一撮黏土

　　We do not know where Becfola came from. Nor do we know for certain where she went to. We do not even know her real name, for the name Becfola, "Dowerless" or "Small-dowered," was given to her as a nickname. This only is certain, that she disappeared from the world we know of, and that she went to a realm where even conjecture may not follow her.

　　It happened in the days when Dermod, son of the famous Ae of Slane, was monarch of all Ireland. He was unmarried, but he had many foster-sons, princes from the Four Provinces, who were sent by their fathers as tokens of loyalty and affection to the Ard-Ri, and his duties as a foster-father were righteously acquitted. Among the young princes of his household there was one, Crimthann, son of Ae, King of Leinster, whom the High King preferred to the others over whom he held fatherly sway. Nor was this wonderful, for the lad loved him also, and was as eager and intelligent and modest as becomes a prince.

　　The High King and Crimthann would often set out from Tara to hunt and hawk, sometimes unaccompanied even by a servant; and on these excursions the king imparted to his foster-son his own wide knowledge of forest craft, and advised him generally as to the bearing and duties of a prince, the conduct of a court, and the care of a people.

　　Dermod mac Ae delighted in these solitary adventures, and when he could steal a day from policy and affairs he would send word privily to Crimthann. The boy, having donned his hunting gear, would join the king at a place arranged between them, and then they ranged abroad as chance might direct.

　　On one of these adventures, as they searched a flooded river to find the ford, they saw a solitary woman in a chariot driving from the west.

　　"I wonder what that means?" the king exclaimed thoughtfully.

　　"Why should you wonder at a woman in a chariot?" his companion inquired, for Crimthann loved and would have knowledge.

　　"Good, my Treasure," Dermod answered, "our minds are astonished when we see a woman able to drive a cow to pasture, for it has always seemed to us that they do not drive well."　从前有个裁缝,他儿子个子矮小得只有大拇指那么大,因此人们叫他"大拇哥".尽管大拇哥个头小,可他挺勇敢.有一天,他对父亲说:"父亲,我要去周游世界.""好哇,我的儿子,"老裁缝一边说一边拿来一根编织用的长针,在尾端用蜡做了个圆柄,"带上这把剑备用吧."小裁缝打算和家人一起再吃顿饭就出发,于是他蹦蹦跳跳来到厨房,想看看妈妈为这最后一顿饭做了些什么."妈妈,今天吃什么饭菜?""自己看吧."妈妈说.饭菜已经做好了,放在灶台上.于是大拇哥跳上灶台朝盘子里看.

　　A certain tailor had a son, who happened to be small, and no bigger than a thumb, and on this account he was always called thumbling. He had, however, some courage in him, and said to his father, father, I must and will go out into the world. That’s right, my son, said the old man, and took a long darning-needle and made a knob of sealing-wax on it at the handle, and there is a sword for you to take with you on the way. Then the little tailor wanted to have one more meal with them, and hopped into the kitchen to see what his mother had cooked for the last time.

　　可是他把脖子伸得太长了,盘子里冒出的热气一下子把他带进了烟囱,又在空中转悠了一阵才落到地面上来.小裁缝一看自己已经在外面了,便开始四处游历.他来到本行一位大师傅家,但那里的伙食不是很好."女主人,假如你不改善伙食,"大拇哥说,"我就不住在这里,而且明早还要在你家门上用粉笔写上:'土豆太多肉太少,土豆先生再见了!'"

　　But it was already served, and the dish stood on the hearth. Then he said, mother, what is there to eat to-day. See for yourself, said his mother. So thumbling jumped on to the hearth, and peeped into the dish, but as he stretched his neck in too far the steam from the food caught hold of him, and carried him up the chimney. He rode about in the air on the steam for a while, until at length he sank down to the ground again. Now the little tailor was outside in the wide world, and he traveled about, and went to a master in his craft, but the food was not good enough for him. Mistress, if you give us no better food, said thumbling, I will go away, and early to-morrow morning I will write with chalk on the door of your house - too many potatoes, too little meat.Farewell, Mr. Potato-king.

　　"那你想吃点啥呢,蚂蚱?"女主人一边生气地说,一边抓起一块擦碗布去打他.可是小裁缝敏捷地藏到了顶针下面,探出脑袋,朝女主人直吐舌头.女主人一把抓起顶针想抓住大拇哥,可他又跳进了布堆里;等女主人抖开布来找他时,他又钻进了桌上的一道裂缝."喂,女主人!"他探出头来喊道.等女主人一巴掌打过来,他一下就缩到抽屉里去了.当然,女主人最后还是抓住了他,把他赶了出去.

　　What would you have forsooth, grasshopper, said the mistress, and grew angry, and seized a dishcloth, and was just going to strike him, but my little tailor crept nimbly under a thimble, peeped out from beneath it, and put his tongue out at the mistress. She took up the thimble, and wanted to get hold of him, but little thumbling hopped into the cloth, and while the mistress was opening it out and looking for him, he got into a crevice in the table. Ho, ho, lady mistress, cried he, and thrust his head out, and when she began to strike him he leapt down into the drawer. At last, however, she caught him and drove him out of the house.

　　小裁缝继续旅行.他来到一片大森林里,碰到一伙强盗正在谋划怎样盗窃国王的财宝.他们一见小裁缝就想:"这么小的人可以从锁眼里钻进宝库, 我们就用不着撬门了."于是,其中一人冲他喊:"喂!勇敢的哥利亚,敢跟我们去宝库吗?你可以溜进去,然后把钱扔出来给我们."大拇哥想了想说了声" 行."就跟着他们来到宝库.他把门从上到下地检查了一遍,看有没有裂缝.很快他就找到一条足以让他钻进去的缝.可就在他打算爬进去时,门口的两个卫兵看到了他,其中一个说:"那只蜘蛛爬在那儿多难看呀,我来打死它.""让它去吧,"另一个说,"又不碍你的事."　There was a handful of clay in the bank of a river. It was only common clay, coarse and heavy; but it had high thoughts of its own value, and wonderful dreams of the great place which it was to fill in the world when the time came for its virtues to be discovered.

　　Overhead, in the spring sunshine, the trees whispered together of the glory which descended upon them when the delicate blossoms and leaves began to expand, and the forest glowed the fair, clear colors, as if the dust of thousands of rubies and emeralds were hanging, in soft clouds, above the earth.

　　The flowers, surprised with the joy of beauty, bent their heads to one another, as the wind caressed them, and said: "Sisters, how lovely you have become. You make the day bright."

　　The river, glad of new strength and rejoicing in the unison of all its waters, murmured to the shores in music, telling of its release from icy fetters, its swift flight from the snow-clad mountains, and the mighty work to which it was hurrying --- the wheels of many mills to be turned, and great ships to be floated to the sea.

　　Waiting blindly in its bed, the clay comforted itself with lofty hopes. "My time will come," it said. "I was not made to be hidden forever. Glory and beauty and honor are coming to me in due season."

　　One day the clay felt itself taken from the place where it had waited so long. A flat blade of iron passed beneath it, and lifted it, and tossed it into a cart with other lumps of clay, and it was carried far away, as it seemed, over a rough and stony road. But it was not afraid, nor discouraged, for it said to itself: "This is necessary. The path to glory is always rugged. Now I am on my way to play a great part in the world."

　　But the hard journey was nothing, compared with the tribulation and distress that came after it. The clay was put into a trough and mixed and beaten and stirred and trampled. It seemed almost unbearable. But there was consolation in the thought that something very fine and noble was certainly coming out of all this trouble. The clay felt sure that, if it could only wait long enough, a wonderful reward was in store for it.

　　Then it was put upon a swiftly turning wheel, and whirled around until it seemed as if it must fly into a thousand pieces. A strange power pressed it and molded it, as it revolved, and through all the dizziness and pain it felt that it was taking a new form.

　　Then an unknown hand put it into an oven, and fires were kindled about it --- fierce and penetrating --- hotter than all the heats of summer that had ever brooded upon the bank of the river. But through all, the clay held itself together and endured its trials, in the confidence of a great future. "Surely," it thought, "I am intended for something very splendid, since such pains are taken with me. Perhaps I am fashioned for the ornament of a temple, or a precious vase for the table of a king."

　　At last the baking was finished. The clay was taken from the furnace and set down upon a board, in the cool air, under the blue sky. The tribulation was passed. The reward was at hand.

　　Close beside the board there was a pool of water, not very deep, not very clear, but calm enough to reflect, with impartial truth, every image that fell upon it. There for the first time, as it was lifted from the board, the clay saw its new shape, the reward of all its patience and pain, the consummation of its hopes --- a common flower-pot, straight and stiff, red and ugly. And then it felt that it was not destined for a king's house, nor for a palace of art, because it was made without glory or beauty or honor; and it murmured against the unknown maker, saying, "Why hast thou made me thus?"

　　Many days it passed in sullen discontent. Then it was filled with earth, and something --- it knew not what --- but something rough and brown and dead-looking, was thrust into the middle of the earth and covered over. The clay rebelled at this new disgrace. "This is the worst of all that has happened to me, to be filled with dirt and rubbish. Surely I am a failure."

　　But presently it was set in a greenhouse, where the sunlight fell warm upon it, and water was sprinkled over it, and day by day as it waited, a change began to come to it. Something was stirring within it --- a new hope. Still it was ignorant, and knew not what the new hope meant.

　　One day the clay was lifted again from its place, and carried into a great church. Its dream was coming true after all. It had a fine part to play in the world. Glorious music flowed over it . It was surrounded with flowers. Still it could not understand. So it whispered to another vessel of clay, like itself, close beside it, "Why have they set me here? Why do all the people look toward us?" And the other vessel answered, "Do you not know? You are carrying a royal scepter of lilies. Their petals are white as snow, and the heart of them is like pure gold. The people look this way because the flower is the most wonderful in the world. And the root of it is in your heart."

　　Then the clay was content, and silently thanked its maker, because, though an earthen vessel, it held so great a treasure.

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