书城外语澳大利亚学生文学读本(套装1-6册)
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第127章 第五册(18)

"No, " he said, in weary tones; " no, this is not Slap- bang. "The clown, standing by the little bed, looked gravely down upon the child with infinite kind-heartedness. He shook his head, and, looking at the anxious father and the mother in her agony, said smiling, "He is right. This is not Slap-bang. " And he left the room.

"I shall not see him; I shall never see him again, " said the child, softly.

But half an hour had not passed since the clown had d i s a p p e a r e d w h e n , a l l a t o n c e , t h e d o o r w a s s h a r p l y opened, and behold, in his spangled tunic, the yellow tuft upon his head, the golden butterfly upon his back, a large smile opening his mouth like a money-box, his face white with flour, Slap-bang, the true Slap-bang, theDrawn by A. E. Davies

"Bravo, slap-bang."

Slap-bang of the circus burst into view. And, in his little white cot, with the joy of life in his eyes, laughing, crying, happy, saved, the little fellow clapped his feeble hands, and, with the recovered gaiety of seven years old, cried out :-"Bravo! Bravo, Slap-bang! It is he this time ! This is Slap- bang ! Long live Slap-bang! Bravo! "When the doctor called that day, he found, sitting beside the little patient"s pillow, a white-faced clown, who kept him in a constant ripple of laughter, and who was observing, as he stirred a lump of sugar to the bottom of a glass of cooling drink, " You know, Francis, if you do not drink your medicine, you will never see Slap-bang again. "And the child drank up the draught. "Is it not good? ""Very good. Thank you, Slap-bang. "

" Doctor, " said the clown to the physician, " do not be jealous, but it seems to me that my tomfooleries have done more good than your medicines. "The poor parents were both crying; but, this time, it was with joy.

From that time till little Francis was on foot again, a carriage pulled up, every day, before the workman"s door; a man got out, wrapped in a great-coat with the collar turned up to his ears, and, underneath, dressed as for the circus, with his face white with flour.

"What do I owe you, sir? " said Mr. Grant to the good clown,on the day when Francis left the house for the first time. "For Ireally owe you everything ! "

The clown extended to the parents his two huge hands. "A shake of the hand, " he said with a smile. Then, kissing the little boy on both his pale cheeks, he added, laughing, "And leave to print on my visiting cards," Slap-bang, clown-doctor, physician to little Francis !""Adapted from a translation, in The Strand Magazine, of the French story "Boum Boum, " written by Jules Claretie. In the original, Boum Boum (boom) is the name of the clown.

Author-Jules Claretie, pen-name of Arsène Arnaud, a popular French writer, born in 1840, died 1913. He was in the siege of Paris in 1870. He wrote many books and became a member of the French Academy.

General.-Would this be a fit title for the story, "Laughter the BestMedicine "? What was the character of the father? What was the character of the clown? Why are children so interested in circuses? Is this a tender story or a funny story? Which part of it do you like best? What kind of man must Jules Claretie have been? Do you think he called the parents "Mr. and Mrs. Grant " and the boy "Francis "? His name for the clown was "Boum-Boum. " Would you like to learn French? Why?

Lesson 25

KILLED AT THE FORD

He is dead, the beautiful youth,

The heart of honour, the tongue of truth, He, the life and light of us all,Whose voice was blithe as a bugle-call, Whom all eyes followed with one consent,The cheer of whose laugh, and whose pleasant word, Hushed all murmurs of discontent.

Only last night, as we rode along, Down the dark of the mountain-gap, To visit the picket guard at the ford, Little dreaming of any mishap,He was humming the words of some old song : "Two red roses he had on his cap,And another he bore at the point of his sword. "Sudden and swift, a whistling ball

Came out of a wood, and the voice was still; Something I heard in the darkness fall, And for a moment my blood grew chill;I spake in a whisper, as he who speaks In a room where some one is lying dead,But he made no answer to what I said.

We lifted him up to his saddle again,

And, through the mire and the mist and the rain, Carried him back to the silent camp,And laid him, as if asleep, on his bed;

And I saw by the light of the surgeon"s lamp Two white roses upon his cheeks,And one, just over his heart, blood-red !

And I saw in a vision how far and fleet

That fatal bullet went speeding forth,

Till it reached a town in the distant north, Till it reached a house in a sunny street, Till it reached a heart that ceased to beat Without a murmur, without a cry;And a bell was tolled in that far-off town

For one who had passed from cross to crown,

And the neighbours wondered that she should die.

Longfellow.

Author. -HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW(1807-1882) was anAmerican poet who was a professor of modern languages. He wrote many beautiful and simple original poems and translations. He is often called the "Children"s Poet."General. -What was the hero like? When did the incident happen? Who didthe deed? Where did his comrades take him? Who was the second victim? To what war does Longfellow refer? Do things like this happen in other wars? Write your own reflections on the matter.

Lesson 26

THE RAINBOW

My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky.

So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man;So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die!

The Child is father of the Man; And I could wish my days to beBound each to each by natural piety.

Wordswortn

Lesson 27

THE DAWN OF PEACE

Put off, put off your mail, O kings, And beat your brands to dust!

Your hands must learn a surer grasp; Your hearts, a better trust.

Oh, bend aback the lance"s point, And break the helmet bar!

A noise is in the morning wind, But not the note of war.

Upon the grassy mountain paths, The glittering hosts increase:

They come !They come ! How fair their feet!

They come who publish peace.

And victory, fair victory, Our enemies are ours !

For all the clouds are clasped in light,

And all the earth with flowers.