小学英语英语故事（童话故事）TheComet彗星

The Comet彗星Now therecame a comet with its shinynucleus and its menacingtail.People from the greatcastles andpeoplefrom thepoor hutsgazed atit.So did the crowdin thestreet,and sodid theman whowent hissolitaryway across the pathless heath.Everyone hadhis ownthoughts.Come and look at the omenfrom heaven.Comeout and see thismarvelous sight,〃they cried,and everyonehastened to look.But alittle boyand his mother stillstayed insidetheir room.The tallowcandle wasburning and the motherthoughtshe sawa bitof wood-shaving in the light.The tallowformed ajagged edgearound thecandle,andthenitcurled.ThemotherbelievedtheseweresignsthathersonwouIdsoondie.Thewood-shavingwascirclingtoward him.This was an oldsuperstition,but shebelieved it.The little boy livedmany moreyears onearth.Indeed helived to see the comet returnsixty yearslater.The boydid not see the wood-shaving in thecandle-light,and histhoughts werenot aboutthe cometwhich then,for thefirst timein hislife,shonebrightly in the sky.He satquietly with anearthenware bowlbefore him.The bow1was filledwith soapywater,into whichhe dippedthe headof aclay pipe.Then heput thepipe stemin hismouth,and b1ew soapbubbles,large andsmall.They quiveredand spunin beautifulcolors.They changedfrom yellowto red,andfrom redto purpleor blueand thenthey turnedbright green,like leaveswhen thesun shinesthrough them.The boy*smothersaid,“May Godgrant youmany moreyears onearth-as manyyears as the bubblesyouare blowing.”“So many,so many!”he cried.I cannever blowall thesoeipy waterinto bubbles.There goesone year,there goesanother one;see howthey fly!”he exclaimed,as bubblescame loosefrom hispipe andfloatedaway.A fewof themb1ew intohis eye,where theyburned,and smarted,and madehis tearsflow.In everybubblehe sawa pictureof the future,gl imineringand glisterling.“This isthe timetolookatthe comet,“cried theirneighbors.Come outdoors.Don*t sitin yourroom.”The mothertook herboy bythehand.He hadtoput asidehisclaypipe,andstop playingwith thesoapbubbles,because therewas acomet tosee.The boysaw thebright bal1of fire,withits shining tail.Some saidit wasthree yards long,while othersinsistedit wasseveral millionyardslong-such adifference.Most of the peoplewho saidthese thingswere deadand buriedwhen the comet cameagain.But thelittleboy,toward whomthe wood-shaving hadcircled,and ofwhom hismother thought,“He willsoon die,〃stilllived on,though he had grownold and his hairwas white.White hairsare theflowers of age,“the sayinggoes,and hehad manysuch flowers.He was an oldschoolmaster.The schoolchiIdren thoughthim verywiseand learned,because heknew history,and geography,and allthere isto beknown aboutthe heavensandthe stars.^Everything comesagain,〃he said.Tf you will payattention topeople andevents,youwilllearn thattheyalways conicback.There maybe ahundred yearsbetween,or manyhundreds ofyears,but onceagainwe shallsee the same character,in anothercoat andin anothercountry.And theschoolmaster thentoldthem aboutWilliam Tell,who was forced to shoot anapple fromhis son，s head,but befoiehe shotthe arrowhehid anotherone in his shirt,to shootinto theheart of the wickedGessler.This happenedin Switzerland.But manyyears before,the samething happenedin Denmarkto Palnatoke.He toowasforcedtoshootan applefromhis son*s head,and hetoo hidan arrowin hisshirt toavenge thecruelty.And morethan athousandyears beforethat,the samestory waswritten inEgypt.It happenedbefore andwill happenagain,just assureasthe comet returns.Off itflies intospace,and isgone foryears,but sti11it comesback.Hespoke ofthecometthat was expected,thesamecomet hehad seenasaboy.The schoolmasterknew whatwent onintheskies,and hethought muchabout ittoo,but hedid notneglecthistory andgeography.His gardenwas laidout inthe shapeof amap ofDenmark.In itgrew herbsand flowerswhichflourished indifferent partsoftheland.“Fetch mepeas,“he said,and theywent tothe gardenbed thatrepresented Laaland.“Fetch mebuckwheat,z，he said,and theyfetched itfrom Langeland.Lovely bluegentian wasplanted inSkagen,and theshiningChristthorn inSilkeborg.Towns andcities weremarked withsmal1statues.Here wasthe dragonand St.Knud,who stood for Odense.Absalon withthe bishop*s staffstoodforSord.The littleboat withoars markedthesite ofAarhus.In theschoolmasters gardenyou couldlearn thegeography ofDenmark,but firstyouhad tobe instructedby himand thatwas apleasure.Now thatthecomet wasexpectedagain,he toldabout it,and hetold whatpeople hadsaid inthe olddayswhen itlast wasseen.They hadsaid thatacomet year wasa goodyear forwine,and thatwater couldbemixed with thiswine withoutbeing detected.Therefore thewine merchantsthought wellofacometyear.For fourteendays andfourteen nightsthe skywas cloudedover.They couldnotseethecomet,and yetitwas there.The oldschoolmaster satinhislittle chambernext tothe schoolroom.The oldBornholm clockof his grandfather*s timestood inthe corner,though itsheavy leadweights movedneither upnor down,nor didits pendulumever swing.The littlecuckoo,that used to comeout tocall thepassing hours,hadlong agostopped doinghis duty.The clockneither strucknor ticked.The clockwas decidedlyout oforder.But the old clavichordat whichhe sathad beenmade inhis parents*time,anditstill had a tuneor twoleftin it.The stringscould stillplay.Tremulous thoughthey were,they couldplay forhim themelodiesof awhole lifetime.As theold manheard them,he rememberedmany things,both pleasantand sad,that hadhappenedinthelong yearswhich had gone bysince he wasalittle boyand sawthecomet.Now thatthe comethadcome again,he rememberedwhat hismother hadsaid aboutthewood-shaving circlingtoward him.Heremembered thefine soapbubbles hehad blown,one forevery yearofhis1i fehehadsaid ashe lookedatthem glistening andg1earning inwonderful colors.He sawin themall hispleasures and sorrow-everything,both thegood and the bad.lie sawthe childat hisplay,andtheyouth withhis fancies.His wholelife,iridescent andbright,floated beforehis eyes.And inthat splendorhe sawhis futuretoo,in bubblesof timeto come.First theold manheard fromthe stringsoftheclavichord themelodies oftimes past,and sawthe bubblesofyears goneby,colored withmemories.He heardhis grandmother*s knittingsong:“Surely noAmazon Thefirststockings knit.”And thenthe stringsplayed thesongs hisold nurseusedtosing forhim:“There wereso manydangers Inthisworld topass throughFor peoplewho wereyoung Andonly littleknew.”Now themelodies ofhis firstbal1were playing,for theminuet andmolinasky-soft melancholytunes thatbroughttears totheoldmans eyes.A roaringwar-march,then apsalm,then happytunes.The yearswhirledpast asif theywere thosebubbles heblew when hewasa1ittleboy.His eyeswere turnedtowards thewindow.A cloudbillowed acrossthe sky,and asit passedhe sawthe cometwithits shiningnucleus anditsshining,misty veil.It seemedto himas thoughit wereonly yesterdayeveningwhenhehad lastseen thatcomet,yet awhole busylifetime laybetween thatevening andthis.Thenhe wasa child,looking throughbubbles intothefuture;now thosebright bubbleswere allbehind him.Oncemore hehadachild,s outlookand achild*s faith.His eyessparkled,andhishands struckthe keys.Therewas thesound ofa breakingstring.“Come outandsee,“cried hisneighbors.The cometis here,and theskyis clear.Come outandlook!”The oldschoolmaster didnot answer.He hadgone wherehe couldsee moreclearly.His soulwas ona journeyfargreater thanthe comets,andtherealm towhich itwent wasfar morespacious thanthat inwhich thecometmoved.Again thecometwasseen fromthe highcastle andfromthelowly hut.The crowdinthestreet gazedup atit,andsodidtheman whowent hissolitary wayacrossthepathlessheath.But theschoolmaster,s soulwasseen byGod,and bythose dearones whohadgonebefore him,and whomhe longedtosee.。