文本内容:
The Angel安琪儿,zWHENEVER agood childdies,an angel of Godcomes downfrom heaven,takes the dead childinhis arms,spreads outhis greatwhite wings,and flieswith himover all the placeswhich thechildhad lovedduring hislife.Then hegathers alarge handfulof flowers,which hecarriesup to the Almighty,that theymay bloommore brightlyin heaventhan theydo onearth.And theAlmightypresses the flowers toHis heart,but Hekisses theflower thatpleases Himbest,andit receivesa voice,and isable tojoin the song of the chorus of bliss.〃These wordswere spokenby anangelofGod,as hecarried adead childup to heaven,and thechildlistened asif in a dream.Then theypassed overwell-known spots,where thelittle onehadoften played,and throughbeautiful gardensfull oflovely flowers.“Which of these shallwe takewith usto heavento betransplanted there”asked the angel.Close bygrew aslender,beautiful,rose-bush,but somewicked handhad brokenthe stem,andthe half-opened rosebudshung fadedand witheredon thetrailing branches.“Poor rose-bush!saidthe child,“let ustake itwith usto heaven,that itmay bloomabove inGod,s garden.,zThe angeltook upthe rose-bush;then hekissed thechild,and thelittle onehalf openedhiseyes.The angelgathered alsosome beautifulflowers,as wellas afew humblebuttercups andhearts-ease.“Now we have flowersenough,〃said thechild;but the angel onlynodded,he didnot flyupwardto heaven.It wasnight,and quitestill in the greattown.Here theyremained,and the angel hoveredovera small,narrow street,in whichlay alarge heapof straw,ashes,and sweepingsfrom thehousesof peoplewho hadremoved.There layfragments ofplates,pieces ofplaster,rags,old hats,and otherrubbish notpleasant tosee.Amidst allthis confusion,theangelpointed tothe piecesofa brokenflower-pot,and toa lumpof earthwhich hadfallen outof it.The earthhad beenkeptfrom fallingto piecesby the roots ofa witheredfield-flower,which hadbeen thrownamongstthe rubbish.〃We willtake thiswith us,〃said theangel,〃I willtell youwhy aswe flyalong.〃Andas theyflew theangel relatedthe history.“Down inthat narrowlane,in alow cellar,lived apoor sick boy;he hadbeen afflictedfromhis childhood,and even in hisbest dayshe couldjust manageto walkup anddown theroom oncrutchesonce ortwice,but nomore.During somedays insummer,the sunbeamswould lieon thefloorof thecellar forabout halfan hour.In thisspot the poor sick boy wouldsit warminghimselfin the sunshine,and watchingthe redblood throughhis delicatefingers ashe heldthembefore hisface.Then hewould sayhe hadbeen out,yet heknew nothingofthegreen forestinits springverdure,till aneighbor,s sonbrought hima greenbough froma beech-tree.This hewouldplace overhis head,and fancythat hewas in the beech-wood whilethesunshone,and thebirdscarolled gayly.One springday theneighbors boybrought him some field-flowers,and amongthemwas oneto whichtherootstill adhered.This hecarefully plantedin aflower-pot,andplaced in a window-seat nearhis bed.And theflower hadbeen plantedby afortunate hand,forit grew,put forthfresh shoots,and blossomedevery year.It becamea splendidflower-gardento thesickboy,and hislittle treasureupon earth.He wateredit,and cherishedit,and tookcareit shouldhave thebenefit ofevery sunbeamthat foundits wayinto thecellar,from theearliestmorning raytotheevening sunset.The flowerentwined itselfeven inhis dreams-forhim itbloomed,for himspread itsperfume.And itgladdened his eyes,and totheflowerhe turned,evenindeath,when theLord calledhim.He hasbeen oneyear withGod.During thattime theflowerhas stoodinthewindow,withered andforgotten,till atlength castout amongthe sweepingsinto the street,on theday ofthe lodgers,removal.And thispoor flower,withered andfadedas itis,wehaveadded toour nosegay,because itgave morereal joythan themost beautifulflowerinthegarden ofa queen.,z“But howdo youknow allthis”asked thechild whomtheangelwas carryingtoheaven.know it,〃said theangel,“because Imyself wasthepoorsickboywho walkedupon crutches,and Iknow myown flowerwell.z,Then thechild openedhiseyesand lookedintotheglorious happyface oftheangel,and atthesame momentthey foundthemselves inthat heavenlyhome whereall ishappiness andjoy.And Godpressedthedeadchild toHis heart,and wingswere givenhimsothat hecould flywith theangel,hand inhand.Then theAlmighty pressedalltheflowers toHis heart;but Hekissed thewitheredfield-flower,and itreceived avoice.Then itjoined inthesongoftheangels,who surroundedthethrone,some near,and othersinadistant circle,but allequally happy.They alljoinedin thechorusofpraise,both greatand small,-the good,happy child,and thepoor field-flower,that oncelay witheredand castaway ona heapof rubbishinanarrow,dark street.THE END。