英語(yǔ)故事:The Enchanted Bottle

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It was in the good days when the little people, most commonly called fairies, were more frequently seen than they are in these unbelieving times, that a farmer, named Mick Purcell, rented a few acres of barren ground in the neighborhood of the once celebratedabbey of Mourne, about thirteen miles from the city of Corknot to sell his cow except for the highest penny. Mick went his way along the road, and drove his cow slowly through the little stream which crosses it and runs under the old walls of the abbey.

"Oh, then, if I only had half of the money that's buried in you, 'tisn't driving this poor cow I'd be now! Why, then, isn't it too bad that it should be there covered over with earth, and many a one besides me wanting? Well, if it's God's will, I'll have some money myself coming back."

So saying he moved on after his beast. 'Twas a fine day, and the sun shone brightly on the walls of the old abbey as he passed under them. He then crossed a large mountainous area, and after six long miles he came to the top of that hill, and just there a man overtook him.

"Good morrow," says he.

"Good morrow, kindly," says Mick, looking at the stranger, who was a little man, you'd almost call him a dwarfover the rough road—and rough enough it was—like a shadow, without noise and effort. Mick's heart trembled within him, and he said a prayer to himself, wishing he hadn't come out that day, or that he was on Fair Hill, or that he hadn't the cow to mind, that he might run away from the bad thing—when, in the midst of his fears, he was again addressed by his companion.

"Where are you going with the cow, honest man?"

"To the fair of Cork, then," says Mick, trembling at the shrilland piercing tones of the voice. "Are you going to sell her?" said the stranger.

"Why, then, what else am I going for but to sell her?"

"Will you sell her to me?"

Mick started; he was afraid to have anything to do with the little man, and he was more afraid to say no.

"What'll you give for her?" at last says he.

"I'll tell you what, I'll give you this bottle," says the little one, pulling the bottle from under his coat.

Mick looked at him and the bottle, and, in spite of his terror, he could not help bursting into a loud fit of laughter.

"Laugh if you will," said the little man, "but I tell you this bottle is better for you than all the money you will get for the cow in Cork—ay, than ten thousand times as much." Mick laughed again.

"Why, then," says he, "do you think I am such a fool as to give my good cow for a bottle—and an empty one, too? Indeed, then, I won't."

"You had better give me the cow, and take the bottle—you'll not be sorry for it."

"Why then, and what would Molly say? I'd never hear the end of it; and how would I pay the rent? And what should we do without a penny of money?"

"I tell you this bottle is better to you than money—take it, and give me the cow. I ask you for the last time, Mick Purcell."

Mick started. "How does he know my name?" thought he.

The stranger proceeded: "Mick Purcell, I know you, and I have regard for you; therefore, do as I warn you, or you may be sorry for it. How do you know but your cow will die before you go to Cork?"

Mick was going to say "God forbid!" but the little man went on (and he was too attentiveto say anything to stop him; for Mick was a civil man, and he knew better than to interrupt a gentleman, and that's more than many people know now).

"And how do you know but there will be much cattle at the fair, and you will get a bad price, or maybe you might be robbed when you are coming home; but what need I talk more to you when you are determinedto throw away your luck, Mick Purcell ."

"Oh, no, I would not throw away my luck, sir," said Mick; "and if I was sure the bottle was as good as you say, though I never liked an empty bottle, although I had drank the contents of it, I'd give you the cow in the name..."

"Never mind names," said the stranger, "but give me the cow; I would not tell you a lie. Here, take the bottle, and when you go home do what I direct exactly."

Mick hesitated.

"Well, then, goodbye, I can stay no longer; once more, take it, and be rich; refuse it, and beg for your life, and see your children in poverty, and your wife dying for want—that will happen to you, Mick Purcell!" said the little man with a maliciousgrin, which made him look ten times more ugly than ever.#p#

"Maybe 'tis true," said Mick, still hesitating: he did not know what to do—he could hardly help believing the old man—and finally, in a fit of desperation, he seized the bottle. "Take the cow," said he, "and if you are telling a lie, the curse of the poor will be on you."

"I care neither for your curses nor your blessingsthe road towards his cabin; but he could not help turning back his head to look after the purchaser of his cow, who was nowhere to be seen.

"Lord between us and harm!" said Mick. "He can't belong to this earth; but where is the cow?" She too was gone, and Mick went homeward muttering prayers and holding fast the bottle.

"And what would I do if it broke?" thought he. "Oh! But I'll take care of that." So he put it into his inside coat pocket, and went on anxious to prove his bottle, and doubting of the reception he should meet from his wife. Balancing his anxieties with his expectations, his fears with his hopes, he reached home in the evening, and surprised his wife, sitting over the turf fire in the big chimney.

"Oh! Mick, are you come back? Sure you weren't at Cork all the way! What has happened to you? Where is the cow? Did you sell her) How much money did you get for her? What news have you? Tell us everything about it."

"Why, then, Molly, if you'll give me time, I'll tell you all about it. If you want to know where the cow is, 'tisn't Mick can tell you, for the never a know does he know, where she is now."

"Oh! Then you sold her; and where's the money?"

"Arrah! Stop awhile, Molly, and I'll tell you all about it."

"But what is that bottle under your waistcoat?" said Molly, spying its neck sticking out.

"Why, then, be easy now, can't you?" says Mick, "till I tell it to you," and putting the bottle on the table, "That's all I got for the cow."

His poor wife was thunderstruck. "All you got! And what good is that, Mick? Oh! I never thought you were such a fool; and what'll we do for the rent?"

"Now, Molly," says Mick, "can't you listen to reason? Didn't I tell you how the old man, or whatever he was, met me—no, he did not meet me neither, but he was there with me—on the big hill, and how he made me sell him the cow, and told me the bottle was the only thing for me?"

"Yes, indeed, the only thing for you, you fool!" said Molly, seizing the bottle to hurlit at her poor husband's head; but Mick caught it, and quietly (for he minded the old man's advice) loosened his wife's grasp, and placed the bottle again in his coat. Poor Molly sat down crying while Mick told her his story. His wife could not help believing him, particularly as she had as much faith in fairies as she had in the priest. She got up, however, without saying one word, and began to sweep the earthen floor with a bunch of heath; then she tidied up everything, and put out the long table, and spread the clean cloth, for she had only one, upon it, and Mick, placing the bottle on the ground, looked at it and said:

"Bottle, do your duty."

"Look there! Look there, Mammy!" said his chubbyeldestson, a boy about five years old. "Look there! Look there!" And he sprang to his mother's side as two tiny little fellows rose like light from the bottle, and in an instant covered the table with dishes and plates of gold and silver, full of the finest victualsthat ever were seen, and when all was done went into the bottle again. Mick and his wife looked at everything with astonishmentmeal, though they couldn't taste half the dishes.

"Now," says Molly, "I wonder will those two good little gentlemen carry away these fine things again?"

They waited, but no one came; so Molly put up the dishes and plates very carefully, saying, "Why, then, Mick, that was no lie sure enough; but you'll be a rich man yet, Mick Purcell." Mick and his wife and children went to their beds, not to sleep, but to settle about selling the fine things they did not want, and to take more land. Mick went to Cork and sold his plate, and bought a horse and cart, and began to show that he was making money; and they did all they could to keep the bottle a secret; but for all that their landlord found it out, for he came to Mick one day and asked him where he got all his money—sure it was not by the farm; and he bothered him so much that at last Mick told him of the bottle. His landlord offered him a deal of money for it, but Mick would not give it, till at last he offered to give him all his farm forever; so Mick, who was very rich, thought he'd never want any more money, and gave him the bottle. But Mick was mistaken—he and his family spent money as if there was no end of it; and to make the story short, they became poorer and poorer, till at last they had nothing left but one cow; and Mick once more drove his cow before him to sell her at Cork fair, hoping to meet the old man and get another bottle. It was hardly daybreak when he left home, and he walked on at a good pace till he reached the big hill: the mists were sleeping in the valleys and curling like smoke wreaths upon the brown heath around him. The sun rose on his left, and just at his feet a larksprang from its grassycouch and poured forthits joyousmorning song, ascendinginto the clear blue sky till its form like a speckin the airiness blending, and thrilling with music, was melting in light.

Mick crossed himself, listening as he advanced to the sweet song of the lark, but thinking, notwithstanding, all the time of the little old man; when, just as he reached the summit of the hill, he cast his eyes over the extensive prospectbefore and around him, he was startled and rejoiced by the same well-known voice:

"Well, Mick Purcell, I told you you would be a rich man."

"Indeed, then, sure enough I was, that's no lie for you, sir. Good morning to you, but it is not rich I am now—but have you another bottle, for I want it now as much as I did long ago? So if you have it, sir, here is the cow for it."

"And here is the bottle," said the old man, smiling, "you know what to do with it."

"Oh! Then, sure I do, as good right I have."

"Well, farewell forever, Mick Purcell; I told you you would be a rich man."

"And goodbye to you, sir," said Mick. So Mick walked back as fast as he could, never looking after the white-faced little gentleman and the cow, so anxious was he to bring home the bottle. Well, he arrived with it safely enough, and called out as soon as he saw Molly: "Oh, sure, I've another bottle!"

"Arrah, then, have you? Why then, you're a lucky man, Mick Purcell, that's what you are." In an instant she put everything right; and Mick, looking at his bottle, exultantlycried out: "Bottle, do your duty!"

In a twinkling, two great stoutmen with big cudgels issued from the bottle (I do not know how they got room in it), and belaboredpoor Mick and his wife and all his family, till they lay on the floor, when in they went again.

Mick, as soon as he recovered, got up and looked about him; he thought and thought, and at last he took up his wife and his children; and leaving them to recover as well as they could, he took the bottle under his coat and went to his landlord, who had a great company: he got a servant to tell him he wanted to speak to him, and at last he came out to Mick.

"Well, what do you want now?"

"Nothing, sir, only I have another bottle."

"Oh, ho! Is it as good as the first?"

"Yes, sir, and better; if you like, I will show it to you before all the ladies and gentlemen."

"Come along, then."

So saying, Mick was brought into the great hall, where he saw his old bottle standinghigh up on a shelf. "Ah! Ha!" says he to himself. "Maybe I'll have you by-and-by."

"Now," says the landlord, "show us your bottle."

Mick set it on the floor and uttered the words. In a moment the landlord was tumbled on the floor; ladies and gentlemen, servants and all, were running, and roaring, and sprawling, and kicking, and shrieking. Wine cups and plates were knocked about in every direction, until the landlord called out: "Stop those two devils, Mick Purcell, or I'll have you hanged!"

"They never shall stop," said Mick, "till I get my own bottle that I see up there at the top of that shelf."

"Give it down to him, give it down to him, before we are all killed!" says the landlord. Mick put his bottle into his bosom; in jumped the two men into the new bottle, and he carried them home. I need not tell how he got richer than ever, how his son married his landlord's only daughter, how he and his wife died when they were very old, and how some of the servants, fighting at their wake, broke the bottles so no one could ever use them again.

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