TheSilverShilling一枚银毫There was once a shilling; it came out bright and shiny from the mint, and sprang up, shouting, Hurrah! Now Im going out into the wide world! And into the wide world he went. The child held it with soft, tender hands; the miser clutched it with cold, clammy fingers; the old man turned it over many times before letting it go; while the youth immediately passed it along. The Shilling was of silver, with very little copper in it; already it had been in the world for a whole year now-that is, in the country where it was made. But one day it started to travel to foreign lands; it was the last native coin in the purse that the traveling gentleman had with him. He himself didnt know he had this coin until it happened to come between his fingers.Why, heres a shilling from home I still have, he said. It can make the trip with me.And the Shilling rattled and jumped for joy as it was put back into the purse. So here it lay among foreign companions, who came and went, each making a place for the next one. Only the Shilling from home always stayed in the purse, which was a mark of distinction.Several weeks passed, and the Shilling was far out in the world, without knowing exactly where it was, although it did hear that the other coins were French or Italian. One said they were in a certain town, another reported that they had reached another place, but the Shilling hadnt any idea about it. Anyone who keeps his head in a bag cant see a thing; and that was the case with the Shilling.But as it lay there one day it noticed that the purse was not completely shut, so it sneaked forward to the opening to take a peek. It shouldnt have done that, but it was full of curiosity, and people often have to pay for that. It slipped out into the trouser pocket, and when the purse was taken out that night the Shilling remained behind and was taken with the clothes to the hall closet. There it dropped on the floor; no one heard it, and no one saw it.Next morning the clothes were returned to the room; the gentleman put them on, and started on his journey again, but the Shilling was left behind. It was found, required to do service again, and was sent out with three other coins.Its an interesting thing to look about you in the world, thought the Shilling, and to get to know different people and customs.What kind of coin is that? said someone at that very moment. Thats not a genuine coin! Its a fake! Its no good!Yes, now began the real history of the Shilling, as told by itself. False! No good! Those words really hurt me, said the Shilling. I knew I was made of good silver, had a good ring and a genuine stamp on me. People were certainly mistaken; they couldnt mean me! But they did mean me; I was the one they called false and no good! I must get rid of that fellow in the dark! said the man I belonged to. So I was passed on at night, and then again chided in broad daylight. False-no good! We must hurry up and get rid of it! And the Shilling trembled in its masters fingers each time it was to be passed on as a native coin.What a wretched shilling I am! What good is my silver to me, or my value, or my stamp, if all these things are considered worthless? The world gives you only such value as it chooses. It must be really dreadful to have a bad conscience, and to sneak about in the path of evil, if I, who am quite innocent, can feel so wretched just because I have my looks against me!Each time they brought me out I shuddered at the thought of the eyes that would glare at me, because I knew I would be rejected and flung back on the counter like a liar and a fraud.One time I came into the hands of a poor old woman, who received me as wages for a hard days toil and labor, and she couldnt get rid of me at all. Nobody would accept me, and I was a real worry to the old woman. I shall certainly have to fool somebody with this shilling, she said, for I cant afford to keep a false shilling. Ill pass him on to the rich baker; hell be able to stand the loss better than I can; but still it is an injustice I will be doing.What a weight I must be on that womans conscience, too, sighed the Shilling. Am I really changed so much in my old age? And the woman went to the rich baker, but he knew the current shillings too well to accept me; I was thrown back in the womans face, and she got no bread for me. And I felt grieved that I should be the cause of trouble to others-I, who in my young days had been so proud of my value and the soundness of my coinage. I was as melancholy as a poor shilling can be whom no one will accept; but the woman took me home, looked at me earnestly, with kindly, friendly eyes, and said, No, I wont deceive anyone with you. Ill bore a hole through you, so everyone can see youre false. And yet-a thought just occurs to me-perhaps you are a lucky shilling; yes, I believe you are; I have such a strong feeling about it! Ill make a