THE BUTTERFLY故事　　THERE was once a butterfly who wished for a bride, and, as　　may be supposed, he wanted to choose a very pretty one from　　among the flowers.

He glanced, with a very critical eye, at　　all the flower-beds, and found that the flowers were seated　　quietly and demurely on their stalks, just as maidens should　　sit before they are engaged; but there was a great number of　　them, and it appeared as if his search would become very　　wearisome.

The butterfly did not like to take too much　　trouble, so he flew off on a visit to the daisies.

The French　　call this flower "Marguerite," and they say that the little　　daisy can prophesy.

Lovers pluck off the leaves, and as they　　pluck each leaf, they ask a question about their lovers; thus:　　"Does he or she love me?

- Ardently?

Distractedly?

Very much?

A　　little?

Not at all?

" and so on.

Every one speaks these words　　in his own language.

The butterfly came also to Marguerite to　　inquire, but he did not pluck off her leaves; he pressed a　　kiss on each of them, for he thought there was always more to　　be done by kindness.

　　"Darling Marguerite daisy," he said to her, "you are the　　wisest woman of all the flowers.

Pray tell me which of the　　flowers I shall choose for my wife.

Which will be my bride?

　　When I know, I will fly directly to her, and propose.

"　　But Marguerite did not answer him; she was offended that　　he should call her a woman when she was only a girl; and there　　is a great difference.

He asked her a second time, and then a　　third; but she remained dumb, and answered not a word.

Then he　　would wait no longer, but flew away, to commence his wooing at　　once.

It was in the early spring, when the crocus and the　　snowdrop were in full bloom.

　　"They are very pretty," thought the butterfly; "charming　　little lasses; but they are rather formal.

"　　Then, as the young lads often do, he looked out for the　　elder girls.

He next flew to the anemones; these were rather　　sour to his taste.

The violet, a little too sentimental.

The　　lime-blossoms, too small, and besides, there was such a large　　family of them.

The apple-blossoms, though they looked like　　roses, bloomed to-day, but might fall off to-morrow, with the　　first wind that blew; and he thought that a marriage with one　　of them might last too short a time.

The pea-blossom pleased　　him most of all; she was white and red, graceful and slender,　　and belonged to those domestic maidens who have a pretty　　appearance, and can yet be useful in the kitchen.

He was just　　about to make her an offer, when, close by the maiden, he saw　　a pod, with a withered flower hanging at the end.

　　"Who is that?

" he asked.

　　"That is my sister," replied the pea-blossom.

　　"Oh, indeed; and you will be like her some day," said he;　　and he flew away directly, for he felt quite shocked.

　　A honeysuckle hung forth from the hedge, in full bloom;　　but there were so many girls like her, with long faces and　　sallow complexions.

No; he did not like her.

But which one did　　he like?

　　Spring went by, and summer drew towards its close; autumn　　came; but he had not decided.

The flowers now appeared in　　their most gorgeous robes, but all in vain; they had not the　　fresh, fragrant air of youth.

For the heart asks for　　fragrance, even when it is no longer young; and there is very　　little of that to be found in the dahlias or the dry　　chrysanthemums; therefore the butterfly turned to the mint on　　the ground.

You know, this plant has no blossom; but it is　　sweetness all over,- full of fragrance from head to foot, with　　the scent of a flower in every leaf.

　　"I will take her," said the butterfly; and he made her an　　offer.

But the mint stood silent and stiff, a　　s she listened to　　him.

At last she said,-　　"Friendship, if you please; nothing more.

I am old, and　　you are old, but we may live for each other just the same; as　　to marrying- no; don't let us appear ridiculous at our age.

"　　And so it happened that the butterfly got no wife at all.

　　He had been too long choosing, which is always a bad plan.

And　　the butterfly became what is called an old bachelor.

　　It was late in the autumn, with rainy and cloudy weather.

　　The cold wind blew over the bowed backs of the willows, so　　that they creaked again.

It was not the weather for flying　　about in summer clothes; but fortunately the butterfly was not　　out in it.

He had got a shelter by chance.

It was in a room　　heated by a stove, and as warm as summer.

He could exist here,　　he said, well enough.

　　"But it is not enough merely to exist," said he, "I need　　freedom, sunshine, and a little flower for a companion.

"　　Then he flew against the window-pane, and was seen and　　admired by those in the room, who caught him, and stuck him on　　a pin, in a box of curiosities.

They could not do more for　　him.

　　"Now I am perched on a stalk, like the flowers," said the　　butterfly.

"It is not very pleasant, certainly; I should　　imagine it is something like being married; for here I am　　stuck fast.

" And with this thought he consoled himself a　　little.

　　"That seems very poor consolation," said one of the plants　　in the room, that grew in a pot.

　　"Ah," thought the butterfly, "one can't very well trust　　these plants in pots; they have too much to do with mankind.

"　　THE END【英语童话故事THE BUTTERFLY故事查看网站：[db:时间]】