文本内容:
The DumbBook一本不说话的书In thehigh-road whichled througha woodstood asolitary farm-house;the road,in fact,ranright throughits yard.The sunwas shiningand allthe windowswere open;within thehouse peoplewerevery busy.In theyard,in anarbour formedby lilacbushes infull bloom,stood anopencoffin;thither theyhad carrieda dead man,who wasto beburied thatvery afternoon.Nobodyshed atear overhim;his facewas coveredover witha whitecloth,under his head theyhad placedalarge thickbook,the leavesof whichconsisted offolded sheetsof blotting-paper,and witheredflowerslay betweenthem;it was the herbariumwhich he had gatheredin variousplaces andwasto beburied withhim,according tohis ownwish.Every oneof theflowers init wasconnectedwith somechapter ofhis life.“Who isthe dead man”we asked.“The oldstudent,“was thereply.They saythat hewas oncean energeticyoung man,that hestudiedthe deadlanguages,and sangand evencomposed manysongs;then somethinghad happenedtohim,and inconsequence ofthis hegave himselfup todrink,body andmind.When atlast hehadruined hishealth,they broughthim into the country,where someonepaid forhis boardandresidence.He wasgentle asa childas longasthesullen mooddid notcome overhim;but whenitcame hewas fierce,became asstrong asa giant,and ranabout in the woodlike achased deer.But whenwe succeededin bringinghim home,and prevailedupon himto openthe bookwith thedried-upplants init,he wouldsometimes sitfor awhole daylooking atthis orthat plant,while frequentlythetears rolledover hischeeks.God knowswhat wasin hismind;but herequested usto putthebook intohis coffin,and nowhe liesthere.In a little whilethe lidwill beplaced uponthecoffin,and hewill havesweet restin thegrave!”一The clothwhich coveredhis facewas liftedup;the deadman sface expressedpeace asunbeamfell uponit.A swallowflew withthe swiftnessof anarrow intothe arbour,turning inits flight,and twitteredover the deadman shead.一一What astrange feelingit issurely weall knowit tolook throughold lettersof ouryoungdays;a differentlife risesup outof thepast,as itwere,with allits hopesand sorrows.Howmany of the peoplewith whomin thosedays weused to be onintimate termsappear tous asif一dead,and yetthey arestill aliveonly wehave notthought ofthem forsuch along time,whomwe imaginedwe shouldretain inour memoriesfor ever,and shareevery joyand sorrowwith them.The witheredoak leafin thebook hererecalled thefriend,the schoolfellow,who wastobehisfriend forlife.He fixedthe leaftothestudent,s capinthegreen wood,when theyvowed eternalfriendship.Where doeshe dwellnow Theleaf iskept,but thefriendship doesno longerexist.Here is a foreignhothouse plant,too tenderfor thegardens ofthe North.It is almost asifits leavesstill smeltsweet!She gaveit tohim outof herown garden一a nob1eman,s daughter.一Here isa water-lily thathehadplucked himself,and wateredwith salttears alily ofsweetwater.And here isanettle:what mayits leavestell usWhat mighthe havethought whenhe pluckedandkept itHere isalittlesnowdrop outofthesolitary wood;hereisan evergreenfrom theflower-pot atthe tavern;and hereisasimple bladeof grass.The lilacbends itsfresh fragrantflowers over thedeadmanshead;the swallowpasses again一twit,twit;”now themen comewith hammerand nails,the lidis placedoverthedeadman,while一his headrests onthe dumbbook solong cherished,now closedfor ever!。