英文童话故事

英文童话故事

　　无论是在学校还是在社会中，大家都经常接触到童话吧，童话故事的主旨是教人勇敢、热情、善良、乐观、慈爱，反对卑鄙、怯懦、邪恶、虚伪。你知道都有哪些经典童话故事吗？下面是小编精心整理的英文童话故事，希望对大家有所帮助。

英文童话故事1

　　蚂蚁与屎壳郎

　　summer and other animals have a leisurely life, only the ants run around in the fields to collect wheat and barley, to their winter food storage. surprised todung beetle asked him why he was so diligent. ant at the time said nothing.

　　winter came, a heavy rain washed cow dung,dung beetle hungry, where ant went begging, ants said to him: “hey, buddy, if at the time when labor is not to criticize, but also to work, we would not have the hungry. ”

　　it is said that, despite the changing situation, the people can take precautions to avoid disaster.

　　夏，别的动物都悠闲地生活，只有蚂蚁在田里跑来跑去，搜集小麦和大麦，给自己贮存冬季吃的食物。屎壳郎惊奇地问他为何这般勤劳。蚂蚁当时什么也没说。

　　冬来了，大雨冲掉了牛粪，饥饿的'屎壳郎，走到蚂蚁那里乞食，蚂蚁对他说：“喂，伙计，如果当时在劳动时，不是批评，而是也去做工，现在就不会忍饥挨饿了。”

　　这是说，尽管风云变化万千，未雨绸缪的人都能避免灾难。

英文童话故事2

　　ONE WINTER a Farmer found a Snake stiff and frozen with cold. He had compassion on it, and taking it up, placed it in his bosom. The Snake was quickly revived by the warmth, and resuming its natural instincts, bit its benefactor, inflicting on him a mortal wound.

　　"Oh," cried the Farmer with his last breath, "I am rightly served for pitying a scoundrel." The greatest kindness will not bind the ungrateful .

英文童话故事3

　　One morning a fox sees a cock.He think,"This is my breakfast.''

　　He comes up to the cock and says,"I know you can sing ve]www.niubb.net[ry well.Can you sing for me?''The cock is glad.He closes his eyes and begins

　　to sing.The fox sees that and caches him in his mouth and carries him away.

　　The people in the field see the fox.They cry,"Look,look!The fox is carrying the cock away.''The cock says to the fox,"Mr Fox,do you understand?The people say you are carrying their cock them it is theirs.''

　　The fox opens his mouth ang says,"The cock is mine,not yours.''Just then the cock runs away from the fox and flies into the tree.

英文童话故事4

　　IT was bitterly cold, the sky glittered with stars, and not a breeze stirred. "Bump" an old pot was thrown at a neighbor's door; and "bang, bang," went the guns, for they were greeting the New Year.

　　It was New Year's Eve, and the church clock was striking twelve.

　　"Tantarara, tantarara," sounded the horn, and the mailcoach came lumbering up. The clumsy vehicle stopped at the gate of the town; all the places had been taken, for there were twelve passengers in the coach.

　　"Hurrah! hurrah!" cried the people in the town; for in every house the New Year was being welcomed; and as the clock struck, they stood up, the full glasses in their hands, to drink success to the new comer. "A happy New Year," was the cry; "a pretty wife, plenty of money, and no sorrow or care."

　　The wish passed round, and the glasses clashed together till they rang again; while before the towngate the mail coach stopped with the twelve strange passengers. And who were these strangers? Each of them had his passport and his luggage with him; they even brought presents for me, and for you, and for all the people in the town. "Who were they? what did they want? and what did they bring with them?"

　　"Goodmorning," they cried to the sentry at the towngate.

　　"Goodmorning," replied the sentry; for the clock had struck twelve. "Your name and profession?" asked the sentry of the one who alighted first from the carriage.

　　"See for yourself in the passport," he replied. "I am myself;" and a famous fellow he looked, arrayed in bearskin and fur boots.

　　"I am the man on whom many persons fix their hopes. Come to me tomorrow, and I'll give you a New Year's present. I throw shillings and pence among the people; I give balls, no less than thirtyone; indeed, that is the highest number I can spare for balls. My ships are often frozen in, but in my offices it is warm and comfortable. My name is JANUARY. I'm a merchant, and I generally bring my accounts with me."

　　Then the second alighted. He seemed a merry fellow. He was a director of a theatre, a manager of masked balls, and a leader of all the amusements we can imagine. His luggage consisted of a great cask.

　　"We'll dance the bung out of the cask at carnival time," said he;

　　"I'll prepare a merry tune for you and for myself too. Unfortunately I have not long to live the shortest time, in fact, of my whole family only twentyeight days. Sometimes they pop me in a day extra; but I trouble myself very little about that. Hurrah!"

　　"You must not shout so," said the sentry.

　　"Certainly I may shout," retorted the man; "I'm Prince Carnival, travelling under the name of FEBRUARY."

　　The third now got out. He looked a personification of fasting; but he carried his nose very high, for he was related to the "forty (k)nights," and was a weather prophet. But that is not a very lucrative office, and therefore he praised fasting. In his buttonhole he carried a little bunch of violets, but they were very small.

　　"MARCH, March," the fourth called after him, slapping him on the shoulder, "don't you smell something? Make haste into the guard room; they're drinking punch there; that's your favorite drink. I can smell it out here already. Forward, Master March." But it was not true; the speaker only wanted to remind him of his name, and to make an APRIL fool of him; for with that fun the fourth generally began his career. He looked very jovial, did little work, and had the more holidays. "If the world were only a little more settled," said he: "but sometimes I'm obliged to be in a good humor, and sometimes a bad one, according to circumstances; now rain, now sunshine. I'm kind of a house agent, also a manager of funerals. I can laugh or cry, according to circumstances. I have my summer wardrobe in this box here, but it would be very foolish to put it on now. Here I am. On Sundays I go out walking in shoes and white silk stockings, and a muff."

　　After him, a lady stepped out of the coach. She called herself Miss MAY. She wore a summer dress and overshoes; her dress was a light green, and she wore anemones in her hair. She was so scented with wildthyme, that it made the sentry sneeze.

　　"Your health, and God bless you," was her salutation to him.

　　How pretty she was! and such a singer! not a theatre singer, nor a ballad singer; no, but a singer of the woods; for she wandered through the gay green forest, and had a concert there for her own amusement.

　　"Now comes the young lady," said those in the carriage; and out stepped a young dame, delicate, proud, and pretty. It was Mistress JUNE, in whose service people become lazy and fond of sleeping for hours. She gives a feast on the longest day of the year, that there may be time for her guests to partake of the numerous dishes at her table. Indeed, she keeps her own carriage; but still she traveled by the mail, with the rest, because she wished to show that she was not highminded. But she was not without a protector; her younger brother, JULY, was with her. He was a plump young fellow, clad in summer garments and wearing a straw hat. He had but very little luggage with him, because it was so cumbersome in the great heat; he had, however, swimmingtrousers with him, which are nothing to carry. Then came the mother herself, in crinoline, Madame AUGUST, a wholesale dealer in fruit, proprietress of a large number of fish ponds and a land cultivator. She was fat and heated, yet she could use her hands well, and would herself carry out beer to the laborers in the field. "In the sweat of the face shalt thou eat bread," said she; "it is written in the Bible." After work, came the recreations, dancing and playing in the Greenwood, and the "harvest homes." She was a thorough housewife.

　　After her a man came out of the coach, who is a painter; he is the great master of colors, and is named SEPTEMBER. The forest, on his arrival, had to change its colors when he wished it; and how beautiful are the colors he chooses! The woods glow with hues of red and gold and brown. This great master painter could whistle like a blackbird. He was quick in his work, and soon entwined the tendrils of the hop plant around his beer jug. This was an ornament to the jug, and he has a great love for ornament. There he stood with his color pot in his hand, and that was the whole of his luggage. A landowner followed, who in the month for sowing seed attended to the ploughing and was fond of field sports. Squire OCTOBER brought his dog and his gun with him, and had nuts in his game bag. "Crack, crack." He had a great deal of luggage, even an English plough. He spoke of farming, but what he said could scarcely be heard for the coughing and gasping of his neighbor. It was NOVEMBER, who coughed violently as he got out. He had a cold, which caused him to use his pockethandkerchief continually; and yet he said he was obliged to accompany servant girls to their new places, and initiate them into their winter service. He said he thought his cold would never leave him when he went out woodcutting, for he was a master sawyer, and had to supply wood to the whole parish. He spent his evenings preparing wooden soles for skates, for he knew, he said, that in a few weeks these shoes would be wanted for the amusement of skating. At length the last passenger made her appearance, old Mother DECEMBER, with her firestool. The dame was very old, but her eyes glistened like two stars. She carried on her arm a flowerpot, in which a little firtree was growing.

　　"This tree I shall guard and cherish," she said, "that it may grow large by Christmas Eve, and reach from the ground to the ceiling, to be covered and adorned with flaming candles, golden apples, and little figures. The firestool will be as warm as a stove, and I shall then bring a story book out of my pocket, and read aloud till all the children in the room are quite quiet. Then the little figures on the tree will become lively, and the little waxen angel at the top spread out his wings of goldleaf, and fly down from his green perch. He will kiss every one in the room, great and small; yes, even the poor children who stand in the passage, or out in the street singing a carol about the 'Star of Bethlehem.'"

　　"Well, now the coach may drive away," said the sentry; "we have the whole twelve. Let the horses be put up."

　　"First, let all the twelve come to me," said the captain on duty, "one after another. The passports I will keep here. Each of them isavailable for one month; when that has passed, I shall write the behavior of each on his passport. Mr. JANUARY, have the goodness to come here." And Mr. January stepped forward.

　　When a year has passed, I think I shall be able to tell you what the twelve passengers have brought to you, to me, and to all of us. Now I do not know, and probably even they don't know themselves, for we live in strange times.

英文童话故事5

　　Snow-white ate the red side of the apple. When the powder was in her mouth, she fell down dead. The Queen went back to her house. She went into her room. she looked into the glass and said, "Tell me, glass upon the wall, who is most beautiful of all?" The glass said, "The Queen is most beautiful of all." Then the Queen know that Snow-white was dead.

　　The Little Men came back to the hut. When they saw that Snow-white was dead, the poor Little Men cried. Then they put Snow-white in a box made of glass. They took the glass box to a hill and put it there, and said, "Everyone who goes by will see how beautiful she was." Then each Little Man put one white flower on the box, and they went away.

　　Just as they were going away, a Prince came by. He saw the glass box and said, "What is that?" Then he saw Snow-white in the box. He said, "She was very beautiful: but do not put her there. There is a hall in the garden of my father's house. It is all made of white stone. We will take the glass box and put it in the hall of beautiful white stone."

　　白雪公主吃了苹果红的一半,当粉末进入她嘴里时,她倒下去死了。王后回到家,进了自己的房间,对着镜子说:“告诉我,墙上的魔镜,谁是世界上最漂亮的。”魔镜说:“王后是世界上最漂亮的。”于是,王后知道白雪公主已经死了。小矮人们回到小屋,发现白雪公主死了。可怜的`小矮人们全都哭了。然后,他们把白雪公主放进玻璃棺材里,并把它抬到山坡上,安放在那里,说:“每位经过这里的人都会看见她是多么美丽。”接着每个小矮人在棺材上放了一朵白花,然后离开了。

　　他们刚刚要离开,一位王子从此经过,他看着玻璃棺材说:“那是什么?”这时,他发现白雪公主躺在里面,他说:“她太美丽了,不能把她放在这里,在父亲的王宫里有一座大厅,整个大厅都是用白石头砌成,我们把玻璃棺材搬到那所漂亮的白石大厅里。”

英文童话故事6

　　It happened that the cat met Mr. Fox in the woods. She thought, "He is intelligent and well experienced, and is highly regarded in the world," so she spoke to him in a friendly manner, "Good-day, my dear Mr. Fox. How is it going? How are you? How are you getting by in these hard times?"

　　The fox, filled with arrogance, examined the cat from head to feet, and for a long time did not know whether he should give an answer. At last he said, "Oh, you poor beard-licker, you speckled fool, you hungry mouse hunter, what are you thinking? Have you the nerve to ask how I am doing? What do you know? How many tricks do you understand?"

　　"I understand but one," answered the cat, modestly.

　　"What kind of a trick is it?" asked the fox.

　　"When the dogs are chasing me, I can jump into a tree and save myself."

　　"Is that all?" said the fox. "I am master of a hundred tricks, and in addition to that I have a sackful of cunning. I feel sorry for you. Come with me, and I will teach you how one escapes from the dogs."

　　Just then a hunter came by with four dogs. The cat jumped nimbly up a tree, and sat down at its top, where the branches and foliage completely hid her.

　　"Untie your sack, Mr. Fox, untie your sack," the cat shouted to him, but the dogs had already seized him, and were holding him fast.

　　"Oh, Mr. Fox," shouted the cat. "You and your hundred tricks are left in the lurch. If you been able to climb like I can, you would not have lost your life."

　　一只猫在森林里遇到一只狐狸，心想：“他又聪明，经验又丰富，挺受人尊重的。”於是它很友好地和狐狸打招呼：“日安，尊敬的狐狸先生，您好吗?这些日子挺艰难的，您过得怎么样?”

　　狐狸傲慢地将猫从头到脚地打量了一番，半天拿不定主意是不是该和它说话。最后它说：“哦，你这个倒霉的长着鬍子、满身花纹的'傻瓜、饥肠辘辘地追赶老鼠的傢伙，你会啥?有甚么资格问我过得怎么样?你都学了点甚么本事?”

　　“我只有一种本领。”猫谦虚地说。

　　“甚么本领?”狐狸问。

　　“有人追我的时候，我会爬到树上去藏起来保护自己。”

　　“就这本事?”狐狸不屑地说，“我掌握了上百种本领，而且还有满口袋计谋。我真觉得你可怜，跟着我吧，我教你怎么从追捕中逃生。”

　　就在这时，猎人带着四条狗走近了。猫敏捷地窜到一棵树上，在树顶上蹲伏下来，茂密的树叶把它遮挡得严严实实。

　　“快打开你的计谋口袋，狐狸先生，快打开呀!”猫冲着狐狸喊道。可是猎狗已经将狐狸扑倒咬住了。“哎呀，狐狸先生，”猫喊道，“你的千百种本领就这么给扔掉了!假如你能像我一样爬树就不至於丢了性命了!”

英文童话故事7

　　There is a small cat in the forest, who loves to eat only the same thing - snack. The cat is getting thinner and thinner, and it seems like a gust of wind to scrape him away. All the children don't play with him, because he is too thin, a bit of a run on the sick, the wind fell down, and the kids are misunderstanding.

　　One day, a strong wind came and the cat was blown away. He was scraped to a gourmet restaurant. The waiter saw him lean and let him eat a red braised fish. It was really delicious. The cat had eaten the whole fish. He had never eaten that much. Suddenly, there was a gust of wind, and the kitten returned home. The kitten assured her mother, from now on, never to eat any snacks, and the mother of the cat was gratified.

　　The kittens no longer eat snacks, slowly fat, and the children are willing to play with the kittens.

英文童话故事8

　　Two madmen were talking in the mental hospital, and one said, "I have decided to give my sister to you in marriage once we are out of here."

　　The other man said, "No, thank you. It cannot be so."

　　He asked, "Why？" The man answered , "Because,according to our family tradition only relatives get married. We cannot marry an outsider."

　　The other man asked, "How come there is such a family custom？" He said, "You see, my grandmother married my grandfather. My mother married my father, my sister married my brother—in—law, and so on. How can I marry your sister？"

英文童话故事9

　　King mountain is a monster, and he likes to eat little animals. In winter, the king of the mountain went to hunt with a slingshot on his back. He didn't hit an animal.

　　The king saw a small fish in the lake, for the other big fish were eaten by the king of the mountain. The king of the mountain saw a little bird in the woods. "Come on, he's too small to eat him." The king returned home and felt the half of the bread in his pocket. The king of the mountain cried, "how poor I am, hungry, cold, and lonely." The little bird flew in through the hole in the window. The little bird also cried, "I'm hungry, I'm cold, and I'm lonely, too." "Don't cry," said the king. "Let's eat these bread crumbs." The little bird took the crumbs and flew out. The king of the mountain felt strange and went out: "where will the little bird go?" the little bird threw the crumbs into the water. "The little bird was the little fish that left the crumbs to the lake." The king of the mountain ran home and held a big basin. He put the little fish into the bowl and ran home. The king of the mountain said, "will you spend the winter with me in my broken house, will you?" the little bird and the little fish said, "yes."

　　The king of the mountain began to bake bread. He thought, "from then on, I'd like to eat bread with little birds and little fish." The king no longer eats small animals, and he is no longer alone.

　　山大王是个怪物，最喜欢吃小动物。 冬天，山大王又背上弹弓去打猎。他一只动物也没打到。

　　山大王看见湖里有一条小鱼，因为别的大鱼都被山大王吃光了。山大王又看见树林里有一只小小鸟。 “算了，他太小，不吃他了吧。”山大王回到家里，摸出口袋里的半个面包。山大王哭了起来：“我多么可怜，又饿、又冷、又孤单。” 小小鸟从窗户的破洞里飞了进来。小小鸟也哭着：“我也饿，我也冷，我也孤单。”山大王说：“别哭了，这些面包屑给你吃吧。” 小小鸟衔起面包屑，飞了出去。山大王觉得奇怪，跟了出去：“小小鸟要去哪里呢?”小小鸟把面包屑丢进水里去。 山大王这才明白：“原来，小小鸟是把面包屑留给湖里的.小小鱼呀。”山大王跑回家，捧来一只大盆。他把小小鱼接进盆里，跑回家去。 山大王说：“请你们在我的破屋里，和我一起过冬天，行吗?小小鸟和小小鱼都说：“行。”

　　山大王开始烤面包。他想：“从此以后，我要和小小鸟、小小鱼一起吃面包。”山大王再也不吃小动物了，他也不再感到孤单了。

英文童话故事10

　　An old woman had a cat. The cat was very old；she could not run quickly，and she could not bite，because she was so old. One day the old cat saw a mouse；she jumped and caught the mouse. But she could not bite it；so the mouse got out of her mouth and ran away，because the cat could not bite it.

　　Then the old woman became very angry because the cat had not killed the mouse. She began to hit the cat. The cat said，"Do not hit your old servant. I have worked for you for many years，and I would work for you still，but I am too old. Do not be unkind to the old，but remember what good work the old did when they were young.

英文童话故事11

　　Once there was a boy who lived on a farm. Every day he had to take his father’s sheep to a hill. One day he tried to play a trick on the other people. He said to himself. I will call “wolf. wolf.” then everyone come to help me. It will be fun when they find out there is no wolf after all. So he cried: “wolf .wolf.” and everyone ran to help him. When they came he just said: “there is no wolf. It was only a joke.” He did this three times.

　　Then one day a wolf really came. “Help! Help! The wolf is here.” called the boy. But everyone said: “No you know that there is no wolf. He is just calling us for fun. There is no danger.” So they did not go to help the boy. The wolf killed all the sheep then.

英文童话故事12

　　Once upon a time a psychology professor walked around on a stage while teaching stress management principles to an auditorium filled with students.

　　As she raised a glass of water, with a smile on her face, the professor asked, “How heavy is this glass of water I’m holding?”

　　Students shouted out answers ranging from eight ounces to a couple pounds.

　　She replied, “From my perspective, the absolute weight of this glass doesn’t matter. In each case, the weight of the glass doesn’t change, but the longer I hold it, the heavier it feels to me.”

　　As the class shook their heads in agreement, she continued, “Your stresses and worries in life are very much like this glass of water.”

　　It’s important to remember to let go of your stresses and worries. No matter what happens during the day, as early in the evening as you can, put all your burdens down.

英文童话故事13

　　公鸡和宝玉

　　a cock in the field for themselves and hens are in search of food. he found a piece of gem, it is baoyu said: “if it were not, but found the owner, he would very much treasure to bring up to; but found it useless. its all baoyu world, we might as well be a wheat good stars. ”

　　it is said that he is the real thing to be precious

　　一只公鸡在田野里为自己和母鸡们寻找食物。他发现了一块宝玉，便对宝玉说：“若不是，而是的.主人找到了，他会非常珍惜地把捡起来；但发现了却毫无用处。与其得到世界上一切宝玉，倒不如得到一颗麦子好。”

　　这是说自己需的东西才是真正珍贵的。

英文童话故事14

　　1.英文童话故事：老人和老猫

　　An old man has a cat. The cat is very old, too. He runs very quickly. And his teeth are bad. One evening, the old cat sees a little mouse. He catches it, but he can’t eat it because his teeth are not strong enough. The mouse runs away.

　　The old man is very angry. He beats his cat. He says: “You are a fool cat. I will punish you!” the cat is very sad. He thinks：“When I was young, I worked hard for you. Now you don’t like me because I’m too old to work. You should know you are old, too.”

　　2.英文童话故事：找朋友

　　Sam is a little fish. He lives in the sea. He is very lonely. He wants to have a friend. The friend looks like him. Sam sees an ink fish. The ink fish has eight legs. He doesn’t look like Sam. So Sam goes away. Sam meets a shark. He wants to say hello to the shark. The shark opens his big mouth. Sam runs away quickly. Sam is tired and hungry. He wants to have a rest. Then he sees a round fish. She says to him. “Hello! Would you like to be my friend?” Sam answers: “Of course! But you are sound. I am flat.” The round fish days: “But we are both fishes.”

　　Sam thinks and says, “You are right. Let’s be friends.” They become good friends.

　　3.英文童话故事：聪明的'兔子

　　The wolf and the fox want to eat the rabbit, but it wasn't easy to catch him.

　　One day the wolf says to the fox, "You go home and lie1 in bed. I'll tell the rabbit that you are dead2. When he comes to look at you, you can jump up and catch him." That's a good idea," says the fox.

　　The fox goes home at once. The wolf goes to the rabbit's house and knocked3 at the door. "Who is it?" asks the rabbit. "It's the wolf. I come to tell you that the fox is dead." Then the wolf goes away.

　　The rabbit goes to the fox's house. He looked in through the window and sees the foxlying4 in bed with his eyes closed5. He thinks, "Is the fox really dead or is hepretending6 to be dead? If he's not dead, he'll catch me when I go near him." so hesaid7, "The wolf says that the fox is dead. But he doesn't look like a dead fox. The mouth of a dead fox is always open." When the fox hears this, he thinks, "I'll show him that I'm dead." So he opened his mouth.

　　The rabbit knows that the fox isn't dead, and he rans away quickly.

　　4.英文童话故事：诺巴斯的葡萄园

　　Once upon a time, there was a man named Naboth, who had a very nice vineyard. Heinherited1 the vineyard from his father, he got a lot of money from it.

　　One day the king passed by the vineyard, he found the yard was so beautiful that he wanted to have it. So he went to Naboth and asked, "Would you sell the whole vineyard to me? I can pay you some money." "I'm very sorry. It is a heritage2 of my family, I can't give it to you at any price," said Naboth. The king told her the story. The queen said, "You forget you are the king! Let me teach you how get it. You can make Naboth an office, then find an excuse and sentence him to death." The king did what the queen said, Naboth died and the king got the vineyard.

　　When God learned3 about this, he was very angry and said, "The king must be eaten by dogs, and the queen must be eaten by big birds. They are not good people, they take the things which are not theirs." At last, people found the king and the queen were dead when they went out for a picenic.

　　5.英文童话故事：我的家

　　I am in desperate need of help -- or Ill go crazy. Were living in a single room -- my wife, my children and my in-laws. So our nerves are on edge, we yell and scream at one another. The room is a hell.

　　Do you promise to do whatever I tell you? said the Master gravely.

　　I swear I shall do anything.

　　Very well. How many animals do you have?

　　A cow, a goat and six chickens.

　　Take them all into the room with you. Then come back after a week.

　　The disciple was appalled. But he had promised to obey! So he took the animals in. A week later he came back, a pitiable figure, moaning, Im a nervous wreck. The dirt! The stench! The noise! Were all on the verge of madness!

　　Go back,said the Master, and put the animals out.

　　The man ran all the way home. And came back the following day, his eyes sparkling with joy. How sweet life is! The animals are out. The home is a Paradise, so quiet and clean and roomy!

英文童话故事15

　　There were three of them. There were four of us, and April lay on the campsite and on the river, a mixture of dawn at a damp extreme and the sun in the leaves at cajole. This was Deer Lodge1on the Pine River in Ossipee, New Hampshire, though the lodge was naught2 but a foundation remnant in the earth. Brother Bentley's father, Oren, had found this place sometime after the First World War, a foreign affair that had seriously done him no good but he found solitude3abounding4 here. Now we were here, post World War II, post Korean War, Vietnam War on thebrink5. So much learned, so much yet to learn.

　　Peace then was everywhere about us, in the riot of young leaves, in the spree of bird confusion and chatter6, in the struggle of pre-dawn animals for the start of a new day, a CooperHawk7 that had smashed down through trees for a squealing8 rabbit, yap of a fox at a youngster, a skunk9 at rooting.

　　We had pitched camp in the near darkness, Ed LeBlanc, Brother Bentley, Walter Ruszkowski, myself. A dozen or more years we had been here, and seen no one. Now, into our campsite deep in the forest, so deep that at times we had to rebuild sections of narrow road (more a logger's path) flushed out by earlier rains, deep enough where we thought we'd again have no traffic, came a growling10 engine, an old solid body van, a Chevy, the kind I had driven for Frankie Pike and the Lobster11 Pound in Lynn delivering lobsters12 throughout the Merrimack Valley. It had pre-WW II high fenders, a faded black paint on a body you'd swear had been hammered out of corrugated13 steel, and an engine that made sounds too angry and too early for the start of day. Two elderly men, we supposed in their seventies, sat the front seat; felt hats at the slouch and decorated with an assortment14 of tied flies like a miniature bandoleer ofammunition15 on the band. They could have been conscripts for Emilano Zappata, so loaded their hats and their vests as they climbed out of the truck.

　　"Mornin', been yet?" one of them said as he pulled his boots up from the folds at his knees, the tops of them as wide as a big mouth bass16 coming up from the bottom for a frog sitting on a lily pad. His hands were large, the fingers long and I could picture them in a shop barn working aprimal17 plane across the face of a maple18 board. Custom-made, old elegance19, those hands said.

　　"Barely had coffee," Ed LeBlanc said, the most vocal1 of the four of us, quickest at friendship, at shaking hands. "We've got a whole pot almost. Have what you want." The pot was pointed2out sitting on a hunk of grill3 across the stones of our fire, flames licking lightly at its sides. The pot appeared as if it had been at war, a number of dents4 scarred it, the handle had evidently been replaced, and if not adjusted against a small rock it would have fallen over for sure. Once, a half-hour on the road heading north, noting it missing, we'd gone back to get it. When we fished the Pine River, coffee was the glue, the morning glue, the late evening glue, even though we'd often unearth5 our beer from a natural cooler in early evening. Coffee, camp coffee, has a ritual. It is thick, it is dark, it is potboiled over a squaw-pine fire, it is strong, it is enough to wake the demon6 in you, stoke last evening's cheese and pepperoni. First man up makes the fire, second man the coffee; but into that pot has to go fresh eggshells to hold the grounds down, give coffee a taste of history, a sense of place. That means at least one egg be cracked open for its shells, usually in the shadows and glimmers7 of false dawn. I suspect that's where "scrambled8 eggs" originated, from some camp like ours, settlers rushing west, lumberjacks hungry, hoboes lobbying for breakfast. So, camp coffee has made its way into poems, gatherings9, memories, a time and thing not letting go, not being manhandled, not being cast aside.

　　"You're early enough for eggs and bacon if you need a start." Eddie added, his invitation tossedkindly10 into the morning air, his smile a match for morning sun, a man of welcomes. "We have hot cakes, kulbassa, home fries, if you want." We have the food of kings if you really want to know. There were nights we sat at his kitchen table at 101 Main Street, Saugus, Massachusetts planning the trip, planning each meal, planning the campsite. Some menus were founded on a case of beer, a late night, a curse or two on the ride to work when day started.

　　"Been there a'ready," the other man said, his weaponry also noted11 by us, a little more orderly in its presentation, including an old Boy Scout12 sash across his chest, the galaxy13of flies in supreme14 positioning. They were old Yankees, in the face and frame the pair of them undoubtedly15 brothers, staunch, written into early routines, probably had been up at three o'clock to get here at this hour. They were taller than we were, no fat on their frames, wide-shouldered, big-handed, barely coming out of their reserve, but fishermen. That fact alone would win any of us over. Obviously, they'd been around, a heft of time already accrued16.

　　Then the pounding came, from inside the truck, as if a tire iron was beating at the sides of the vehicle. It was not a timid banging, not a minor1 signal. Bang! Bang! it came, and Bang! again. And the voice of authority from some place in space, some regal spot in the universe. "I'm not sitting here the livelong day whilst you boys gab2 away." A toothless meshing3 came in his words, like Walter Brennan at work in the jail in Rio Bravo or some such movie.

　　"Comin', pa," one of them said, the most orderly one, the one with the old scout4 sash riding him like a bandoleer.

　　They pulled open the back doors of the van, swung them wide, to show His Venerable Self, ageless, white-bearded, felt hat too loaded with an arsenal5 of flies, sitting on a white wicker rocker with a rope holding him to a piece of vertical6 angle iron, the crude kind that could have been on early subways or trolley7 cars. Across his lap he held three delicate fly rods, old as him, thin, bamboo in color, probably too slight for a lake's three-pounder. But on the Pine River, upstream or downstream, under alders8 choking some parts of the river's flow, at a significant pool where side streams merge9 and phantom10 trout11 hang out their eternal promise, most elegant, fingertip elegant.

　　"Oh, boy," Eddie said at an aside, "there's the boss man, and look at those tools."Admiration12 leaked from his voice.

　　Rods were taken from the caring hands, the rope untied13, and His Venerable Self, white wicker rocker and all, was lifted from the truck and set by our campfire. I was willing to bet that my sister Pat, the dealer14 in antiques, would scoop15 up that rocker if given the slightest chance. The old one looked about the campsite, noted17 clothes drying from a previous day's rain, order of equipment and supplies aligned18 the way we always kept them, the canvas of our tent taut19 and true in its expanse, our fishing rods off the ground and placed atop the flyleaf so as not to tempt20 raccoons with smelly cork21 handles, no garbage in sight. He nodded.

　　We had passed muster22.

　　"You the ones leave it cleaner than you find it ever' year. We knowed sunthin' 'bout16 you. Never disturbed you afore. But we share the good spots." He looked closely at Brother Bentley, nodded a kind of recognition. "Your daddy ever fish here, son?"

　　Brother must have passed through the years in a hurry, remembering his father bringing him here as a boy. "A ways back," Brother said in his clipped North Saugus fashion, outlander, specific, no waste in his words. Old Oren Bentley, it had been told us, had walked five miles through the unknown woods off Route 16 as a boy and had come across the campsite, the remnants of an old lodge1, and a great curve in the Pine River so that a mile's walk in either direction gave you three miles of stream to fish, upstream or downstream. Paradise up north.

　　His Venerable Self nodded again, a man of signals, then said, "Knowed him way back some. Met him at the Iron Bridge. We passed a few times." Instantly we could see the story. A whole history of encounter was in his words; it marched right through us the way knowledge does, as well as legend. He pointed2 at the coffeepot. "The boys'll be off, but my days down there get cut up some. I'll sit a while and take some of thet." He said thet too pronounced, too dramatic, and it was a short time before I knew why.

　　The white wicker rocker went into a slow and deliberate motion, his head nodded again. Hespoke3 to his sons. "You boys be back no more'n two-three hours so these fellers can do their things too, and keep the place tidied up."

　　The most orderly son said, "Sure, pa. Two-three hours." The two elderly sons left the campsite and walked down the path to the banks of the Pine River, their boots swishing at thigh4 line, the most elegant rods pointing the way through scattered5 limbs, experience on the move.Trout6 beware, we thought.

　　"We been carpenters f'ever," he said, the clip still in his words. "Those boys a mine been some good at it too." His head cocked, he seemed to listen for their departure, the leaves and branches quiet, the murmur7 of the stream a tinkling8 idyllic9 music rising up the banking10. Old Venerable Himself moved the wicker rocker forward and back, a small timing11 taking place. He was hearing things we had not heard yet, the whole symphony all around us. Eddie looked at me and nodded his own nod. It said, "I'm paying attention and I know you are. This is our one encounter with a man who has fished for years the river we love, that we come to twice a year, in May with the mayflies, in June with the black flies." The gift and the scourge12, we'd often remember, having been both scarred and sewn by it.

　　Brother was still at memory, we could tell. Silence we thought was heavy about us, but there was so much going on. A bird talked to us from a high limb1. A fox called to her young. We were on the Pine River once again, nearly a hundred miles from home, in Paradise2.

　　"Name's Roger Treadwell. Boys are Nathan and Truett." The introductions had been accounted for.

　　Old Venerable Roger Treadwell, carpenter, fly fisherman, rocker, leaned forward and said, "You boys wouldn't have a couple spare beers, would ya?"

　　Now that's the way to start the day on the Pine River.

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