第2部分

"She has been accustomed to that," her mother said. "She is abeauty, and they are always easily tired. She does sleep ratherlate; but that makes her eyes so clear."

What power seemed to lie in the depths of those dark eyes! Theyoung man felt the truth of the proverb, "Still waters run deep:"and his heart had sunk into their depths. He often talked of hisadventures, and the mamma was as simple and eager in her questionsas on the first evening they met. It was a pleasure to hear Alfreddescribe anything. He showed them colored plates of Naples, andspoke of excursions to Mount Vesuvius, and the eruptions of firefrom it. The naval officer's widow had never heard of them before.

"Good heavens!" she exclaimed. "So that is a burning mountain; butis it not very dangerous to the people who live near it?"

"Whole cities have been destroyed," he replied; "for instance,Herculaneum and Pompeii."

"Oh, the poor people! And you saw all that with your own eyes?"

"No; I did not see any of the eruptions which are represented inthose pictures; but I will show you a sketch of my own, whichrepresents an eruption I once saw."

He placed a pencil sketch on the table; and mamma, who had beenover-powered with the appearance of the colored plates, threw a glanceat the pale drawing and cried in astonishment, "What, did you see itthrow up white fire?"

For a moment, Alfred's respect for Kaela's mamma underwent asudden shock, and lessened considerably; but, dazzled by the lightwhich surrounded Kaela, he soon found it quite natural that the oldlady should have no eye for color. After all, it was of very littleconsequence; for Kaela's mamma had the best of all possessions;namely, Kaela herself.

Alfred and Kaela were betrothed, which was a very naturalresult; and the betrothal was announced in the newspaper of the littletown. Mama purchased thirty copies of the paper, that she might cutout the paragraph and send it to friends and acquaintances. Thebetrothed pair were very happy, and the mother was happy too. She saidit seemed like connecting herself with Thorwalsden.

"You are a true successor of Thorwalsden," she said to Alfred; andit seemed to him as if, in this instance, mamma had said a cleverthing. Kaela was silent; but her eyes shone, her lips smiled, everymovement was graceful,- in fact, she was beautiful; that cannot berepeated too often. Alfred decided to take a bust of Kaela as wellas of her mother. They sat to him accordingly, and saw how hemoulded and formed the soft clay with his fingers.

"I suppose it is only on our account that you perform thiscommon-place work yourself, instead of leaving it to your servant todo all that sticking together."

"It is really necessary that I should mould the clay myself," hereplied.

"Ah, yes, you are always so polite," said mamma, with a smile; andKaela silently pressed his hand, all soiled as it was with the clay.

Then he unfolded to them both the beauties of Nature, in all herworks; he pointed out to them how, in the scale of creation, inanimatematter was inferior to animate nature; the plant above the mineral,the animal above the plant, and man above them all. He strove toshow them how the beauty of the mind could be displayed in the outwardform, and that it was the sculptor's task to seize upon that beauty ofexpression, and produce it in his works. Kaela stood silent, butnodded in approbation of what he said, while mamma-in-law made thefollowing confession:-

"It is difficult to follow you; but I go hobbling along afteryou with my thoughts, though what you say makes my head whirl roundand round. Still I contrive to lay hold on some of it."

Kaela's beauty had a firm hold on Alfred; it filled his soul,and held a mastery over him. Beauty beamed from Kaela's every feature,glittered in her eyes, lurked in the corners of her mouth, andpervaded every movement of her agile fingers. Alfred, the sculptor,saw this. He spoke only to her, thought only of her, and the twobecame one; and so it may be said she spoke much, for he was alwaystalking to her; and he and she were one. Such was the betrothal, andthen came the wedding, with bride's-maids and wedding presents, allduly mentioned in the wedding speech. Mamma-in-law had set upThorwalsden's bust at the end of the table, attired in adressing-gown; it was her fancy that he should be a guest. Songswere sung, and cheers given; for it was a gay wedding, and they were ahandsome pair. "Pygmalion loved his Galatea," said one of the songs.

"Ah, that is some of your mythologies," said mamma-in-law.

Next day the youthful pair started for Copenhagen, where they wereto live; mamma-in-law accompanied them, to attend to the "coarsework," as she always called the domestic arrangements. Kaela lookedlike a doll in a doll's house, for everything was bright and new,and so fine. There they sat, all three; and as for Alfred, a proverbmay describe his position- he looked like a swan amongst the geese.The magic of form had enchanted him; he had looked at the casketwithout caring to inquire what it contained, and that omission oftenbrings the greatest unhappiness into married life. The casket may beinjured, the gilding may fall off, and then the purchaser regretshis bargain.

In a large party it is very disagreeable to find a button givingway, with no studs at hand to fall back upon; but it is worse still ina large company to be conscious that your wife and mother-in-law aretalking nonsense, and that you cannot depend upon yourself toproduce a little ready wit to carry off the stupidity of the wholeaffair.

The young married pair often sat together hand in hand; he wouldtalk, but she could only now and then let fall a word in the samemelodious voice, the same bell-like tones. It was a mental relief whenSophy, one of her friends, came to pay them a visit. Sophy was not,pretty. She was, however, quite free from any physical deformity,although Kaela used to say she was a little crooked; but no eye,save an intimate acquaintance, would have noticed it. She was a verysensible girl, yet it never occurred to her that she might be adangerous person in such a house. Her appearance created a newatmosphere in the doll's house, and air was really required, theyall owned that. They felt the want of a change of air, andconsequently the young couple and their mother travelled to Italy.

"Thank heaven we are at home again within our own four walls,"said mamma-in-law and daughter both, on their return after a year'sabsence.

"There is no real pleasure in travelling," said mamma; "to tellthe truth, it's very wearisome; I beg pardon for saying so. I was soonvery tired of it, although I had my children with me; and, besides,it's very expensive work travelling, very expensive. And all thosegalleries one is expected to see, and the quantity of things you areobliged to run after! It must be done, for very shame; you are sure tobe asked when you come back if you have seen everything, and will mostlikely be told that you've omitted to see what was best worth seeingof all. I got tired at last of those endless Madonnas; I began tothink I was turning into a Madonna myself."

"And then the living, mamma," said Kaela.

"Yes, indeed," she replied, "no such a thing as a respectable meatsoup- their cookery is miserable stuff."

The journey had also tired Kaela; but she was always fatigued,that was the worst of it. So they sent for Sophy, and she was takeninto the house to reside with them, and her presence there was a greatadvantage. Mamma-in-law acknowledged that Sophy was not only aclever housewife, but well-informed and accomplished, though thatcould hardly be expected in a person of her limited means. She wasalso a generous-hearted, faithful girl; she showed that thoroughlywhile Kaela lay sick, fading away. When the casket is everything,the casket should be strong, or else all is over. And all was overwith the casket, for Kaela died.

"She was beautiful," said her mother; "she was quite differentfrom the beauties they call 'antiques,' for they are so damaged. Abeauty ought to be perfect, and Kaela was a perfect beauty."

Alfred wept, and mamma wept, and they both wore mourning. Theblack dress suited mamma very well, and she wore mourning the longest.She had also to experience another grief in seeing Alfred marry again,marry Sophy, who was nothing at all to look at. "He's gone to the veryextreme," said mamma-in-law; "he has gone from the most beautiful tothe ugliest, and he has forgotten his first wife. Men have noconstancy. My husband was a very different man,- but then he diedbefore me."

"'Pygmalion loved his Galatea,' was in the song they sung at myfirst wedding," said Alfred; "I once fell in love with a beautifulstatue, which awoke to life in my arms; but the kindred soul, which isa gift from heaven, the angel who can feel and sympathize with andelevate us, I have not found and won till now. You came, Sophy, not inthe glory of outward beauty, though you are even fairer than isnecessary. The chief thing still remains. You came to teach thesculptor that his work is but dust and clay only, an outward form madeof a material that decays, and that what we should seek to obtain isthe ethereal essence of mind and spirit. Poor Kaela! our life wasbut as a meeting by the way-side; in yonder world, where we shall knoweach other from a union of mind, we shall be but mere acquaintances."

"That was not a loving speech," said Sophy, "nor spoken like aChristian. In a future state, where there is neither marrying norgiving in marriage, but where, as you say, souls are attracted to eachother by sympathy; there everything beautiful develops itself, andis raised to a higher state of existence: her soul will acquire suchcompleteness that it may harmonize with yours, even more than mine,and you will then once more utter your first rapturous exclamationof your love, 'Beautiful, most beautiful!'"

THE END.

1872

FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

BY THE ALMSHOUSE WINDOW

by Hans Christian Andersen

NEAR the grass-covered rampart which encircles Copenhagen lies agreat red house. Balsams and other flowers greet us from the long rowsof windows in the house, whose interior is sufficientlypoverty-stricken; and poor and old are the people who inhabit it.The building is the Warton Almshouse.

Look! at the window there leans an old maid. She plucks thewithered leaf from the balsam, and looks at the grass-covered rampart,on which many children are playing. What is the old maid thinkingof? A whole life drama is unfolding itself before her inward gaze.

"The poor little children, how happy they are- how merrily theyplay and romp together! What red cheeks and what angels' eyes! butthey have no shoes nor stockings. They dance on the green rampart,just on the place where, according to the old story, the ground alwayssank in, and where a sportive, frolicsome child had been lured bymeans of flowers, toys and sweetmeats into an open grave ready dug forit, and which was afterwards closed over the child; and from thatmoment, the old story says, the ground gave way no longer, the moundremained firm and fast, and was quickly covered with the green turf.The little people who now play on that spot know nothing of the oldtale, else would they fancy they heard a child crying deep below theearth, and the dewdrops on each blade of grass would be to themtears of woe. Nor do they know anything of the Danish King who here,in the face of the coming foe, took an oath before all his tremblingcourtiers that he would hold out with the citizens of his capital, anddie here in his nest; they know nothing of the men who have foughthere, or of the women who from here have drenched with boiling waterthe enemy, clad in white, and 'biding in the snow to surprise thecity.

"No! the poor little ones are playing with light, childishspirits. Play on, play on, thou little maiden! Soon the years willcome- yes, those glorious years. The priestly hands have been laidon the candidates for confirmation; hand in hand they walk on thegreen rampart. Thou hast a white frock on; it has cost thy mother muchlabor, and yet it is only cut down for thee out of an old largerdress! You will also wear a red shawl; and what if it hang too fardown? People will only see how large, how very large it is. You arethinking of your dress, and of the Giver of all good- so glorious isit to wander on the green rampart!

"And the years roll by; they have no lack of dark days, but youhave your cheerful young spirit, and you have gained a friend- youknow not how. You met, oh, how often! You walk together on the rampartin the fresh spring, on the high days and holidays, when all the worldcome out to walk upon the ramparts, and all the bells of the churchsteeples seem to be singing a song of praise for the coming spring.

"Scarcely have the violets come forth, but there on the rampart,just opposite the beautiful Castle of Rosenberg, there is a treebright with the first green buds. Every year this tree sends forthfresh green shoots. Alas! It is not so with the human heart! Darkmists, more in number than those that cover the northern skies,cloud the human heart. Poor child! thy friend's bridal chamber is ablack coffin, and thou becomest an old maid. From the almshousewindow, behind the balsams, thou shalt look on the merry children atplay, and shalt see thine own history renewed."

And that is the life drama that passes before the old maid whileshe looks out upon the rampart, the green, sunny rampart, where thechildren, with their red cheeks and bare shoeless feet, arerejoicing merrily, like the other free little birds.

THE END.

1872

FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

CHILDREN'S PRATTLE

by Hans Christian Andersen

AT a rich merchant's house there was a children's party, and thechildren of rich and great people were there. The merchant was alearned man, for his father had sent him to college, and he had passedhis examination. His father had been at first only a cattle dealer,but always honest and industrious, so that he had made money, andhis son, the merchant, had managed to increase his store. Clever as hewas, he had also a heart; but there was less said of his heart than ofhis money. All descriptions of people visited at the merchant's house,well born, as well as intellectual, and some who possessed neitherof these recommendations.

Now it was a children's party, and there was children's prattle,which always is spoken freely from the heart. Among them was abeautiful little girl, who was terribly proud; but this had beentaught her by the servants, and not by her parents, who were far toosensible people.

Her father was groom of the Chambers, which is a high office atcourt, and she knew it. "I am a child of the court," she said; now shemight just as well have been a child of the cellar, for no one canhelp his birth; and then she told the other children that she waswell-born, and said that no one who was not well-born could rise inthe world. It was no use to read and be industrious, for if a personwas not well-born, he could never achieve anything. "And those whosenames end with 'sen,'" said she, "can never be anything at all. Wemust put our arms akimbo, and make the elbow quite pointed, so as tokeep these 'sen' people at a great distance." And then she stuck outher pretty little arms, and made the elbows quite pointed, to show howit was to be done; and her little arms were very pretty, for she was asweet-looking child.

But the little daughter of the merchant became very angry atthis speech, for her father's name was Petersen, and she knew that thename ended in "sen," and therefore she said as proudly as she could,"But my papa can buy a hundred dollars' worth of bonbons, and givethem away to children. Can your papa do that?"

"Yes; and my papa," said the little daughter of the editor of apaper, "my papa can put your papa and everybody's papa into thenewspaper. All sorts of people are afraid of him, my mamma says, forhe can do as he likes with the paper." And the little maiden lookedexceedingly proud, as if she had been a real princess, who may beexpected to look proud.

But outside the door, which stood ajar, was a poor boy, peepingthrough the crack of the door. He was of such a lowly station thathe had not been allowed even to enter the room. He had been turningthe spit for the cook, and she had given him permission to standbehind the door and peep in at the well-dressed children, who werehaving such a merry time within; and for him that was a great deal."Oh, if I could be one of them," thought he, and then he heard whatwas said about names, which was quite enough to make him more unhappy.His parents at home had not even a penny to spare to buy anewspaper, much less could they write in one; and worse than all,his father's name, and of course his own, ended in "sen," andtherefore he could never turn out well, which was a very sadthought. But after all, he had been born into the world, and thestation of life had been chosen for him, therefore he must be content.

And this is what happened on that evening.

Many years passed, and most of the children became grown-uppersons.

There stood a splendid house in the town, filled with all kinds ofbeautiful and valuable objects. Everybody wished to see it, and peopleeven came in from the country round to be permitted to view thetreasures it contained.

Which of the children whose prattle we have described, couldcall this house his own? One would suppose it very easy to guess.No, no; it is not so very easy. The house belonged to the poorlittle boy who had stood on that night behind the door. He hadreally become something great, although his name ended in "sen,"-for it was Thorwaldsen.

And the three other children- the children of good birth, ofmoney, and of intellectual pride,- well, they were respected andhonored in the world, for they had been well provided for by birth andposition, and they had no cause to reproach themselves with whatthey had thought and spoken on that evening long ago, for, afterall, it was mere "children's prattle."

THE END.

1872

FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

DELAYING IS NOT FORGETTING

by Hans Christian Andersen

THERE was an old mansion surrounded by a marshy ditch with adrawbridge which was but seldom let down:- not all guests are goodpeople. Under the roof were loopholes to shoot through, and to pourdown boiling water or even molten lead on the enemy, should heapproach. Inside the house the rooms were very high and had ceilingsof beams, and that was very useful considering the great deal of smokewhich rose up from the chimney fire where the large, damp logs of woodsmouldered. On the walls hung pictures of knights in armour andproud ladies in gorgeous dresses; the most stately of all walked aboutalive. She was called Meta Mogen; she was the mistress of the house,to her belonged the castle.

Towards the evening robbers came; they killed three of herpeople and also the yard-dog, and attached Mrs. Meta to the kennelby the chain, while they themselves made good cheer in the hall anddrank the wine and the good ale out of her cellar. Mrs. Meta was nowon the chain, she could not even bark.

But lo! the servant of one of the robbers secretly approached her;they must not see it, otherwise they would have killed him.

"Mrs. Meta Mogen," said the fellow, "do you still remember howmy father, when your husband was still alive, had to ride on thewooden horse? You prayed for him, but it was no good, he was to rideuntil his limbs were paralysed; but you stole down to him, as Isteal now to you, you yourself put little stones under each of hisfeet that he might have support, nobody saw it, or they pretendednot to see it, for you were then the young gracious mistress. Myfather has told me this, and I have not forgotten it! Now I willfree you, Mrs. Meta Mogen!"

Then they pulled the horses out of the stable and rode off in rainand wind to obtain the assistance of friends.

"Thus the small service done to the old man was richlyrewarded!" said Meta Mogen.

"Delaying is not forgetting," said the fellow.

The robbers were hanged.

There was an old mansion, it is still there; it did not belongto Mrs. Meta Mogen, it belonged to another old noble family.

We are now in the present time. The sun is shining on the giltknob of the tower, little wooded islands lie like bouquets on thewater, and wild swans are swimming round them. In the garden growroses; the mistress of the house is herself the finest rose petal, shebeams with joy, the joy of good deeds: however, not done in the wideworld, but in her heart, and what is preserved there is not forgotten.Delaying is not forgetting!

Now she goes from the mansion to a little peasant hut in thefield. Therein lives a poor paralysed girl; the window of her littleroom looks northward, the sun does not enter here. The girl can onlysee a small piece of field which is surrounded by a high fence. Butto-day the sun shines here- the warm, beautiful sun of God is withinthe little room; it comes from the south through the new window, whereformerly the wall was.

The paralysed girl sits in the warm sunshine and can see thewood and the lake; the world had become so large, so beautiful, andonly through a single word from the kind mistress of the mansion.

"The word was so easy, the deed so small," she said, "the joy itafforded me was infinitely great and sweet!"

And therefore she does many a good deed, thinks of all in thehumble cottages and in the rich mansions, where there are alsoafflicted ones. It is concealed and hidden, but God does not forgetit. Delayed is not forgotten!

An old house stood there; it was in the large town with its busytraffic. There are rooms and halls in it, but we do not enter them, weremain in the kitchen, where it is warm and light, clean and tidy; thecopper utensils are shining, the table as if polished with beeswax;the sink looks like a freshly scoured meatboard. All this a singleservant has done, and yet she has time to spare as if she wished to goto church; she wears a bow on her cap, a black bow, that signifiesmourning. But she has no one to mourn, neither father nor mother,neither relations nor sweetheart. She is a poor girl. One day shewas engaged to a poor fellow; they loved each other dearly.

One day he came to her and said:

"We both have nothing! The rich widow over the way in the basementhas made advances to me; she will make me rich, but you are in myheart; what do you advise me to do?"

"I advise you to do what you think will turn out to yourhappiness," said the girl. "Be kind and good to her, but rememberthis; from the hour we part we shall never see each other again."

Years passed; then one day she met the old friend and sweetheartin the street; he looked ill and miserable, and she could not helpasking him, "How are you?"

"Rich and prospering in every respect," he said; "the woman isbrave and good, but you are in my heart. I have fought the battle,it will soon be ended; we shall not see each other again now untilwe meet before God!"

A week has passed; this morning his death was in the newspaper,that is the reason of the girl's mourning! Her old sweetheart isdead and has left a wife and three step-children, as the paper says;it sounds as if there is a crack, but the metal is pure.

The black bow signifies mourning, the girl's face points to thesame in a still higher degree; it is preserved in the heart and willnever be forgotten. Delaying is not forgetting!

These are three stories you see, three leaves on the same stalk.Do you wish for some more trefoil leaves? In the little heartbookare many more of them. Delaying is not forgetting!

THE END.

1872

FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

EVERYTHING IN THE RIGHT PLACE

by Hans Christian Andersen

IT is more than a hundred years ago! At the border of the wood,near a large lake, stood the old mansion: deep ditches surrounded iton every side, in which reeds and bulrushes grew. Close by thedrawbridge, near the gate, there was an old willow tree, which bentover the reeds.

From the narrow pass came the sound of bugles and the trampling ofhorses' feet; therefore a little girl who was watching the geesehastened to drive them away from the bridge, before the wholehunting party came galloping up; they came, however, so quickly,that the girl, in order to avoid being run over, placed herself on oneof the high corner-stones of the bridge. She was still half a childand very delicately built; she had bright blue eyes, and a gentle,sweet expression. But such things the baron did not notice; while hewas riding past the little goose-girl, he reversed his hunting crop,and in rough play gave her such a push with it that she fellbackward into the ditch.

"Everything in the right place!" he cried. "Into the ditch withyou."

Then he burst out laughing, for that he called fun; the othersjoined in- the whole party shouted and cried, while the hounds barked.

While the poor girl was falling she happily caught one of thebranches of the willow tree, by the help of which she held herselfover the water, and as soon as the baron with his company and the dogshad disappeared through the gate, the girl endeavoured to scramble up,but the branch broke off, and she would have fallen backward among therushes, had not a strong hand from above seized her at this moment. Itwas the hand of a pedlar; he had witnessed what had happened from ashort distance, and now hastened to assist her.

"Everything in the right place," he said, imitating the noblebaron, and pulling the little maid up to the dry ground. He wishedto put the branch back in the place it had been broken off, but itis not possible to put everything in the right place;" therefore hestuck the branch into the soft ground.

"Grow and thrive if you can, and produce a good flute for themyonder at the mansion," he said; it would have given him greatpleasure to see the noble baron and his companions well thrashed. Thenhe entered the castle- but not the banqueting hall; he was toohumble for that. No; he went to the servants' hall. The men-servantsand maids looked over his stock of articles and bargained with him;loud crying and screaming were heard from the master's table above:they called it singing- indeed, they did their best. Laughter andthe howls of dogs were heard through the open windows: there they werefeasting and revelling; wine and strong old ale were foaming in theglasses and jugs; the favourite dogs ate with their masters; now andthen the squires kissed one of these animals, after having wiped itsmouth first with the tablecloth. They ordered the pedlar to come up,but only to make fun of him. The wine had got into their heads, andreason had left them. They poured beer into a stocking that he coulddrink with them, but quick. That's what they called fun, and it madethem laugh. Then meadows, peasants, and farmyards were staked on onecard and lost.

"Everything in the right place!" the pedlar said when he had atlast safely got out of Sodom and Gomorrah, as he called it. "Theopen high road is my right place; up there I did not feel at ease."

The little maid, who was still watching the geese, nodded kindlyto him as he passed through the gate.

Days and weeks passed, and it was seen that the brokenwillow-branch which the peddlar had stuck into the ground near theditch remained fresh and green- nay, it even put forth fresh twigs;the little goose-girl saw that the branch had taken root, and was verypleased; the tree, so she said, was now her tree. While the tree wasadvancing, everything else at the castle was going backward, throughfeasting and gambling, for these are two rollers upon which nobodystands safely. Less than six years afterwards the baron passed outof his castle-gate a poor beggar, while the baronial seat had beenbought by a rich tradesman. He was the very pedlar they had made funof and poured beer into a stocking for him to drink; but honesty andindustry bring one forward, and now the pedlar was the possessor ofthe baronial estate. From that time forward no card-playing waspermitted there.

"That's a bad pastime," he said; "when the devil saw the Bible forthe first time he wanted to produce a caricature in opposition toit, and invented card-playing."

The new proprietor of the estate took a wife, and whom did hetake?- The little goose-girl, who had always remained good and kind,and who looked as beautiful in her new clothes as if she had been alady of high birth. And how did all this come about? That would be toolong a tale to tell in our busy time, but it really happened, andthe most important events have yet to be told.

It was pleasant and cheerful to live in the old place now: themother superintended the household, and the father looked after thingsout-of-doors, and they were indeed very prosperous.

Where honesty leads the way, prosperity is sure to follow. The oldmansion was repaired and painted, the ditches were cleaned andfruit-trees planted; all was homely and pleasant, and the floorswere as white and shining as a pasteboard. In the long winter eveningsthe mistress and her maids sat at the spinning-wheel in the largehall; every Sunday the counsellor- this title the pedlar had obtained,although only in his old days- read aloud a portion from the Bible.The children (for they had children) all received the besteducation, but they were not all equally clever, as is the case in allfamilies.

In the meantime the willow tree near the drawbridge had grown upinto a splendid tree, and stood there, free, and was never clipped."It is our genealogical tree," said the old people to theirchildren, "and therefore it must be honoured."

A hundred years had elapsed. It was in our own days; the lakehad been transformed into marsh land; the whole baronial seat had,as it were, disappeared. A pool of water near some ruined walls wasthe only remainder of the deep ditches; and here stood a magnificentold tree with overhanging branches- that was the genealogical tree.Here it stood, and showed how beautiful a willow can look if onedoes not interfere with it. The trunk, it is true, was cleft in themiddle from the root to the crown; the storms had bent it a little,but it still stood there, and out of every crevice and cleft, in whichwind and weather had carried mould, blades of grass and flowers sprangforth. Especially above, where the large boughs parted, there wasquite a hanging garden, in which wild raspberries and hart's-tongueferns throve, and even a little mistletoe had taken root, and grewgracefully in the old willow branches, which were reflected in thedark water beneath when the wind blew the chickweed into the corner ofthe pool. A footpath which led across the fields passed close by theold tree. High up, on the woody hillside, stood the new mansion. Ithad a splendid view, and was large and magnificent; its window paneswere so clear that one might have thought there were none there atall. The large flight of steps which led to the entrance looked like abower covered with roses and broad-leaved plants. The lawn was asgreen as if each blade of grass was cleaned separately morning andevening. Inside, in the hall, valuable oil paintings were hanging onthe walls. Here stood chairs and sofas covered with silk and velvet,which could be easily rolled about on castors; there were tableswith polished marble tops, and books bound in morocco with gilt edges.Indeed, well-to-do and distinguished people lived here; it was thedwelling of the baron and his family. Each article was in keeping withits surroundings. "Everything in the right place" was the mottoaccording to which they also acted here, and therefore all thepaintings which had once been the honour and glory of the oldmansion were now hung up in the passage which led to the servants'rooms. It was all old lumber, especially two portraits- onerepresenting a man in a scarlet coat with a wig, and the other alady with powdered and curled hair holding a rose in her hand, each ofthem being surrounded by a large wreath of willow branches. Bothportraits had many holes in them, because the baron's sons used thetwo old people as targets for their crossbows. They represented thecounsellor and his wife, from whom the whole family descended. "Butthey did not properly belong to our family," said one of the boys; "hewas a pedlar and she kept the geese. They were not like papa andmamma." The portraits were old lumber, and "everything in its rightplace." That was why the great-grandparents had been hung up in thepassage leading to the servants' rooms.

The son of the village pastor was tutor at the mansion. One day hewent for a walk across the fields with his young pupils and theirelder sister, who had lately been confirmed. They walked along theroad which passed by the old willow tree, and while they were on theroad she picked a bunch of field-flowers. "Everything in the rightplace," and indeed the bunch looked very beautiful. At the same timeshe listened to all that was said, and she very much liked to hear thepastor's son speak about the elements and of the great men and womenin history. She had a healthy mind, noble in thought and deed, andwith a heart full of love for everything that God had created. Theystopped at the old willow tree, as the youngest of the baron's sonswished very much to have a flute from it, such as had been cut for himfrom other willow trees; the pastor's son broke a branch off. "Oh,pray do not do it!" said the young lady; but it was already done."That is our famous old tree. I love it very much. They often laugh atme at home about it, but that does not matter. There is a storyattached to this tree." And now she told him all that we alreadyknow about the tree- the old mansion, the pedlar and the goose-girlwho had met there for the first time, and had become the ancestorsof the noble family to which the young lady belonged.

"They did not like to be knighted, the good old people," she said;"their motto was 'everything in the right place,' and it would notbe right, they thought, to purchase a title for money. My grandfather,the first baron, was their son. They say he was a very learned man,a great favourite with the princes and princesses, and was invitedto all court festivities. The others at home love him best; but, Ido not know why, there seemed to me to be something about the oldcouple that attracts my heart! How homely, how patriarchal, it musthave been in the old mansion, where the mistress sat at thespinning-wheel with her maids, while her husband read aloud out of theBible!"

"They must have been excellent, sensible people," said thepastor's son. And with this the conversation turned naturally tonoblemen and commoners; from the manner in which the tutor spoke aboutthe significance of being noble, it seemed almost as if he did notbelong to a commoner's family.

"It is good fortune to be of a family who have distinguishedthemselves, and to possess as it were a spur in oneself to advanceto all that is good. It is a splendid thing to belong to a noblefamily, whose name serves as a card of admission to the highestcircles. Nobility is a distinction; it is a gold coin that bears thestamp of its own value. It is the fallacy of the time, and manypoets express it, to say that all that is noble is bad and stupid, andthat, on the contrary, the lower one goes among the poor, the morebrilliant virtues one finds. I do not share this opinion, for it iswrong. In the upper classes one sees many touchingly beautiful traits;my own mother has told me of such, and I could mention several. Oneday she was visiting a nobleman's house in town; my grandmother, Ibelieve, had been the lady's nurse when she was a child. My mother andthe nobleman were alone in the room, when he suddenly noticed an oldwoman on crutches come limping into the courtyard; she came everySunday to carry a gift away with her.

"'There is the poor old woman,' said the nobleman; 'it is sodifficult for her to walk.'

"My mother had hardly understood what he said before hedisappeared from the room, and went downstairs, in order to save herthe troublesome walk for the gift she came to fetch. Of course this isonly a little incident, but it has its good sound like the poorwidow's two mites in the Bible, the sound which echoes in the depth ofevery human heart; and this is what the poet ought to show and pointout- more especially in our own time he ought to sing of this; it doesgood, it mitigates and reconciles! But when a man, simply because heis of noble birth and possesses a genealogy, stands on his hind legsand neighs in the street like an Arabian horse, and says when acommoner has been in a room: 'Some people from the street have beenhere,' there nobility is decaying; it has become a mask of the kindthat Thespis created, and it is amusing when such a person isexposed in satire."

Such was the tutor's speech; it was a little long, but while hedelivered it he had finished cutting the flute.

There was a large party at the mansion; many guests from theneighbourhood and from the capital had arrived. There were ladies withtasteful and with tasteless dresses; the big hall was quite crowdedwith people. The clergymen stood humbly together in a corner, andlooked as if they were preparing for a funeral, but it was a festival-only the amusement had not yet begun. A great concert was to takeplace, and that is why the baron's young son had brought his willowflute with him; but he could not make it sound, nor could hisfather, and therefore the flute was good for nothing.

There was music and songs of the kind which delight most thosethat perform them; otherwise quite charming!

"Are you an artist?" said a cavalier, the son of his father;"you play on the flute, you have made it yourself; it is genius thatrules- the place of honour is due to you."

"Certainly not! I only advance with the time, and that of courseone can't help."

"I hope you will delight us all with the little instrument- willyou not?" Thus saying he handed to the tutor the flute which hadbeen cut from the willow tree by the pool; and then announced in aloud voice that the tutor wished to perform a solo on the flute.They wished to tease him- that was evident, and therefore the tutordeclined to play, although he could do so very well. They urged andrequested him, however, so long, that at last he took up the flute andplaced it to his lips.

That was a marvellous flute! Its sound was as thrilling as thewhistle of a steam engine; in fact it was much stronger, for itsounded and was heard in the yard, in the garden, in the wood, andmany miles round in the country; at the same time a storm rose androared; "Everything in the right place." And with this the baron, asif carried by the wind, flew out of the hall straight into theshepherd's cottage, and the shepherd flew- not into the hall,thither he could not come- but into the servants' hall, among thesmart footmen who were striding about in silk stockings; these haughtymenials looked horror-struck that such a person ventured to sit attable with them. But in the hall the baron's daughter flew to theplace of honour at the end of the table- she was worthy to sitthere; the pastor's son had the seat next to her; the two sat there asif they were a bridal pair. An old Count, belonging to one of theoldest families of the country, remained untouched in his place ofhonour; the flute was just, and it is one's duty to be so. Thesharp-tongued cavalier who had caused the flute to be played, andwho was the child of his parents, flew headlong into the fowl-house,but not he alone.

The flute was heard at the distance of a mile, and strangeevents took place. A rich banker's family, who were driving in a coachand four, were blown out of it, and could not even find room behind itwith their footmen. Two rich farmers who had in our days shot uphigher than their own corn-fields, were flung into the ditch; it was adangerous flute. Fortunately it burst at the first sound, and that wasa good thing, for then it was put back into its owner's pocket- "itsright place."

The next day, nobody spoke a word about what had taken place; thusoriginated the phrase, "to pocket the flute." Everything was againin its usual order, except that the two old pictures of the peddlarand the goose-girl were hanging in the banqueting-hall. There theywere on the wall as if blown up there; and as a real expert saidthat they were painted by a master's hand, they remained there andwere restored. "Everything in the right place," and to this it willcome. Eternity is long, much longer indeed than this story.

THE END.

1872

FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

GRANDMOTHER

by Hans Christian AndersenGRANDMOTHER

GRANDMOTHER is very old, her face is wrinkled, and her hair isquite white; but her eyes are like two stars, and they have a mild,gentle expression in them when they look at you, which does yougood. She wears a dress of heavy, rich silk, with large flowers workedon it; and it rustles when she moves. And then she can tell the mostwonderful stories. Grandmother knows a great deal, for she was alivebefore father and mother- that's quite certain. She has a hymn-bookwith large silver clasps, in which she often reads; and in the book,between the leaves, lies a rose, quite flat and dry; it is not sopretty as the roses which are standing in the glass, and yet shesmiles at it most pleasantly, and tears even come into her eyes. "Iwonder why grandmother looks at the withered flower in the old bookthat way? Do you know?" Why, when grandmother's tears fall upon therose, and she is looking at it, the rose revives, and fills the roomwith its fragrance; the walls vanish as in a mist, and all aroundher is the glorious green wood, where in summer the sunlight streamsthrough thick foliage; and grandmother, why she is young again, acharming maiden, fresh as a rose, with round, rosy cheeks, fair,bright ringlets, and a figure pretty and graceful; but the eyes, thosemild, saintly eyes, are the same,- they have been left to grandmother.At her side sits a young man, tall and strong; he gives her a rose andshe smiles. Grandmother cannot smile like that now. Yes, she issmiling at the memory of that day, and many thoughts and recollectionsof the past; but the handsome young man is gone, and the rose haswithered in the old book, and grandmother is sitting there, again anold woman, looking down upon the withered rose in the book.

Grandmother is dead now. She had been sitting in her arm-chair,telling us a long, beautiful tale; and when it was finished, shesaid she was tired, and leaned her head back to sleep awhile. We couldhear her gentle breathing as she slept; gradually it became quieterand calmer, and on her countenance beamed happiness and peace. Itwas as if lighted up with a ray of sunshine. She smiled once more, andthen people said she was dead. She was laid in a black coffin, lookingmild and beautiful in the white folds of the shrouded linen, thoughher eyes were closed; but every wrinkle had vanished, her hairlooked white and silvery, and around her mouth lingered a sweet smile.We did not feel at all afraid to look at the corpse of her who hadbeen such a dear, good grandmother. The hymn-book, in which the rosestill lay, was placed under her head, for so she had wished it; andthen they buried grandmother.

On the grave, close by the churchyard wall, they planted arose-tree; it was soon full of roses, and the nightingale sat amongthe flowers, and sang over the grave. From the organ in the churchsounded the music and the words of the beautiful psalms, which werewritten in the old book under the head of the dead one.

The moon shone down upon the grave, but the dead was not there;every child could go safely, even at night, and pluck a rose fromthe tree by the churchyard wall. The dead know more than we do who areliving. They know what a terror would come upon us if such a strangething were to happen, as the appearance of a dead person among us.They are better off than we are; the dead return no more. The earthhas been heaped on the coffin, and it is earth only that lies withinit. The leaves of the hymn-book are dust; and the rose, with all itsrecollections, has crumbled to dust also. But over the grave freshroses bloom, the nightingale sings, and the organ sounds and therestill lives a remembrance of old grandmother, with the loving,gentle eyes that always looked young. Eyes can never die. Ours willonce again behold dear grandmother, young and beautiful as when, forthe first time, she kissed the fresh, red rose, that is now dust inthe grave.

THE END.

1872

FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

HOLGER DANSKE

by Hans Christian Andersen

IN Denmark there stands an old castle named Kronenburg, close bythe Sound of Elsinore, where large ships, both English, Russian, andPrussian, pass by hundreds every day. And they salute the old castlewith cannons, "Boom, boom," which is as if they said, "Good-day."And the cannons of the old castle answer "Boom," which means "Manythanks." In winter no ships sail by, for the whole Sound is coveredwith ice as far as the Swedish coast, and has quite the appearanceof a high-road. The Danish and the Swedish flags wave, and Danes andSwedes say, "Good-day," and "Thank you" to each other, not withcannons, but with a friendly shake of the hand; and they exchangewhite bread and biscuits with each other, because foreign articlestaste the best.

But the most beautiful sight of all is the old castle ofKronenburg, where Holger Danske sits in the deep, dark cellar, intowhich no one goes. He is clad in iron and steel, and rests his head onhis strong arm; his long beard hangs down upon the marble table,into which it has become firmly rooted; he sleeps and dreams, but inhis dreams he sees everything that happens in Denmark. On eachChristmas-eve an angel comes to him and tells him that all he hasdreamed is true, and that he may go to sleep again in peace, asDenmark is not yet in any real danger; but should danger ever come,then Holger Danske will rouse himself, and the table will burstasunder as he draws out his beard. Then he will come forth in hisstrength, and strike a blow that shall sound in all the countries ofthe world.

An old grandfather sat and told his little grandson all this aboutHolger Danske, and the boy knew that what his grandfather told himmust be true. As the old man related this story, he was carving animage in wood to represent Holger Danske, to be fastened to the prowof a ship; for the old grandfather was a carver in wood, that is,one who carved figures for the heads of ships, according to thenames given to them. And now he had carved Holger Danske, who stoodthere erect and proud, with his long beard, holding in one hand hisbroad battle-axe, while with the other he leaned on the Danish arms.The old grandfather told the little boy a great deal about Danishmen and women who had distinguished themselves in olden times, so thathe fancied he knew as much even as Holger Danske himself, who, afterall, could only dream; and when the little fellow went to bed, hethought so much about it that he actually pressed his chin against thecounterpane, and imagined that he had a long beard which had becomerooted to it. But the old grandfather remained sitting at his work andcarving away at the last part of it, which was the Danish arms. Andwhen he had finished he looked at the whole figure, and thought of allhe had heard and read, and what he had that evening related to hislittle grandson. Then he nodded his head, wiped his spectacles and putthem on, and said, "Ah, yes; Holger Danske will not appear in mylifetime, but the boy who is in bed there may very likely live tosee him when the event really comes to pass." And the oldgrandfather nodded again; and the more he looked at Holger Danske, themore satisfied he felt that he had carved a good image of him. Itseemed to glow with the color of life; the armor glittered like ironand steel. The hearts in the Danish arms grew more and more red; whilethe lions, with gold crowns on their heads, were leaping up. "Thatis the most beautiful coat of arms in the world," said the old man."The lions represent strength; and the hearts, gentleness and love."And as he gazed on the uppermost lion, he thought of King Canute,who chained great England to Denmark's throne; and he looked at thesecond lion, and thought of Waldemar, who untied Denmark and conqueredthe Vandals. The third lion reminded him of Margaret, who unitedDenmark, Sweden, and Norway. But when he gazed at the red hearts,their colors glowed more deeply, even as flames, and his memoryfollowed each in turn. The first led him to a dark, narrow prison,in which sat a prisoner, a beautiful woman, daughter of Christianthe Fourth, Eleanor Ulfeld, and the flame became a rose on herbosom, and its blossoms were not more pure than the heart of thisnoblest and best of all Danish women. "Ah, yes; that is indeed a nobleheart in the Danish arms," said the grandfather. and his spiritfollowed the second flame, which carried him out to sea, where cannonsroared and the ships lay shrouded in smoke, and the flaming heartattached itself to the breast of Hvitfeldt in the form of the ribbonof an order, as he blew himself and his ship into the air in orderto save the fleet. And the third flame led him to Greenland's wretchedhuts, where the preacher, Hans Egede, ruled with love in every wordand action. The flame was as a star on his breast, and added anotherheart to the Danish arms. And as the old grandfather's spirit followedthe next hovering flame, he knew whither it would lead him. In apeasant woman's humble room stood Frederick the Sixth, writing hisname with chalk on the beam. The flame trembled on his breast and inhis heart, and it was in the peasant's room that his heart becameone for the Danish arms. The old grandfather wiped his eyes, for hehad known King Frederick, with his silvery locks and his honest blueeyes, and had lived for him, and he folded his hands and remainedfor some time silent. Then his daughter came to him and said it wasgetting late, that he ought to rest for a while, and that the supperwas on the table.

"What you have been carving is very beautiful, grandfather,"said she. "Holger Danske and the old coat of arms; it seems to me asif I have seen the face somewhere."

"No, that is impossible," replied the old grandfather; "but I haveseen it, and I have tried to carve it in wood, as I have retained itin my memory. It was a long time ago, while the English fleet lay inthe roads, on the second of April, when we showed that we were true,ancient Danes. I was on board the Denmark, in Steene Bille's squadron;I had a man by my side whom even the cannon balls seemed to fear. Hesung old songs in a merry voice, and fired and fought as if he weresomething more than a man. I still remember his face, but fromwhence he came, or whither he went, I know not; no one knows. I haveoften thought it might have been Holger Danske himself, who had swamdown to us from Kronenburg to help us in the hour of danger. Thatwas my idea, and there stands his likeness."

The wooden figure threw a gigantic shadow on the wall, and even onpart of the ceiling; it seemed as if the real Holger Danske stoodbehind it, for the shadow moved; but this was no doubt caused by theflame of the lamp not burning steadily. Then the daughter-in-lawkissed the old grandfather, and led him to a large arm-chair by thetable; and she, and her husband, who was the son of the old man andthe father of the little boy who lay in bed, sat down to supper withhim. And the old grandfather talked of the Danish lions and the Danishhearts, emblems of strength and gentleness, and explained quiteclearly that there is another strength than that which lies in asword, and he pointed to a shelf where lay a number of old books,and amongst them a collection of Holberg's plays, which are muchread and are so clever and amusing that it is easy to fancy we haveknown the people of those days, who are described in them.

"He knew how to fight also," said the old man; "for he lashedthe follies and prejudices of people during his whole life."

Then the grandfather nodded to a place above the looking-glass,where hung an almanac, with a representation of the Round Tower uponit, and said "Tycho Brahe was another of those who used a sword, butnot one to cut into the flesh and bone, but to make the way of thestars of heaven clear, and plain to be understood. And then he whosefather belonged to my calling,- yes, he, the son of the oldimage-carver, he whom we ourselves have seen, with his silvery locksand his broad shoulders, whose name is known in all lands;- yes, hewas a sculptor, while I am only a carver. Holger Danske can appearin marble, so that people in all countries of the world may hear ofthe strength of Denmark. Now let us drink the health of Bertel."

But the little boy in bed saw plainly the old castle ofKronenburg, and the Sound of Elsinore, and Holger Danske, far downin the cellar, with his beard rooted to the table, and dreaming ofeverything that was passing above him.

And Holger Danske did dream of the little humble room in which theimage-carver sat; he heard all that had been said, and he nodded inhis dream, saying, "Ah, yes, remember me, you Danish people, keep mein your memory, I will come to you in the hour of need."

The bright morning light shone over Kronenburg, and the windbrought the sound of the hunting-horn across from the neighboringshores. The ships sailed by and saluted the castle with the boom ofthe cannon, and Kronenburg returned the salute, "Boom, boom." Butthe roaring cannons did not awake Holger Danske, for they meant only"Good morning," and "Thank you." They must fire in another fashionbefore he awakes; but wake he will, for there is energy yet inHolger Danske.

THE END.

1872

FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

IB AND LITTLE CHRISTINA

by Hans Christian Andersen

IN the forest that extends from the banks of the Gudenau, in NorthJutland, a long way into the country, and not far from the clearstream, rises a great ridge of land, which stretches through thewood like a wall. Westward of this ridge, and not far from theriver, stands a farmhouse, surrounded by such poor land that the sandysoil shows itself between the scanty ears of rye and wheat whichgrow in it. Some years have passed since the people who lived herecultivated these fields; they kept three sheep, a pig, and two oxen;in fact they maintained themselves very well, they had quite enough tolive upon, as people generally have who are content with their lot.They even could have afforded to keep two horses, but it was asaying among the farmers in those parts, "The horse eats himselfup;" that is to say, he eats as much as he earns. Jeppe Janscultivated his fields in summer, and in the winter he made woodenshoes. He also had an assistant, a lad who understood as well as hehimself did how to make wooden shoes strong, but light, and in thefashion. They carved shoes and spoons, which paid well; therefore noone could justly call Jeppe Jans and his family poor people. LittleIb, a boy of seven years old and the only child, would sit by,watching the workmen, or cutting a stick, and sometimes his fingerinstead of the stick. But one day Ib succeeded so well in hiscarving that he made two pieces of wood look really like two littlewooden shoes, and he determined to give them as a present to LittleChristina.

"And who was Little Christina?" She was the boatman's daughter,graceful and delicate as the child of a gentleman; had she beendressed differently, no one would have believed that she lived in ahut on the neighboring heath with her father. He was a widower, andearned his living by carrying firewood in his large boat from theforest to the eel-pond and eel-weir, on the estate of Silkborg, andsometimes even to the distant town of Randers. There was no oneunder whose care he could leave Little Christina; so she was almostalways with him in his boat, or playing in the wood among theblossoming heath, or picking the ripe wild berries. Sometimes, whenher father had to go as far as the town, he would take LittleChristina, who was a year younger than Ib, across the heath to thecottage of Jeppe Jans, and leave her there. Ib and Christina agreedtogether in everything; they divided their bread and berries when theywere hungry; they were partners in digging their little gardens;they ran, and crept, and played about everywhere. Once they wandered along way into the forest, and even ventured together to climb the highridge. Another time they found a few snipes' eggs in the wood, whichwas a great event. Ib had never been on the heath where Christina'sfather lived, nor on the river; but at last came an opportunity.Christina's father invited him to go for a sail in his boat; and theevening before, he accompanied the boatman across the heath to hishouse. The next morning early, the two children were placed on the topof a high pile of firewood in the boat, and sat eating bread andwild strawberries, while Christina's father and his man drove the boatforward with poles. They floated on swiftly, for the tide was in theirfavor, passing over lakes, formed by the stream in its course;sometimes they seemed quite enclosed by reeds and water-plants, yetthere was always room for them to pass out, although the old treesoverhung the water and the old oaks stretched out their bare branches,as if they had turned up their sleeves and wished to show theirknotty, naked arms. Old alder-trees, whose roots were loosened fromthe banks, clung with their fibres to the bottom of the stream, andthe tops of the branches above the water looked like little woodyislands. The water-lilies waved themselves to and fro on the river,everything made the excursion beautiful, and at last they came tothe great eel-weir, where the water rushed through the flood-gates;and the children thought this a beautiful sight. In those days therewas no factory nor any town house, nothing but the great farm, withits scanty-bearing fields, in which could be seen a few herd ofcattle, and one or two farm laborers. The rushing of the water throughthe sluices, and the scream of the wild ducks, were almost the onlysigns of active life at Silkborg. After the firewood had beenunloaded, Christina's father bought a whole bundle of eels and asucking-pig, which were all placed in a basket in the stern of theboat. Then they returned again up the stream; and as the wind wasfavorable, two sails were hoisted, which carried the boat on as wellas if two horses had been harnessed to it. As they sailed on, theycame by chance to the place where the boatman's assistant lived, ata little distance from the bank of the river. The boat was moored; andthe two men, after desiring the children to sit still, both went onshore. they obeyed this order for a very short time, and then forgotit altogether. First they peeped into the basket containing the eelsand the sucking-pig; then they must needs pull out the pig and take itin their hands, and feel it, and touch it; and as they both wantedto hold it at the same time, the consequence was that they let it fallinto the water, and the pig sailed away with the stream.

Here was a terrible disaster. Ib jumped ashore, and ran a littledistance from the boat.

"Oh, take me with you," cried Christina; and she sprang after him.In a few minutes they found themselves deep in a thicket, and could nolonger see the boat or the shore. They ran on a little farther, andthen Christina fell down, and began to cry.

Ib helped her up, and said, "Never mind; follow me. Yonder isthe house." But the house was not yonder; and they wandered stillfarther, over the dry rustling leaves of the last year, and treadingon fallen branches that crackled under their little feet; then theyheard a loud, piercing cry, and they stood still to listen.Presently the scream of an eagle sounded through the wood; it was anugly cry, and it frightened the children; but before them, in thethickest part of the forest, grew the most beautiful blackberries,in wonderful quantities. They looked so inviting that the childrencould not help stopping; and they remained there so long eating,that their mouths and cheeks became quite black with the juice.

Presently they heard the frightful scream again, and Christinasaid, "We shall get into trouble about that pig."

"Oh, never mind," said Ib; "we will go home to my father'shouse. It is here in the wood." So they went on, but the road led themout of the way; no house could be seen, it grew dark, and the childrenwere afraid. The solemn stillness that reigned around them was now andthen broken by the shrill cries of the great horned owl and otherbirds that they knew nothing of. At last they both lost themselvesin the thicket; Christina began to cry, and then Ib cried too; and,after weeping and lamenting for some time, they stretched themselvesdown on the dry leaves and fell asleep.

The sun was high in the heavens when the two children woke. Theyfelt cold; but not far from their resting-place, on a hill, the sunwas shining through the trees. They thought if they went there theyshould be warm, and Ib fancied he should be able to see his father'shouse from such a high spot. But they were far away from home now,in quite another part of the forest. They clambered to the top ofthe rising ground, and found themselves on the edge of a declivity,which sloped down to a clear transparent lake. Great quantities offish could be seen through the clear water, sparkling in the sun'srays; they were quite surprised when they came so suddenly upon suchan unexpected sight.

Close to where they stood grew a hazel-bush, covered withbeautiful nuts. They soon gathered some, cracked them, and ate thefine young kernels, which were only just ripe. But there was anothersurprise and fright in store for them. Out of the thicket stepped atall old woman, her face quite brown, and her hair of a deep shiningblack; the whites of her eyes glittered like a Moor's; on her back shecarried a bundle, and in her hand a knotted stick. She was a gypsy.The children did not at first understand what she said. She drew outof her pocket three large nuts, in which she told them were hidden themost beautiful and lovely things in the world, for they were wishingnuts. Ib looked at her, and as she spoke so kindly, he took courage,and asked her if she would give him the nuts; and the woman gavethem to him, and then gathered some more from the bushes forherself, quite a pocket full. Ib and Christina looked at the wishingnuts with wide open eyes.

"Is there in this nut a carriage, with a pair of horses?" askedIb.

"Yes, there is a golden carriage, with two golden horses," repliedthe woman.

"Then give me that nut," said Christina; so Ib gave it to her, andthe strange woman tied up the nut for her in her handkerchief.

Ib held up another nut. "Is there, in this nut, a pretty littleneckerchief like the one Christina has on her neck?" asked Ib.

"There are ten neckerchiefs in it," she replied, "as well asbeautiful dresses, stockings, and a hat and veil."

"Then I will have that one also," said Christina; "and it is apretty one too. And then Ib gave her the second nut.

The third was a little black thing. "You may keep that one,"said Christina; "it is quite as pretty."

"What is in it?" asked Ib.

"The best of all things for you," replied the gypsy. So Ib heldthe nut very tight.

Then the woman promised to lead the children to the right path,that they might find their way home: and they went forward certainlyin quite another direction to the one they meant to take; therefore noone ought to speak against the woman, and say that she wanted to stealthe children. In the wild wood-path they met a forester who knew Ib,and, by his help, Ib and Christina reached home, where they foundevery one had been very anxious about them. They were pardoned andforgiven, although they really had both done wrong, and deserved toget into trouble; first, because they had let the sucking-pig fallinto the water; and, secondly, because they had run away. Christinawas taken back to her father's house on the heath, and Ib remainedin the farm-house on the borders of the wood, near the great landridge.

The first thing Ib did that evening was to take out of hispocket the little black nut, in which the best thing of all was saidto be enclosed. He laid it carefully between the door and thedoor-post, and then shut the door so that the nut cracked directly.But there was not much kernel to be seen; it was what we should callhollow or worm-eaten, and looked as if it had been filled with tobaccoor rich black earth. "It is just what I expected!" exclaimed Ib."How should there be room in a little nut like this for the best thingof all? Christina will find her two nuts just the same; there willbe neither fine clothes or a golden carriage in them."

Winter came; and the new year, and indeed many years passedaway; until Ib was old enough to be confirmed, and, therefore, he wentduring a whole winter to the clergyman of the nearest village to beprepared.

One day, about this time, the boatman paid a visit to Ib'sparents, and told them that Christina was going to service, and thatshe had been remarkably fortunate in obtaining a good place, with mostrespectable people. "Only think," he said, "She is going to the richinnkeeper's, at the hotel in Herning, many miles west from here. Sheis to assist the landlady in the housekeeping; and, if afterwardsshe behaves well and remains to be confirmed, the people will treather as their own daughter."

So Ib and Christina took leave of each other. People alreadycalled them "the betrothed," and at parting the girl showed Ib the twonuts, which she had taken care of ever since the time that they lostthemselves in the wood; and she told him also that the little woodenshoes he once carved for her when he was a boy, and gave her as apresent, had been carefully kept in a drawer ever since. And so theyparted.

After Ib's confirmation, he remained at home with his mother,for he had become a clever shoemaker, and in summer managed the farmfor her quite alone. His father had been dead some time, and hismother kept no farm servants. Sometimes, but very seldom, he heardof Christina, through a postillion or eel-seller who was passing.But she was well off with the rich innkeeper; and after beingconfirmed she wrote a letter to her father, in which was a kindmessage to Ib and his mother. In this letter, she mentioned that hermaster and mistress had made her a present of a beautiful new dress,and some nice under-clothes. This was, of course, pleasant news.

One day, in the following spring, there came a knock at the doorof the house where Ib's old mother lived; and when they opened it,lo and behold, in stepped the boatman and Christina. She had come topay them a visit, and to spend the day. A carriage had to come fromthe Herning hotel to the next village, and she had taken theopportunity to see her friends once more. She looked as elegant as areal lady, and wore a pretty dress, beautifully made on purpose forher. There she stood, in full dress, while Ib wore only his workingclothes. He could not utter a word; he could only seize her hand andhold it fast in his own, but he felt too happy and glad to open hislips. Christina, however, was quite at her ease; she talked andtalked, and kissed him in the most friendly manner. Even afterwards,when they were left alone, and she asked, "Did you know me again, Ib?"he still stood holding her hand, and said at last, "You are becomequite a grand lady, Christina, and I am only a rough working man;but I have often thought of you and of old times." Then theywandered up the great ridge, and looked across the stream to theheath, where the little hills were covered with the flowering broom.Ib said nothing; but before the time came for them to part, itbecame quite clear to him that Christina must be his wife: had theynot even in childhood been called the betrothed? To him it seemed asif they were really engaged to each other, although not a word hadbeen spoken on the subject. They had only a few more hours to remaintogether, for Christina was obliged to return that evening to theneighboring village, to be ready for the carriage which was to startthe next morning early for Herning. Ib and her father accompaniedher to the village. It was a fine moonlight evening; and when theyarrived, Ib stood holding Christina's hand in his, as if he couldnot let her go. His eyes brightened, and the words he uttered camewith hesitation from his lips, but from the deepest recesses of hisheart: "Christina, if you have not become too grand, and if you can becontented to live in my mother's house as my wife, we will bemarried some day. But we can wait for a while."

"Oh yes," she replied; "Let us wait a little longer, Ib. I cantrust you, for I believe that I do love you. But let me think itover." Then he kissed her lips; and so they parted.

On the way home, Ib told the boatman that he and Christina were asgood as engaged to each other; and the boatman found out that he hadalways expected it would be so, and went home with Ib that evening,and remained the night in the farmhouse; but nothing further wassaid of the engagement. During the next year, two letters passedbetween Ib and Christina. They were signed, "Faithful till death;" butat the end of that time, one day the boatman came over to see Ib, witha kind greeting from Christina. He had something else to say, whichmade him hesitate in a strange manner. At last it came out thatChristina, who had grown a very pretty girl, was more lucky than ever.She was courted and admired by every one; but her master's son, whohad been home on a visit, was so much pleased with Christina that hewished to marry her. He had a very good situation in an office atCopenhagen, and as she had also taken a liking for him, his parentswere not unwilling to consent. But Christina, in her heart, oftenthought of Ib, and knew how much he thought of her; so she feltinclined to refuse this good fortune, added the boatman. At first Ibsaid not a word, but he became as white as the wall, and shook hishead gently, and then he spoke,- "Christina must not refuse thisgood fortune."

"Then will you write a few words to her?" said the boatman.

Ib sat down to write, but he could not get on at all. The wordswere not what he wished to say, so he tore up the page. Thefollowing morning, however, a letter lay ready to be sent toChristina, and the following is what he wrote:-

"The letter written by you to your father I have read, and seefrom it that you are prosperous in everything, and that still betterfortune is in store for you. Ask your own heart, Christina, andthink over carefully what awaits you if you take me for yourhusband, for I possess very little in the world. Do not think of me orof my position; think only of your own welfare. You are bound to me byno promises; and if in your heart you have given me one, I release youfrom it. May every blessing and happiness be poured out upon you,Christina. Heaven will give me the heart's consolation.

Ever your sincere friend, IB."

This letter was sent, and Christina received it in due time. Inthe course of the following November, her banns were published inthe church on the heath, and also in Copenhagen, where thebridegroom lived. She was taken to Copenhagen under the protectionof her future mother-in-law, because the bridegroom could not sparetime from his numerous occupations for a journey so far intoJutland. On the journey, Christina met her father at one of thevillages through which they passed, and here he took leave of her.Very little was said about the matter to Ib, and he did not refer toit; his mother, however, noticed that he had grown very silent andpensive. Thinking as he did of old times, no wonder the three nutscame into his mind which the gypsy woman had given him when a child,and of the two which he had given to Christina. These wishing nuts,after all, had proved true fortune-tellers. One had contained a gildedcarriage and noble horses, and the other beautiful clothes; all ofthese Christina would now have in her new home at Copenhagen. Her parthad come true. And for him the nut had contained only black earth. Thegypsy woman had said it was the best for him. Perhaps it was, and thisalso would be fulfilled. He understood the gypsy woman's meaningnow. The black earth- the dark grave- was the best thing for him now.

Again years passed away; not many, but they seemed long years toIb. The old innkeeper and his wife died one after the other; and thewhole of their property, many thousand dollars, was inherited by theirson. Christina could have the golden carriage now, and plenty offine clothes. During the two long years which followed, no letter camefrom Christina to her father; and when at last her father received onefrom her, it did not speak of prosperity or happiness. Poor Christina!Neither she nor her husband understood how to economize or save, andthe riches brought no blessing with them, because they had not askedfor it.

Years passed; and for many summers the heath was covered withbloom; in winter the snow rested upon it, and the rough winds blewacross the ridge under which stood Ib's sheltered home. One spring daythe sun shone brightly, and he was guiding the plough across hisfield. The ploughshare struck against something which he fancied was afirestone, and then he saw glittering in the earth a splinter ofshining metal which the plough had cut from something which gleamedbrightly in the furrow. He searched, and found a large golden armletof superior workmanship, and it was evident that the plough haddisturbed a Hun's grave. He searched further, and found morevaluable treasures, which Ib showed to the clergyman, who explainedtheir value to him. Then he went to the magistrate, who informed thepresident of the museum of the discovery, and advised Ib to take thetreasures himself to the president.

"You have found in the earth the best thing you could find,"said the magistrate.

"The best thing," thought Ib; "the very best thing for me,- andfound in the earth! Well, if it really is so, then the gypsy woman wasright in her prophecy."

So Ib went in the ferry-boat from Aarhus to Copenhagen. To him whohad only sailed once or twice on the river near his own home, thisseemed like a voyage on the ocean; and at length he arrived atCopenhagen. The value of the gold he had found was paid to him; it wasa large sum- six hundred dollars. Then Ib of the heath went out, andwandered about in the great city.

On the evening before the day he had settled to return with thecaptain of the passage-boat, Ib lost himself in the streets, andtook quite a different turning to the one he wished to follow. Hewandered on till he found himself in a poor street of the suburbcalled Christian's Haven. Not a creature could be seen. At last a verylittle girl came out of one of the wretched-looking houses, and Ibasked her to tell him the way to the street he wanted; she looked uptimidly at him, and began to cry bitterly. He asked her what was thematter; but what she said he could not understand. So he went alongthe street with her; and as they passed under a lamp, the light fellon the little girl's face. A strange sensation came over Ib, as hecaught sight of it. The living, breathing embodiment of LittleChristina stood before him, just as he remembered her in the days ofher childhood. He followed the child to the wretched house, andascended the narrow, crazy staircase which led to a little garret inthe roof. The air in the room was heavy and stifling, no light wasburning, and from one corner came sounds of moaning and sighing. Itwas the mother of the child who lay there on a miserable bed. With thehelp of a match, Ib struck a light, and approached her.

"Can I be of any service to you?" he asked. "This little girlbrought me up here; but I am a stranger in this city. Are there noneighbors or any one whom I can call?"

Then he raised the head of the sick woman, and smoothed herpillow. He started as he did so. It was Christina of the heath! No onehad mentioned her name to Ib for years; it would have disturbed hispeace of mind, especially as the reports respecting her were not good.The wealth which her husband had inherited from his parents had madehim proud and arrogant. He had given up his certain appointment, andtravelled for six months in foreign lands, and, on his return, hadlived in great style, and got into terrible debt. For a time he hadtrembled on the high pedestal on which he had placed himself, tillat last he toppled over, and ruin came. His numerous merry companions,and the visitors at his table, said it served him right, for he hadkept house like a madman. One morning his corpse was found in thecanal. The cold hand of death had already touched the heart ofChristina. Her youngest child, looked for in the midst ofprosperity, had sunk into the grave when only a few weeks old; andat last Christina herself became sick unto death, and lay, forsakenand dying, in a miserable room, amid poverty she might have borne inher younger days, but which was now more painful to her from theluxuries to which she had lately been accustomed. It was her eldestchild, also a Little Christina, whom Ib had followed to her home,where she suffered hunger and poverty with her mother.

It makes me unhappy to think that I shall die, and leave this poorchild," sighed she. "Oh, what will become of her?" She could say nomore.

Then Ib brought out another match, and lighted a piece of candlewhich he found in the room, and it threw a glimmering light over thewretched dwelling. Ib looked at the little girl, and thought ofChristina in her young days. For her sake, could he not love thischild, who was a stranger to him? As he thus reflected, the dyingwoman opened her eyes, and gazed at him. Did she recognize him? Henever knew; for not another word escaped her lips.

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In the forest by the river Gudenau, not far from the heath, andbeneath the ridge of land, stood the little farm, newly painted andwhitewashed. The air was heavy and dark; there were no blossoms on theheath; the autumn winds whirled the yellow leaves towards theboatman's hut, in which strangers dwelt; but the little farm stoodsafely sheltered beneath the tall trees and the high ridge. The turfblazed brightly on the hearth, and within was sunlight, thesparkling light from the sunny eyes of a child; the birdlike tonesfrom the rosy lips ringing like the song of a lark in spring. Allwas life and joy. Little Christina sat on Ib's knee. Ib was to herboth father and mother; her own parents had vanished from hermemory, as a dream-picture vanishes alike from childhood and age. Ib'shouse was well and prettily furnished; for he was a prosperous mannow, while the mother of the little girl rested in the churchyard atCopenhagen, where she had died in poverty. Ib had money now- moneywhich had come to him out of the black earth; and he had Christina forhis own, after all.

THE END.

1872

FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

IN A THOUSAND YEARS

by Hans Christian Andersen

YES, in a thousand years people will fly on the wings of steamthrough the air, over the ocean! The young inhabitants of America willbecome visitors of old Europe. They will come over to see themonuments and the great cities, which will then be in ruins, just aswe in our time make pilgrimages to the tottering splendors of SouthernAsia. In a thousand years they will come!

The Thames, the Danube, and the Rhine still roll their course,Mont Blanc stands firm with its snow-capped summit, and the NorthernLights gleam over the land of the North; but generation aftergeneration has become dust, whole rows of the mighty of the moment areforgotten, like those who already slumber under the hill on whichthe rich trader, whose ground it is, has built a bench, on which hecan sit and look out across his waving corn fields.

"To Europe!" cry the young sons of America; "to the land of ourancestors, the glorious land of monuments and fancy- to Europe!"

The ship of the air comes. It is crowded with passengers, forthe transit is quicker than by sea. The electro-magnetic wire underthe ocean has already telegraphed the number of the aerial caravan.Europe is in sight. It is the coast of Ireland that they see, butthe passengers are still asleep; they will not be called till they areexactly over England. There they will first step on European shore, inthe land of Shakespeare, as the educated call it; in the land ofpolitics, the land of machines, as it is called by others.

Here they stay a whole day. That is all the time the busy race candevote to the whole of England and Scotland. Then the journey iscontinued through the tunnel under the English Channel, to France, theland of Charlemagne and Napoleon. Moliere is named, the learned mentalk of the classic school of remote antiquity. There is rejoicing andshouting for the names of heroes, poets, and men of science, whomour time does not know, but who will be born after our time inParis, the centre of Europe, and elsewhere.

The air steamboat flies over the country whence Columbus wentforth, where Cortez was born, and where Calderon sang dramas insounding verse. Beautiful black-eyed women live still in theblooming valleys, and the oldest songs speak of the Cid and theAlhambra.

Then through the air, over the sea, to Italy, where once layold, everlasting Rome. It has vanished! The Campagna lies desert. Asingle ruined wall is shown as the remains of St. Peter's, but thereis a doubt if this ruin be genuine.

Next to Greece, to sleep a night in the grand hotel at the topof Mount Olympus, to say that they have been there; and the journey iscontinued to the Bosphorus, to rest there a few hours, and see theplace where Byzantium lay; and where the legend tells that the haremstood in the time of the Turks, poor fishermen are now spreading theirnets.

Over the remains of mighty cities on the broad Danube, citieswhich we in our time know not, the travellers pass; but here andthere, on the rich sites of those that time shall bring forth, thecaravan sometimes descends, and departs thence again.

Down below lies Germany, that was once covered with a close net ofrailway and canals, the region where Luther spoke, where Goethesang, and Mozart once held the sceptre of harmony. Great names shinethere, in science and in art, names that are unknown to us. One daydevoted to seeing Germany, and one for the North, the country ofOersted and Linnaeus, and for Norway, the land of the old heroes andthe young Normans. Iceland is visited on the journey home. The geysersburn no more, Hecla is an extinct volcano, but the rocky island isstill fixed in the midst of the foaming sea, a continual monument oflegend and poetry.

"There is really a great deal to be seen in Europe," says theyoung American, "and we have seen it in a week, according to thedirections of the great traveller" (and here he mentions the name ofone of his contemporaries) "in his celebrated work, 'How to See AllEurope in a Week.'"

THE END.

1872

FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

IN THE NURSERY

by Hans Christian Andersen

FATHER, and mother, and brothers, and sisters, were gone to theplay; only little Anna and her grandpapa were left at home.

"We'll have a play too," he said, "and it may begin immediately."

"But we have no theatre," cried little Anna, "and we have no oneto act for us; my old doll cannot, for she is a fright, and my new onecannot, for she must not rumple her new clothes."

"One can always get actors if one makes use of what one has,"observed grandpapa.

"Now we'll go into the theatre. Here we will put up a book,there another, and there a third, in a sloping row. Now three on theother side; so, now we have the side scenes. The old box that liesyonder may be the back stairs; and we'll lay the flooring on top ofit. The stage represents a room, as every one may see. Now we want theactors. Let us see what we can find in the plaything-box. First thepersonages, and then we will get the play ready. One after theother; that will be capital! Here's a pipe-head, and yonder an oddglove; they will do very well for father and daughter."

"But those are only two characters," said little Anna. "Here'smy brother's old waistcoat- could not that play in our piece, too?"

"It's big enough, certainly," replied grandpapa. "It shall bethe lover. There's nothing in the pockets, and that's veryinteresting, for that's half of an unfortunate attachment. And here wehave the nut-cracker's boots, with spurs to them. Row, dow, dow! howthey can stamp and strut! They shall represent the unwelcome wooer,whom the lady does not like. What kind of a play will you have now?Shall it be a tragedy, or a domestic drama?"

"A domestic drama, please," said little Anna, "for the othersare so fond of that. Do you know one?"

"I know a hundred," said grandpapa. "Those that are most infavor are from the French, but they are not good for little girls.In the meantime, we may take one of the prettiest, for insidethey're all very much alike. Now I shake the pen! Cock-a-lorum! Sonow, here's the play, brin-bran-span new! Now listen to theplay-bill."

And grandpapa took a newspaper, and read as if he were readingfrom it:

THE PIPE-HEAD AND THE GOOD HEAD

A Family Drama in One Act

CHARACTERS

MR. PIPE-HEAD, a father.

MR. WAISTCOAT, a lover.

MISS GLOVE, a daughter.

MR. DE BOOTS, a suitor.

"And now we're going to begin. The curtain rises. We have nocurtain, so it has risen already. All the characters are there, and sowe have them at hand. Now I speak as Papa Pipe-head! He's angryto-day. One can see that he's a colored meerschaum.

"'Snik, snak, snurre, bassellurre! I'm master of this house! I'mthe father of my daughter! Will you hear what I have to say? Mr. deBoots is a person in whom one may see one's face; his upper part is ofmorocco, and he has spurs into the bargain. Snikke, snakke, snak! Heshall have my daughter!"

"Now listen to what the Waistcoat says, little Anna," saidgrandpapa. "Now the Waistcoat's speaking. The Waistcoat has alaydown collar, and is very modest; but he knows his own value, andhas quite a right to say what he says:

"'I haven't a spot on me! Goodness of material ought to beappreciated. I am of real silk, and have strings to me.'

"'- On the wedding day, but no longer; you don't keep your colorin the wash.' This is Mr. Pipe-head who is speaking. 'Mr. de Bootsis water-tight, of strong leather, and yet very delicate; he cancreak, and clank with his spurs, and has an Italian physiognomy-'"

"But they ought to speak in verses," said Anna, "for I've heardthat's the most charming way of all."

"They can do that too," replied grandpapa; "and if the publicdemands it, they will talk in that way. Just look at little MissGlove, how she's pointing her fingers!

"'Could I but have my love,

Who then so happy as Glove!

Ah!

If I from him must part,

I'm sure 'twill break my heart!'

'Bah!'The last word was spoken by Mr. Pipe-head; and now it's Mr.Waistcoat's turn:

"'O Glove, my own dear,

Though it cost thee a tear,

Thou must be mine,

For Holger Danske has sworn it!'

"Mr. de Boots, hearing this, kicks up, jingles his spurs, andknocks down three of the side-scenes."

"That's exceedingly charming!" cried little Anna.

"Silence! silence!" said grandpapa. "Silent approbation willshow that you are the educated public in the stalls. Now Miss Glovesings her great song with startling effects:

"'I can't see, heigho!

And therefore I'll crow!

Kikkeriki, in the lofty hall!'

"Now comes the exciting part, little Anna. This is the mostimportant in all the play. Mr. Waistcoat undoes himself, and addresseshis speech to you, that you may applaud; but leave it alone,- that'sconsidered more genteel.

"'I am driven to extremities! Take care of yourself! Now comes theplot! You are the Pipe-head, and I am the good head- snap! there yougo!"

"Do you notice this, little Anna?" asked grandpapa. "That's a mostcharming comedy. Mr. Waistcoat seized the old Pipe-head and put him inhis pocket; there he lies, and the Waistcoat says:

"'You are in my pocket; you can't come out till you promise tounite me to your daughter Glove on the left. I hold out my righthand.'"

"That's awfully pretty," said little Anna.

"And now the old Pipe-head replies:

"'Though I'm all ear,

Very stupid I appear:

Where's my humor? Gone, I fear,

And I feel my hollow stick's not here,

Ah! never, my dear,

Did I feel so queer.

Oh! pray let me out,

And like a lamb led to slaughter

I'll betroth you, no doubt,

To my daughter.'"

"Is the play over already?" asked little Anna.

"By no means," replied grandpapa. "It's only all over with Mr.de Boots. Now the lovers kneel down, and one of them sings:

"'Father!'and the other,

'Come, do as you ought to do,-

Bless your son and daughter.'And they receive his blessing, and celebrate their wedding, and allthe pieces of furniture sing in chorus,

"'Klink! clanks!

A thousand thanks;

And now the play is over!'

"And now we'll applaud," said grandpapa. "We'll call them all out,and the pieces of furniture too, for they are of mahogany."

"And is not our play just as good as those which the others havein the real theatre?"

"Our play is much better," said grandpapa. "It is shorter, theperformers are natural, and it has passed away the interval beforetea-time."

THE END.

1872

FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

IN THE UTTERMOST PARTS OF THE SEA

by Hans Christian Andersen

SOME years ago, large ships were sent towards the north pole, toexplore the distant coasts, and to try how far men could penetrateinto those unknown regions. For more than a year one of these shipshad been pushing its way northward, amid snow and ice, and the sailorshad endured many hardships; till at length winter set in, and thesun entirely disappeared; for many weeks there would be constantnight. All around, as far as the eye could reach, nothing could beseen but fields of ice, in which the ship remained stuck fast. Thesnow lay piled up in great heaps, and of these the sailors madehuts, in the form of bee-hives, some of them as large and spaciousas one of the "Huns' graves," and others only containing room enoughto hold three or four men. It was not quite dark; the northernlights shot forth red and blue flames, like continuous fireworks,and the snow glittered, and reflected back the light, so that thenight here was one long twilight. When the moon was brightest, thenatives came in crowds to see the sailors. They had a very singularappearance in their rough, hairy dresses of fur, and riding in sledgesover the ice. They brought with them furs and skins in greatabundance, so that the snow-houses were soon provided with warmcarpets, and the furs also served for the sailors to wrap themselvesin, when they slept under the roofs of snow, while outside it wasfreezing with a cold far more severe than in the winter with us. Inour country it was still autumn, though late in the season; and theythought of that in their distant exile, and often pictured tothemselves the yellow leaves on the trees at home. Their watchespointed to the hours of evening, and time to go to sleep, althoughin these regions it was now always night.

In one of the huts, two of the men laid themselves down to rest.The younger of these men had brought with him from home his best,his dearest treasure- a Bible, which his grandmother had given himon his departure. Every night the sacred volume rested under his head,and he had known from his childhood what was written in it. Everyday he read in the book, and while stretched on his cold couch, theholy words he had learnt would come into his mind: "If I take thewings of the morning, and fly to the uttermost parts of the sea,even there Thou art with me, and Thy right hand shall uphold me;"and under the influence of that faith which these holy words inspired,sleep came upon him, and dreams, which are the manifestations of Godto the spirit. The soul lives and acts, while the body is at rest.He felt this life in him, and it was as if he heard the sound of dear,well-known melodies, as if the breezes of summer floated around him;and over his couch shone a ray of brightness, as if it were shiningthrough the covering of his snow-roof. He lifted his head, and sawthat the bright gleaming was not the reflection of the glitteringsnow, but the dazzling brightness of the pinions of a mighty angel,into whose beaming face he was gazing. As from the cup of a lily,the angel rose from amidst the leaves of the Bible; and, stretchingout his arm, the walls of the hut sunk down, as though they had beenformed of a light, airy veil of mist, and the green hills andmeadows of home, with its ruddy woods, lay spread around him in thequiet sunshine of a lovely autumn day. The nest of the stork wasempty, but ripe fruit still hung on the wild apple-tree, althoughthe leaves had fallen. The red hips gleamed on the hedges, and thestarling which hung in the green cage outside the window of thepeasant's hut, which was his home, whistled the tune which he hadtaught him. His grandmother hung green birds'-food around the cage, ashe, her grandson, had been accustomed to do. The daughter of thevillage blacksmith, who was young and fair, stood at the well, drawingwater. She nodded to the grandmother, and the old woman nodded to her,and pointed to a letter which had come from a long way off. Thatvery morning the letter had arrived from the cold regions of thenorth; there, where the absent one was sweetly sleeping under theprotecting hand of God. They laughed and wept over the letter; and he,far away, amid ice and snow, under the shadow of the angel's wings,wept and smiled with them in spirit; for he saw and heard it all inhis dream. From the letter they read aloud the words of Holy Writ: "Inthe uttermost parts of the sea, Thy right hand shall uphold me." Andas the angel spread his wings like a veil over the sleeper, therewas the sound of beautiful music and a hymn. Then the vision fled.It was dark again in the snow-hut: but the Bible still restedbeneath his head, and faith and hope dwelt in his heart. God waswith him, and he carried home in his heart, even "in the uttermostparts of the sea.

THE END.

1872

FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

JACK THE DULLARD

AN OLD STORY TOLD ANEW

by Hans Christian Andersen

FAR in the interior of the country lay an old baronial hall, andin it lived an old proprietor, who had two sons, which two young menthought themselves too clever by half. They wanted to go out and woothe King's daughter; for the maiden in question had publicly announcedthat she would choose for her husband that youth who could arrange hiswords best.

So these two geniuses prepared themselves a full week for thewooing- this was the longest time that could be granted them; but itwas enough, for they had had much preparatory information, andeverybody knows how useful that is. One of them knew the whole Latindictionary by heart, and three whole years of the daily paper of thelittle town into the bargain, and so well, indeed, that he couldrepeat it all either backwards or forwards, just as he chose. Theother was deeply read in the corporation laws, and knew by heartwhat every corporation ought to know; and accordingly he thought hecould talk of affairs of state, and put his spoke in the wheel inthe council. And he knew one thing more: he could embroider suspenderswith roses and other flowers, and with arabesques, for he was a tasty,light-fingered fellow.

"I shall win the Princess!" So cried both of them. Therefore theirold papa gave to each of them a handsome horse. The youth who knew thedictionary and newspaper by heart had a black horse, and he who knewall about the corporation laws received a milk-white steed. Thenthey rubbed the corners of their mouths with fish-oil, so that theymight become very smooth and glib. All the servants stood below in thecourtyard, and looked on while they mounted their horses; and justby chance the third son came up. For the proprietor had really threesons, though nobody counted the third with his brothers, because hewas not so learned as they, and indeed he was generally known as "Jackthe Dullard."

"Hallo!" said Jack the Dullard, "where are you going? I declareyou have put on your Sunday clothes!"

"We're going to the King's court, as suitors to the King'sdaughter. Don't you know the announcement that has been made allthrough the country?" And they told him all about it.

"My word! I'll be in it too!" cried Jack the Dullard; and histwo brothers burst out laughing at him, and rode away.

"Father, dear," said Jack, "I must have a horse too. I do feelso desperately inclined to marry! If she accepts me, she accepts me;and if she won't have me, I'll have her; but she shall be mine!"

"Don't talk nonsense," replied the old gentleman. "You shallhave no horse from me. You don't know how to speak- you can'tarrange your words. Your brothers are very different fellows fromyou."

"Well," quoth Jack the Dullard, "If I can't have a horse, I'lltake the Billy-goat, who belongs to me, and he can carry me verywell!"

And so said, so done. He mounted the Billy-goat, pressed his heelsinto its sides, and galloped down the high street like a hurricane.

"Hei, houp! that was a ride! Here I come!" shouted Jack theDullard, and he sang till his voice echoed far and wide.

But his brothers rode slowly on in advance of him. They spokenot a word, for they were thinking about the fine extempore speechesthey would have to bring out, and these had to be cleverly preparedbeforehand.

"Hallo!" shouted Jack the Dullard. "Here am I! Look what I havefound on the high road." And he showed them what it was, and it wasa dead crow.

"Dullard!" exclaimed the brothers, "what are you going to dowith that?"

"With the crow? why, I am going to give it to the Princess."

"Yes, do so," said they; and they laughed, and rode on.

"Hallo, here I am again! just see what I have found now: you don'tfind that on the high road every day!"

And the brothers turned round to see what he could have found now.

"Dullard!" they cried, "that is only an old wooden shoe, and theupper part is missing into the bargain; are you going to give thatalso to the Princess?"

"Most certainly I shall," replied Jack the Dullard; and againthe brothers laughed and rode on, and thus they got far in advanceof him; but-

"Hallo- hop rara!" and there was Jack the Dullard again. "It isgetting better and better," he cried. "Hurrah! it is quite famous."

"Why, what have you found this time?" inquired the brothers.

"Oh," said Jack the Dullard, "I can hardly tell you. How gladthe Princess will be!"

"Bah!" said the brothers; "that is nothing but clay out of theditch."

"Yes, certainly it is," said Jack the Dullard; "and clay of thefinest sort. See, it is so wet, it runs through one's fingers." And hefilled his pocket with the clay.

But his brothers galloped on till the sparks flew, andconsequently they arrived a full hour earlier at the town gate thancould Jack. Now at the gate each suitor was provided with a number,and all were placed in rows immediately on their arrival, six ineach row, and so closely packed together that they could not movetheir arms; and that was a prudent arrangement, for they wouldcertainly have come to blows, had they been able, merely because oneof them stood before the other.

All the inhabitants of the country round about stood in greatcrowds around the castle, almost under the very windows, to see thePrincess receive the suitors; and as each stepped into the hall, hispower of speech seemed to desert him, like the light of a candlethat is blown out. Then the Princess would say, "He is of no use! Awaywith him out of the hall!"

At last the turn came for that brother who knew the dictionaryby heart; but he did not know it now; he had absolutely forgotten italtogether; and the boards seemed to re-echo with his footsteps, andthe ceiling of the hall was made of looking-glass, so that he sawhimself standing on his head; and at the window stood three clerks anda head clerk, and every one of them was writing down every single wordthat was uttered, so that it might be printed in the newspapers, andsold for a penny at the street corners. It was a terrible ordeal,and they had, moreover, made such a fire in the stove, that the roomseemed quite red hot.

"It is dreadfully hot here!" observed the first brother.

"Yes," replied the Princess, "my father is going to roast youngpullets today."

"Baa!" there he stood like a baa-lamb. He had not been preparedfor a speech of this kind, and had not a word to say, though heintended to say something witty. "Baa!"

"He is of no use!" said the Princess. "Away with him!"

And he was obliged to go accordingly. And now the second brothercame in.

"It is terribly warm here!" he observed.

"Yes, we're roasting pullets to-day," replied the Princess.

"What- what were you- were you pleased to ob-" stammered he- andall the clerks wrote down, "pleased to ob-"

"He is of no use!" said the Princess. "Away with him!"

Now came the turn of Jack the Dullard. He rode into the hall onhis goat.

"Well, it's most abominably hot here."

"Yes, because I'm roasting young pullets," replied the Princess.

"Ah, that's lucky!" exclaimed Jack the Dullard, "for I supposeyou'll let me roast my crow at the same time?"

"With the greatest pleasure," said the Princess. "But have youanything you can roast it in? for I have neither pot nor pan."

"Certainly I have!" said Jack. "Here's a cooking utensil with atin handle."

And he brought out the old wooden shoe, and put the crow into it.

"Well, that is a famous dish!" said the Princess. "But whatshall we do for sauce?"

"Oh, I have that in my pocket," said Jack; "I have so much of itthat I can afford to throw some away;" and he poured some of theclay out of his pocket.

"I like that!" said the Princess. "You can give an answer, and youhave something to say for yourself, and so you shall be my husband.But are you aware that every word we speak is being taken down, andwill be published in the paper to-morrow? Look yonder, and you willsee in every window three clerks and a head clerk; and the old headclerk is the worst of all, for he can't understand anything."

But she only said this to frighten Jack the Dullard; and theclerks gave a great crow of delight, and each one spurted a blot outof his pen on to the floor.

"Oh, those are the gentlemen, are they?" said Jack; "then I willgive the best I have to the head clerk." And he turned out hispockets, and flung the wet clay full in the head clerk's face.

"That was very cleverly done," observed the Princess. "I could nothave done that; but I shall learn in time."

And accordingly Jack the Dullard was made a king, and received acrown and a wife, and sat upon a throne. And this report we have wetfrom the press of the head clerk and the corporation of printers-but they are not to be depended upon in the least.

THE END.

1872

FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

LITTLE CLAUS AND BIG CLAUS

by Hans Christian Andersen

IN a village there once lived two men who had the same name.They were both called Claus. One of them had four horses, but theother had only one; so to distinguish them, people called the owner ofthe four horses, "Great Claus," and he who had only one, "LittleClaus." Now we shall hear what happened to them, for this is a truestory.

Through the whole week, Little Claus was obliged to plough forGreat Claus, and lend him his one horse; and once a week, on a Sunday,Great Claus lent him all his four horses. Then how Little Clauswould smack his whip over all five horses, they were as good as hisown on that one day. The sun shone brightly, and the church bells wereringing merrily as the people passed by, dressed in their bestclothes, with their prayer-books under their arms. They were goingto hear the clergyman preach. They looked at Little Claus ploughingwith his five horses, and he was so proud that he smacked his whip,and said, "Gee-up, my five horses."

"You must not say that," said Big Claus; "for only one of thembelongs to you." But Little Claus soon forgot what he ought to say,and when any one passed he would call out, "Gee-up, my five horses!"

"Now I must beg you not to say that again," said Big Claus; "forif you do, I shall hit your horse on the head, so that he will dropdead on the spot, and there will be an end of him."

"I promise you I will not say it any more," said the other; but assoon as people came by, nodding to him, and wishing him "Good day," hebecame so pleased, and thought how grand it looked to have five horsesploughing in his field, that he cried out again, "Gee-up, all myhorses!"

"I'll gee-up your horses for you," said Big Claus; and seizing ahammer, he struck the one horse of Little Claus on the head, and hefell dead instantly.

"Oh, now I have no horse at all, said Little Claus, weeping. Butafter a while he took off the dead horse's skin, and hung the hideto dry in the wind. Then he put the dry skin into a bag, and,placing it over his shoulder, went out into the next town to sellthe horse's skin. He had a very long way to go, and had to passthrough a dark, gloomy forest. Presently a storm arose, and he losthis way, and before he discovered the right path, evening came on, andit was still a long way to the town, and too far to return home beforenight. Near the road stood a large farmhouse. The shutters outside thewindows were closed, but lights shone through the crevices at the top."I might get permission to stay here for the night," thought LittleClaus; so he went up to the door and knocked. The farmer's wife openedthe door; but when she heard what he wanted, she told him to goaway, as her husband would not allow her to admit strangers. "Then Ishall be obliged to lie out here," said Little Claus to himself, asthe farmer's wife shut the door in his face. Near to the farmhousestood a large haystack, and between it and the house was a small shed,with a thatched roof. "I can lie up there," said Little Claus, as hesaw the roof; "it will make a famous bed, but I hope the stork willnot fly down and bite my legs;" for on it stood a living stork,whose nest was in the roof. So Little Claus climbed to the roof of theshed, and while he turned himself to get comfortable, he discoveredthat the wooden shutters, which were closed, did not reach to the topsof the windows of the farmhouse, so that he could see into a room,in which a large table was laid out with wine, roast meat, and asplendid fish. The farmer's wife and the sexton were sitting at thetable together; and she filled his glass, and helped him plenteouslyto fish, which appeared to be his favorite dish. "If I could onlyget some, too," thought Little Claus; and then, as he stretched hisneck towards the window he spied a large, beautiful pie,- indeedthey had a glorious feast before them.

At this moment he heard some one riding down the road, towards thefarmhouse. It was the farmer returning home. He was a good man, butstill he had a very strange prejudice,- he could not bear the sight ofa sexton. If one appeared before him, he would put himself in aterrible rage. In consequence of this dislike, the sexton had goneto visit the farmer's wife during her husband's absence from home, andthe good woman had placed before him the best she had in the houseto eat. When she heard the farmer coming she was frightened, andbegged the sexton to hide himself in a large empty chest that stood inthe room. He did so, for he knew her husband could not endure thesight of a sexton. The woman then quickly put away the wine, and hidall the rest of the nice things in the oven; for if her husband hadseen them he would have asked what they were brought out for.

"Oh, dear," sighed Little Claus from the top of the shed, as hesaw all the good things disappear.

"Is any one up there?" asked the farmer, looking up anddiscovering Little Claus. "Why are you lying up there? Come down,and come into the house with me." So Little Claus came down and toldthe farmer how he had lost his way and begged for a night's lodging.

"All right," said the farmer; "but we must have something to eatfirst."

The woman received them both very kindly, laid the cloth on alarge table, and placed before them a dish of porridge. The farmer wasvery hungry, and ate his porridge with a good appetite, but LittleClaus could not help thinking of the nice roast meat, fish and pies,which he knew were in the oven. Under the table, at his feet, laythe sack containing the horse's skin, which he intended to sell at thenext town. Now Little Claus did not relish the porridge at all, sohe trod with his foot on the sack under the table, and the dry skinsqueaked quite loud. "Hush!" said Little Claus to his sack, at thesame time treading upon it again, till it squeaked louder than before.

"Hallo! what have you got in your sack!" asked the farmer.

"Oh, it is a conjuror," said Little Claus; "and he says we neednot eat porridge, for he has conjured the oven full of roast meat,fish, and pie."

"Wonderful!" cried the farmer, starting up and opening the ovendoor; and there lay all the nice things hidden by the farmer's wife,but which he supposed had been conjured there by the wizard underthe table. The woman dared not say anything; so she placed thethings before them, and they both ate of the fish, the meat, and thepastry.

Then Little Claus trod again upon his sack, and it squeaked asbefore. "What does he say now?" asked the farmer.

"He says," replied Little Claus, "that there are three bottlesof wine for us, standing in the corner, by the oven."

So the woman was obliged to bring out the wine also, which she hadhidden, and the farmer drank it till he became quite merry. He wouldhave liked such a conjuror as Little Claus carried in his sack. "Couldhe conjure up the evil one?" asked the farmer. "I should like to seehim now, while I am so merry."

"Oh, yes!" replied Little Claus, "my conjuror can do anything Iask him,- can you not?" he asked, treading at the same time on thesack till it squeaked. "Do you hear? he answers 'Yes,' but he fearsthat we shall not like to look at him."

"Oh, I am not afraid. What will he be like?"

"Well, he is very much like a sexton."

"Ha!" said the farmer, "then he must be ugly. Do you know I cannotendure the sight of a sexton. However, that doesn't matter, I shallknow who it is; so I shall not mind. Now then, I have got up mycourage, but don't let him come too near me."

"Stop, I must ask the conjuror," said Little Claus; so he trodon the bag, and stooped his ear down to listen.

"What does he say?"

"He says that you must go and open that large chest which standsin the corner, and you will see the evil one crouching down inside;but you must hold the lid firmly, that he may not slip out."

"Will you come and help me hold it?" said the farmer, goingtowards the chest in which his wife had hidden the sexton, who now layinside, very much frightened. The farmer opened the lid a verylittle way, and peeped in.

"Oh," cried he, springing backwards, "I saw him, and he is exactlylike our sexton. How dreadful it is!" So after that he was obligedto drink again, and they sat and drank till far into the night.

"You must sell your conjuror to me," said the farmer; "ask as muchas you like, I will pay it; indeed I would give you directly a wholebushel of gold."

"No, indeed, I cannot," said Little Claus; "only think how muchprofit I could make out of this conjuror."

"But I should like to have him," said the fanner, still continuinghis entreaties.

"Well," said Little Claus at length, "you have been so good asto give me a night's lodging, I will not refuse you; you shall havethe conjuror for a bushel of money, but I will have quite fullmeasure."

"So you shall," said the farmer; "but you must take away the chestas well. I would not have it in the house another hour; there is noknowing if he may not be still there."

So Little Claus gave the farmer the sack containing the driedhorse's skin, and received in exchange a bushel of money- fullmeasure. The farmer also gave him a wheelbarrow on which to carry awaythe chest and the gold.

"Farewell," said Little Claus, as he went off with his money andthe great chest, in which the sexton lay still concealed. On oneside of the forest was a broad, deep river, the water flowed sorapidly that very few were able to swim against the stream. A newbridge had lately been built across it, and in the middle of thisbridge Little Claus stopped, and said, loud enough to be heard bythe sexton, "Now what shall I do with this stupid chest; it is asheavy as if it were full of stones: I shall be tired if I roll itany farther, so I may as well throw it in the river; if it swims afterme to my house, well and good, and if not, it will not much matter."

So he seized the chest in his hand and lifted it up a little, asif he were going to throw it into the water.

"No, leave it alone," cried the sexton from within the chest; "letme out first."

"Oh," exclaimed Little Claus, pretending to be frightened, "heis in there still, is he? I must throw him into the river, that he maybe drowned."

"Oh, no; oh, no," cried the sexton; "I will give you a wholebushel full of money if you will let me go.

"Why, that is another matter," said Little Claus, opening thechest. The sexton crept out, pushed the empty chest into the water,and went to his house, then he measured out a whole bushel full ofgold for Little Claus, who had already received one from the farmer,so that now he had a barrow full.

"I have been well paid for my horse," said he to himself when hereached home, entered his own room, and emptied all his money into aheap on the floor. "How vexed Great Claus will be when he finds outhow rich I have become all through my one horse; but I shall nottell him exactly how it all happened." Then he sent a boy to GreatClaus to borrow a bushel measure.

"What can he want it for?" thought Great Claus; so he smearedthe bottom of the measure with tar, that some of whatever was put intoit might stick there and remain. And so it happened; for when themeasure returned, three new silver florins were sticking to it.

"What does this mean?" said Great Claus; so he ran off directly toLittle Claus, and asked, "Where did you get so much money?"

"Oh, for my horse's skin, I sold it yesterday."

"It was certainly well paid for then," said Great Claus; and heran home to his house, seized a hatchet, and knocked all his fourhorses on the head, flayed off their skins, and took them to thetown to sell. "Skins, skins, who'll buy skins?" he cried, as he wentthrough the streets. All the shoemakers and tanners came running,and asked how much he wanted for them.

"A bushel of money, for each," replied Great Claus.

"Are you mad?" they all cried; "do you think we have money tospend by the bushel?"

"Skins, skins," he cried again, "who'll buy skins?" but to all whoinquired the price, his answer was, "a bushel of money."

"He is making fools of us," said they all; then the shoemakerstook their straps, and the tanners their leather aprons, and beganto beat Great Claus.

"Skins, skins!" they cried, mocking him; "yes, we'll mark yourskin for you, till it is black and blue."

"Out of the town with him," said they. And Great Claus was obligedto run as fast as he could, he had never before been so thoroughlybeaten.

"Ah," said he, as he came to his house; "Little Claus shall pay mefor this; I will beat him to death."

Meanwhile the old grandmother of Little Claus died. She had beencross, unkind, and really spiteful to him; but he was very sorry,and took the dead woman and laid her in his warm bed to see if hecould bring her to life again. There he determined that she should liethe whole night, while he seated himself in a chair in a corner of theroom as he had often done before. During the night, as he sat there,the door opened, and in came Great Claus with a hatchet. He knewwell where Little Claus's bed stood; so he went right up to it, andstruck the old grandmother on the head. thinking it must be LittleClaus.

"There," cried he, "now you cannot make a fool of me again;" andthen he went home.

"That is a very wicked man," thought Little Claus; "he meant tokill me. It is a good thing for my old grandmother that she wasalready dead, or he would have taken her life." Then he dressed hisold grandmother in her best clothes, borrowed a horse of his neighbor,and harnessed it to a cart. Then he placed the old woman on the backseat, so that she might not fall out as he drove, and rode awaythrough the wood. By sunrise they reached a large inn, where LittleClaus stopped and went to get something to eat. The landlord was arich man, and a good man too; but as passionate as if he had been madeof pepper and snuff.

"Good morning," said he to Little Claus; "you are come betimesto-day."

"Yes," said Little Claus; "I am going to the town with my oldgrandmother; she is sitting at the back of the wagon, but I cannotbring her into the room. Will you take her a glass of mead? but youmust speak very loud, for she cannot hear well."

"Yes, certainly I will," replied the landlord; and, pouring outa glass of mead, he carried it out to the dead grandmother, who satupright in the cart. "Here is a glass of mead from your grandson,"said the landlord. The dead woman did not answer a word, but sat quitestill. "Do you not hear?" cried the landlord as loud as he could;"here is a glass of mead from your grandson."

Again and again he bawled it out, but as she did not stir heflew into a passion, and threw the glass of mead in her face; itstruck her on the nose, and she fell backwards out of the cart, forshe was only seated there, not tied in.

Hallo!" cried Little Claus, rushing out of the door, and seizinghold of the landlord by the throat; "you have killed my grandmother;see, here is a great hole in her forehead."

"Oh, how unfortunate," said the landlord, wringing his hands."This all comes of my fiery temper. Dear Little Claus, I will give youa bushel of money; I will bury your grandmother as if she were my own;only keep silent, or else they will cut off my head, and that would bedisagreeable."

So it happened that Little Claus received another bushel of money,and the landlord buried his old grandmother as if she had been hisown. When Little Claus reached home again, he immediately sent a boyto Great Claus, requesting him to lend him a bushel measure. "How isthis?" thought Great Claus; "did I not kill him? I must go and see formyself." So he went to Little Claus, and took the bushel measurewith him. "How did you get all this money?" asked Great Claus, staringwith wide open eyes at his neighbor's treasures.

"You killed my grandmother instead of me," said Little Claus;"so I have sold her for a bushel of money."

"That is a good price at all events," said Great Claus. So he wenthome, took a hatchet, and killed his old grandmother with one blow.Then he placed her on a cart, and drove into the town to theapothecary, and asked him if he would buy a dead body.

"Whose is it, and where did you get it?" asked the apothecary.

"It is my grandmother," he replied; "I killed her with a blow,that I might get a bushel of money for her."

"Heaven preserve us!" cried the apothecary, "you are out of yourmind. Don't say such things, or you will lose your head." And thenhe talked to him seriously about the wicked deed he had done, and toldhim that such a wicked man would surely be punished. Great Claus gotso frightened that he rushed out of the surgery, jumped into the cart,whipped up his horses, and drove home quickly. The apothecary andall the people thought him mad, and let him drive where he liked.

"You shall pay for this," said Great Claus, as soon as he got intothe highroad, "that you shall, Little Claus." So as soon as he reachedhome he took the largest sack he could find and went over to LittleClaus. "You have played me another trick," said he. "First, I killedall my horses, and then my old grandmother, and it is all yourfault; but you shall not make a fool of me any more." So he laidhold of Little Claus round the body, and pushed him into the sack,which he took on his shoulders, saying, "Now I'm going to drown you inthe river.

He had a long way to go before he reached the river, and LittleClaus was not a very light weight to carry. The road led by thechurch, and as they passed he could hear the organ playing and thepeople singing beautifully. Great Claus put down the sack close to thechurch-door, and thought he might as well go in and hear a psalmbefore he went any farther. Little Claus could not possibly get out ofthe sack, and all the people were in church; so in he went.

"Oh dear, oh dear," sighed Little Claus in the sack, as heturned and twisted about; but he found he could not loosen thestring with which it was tied. Presently an old cattle driver, withsnowy hair, passed by, carrying a large staff in his hand, withwhich he drove a large herd of cows and oxen before him. They stumbledagainst the sack in which lay Little Claus, and turned it over. "Ohdear," sighed Little Claus, "I am very young, yet I am soon going toheaven."

"And I, poor fellow," said the drover, "I who am so old already,cannot get there."

"Open the sack," cried Little Claus; "creep into it instead of me,and you will soon be there."

"With all my heart," replied the drover, opening the sack, fromwhich sprung Little Claus as quickly as possible. "Will you takecare of my cattle?" said the old man, as he crept into the bag.

"Yes," said Little Claus, and he tied up the sack, and then walkedoff with all the cows and oxen.

When Great Claus came out of church, he took up the sack, andplaced it on his shoulders. It appeared to have become lighter, forthe old drover was not half so heavy as Little Claus.

"How light he seems now," said he. "Ah, it is because I havebeen to a church." So he walked on to the river, which was deep andbroad, and threw the sack containing the old drover into the water,believing it to be Little Claus. "There you may lie!" he exclaimed;"you will play me no more tricks now." Then he turned to go home,but when he came to a place where two roads crossed, there wasLittle Claus driving the cattle. "How is this?" said Great Claus. "DidI not drown you just now?"

"Yes," said Little Claus; "you threw me into the river abouthalf an hour ago."

"But wherever did you get all these fine beasts?" asked GreatClaus.

"These beasts are sea-cattle," replied Little Claus. "I'll tellyou the whole story, and thank you for drowning me; I am above younow, I am really very rich. I was frightened, to be sure, while Ilay tied up in the sack, and the wind whistled in my ears when youthrew me into the river from the bridge, and I sank to the bottomimmediately; but I did not hurt myself, for I fell upon beautifullysoft grass which grows down there; and in a moment, the sack opened,and the sweetest little maiden came towards me. She had snow-whiterobes, and a wreath of green leaves on her wet hair. She took me bythe hand, and said, 'So you are come, Little Claus, and here aresome cattle for you to begin with. About a mile farther on the road,there is another herd for you.' Then I saw that the river formed agreat highway for the people who live in the sea. They were walkingand driving here and there from the sea to the land at the, spot wherethe river terminates. The bed of the river was covered with theloveliest flowers and sweet fresh grass. The fish swam past me asrapidly as the birds do here in the air. How handsome all the peoplewere, and what fine cattle were grazing on the hills and in thevalleys!"

"But why did you come up again," said Great Claus, "if it wasall so beautiful down there? I should not have done so?"

"Well," said Little Claus, "it was good policy on my part; youheard me say just now that I was told by the sea-maiden to go a milefarther on the road, and I should find a whole herd of cattle. Bythe road she meant the river, for she could not travel any otherway; but I knew the winding of the river, and how it bends,sometimes to the right and sometimes to the left, and it seemed a longway, so I chose a shorter one; and, by coming up to the land, and thendriving across the fields back again to the river, I shall save half amile, and get all my cattle more quickly."

"What a lucky fellow you are!" exclaimed Great Claus. "Do youthink I should get any sea-cattle if I went down to the bottom ofthe river?"

"Yes, I think so," said Little Claus; "but I cannot carry youthere in a sack, you are too heavy. However if you will go therefirst, and then creep into a sack, I will throw you in with thegreatest pleasure."

"Thank you," said Great Claus; "but remember, if I do not getany sea-cattle down there I shall come up again and give you a goodthrashing."

"No, now, don't be too fierce about it!" said Little Claus, asthey walked on towards the river. When they approached it, the cattle,who were very thirsty, saw the stream, and ran down to drink.

"See what a hurry they are in," said Little Claus, "they arelonging to get down again,"

"Come, help me, make haste," said Great Claus; "or you'll getbeaten." So he crept into a large sack, which had been lying acrossthe back of one of the oxen.

"Put in a stone," said Great Claus, "or I may not sink."

"Oh, there's not much fear of that," he replied; still he put alarge stone into the bag, and then tied it tightly, and gave it apush.

"Plump!" In went Great Claus, and immediately sank to the bottomof the river.

"I'm afraid he will not find any cattle," said Little Claus, andthen he drove his own beasts homewards.

THE END.

1872

FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS

by Hans Christian Andersen

"My poor flowers are quite dead," said little Ida, "they were sopretty yesterday evening, and now all the leaves are hanging downquite withered. What do they do that for," she asked, of the studentwho sat on the sofa; she liked him very much, he could tell the mostamusing stories, and cut out the prettiest pictures; hearts, andladies dancing, castles with doors that opened, as well as flowers; hewas a delightful student. "Why do the flowers look so faded to-day?"she asked again, and pointed to her nosegay, which was quite withered.

"Don't you know what is the matter with them?" said the student."The flowers were at a ball last night, and therefore, it is no wonderthey hang their heads."

"But flowers cannot dance?" cried little Ida.

"Yes indeed, they can," replied the student. "When it growsdark, and everybody is asleep, they jump about quite merrily. Theyhave a ball almost every night."

"Can children go to these balls?"

"Yes," said the student, "little daisies and lilies of thevalley."

"Where do the beautiful flowers dance?" asked little Ida.

"Have you not often seen the large castle outside the gates of thetown, where the king lives in summer, and where the beautiful gardenis full of flowers? And have you not fed the swans with bread whenthey swam towards you? Well, the flowers have capital balls there,believe me."

"I was in the garden out there yesterday with my mother," saidIda, "but all the leaves were off the trees, and there was not asingle flower left. Where are they? I used to see so many in thesummer."

"They are in the castle," replied the student. "You must know thatas soon as the king and all the court are gone into the town, theflowers run out of the garden into the castle, and you should seehow merry they are. The two most beautiful roses seat themselves onthe throne, and are called the king and queen, then all the redcockscombs range themselves on each side, and bow, these are thelords-in-waiting. After that the pretty flowers come in, and thereis a grand ball. The blue violets represent little naval cadets, anddance with hyacinths and crocuses which they call young ladies. Thetulips and tiger-lilies are the old ladies who sit and watch thedancing, so that everything may be conducted with order andpropriety."

"But," said little Ida, "is there no one there to hurt the flowersfor dancing in the king's castle?"

"No one knows anything about it," said the student. "The oldsteward of the castle, who has to watch there at night, sometimescomes in; but he carries a great bunch of keys, and as soon as theflowers hear the keys rattle, they run and hide themselves behindthe long curtains, and stand quite still, just peeping their headsout. Then the old steward says, 'I smell flowers here,' but hecannot see them."

"Oh how capital," said little Ida, clapping her hands. "Should Ibe able to see these flowers?"

"Yes," said the student, "mind you think of it the next time yougo out, no doubt you will see them, if you peep through the window.I did so to-day, and I saw a long yellow lily lying stretched out onthe sofa. She was a court lady."

"Can the flowers from the Botanical Gardens go to these balls?"asked Ida. "It is such a distance!"

"Oh yes," said the student 'whenever they like, for they canfly. Have you not seen those beautiful red, white. and yellowbutterflies, that look like flowers? They were flowers once. They haveflown off their stalks into the air, and flap their leaves as ifthey were little wings to make them fly. Then, if they behave well,they obtain permission to fly about during the day, instead of beingobliged to sit still on their stems at home, and so in time theirleaves become real wings. It may be, however, that the flowers inthe Botanical Gardens have never been to the king's palace, and,therefore, they know nothing of the merry doings at night, whichtake place there. I will tell you what to do, and the botanicalprofessor, who lives close by here, will be so surprised. You know himvery well, do you not? Well, next time you go into his garden, youmust tell one of the flowers that there is going to be a grand ball atthe castle, then that flower will tell all the others, and they willfly away to the castle as soon as possible. And when the professorwalks into his garden, there will not be a single flower left. Howhe will wonder what has become of them!"