stories to tell to children(儿童故事)-第32节
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was adopted by two young people as poor and as kind as her own parents。
She lived with them until she grew up。 Then she married； and had a little
baby of her own。 But very soon her husband died； and then the baby died；
too； and Margaret was all alone in the world。 She was poor； but she was
strong； and knew how to work。
All day； from morning until evening； she ironed clothes in a laundry。
And every day； as she worked by the window； she saw the little motherless
children from the orphan asylum； near by； working and playing about。
After a while； there came a great sickness upon the city； and so many
mothers and fathers died that there were more orphans than the asylum
could possibly take care of。 They needed a good friend； now。 You would
hardly think； would you； that a poor woman who worked in a laundry
could be much of a friend to them？ But Margaret was。 She went straight to
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the kind Sisters who had the asylum and told them she was going to give
them part of her wages and was going to work for them； besides。 Pretty
soon she had worked so hard that she had some money saved from her
wages。 With this； she bought two cows and a little delivery cart。 Then she
carried her milk to her customers in the little cart every morning； and as
she went； she begged the left…over food from the hotels and rich houses；
and brought it back in the cart to the hungry children in the asylum。 In the
very hardest times that was often all the food the children had。
A part of the money Margaret earned went every week to the asylum；
and after a few years that was made very much larger and better。 And
Margaret was so careful and so good at business that； in spite of her giving；
she bought more cows and earned more money。 With this； she built a
home for orphan babies； she called it her baby house。
After a time； Margaret had a chance to get a bakery； and then she
became a bread…woman instead of a milk…woman。 She carried the bread
just as she had carried the milk； in her cart。 And still she kept giving
money to the asylum。 Then the great war came； our Civil War。 In all the
trouble and sickness and fear of that time； Margaret drove her cart of bread；
and somehow she had always enough to give the starving soldiers； and for
her babies； besides what she sold。 And despite all this； she earned enough
so that when the war was over she built a big steam factory for her bread。
By this time everybody in the city knew her。 The children all over the city
loved her； the business men were proud of her； the poor people all came to
her for advice。 She used to sit at the open door of her office； in a calico
gown and a little shawl； and give a good word to everybody； rich or poor。
Then； by and by； one day； Margaret died。 And when it was time to read
her will； the people found that； with all her giving； she had still saved a
great deal of money； and that she had left every cent of it to the different
orphan asylums of the city；each one of them was given something。
Whether they were for white children or black； for Jews； Catholics； or
Protestants； made no difference； for Margaret always said； 〃They are all
orphans alike。〃 And just think； dears； that splendid； wise will was signed
with a cross instead of a name； for Margaret had never learned to read or
write！
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When the people of New Orleans knew that Margaret was dead； they
said； 〃She was a mother to the motherless； she was a friend to those who
had no friends； she had wisdom greater than schools can teach； we will not
let her memory go from us。〃 So they made a statue of her； just as she used
to look； sitting in her own office door； or driving in her own little cart。 And
there it stands to…day； in memory of the great love and the great power of
plain Margaret Haughery； of New Orleans。
THE DAGDA'S HARP＇1＇
＇1＇ The facts from which this story was constructed are found in the
legend as given in Ireland's Story； Johnston and Spencer （Houghton；
Mifflin； & Co。）。
You know； dears； in the old countries there are many fine stories
about things which happened so very long ago that nobody knows exactly
how much of them is true。 Ireland is like that。 It is so old that even as long
ago as four thousand years it had people who dug in the mines； and knew
how to weave cloth and to make beautiful ornaments out of gold； and who
could fight and make laws； but we do not know just where they came from；
nor exactly how they lived。 These people left us some splendid stories
about their kings； their fights； and their beautiful women； but it all
happened such a long time ago that the stories are mixtures of things that
really happened and what people said about them； and we don't know just
which is which。 The stories are called LEGENDS。 One of the prettiest
legends is the story I am going to tell you about the Dagda's harp。
It is said that there were two quite different kinds of people in Ireland：
one set of people with long dark hair and dark eyes； called Fomorians
they carried long slender spears made of golden bronze when they fought…
…and another race of people who were golden…haired and blue… eyed； and
who carried short； blunt； heavy spears of dull metal。
The golden…haired people had a great chieftain who was also a kind of
high priest； who was called the Dagda。 And this Dagda had a wonderful
magic harp。 The harp was beautiful to look upon； mighty in size； made of
rare wood； and ornamented with gold and jewels； and it had wonderful
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music in its strings； which only the Dagda could call out。 When the men
were going out to battle； the Dagda would set up his magic harp and
sweep his hand across the strings； and a war song would ring out which
would make every warrior buckle on his armor； brace his knees； and shout；
〃Forth to the fight！〃 Then； when the men came back from the battle； weary
and wounded； the Dagda would take his harp and strike a few chords； and
as the magic music stole out upon the air； every man forgot his weariness
and the smart of his wounds； and thought of the honor he had won； and of
the comrade who had died beside him； and of the safety of his wife and
children。 Then the song would swell out louder； and every warrior would
remember only the glory he had helped win for the king； and each man
would rise at the great tables his cup in his hand； and shout 〃Long live the
King！〃
There came a time when the Fomorians and the golden…haired men
were at war； and in the midst of a great battle； while the Dagda's hall was
not so well guarded as usual； some of the chieftains of the Fomorians stole
the great harp from the wall； where it hung； and fled away with it。 Their
wives and children and some few of their soldiers went with them； and
they fled fast and far through the night； until they were a long way from
the battlefield。 Then they thought they were safe； and they turned aside
into a vacant castle； by the road； and sat down to a banquet； hanging the
stolen harp on the wall。
The Dagda； with two or three of his warriors； had followed hard on
their track。 And while they were in the midst of their banqueting； the door
was suddenly burst open； and the Dagda stood there； with his men。 Some
of the Fomorians sprang to their feet； but before any of them could grasp a
weapon； the Dagda called out to his harp on the wall； 〃Come to me； O my
harp！〃
The great harp recognized its master's voice； and leaped from the wall。
Whirling through the hall； sweeping aside and killing the men who got in
its way； it sprang to its master's hand。 And the Dagda took his harp and
swept his hand across the strings in three great； solemn chords。 The harp
answered with the magic Music of Tears。 As the wailing harmony smote
upon the air； the women of the Fomorians bowed their heads and wept
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