《安徒生童话英文版》第342章

　　"This is the story of Waldemar Daa and his daughters. Tell itbetter, any of you, if you know how," said the Wind; and he rushedaway, and was gone.

　　THE END.

　　1872

　　FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

　　THE STORY OF THE YEAR

　　by Hans Christian Andersen

　　IT was near the end of January, and a terrible fall of snow waspelting down, and whirling through the streets and lanes; thewindows were plastered with snow on the outside, snow fell in massesfrom the roofs. Every one seemed in a great hurry; they ran, theyflew, fell into each other's arms, holding fast for a moment as longas they could stand safely. Coaches and horses looked as if they hadbeen frosted with sugar. The footmen stood with their backs againstthe carriages, so as to turn their faces from the wind. The footpassengers kept within the shelter of the carriages, which couldonly move slowly on in the deep snow. At last the storm abated, anda narrow path was swept clean in front of the houses; when two personsmet in this path they stood still, for neither liked to take the firststep on one side into the deep snow to let the other pass him. Therethey stood silent and motionless, till at last, as if by tacitconsent, they each sacrificed a leg and buried it in the deep snow.Towards evening, the weather became calm. The sky, cleared from thesnow, looked more lofty and transparent, while the stars shone withnew brightness and purity. The frozen snow crackled under foot, andwas quite firm enough to bear the sparrows, who hopped upon it inthe morning dawn. They searched for food in the path which had beenswept, but there was very little for them, and they were terriblycold. "Tweet, tweet," said one to another; they call this a newyear, but I think it is worse than the last. We might just as wellhave kept the old year; I'm quite unhappy, and I have a right to beso."

　　"Yes, you have; and yet the people ran about and fired off guns,to usher in the new year," said a little shivering sparrow. "Theythrew things against the doors, and were quite beside themselveswith joy, because the old year had disappeared. I was glad too, forI expected we should have some warm days, but my hopes have come tonothing. It freezes harder than ever; I think mankind have made amistake in reckoning time."

　　"That they have," said a third, an old sparrow with a whitepoll; "they have something they call a calendar; it's an inventionof their own, and everything must be arranged according to it, butit won't do. When spring comes, then the year begins. It is thevoice of nature, and I reckon by that."

　　"But when will spring come?" asked the others.

　　"It will come when the stork returns, but he is very uncertain,and here in the town no one knows anything about it. In the countrythey have more knowledge; shall we fly away there and wait? we shallbe nearer to spring then, certainly."

　　"That may be all very well," said another sparrow, who had beenhopping about for a long time, chirping, but not saying anything ofconsequence, "but I have found a few comforts here in town which,I'm afraid, I should miss out in the country. Here in thisneighborhood, there lives a family of people who have been so sensibleas to place three or four flower-pots against the wall in thecourt-yard, so that the openings are all turned inward, and the bottomof each points outward. In the latter a hole has been cut large enoughfor me to fly in and out. I and my husband have built a nest in one ofthese pots, and all our young ones, who have now flown away, werebrought up there. The people who live there of course made the wholearrangement that they might have the pleasure of seeing us, or theywould not have done it. It pleased them also to strew bread-crumbs forus, and so we have food, and may consider ourselves provided for. So Ithink my husband and I will stay where we are; although we are notvery happy, but we shall stay."

　　"And we will fly into the country," said the others, "to see ifspring is coming." And away they flew.

　　In the country it was really winter, a few degrees colder thanin the town. The sharp winds blew over the snow-covered fields. Thefarmer, wrapped in warm clothing, sat in his sleigh, and beat his armsacross his chest to keep off the cold. The whip lay on his lap. Thehorses ran till they smoked. The snow crackled, the sparrows hoppedabout in the wheel-ruts, and shivered, crying, "Tweet, tweet; whenwill spring come?