BESIDE the lordly manor－house lay a lovely,well－kept garden with rare trees and flowers;the guests of thehouse expressed their admiration of it;the people of thedistrict,from town and country,came on Sundays and hol－idays and begged permission to see the garden,even wholeschools came to visit it. Outside the garden,close to the palings beside thefield path,stood a huge thistle;it was very big and spreadfrom the root in several branches,so that it might be calleda thistle-bush.No one looked at it except the old ass whichdrew the milk－cart.It stretched out its neck to the thistle,and said,"You are lovely!I could eat you!"but the halterwas not long enough for the ass to get near enough to eat it. There was a great deal of company at the manor－house—some very noble people from the capital,youngpretty girls,and amongst them a young lady who came froma distance;she came from Scotland,was of high birth,rich in lands and gold,a bride worth winning,more thanone young gentleman said,and their mothers said the samething. The young people amused themselves on the lawn andplayed croquet:they walked about amongst the flowers,and each of the young girls picked a flower and put it inthe button－hole of one of the young gentlemen.But theyoung Scottish lady looked round for a long time,rejectingone after the other;none of the flowers seemed to pleaseher;then she looked over the paling,outside stood thegreat thistle－bush with its strong,purple flowers;she sawit,she smiled and begged the son of the house to pick oneof them for her. "It is the flower of Scotland,"said she,"it blooms inthe Scutcheon of the country,give it to me!" And he brought her the most beautiful of the thistles,and pricked his fingers,as if it were the most prickly rose-bush that it grew on.
She fastened the thistle－flower in the button－hole ofthe young man,and he felt himself highly honoured.Each of the other young men would willingly have givenhis own beautiful flower to have worn the one given by theScottish girl's fair hand.And if the son of the house felthimself honoured,what did not the thistle-bush feel?Itseemed as if the dew and the sunshine were goingthrough it. "I am something more than I thought!"it said to it－self."I really belong inside the paling and not outside!Oneis strangely placed in the world!but now I have one ofmine over the paling,and even in a button-hole!" Every bud which came forth and unfolded was toldof this event,and not many days went past before thethistle－bush heard,not from people,nor from the twit－tering of the birds,but from the air itself,which pre－serves and carries sound,from the most retired walks ofthe garden and the rooms of the house,where the doorsand windows stood open,that the young gentleman whogot the thistle－flower from the fair Scottish girl's hand,had now got her hand and heart as well.They were ahandsome pair—it was a good match. "I have brought that about!"thought the thistle－bush,and thought of the flower it had given for a but－ton－hole.Each flower that opened heard of this occur-rence. "I shall certainly be planted in the garden!"thought the thistle;"perhaps put in a pot which pinch－es:that is the greatest honour of all!" And the thistle thought of this so strongly that itsaid with full conviction,"I shall be put in a pot!" It promised every little thistle－flower which openedthat it also should be put in a pot,perhaps in a button-hole—the highest honour that was to be attained;butnone of them was put in a pot to say nothing of a but-ton-hole;they drank in the air and the light,lickedthe sunshine by day and the dew by night,bloomed,were visited by bees and hornets which searched for thedowry,the honey in the flowers,and they took thehoney and left the flower standing. "The thieving pack!"said the thistle,"if I couldonly stab them!But I cannot!"
The flowers hung their heads and faded,but new onescame again. "You come in good time!"said the thistle,"everyminute I expect to get across the fence." A few innocent daisies and narrow-leaved plantainsstood and listened with deep admiration,and believedeverything that was said. The old ass of the milk－cart looked along from thewayside to the thistle-bush,but the halter was too short toreach it. And the thistle thought so long of the Scottish thistleto whose family it thought it belonged,that at last it be－lieved it came from Scotland and that its parents had beenput into the national scutcheon.It was a great thought,butgreat thistles can have great thoughts! "One is often of such a noble family,that one darenot know it!"said the nettle,which grew close by;it alsohad an idea that it might turn into nettle－cloth if it wereproperly handled. And the summer passed and the autumn passed;theleaves fell off the trees,the flowers got strong colours andless scent.The gardener's apprentice sang in the garden,across the fence: "Up the hill and down the hill, That is all the story still." The young fir－trees in the wood began to long forChristmas,but it was a long time to Christmas. "Here I stand still!"said the thistle."It seems as ifno one thought about me,and yet I have made the match; they were betrothed,and they held their wedding eightdays ago.I won't take a step,for I cannot." Some more weeks went past;the thistle stood with itslast single flower,big and full,it had shot up close by theroot.The wind blew cold over it,the coloure went,thesplendour vanished,the calyx of the flower,big as that ofan artichoke bloom,looked like a silver sunflower.Thenthe young couple,now man and wife,came into the gar- den;they went along by the paling,and the young wifelooked across it. "There stands the big thistle yet,"said she;"now ithas no more flowers!" "Yes,there is the ghost of the last one!"said he, and pointed to the silvery remains of the flower,itself aflower.
"It is lovely!"said she,"such a one must be carvedround about the frame of our picture!" And the young man had to climb the paling again tobreak off the calyx of the thistle.It pricked him in thefingers,—he had called it a"ghost".And it came intothe garden,into the house,and into the drawing－room;there stood a picture—"the young couple".In the bride－groom's button－hole was painted a thistle.They talkedabout this and about thistle－flower they brought,thelast thistle－flower now gleaming like silver,a copy ofwhich was to be carved on the frame. And the carried what was said,away,far away. "What one can experience!"said the thistle－bush."My firstborn was put in a button－hole,my last in aframe!Where shall I go?" And the ass stood by the road－side and looked longat the thistle. "Come to me,my kitchen－love!I cannot come toyou,the halter is not long enough!" But the thistle did not answer;it became more andmore thoughtful;it thought,and it thought,right up toChristmas-time,and then the thought came into flower:"If one's children have got inside,a mother can be con－tent to stand outside the fence!" "That is an honourable thought!"said the sunbeam."You shall also get a good place!" "In a pot or in a frame?"asked the thistle. "In a story!"said the sunbeam.And here it is!
蓟的遭遇
在一幢华贵的公馆旁边有一个美丽整齐的花园，里面有许多珍贵的树木和花草。公馆里的客人们对于这些东西都表示羡慕。附近城里和乡下的村民在星期日和节日都特地来要求参观这个花园。甚至于所有的学校也都来参观。
在花园外面，在一条田野小径旁的栅栏附近，长着一棵很大的蓟。它的根还分出许多枝桠来，因此它可以说是一个蓟丛。除了一只拖牛奶车的老驴子以外，谁也不理它。驴子把脖子伸向蓟这边来，说：“你真可爱！我几乎想吃掉你！”但是它的缰绳不够长，没法吃到。
公馆里的客人很多——有从京城里来的高贵的客人，有年轻漂亮的小姐。在这些人之中有一个来自远方的姑娘。她是从苏格兰来的，出身很高贵，拥有许多田地和金钱。她是一个值得争取的新嫁娘——不止一个年轻人说这样的话，许多母亲们也这样说过。
年轻人在草坪上玩耍和打“槌球”。他们在花园中间散步。每位小姐摘下一朵花，插在年轻绅士的扣眼上。不过这位苏格兰来的小姐向四周瞧了很久，这一朵也看不起，那一朵也看不起。似乎没有一朵花可以讨到她的欢心。她只好掉头向栅栏外面望。那儿有一个开着大朵紫花的蓟丛。她看见了它，她微笑了一下，她要求这家的少爷为她摘下一朵这样的花来。
“这是苏格兰之花！”她说。“她在苏格兰的国徽上射出光辉，请把它摘给我吧！”
他摘下最美丽的一朵，他还拿它刺刺自己的手指，好像它是长在一棵多刺的玫瑰花丛上的花似的。
她把这朵蓟花插在这位年轻人的扣眼里。他觉得非常光荣。别的年轻人都愿意放弃自己美丽的花，而想戴上这位苏格兰小姐的美丽的小手所插上的那朵花。假如这家的少爷感到很光荣，难道这个蓟丛就感觉不到吗？它感到好像有露珠和阳光渗进了它身体里似的。
“我没有想到我是这样重要！”它在心里想。“我的地位应该是在栅栏里面，而不是在栅栏外面。一个人在这个世界里常常是处在一个很奇怪的位置上的！不过我现在却有一朵花越过了栅栏，而且还插在扣眼里哩！”
它把这件事情对每个冒出的和开了的花苞都讲了一遍。过了没有多少天，它听到一个重要消息。它不是从路过的人那里听来的，也不是从鸟儿的叫声中听来的，而是从空气中听来的，因为空气收集声音——花园里荫深小径上的声音，公馆里最深的房间里的声音（只要门和窗户是开着的）——然后把它们播送到远近的地方去。它听说，那位从苏格兰小姐的手中得到一朵蓟花的年轻绅士，不仅得到了她的爱情，还赢得了她的心。这是漂亮的一对——一门好亲事。
“这完全是由我促成的！”蓟丛想，同时也想起那朵由它贡献出的、插在扣子洞上的花。每朵开出的花苞都听见了这个消息。
“我一定会被移植到花园里去的！”蓟想。“可能还被移植到一个缩手缩脚的花盆里去呢：这是最高的光荣！”
蓟对于这件事情想得非常殷切，因此它满怀信心地说：“我一定会被移植到花盆里去的！”
它答应每一朵开放了的花苞，说它们也会被移植进花盆里，也许被插进扣子洞里：这是一个人所能达到的最高的光荣，不过谁也没有到花盆里去，当然更不用说插上扣子洞了。它们饮着空气和阳光，白天吸收阳光，晚间喝露水。它们开出花朵；蜜蜂和大黄蜂来拜访它们，因为它们在到处寻找嫁妆——花蜜。它们采走了花蜜，剩下的只有花朵。
“这一群贼东西！”蓟说，“我希望我能刺到它们！但是我不能！”
花儿都垂下头，凋谢了。但是新的花儿又开出来了。
“你们来得正好！”蓟说。“每一分钟我都等着走过栅栏。”
几棵天真的雏菊和尖叶子的车前草怀着非常羡慕的心情在旁边静听。它们都相信它所讲的每一句话。
套在牛奶车子上的那只老驴子从路旁朝蓟丛望着。但是它的缰绳太短，可望而不可即。
这棵蓟老是在想苏格兰的蓟，因为它以为它也是属于这一家族的。最后它就真的相信它是从苏格兰来的，相信它的祖先曾经被绘在苏格兰的国徽上。这是一种伟大的想法；只有伟大的蓟才能有这样伟大的思想。
“有时一个人出身于这么一个高贵的家族，弄得它连想都不敢想一下！”旁边长着的一棵荨麻说。它也有一个想法，认为如果人们把它运用得当，它可以变成“麻布”。
于是夏天过去了，秋天也过去了。树上的叶子落掉了；花儿染上了更深的颜色，但是却失去了很多的香气。园丁的学徒在花园里朝着栅栏外面唱：
爬上了山又下山， 世事仍然没有变！
树林里年轻的枞树开始盼望圣诞节的到来，但是现在离圣诞节还远得很。
“我仍然呆在这儿！”蓟想。“世界上似乎没有一个人想到我，但是我却促成他们结为夫妇。他们订了婚，而且八天以前就结了婚，是的，我动也没有动一下，因为我动不了。”
又有几个星期过去了。蓟只剩下最后的一朵花。这朵花又圆又大，是从根子那儿开出来的。冷风在它身上吹，它的颜色退了，美也没有了：它的花萼有朝鲜蓟那么粗，看起来像一朵银色的向日葵。这时那年轻的一对——丈夫和妻子——到这花园里来了。他们沿着栅栏走，年轻的妻子朝外面望。
“那棵大蓟还在那儿！”她说；“它现在已经没有什么花了！”
“还有，还剩下最后一朵花的幽灵！”他说，同时指着那朵花儿的银色的残骸——它本身就是一朵花。
“它很可爱！”她说。“我们要在我们画像的框子上刻出这样一朵花！”
它叫做“幽灵”。花萼被带进花园，带进屋子，带进客厅——这对“年轻夫妇”的画像就挂在这儿。新郎的扣子洞上画着一朵蓟花。他们谈论着这朵花，也谈论着他们现在带进来的这朵花萼——他们将要刻在像框子上的、这朵亮得像银子一般的最后的蓟花。
轻风把他们所讲的话传播出去——传到很远的地方去。
“一个人的遭遇真想不到！”蓟丛说。“我的头一个孩子被插在扣子洞上，我的最后的一个孩子被刻在像框上！我自己到什么地方去呢？”
站在路旁的那只驴子斜着眼睛望了它一下。
“亲爱的，到我这儿来吧！我不能走到你跟前去，我的绳子不够长！”
但是蓟却不回答。它变得更沉思起来。它想了又想，一直想到圣诞节。最后它的思想开出了这样一朵花：
“只要孩子走进里面去了，妈妈站在栅栏外面也应该满足了！”
“这是一个可敬的想法！”阳光说。“你也应该得到一个好的位置！”
“在花盆里呢？还是在像框上呢？”蓟问。
“在一个童话里！”阳光说。
这就是那个童话！
这篇小故事最初发表在纽约出版的《青少年河边杂志》1869年10月号上，接着又在当年12月17日丹麦出版的《三篇新的童话和故事集》里印出了。安徒生在日记中写道：“我写这篇故事的唯一理由是，我在巴斯纳斯庄园附近的田野上见到了这样一棵完美无缺的蓟。我别无选择，只好把它写成一个故事。”这是一篇很有风趣的故事。固然蓟找出理由安慰自己，但也无意中道出了一颗母亲的心：“只要孩子走进里面去，妈妈站在栅栏外面也应该满足了。”
