Only ask them, and you will hear what they say.Oh, he is a bad boy, this Cupid；you must never have anything to do with him.He is after every one.Only think, once he shot an arrow at old grandmamma；but that was a long time ago.The wound has indeed healed long since, but she will never forget it.Fie on that wicked Cupid！But now you know him, and what a naughty boy he is.3.飞箱/The Flying Trunk导读
从前有一个十分富有的商人，他死后，他的儿子继承了他的所有财产。可是，他儿子挥霍浪费，很快就一无所有了。他的朋友们也都离开了他，只有其中一位心地很好的人送给他一只箱子。他没有什么东西可放进去，就自己坐进了箱子。
这个箱子十分奇妙，只要把它的锁按一下，箱子就可以飞起来。现在，箱子带着商人的儿子飞到了土耳其人的国度。商人的儿子将箱子藏在树林里，然后走进城去。在城边他看见一座窗子开得很高的宫殿，一个奶妈告诉他，那是公主居住的地方。因为有人预言她会因为一个爱人而变得不幸，所以什么人也不能见她，除非国王和王后在场。
商人的儿子坐上飞箱，飞到了宫殿，爬进了公主的窗子。他告诉公主自己是土耳其人的神，并给公主讲了一些好听的故事。因此，当他向公主求婚的时候，公主马上就答应了他。不过公主让他在星期六的时候来陪国王和王后喝茶，并给他们讲一个好听的故事。
商人的儿子回到了森林里，苦思冥想，终于编好了一个有趣的故事。星期六，他又来到了王宫，国王、王后和大臣非常客气地招待了他。他讲了一个“火柴的故事”给大家听，国王和王后都很喜欢，于是决定将公主嫁给他，婚期就定在星期一。箱子带着他飞了起来
商人的儿子十分高兴，他想让大家分享他的快乐。于是他买了焰火和爆竹放在飞箱里，飞向空中。当土耳其人看到美丽的火球时，全都兴奋地跳起来。所有的人都在赞美着商人的儿子，相信他就是土耳其人的神。可是不幸的事情发生了，箱子被焰火落下的火星烧掉了，化为了灰烬。商人的儿子再也飞不起来了，也无法到他的新娘那里去了。
公主一直在等待着她的新郎。而商人的儿子在茫茫的世界里跑来跑去地讲故事，不过，他的故事再也不像那个“火柴的故事”一样有趣了。
There, was once a merchant, who was so rich that he could pave the whole street with silver coins, and almost have enough left for a little lane. But he did not do that；he knew how to employ his money differently.When he spent a shilling he got back a crown, such a clever merchant was he；and this continued till he died.
His son now got all this money；and he lived merrily, going to the masquerade every evening, making kites out of dollar notes, and playing at ducks and drakes on the sea coast with gold pieces instead of pebbles. In this way the money might soon be spent, and indeed it was so.At last he had no more than four shillings left, and no clothes to wear but a pair of slippers and an old dressing-gown.Now his friends did not trouble themselves any more about him, as they could not walk with him in the street；but one of them, who was good-natured, sent him an old trunk, with the remark，“Pack up！”Yes, that was all very well, but he had nothing to pack, therefore he seated himself in the trunk.公主一直在等待她的新郎
That was a wonderful trunk. So soon as any one pressed the lock, the trunk could fly.This it now did；whirr！away it flew with him through the chimney and over the clouds, farther and farther away.But as often as the bottom of the trunk cracked a little he was in great fear lest it might go to pieces, and then he would have thrown a fine somersault！In that way he came to the land of the Turks.He hid the trunk in a wood under some dry leaves, and then went into the town.He could do that very well, for among the Turks all the people went dressed like himself in dressing-gown and slippers.Then he met a nurse with a little child.
“Here, you Turkish nurse，”he began，“what kind of a great castle is that close by the town, in which the windows are so high up？”
“There dwells the Sultan's daughter，”replied she.“It is prophesied that she will be very unhappy respecting a lover；and therefore nobody may go to her, unless the Sultan and Sultana are there too.”
“Thank you！”said the merchant's son；and he went out into the forest, seated himself in his trunk, flew on the roof, and crept through the window into the Princess's room.
She was lying asleep on the sofa, and she was so beautiful thatthe merchant's son was compelled to kiss her. Then she awoke, and was very much startled；but he said he was a Turkish angel who had come down to her through the air, and that pleased her.
They sat down side by side, and he told her stories about her eyes；he told her they were the most glorious dark lakes, and that thoughts were swimming about in them like mermaids. And he told her about her forehead；that it was a snowy mountain with the most splendid halls and pictures.And he told her about the stork who brings the lovely little children.
Yes, those were fine histories！Then he asked the Princess if she would marry him, and she said“Yes, directly.”
“But you must come here on Saturday，”said she.“Then the Sultan and the Sultana will be here to tea. They will be very proud that I am to marry a Turkish angel.But take care that you know a very pretty story, for both my parents are very fond indeed of stories.My mother likes them high-flown and moral, but my father likes them merry, so that one can laugh.”
“Yes, I shall bring no marriage gift but a story，”said he；and so they parted. But the Princess gave him a sabre, the sheath embroidered with gold pieces, and that was very useful to him.
Now he flew away, bought a new dressing-gown, and sat in the forest and made up a story；it was to be ready by Saturday, and that was not an easy thing.
By the time he had finished it Saturday had come. The Sultanand his wife and all the court were at the Princess's to tea.He was received very graciously.
“Will you tell us a story？”said the Sultana；“one that is deep and edifying.”
“Yes, but one that we can laugh at，”said the Sultan.
“Certainly，”he replied；and began. And now listen well.
“There was once a bundle of Matches, and these Matches were particularly proud of their high descent. Their genealogical tree, that is to say, the great fir tree of which each of them was a little splinter, had been a great old tree out in the forest.The Matches now lay between a Tinder-Box and an old iron Pot；and they were telling about the days of their youth.
“Yes, when we were upon the green boughs，”they said，“then we really were upon the green boughs！Every morning and evening there was diamond tea for us, I mean dew；we had sunshine all day long whenever the sun shone, and all the little birds had to tell stories. We could see very well that we were rich, for the other trees were only dressed out in summer, while our family had the means to wear green dresses in the winter as well.But then the woodcutter came, like a great revolution, and our family was broken up.The head of the family got an appointment as mainmast in a first-rate ship, which could sail round the world if necessary；the other branches went to other places, and now we have the office of kindling a light for the vulgar herd.That's how we grand peoplecame to be in the kitchen.”
“My fate was of a different kind，”said the iron Pot which stood next to the Matches.“From the beginning, ever since I came into the world, there has been a great deal of scouring and cooking done in me. I look after the practical part, and am the first here in the house.My only pleasure is to sit in my place after dinner, very clean and neat, and to carry on a sensible conversation with my comrades.But except the Water Pot, which sometimes is taken down into the courtyard, we always live within our four walls.Our only newsmonger is the Market Basket；but he speaks very uneasily about the government and the people.Yes, the other day there was an old pot that fell down from fright, and burst.He's liberal, I can tell you！”“Now you're talking too much，”the Tinder-Box interrupted, and the steel struck against the flint, so that sparks flew out.“Shall we not have a merry evening？”
“Yes, let us talk about who is the grandest，”said the Matches.
“No, I don't like to talk about myself，”retorted the Pot.“Let us get up an evening entertainment. I will begin.I will tell a story from real life, something that every one has experienced, so that we can easily imagine the situation, and take pleasure in it.On the Baltic, by the Danish beech-trees—”
“That's a pretty beginning！”cried all the Plates.
“That will be a story we shall like.”
“Yes, there I spent my youth in a quiet family where thefurniture was polished, and the floors scoured, and new curtains were put up every fortnight.”
“What an interesting way you have of telling a story！”said the Carpet Broom.“One can tell directly that the narrator is a woman. There's something pure runs through it.”
“Yes, one feels that，”said the Water Pot, and out of delight it gave a little hop, so that there was a splash on the floor.
And the Pot went on telling her story, and the end was as good as the beginning.
All the Plates rattled with joy, and the Carpet Broom brought some green parsley out of the dust hole, and put it like a wreath on the Pot, for he knew that it would vex the others.“If I crown her today，”it thought，“she will crown me tomorrow.”
“Now I'll dance，”said the Fire Tongs, and she danced. Preserve us！how that implement could lift up one leg！The old Chair Cushion burst to see it.“Shall I be crowned too？”thought the Tongs；and indeed a wreath was awarded.
“They're only common people, after all！”thought the Matches.
Now the Tea Urn was to sing；but she said she had taken cold, and could not sing unless she felt boiling within. But that was only affectation；she did not want to sing, except when she was in the parlour with the grand people，
“In the window sat an old Quill Pen, with which the maid generally wrote：there was nothing remarkable about this Pen, except that it had been dipped too deep into the ink, but she was proud of that.‘If the Tea Urn won't sing，'she said，‘she may leave it alone. Outside hangs a nightingale in a cage, and he can sing.He hasn't had any education, but this evening we'll say nothing about that.”
“I think it very wrong，”said the Tea Kettle—he was the kitchen singer, and half-brother to the Tea Urn—“that that rich and foreign bird should be listened to！Is that patriotic？Let the Market Basket decide.”
“I am vexed，”said the Market Basket.“No one can imagine how much I am secretly vexed. Is that a proper way of spending the evening？Would it not be more sensible to put the house in order？Let each one go to his own place, and I would arrange the whole game.That would be quite another thing.”
“Yes, let us make a disturbance，”cried they all. Then the door opened, and the maid came in, and they all stood still；not one stirred.But there was not one pot among them who did not know what he could do, and how grand he was.“Yes, if I had liked，”each one thought，“it might have been a very merry evening.”
“The servant girl took the Matches and lighted the fire with them. Mercy！how they sputtered and burst out into flame！“Now everyone can see，”thought they，“that we are the first.How we shine！what a light！”—and they burned out.”
“That was a capital story，”said the Sultana.“I feel myself quitecarried away to the kitchen, to the Matches. Yes, now thou shalt marry our daughter.”
“Yes, certainly，”said the Sultan，“thou shalt marry our daughter on Monday.”
And they called him thou, because he was to belong to the family.
The wedding was decided on, and on the evening before it the whole city was illuminated. Biscuits and cakes were thrown among the people, the street boys stood on their toes, called out“Hurrah！”and whistled on their fingers.It was uncommonly splendid.
“Yes, I shall have to give something as a treat，”thought the merchant's son. So he bought rockets and crackers, and every imaginable sort of firework, put them all into his trunk, and flew up into the air.
“Crack！”how they went, and how they went off！
All the Turks hopped up with such a start that their slippers flew about their ears；such a meteor they had never yet seen. Now they could understand that it must be a Turkish angel who was going to marry the Princess.
As soon as the merchant's son descended again into the forest with his trunk, he thought，“I will go into the town now, and hear how it all looked.”And it was quite natural that he wanted to do so.
What stories people told！Every one whom he asked about it had seen it in a separate way；but one and all thought it fine.
“I saw the Turkish angel himself，”said one.“He had eyes like glowing stars, and a beard like foaming water.”
“He flew in a fiery mantle，”said another；“the most lovely little cherub peeped forth from among the folds.”
Yes, they were wonderful things that he heard；and on the following day he was to be married.
Now he went back to the forest to rest himself in his trunk. But what had become of that？A spark from the fireworks had set fire to it, and the trunk was burned to ashes.
He could not fly any more, and could not get to his bride.
She stood all day on the roof waiting；and most likely she is waiting still. But he wanders through the world telling fairy tales；but they are not so merry as that one he told about the Matches.4.荷马墓上的一朵玫瑰/A Rose From the Grave of Homer导读
离士麦那不远的地方，有一道开满花的玫瑰树篱笆，其中有一朵最娇艳、美丽的玫瑰，任凭夜莺对它如何歌唱心中的爱慕之苦，它都不为所动，连一颗同情的泪珠都没有，只是对着身下的石碑垂下芳枝——那是最伟大的歌手和诗人荷马的墓。它在荷马的墓上发芽生长，自认为是一株非凡的玫瑰，是神圣的花朵。最后，这只可怜的夜莺一直歌唱到死。骆驼商人的小儿子可怜这只鸟儿，把它也葬进了荷马墓。
夜晚，玫瑰花梦见一群异国人来到荷马墓参拜，其中有一个来自北国的诗人，将玫瑰花摘下，带回了那遥远的北国。从此，它就如木乃伊般静静躺在书里，做了标本。
果然，这梦应验了，每当这位北国诗人翻开书看见它，都会感叹道，这是来自荷马墓上的一朵玫瑰。
All the songs of the East tell of the love of the nightingale for the rose；in the silent starlit nights the winged songster serenades his fragrant flower.异国人来到荷马墓前参拜
Not far from Smyrna, under the lofty plane trees, where the merchant drives his loaded camels, that proudly lift their long necks and tramp clumsily over the holy ground, I saw a hedge of roses. Wild pigeons flew among the branches of the high trees, and their wings glistened, while a sunbeam glided over them, as if they were of mother-o'-pearl.
The rose hedge bore a flower which was the most beautiful among all, and the nightingale sang to her of his woes；but the Rose was silent—not a dewdrop lay, like a tear of sympathy, upon her leaves：she bent down over a few great stones.
“Here rests the greatest singer of the world！”said the Rose：“over his tomb will I pour out my fragrance, and on it I will let fall my leaves when the storm tears them off. He who sang of Troy became earth, and from that earth I have sprung.I, a rose from the grave of Homer, am too lofty to bloom for a poor nightingale！”
And the nightingale sang himself to death.
The camel driver came with his loaded camels and his black slaves：his little son found the dead bird, and buried the little songster in the grave of the great Homer. And the Rose trembled in the wind.The evening came, and the Rose wrapped her leaves more closely together, and dreamed thus：
“It was a fair sunshiny day；a crowd of strangers drew near, for they had undertaken a pilgrimage to the grave of Homer. Among thestrangers was a singer from the North, the home of clouds and of the Northern Lights.He plucked the Rose, placed it in a book, and carried it away into another part of the world, to his distant fatherland.The Rose faded with grief, and lay in the narrow book, which he opened in his home, saying，‘Here is a rose from the grave of Homer.'”
This the flower dreamed；and she awoke and trembled in the wind. A drop of dew fell from the leaves upon the singer's grave.The sun rose, the day became warm, and the Rose glowed more beauteous than before；she was in her own warm Asia.Then footsteps were heard, and Frankish strangers came, such as the Rose had seen in her dream；and among the strangers was a poet from the North：he plucked the Rose, pressed a kiss upon her fresh mouth, and carried her away to the home of the clouds and of the Northern Lights.
Like a mummy the flower corpse now rests in his Iliad, and, as in a dream, she hears him open the book and say，“Here is a rose from the grave of Homer.”5.大克劳斯与小克劳斯/Great Claus and Little Claus导读
从前，某村子里住着两个名字一样的人，大家把拥有四匹马的那个叫做大克劳斯，把只有一匹马的那个叫小克劳斯。故事就发生在他们俩人身上。
每星期一到六，小克劳斯都帮大克劳斯犁田，并把自己唯一的一匹马借给他用。只有在星期天，大克劳斯才会将自己的四匹马借给小克劳斯。当小克劳斯用五匹马给自己犁田的时候，他总是得意忘形地向人们喊：“我所有的马儿，使劲儿呀！”大克劳斯很生气，就把小克劳斯唯一的一匹马打死了。小克劳斯只好把马皮剥下来拿到城里去卖。
在路过一个农庄时，小克劳斯欺骗了一个收留他过夜的农夫，把他装在袋子里的马皮说成了无所不能的魔术师，于是农夫用一斗钱买下了小克劳斯的马皮。大克劳斯发现小克劳斯发了财，就问他从哪儿挣来这么多钱？小克劳斯骗大克劳斯说那是卖马皮得来的。大克劳斯于是也杀死了自己的四匹马，把马皮拿到城里去卖，却因要价太高被人打了回来。
大克劳斯为了报复，想把小克劳斯打死，却错打了小克劳斯已经死去的老祖母。小克劳斯用马车拉着老祖母的尸体路过一个旅店时，他又欺骗店老板，说是店老板把他老祖母打死的，可怜的店老板无奈之下给了小克劳斯一斗钱。大克劳斯知道小克劳斯又挣了一笔钱后十分惊奇，可是狡猾的小克劳斯又骗他说，这是卖了他老祖母的尸体得来的。愚蠢的大克劳斯于是打死了自己的老祖母，把她的尸体装上马车去城里卖，结果当然是被当做疯子赶了回来。小克劳斯没马了
发觉受骗的大克劳斯把小克劳斯抓起来装到袋子里，说要扔到河里去淹死他。这次，小克劳斯再次耍起了他的小聪明，趁着大克劳斯去听圣诗的时候，说服一位赶牲口的白发老人把他救出了口袋，并骗着白发老人钻了进去。小克劳斯赶着白发老人的一群牲口回家了。大克劳斯看到小克劳斯不但没有死，反而赶着一群牲口在路上走，简直是惊诧万分。小克劳斯对大克劳斯说，他被扔到河里后，河里的仙女把他救了起来，并送给他这些牲口，还让他沿着河流走回来。大克劳斯信以为真，就让小克劳斯把他也装到袋子里扔进河去，想得到“河里的牲口”。结果，大克劳斯再也没有回来，而小克劳斯赶着他的牲口回家了。
There lived two men in one village, and they had the same name—each was called Claus；but one had four horses, and the other only a single horse. To distinguish them from each other, folks called him who had four horses Great Claus, and the one who had only a single horse Little Claus.Now we shall hear what happened to each of them, for this is a true story.
The whole week through, Little Claus was obliged to plough for Great Claus, and to lend him his one horse；then Great Claus helped him out with all his four, but only once a week, and that was on Sunday. Hurrah！How Little Claus smacked his whip over all five horses, for they were as good as his own on that one day.The sun shone gaily, and all the bells in the steeples were ringing；the people were all dressed in their best, and were going to church, with their hymn-books under their arms, to hear the clergyman preach, and they saw Little Claus ploughing with five horses；but he was so merry that he smacked his whip again and again, and cried，“Gee up, all my five！”牧师在箱内发抖
“You must not talk so，”said Great Claus，“for only one horse is yours.”
But when any one passed Little Claus forgot that he was not to say this, and he cried，“Gee up, all my horses！”
“Now, I must beg of you to stop that，”cried Great Claus，“for if you say it again, I shall hit your horse on the head, so that it will fall down dead, and then it will be all over with him.”
“I will certainly not say it any more，”said Little Claus.
But when people came by soon afterwards, and nodded“good day”to him, he became very glad, and thought it looked very well, after all, that he had five horses to plough his field；and so he smacked his whip again, and cried，“Gee up, all my horses！”
“I'll‘gee up'your horses！”said Great Claus. And he took a mallet and hit the only horse of Little Claus on the head, so that it fell down, and was dead immediately.大克劳斯被扔进了河里
“Oh, now I haven't any horse at all！”said Little Claus, and began to cry.
Then he flayed the horse, and let the hide dry in the wind, and put it in a sack and hung it over his shoulder, and went to the town to sell his horse's skin.
He had a very long way to go, and was obliged to pass through a great dark wood, and the weather became dreadfully bad. He went quite astray, and before he got into the right way again it was evening, and it was too far to get home again or even to the town before nightfall.
Close by the road stood a large farm-house. The shutters were closed outside the windows, but the light could still be seen shining out over them.
“I may be able to get leave to stop here through the night，”thought Little Claus；and he went and knocked.
The farmer's wife opened the door；but when she heard what he wanted she told him to go away, declaring that her husband was not at home, and she would not receive strangers.
“Then I shall have to lie outside，”said Little Claus. And the farmer's wife shut the door in his face.
Close by stood a great haystack, and between this and the farm-house was a little outhouse thatched with straw.
“Up there I can lie，”said Little Claus, when he looked up at the roof，“that is a capital bed. I suppose the stork won't fly down andbite me in the legs.”For a living stork was standing on the roof, where he had his nest.
Now Little Claus climbed up to the roof of the shed, where he lay, and turned round to settle himself comfortably. The wooden shutters did not cover the windows at the top, and he could look straight into the room.There was a great table, with the cloth laid, and wine and roast meat and a glorious fish upon it.The farmer's wife and the parish-clerk were seated at table, and nobody besides.She was filling his glass, and he was digging his fork into the fish, for that was his favourite dish.
“If one could only get some too！”thought Little Claus, as he stretched out his head towards the window. Heavens！What a glorious cake he saw standing there！Yes, certainly, that was a feast.
Now he heard some one riding along the high road. It was the woman's husband, who was coming home.He was a good man enough, but he had the strange peculiarity that he could never bear to see a clerk.If a clerk appeared before his eyes he became quite wild.And that was the reason why the clerk had gone to the wife to wish her good day, because he knew that her husband was not at home；and the good woman therefore put the best fare she had before him.But when they heard the man coming they were frightened, and the woman begged the clerk to creep into a great empty chest which stood in the corner；and he did so, for he knew the husband could not bear the sight of a clerk.The woman quicklyhid all the excellent meat and wine in her baking-oven；for if the man had seen that, he would have been certain to ask what it meant.
“Oh, dear！”sighed Little Claus, up in his shed, when he saw all the good fare put away.
“Is there any one up there？”asked the farmer；and he looked up at Little Claus.“why are you lying there？Better come with me into the room.”
And Little Claus told him how he had lost his way, and asked leave to stay there for the night.
“Yes, certainly，”said the peasant，“but first we must have something to live on.”
The woman received them both in a very friendly way, spread the cloth on a long table, and gave them a great dish of porridge. The farmer was hungry, and ate with a good appetite；but Little Claus could not help thinking of the capital roast meat, fish, and cake, which he knew were in the oven.Under the table, at his feet, he had laid the sack with the horse's hide in it；for we know that he had come out to sell it in the town.He could not relish the porridge, so he trod upon the sack, and the dry skin inside crackled quite loudly.
“Hush，”said Little Claus to his sack；but at the same time he trod on it again, so that it crackled much louder than before.
“Why, what have you in your sack？”asked the farmer.
“Oh, that's a magician，”answered Little Claus.“He says weare not to eat porridge, for he has conjured the oven full of roast meat, fish, and cake.”
“Wonderful！”cried the farmer；and he opened the oven in a hurry, and found all the dainty provisions which his wife had hidden there, but which, as he thought, the wizard had conjured forth. The woman dared not say anything, but put the things at once on the table；and so they both ate of the meat, the fish, and the cake.Now Little Claus again trod on his sack, and made the hide creak.
“What does he say now？”said the farmer.
“He says，”replied Claus，“that he has conjured three bottles of wine for us, too, and that they are also standing there in the oven.”
Now the woman was obliged to bring out the wine which she had hidden, and the farmer drank it and became very merry. He would have been very glad to own such a conjuror as Little Claus had there in the sack.
“Can he conjure the demon forth？”asked the farmer.“I should like to see him, for now I am merry.”
“Oh, yes.”said Little Claus，“my conjuror can do any thing that I ask of him.—Can you not？”he added, and trod on the hide, so that it crackled.“He says‘Yes.'But the demon is very ugly to look at：we had better not see him.”
“Oh, I'm not at all afraid. Pray, what will he look like？”
“Why, he'll look the very image of a parish-clerk.”
“Ha！”said the farmer，“that is ugly！You must know, I can'tbear the sight of a clerk. But it doesn't matter now, for I know that he's a demon, so I shall easily stand it.Now I have courage, but he must not come too near me.”
“Now I will ask my conjuror，”said Little Claus；and he trod on the sack and held his ear down.
“What does he say？”
“He says you may go and open the chest that stands in the corner, and you will see the demon crouching in it；but you must hold the lid so that he doesn't slip out.”
Will you help me to hold him？”asked the farmer. And he went to the chest where the wife had hidden the real clerk, who sat in there and was very much afraid.The farmer opened the lid a little way and peeped in underneath it.
“Ugh！”he cried, and sprang backward.“Yes, now I've seen him, and he looked exactly like our clerk. Oh, that was dreadful！”
Upon this they must drink. So they sat and drank until late into the night.
“You must sell me that conjuror，”said the farmer.“Ask as much as you like for him. I'll give you a whole bushel of money directly.”
“No, that I can't do，”said Little Claus：“only think how much use I can make of this conjuror.”
“Oh, I should so much like to have him！”cried the farmer；and he went on begging.
“Well，”said Little Claus, at last，“as you have been so kind as to give me shelter for the night, I will let it be so. You shall have the conjuror for a bushel of money；but I must have the bushel heaped up.”
“That you shall have，”replied the farmer.“But you must take the chest yonder away with you. I will not keep it in my house an hour.One cannot know—perhaps he may be there still.”
Little Claus gave the farmer his sack with the dry hide in it, and got in exchange a whole bushel of money, and that heaped up. The farmer also gave him a big truck, on which to carry off his money and chest.
“Farewell！”said Little Claus；and he went off with his money and the big chest, in which the clerk was still sitting.
On the other side of the wood was a great deep river. The water rushed along so rapidly that one could scarcely swim against the stream.A fine new bridge had been built over it.Little Claus stopped on the centre of the bridge, and said quite loud, so that the clerk could hear it.
“Ho, what shall I do with this stupid chest？It's as heavy as if stones were in it. I shall only get tired if I drag it any farther, so I'll throw it into the river：if it swims home to me, well and good；and if it does not, it will be no great matter.”
And he took the chest with one hand, and lifted it up a little, as if he intended to throw it into the river.
“No！Stop it！”cried the clerk from within the chest；“let me out first！”
“Ugh！”exclaimed Little Claus, pretending to be frightened，“he's in there still！I must make haste and throw him into the river, that he may be drowned.”
“Oh, no, no！”screamed the clerk.“I'll give you a whole bushel-full of money if you'll let me go.”
“Why, that's another thing！”said Little Claus；and he opened the chest.
The clerk crept quickly out, pushed the empty chest into the water, and went to his house, where Little Claus received a whole bushel-full of money. He had already received one from the farmer, and so now he had his truck loaded with money.
“See, I've been well paid for the horse，”he said to himself when he had got home to his own room, and was emptying all the money into a heap in the middle of the floor.“That will vex Great Claus when he hears how rich I have grown through my one horse；but I won't tell him about it outright.”
So he sent a boy to Great Claus to ask for a bushel measure.
“What can he want with it？”thought Great Claus. And he smeared some tar underneath the measure, so that some part of whatever was measured should stick to it.And thus it happened；for when he received the measure back, there were three new three-penny pieces adhering thereto.
“What's this？”cried Great Claus；and he ran off at once to Little Claus.“Where did you get all that money from？”
“Oh, that's for my horse's skin. I sold it yesterday evening.”
“That's really being well paid，”said Great Claus. And he ran home in a hurry, took an axe, and killed all his four horses；then he flayed them, and carried off their skins to the town.
“Hides！Hides！Who'll buy any hides？”he cried through the streets.
All the shoemakers and tanners came running, and asked how much he wanted for them.
“A bushel of money for each！”said Great Claus.
“Are you mad？”said they.“Do you think we have money by the bushel？”
“Hides！Hides！”he cried again；and to all who asked him what the hides would cost he replied，“A bushel of money.”
“He wants to make fools of us，”they all exclaimed. And the shoemakers took their straps, and the tanners their aprons, and they began to beat Great Claus.
“Hides！Hides！”they called after him, jeeringly.“Yes, we'll tan your hide for you till the red broth runs down. Out of the town with him！”And Great Claus made the best haste he could, for he had never yet been thrashed as he was thrashed now.
“Well，”said he when he got home，“Little Claus shall pay for this. I'll kill him for it.”
Now, at Little Claus's the old grandmother had died. She had been very harsh and unkind to him, but yet he was very sorry, and took the dead woman and laid her in his warm bed, to see if she would not come to life again.There he intended she should remain all through the night, and he himself would sit in the corner and sleep on a chair, as he had often done before.As he sat there, in the night the door opened, and Great Claus came in with his axe.He knew where Little Claus's bed stood；and, going straight up to it, he hit the old grandmother on the head, thinking she was Little Claus.
“D'ye see，”said he，“you shall not make a fool of me again.”And then he went home.
“That's a bad fellow, that man，”said Little Claus.“He wanted to kill me. It was a good thing for my old grandmother that she was dead already.He would have taken her life.”
And he dressed his grandmother in her Sunday clothes, borrowed a horse of his neighbour, harnessed it to a car, and put the old lady on the back seat, so that she could not fall out when he drove. And so they trundled through the wood.When the sun rose they were in front of an inn；there Little Claus pulled up, and went in to have some refreshment.
The host had very, very much money；he was also a very good man, but exceedingly hot-tempered, as if he had pepper and tobacco in him.
“Good morning，”said he to Little Claus.“You've put on yourSunday clothes early today.”
“Yes，”answered Little Claus；“I'm going to town with my old grandmother：she's sitting there on the car without. I can't bring her into the room—will you give her a glass of mead？But you must speak very loud, for she can't hear well.”
“Yes, that I will，”said the host. And he poured out a great glass of mead, and went out with it to the dead grandmother, who had been placed upright in the carriage.
“Here's a glass of mead from your son，”quoth the host. But the dead woman replied not a word, but sat quite still.“Don't you hear？”cried the host, as loud as he could，“here is a glass of mead from your son！”
Once more he called out the same thing, but as she still made not a movement, he became angry at last, and threw the glass in her face, so that the mead ran down over her nose, and she tumbled backwards into the car, for she had only been put upright, and not bound fast.
“Hallo！”cried Little Claus, running out at the door, and seizing the host by the breast；“you've killed my grandmother now！See, there's a big hole in her forehead.”
“Oh, here's a misfortune！”cried the host, wringing his hands.“That all comes of my hot temper. Dear Little Claus, I'll give you a bushel of money, and have your grandmother buried as if she were my own；only keep quiet, or I shall have my head cut off, and thatwould be so very disagreeable！”
So Little Claus again received a whole bushel of money, and the host buried the old grandmother as if she had been his own. And when Little Claus came home with all his money, he at once sent his boy to Great Claus to ask to borrow a bushel measure.
“What's that？”said Great Claus.“Have I not killed him？I must go myself and see to this.”And so he went over himself with the bushel to Little Claus.
“Now, where did you get all that money from？”he asked；and he opened his eyes wide when he saw all that had been brought together.
“You killed my grandmother, and not me，”replied Little Claus；“and I've sold her, and got a whole bushel of money for her.”
“That's really being well paid，”said Great Claus；and he hastened home, took an axe, and killed his own grandmother directly. Then he put her on a carriage, and drove off to the town with her, to where the apothecary lived, and asked him if he would buy a dead person.
“Who is it, and where did you get him from？”asked the apothecary.
“It's my grandmother，”answered Great Claus.“I've killed her to get a bushel of money for her.”
“Heaven save us！”cried the apothecary，“you're raving！Don't say such things, or you may lose your head.”And he told himearnestly what a bad deed this was that he had done, and what a bad man he was, and that he must be punished. And Great Claus was so frightened that he jumped out of the surgery straight into his carriage, and whipped the horses, and drove home.But the apothecary and all the people thought him mad, and so they let him drive whither he would.
“You shall pay for this！”said Great Claus, when he was out upon the high road：“yes, you shall pay me for this, Little Claus！”And directly he got home he took the biggest sack he could find, and went over to Little Claus and said，“Now, you've tricked me again！First I killed my horses, and then my old grandmother！That's all your fault；but you shall never trick me any more.”And he seized Little Claus round the body, and thrust him into the sack, and took him upon his back, and called out to him，“Now I shall go off with you and drown you.”
It was a long way that he had to travel before he came to the river, and Little Claus was not too light to carry. The road led him close to a church：the organ was playing, and the people were singing, so beautifully！Then Great Claus put down his sack, with Little Claus in it, close to the church door, and thought it would be a very good thing to go in and hear a psalm before he went farther；for Little Claus could not get out, and all the people were in church；and so he went in.
“Oh, dear！Oh, dear！”sighed Little Claus in the sack. And heturned and twisted, but he found it impossible to loosen the cord.Then there came by an old drover with snow-white hair, and a great staff in his hand：he was driving a whole herd of cows and oxen before him, and they stumbled against the sack in which Little Claus was confined, so that it was overthrown.
“Oh, dear！”sighed Little Claus，“I'm so young yet, and am to go to heaven directly！”
“And I, poor fellow，”said the drover，“am so old, already, and can't get there yet！”
“Open the sack，”cried Little Claus；“creep into it instead of me, and you will get to heaven directly.”
“With all my heart，”replied the drover；and he untied the sack, out of which Little Claus crept forth immediately.
“But will you look after the cattle？”said the old man；and he crept into the sack at once, whereupon Little Claus tied it up, and went his way with all the cows and oxen.
Soon afterwards Great Claus came out of the church. He took the sack on his shoulders again, although it seemed to him as if the sack had become lighter；for the old drover was only half as heavy as Little Claus.
“How light he is to carry now！Yes, that is because I have heard a psalm.”
So he went to the river, which was deep and broad, threw the sack with the old drover in it into the water, and called after him, thinking that it was little Claus，“You lie there！Now you shan't trick me any more！”
Then he went home；but when he came to a place where there was a cross-road, he met Little Claus driving all his beasts.
“What's this？”cried Great Claus.“Have I not drowned you？”
“Yes，”replied Little Claus，“you threw me into the river less than half an hour ago.”
“But wherever did you get all those fine beasts from？”asked Great Claus.
“These beasts are sea-cattle，”replied Little Claus.“I'll tell you the whole story—and thank you for drowning me, for now I'm at the top of the tree. I am really rich！How frightened I was when I lay huddled in the sack, and the wind whistled about my ears when you threw me down from the bridge into the cold water！I sank to the bottom immediately；but I did not knock myself, for the most splendid soft grass grows down there.Upon that I fell；and immediately the sack was opened, and the loveliest maiden, with snow-white garments and a green wreath upon her wet hair, took me by the hand, and said，‘Are you come, Little Claus？Here you have some cattle to begin with.A mile farther along the road there is a whole herd more, which I will give to you.'And now I saw that the river formed a great highway for the people of the sea.Down in its bed they walked and drove directly from the sea, and straight into the land, to where the river ends.There it was so beautifully full offlowers and of the freshest grass；the fishes, which swam in the water, shot past my ears, just as here the birds in the air.What pretty people there were there, and what fine cattle pasturing on mounds and in ditches！”
“But why did you come up again to us directly？”asked Great Claus.“I should not have done that, if it is so beautiful down there.”
“Why，”replied Little Claus，“just in that I acted with good policy. You heard me tell you that the sea-maiden said‘A mile farther along the road'—and by the road she meant the river, for she can't go anywhere else—‘there is a whole herd of cattle for you.'But I know what bends the stream makes—sometimes this way, sometimes that；there's a long way to go round：no, the thing can be managed in a shorter way by coming here to the land, and driving across the fields towards the river again.In this manner I save myself almost half a mile, and get all the quicker to my sea-cattle！”
“Oh, you are a fortunate man！”said Great Claus.“Do you think I should get some sea-cattle too if I went down to the bottom of the river？”
“Yes, I think so，”replied Little Claus.“But I cannot carry you in the sack as far as the river；you are too heavy for me！But if you will go there, and creep into the sack yourself, I will throw you in with a great deal of pleasure.”
“Thanks！”said Great Claus；“but if I don't get any sea-cattlewhen I am down there, I shall beat you, you may be sure！”
“Oh, no；don't be so fierce！”
And so they went together to the river. When the beasts, which were thirsty, saw the stream, they ran as fast as they could to get at the water.
“See how they hurry！”cried Little Claus.“They are longing to get back to he bottom.”
“Yes, but help me first！”said Great Claus，“or else you shall be beaten.”
And so he crept into the great sack, which had been laid across the back of one of the oxen.
“Put a stone in, for I'm afraid I shan't sink else，”said Great Claus.
“That will be all right，”replied Little Claus；and he put a big stone into the sack, tied the rope tightly, and pushed against it. Plump！There lay Great Claus in the river, and sank at once to the bottom.
“I'm afraid he won't find the cattle！”said Little Claus and then he drove homeward with what he had.6.钟声/The Bell导读
每当黄昏时分，全城的人就会听到阵阵类似教堂钟声的、庄严而圣洁的奇异声音，它似乎是从那寂静而芬芳的森林里传来的，那么柔和肃穆。大家对此都产生了强烈的好奇，想去森林里看个究竟，但这森林却似乎怎么也走不到头。每次人们都会无功而返。
后来有一群刚参加完坚信礼的孩子，他们豪气万丈，决心找到这神奇钟声的来源，便相邀去了森林，只有三个人除外，他们是一个娇气虚荣的女孩、一个穷孩子和一个懦弱的孩子。孩子们走啊走，中途有许多人被沿途的景象耽搁，放弃了前进的步伐，只有王子一人坚持到了最后。此时，他遇到了那个穷孩子，他因为归还借来的礼服而没能和大家同行，现在他已经赶上来了。但因二人的判断不一致，所以分头行动。
夜幕即将降临，森林里越来越黑，王子决定爬到岩石顶峰，因为站在高处仍然可以看到太阳。他披荆斩棘、历尽艰辛，终于到达岩石顶峰，发现在另一条路上，那个穷孩子也正一步步走来。此时，夜幕降临，繁星点点，远处美丽的大海波涛滚滚，王子和穷孩子拥抱在一起，幸福的精灵在他们身边围绕，那不知源自何方的神圣钟声正在天空中为他们奏响。每到黄昏，人们就会听到奇异的声音
At evening, in the narrow streets of the great city, when the sun went down and the clouds shone like gold among the chimneys, there was frequently heard, sometimes by one, and sometimes by another, a strange tone, like the sound of a church bell；but it was only heard for a moment at a time, for in the streets there was a continual rattle of carriages, and endless cries of men and women—and that is a sad interruption. Then people said，“Now the evening bell sounds, now the sun is setting.”
Those who were walking outside the city, where the houses stood farther from each other, with gardens and little fields between, saw the evening sky looking still more glorious, and heard the sound of the bell far more clearly. It was as though the tones came from a church, deep in the still quiet fragrant wood, and people looked in that direction, and became quite meditative.
Now a certain time passed, and one said to another，“Is there not a church out yonder in the wood？That bell has a peculiarly beautiful sound！Shall we not go out and look at it more closely？”And rich people drove out, and poor people walked；but the way seemed marvellously long to them；and when they came to a number of willow trees that grew on the margin of the forest, they sat down and looked up to the long branches, and thought they werenow really in the green wood. The pastrycook from the town came there too, and pitched his tent；but another pastrycook came and hung up a bell just over his own tent, a bell, in fact, that had been tarred so as to resist the rain, but it had no clapper.And when the people went home again, they declared the whole affair had been very romantic, and that meant much more than merely that they had taken tea.Three persons declared that they had penetrated into the wood to where it ended, and that they had always heard the strange sound of bells, but it had appeared to them as if it came from the town.One of the three wrote a song about it, and said that the sound was like the voice of a mother singing to a dear good child；no melody could be more beautiful than the sound of that bell.
The Emperor of that country was also informed of it, and promised that the person who could really find out whence the sound came should have the title of The World's Bell-ringer, even if it should turn out not to be a bell.
Many went to the forest, on account of the good entertainment there；but there was only one who came back with a kind of explanation. No one had penetrated deep enough into the wood, nor had he；but he said that the sound came from a very great owl in a hollow tree；it was an owl of wisdom, that kept knocking its head continually against the tree, but whether the sound came from the owl's head, or from the trunk of the tree, he could not say with certainty.He was invested with the title of The World's Bell-ringer, and every year wrote a short treatise upon the owl；and people were just as wise after reading his works as they were before.
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