愛薇塔樂學英文

ID you ever hear the story of the old street lamp? It is not remarkably interesting, but for once in a way you may as well listen to it. It was a most respectable old lamp, which had seen many, many years of service, and now was to retire with a pension. It was this evening at its post for the last time, giving light to the street. His feelings were something like those of an old dancer at the theatre, who is dancing for the last time, and knows that on the morrow she will be in her garret, alone and forgotten. The lamp had very great anxiety about the next day, for he knew that he had to appear for the first time at the town hall, to be inspected by the mayor and the council, who were to decide if he were fit for further service or not;—whether the lamp was good enough to be used to light the inhabitants of one of the suburbs, or in the country, at some factory; and if not, it would be sent at once to an iron foundry, to be melted down. In this latter case it might be turned into anything, and he wondered very much whether he would then be able to remember that he had once been a street lamp, and it troubled him exceedingly. Whatever might happen, one thing seemed certain, that he would be separated from the watchman and his wife, whose family he looked upon as his own. The lamp had first been hung up on that very evening that the watchman, then a robust young man, had entered upon the duties of his office. Ah, well, it was a very long time since one became a lamp and the other a watchman. His wife had a little pride in those days; she seldom condescended to glance at the lamp, excepting when she passed by in the evening, never in the daytime. But in later years, when all these,—the watchman, the wife, and the lamp— had grown old, she had attended to it, cleaned it, and supplied it with oil. The old people were thoroughly honest, they had never cheated the lamp of a single drop of the oil provided for it.

This was the lamp’s last night in the street, and to-morrow he must go to the town-hall,—two very dark things to think of. No wonder he did not burn brightly. Many other thoughts also passed through his mind. How many persons he had lighted on their way, and how much he had seen; as much, very likely, as the mayor and corporation themselves! None of these thoughts were uttered aloud, however; for he was a good, honorable old lamp, who would not willingly do harm to any one, especially to those in authority. As many things were recalled to his mind, the light would flash up with sudden brightness; he had, at such moments, a conviction that he would be remembered. “There was a handsome young man once,” thought he; “it is certainly a long while ago, but I remember he had a little note, written on pink paper with a gold edge; the writing was elegant, evidently a lady’s hand: twice he read it through, and kissed it, and then looked up at me, with eyes that said quite plainly, ‘I am the happiest of men!’ Only he and I know what was written on this his first letter from his lady-love. Ah, yes, and there was another pair of eyes that I remember,—it is really wonderful how the thoughts jump from one thing to another! A funeral passed through the street; a young and beautiful woman lay on a bier, decked with garlands of flowers, and attended by torches, which quite overpowered my light. All along the street stood the people from the houses, in crowds, ready to join the procession. But when the torches had passed from before me, and I could look round, I saw one person alone, standing, leaning against my post, and weeping. Never shall I forget the sorrowful eyes that looked up at me.” These and similar reflections occupied the old street lamp, on this the last time that his light would shine. The sentry, when he is relieved from his post, knows at least who will succeed him, and may whisper a few words to him, but the lamp did not know his successor, or he could have given him a few hints respecting rain, or mist, and could have informed him how far the moon’s rays would rest on the pavement, and from which side the wind generally blew, and so on.

On the bridge over the canal stood three persons, who wished to recommend themselves to the lamp, for they thought he could give the office to whomsoever he chose. The first was a herring’s head, which could emit light in the darkness. He remarked that it would be a great saving of oil if they placed him on the lamp-post. Number two was a piece of rotten wood, which also shines in the dark. He considered himself descended from an old stem, once the pride of the forest. The third was a glow-worm, and how he found his way there the lamp could not imagine, yet there he was, and could really give light as well as the others. But the rotten wood and the herring’s head declared most solemnly, by all they held sacred, that the glow-worm only gave light at certain times, and must not be allowed to compete with themselves. The old lamp assured them that not one of them could give sufficient light to fill the position of a street lamp; but they would believe nothing he said. And when they discovered that he had not the power of naming his successor, they said they were very glad to hear it, for the lamp was too old and worn-out to make a proper choice.

At this moment the wind came rushing round the corner of the street, and through the air-holes of the old lamp. “What is this I hear?” said he; “that you are going away to-morrow? Is this evening the last time we shall meet? Then I must present you with a farewell gift. I will blow into your brain, so that in future you shall not only be able to remember all that you have seen or heard in the past, but your light within shall be so bright, that you shall be able to understand all that is said or done in your presence.”

“Oh, that is really a very, very great gift,” said the old lamp; “I thank you most heartily. I only hope I shall not be melted down.”

“That is not likely to happen yet,” said the wind; “and I will also blow a memory into you, so that should you receive other similar presents your old age will pass very pleasantly.”

“That is if I am not melted down,” said the lamp. “But should I in that case still retain my memory?”

“Do be reasonable, old lamp,” said the wind, puffing away.

At this moment the moon burst forth from the clouds. “What will you give the old lamp?” asked the wind.

“I can give nothing,” she replied; “I am on the wane, and no lamps have ever given me light while I have frequently shone upon them.” And with these words the moon hid herself again behind the clouds, that she might be saved from further importunities. Just then a drop fell upon the lamp, from the roof of the house, but the drop explained that he was a gift from those gray clouds, and perhaps the best of all gifts. “I shall penetrate you so thoroughly,” he said, “that you will have the power of becoming rusty, and, if you wish it, to crumble into dust in one night.”

But this seemed to the lamp a very shabby present, and the wind thought so too. “Does no one give any more? Will no one give any more?” shouted the breath of the wind, as loud as it could. Then a bright falling star came down, leaving a broad, luminous streak behind it.

“What was that?” cried the herring’s head. “Did not a star fall? I really believe it went into the lamp. Certainly, when such high-born personages try for the office, we may as well say ‘Good-night,’ and go home.”

And so they did, all three, while the old lamp threw a wonderfully strong light all around him.

“This is a glorious gift,” said he; “the bright stars have always been a joy to me, and have always shone more brilliantly than I ever could shine, though I have tried with my whole might; and now they have noticed me, a poor old lamp, and have sent me a gift that will enable me to see clearly everything that I remember, as if it still stood before me, and to be seen by all those who love me. And herein lies the truest pleasure, for joy which we cannot share with others is only half enjoyed.”

“That sentiment does you honor,” said the wind; “but for this purpose wax lights will be necessary. If these are not lighted in you, your particular faculties will not benefit others in the least. The stars have not thought of this; they suppose that you and every other light must be a wax taper: but I must go down now.” So he laid himself to rest.

“Wax tapers, indeed!” said the lamp, “I have never yet had these, nor is it likely I ever shall. If I could only be sure of not being melted down!”

The next day. Well, perhaps we had better pass over the next day. The evening had come, and the lamp was resting in a grandfather’s chair, and guess where! Why, at the old watchman’s house. He had begged, as a favor, that the mayor and corporation would allow him to keep the street lamp, in consideration of his long and faithful service, as he had himself hung it up and lit it on the day he first commenced his duties, four-and-twenty years ago. He looked upon it almost as his own child; he had no children, so the lamp was given to him. There it lay in the great arm-chair near to the warm stove. It seemed almost as if it had grown larger, for it appeared quite to fill the chair. The old people sat at their supper, casting friendly glances at the old lamp, whom they would willingly have admitted to a place at the table. It is quite true that they dwelt in a cellar, two yards deep in the earth, and they had to cross a stone passage to get to their room, but within it was warm and comfortable and strips of list had been nailed round the door. The bed and the little window had curtains, and everything looked clean and neat. On the window seat stood two curious flower-pots which a sailor, named Christian, had brought over from the East or West Indies. They were of clay, and in the form of two elephants, with open backs; they were hollow and filled with earth, and through the open space flowers bloomed. In one grew some very fine chives or leeks; this was the kitchen garden. The other elephant, which contained a beautiful geranium, they called their flower garden. On the wall hung a large colored print, representing the congress of Vienna, and all the kings and emperors at once. A clock, with heavy weights, hung on the wall and went “tick, tick,” steadily enough; yet it was always rather too fast, which, however, the old people said was better than being too slow. They were now eating their supper, while the old street lamp, as we have heard, lay in the grandfather’s arm-chair near the stove. It seemed to the lamp as if the whole world had turned round; but after a while the old watchman looked at the lamp, and spoke of what they had both gone through together,—in rain and in fog; during the short bright nights of summer, or in the long winter nights, through the drifting snow-storms, when he longed to be at home in the cellar. Then the lamp felt it was all right again. He saw everything that had happened quite clearly, as if it were passing before him. Surely the wind had given him an excellent gift. The old people were very active and industrious, they were never idle for even a single hour. On Sunday afternoons they would bring out some books, generally a book of travels which they were very fond of. The old man would read aloud about Africa, with its great forests and the wild elephants, while his wife would listen attentively, stealing a glance now and then at the clay elephants, which served as flower-pots.

“I can almost imagine I am seeing it all,” she said; and then how the lamp wished for a wax taper to be lighted in him, for then the old woman would have seen the smallest detail as clearly as he did himself. The lofty trees, with their thickly entwined branches, the naked negroes on horseback, and whole herds of elephants treading down bamboo thickets with their broad, heavy feet.

“What is the use of all my capabilities,” sighed the old lamp, “when I cannot obtain any wax lights; they have only oil and tallow here, and these will not do.” One day a great heap of wax-candle ends found their way into the cellar. The larger pieces were burnt, and the smaller ones the old woman kept for waxing her thread. So there were now candles enough, but it never occurred to any one to put a little piece in the lamp.

“Here I am now with my rare powers,” thought the lamp, “I have faculties within me, but I cannot share them; they do not know that I could cover these white walls with beautiful tapestry, or change them into noble forests, or, indeed, to anything else they might wish for.” The lamp, however, was always kept clean and shining in a corner where it attracted all eyes. Strangers looked upon it as lumber, but the old people did not care for that; they loved the lamp. One day—it was the watchman’s birthday—the old woman approached the lamp, smiling to herself, and said, “I will have an illumination to-day in honor of my old man.” And the lamp rattled in his metal frame, for he thought, “Now at last I shall have a light within me,” but after all no wax light was placed in the lamp, but oil as usual. The lamp burned through the whole evening, and began to perceive too clearly that the gift of the stars would remain a hidden treasure all his life. Then he had a dream; for, to one with his faculties, dreaming was no difficulty. It appeared to him that the old people were dead, and that he had been taken to the iron foundry to be melted down. It caused him quite as much anxiety as on the day when he had been called upon to appear before the mayor and the council at the town-hall. But though he had been endowed with the power of falling into decay from rust when he pleased, he did not make use of it. He was therefore put into the melting-furnace and changed into as elegant an iron candlestick as you could wish to see, one intended to hold a wax taper. The candlestick was in the form of an angel holding a nosegay, in the centre of which the wax taper was to be placed. It was to stand on a green writing table, in a very pleasant room; many books were scattered about, and splendid paintings hung on the walls. The owner of the room was a poet, and a man of intellect; everything he thought or wrote was pictured around him. Nature showed herself to him sometimes in the dark forests, at others in cheerful meadows where the storks were strutting about, or on the deck of a ship sailing across the foaming sea with the clear, blue sky above, or at night the glittering stars. “What powers I possess!” said the lamp, awaking from his dream; “I could almost wish to be melted down; but no, that must not be while the old people live. They love me for myself alone, they keep me bright, and supply me with oil. I am as well off as the picture of the congress, in which they take so much pleasure.” And from that time he felt at rest in himself, and not more so than such an honorable old lamp really deserved to be.

ID你可曾聽到老路燈的故事嗎？這是不顯著有意思，但對於曾經在某種程度上你不妨聽聽吧。這是一個最值得尊敬的老燈，它看到了很多很多年的服務，現在是退休與養老金。這是今晚在其職位上一次，到街上給光。他的感覺是像那些老舞者在劇院，誰是跳舞，最後一次，而且知道在明天，她將在她的閣樓裡，孤獨和遺忘。該燈有大約第二天很大的焦慮，因為他知道，他在市政廳出現的第一次，由市長和市議會，誰是決定他是否適合進行進一步的服務或檢查不;，無論燈是不夠好，可用於點亮一個郊區，或在國內，一些工廠的居民; 如果沒有，則它將被發送一次到鑄造廠，將被熔化了。在後一種情況下，它可能會變成什麼，他不知道很他是否會再能記得他曾經是一盞路燈，它困擾著他好生。可能發生的事情，有一點似乎可以肯定，他會從守望和他的妻子，他的家人他看作自己的分離。該燈首次有人掛了的守望，那麼身強力壯的小伙子，曾在他的辦公室的職責輸入的當晚。嗯，嗯，這是一個很長的時間，因為一個成了一盞燈，另一個是守望。他的妻子有一點驕傲在那些日子裡; 她很少在白天屈尊一眼燈，除當她在晚上過去了，從來沒有。但在以後的幾年，當所有這些， -守望，妻子，以及燈具已垂垂老矣，她出席了給它洗乾淨後，用石油供給它。老人們徹底說實話，他們從來沒有被騙的油一滴提供給它的燈。

這是在街上的燈的最後一夜，明天他必須去鎮公所，二非常黑暗的東西想。難怪他不燃燒得更加明亮。許多其他的想法也通過他的頭腦。有多少他已經點燃的道路上，有多少他見過的人; 盡可能多的，很可能的是，作為市長和企業本身！所有這些想法被大聲說出然而; 因為他是一個高尚而誠實的舊燈泡，誰也不會心甘情願地做傷害任何一個，尤其是當權者。由於很多事情都回憶起在他的腦海中，燈會閃爍了突然的亮度; 他，在這樣的時刻，他會記住一個信念。“曾經有一個英俊的年輕男子一次，”他想; “這肯定是一個很久以前，但我記得他有一個小紙條，上寫有金色邊緣粉紅色的紙; 寫的是優雅的，看樣子一位女士的手：他兩次讀通過，並吻了一下，然後抬頭看著我，用眼神表示一清二楚，“我是最幸福的男人！” 只有他和我知道什麼是寫在這個由他的夫人 - 愛他的第一個字母。啊，是的，還有另一雙眼睛，我記得的， - 這真是奇妙的想法從一件事怎麼跳到另一個！通過街道通過的葬禮; 一個年輕美麗的女子躺在一個棺材，上面裝飾著花環，並通過電筒，其中相當擊敗我的光出席了會議。所有沿街站立從房子的人，在人群中，準備參加遊行。但是，當火炬從我面前過去了，我可以環顧四周，只見一個人獨自站立，靠在我的帖子，和哭泣。我永遠不會忘記那個悲傷的眼神看著我。“這些以及類似的反射佔領了舊路燈，在這最後的時刻，他的光將照耀。哨兵，當他從他的崗位鬆了口氣，至少知道誰將會接替他，並可能耳語了幾句話給他，但燈不知道他的繼任者，或者他可以給他一些提示尊重雨，或霧，並可能已通知他有多遠月亮的光芒，我想休息在人行道上，並從該側風一般的吹，等。

在運河橋站三個人，誰希望自己推薦的燈，因為他們認為他可以給辦公室誰就他選擇。第一個是鯡魚的頭部，這可能在黑暗中發光。他表示，這將是一個極大的節約了油，如果他們把他放在燈柱。排名第二的是一塊爛木頭，這也閃耀在黑暗中。他認為自己從一個老莖下降，一旦森林的驕傲。第三個是螢火蟲，以及他是如何發現他有辦法燈無法想像，但有他在，並能真正給光以及其他人。但朽木和鯡魚的頭部宣布最莊嚴，所有他們認為神聖，認為螢火蟲只給了光線在特定的時間，而且絕不允許與自己競爭。舊燈泡向他們保證，他們沒有一個人能提供足夠的光以填補路燈的位置; 但他們會相信什麼他說。而當他們發現他沒有命名他的繼任者的力量，他們說，他們很高興聽到它，因為燈太舊和破舊作出正確的選擇。

在這一刻，風聞訊趕來輪街的拐角處，並通過舊燈泡的空氣孔。“？這是什麼我聽到”他說。“你要離開明天？這是今晚最後一次，我們應當符合？然後，我必須出示你的告別禮物。我會打擊到你的大腦，這樣在將來你不僅要能夠記住所有你見過或聽說過，在過去，但你的光中應如此明亮，你應該能夠理解所有說或者在你面前做了。“

“哦，那真的是一個非常，非常偉大的禮物，說：”老燈; “我謝謝你最衷心。我只希望我不會被融化了。“

“這是不太可能發生的是，”風說; “我也會吹內存到你，這樣你應該會收到其他類似的禮物你年老時會過得很愉快。”

“也就是說，如果我不回爐”之稱的燈。“但我應該在這種情況下仍然保留我的記憶？”

“你是合理的，舊燈泡，說：”風，吞雲吐霧。

這時月亮迸發從雲層中。“你願意出多少舊燈泡？”問風。

“我可以給什麼，”她回答說; “我是在減弱，沒有燈曾經給了我的光線，我經常照在他們身上。”而與這些詞的月亮又自己躲在雲層後面，她可能會進一步強求保存。就在這時，一滴落在燈，從房子的屋頂，但降幅解釋說，他是從那些灰色的雲的禮物，也許是最重要的禮物。“我會如此徹底地滲透你，”他說，“你將有機會成為生鏽的權力，而且，如果你想它，碎成塵土了一晚。”

但是，這似乎燈泡的很寒酸目前，風也這樣認為。“難道沒有人給了？將沒有人給了？“喊風的氣息，大聲，因為它可以。然後，一個明亮的流星落下來，留下了廣闊，明亮的條紋。

“那是什麼？”哭鯡魚的頭。“沒有一個明星下跌呢？我真的相信它走進了燈。當然，在這樣的高出生的人士盡量在辦公室，我們不妨說“晚安”，然後回家。“

因此，他們所做的，所有三個，而舊燈泡扔了一個奇妙的光強在他的周圍。

“這是一個光榮的禮物，”他說。“明亮的星一直是一個歡樂的我，一直照耀著更出色，比我以往任何時候都得以照耀它，雖然我曾嘗試與我的整個力量; 現在他們已經注意到了我，一個可憐的老燈，並送我的禮物，使我清楚地看到一切，我記得，好像它仍然站在我面前，並通過所有那些誰愛我可以看到。而就在這裡最真實的快樂，歡樂，我們不能與他人分享的只有一半享受。“

“這種情緒確實你的榮譽，說：”風; “但就此而言蠟燈將是必要的。如果這些在你沒有點燃，特定院系將不會在最有益於他人。星星有沒有想到這一點; 他們假設你和所有其他的光必須是一個小蠟燭，但我現在必須走了下來“於是，他奠定了自己休息。

“蠟錐度，真的！”之稱的燈，“我從來沒有過這些，也不是可能我這輩子應。如果我只能確保不被融化的！“

第二天。好吧，也許我們最好傳過來的第二天。晚上來了，並且燈被擱在了爺爺的椅子，你猜在哪裡！所以，在老更夫的房子。他曾懇求，作為一個忙，市長和公司會允許他保持路燈，考慮他長期和忠實的服務，因為他有他自己掛起來，把它點燃在他第一次開始了他的職責的一天，四和二十年前。他看著就幾乎和自己的孩子; 他沒有孩子，所以燈是給他的。在那裡，它躺在大扶手椅靠近溫暖的火爐。它看起來幾乎是猶如變得更大，因為它顯得相當填補了椅子上。老人們坐在他們的晚飯，鑄造友善的目光在舊燈泡，就是他們會心甘情願已經考上桌子的地方。這是很真實的，他們住在一個地下室裡，兩名碼深在地球上，並且他們必須穿過一個石通道去自己的房間，但在它是溫暖和舒適，列表條已被釘圓門。床和小窗口有窗簾，一切都顯得乾淨整潔。在靠窗的座位站著兩個好奇的花盆一名水手，叫基督教，已經從東或西印度帶過來。他們是粘土，並在兩頭大象的形式，用開背; 他們是空心的，充滿了大地，並通過開放空間的花開花。在一個長大一些很細的韭菜或韭菜; 這是菜園。其他的大象，其中載有美麗的天竺葵，他們稱自己的花圃。牆上掛著一個大的彩色打印，相當於維也納的會議，和所有的帝王一次。一個時鐘，用重物，掛在牆上，就“嘀，嘀，”足夠牢固; 但它總是相當太快，然而，老人們說的是不是太慢更好。他們現在正在吃晚飯的，而舊路燈，正如我們所聽到的，躺在爺爺的扶手椅靠近火爐。它似乎燈彷彿整個世界已經轉過身; 但經過一段時間的老更夫看了看燈，並談到了他們曾經一起走過， - 在雨和霧兩個走了; 在夏季的短明亮的夜晚，或在漫長的冬夜，通過漂流雪災，當他渴望成為家中的地窖裡。然後燈覺得這是沒事了。他看到發生了很清楚的是，就好像它是在他面前經過的一切。當然風給了他一個很好的禮物。老人們都非常積極和勤奮，他們從來沒有閒置甚至一個小時。上週日下午，他們會帶出一些書，一般的書，他們都非常喜歡的旅行。老頭將朗讀對非洲，其巨大的森林和野生大象，而他的妻子會傾聽，偶爾偷瞄了一眼粘土大象，其中擔任花盆。

“我幾乎可以想像我看到這一切，”她說; 再怎麼燈希望有一個小蠟燭在他是亮的，因為那時的老女人會見過的最小的細節盡可能清楚地為他做了他自己。崇高的樹木，用自己厚厚的樹枝纏繞在一起，在馬背上的裸體黑人，和大象踩下來竹林與他們廣泛的，沉重的腳整個牛群。

“有什麼用我所有的能力，”嘆老燈“的時候，我不能得到任何蠟燈; 他們只有油和牛油在這裡，這些不會做。“有一天，蠟蠟燭的一大堆結束發現他們的方式進入地窖。大塊被燒毀，而較小的老女人保持打蠟她的線程。所以有現在蠟燭就夠了，但它從未發生過任何一個把一小片的燈。

“在這裡，我現在用我的稀有權力”思想的燈，“我有在我院系，但我不能分享; 他們不知道，我可以與美麗的織錦覆蓋這些白色的牆壁，或將其轉變成高貴的森林，或者更確切地說，以其他任何他們可能希望為“燈，然而，始終保持清潔光亮的角落裡它吸引了所有人的目光。陌生人看著就如木材，但老人們沒人理了; 他們愛的燈。有一天，這是守望的生日，老婦人走近燈，面帶微笑地對自己說：“我將有一個照明到一天是為了紀念我的老男人。”與燈叮叮噹當在他的金屬框架，為他認為，“現在我終於會在我有一盞燈”，但畢竟沒有蠟燈被放置在燈，但石油如常。經過整個晚上的燈燒毀，並開始察覺太清楚，恆星的禮物仍然是一個隱藏的寶藏了一輩子。然後，他做了一個夢; 對，一個與他的院系，做夢是沒有困難。它出現在他面前，老人們都死了，而他被送往鑄造廠進行回爐。這給他造成了相當多的焦慮時，他被要求在市政廳市長和市議會之前出現的一天。但是，儘管他已經被賦予了從什麼時候，他高興的防銹陷入衰退的力量，他沒有做它用。因此，他被放入熔融爐變成優雅的鐵藝燭台，你會希望看到，人們為了保存一個小蠟燭。燭台是一個天使拿著花束，在其中心的小蠟燭是要放置的形式。這是站在一個綠色的寫字台，在一個非常舒適的室內; 很多書都散落，和燦爛的畫作掛在牆上。房間的主人是一位詩人，智者則; 他的一切思想或寫被拍到在他周圍。自然表現出自己對他有時在黑暗的森林，別人在歡快的草地，其中鸛被昂首闊步，亦或是在整個泡沫海上船舶航行與清澈湛藍的天空之上，或在夜間閃閃發光的星星的甲板上。“我擁有什麼權力”之稱的燈，從夢中醒來; “我幾乎要被熔化了; 但沒有，那一定不能在老人們的生活。他們愛我為我自己獨自一人，他們讓我明亮，並與油供給我。我作為小康的大會，他們在採取了這麼多的快樂的畫面。“從那時候，他在休息感受到自己，而不是更多的話比這樣一個光榮的舊燈泡真的當之無愧地成為。