Text | Hans Christian Andersen · Anchor | Chang Hao
In our lives, we often inadvertently do some good things, some are widely known, some are forgotten, and some are hidden in the depths of some people's hearts.
Today at ten o'clock Jun would like to share with you the fairy tales from Hans Christian Andersen, telling you with warm brushstrokes that hiding is not the same as forgetting, and some kindness, although invisible, will always be remembered.
From ten o'clock Jun
Once upon a time there was an old house, surrounded by a muddy trench with a drawbridge, which hung more than when it was laid down, because the usual visitors were not many distinguished guests.
There are many holes under the eaves that are designed for firing shots— and if the enemy is close, boiling water or white-hot lead can also be poured on their heads from these holes.
The beams in the house were all high, which was good, because the stove was burning thick and damp wood so that there was a place for the smoke in the stove to go.
Hanging on the walls were portraits of men in armor, and solemn portraits of wives dressed in a large pile of clothes.
But one of the most honorable of them still lives here. Her name was Mete Morgans. She was the hostess of this mansion.
One night came a group of robbers. They killed three people in her family, plus a watchdog.
Then they put Mrs. Matt on the dog's house with a leash. They themselves sat down in the living room, drinking wine taken from her cellar—all very good malts.
Mrs. Mett was chained by a dog, but she couldn't make a bark.
The robber's squire came up to her. He was sneaking away because he would never let anyone else see him, or they would beat him to death.
"Mrs. Matt Morgens!" "Do you remember that when your husband was alive, my father had to ride a wooden horse (riding a wooden horse: a punishment in ancient times?) The prisoner was tied to a wooden stool and his feet did not fall to the ground, which was very painful. ）？ At that time you interceded for him, but to no avail.
He had to ride until he was crippled. But you sneaked over, and like I am now, you personally laid two stones at his feet so that he could rest. No one saw it, or people saw it and pretended not to see it.
You were a young benevolent lady at the time. My father told me about it. I didn't say it to anyone, but I didn't forget! Mrs. Matt Morgense, now I'm going to release you! ”
The two of them pulled their horses out of the stables and rode away in the wind and rain, and received kind help from the people.
"I did a little favor for the old man, and now I get a lot of rewards!" Matt Morgens said.
"Not saying it doesn't mean forgetting!" Xiao Wei said. The robbers were later hanged.
There was also an old house; it still exists today. It did not belong to Mrs. Matt Morgens, but to another aristocratic family.
It's happening in our time. The sun shines on the golden domes of the tower, the islets of trees float on the water like bouquets of flowers, and wild swans swim around these islands.
There are many roses growing in the garden. The mistress of the house herself is a most beautiful rose, shining in joy— in the joy of being kind to others.
The good deeds she did were not manifested in the eyes of the world, but hidden in people's hearts — hiding is not the same as forgetting.
She now walked from this house to a lonely little hut in the field.
In the hut lived a poor, paralyzed woman. The windows in the small room were open to the north, and the sun couldn't shine in. All she could see was a small field cut off by a high ditch.
But today there was sunlight coming in. There was God's warm, happy sunlight coming in her room. Sunlight came in through the window on the south side, and there was a wall at first on the south side.
The paralyzed patient sat in the warm sunlight, looking out at the woods and the coast.
The world has now become so vast and beautiful that it can only be done with a word from the good lady in that house.
"How easy it is to say that, how easy it is to do that little help!" She said, "But the joy I get is boundless greatness and happiness!" ”
That's why she did so many good things, caring for all the people in the poor's house and in the rich man's house—because there were also miserable people in the rich man's house.
Her good deeds were hidden from no one, but God had not forgotten them.
There is also an old house, which is located in a lively big city. The house had rooms and living rooms, but we didn't have to go in; we just had to look at the kitchen.
Inside it is both warm and clear, clean and neat. The copperware was shining, the table was bright, and the sink was as clean as a freshly wiped board.
It was all done by a maid who did everything, but she also made time to dress herself as if she were going to the church for a service.
She had a bow on her hat—a black bow.
This shows that she is serving a funeral. But she had no one to mourn, for she had neither a father nor a mother; neither relatives nor lovers; she was a poor woman.
She had only been engaged to a poor young man once. They loved each other.
Once he came to see her.
"The two of us have nothing!" He said, "The widow across from me spoke warmly to me. She will make me rich, but I have only you in my heart. What do you think I can do well! ”
"Do what you think can make you happy!" The woman said, "Please be kind to her and be dear to her; but please remember that from the moment we broke up, the two of us could not see each other very often!" ”
Years have passed. She met her former friends and lovers on the street. He looked sick and sad. Her heart was very sad, and she couldn't help but ask, "How are you doing lately?" ”
"All good in every way!" He said: "My wife is a person of integrity and goodness, but my heart is only thinking of you. I fought myself, and this struggle is now coming to an end. We will only say goodbye before God. ”
A week passed.
There was a message in the newspaper that morning that he had died, so she was now mourning, and her lover was dead. The newspaper said he left behind three children of a wife and ex-husband. The sound of the copper bell is noisy, but the texture of the copper is pure.
Her black bow meant mourning, but the woman's face looked even more mournful. This sorrow is hidden in the heart, but it will never be forgotten.
Hey, now there are three stories – three petals on a stalk.
Would you like more alfalfa petals like this? What is in the books of the heart is that they are hidden, but they are not forgotten.
-Music & Pictures-
Background music | 《rhythm of the rain》
Image source | Visual China
-Author-
Hans Christine Andersen (1805-1875), a famous Danish fairy tale writer of the 19th century, is not only one of the representative figures of fairy tales in world literature, but also known as the "sun of children's literature in the world". The original title of this article: "Hiding is not the same as forgetting".
-Anchor-
Chang Hao, a well-known anchor of Hangzhou Radio, holds many programs such as trend, sound appreciation, travel, etc., and has a music café with good quality and materials, and will listen to the addictive gentle boyfriend voice. WeChat public account: three voices.
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