小学英语英语故事（童话故事）AStringofPearls一串珍珠

A Stringof Pearls一串珍珠The railroadin Denmarkstill extendsonly from Copenhagen to Korsor;it isa string of pearls.Europe has a wealthof these pearls;its mostcostly arenamed Paris,London,Vienna,Naples.And yetmany aman willpoint outas hisfavorite pearlnot one of thesegreat citiesbut rathersomelittle countrytown that is stillthe homeof homesto him,the homeof thosedearest tohim.Yes,often it is nota townat all,but asingle homestead,a littlehouse,hidden amonggreenhedges,a placehardly visibleas thetrain speedsby.How manypearls arethere on the linefrom Copenhagento KorsorWe willconsider justsix,whichmost peoplemust notice;old memoriesand poetryitself givea lusterto thesepearls,so thattheyshine inour thoughts.Near thehill wherestands thepalace ofFrederick VI,the homeof Oehlenschlager，s childhood,oneof thesepearlsglistens,sheltered bySdndermarken，s woodyground.It usedto becalled〃The Cottageof Philemonand Baucis.〃Here livedRahbek andhis wife,Camma;here,under theirhospitableroof,assembled manyof thegenerations finestintellects frombusy Copenhagen;itwas thefestival homeof theintellectual.Now,don，t say,〃Ah,what achange!”No,it isstillthe homeof theintellect,a conservatoryfor sick plants,for budswhich donot havethe strengthtounfold theirtrue beautyof colorand formor showthe blossomingand fruit-bearing whichishidden within them.The insaneasylum,surrounded byhuman love,is trulya spotof holiness,a hospitalfor thesickplantsthat shallsomeday betransplanted tobloom inthe paradiseofGod.The weakestminds areassembled nowhere,where oncethe strongestand keenestmet toexchangethoughts andideas,but stillthe flameof generositymounts heavenwardfrom“The CottageofPhilemon andBaucis.〃Ancient Roskilde,the burialtown ofKings,by Hroar，s Spring,now liesbeforeus.The slendertowers of the churchlift upabove thelow townand mirrorthemselves inIssefiord.Only onegrave shallwe seekhere;itis not thatof themighty QueenMargrethe;nowithin thewhite-walled churchyardwhich wespeed closeby isthe grave,and overit laysa small,plain stone.The master of theorgan,the reviverof theold Danishromances,rests here.We recall,“The clearwaves rolledand Theredwelt aking inLeire.，z Roskilde,burial placeof kings-inyour pearlwe see the insignificantgravestone whereonis cuta lyreand thename Weyse.Now wereach Sigersted,near the town ofRingsted.The bedof theriver islow here;yellow cornwavesover thespot whereHagbarth，s boatlay at anchor,not farfrom Signesmaiden bower.Whodoes not know thelegend ofHagbarth,who washanged onthe oaktree whilethe bowerof Signeburstinto flamesWho canforget thatlegend ofimmortal love“Beautiful Sord,encircled bywoods!Your quietold cloisteredtown peepsout throughits mossytrees;the keeneyes ofyouth from the academycan lookacross thelake towardthe world，s highwayand hear theroar ofthe locomotive，s dragonas itspeeds throughthe woods.Sord,pearl ofpoetry,you areguarding thedust ofHolberg!Your palaceof learningstands beside the deepwoodlandlake likea greatwhite swan,and nearby,like thebright starflowerofthewoods,there gleamsatiny cottage,whence pioushymns echothroughout theland;words arespoken within,and thepeasantlistens andlearns ofDenmarks bygonedays.As thesong ofthe birdis to the greenwood,so isIngemann toSoro.On to thetown of Slagelse!What ismirrored herein thispearT sluster Goneforever isthecloister ofAntoorskov NB:Antvorskov;vanished arethe richhalls ofthe castle,even thelastremaining wing;yet onerelic ofolden timesstill lingershere,the woodencross onthehill.It hasbeen repaired again andagain,for itmarks thespot where,legend tellsus,SaintAnders,holy priestof Slagelse,awoke,after havingbeen broughtthere fromJerusalem in a singlenight.Korsor,birthplace ofBaggesen,masterofwords andwit!The ruinedold rampartsofthefallenfortress arenow thelast visiblewitness ofyour childhoodhome;their lengtheningsunset shadowspointtothespot wherestood thehouse inwhich youwere born.From thesehills youlooked towardSprogoand sangin undyingverse.Nowhere haveroses soredahueAnd nowhereare feathersso lightand soblue,Nowhere thethorns sodaintily grown,Asthose tochildhood innocenceknown.Humorous,charming singer!We shallweave forthee agarland ofwoodbine andfling itinto thelake,so thatthe currentmay bearit tothe coastof Kielerfiord,where yourashes rest.Thetide shallbring youa greetingfromthenew generation,a greetingfrom yourbirthplace Korsor-where Idrop mystring of pearls.Thats quiteright!A string ofpearlsdoes stretchfrom Copenhagento Korsor,z，said Grandmotherwhenshe hadheard thisread aloud.〃Its astringofpearls for me now,as it was morethanforty yearsago.We hadno railroadthen;we spentdays ona tripthat can now be made inas manyhours.That wasin1815,and I was twenty-one;that isa charmingage!Although tobe upin thesixties,that isalso a wonderful age!In myyoung daysit wasa muchrarer eventthan itis nowtocome to Copenhagen,which weconsidered thetownofall towns!My parentshadn，t visiteditfor twentyyears,but at last theywere going,and Iwas goingwith them.We hadtalked aboutthatjourney foryears before,and nowit wasactually comingtrue;it seemedas thougha newlifewere beginningfor me,and reallyinaway anew lifedid beginforme.“There wassuch abustle ofsewing andpacking;and whenatlastwe wereready tostart,sucha crowdof friendscame tobid usfarewell!It wasa longjourney we had aheadof us.Shortlybefore noonwe droveout ofOdense in my parentsHolstein carriage,and ourfriends wavedtous fromthe windowsall theway downthe street,till wepassed throughSt.J6rgen，s Gate.Theweather wasbeautiful;the birdssang,and everything was joyful;we forgotwhat along andtiresomeroad itwas toNyborg.We reachedit towardevening;but thelittle sailingvessel hadto waitforthe mail,which didntarrive untilnight.Then wegot onboard,and as far as we couldseethe wide,smooth waterslay beforeus.We laydown and went tosleep inour clothes.When Iawokeand cameon decknext morning,I couldsee nothingat all;a heavyfog coveredeverything.WhenI heardthe cockscrowing,I knewit mustbe sunrise;bells wereringing,but Ididn，tknowwhere;then themist lifted,andwefound we were stilllying veryclose toNyborg.Later inthe dayawind cameup,but itwas againstus;we tackedback andforth,and atlast werelucky enoughto reach Korsorby alittle pasteleven thatnight,having spenttwenty-two hoursto gosixteenmiles!It wasgood to get ashore,but itwas dark;the lampswere weak,and itall seemedverystrange to me,who hadnever beenin anyother townbut Odense.〃Look!’said myfather.’Baggesen wasborn there!And Bircknerlived inthat house!’WhenI heardthat,somehow thedark oldtown withits narrowlittle streetsseemed togrow largerandbrighter.And we were soglad tofeel solidearth underour feet!There wasno sleepformethat night,for Iwas soexcited overallthat I had seenand heard sinceIhadleft homethe daybefore.“Next morningwehadto leaveearly;there wasa terribleroad aheadof us,with greatbumpsand holesas faras Slagelse,and notmuch betterfrom thereon,andwe wanted togettothe Crab Innearly,so thatonthesame daywe couldreach Sordandvisit theMollers，Emil,aswecalled himthen;yes,he wasyour grandfather,my latehusband,the dean.He wasa studentat Sordthen,and hadjust passedhis secondexamination.“That afternoonwe reachedthe Crab Inn,which wasa gallantplace atthat time,the verybestinn onthe wholetrip,with theprettiest countryaround it.Yes,but youmust alladmit thatitstill is.Madame Plambekwas anindustrious hostess,and everythingin herhouse wasas smoothlyscouredasalarding board.On thewall theyhad,framed underglass,Baggesen，s letterto her;itwasindeed worthseeing,and Igreatly enjoyedlooking atit.Then he went toSoro andfoundEmil there.You canimagine howglad wewere to see him,andhetoseeus.He was so thoughtfulandcharming;he took us toseethe church,and thegraves ofAbsalon andHolberg;he inspectedtheold monkishinscriptions with us,and sailedwith usacross thelake toParnasset.It wasthemost wonderfulevening Iremember!Iwasthinking thatto becomea poetone hadonly tocometo Soroand meditateamong thoselovely,peaceful scenes.By moonlightwe followedthePhilosophers Walk,J asit，s called,the wonderfuland lonelylittle pathbesidethelake thatjoinsthe highwaynear theCrabInn.Emil stayedfor supperwith us,and myfather andmy motherdeclaredhe hadgrown sosensible andlooked sowell.It wasalmost Whitsuntide,andhepromisedthat ina fewdays hewould bein Copenhagento joinus andhis family.Ah,those fewhours inSordand attheCrabInn Icount amongthe choicestpearls ofmy life!“Next morningwe againstarted veryearly,for wehad along tripto Roskilde,where wewantedto seethechurchand Fatherwantedtovisit anold schoolfriend thatevening.We spentthatnight inRoskilde andreached Copenhagenby noonthe nextday.So wehad spentabout threedayson ajourney thatcannowbemadein threehours-Korsor toCopenhagen.The pearlson thatwayhave notgrown morecostly-that couldnever be-but thestring isnew andwonderful.〃I stayedwith myparents inCopenhagen forthree weeks.Emil waswith usfor eighteenwholedays,and whenwe returnedto Ftinenhewentwithusasfaras Korsor.There,before weparted,wewerebetrothed.So itisnowonder Ishould callthe roadfromCopenhagentoKorsora stringofpearls.“Afterwards,when Emilreceived hispost atAssens,weweremarried.We oftentalked aboutthatjourney toCopenhagen,and intendeddoing itagain,but thenyour mothercame along,and afterhercame herbrothers andsisters,and withall ofthem therewassomuch todo andtake careof!Then yourgrandfather waspromoted andmade adean;yes,everythingwashappiness andjoy,but wenever gottoCopenhagenagain.No,I havenever beenthere since,though weoften thoughtandtalked aboutit.Now rm muchtoo oldto travelby rail,but stillIm rightglad thereisa railway;its areal blessing,because itbrings you young onestomemore quickly!“Nowadays Odenseis hardlyfarther fromCopenhagen thaninmyyouth itwas fromNyborg;you canspeedto Italyinthetime ittookustoreachCopenhagen!Yes,thatiscertainly something!Itdoesn，t matterthat Ijust sithere always;let theothers travel,so longas theysometimes traveltome.“And youneedn，t laughat me,youyoungpeople,for sittingso stillhere,day afterday!I havereallyawonderfuljourney aheadof me;I shallsoon haveto travelataspeed fargreater thantherailways.For whenour Lordcalls meI shallgo tojoin yourgrandfather;and whenyou havecompletedyour workon thisdear earth,you toowill joinus;and then,if wetalk overthe daysofour mortallife,believe me,dear children,I shallsay thenas Ido now,From CopenhagentoKorsor isa perfectstringofpearls!。