{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_32571/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_32571","id":"gutenberg_32571","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/32571","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Children's stories, Danish -- Translations into English","Fairy tales","Fairy tales -- Denmark"],"text":"Produced by Sharon Joiner and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive/American Libraries.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nHans Andersen's Fairy Tales\n\nFirst Series\n\n_Edited by_ J. H. Stickney\n\nIllustrated by Edna F. Hart\n\n          Ginn and Company\n          Boston--New York--Chicago--London\n\n\n\n\n          COPYRIGHT, 1886, 1914, BY J. H. STICKNEY\n\n          ALL RIGHTS RESERVED\n\n          914.10\n\n          The Athen\u00e6um Press\n\n          GINN AND COMPANY \u00b7 PROPRIETORS\n          \u00b7 BOSTON \u00b7 U.S.A.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThe Hans Andersen Fairy Tales will be read in schools and homes as long\nas there are children who love to read. As a story-teller for children\nthe author has no rival in power to enlist the imagination and carry it\nalong natural, healthful lines. The power of his tales to charm and\nelevate runs like a living thread through whatever he writes. In the two\nbooks in which they are here presented they have met the tests and held\nan undiminishing popularity among the best children's books. They are\nrecognized as standards, and as juvenile writings come to be more\ncarefully standardized, their place in permanent literature will grow\nwider and more secure. A few children's authors will be ranked among the\nImmortals, and Hans Andersen is one of them.\n\nDenmark and Finland supplied the natural background for the quaint\nfancies and growing genius of their gifted son, who was story-teller,\nplaywright, and poet in one. Love of nature, love of country,\nfellow-feeling with life in everything, and a wonderful gift for\ninvesting everything with life wrought together to produce in him a\ncharacter whose spell is in all his writings. \"The Story of My Life\" is\nperhaps the most thrilling of all of them. Recognized in courts of kings\nand castles of nobles, he recited his little stories with the same\nsimplicity by which he had made them familiar in cottages of the\npeasantry, and endeared himself alike to all who listened. These\nattributes, while they do not account for his genius, help us to unravel\nthe charm of it. The simplest of the stories meet Ruskin's requirement\nfor a child's story--they are sweet and sad.\n\nFrom most writers who have contributed largely to children's literature\nonly a few selected gems are likely to gain permanence. With Andersen\nthe case is different. While there are such gems, the greater value lies\nin taking these stories as a type of literature and living in it a\nwhile, through the power of cumulative reading. It is not too much to\nsay that there is a temper and spirit in Andersen which is all his\nown--a simple philosophy which continuous reading is sure to impart. For\nthis reason these are good books for a child to own; an occasional\nre-reading will inspire in him a healthy, normal taste in reading. Many\nof the stories are of value to read to very young children. They guide\nan exuberant imagination along natural channels.\n\nThe text of the present edition is a reprint of an earlier one which was\nbased upon a sentence-by-sentence comparison of the four or five\ntranslations current in Europe and America. It has been widely commended\nas enjoyable reading, while faithful to the letter and spirit of the\nDanish original. A slight abridgment has been made in two of the longer\nstories. The order of the selections adapts the reading to the growing\nchild--the First Series should be sufficiently easy for children of\nabout eight or nine years old.\n\n                                                       J. H. STICKNEY\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                       PAGE\n          THE FIR TREE                    1\n          LITTLE TUK                     20\n          THE UGLY DUCKLING              30\n          LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS           52\n          THE STEADFAST TIN SOLDIER      67\n          LITTLE THUMBELINA              77\n          SUNSHINE STORIES              101\n          THE DARNING-NEEDLE            109\n          THE LITTLE MATCH GIRL         117\n          THE LOVING PAIR               124\n          THE LEAPING MATCH             129\n          THE HAPPY FAMILY              134\n          THE GREENIES                  141\n          OLE-LUK-OIE, THE DREAM GOD    145\n          THE MONEY BOX                 169\n          ELDER-TREE MOTHER             174\n          THE SNOW QUEEN                192\n          THE ROSES AND THE SPARROWS    253\n          THE OLD HOUSE                 273\n          THE CONCEITED APPLE BRANCH    290\n          NOTES                         299\n\n[Illustration: They danced merrily ... around the tree.]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nHANS ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIR TREE\n\n\nFAR away in the forest, where the warm sun and the fresh air made a\nsweet resting place, grew a pretty little fir tree. The situation was\nall that could be desired; and yet the tree was not happy, it wished so\nmuch to be like its tall companions, the pines and firs which grew\naround it.\n\nThe sun shone, and the soft air fluttered its leaves, and the little\npeasant children passed by, prattling merrily; but the fir tree did not\nheed them.\n\nSometimes the children would bring a large basket of raspberries or\nstrawberries, wreathed on straws, and seat themselves near the fir\ntree, and say, \"Is it not a pretty little tree?\" which made it feel even\nmore unhappy than before.\n\nAnd yet all this while the tree grew a notch or joint taller every year,\nfor by the number of joints in the stem of a fir tree we can discover\nits age.\n\nStill, as it grew, it complained: \"Oh! how I wish I were as tall as the\nother trees; then I would spread out my branches on every side, and my\ncrown would overlook the wide world around. I should have the birds\nbuilding their nests on my boughs, and when the wind blew, I should bow\nwith stately dignity, like my tall companions.\"\n\nSo discontented was the tree, that it took no pleasure in the warm\nsunshine, the birds, or the rosy clouds that floated over it morning and\nevening.\n\nSometimes in winter, when the snow lay white and glittering on the\nground, there was a little hare that would come springing along, and\njump right over the little tree's head; then how mortified it would\nfeel.\n\nTwo winters passed; and when the third arrived, the tree had grown so\ntall that the hare was obliged to run round it. Yet it remained\nunsatisfied and would exclaim: \"Oh! to grow, to grow; if I could but\nkeep on growing tall and old! There is nothing else worth caring for in\nthe world.\"\n\nIn the autumn the woodcutters came, as usual, and cut down several of\nthe tallest trees; and the young fir, which was now grown to a good,\nfull height, shuddered as the noble trees fell to the earth with a\ncrash.\n\nAfter the branches were lopped off, the trunks looked so slender and\nbare that they could scarcely be recognized. Then they were placed, one\nupon another, upon wagons and drawn by horses out of the forest. Where\ncould they be going? What would become of them? The young fir tree\nwished very much to know.\n\nSo in the spring, when the swallows and the storks came, it asked: \"Do\nyou know where those trees were taken? Did you meet them?\"\n\nThe swallows knew nothing; but the stork, after a little reflection,\nnodded his head and said: \"Yes, I think I do. As I flew from Egypt, I\nmet several new ships, and they had fine masts that smelt like fir.\nThese must have been the trees; and I assure you they were stately; they\nsailed right gloriously!\"\n\n\"Oh, how I wish I were tall enough to go on the sea,\" said the fir tree.\n\"Tell me what is this sea, and what does it look like?\"\n\n\"It would take too much time to explain--a great deal too much,\" said\nthe stork, flying quickly away.\n\n\"Rejoice in thy youth,\" said the sunbeam; \"rejoice in thy fresh growth\nand in the young life that is in thee.\"\n\nAnd the wind kissed the tree, and the dew watered it with tears, but the\nfir tree regarded them not.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nChristmas time drew near, and many young trees were cut down, some that\nwere even smaller and younger than the fir tree, who enjoyed neither\nrest nor peace for longing to leave its forest home. These young trees,\nwhich were chosen for their beauty, kept their branches, and they, also,\nwere laid on wagons and drawn by horses far away out of the forest.\n\n\"Where are they going?\" asked the fir tree. \"They are not taller than I\nam; indeed, one is not so tall. And why do they keep all their branches?\nWhere are they going?\"\n\n\"We know, we know,\" sang the sparrows; \"we have looked in at the windows\nof the houses in the town, and we know what is done with them. Oh! you\ncannot think what honor and glory they receive. They are dressed up in\nthe most splendid manner. We have seen them standing in the middle of a\nwarm room, and adorned with all sorts of beautiful things--honey cakes,\ngilded apples, playthings, and many hundreds of wax tapers.\"\n\n\"And then,\" asked the fir tree, trembling in all its branches, \"and then\nwhat happens?\"\n\n\"We did not see any more,\" said the sparrows; \"but this was enough for\nus.\"\n\n\"I wonder whether anything so brilliant will ever happen to me,\" thought\nthe fir tree. \"It would be better even than crossing the sea. I long for\nit almost with pain. Oh, when will Christmas be here? I am now as tall\nand well grown as those which were taken away last year. O that I were\nnow laid on the wagon, or standing in the warm room with all that\nbrightness and splendor around me! Something better and more beautiful\nis to come after, or the trees would not be so decked out. Yes, what\nfollows will be grander and more splendid. What can it be? I am weary\nwith longing. I scarcely know what it is that I feel.\"\n\n\"Rejoice in our love,\" said the air and the sunlight. \"Enjoy thine own\nbright life in the fresh air.\"\n\nBut the tree would not rejoice, though it grew taller every day, and\nwinter and summer its dark-green foliage might be seen in the forest,\nwhile passers-by would say, \"What a beautiful tree!\"\n\nA short time before the next Christmas the discontented fir tree was the\nfirst to fall. As the ax cut sharply through the stem and divided the\npith, the tree fell with a groan to the earth, conscious of pain and\nfaintness and forgetting all its dreams of happiness in sorrow at\nleaving its home in the forest. It knew that it should never again see\nits dear old companions the trees, nor the little bushes and\nmany-colored flowers that had grown by its side; perhaps not even the\nbirds. Nor was the journey at all pleasant.\n\nThe tree first recovered itself while being unpacked in the courtyard of\na house, with several other trees; and it heard a man say: \"We only want\none, and this is the prettiest. This is beautiful!\"\n\nThen came two servants in grand livery and carried the fir tree into a\nlarge and beautiful apartment. Pictures hung on the walls, and near the\ntall tile stove stood great china vases with lions on the lids. There\nwere rocking-chairs, silken sofas, and large tables covered with\npictures; and there were books, and playthings that had cost a hundred\ntimes a hundred dollars--at least so said the children.\n\nThen the fir tree was placed in a large tub full of sand--but green\nbaize hung all round it so that no one could know it was a tub--and it\nstood on a very handsome carpet. Oh, how the fir tree trembled! What was\ngoing to happen to him now? Some young ladies came, and the servants\nhelped them to adorn the tree.\n\nOn one branch they hung little bags cut out of colored paper, and each\nbag was filled with sweetmeats. From other branches hung gilded apples\nand walnuts, as if they had grown there; and above and all around were\nhundreds of red, blue, and white tapers, which were fastened upon the\nbranches. Dolls, exactly like real men and women, were placed under the\ngreen leaves,--the tree had never seen such things before,--and at the\nvery top was fastened a glittering star made of gold tinsel. Oh, it was\nvery beautiful. \"This evening,\" they all exclaimed, \"how bright it will\nbe!\"\n\n\"O that the evening were come,\" thought the tree, \"and the tapers\nlighted! Then I shall know what else is going to happen. Will the trees\nof the forest come to see me? Will the sparrows peep in at the windows,\nI wonder, as they fly? Shall I grow faster here than in the forest, and\nshall I keep on all these ornaments during summer and winter?\" But\nguessing was of very little use. His back ached with trying, and this\npain is as bad for a slender fir tree as headache is for us.\n\nAt last the tapers were lighted, and then what a glistening blaze of\nsplendor the tree presented! It trembled so with joy in all its branches\nthat one of the candles fell among the green leaves and burned some of\nthem. \"Help! help!\" exclaimed the young ladies; but no harm was done,\nfor they quickly extinguished the fire.\n\nAfter this the tree tried not to tremble at all, though the fire\nfrightened him, he was so anxious not to hurt any of the beautiful\nornaments, even while their brilliancy dazzled him.\n\nAnd now the folding doors were thrown open, and a troop of children\nrushed in as if they intended to upset the tree, and were followed more\nslowly by their elders. For a moment the little ones stood silent with\nastonishment, and then they shouted for joy till the room rang; and they\ndanced merrily round the tree while one present after another was taken\nfrom it.\n\n\"What are they doing? What will happen next?\" thought the tree. At last\nthe candles burned down to the branches and were put out. Then the\nchildren received permission to plunder the tree.\n\nOh, how they rushed upon it! There was such a riot that the branches\ncracked, and had it not been fastened with the glistening star to the\nceiling, it must have been thrown down.\n\nThen the children danced about with their pretty toys, and no one\nnoticed the tree except the children's maid, who came and peeped among\nthe branches to see if an apple or a fig had been forgotten.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"A story, a story,\" cried the children, pulling a little fat man towards\nthe tree.\n\n\"Now we shall be in the green shade,\" said the man as he seated himself\nunder it, \"and the tree will have the pleasure of hearing, also; but I\nshall only relate one story. What shall it be? Ivede-Avede or Humpty\nDumpty, who fell downstairs, but soon got up again, and at last married\na princess?\"\n\n\"Ivede-Avede,\" cried some; \"Humpty Dumpty,\" cried others; and there was\na famous uproar. But the fir tree remained quite still and thought to\nhimself: \"Shall I have anything to do with all this? Ought I to make a\nnoise, too?\" but he had already amused them as much as they wished and\nthey paid no attention to him.\n\nThen the old man told them the story of Humpty Dumpty--how he fell\ndownstairs, and was raised up again, and married a princess. And the\nchildren clapped their hands and cried, \"Tell another, tell another,\"\nfor they wanted to hear the story of Ivede-Avede; but this time they had\nonly \"Humpty Dumpty.\" After this the fir tree became quite silent and\nthoughtful. Never had the birds in the forest told such tales as that of\nHumpty Dumpty, who fell downstairs, and yet married a princess.\n\n\"Ah, yes! so it happens in the world,\" thought the fir tree. He believed\nit all, because it was related by such a pleasant man.\n\n\"Ah, well!\" he thought, \"who knows? Perhaps I may fall down, too, and\nmarry a princess;\" and he looked forward joyfully to the next evening,\nexpecting to be again decked out with lights and playthings, gold and\nfruit. \"To-morrow I will not tremble,\" thought he; \"I will enjoy all my\nsplendor, and I shall hear the story of Humpty Dumpty again, and perhaps\nof Ivede-Avede.\" And the tree remained quiet and thoughtful all night.\n\nIn the morning the servants and the housemaid came in. \"Now,\" thought\nthe fir tree, \"all my splendor is going to begin again.\" But they\ndragged him out of the room and upstairs to the garret and threw him on\nthe floor in a dark corner where no daylight shone, and there they left\nhim. \"What does this mean?\" thought the tree. \"What am I to do here? I\ncan hear nothing in a place like this;\" and he leaned against the wall\nand thought and thought.\n\nAnd he had time enough to think, for days and nights passed and no one\ncame near him; and when at last somebody did come, it was only to push\naway some large boxes in a corner. So the tree was completely hidden\nfrom sight, as if it had never existed.\n\n[Illustration: Threw him on the floor ..... and there they left him.]\n\n\"It is winter now,\" thought the tree; \"the ground is hard and covered\nwith snow, so that people cannot plant me. I shall be sheltered here, I\ndare say, until spring comes. How thoughtful and kind everybody is to\nme! Still, I wish this place were not so dark and so dreadfully\nlonely, with not even a little hare to look at. How pleasant it was\nout in the forest while the snow lay on the ground, when the hare would\nrun by, yes, and jump over me, too, although I did not like it then. Oh!\nit is terribly lonely here.\"\n\n\"Squeak, squeak,\" said a little mouse, creeping cautiously towards the\ntree; then came another, and they both sniffed at the fir tree and crept\nin and out between the branches.\n\n\"Oh, it is very cold,\" said the little mouse. \"If it were not we should\nbe very comfortable here, shouldn't we, old fir tree?\"\n\n\"I am not old,\" said the fir tree. \"There are many who are older than I\nam.\"\n\n\"Where do you come from?\" asked the mice, who were full of curiosity;\n\"and what do you know? Have you seen the most beautiful places in the\nworld, and can you tell us all about them? And have you been in the\nstoreroom, where cheeses lie on the shelf and hams hang from the\nceiling? One can run about on tallow candles there; one can go in thin\nand come out fat.\"\n\n\"I know nothing of that,\" said the fir tree, \"but I know the wood, where\nthe sun shines and the birds sing.\" And then the tree told the little\nmice all about its youth. They had never heard such an account in their\nlives; and after they had listened to it attentively, they said: \"What a\nnumber of things you have seen! You must have been very happy.\"\n\n\"Happy!\" exclaimed the fir tree; and then, as he reflected on what he\nhad been telling them, he said, \"Ah, yes! after all, those were happy\ndays.\" But when he went on and related all about Christmas Eve, and how\nhe had been dressed up with cakes and lights, the mice said, \"How happy\nyou must have been, you old fir tree.\"\n\n\"I am not old at all,\" replied the tree; \"I only came from the forest\nthis winter. I am now checked in my growth.\"\n\n\"What splendid stories you can tell,\" said the little mice. And the next\nnight four other mice came with them to hear what the tree had to tell.\nThe more he talked the more he remembered, and then he thought to\nhimself: \"Yes, those were happy days; but they may come again. Humpty\nDumpty fell downstairs, and yet he married the princess. Perhaps I may\nmarry a princess, too.\" And the fir tree thought of the pretty little\nbirch tree that grew in the forest; a real princess, a beautiful\nprincess, she was to him.\n\n\"Who is Humpty Dumpty?\" asked the little mice. And then the tree related\nthe whole story; he could remember every single word. And the little\nmice were so delighted with it that they were ready to jump to the top\nof the tree. The next night a great many more mice made their\nappearance, and on Sunday two rats came with them; but the rats said it\nwas not a pretty story at all, and the little mice were very sorry, for\nit made them also think less of it.\n\n\"Do you know only that one story?\" asked the rats.\n\n\"Only that one,\" replied the fir tree. \"I heard it on the happiest\nevening in my life; but I did not know I was so happy at the time.\"\n\n\"We think it is a very miserable story,\" said the rats. \"Don't you know\nany story about bacon or tallow in the storeroom?\"\n\n\"No,\" replied the tree.\n\n\"Many thanks to you, then,\" replied the rats, and they went their ways.\n\nThe little mice also kept away after this, and the tree sighed and said:\n\"It was very pleasant when the merry little mice sat round me and\nlistened while I talked. Now that is all past, too. However, I shall\nconsider myself happy when some one comes to take me out of this place.\"\n\nBut would this ever happen? Yes; one morning people came to clear up the\ngarret; the boxes were packed away, and the tree was pulled out of the\ncorner and thrown roughly on the floor; then the servants dragged it out\nupon the staircase, where the daylight shone.\n\n\"Now life is beginning again,\" said the tree, rejoicing in the sunshine\nand fresh air. Then it was carried downstairs and taken into the\ncourtyard so quickly that it forgot to think of itself and could only\nlook about, there was so much to be seen.\n\nThe court was close to a garden, where everything looked blooming. Fresh\nand fragrant roses hung over the little palings. The linden trees were\nin blossom, while swallows flew here and there, crying, \"Twit, twit,\ntwit, my mate is coming\"; but it was not the fir tree they meant.\n\n\"Now I shall live,\" cried the tree joyfully, spreading out its branches;\nbut alas! they were all withered and yellow, and it lay in a corner\namong weeds and nettles. The star of gold paper still stuck in the top\nof the tree and glittered in the sunshine.\n\nTwo of the merry children who had danced round the tree at Christmas and\nhad been so happy were playing in the same courtyard. The youngest saw\nthe gilded star and ran and pulled it off the tree. \"Look what is\nsticking to the ugly old fir tree,\" said the child, treading on the\nbranches till they crackled under his boots.\n\nAnd the tree saw all the fresh, bright flowers in the garden and then\nlooked at itself and wished it had remained in the dark corner of the\ngarret. It thought of its fresh youth in the forest, of the merry\nChristmas evening, and of the little mice who had listened to the story\nof Humpty Dumpty.\n\n\"Past! past!\" said the poor tree. \"Oh, had I but enjoyed myself while I\ncould have done so! but now it is too late.\"\n\nThen a lad came and chopped the tree into small pieces, till a large\nbundle lay in a heap on the ground. The pieces were placed in a fire,\nand they quickly blazed up brightly, while the tree sighed so deeply\nthat each sigh was like a little pistol shot. Then the children who were\nat play came and seated themselves in front of the fire, and looked at\nit and cried, \"Pop, pop.\" But at each \"pop,\" which was a deep sigh, the\ntree was thinking of a summer day in the forest or of some winter night\nthere when the stars shone brightly, and of Christmas evening, and of\nHumpty Dumpty,--the only story it had ever heard or knew how to\nrelate,--till at last it was consumed.\n\nThe boys still played in the garden, and the youngest wore on his breast\nthe golden star with which the tree had been adorned during the happiest\nevening of its existence. Now all was past; the tree's life was past and\nthe story also past--for all stories must come to an end at some time or\nother.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE TUK\n\n\nLITTLE TUK! An odd name, to be sure! However, it was not the little\nboy's real name. His real name was Carl; but when he was so young that\nhe could not speak plainly, he used to call himself Tuk. It would be\nhard to say why, for it is not at all like \"Carl\"; but the name does as\nwell as any, if one only knows it.\n\nLittle Tuk was left at home to take care of his sister Gustava, who was\nmuch younger than himself; and he had also to learn his lesson. Here\nwere two things to be done at the same time, and they did not at all\nsuit each other. The poor boy sat with his sister in his lap, singing to\nher all the songs he knew, yet giving, now and then, a glance into his\ngeography, which lay open beside him. By to-morrow morning he must know\nthe names of all the towns in Seeland by heart, and be able to tell\nabout them all that could be told.\n\nHis mother came at last, and took little Gustava in her arms. Tuk ran\nquickly to the window and read and read till he had almost read his eyes\nout--for it was growing dark, and his mother could not afford to buy\ncandles.\n\n\"There goes the old washerwoman down the lane,\" said the mother, as she\nlooked out of the window. \"She can hardly drag herself along, poor\nthing; and now she has to carry that heavy pail from the pump. Be a good\nboy, little Tuk, and run across to help the poor creature, will you\nnot?\" And little Tuk ran quickly and helped to bear the weight of the\npail. But when he came back into the room, it was quite dark. Nothing\nwas said about a candle, and it was of no use to wish for one; he must\ngo to his little trundle-bed, which was made of an old settle.\n\nThere he lay, still thinking of the geography lesson, of Seeland, and of\nall that the master had said. He could not read the book again, as he\nshould by rights have done, for want of a light. So he put the\ngeography-book under his pillow. Somebody had once told him that would\nhelp him wonderfully to remember his lesson, but he had never yet found\nthat one could depend upon it.\n\nThere he lay and thought and thought, till all at once he felt as though\nsome one were gently sealing his mouth and eyes with a kiss. He slept\nand yet did not sleep, for he seemed to see the old washerwoman's mild,\nkind eyes fixed upon him, and to hear her say: \"It would be a shame,\nindeed, for you not to know your lesson to-morrow, little Tuk. You\nhelped me; now I will help you, and our Lord will help us both.\"\n\nAll at once the leaves of the book began to rustle under little Tuk's\nhead, and he heard something crawling about under his pillow.\n\n\"Cluck, cluck, cluck!\" cried a hen, as she crept towards him. (She came\nfrom the town of Kj\u00f6ge.) \"I'm a Kj\u00f6ge hen,\" she said. And then she told\nhim how many inhabitants the little town contained, and about the battle\nthat had once been fought there, and how it was now hardly worth\nmentioning, there were so many greater things.\n\n[Illustration: All in a moment he was on horseback, and on he went,\ngallop, gallop!]\n\nScratch, scratch! kribbley crabbley! and now a great wooden bird jumped\ndown upon the bed. It was the popinjay from the shooting ground at\nPr\u00e6st\u00f6. He had reckoned the number of inhabitants in Pr\u00e6st\u00f6, and found\nthat there were as many as he had nails in his body. He was a proud\nbird. \"Thorwaldsen lived in one corner of Pr\u00e6st\u00f6, close by me. Am I not\na pretty bird, a merry popinjay?\"\n\nAnd now little Tuk no longer lay in bed. All in a moment he was on\nhorseback, and on he went, gallop, gallop! A splendid knight, with a\nbright helmet and waving plume,--a knight of the olden time,--held him\non his own horse; and on they rode together, through the wood of the\nancient city of Vordingborg, and it was once again a great and busy\ntown. The high towers of the king's castle rose against the sky, and\nbright lights were seen gleaming through the windows. Within were music\nand merrymaking. King Waldemar was leading out the noble ladies of his\ncourt to dance with him.\n\nSuddenly the morning dawned, the lamps grew pale, the sun rose, the\noutlines of the buildings faded away, and at last one high tower alone\nremained to mark the spot where the royal castle had stood. The vast\ncity had shrunk into a poor, mean-looking little town. The schoolboys,\ncoming out of school with their geography-books under their arms, said,\n\"Two thousand inhabitants\"; but that was a mere boast, for the town had\nnot nearly so many.\n\nAnd little Tuk lay in his bed. He knew not whether he had been dreaming\nor not, but again there was some one close by his side.\n\n\"Little Tuk! little Tuk!\" cried a voice; it was the voice of a young\nsailor boy. \"I am come to bring you greeting from Kors\u00f6r. Kors\u00f6r is a\nnew town, a living town, with steamers and mail coaches. Once people\nused to call it a low, ugly place, but they do so no longer.\n\n\"'I dwell by the seaside,' says Kors\u00f6r; 'I have broad highroads and\npleasure gardens; and I have given birth to a poet, a witty one, too,\nwhich is more than all poets are. I once thought of sending a ship all\nround the world; but I did not do it, though I might as well have done\nso. I dwell so pleasantly, close by the port; and I am fragrant with\nperfume, for the loveliest roses bloom round about me, close to my\ngates.'\"\n\nAnd little Tuk could smell the roses and see them and their fresh green\nleaves. But in a moment they had vanished; the green leaves spread and\nthickened--a perfect grove had grown up above the bright waters of the\nbay, and above the grove rose the two high-pointed towers of a glorious\nold church. From the side of the grass-grown hill gushed a fountain in\nrainbow-hued streams, with a merry, musical voice, and close beside it\nsat a king, wearing a gold crown upon his long dark hair. This was King\nHroar of the springs; and hard by was the town of Roskilde (Hroar's\nFountain). And up the hill, on a broad highway, went all the kings and\nqueens of Denmark, wearing golden crowns; hand in hand they passed on\ninto the church, and the deep music of the organ mingled with the clear\nrippling of the fountain. For nearly all the kings and queens of Denmark\nlie buried in this beautiful church. And little Tuk saw and heard it\nall.\n\n\"Don't forget the towns,\" said King Hroar.\n\nThen all vanished; though where it went he knew not. It seemed like\nturning the leaves of a book.\n\nAnd now there stood before him an old peasant woman from Sor\u00f6, the quiet\nlittle town where grass grows in the very market place. Her green linen\napron was thrown over her head and back, and the apron was very wet, as\nif it had been raining heavily.\n\n\"And so it has,\" she said. And she told a great many pretty things from\nHolberg's comedies, and recited ballads about Waldemar and Absalon; for\nHolberg had founded an academy in her native town.\n\nAll at once she cowered down and rocked her head as if she were a frog\nabout to spring. \"Koax!\" cried she; \"it is wet, it is always wet, and it\nis as still as the grave in Sor\u00f6.\" She had changed into a frog. \"Koax!\"\nand again she was an old woman. \"One must dress according to the\nweather,\" she said.\n\n\"It is wet! it is wet! My native town is like a bottle; one goes in at\nthe cork, and by the cork one must come out. In old times we had the\nfinest of fish; now we have fresh, rosy-cheeked boys at the bottom of\nthe bottle. There they learn wisdom--Greek, Greek, and Hebrew! Koax!\"\n\nIt sounded exactly as if frogs were croaking, or as if some one were\nwalking over the great swamp with heavy boots. So tiresome was her tone,\nall on the same note, that little Tuk fell fast asleep; and a very good\nthing it was for him.\n\nBut even in sleep there came a dream, or whatever else it may be called.\nHis little sister Gustava, with her blue eyes and flaxen ringlets, was\ngrown into a tall, beautiful girl, who, though she had no wings, could\nfly; and away they now flew over Seeland--over its green woods and blue\nwaters.\n\n\"Hark! Do you hear the cock crow, little Tuk? 'Cock-a-doodle-do!' The\nfowls are flying hither from Kj\u00f6ge, and you shall have a farmyard, a\ngreat, great poultry yard of your own! You shall never suffer hunger or\nwant. The golden goose, the bird of good omen, shall be yours; you shall\nbecome a rich and happy man. Your house shall rise up like King\nWaldemar's towers and be richly decked with statues like those of\nThorwaldsen at Pr\u00e6st\u00f6.\n\n\"Understand me well; your good name shall be borne round the world, like\nthe ship that was to sail from Kors\u00f6r, and at Roskilde you shall speak\nand give counsel wisely and well, little Tuk, like King Hroar; and when\nat last you shall lie in your peaceful grave you shall sleep as\nquietly--\"\n\n\"As if I lay sleeping in Sor\u00f6,\" said Tuk, and he woke. It was a bright\nmorning, and he could not remember his dream, but it was not necessary\nthat he should. One has no need to know what one will live to see.\n\nAnd now he sprang quickly out of bed and sought his book, that had lain\nunder his pillow. He read his lesson and found that he knew the towns\nperfectly well.\n\nAnd the old washerwoman put her head in at the door and said, with a\nfriendly nod: \"Thank you, my good child, for yesterday's help. May the\nLord fulfill your brightest and most beautiful dreams! I know he will.\"\n\nLittle Tuk had forgotten what he had dreamed, but it did not matter.\nThere was One above who knew it all.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE UGLY DUCKLING\n\n\nIT was so beautiful in the country. It was the summer time. The wheat\nfields were golden, the oats were green, and the hay stood in great\nstacks in the green meadows. The stork paraded about among them on his\nlong red legs, chattering away in Egyptian, the language he had learned\nfrom his lady mother.\n\nAll around the meadows and cornfields grew thick woods, and in the midst\nof the forest was a deep lake. Yes, it was beautiful, it was delightful\nin the country.\n\nIn a sunny spot stood a pleasant old farmhouse circled all about with\ndeep canals; and from the walls down to the water's edge grew great\nburdocks, so high that under the tallest of them a little child might\nstand upright. The spot was as wild as if it had been in the very\ncenter of the thick wood.\n\nIn this snug retreat sat a duck upon her nest, watching for her young\nbrood to hatch; but the pleasure she had felt at first was almost gone;\nshe had begun to think it a wearisome task, for the little ones were so\nlong coming out of their shells, and she seldom had visitors. The other\nducks liked much better to swim about in the canals than to climb the\nslippery banks and sit under the burdock leaves to have a gossip with\nher. It was a long time to stay so much by herself.\n\nAt length, however, one shell cracked, and soon another, and from each\ncame a living creature that lifted its head and cried \"Peep, peep.\"\n\n\"Quack, quack!\" said the mother; and then they all tried to say it, too,\nas well as they could, while they looked all about them on every side at\nthe tall green leaves. Their mother allowed them to look about as much\nas they liked, because green is good for the eyes.\n\n\"What a great world it is, to be sure,\" said the little ones, when they\nfound how much more room they had than when they were in the eggshell.\n\n\"Is this all the world, do you imagine?\" said the mother. \"Wait till you\nhave seen the garden. Far beyond that it stretches down to the pastor's\nfield, though I have never ventured to such a distance. Are you all\nout?\" she continued, rising to look. \"No, not all; the largest egg lies\nthere yet, I declare. I wonder how long this business is to last. I'm\nreally beginning to be tired of it;\" but for all that she sat down\nagain.\n\n\"Well, and how are you to-day?\" quacked an old duck who came to pay her\na visit.\n\n\"There's one egg that takes a deal of hatching. The shell is hard and\nwill not break,\" said the fond mother, who sat still upon her nest. \"But\njust look at the others. Have I not a pretty family? Are they not the\nprettiest little ducklings you ever saw? They are the image of their\nfather--the good for naught! He never comes to see me.\"\n\n\"Let me see the egg that will not break,\" said the old duck. \"I've no\ndoubt it's a Guinea fowl's egg. The same thing happened to me once, and\na deal of trouble it gave me, for the young ones are afraid of the\nwater. I quacked and clucked, but all to no purpose. Let me take a look\nat it. Yes, I am right; it's a Guinea fowl, upon my word; so take my\nadvice and leave it where it is. Come to the water and teach the other\nchildren to swim.\"\n\n\"I think I will sit a little while longer,\" said the mother. \"I have sat\nso long, a day or two more won't matter.\"\n\n\"Very well, please yourself,\" said the old duck, rising; and she went\naway.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAt last the great egg broke, and the latest bird cried \"Peep, peep,\" as\nhe crept forth from the shell. How big and ugly he was! The mother duck\nstared at him and did not know what to think. \"Really,\" she said, \"this\nis an enormous duckling, and it is not at all like any of the others. I\nwonder if he will turn out to be a Guinea fowl. Well, we shall see when\nwe get to the water--for into the water he must go, even if I have to\npush him in myself.\"\n\nOn the next day the weather was delightful. The sun shone brightly on\nthe green burdock leaves, and the mother duck took her whole family\ndown to the water and jumped in with a splash. \"Quack, quack!\" cried\nshe, and one after another the little ducklings jumped in. The water\nclosed over their heads, but they came up again in an instant and swam\nabout quite prettily, with their legs paddling under them as easily as\npossible; their legs went of their own accord; and the ugly gray-coat\nwas also in the water, swimming with them.\n\n\"Oh,\" said the mother, \"that is not a Guinea fowl. See how well he uses\nhis legs, and how erect he holds himself! He is my own child, and he is\nnot so very ugly after all, if you look at him properly. Quack, quack!\ncome with me now. I will take you into grand society and introduce you\nto the farmyard, but you must keep close to me or you may be trodden\nupon; and, above all, beware of the cat.\"\n\nWhen they reached the farmyard, there was a wretched riot going on; two\nfamilies were fighting for an eel's head, which, after all, was carried\noff by the cat. \"See, children, that is the way of the world,\" said the\nmother duck, whetting her beak, for she would have liked the eel's head\nherself. \"Come, now, use your legs, and let me see how well you can\nbehave. You must bow your heads prettily to that old duck yonder; she is\nthe highest born of them all and has Spanish blood; therefore she is\nwell off. Don't you see she has a red rag tied to her leg, which is\nsomething very grand and a great honor for a duck; it shows that every\none is anxious not to lose her, and that she is to be noticed by both\nman and beast. Come, now, don't turn in your toes; a well-bred duckling\nspreads his feet wide apart, just like his father and mother, in this\nway; now bend your necks and say 'Quack!'\"\n\nThe ducklings did as they were bade, but the other ducks stared, and\nsaid, \"Look, here comes another brood--as if there were not enough of us\nalready! And bless me, what a queer-looking object one of them is; we\ndon't want him here\"; and then one flew out and bit him in the neck.\n\n\"Let him alone,\" said the mother; \"he is not doing any harm.\"\n\n\"Yes, but he is so big and ugly. He's a perfect fright,\" said the\nspiteful duck, \"and therefore he must be turned out. A little biting\nwill do him good.\"\n\n\"The others are very pretty children,\" said the old duck with the rag on\nher leg, \"all but that one. I wish his mother could smooth him up a bit;\nhe is really ill-favored.\"\n\n\"That is impossible, your grace,\" replied the mother. \"He is not pretty,\nbut he has a very good disposition and swims as well as the others or\neven better. I think he will grow up pretty, and perhaps be smaller. He\nhas remained too long in the egg, and therefore his figure is not\nproperly formed;\" and then she stroked his neck and smoothed the\nfeathers, saying: \"It is a drake, and therefore not of so much\nconsequence. I think he will grow up strong and able to take care of\nhimself.\"\n\n\"The other ducklings are graceful enough,\" said the old duck. \"Now make\nyourself at home, and if you find an eel's head you can bring it to me.\"\n\nAnd so they made themselves comfortable; but the poor duckling who had\ncrept out of his shell last of all and looked so ugly was bitten and\npushed and made fun of, not only by the ducks but by all the poultry.\n\n[Illustration: Bless me, what a queer-looking object one of them is...]\n\n\"He is too big,\" they all said; and the turkey cock, who had been born\ninto the world with spurs and fancied himself really an emperor, puffed\nhimself out like a vessel in full sail and flew at the duckling. He\nbecame quite red in the head with passion, so that the poor little thing\ndid not know where to go, and was quite miserable because he was so ugly\nas to be laughed at by the whole farmyard.\n\nSo it went on from day to day; it got worse and worse. The poor duckling\nwas driven about by every one; even his brothers and sisters were unkind\nto him and would say, \"Ah, you ugly creature, I wish the cat would get\nyou\" and his mother had been heard to say she wished he had never been\nborn. The ducks pecked him, the chickens beat him, and the girl who fed\nthe poultry pushed him with her feet. So at last he ran away,\nfrightening the little birds in the hedge as he flew over the palings.\n\"They are afraid because I am so ugly,\" he said. So he flew still\nfarther, until he came out on a large moor inhabited by wild ducks. Here\nhe remained the whole night, feeling very sorrowful.\n\nIn the morning, when the wild ducks rose in the air, they stared at\ntheir new comrade. \"What sort of a duck are you?\" they all said, coming\nround him.\n\nHe bowed to them and was as polite as he could be, but he did not reply\nto their question. \"You are exceedingly ugly,\" said the wild ducks; \"but\nthat will not matter if you do not want to marry one of our family.\"\n\nPoor thing! he had no thoughts of marriage; all he wanted was permission\nto lie among the rushes and drink some of the water on the moor. After\nhe had been on the moor two days, there came two wild geese, or rather\ngoslings, for they had not been out of the egg long, which accounts for\ntheir impertinence. \"Listen, friend,\" said one of them to the duckling;\n\"you are so ugly that we like you very well. Will you go with us and\nbecome a bird of passage? Not far from here is another moor, in which\nthere are some wild geese, all of them unmarried. It is a chance for you\nto get a wife. You may make your fortune, ugly as you are.\"\n\n\"Bang, bang,\" sounded in the air, and the two wild geese fell dead\namong the rushes, and the water was tinged with blood. \"Bang, bang,\"\nechoed far and wide in the distance, and whole flocks of wild geese rose\nup from the rushes.\n\nThe sound continued from every direction, for the sportsmen surrounded\nthe moor, and some were even seated on branches of trees, overlooking\nthe rushes. The blue smoke from the guns rose like clouds over the dark\ntrees, and as it floated away across the water, a number of sporting\ndogs bounded in among the rushes, which bent beneath them wherever they\nwent. How they terrified the poor duckling! He turned away his head to\nhide it under his wing, and at the same moment a large, terrible dog\npassed quite near him. His jaws were open, his tongue hung from his\nmouth, and his eyes glared fearfully. He thrust his nose close to the\nduckling, showing his sharp teeth, and then \"splash, splash,\" he went\ninto the water, without touching him.\n\n\"Oh,\" sighed the duckling, \"how thankful I am for being so ugly; even a\ndog will not bite me.\"\n\nAnd so he lay quite still, while the shot rattled through the rushes,\nand gun after gun was fired over him. It was late in the day before all\nbecame quiet, but even then the poor young thing did not dare to move.\nHe waited quietly for several hours and then, after looking carefully\naround him, hastened away from the moor as fast as he could. He ran over\nfield and meadow till a storm arose, and he could hardly struggle\nagainst it.\n\nTowards evening he reached a poor little cottage that seemed ready to\nfall, and only seemed to remain standing because it could not decide on\nwhich side to fall first. The storm continued so violent that the\nduckling could go no farther. He sat down by the cottage, and then he\nnoticed that the door was not quite closed, in consequence of one of the\nhinges having given way. There was, therefore, a narrow opening near the\nbottom large enough for him to slip through, which he did very quietly,\nand got a shelter for the night. Here, in this cottage, lived a woman, a\ncat, and a hen. The cat, whom his mistress called \"My little son,\" was a\ngreat favorite; he could raise his back, and purr, and could even throw\nout sparks from his fur if it were stroked the wrong way. The hen had\nvery short legs, so she was called \"Chickie Short-legs.\" She laid good\neggs, and her mistress loved her as if she had been her own child. In\nthe morning the strange visitor was discovered; the cat began to purr\nand the hen to cluck.\n\n\"What is that noise about?\" said the old woman, looking around the room.\nBut her sight was not very good; therefore when she saw the duckling she\nthought it must be a fat duck that had strayed from home. \"Oh, what a\nprize!\" she exclaimed. \"I hope it is not a drake, for then I shall have\nsome ducks' eggs. I must wait and see.\"\n\nSo the duckling was allowed to remain on trial for three weeks; but\nthere were no eggs.\n\nNow the cat was the master of the house, and the hen was the mistress;\nand they always said, \"We and the world,\" for they believed themselves\nto be half the world, and by far the better half, too. The duckling\nthought that others might hold a different opinion on the subject, but\nthe hen would not listen to such doubts.\n\n\"Can you lay eggs?\" she asked. \"No.\" \"Then have the goodness to cease\ntalking.\" \"Can you raise your back, or purr, or throw out sparks?\" said\nthe cat. \"No.\" \"Then you have no right to express an opinion when\nsensible people are speaking.\" So the duckling sat in a corner, feeling\nvery low-spirited; but when the sunshine and the fresh air came into the\nroom through the open door, he began to feel such a great longing for a\nswim that he could not help speaking of it.\n\n\"What an absurd idea!\" said the hen. \"You have nothing else to do;\ntherefore you have foolish fancies. If you could purr or lay eggs, they\nwould pass away.\"\n\n\"But it is so delightful to swim about on the water,\" said the duckling,\n\"and so refreshing to feel it close over your head while you dive down\nto the bottom.\"\n\n\"Delightful, indeed! it must be a queer sort of pleasure,\" said the hen.\n\"Why, you must be crazy! Ask the cat--he is the cleverest animal I know;\nask him how he would like to swim about on the water, or to dive under\nit, for I will not speak of my own opinion. Ask our mistress, the old\nwoman; there is no one in the world more clever than she is. Do you\nthink she would relish swimming and letting the water close over her\nhead?\"\n\n\"I see you don't understand me,\" said the duckling.\n\n\"We don't understand you? Who can understand you, I wonder? Do you\nconsider yourself more clever than the cat or the old woman?--I will say\nnothing of myself. Don't imagine such nonsense, child, and thank your\ngood fortune that you have been so well received here. Are you not in a\nwarm room and in society from which you may learn something? But you are\na chatterer, and your company is not very agreeable. Believe me, I speak\nonly for your good. I may tell you unpleasant truths, but that is a\nproof of my friendship. I advise you, therefore, to lay eggs and learn\nto purr as quickly as possible.\"\n\n\"I believe I must go out into the world again,\" said the duckling.\n\n\"Yes, do,\" said the hen. So the duckling left the cottage and soon found\nwater on which it could swim and dive, but he was avoided by all other\nanimals because of his ugly appearance.\n\nAutumn came, and the leaves in the forest turned to orange and gold;\nthen, as winter approached, the wind caught them as they fell and\nwhirled them into the cold air. The clouds, heavy with hail and\nsnowflakes, hung low in the sky, and the raven stood among the reeds,\ncrying, \"Croak, croak.\" It made one shiver with cold to look at him. All\nthis was very sad for the poor little duckling.\n\nOne evening, just as the sun was setting amid radiant clouds, there came\na large flock of beautiful birds out of the bushes. The duckling had\nnever seen any like them before. They were swans; and they curved their\ngraceful necks, while their soft plumage shone with dazzling whiteness.\nThey uttered a singular cry as they spread their glorious wings and flew\naway from those cold regions to warmer countries across the sea. They\nmounted higher and higher in the air, and the ugly little duckling had a\nstrange sensation as he watched them. He whirled himself in the water\nlike a wheel, stretched out his neck towards them, and uttered a cry so\nstrange that it frightened even himself. Could he ever forget those\nbeautiful, happy birds! And when at last they were out of his sight, he\ndived under the water and rose again almost beside himself with\nexcitement. He knew not the names of these birds nor where they had\nflown, but he felt towards them as he had never felt towards any other\nbird in the world.\n\nHe was not envious of these beautiful creatures; it never occurred to\nhim to wish to be as lovely as they. Poor ugly creature, how gladly he\nwould have lived even with the ducks, had they only treated him kindly\nand given him encouragement.\n\nThe winter grew colder and colder; he was obliged to swim about on the\nwater to keep it from freezing, but every night the space on which he\nswam became smaller and smaller. At length it froze so hard that the ice\nin the water crackled as he moved, and the duckling had to paddle with\nhis legs as well as he could, to keep the space from closing up. He\nbecame exhausted at last and lay still and helpless, frozen fast in the\nice.\n\nEarly in the morning a peasant who was passing by saw what had happened.\nHe broke the ice in pieces with his wooden shoe and carried the duckling\nhome to his wife. The warmth revived the poor little creature; but when\nthe children wanted to play with him, the duckling thought they would do\nhim some harm, so he started up in terror, fluttered into the milk pan,\nand splashed the milk about the room. Then the woman clapped her hands,\nwhich frightened him still more. He flew first into the butter cask,\nthen into the meal tub and out again. What a condition he was in! The\nwoman screamed and struck at him with the tongs; the children laughed\nand screamed and tumbled over each other in their efforts to catch him,\nbut luckily he escaped. The door stood open; the poor creature could\njust manage to slip out among the bushes and lie down quite exhausted in\nthe newly fallen snow.\n\nIt would be very sad were I to relate all the misery and privations\nwhich the poor little duckling endured during the hard winter; but when\nit had passed he found himself lying one morning in a moor, amongst the\nrushes. He felt the warm sun shining and heard the lark singing and saw\nthat all around was beautiful spring.\n\nThen the young bird felt that his wings were strong, as he flapped them\nagainst his sides and rose high into the air. They bore him onwards\nuntil, before he well knew how it had happened, he found himself in a\nlarge garden. The apple trees were in full blossom, and the fragrant\nelders bent their long green branches down to the stream, which wound\nround a smooth lawn. Everything looked beautiful in the freshness of\nearly spring. From a thicket close by came three beautiful white swans,\nrustling their feathers and swimming lightly over the smooth water. The\nduckling saw these lovely birds and felt more strangely unhappy than\never.\n\n\"I will fly to these royal birds,\" he exclaimed, \"and they will kill me\nbecause, ugly as I am, I dare to approach them. But it does not matter;\nbetter be killed by them than pecked by the ducks, beaten by the hens,\npushed about by the maiden who feeds the poultry, or starved with hunger\nin the winter.\"\n\nThen he flew to the water and swam towards the beautiful swans. The\nmoment they espied the stranger they rushed to meet him with\noutstretched wings.\n\n\"Kill me,\" said the poor bird and he bent his head down to the surface\nof the water and awaited death.\n\nBut what did he see in the clear stream below? His own image--no longer\na dark-gray bird, ugly and disagreeable to look at, but a graceful and\nbeautiful swan.\n\nTo be born in a duck's nest in a farmyard is of no consequence to a bird\nif it is hatched from a swan's egg. He now felt glad at having suffered\nsorrow and trouble, because it enabled him to enjoy so much better all\nthe pleasure and happiness around him; for the great swans swam round\nthe newcomer and stroked his neck with their beaks, as a welcome.\n\nInto the garden presently came some little children and threw bread and\ncake into the water.\n\n[Illustration: The new one is the most beautiful of all...]\n\n\"See,\" cried the youngest, \"there is a new one;\" and the rest were\ndelighted, and ran to their father and mother, dancing and clapping\ntheir hands and shouting joyously, \"There is another swan come; a new\none has arrived.\"\n\nThen they threw more bread and cake into the water and said, \"The new\none is the most beautiful of all, he is so young and pretty.\" And the\nold swans bowed their heads before him.\n\nThen he felt quite ashamed and hid his head under his wing, for he did\nnot know what to do, he was so happy--yet he was not at all proud. He\nhad been persecuted and despised for his ugliness, and now he heard them\nsay he was the most beautiful of all the birds. Even the elder tree bent\ndown its boughs into the water before him, and the sun shone warm and\nbright. Then he rustled his feathers, curved his slender neck, and cried\njoyfully, from the depths of his heart, \"I never dreamed of such\nhappiness as this while I was the despised ugly duckling.\"\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS\n\n\n\"MY POOR flowers are quite faded!\" said little Ida. \"Only yesterday\nevening they were so pretty, and now all the leaves are drooping. Why do\nthey do that?\" she asked of the student, who sat on the sofa. He was a\ngreat favorite with her, because he used to tell her the prettiest of\nstories and cut out the most amusing things in paper--hearts with little\nladies dancing in them, and high castles with doors which one could open\nand shut. He was a merry student. \"Why do the flowers look so wretched\nto-day?\" asked she again, showing him a bouquet of faded flowers.\n\n\"Do you not know?\" replied the student. \"The flowers went to a ball last\nnight, and are tired. That's why they hang their heads.\"\n\n\"What an idea,\" exclaimed little Ida. \"Flowers cannot dance!\"\n\n\"Of course they can dance! When it is dark, and we are all gone to bed,\nthey jump about as merrily as possible. They have a ball almost every\nnight.\"\n\n\"And can their children go to the ball?\" asked Ida.\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" said the student; \"daisies and lilies of the valley, that are\nquite little.\"\n\n\"And when is it that the prettiest flowers dance?\"\n\n\"Have you not been to the large garden outside the town gate, in front\nof the castle where the king lives in summer--the garden that is so full\nof lovely flowers? You surely remember the swans which come swimming up\nwhen you give them crumbs of bread? Believe me, they have capital balls\nthere.\"\n\n\"I was out there only yesterday with my mother,\" said Ida, \"but there\nwere no leaves on the trees, and I did not see a single flower. What has\nbecome of them? There were so many in the summer.\"\n\n\"They are inside the palace now,\" replied the student. \"As soon as the\nking and all his court go back to the town, the flowers hasten out of\nthe garden and into the palace, where they have famous times. Oh, if you\ncould but see them! The two most beautiful roses seat themselves on the\nthrone and act king and queen. All the tall red cockscombs stand before\nthem on either side and bow; they are the chamberlains. Then all the\npretty flowers come, and there is a great ball. The blue violets\nrepresent the naval cadets; they dance with hyacinths and crocuses, who\ntake the part of young ladies. The tulips and the tall tiger lilies are\nold ladies,--dowagers,--who see to it that the dancing is well done and\nthat all things go on properly.\"\n\n\"But,\" asked little Ida, \"is there no one there to harm the flowers for\ndaring to dance in the king's castle?\"\n\n\"No one knows anything about it,\" replied the student. \"Once during the\nnight, perhaps, the old steward of the castle does, to be sure, come in\nwith his great bunch of keys to see that all is right; but the moment\nthe flowers hear the clanking of the keys they stand stock-still or\nhide themselves behind the long silk window curtains. Then the old\nsteward will say, 'Do I not smell flowers here?' but he can't see them.\"\n\n\"That is very funny,\" exclaimed little Ida, clapping her hands with\nglee; \"but should not I be able to see the flowers?\"\n\n\"To be sure you can see them,\" replied the student. \"You have only to\nremember to peep in at the windows the next time you go to the palace. I\ndid so this very day, and saw a long yellow lily lying on the sofa. She\nwas a court lady.\"\n\n\"Do the flowers in the Botanical Garden go to the ball? Can they go all\nthat long distance?\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" said the student; \"for the flowers can fly if they please.\nHave you not seen the beautiful red and yellow butterflies that look so\nmuch like flowers? They are in fact nothing else. They have flown off\ntheir stalks high into the air and flapped their little petals just as\nif they were wings, and thus they came to fly about. As a reward for\nalways behaving well they have leave to fly about in the daytime, too,\ninstead of sitting quietly on their stalks at home, till at last the\nflower petals have become real wings. That you have seen yourself.\n\n\"It may be, though, that the flowers in the Botanical Garden have never\nbeen in the king's castle. They may not have heard what frolics take\nplace there every night. But I'll tell you; if, the next time you go to\nthe garden, you whisper to one of the flowers that a great ball is to be\ngiven yonder in the castle, the news will spread from flower to flower\nand they will all fly away. Then should the professor come to his garden\nthere won't be a flower there, and he will not be able to imagine what\nhas become of them.\"\n\n\"But how can one flower tell it to another? for I am sure the flowers\ncannot speak.\"\n\n\"No; you are right there,\" returned the student. \"They cannot speak, but\nthey can make signs. Have you ever noticed that when the wind blows a\nlittle the flowers nod to each other and move all their green leaves?\nThey can make each other understand in this way just as well as we do by\ntalking.\"\n\n\"And does the professor understand their pantomime?\" asked Ida.\n\n\"Oh, certainly; at least part of it. He came into his garden one morning\nand saw that a great stinging nettle was making signs with its leaves to\na beautiful red carnation. It was saying, 'You are so beautiful, and I\nlove you with all my heart!' But the professor doesn't like that sort of\nthing, and he rapped the nettle on her leaves, which are her fingers;\nbut she stung him, and since then he has never dared to touch a nettle.\"\n\n\"Ha! ha!\" laughed little Ida, \"that is very funny.\"\n\n\"How can one put such stuff into a child's head?\" said a tiresome\ncouncilor, who had come to pay a visit. He did not like the student and\nalways used to scold when he saw him cutting out the droll pasteboard\nfigures, such as a man hanging on a gibbet and holding a heart in his\nhand to show that he was a stealer of hearts, or an old witch riding on\na broomstick and carrying her husband on the end of her nose. The\ncouncilor could not bear such jokes, and he would always say, as now:\n\"How can any one put such notions into a child's head? They are only\nfoolish fancies.\"\n\nBut to little Ida all that the student had told her was very\nentertaining, and she kept thinking it over. She was sure now that her\npretty yesterday's flowers hung their heads because they were tired, and\nthat they were tired because they had been to the ball. So she took them\nto the table where stood her toys. Her doll lay sleeping, but Ida said\nto her, \"You must get up, and be content to sleep to-night in the table\ndrawer, for the poor flowers are ill and must have your bed to sleep in;\nthen perhaps they will be well again by to-morrow.\"\n\nAnd she at once took the doll out, though the doll looked vexed at\ngiving up her cradle to the flowers.\n\nIda laid the flowers in the doll's bed and drew the coverlet quite over\nthem, telling them to lie still while she made some tea for them to\ndrink, in order that they might be well next day. And she drew the\ncurtains about the bed, that the sun might not shine into their eyes.\n\nAll the evening she thought of nothing but what the student had told\nher; and when she went to bed herself, she ran to the window where her\nmother's tulips and hyacinths stood. She whispered to them, \"I know very\nwell that you are going to a ball to-night.\" The flowers pretended not\nto understand and did not stir so much as a leaf, but that did not\nprevent Ida from knowing what she knew.\n\nWhen she was in bed she lay for a long time thinking how delightful it\nmust be to see the flower dance in the king's castle, and said to\nherself, \"I wonder if my flowers have really been there.\" Then she fell\nasleep.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn the night she woke. She had been dreaming of the student and the\nflowers and the councilor, who told her they were making game of her.\nAll was still in the room, the night lamp was burning on the table, and\nher father and mother were both asleep.\n\n\"I wonder if my flowers are still lying in Sophie's bed,\" she thought to\nherself. \"How I should like to know!\" She raised herself a little and\nlooked towards the door, which stood half open; within lay the flowers\nand all her playthings. She listened, and it seemed to her that she\nheard some one playing upon the piano, but quite softly, and more\nsweetly than she had ever heard before.\n\n\"Now all the flowers are certainly dancing,\" thought she. \"Oh, how I\nshould like to see them!\" but she dared not get up for fear of waking\nher father and mother. \"If they would only come in here!\" But the\nflowers did not come, and the music went on so prettily that she could\nrestrain herself no longer, and she crept out of her little bed, stole\nsoftly to the door, and peeped into the room. Oh, what a pretty sight it\nwas!\n\n[Illustration: On the floor all the flowers danced gracefully....]\n\nThere was no night lamp in the room, still it was quite bright; the moon\nshone through the window down upon the floor, and it was almost like\ndaylight. The hyacinths and tulips stood there in two rows. Not one was\nleft on the window, where stood the empty flower pots. On the floor all\nthe flowers danced gracefully, making all the turns, and holding each\nother by their long green leaves as they twirled around. At the piano\nsat a large yellow lily, which little Ida remembered to have seen in the\nsummer, for she recollected that the student had said, \"How like she\nis to Miss Laura,\" and how every one had laughed at the remark. But now\nshe really thought that the lily was very like the young lady. It had\nexactly her manner of playing--bending its long yellow face, now to one\nside and now to the other, and nodding its head to mark the time of the\nbeautiful music.\n\nA tall blue crocus now stepped forward, sprang upon the table on which\nlay Ida's playthings, went straight to the doll's cradle, and drew back\nthe curtains. There lay the sick flowers; but they rose at once, greeted\nthe other flowers, and made a sign that they would like to join in the\ndance. They did not look at all ill now.\n\nSuddenly a heavy noise was heard, as of something falling from the\ntable. Ida glanced that way and saw that it was the rod she had found on\nher bed on Shrove Tuesday, and that it seemed to wish to belong to the\nflowers. It was a pretty rod, for a wax figure that looked exactly like\nthe councilor sat upon the head of it.\n\nThe rod began to dance, and the wax figure that was riding on it became\nlong and great, like the councilor himself, and began to exclaim, \"How\ncan one put such stuff into a child's head?\" It was very funny to see,\nand little Ida could not help laughing, for the rod kept on dancing, and\nthe councilor had to dance too,--there was no help for it,--whether he\nremained tall and big or became a little wax figure again. But the other\nflowers said a good word for him, especially those that had lain in the\ndoll's bed, so that at last the rod left it in peace.\n\nAt the same time there was a loud knocking inside the drawer where\nSophie, Ida's doll, lay with many other toys. She put out her head and\nasked in great astonishment: \"Is there a ball here? Why has no one told\nme of it?\" She sat down upon the table, expecting some of the flowers to\nask her to dance with them; but as they did not, she let herself fall\nupon the floor so as to make a great noise; and then the flowers all\ncame crowding about to ask if she were hurt, and they were very\npolite--especially those that had lain in her bed.\n\nShe was not at all hurt, and the flowers thanked her for the use of her\npretty bed and took her into the middle of the room, where the moon\nshone, and danced with her, while the other flowers formed a circle\naround them. So now Sophie was pleased and said they might keep her bed,\nfor she did not mind sleeping in the drawer the least in the world.\n\nBut the flowers replied: \"We thank you most heartily for your kindness,\nbut we shall not live long enough to need it; we shall be quite dead by\nto-morrow. But tell little Ida she is to bury us out in the garden near\nthe canary bird's grave; and then we shall wake again next summer and be\neven more beautiful than we have been this year.\"\n\n\"Oh, no, you must not die,\" said Sophie, kissing them as she spoke; and\nthen a great company of flowers came dancing in. Ida could not imagine\nwhere they could have come from, unless from the king's garden. Two\nbeautiful roses led the way, wearing golden crowns; then followed\nwallflowers and pinks, who bowed to all present. They brought a band of\nmusic with them. Wild hyacinths and little white snowdrops jingled merry\nbells. It was a most remarkable orchestra. Following these were an\nimmense number of flowers, all dancing--violets, daisies, lilies of the\nvalley, and others which it was a delight to see.\n\nAt last all the happy flowers wished one another good night. Little Ida,\ntoo, crept back to bed, to dream of all that she had seen.\n\nWhen she rose next morning she went at once to her little table to see\nif her flowers were there. She drew aside the curtains of her little\nbed; yes, there lay the flowers, but they were much more faded to-day\nthan yesterday. Sophie too was in the drawer, but she looked very\nsleepy.\n\n\"Do you remember what you were to say to me?\" asked Ida of her.\n\nBut Sophie looked quite stupid and had not a word to say.\n\n\"You are not kind at all,\" said Ida; \"and yet all the flowers let you\ndance with them.\"\n\nThen she chose from her playthings a little pasteboard box with birds\npainted on it, and in it she laid the dead flowers.\n\n\"That shall be your pretty casket,\" said she; \"and when my cousins come\nto visit me, by and by, they shall help me to bury you in the garden,\nin order that next summer you may grow again and be still more\nbeautiful.\"\n\nThe two cousins were two merry boys, Gustave and Adolphe. Their father\nhad given them each a new crossbow, which they brought with them to show\nto Ida. She told them of the poor flowers that were dead and were to be\nburied in the garden. So the two boys walked in front, with their bows\nslung across their shoulders, and little Ida followed, carrying the dead\nflowers in their pretty coffin. A little grave was dug for them in the\ngarden. Ida first kissed the flowers and then laid them in the earth,\nand Adolphe and Gustave shot with their crossbows over the grave, for\nthey had neither guns nor cannons.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE STEADFAST TIN SOLDIER\n\n\nTHERE were once five and twenty tin soldiers. They were brothers, for\nthey had all been made out of the same old tin spoon. They all\nshouldered their bayonets, held themselves upright, and looked straight\nbefore them. Their uniforms were very smart-looking--red and blue--and\nvery splendid. The first thing they heard in the world, when the lid was\ntaken off the box in which they lay, was the words \"Tin soldiers!\" These\nwords were spoken by a little boy, who clapped his hands for joy. The\nsoldiers had been given him because it was his birthday, and now he was\nputting them out upon the table.\n\nEach was exactly like the rest to a hair, except one who had but one\nleg. He had been cast last of all, and there had not been quite enough\ntin to finish him; but he stood as firmly upon his one leg as the\nothers upon their two, and it was he whose fortunes became so\nremarkable.\n\nOn the table where the tin soldiers had been set up were several other\ntoys, but the one that attracted most attention was a pretty little\npaper castle. Through its tiny windows one could see straight into the\nhall. In front of the castle stood little trees, clustering round a\nsmall mirror which was meant to represent a transparent lake. Swans of\nwax swam upon its surface, and it reflected back their images.\n\nAll this was very pretty, but prettiest of all was a little lady who\nstood at the castle's open door. She too was cut out of paper, but she\nwore a frock of the clearest gauze and a narrow blue ribbon over her\nshoulders, like a scarf, and in the middle of the ribbon was placed a\nshining tinsel rose. The little lady stretched out both her arms, for\nshe was a dancer, and then she lifted one leg so high that the Soldier\nquite lost sight of it. He thought that, like himself, she had but one\nleg.\n\n\"That would be just the wife for me,\" thought he, \"if she were not too\ngrand. But she lives in a castle, while I have only a box, and there are\nfive and twenty of us in that. It would be no place for a lady. Still, I\nmust try to make her acquaintance.\" A snuffbox happened to be upon the\ntable and he lay down at full length behind it, and here he could easily\nwatch the dainty little lady, who still remained standing on one leg\nwithout losing her balance.\n\nWhen the evening came all the other tin soldiers were put away in their\nbox, and the people in the house went to bed. Now the playthings began\nto play in their turn. They visited, fought battles, and gave balls. The\ntin soldiers rattled in the box, for they wished to join the rest, but\nthey could not lift the lid. The nutcrackers turned somersaults, and the\npencil jumped about in a most amusing way. There was such a din that the\ncanary woke and began to speak--and in verse, too. The only ones who did\nnot move from their places were the Tin Soldier and the Lady Dancer. She\nstood on tiptoe with outstretched arms, and he was just as persevering\non his one leg; he never once turned away his eyes from her.\n\nTwelve o'clock struck--crash! up sprang the lid of the snuffbox. There\nwas no snuff in it, but a little black goblin. You see it was not a real\nsnuffbox, but a jack-in-the-box.\n\n\"Tin Soldier,\" said the Goblin, \"keep thine eyes to thyself. Gaze not at\nwhat does not concern thee!\"\n\nBut the Tin Soldier pretended not to hear.\n\n\"Only wait, then, till to-morrow,\" remarked the Goblin.\n\nNext morning, when the children got up, the Tin Soldier was placed on\nthe window sill, and, whether it was the Goblin or the wind that did it,\nall at once the window flew open and the Tin Soldier fell head foremost\nfrom the third story to the street below. It was a tremendous fall! Over\nand over he turned in the air, till at last he rested, his cap and\nbayonet sticking fast between the paving stones, while his one leg stood\nupright in the air.\n\n[Illustration: Away he sailed ... down the gutter...]\n\nThe maidservant and the little boy came down at once to look for him,\nbut, though they nearly trod upon him, they could not manage to find\nhim. If the Soldier had but once called \"Here am I!\" they might easily\nenough have heard him, but he did not think it becoming to cry out for\nhelp, being in uniform.\n\nIt now began to rain; faster and faster fell the drops, until there was\na heavy shower; and when it was over, two street boys came by.\n\n\"Look you,\" said one, \"there lies a tin soldier. He must come out and\nsail in a boat.\"\n\nSo they made a boat out of an old newspaper and put the Tin Soldier in\nthe middle of it, and away he sailed down the gutter, while the boys ran\nalong by his side, clapping their hands.\n\nGoodness! how the waves rocked that paper boat, and how fast the stream\nran! The Tin Soldier became quite giddy, the boat veered round so\nquickly; still he moved not a muscle, but looked straight before him and\nheld his bayonet tightly.\n\nAll at once the boat passed into a drain, and it became as dark as his\nown old home in the box. \"Where am I going now?\" thought he. \"Yes, to be\nsure, it is all that Goblin's doing. Ah! if the little lady were but\nsailing with me in the boat, I would not care if it were twice as\ndark.\"\n\nJust then a great water rat, that lived under the drain, darted suddenly\nout.\n\n\"Have you a passport?\" asked the rat. \"Where is your passport?\"\n\nBut the Tin Soldier kept silence and only held his bayonet with a firmer\ngrasp.\n\nThe boat sailed on, but the rat followed. Whew! how he gnashed his teeth\nand cried to the sticks and straws: \"Stop him! stop him! He hasn't paid\ntoll! He hasn't shown his passport!\"\n\nBut the stream grew stronger and stronger. Already the Tin Soldier could\nsee daylight at the point where the tunnel ended; but at the same time\nhe heard a rushing, roaring noise, at which a bolder man might have\ntrembled. Think! just where the tunnel ended, the drain widened into a\ngreat sheet that fell into the mouth of a sewer. It was as perilous a\nsituation for the Soldier as sailing down a mighty waterfall would be\nfor us.\n\nHe was now so near it that he could not stop. The boat dashed on, and\nthe Tin Soldier held himself so well that no one might say of him that\nhe so much as winked an eye. Three or four times the boat whirled round\nand round; it was full of water to the brim and must certainly sink.\n\nThe Tin Soldier stood up to his neck in water; deeper and deeper sank\nthe boat, softer and softer grew the paper; and now the water closed\nover the Soldier's head. He thought of the pretty little dancer whom he\nshould never see again, and in his ears rang the words of the song:\n\n          Wild adventure, mortal danger,\n          Be thy portion, valiant stranger.\n\nThe paper boat parted in the middle, and the Soldier was about to sink,\nwhen he was swallowed by a great fish.\n\nOh, how dark it was! darker even than in the drain, and so narrow; but\nthe Tin Soldier retained his courage; there he lay at full length,\nshouldering his bayonet as before.\n\nTo and fro swam the fish, turning and twisting and making the strangest\nmovements, till at last he became perfectly still.\n\nSomething like a flash of daylight passed through him, and a voice said,\n\"Tin Soldier!\" The fish had been caught, taken to market, sold and\nbought, and taken to the kitchen, where the cook had cut him with a\nlarge knife. She seized the Tin Soldier between her finger and thumb and\ntook him to the room where the family sat, and where all were eager to\nsee the celebrated man who had traveled in the maw of a fish; but the\nTin Soldier remained unmoved. He was not at all proud.\n\nThey set him upon the table there. But how could so curious a thing\nhappen? The Soldier was in the very same room in which he had been\nbefore. He saw the same children, the same toys stood upon the table,\nand among them the pretty dancing maiden, who still stood upon one leg.\nShe too was steadfast. That touched the Tin Soldier's heart. He could\nhave wept tin tears, but that would not have been proper. He looked at\nher and she looked at him, but neither spoke a word.\n\nAnd now one of the little boys took the Tin Soldier and threw him into\nthe stove. He gave no reason for doing so, but no doubt the Goblin in\nthe snuffbox had something to do with it.\n\nThe Tin Soldier stood now in a blaze of red light. The heat he felt was\nterrible, but whether it proceeded from the fire or from the love in his\nheart, he did not know. He saw that the colors were quite gone from his\nuniform, but whether that had happened on the journey or had been caused\nby grief, no one could say. He looked at the little lady, she looked at\nhim, and he felt himself melting; still he stood firm as ever, with his\nbayonet on his shoulder. Then suddenly the door flew open; the wind\ncaught the Dancer, and she flew straight into the stove to the Tin\nSoldier, flashed up in a flame, and was gone! The Tin Soldier melted\ninto a lump; and in the ashes the maid found him next day, in the shape\nof a little tin heart, while of the Dancer nothing remained save the\ntinsel rose, and that was burned as black as a coal.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE THUMBELINA\n\n\nTHERE was once a woman who wished very much to have a little child. She\nwent to a fairy and said: \"I should so very much like to have a little\nchild. Can you tell me where I can find one?\"\n\n\"Oh, that can be easily managed,\" said the fairy. \"Here is a barleycorn;\nit is not exactly of the same sort as those which grow in the farmers'\nfields, and which the chickens eat. Put it into a flowerpot and see what\nwill happen.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" said the woman; and she gave the fairy twelve shillings,\nwhich was the price of the barleycorn. Then she went home and planted\nit, and there grew up a large, handsome flower, somewhat like a tulip in\nappearance, but with its leaves tightly closed, as if it were still a\nbud.\n\n\"It is a beautiful flower,\" said the woman, and she kissed the red and\ngolden-colored petals; and as she did so the flower opened, and she\ncould see that it was a real tulip. But within the flower, upon the\ngreen velvet stamens, sat a very delicate and graceful little maiden.\nShe was scarcely half as long as a thumb, and they gave her the name of\nLittle Thumb, or Thumbelina, because she was so small.\n\nA walnut shell, elegantly polished, served her for a cradle; her bed was\nformed of blue violet leaves, with a rose leaf for a counterpane. Here\nshe slept at night, but during the day she amused herself on a table,\nwhere the peasant wife had placed a plate full of water.\n\nRound this plate were wreaths of flowers with their stems in the water,\nand upon it floated a large tulip leaf, which served the little one for\na boat. Here she sat and rowed herself from side to side, with two oars\nmade of white horsehair. It was a very pretty sight. Thumbelina could\nalso sing so softly and sweetly that nothing like her singing had ever\nbefore been heard.\n\nOne night, while she lay in her pretty bed, a large, ugly, wet toad\ncrept through a broken pane of glass in the window and leaped right upon\nthe table where she lay sleeping under her rose-leaf quilt.\n\n\"What a pretty little wife this would make for my son,\" said the toad,\nand she took up the walnut shell in which Thumbelina lay asleep, and\njumped through the window with it, into the garden.\n\nIn the swampy margin of a broad stream in the garden lived the toad with\nher son. He was uglier even than his mother; and when he saw the pretty\nlittle maiden in her elegant bed, he could only cry \"Croak, croak,\ncroak.\"\n\n\"Don't speak so loud, or she will wake,\" said the toad, \"and then she\nmight run away, for she is as light as swan's-down. We will place her on\none of the water-lily leaves out in the stream; it will be like an\nisland to her, she is so light and small, and then she cannot escape;\nand while she is there we will make haste and prepare the stateroom\nunder the marsh, in which you are to live when you are married.\"\n\nFar out in the stream grew a number of water lilies with broad green\nleaves which seemed to float on the top of the water. The largest of\nthese leaves appeared farther off than the rest, and the old toad swam\nout to it with the walnut shell, in which Thumbelina still lay asleep.\n\nThe tiny creature woke very early in the morning and began to cry\nbitterly when she found where she was, for she could see nothing but\nwater on every side of the large green leaf, and no way of reaching the\nland.\n\nMeanwhile the old toad was very busy under the marsh, decking her room\nwith rushes and yellow wildflowers, to make it look pretty for her new\ndaughter-in-law. Then she swam out with her ugly son to the leaf on\nwhich she had placed poor Thumbelina. She wanted to bring the pretty\nbed, that she might put it in the bridal chamber to be ready for her.\nThe old toad bowed low to her in the water and said, \"Here is my son; he\nwill be your husband, and you will live happily together in the marsh by\nthe stream.\"\n\n\"Croak, croak, croak,\" was all her son could say for himself. So the\ntoad took up the elegant little bed and swam away with it, leaving\nThumbelina all alone on the green leaf, where she sat and wept. She\ncould not bear to think of living with the old toad and having her ugly\nson for a husband. The little fishes who swam about in the water beneath\nhad seen the toad and heard what she said, so now they lifted their\nheads above the water to look at the little maiden.\n\nAs soon as they caught sight of her they saw she was very pretty, and it\nvexed them to think that she must go and live with the ugly toads.\n\n\"No, it must never be!\" So they gathered together in the water, round\nthe green stalk which held the leaf on which the little maiden stood,\nand gnawed it away at the root with their teeth. Then the leaf floated\ndown the stream, carrying Thumbelina far away out of reach of land.\n\nThumbelina sailed past many towns, and the little birds in the bushes\nsaw her and sang, \"What a lovely little creature.\" So the leaf swam away\nwith her farther and farther, till it brought her to other lands. A\ngraceful little white butterfly constantly fluttered round her and at\nlast alighted on the leaf. The little maiden pleased him, and she was\nglad of it, for now the toad could not possibly reach her, and the\ncountry through which she sailed was beautiful, and the sun shone upon\nthe water till it glittered like liquid gold. She took off her girdle\nand tied one end of it round the butterfly, fastening the other end of\nthe ribbon to the leaf, which now glided on much faster than before,\ntaking Thumbelina with it as she stood.\n\nPresently a large cockchafer flew by. The moment he caught sight of her\nhe seized her round her delicate waist with his claws and flew with her\ninto a tree. The green leaf floated away on the brook, and the butterfly\nflew with it, for he was fastened to it and could not get away.\n\nOh, how frightened Thumbelina felt when the cockchafer flew with her to\nthe tree! But especially was she sorry for the beautiful white butterfly\nwhich she had fastened to the leaf, for if he could not free himself he\nwould die of hunger. But the cockchafer did not trouble himself at all\nabout the matter. He seated himself by her side, on a large green leaf,\ngave her some honey from the flowers to eat, and told her she was very\npretty, though not in the least like a cockchafer.\n\n[Illustration: Glided on much faster than before....]\n\nAfter a time all the cockchafers who lived in the tree came to pay\nThumbelina a visit. They stared at her, and then the young lady\ncockchafers turned up their feelers and said, \"She has only two legs!\nhow ugly that looks.\" \"She has no feelers,\" said another. \"Her waist is\nquite slim. Pooh! she is like a human being.\"\n\n\"Oh, she is ugly,\" said all the lady cockchafers. The cockchafer who had\nrun away with her believed all the others when they said she was ugly.\nHe would have nothing more to say to her, and told her she might go\nwhere she liked. Then he flew down with her from the tree and placed her\non a daisy, and she wept at the thought that she was so ugly that even\nthe cockchafers would have nothing to say to her. And all the while she\nwas really the loveliest creature that one could imagine, and as tender\nand delicate as a beautiful rose leaf.\n\nDuring the whole summer poor little Thumbelina lived quite alone in the\nwide forest. She wove herself a bed with blades of grass and hung it up\nunder a broad leaf, to protect herself from the rain. She sucked the\nhoney from the flowers for food and drank the dew from their leaves\nevery morning.\n\nSo passed away the summer and the autumn, and then came the winter--the\nlong, cold winter. All the birds who had sung to her so sweetly had\nflown away, and the trees and the flowers had withered. The large\nshamrock under the shelter of which she had lived was now rolled\ntogether and shriveled up; nothing remained but a yellow, withered\nstalk. She felt dreadfully cold, for her clothes were torn, and she was\nherself so frail and delicate that she was nearly frozen to death. It\nbegan to snow, too; and the snowflakes, as they fell upon her, were like\na whole shovelful falling upon one of us, for we are tall, but she was\nonly an inch high. She wrapped herself in a dry leaf, but it cracked in\nthe middle and could not keep her warm, and she shivered with cold.\n\nNear the wood in which she had been living was a large cornfield, but\nthe corn had been cut a long time; nothing remained but the bare, dry\nstubble, standing up out of the frozen ground. It was to her like\nstruggling through a large wood.\n\nOh! how she shivered with the cold. She came at last to the door of a\nfield mouse, who had a little den under the corn stubble. There dwelt\nthe field mouse in warmth and comfort, with a whole roomful of corn, a\nkitchen, and a beautiful dining room. Poor Thumbelina stood before the\ndoor, just like a little beggar girl, and asked for a small piece of\nbarleycorn, for she had been without a morsel to eat for two days.\n\n\"You poor little creature,\" said the field mouse, for she was really a\ngood old mouse, \"come into my warm room and dine with me.\"\n\nShe was pleased with Thumbelina, so she said, \"You are quite welcome to\nstay with me all the winter, if you like; but you must keep my rooms\nclean and neat, and tell me stories, for I shall like to hear them very\nmuch.\" And Thumbelina did all that the field mouse asked her, and found\nherself very comfortable.\n\n\"We shall have a visitor soon,\" said the field mouse one day; \"my\nneighbor pays me a visit once a week. He is better off than I am; he has\nlarge rooms, and wears a beautiful black velvet coat. If you could only\nhave him for a husband, you would be well provided for indeed. But he\nis blind, so you must tell him some of your prettiest stories.\"\n\nThumbelina did not feel at all interested about this neighbor, for he\nwas a mole. However, he came and paid his visit, dressed in his black\nvelvet coat.\n\n\"He is very rich and learned, and his house is twenty times larger than\nmine,\" said the field mouse.\n\nHe was rich and learned, no doubt, but he always spoke slightingly of\nthe sun and the pretty flowers, because he had never seen them.\nThumbelina was obliged to sing to him, \"Ladybird, ladybird, fly away\nhome,\" and many other pretty songs. And the mole fell in love with her\nbecause she had so sweet a voice; but he said nothing yet, for he was\nvery prudent and cautious. A short time before, the mole had dug a long\npassage under the earth, which led from the dwelling of the field mouse\nto his own, and here she had permission to walk with Thumbelina whenever\nshe liked. But he warned them not to be alarmed at the sight of a dead\nbird which lay in the passage. It was a perfect bird, with a beak and\nfeathers, and could not have been dead long. It was lying just where the\nmole had made his passage. The mole took in his mouth a piece of\nphosphorescent wood, which glittered like fire in the dark. Then he went\nbefore them to light them through the long, dark passage. When they came\nto the spot where the dead bird lay, the mole pushed his broad nose\nthrough the ceiling, so that the earth gave way and the daylight shone\ninto the passage.\n\nIn the middle of the floor lay a swallow, his beautiful wings pulled\nclose to his sides, his feet and head drawn up under his feathers--the\npoor bird had evidently died of the cold. It made little Thumbelina very\nsad to see it, she did so love the little birds; all the summer they had\nsung and twittered for her so beautifully. But the mole pushed it aside\nwith his crooked legs and said: \"He will sing no more now. How miserable\nit must be to be born a little bird! I am thankful that none of my\nchildren will ever be birds, for they can do nothing but cry 'Tweet,\ntweet,' and must always die of hunger in the winter.\"\n\n\"Yes, you may well say that, as a clever man!\" exclaimed the field\nmouse. \"What is the use of his twittering if, when winter comes, he must\neither starve or be frozen to death? Still, birds are very high bred.\"\n\nThumbelina said nothing, but when the two others had turned their backs\nupon the bird, she stooped down and stroked aside the soft feathers\nwhich covered his head, and kissed the closed eyelids. \"Perhaps this was\nthe one who sang to me so sweetly in the summer,\" she said; \"and how\nmuch pleasure it gave me, you dear, pretty bird.\"\n\nThe mole now stopped up the hole through which the daylight shone, and\nthen accompanied the ladies home. But during the night Thumbelina could\nnot sleep; so she got out of bed and wove a large, beautiful carpet of\nhay. She carried it to the dead bird and spread it over him, with some\ndown from the flowers which she had found in the field mouse's room. It\nwas as soft as wool, and she spread some of it on each side of the bird,\nso that he might lie warmly in the cold earth.\n\n\"Farewell, pretty little bird,\" said she, \"farewell. Thank you for your\ndelightful singing during the summer, when all the trees were green and\nthe warm sun shone upon us.\" Then she laid her head on the bird's\nbreast, but she was alarmed, for it seemed as if something inside the\nbird went \"thump, thump.\" It was the bird's heart; he was not really\ndead, only benumbed with the cold, and the warmth had restored him to\nlife. In autumn all the swallows fly away into warm countries; but if\none happens to linger, the cold seizes it, and it becomes chilled and\nfalls down as if dead. It remains where it fell, and the cold snow\ncovers it.\n\nThumbelina trembled very much; she was quite frightened, for the bird\nwas large, a great deal larger than herself (she was only an inch high).\nBut she took courage, laid the wool more thickly over the poor swallow,\nand then took a leaf which she had used for her own counterpane and laid\nit over his head.\n\nThe next night she again stole out to see him. He was alive, but very\nweak; he could only open his eyes for a moment to look at Thumbelina,\nwho stood by, holding a piece of decayed wood in her hand, for she had\nno other lantern. \"Thank you, pretty little maiden,\" said the sick\nswallow; \"I have been so nicely warmed that I shall soon regain my\nstrength and be able to fly about again in the warm sunshine.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said she, \"it is cold out of doors now; it snows and freezes. Stay\nin your warm bed; I will take care of you.\"\n\nShe brought the swallow some water in a flower leaf, and after he had\ndrunk, he told her that he had wounded one of his wings in a thornbush\nand could not fly as fast as the others, who were soon far away on their\njourney to warm countries. At last he had fallen to the earth, and could\nremember nothing more, nor how he came to be where she had found him.\n\nAll winter the swallow remained underground, and Thumbelina nursed him\nwith care and love. She did not tell either the mole or the field mouse\nanything about it, for they did not like swallows. Very soon the\nspringtime came, and the sun warmed the earth. Then the swallow bade\nfarewell to Thumbelina, and she opened the hole in the ceiling which\nthe mole had made. The sun shone in upon them so beautifully that the\nswallow asked her if she would go with him. She could sit on his back,\nhe said, and he would fly away with her into the green woods. But she\nknew it would grieve the field mouse if she left her in that manner, so\nshe said, \"No, I cannot.\"\n\n\"Farewell, then, farewell, you good, pretty little maiden,\" said the\nswallow, and he flew out into the sunshine.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThumbelina looked after him, and the tears rose in her eyes. She was\nvery fond of the poor swallow.\n\n\"Tweet, tweet,\" sang the bird, as he flew out into the green woods, and\nThumbelina felt very sad. She was not allowed to go out into the warm\nsunshine. The corn which had been sowed in the field over the house of\nthe field mouse had grown up high into the air and formed a thick wood\nto Thumbelina, who was only an inch in height.\n\n[Illustration: Nothing must be wanting when you are the wife of the mole\n...]\n\n\"You are going to be married, little one,\" said the field mouse. \"My\nneighbor has asked for you. What good fortune for a poor child like\nyou! Now we will prepare your wedding clothes. They must be woolen and\nlinen. Nothing must be wanting when you are the wife of the mole.\"\n\nThumbelina had to turn the spindle, and the field mouse hired four\nspiders, who were to weave day and night. Every evening the mole visited\nher and was continually speaking of the time when the summer would be\nover. Then he would keep his wedding day with Thumbelina; but now the\nheat of the sun was so great that it burned the earth and made it hard,\nlike stone. As soon as the summer was over the wedding should take\nplace. But Thumbelina was not at all pleased, for she did not like the\ntiresome mole.\n\nEvery morning when the sun rose and every evening when it went down she\nwould creep out at the door, and as the wind blew aside the ears of corn\nso that she could see the blue sky, she thought how beautiful and bright\nit seemed out there and wished so much to see her dear friend, the\nswallow, again. But he never returned, for by this time he had flown far\naway into the lovely green forest.\n\nWhen autumn arrived Thumbelina had her outfit quite ready, and the field\nmouse said to her, \"In four weeks the wedding must take place.\"\n\nThen she wept and said she would not marry the disagreeable mole.\n\n\"Nonsense,\" replied the field mouse. \"Now don't be obstinate, or I shall\nbite you with my white teeth. He is a very handsome mole; the queen\nherself does not wear more beautiful velvets and furs. His kitchens and\ncellars are quite full. You ought to be very thankful for such good\nfortune.\"\n\nSo the wedding day was fixed, on which the mole was to take her away to\nlive with him, deep under the earth, and never again to see the warm\nsun, because _he_ did not like it. The poor child was very unhappy at\nthe thought of saying farewell to the beautiful sun, and as the field\nmouse had given her permission to stand at the door, she went to look at\nit once more.\n\n\"Farewell, bright sun,\" she cried, stretching out her arm towards it;\nand then she walked a short distance from the house, for the corn had\nbeen cut, and only the dry stubble remained in the fields. \"Farewell,\nfarewell,\" she repeated, twining her arm around a little red flower that\ngrew just by her side. \"Greet the little swallow from me, if you should\nsee him again.\"\n\n\"Tweet, tweet,\" sounded over her head suddenly. She looked up, and there\nwas the swallow himself flying close by. As soon as he spied Thumbelina\nhe was delighted. She told him how unwilling she was to marry the ugly\nmole, and to live always beneath the earth, nevermore to see the bright\nsun. And as she told him, she wept.\n\n\"Cold winter is coming,\" said the swallow, \"and I am going to fly away\ninto warmer countries. Will you go with me? You can sit on my back and\nfasten yourself on with your sash. Then we can fly away from the ugly\nmole and his gloomy rooms--far away, over the mountains, into warmer\ncountries, where the sun shines more brightly than here; where it is\nalways summer, and the flowers bloom in greater beauty. Fly now with me,\ndear little one; you saved my life when I lay frozen in that dark,\ndreary passage.\"\n\n\"Yes, I will go with you,\" said Thumbelina; and she seated herself on\nthe bird's back, with her feet on his outstretched wings, and tied her\ngirdle to one of his strongest feathers.\n\nThe swallow rose in the air and flew over forest and over sea--high\nabove the highest mountains, covered with eternal snow. Thumbelina would\nhave been frozen in the cold air, but she crept under the bird's warm\nfeathers, keeping her little head uncovered, so that she might admire\nthe beautiful lands over which they passed. At length they reached the\nwarm countries, where the sun shines brightly and the sky seems so much\nhigher above the earth. Here on the hedges and by the wayside grew\npurple, green, and white grapes, lemons and oranges hung from trees in\nthe fields, and the air was fragrant with myrtles and orange blossoms.\nBeautiful children ran along the country lanes, playing with large gay\nbutterflies; and as the swallow flew farther and farther, every place\nappeared still more lovely.\n\nAt last they came to a blue lake, and by the side of it, shaded by trees\nof the deepest green, stood a palace of dazzling white marble, built in\nthe olden times. Vines clustered round its lofty pillars, and at the\ntop were many swallows' nests, and one of these was the home of the\nswallow who carried Thumbelina.\n\n\"This is my house,\" said the swallow; \"but it would not do for you to\nlive there--you would not be comfortable. You must choose for yourself\none of those lovely flowers, and I will put you down upon it, and then\nyou shall have everything that you can wish to make you happy.\"\n\n\"That will be delightful,\" she said, and clapped her little hands for\njoy.\n\nA large marble pillar lay on the ground, which, in falling, had been\nbroken into three pieces. Between these pieces grew the most beautiful\nlarge white flowers, so the swallow flew down with Thumbelina and placed\nher on one of the broad leaves. But how surprised she was to see in the\nmiddle of the flower a tiny little man, as white and transparent as if\nhe had been made of crystal! He had a gold crown on his head, and\ndelicate wings at his shoulders, and was not much larger than was she\nherself. He was the angel of the flower, for a tiny man and a tiny woman\ndwell in every flower, and this was the king of them all.\n\n\"Oh, how beautiful he is!\" whispered Thumbelina to the swallow.\n\nThe little prince was at first quite frightened at the bird, who was\nlike a giant compared to such a delicate little creature as himself; but\nwhen he saw Thumbelina he was delighted and thought her the prettiest\nlittle maiden he had ever seen. He took the gold crown from his head and\nplaced it on hers, and asked her name and if she would be his wife and\nqueen over all the flowers.\n\nThis certainly was a very different sort of husband from the son of the\ntoad, or the mole with his black velvet and fur, so she said Yes to the\nhandsome prince. Then all the flowers opened, and out of each came a\nlittle lady or a tiny lord, all so pretty it was quite a pleasure to\nlook at them. Each of them brought Thumbelina a present; but the best\ngift was a pair of beautiful wings, which had belonged to a large white\nfly, and they fastened them to Thumbelina's shoulders, so that she might\nfly from flower to flower.\n\nThen there was much rejoicing, and the little swallow, who sat above\nthem in his nest, was asked to sing a wedding song, which he did as\nwell as he could; but in his heart he felt sad, for he was very fond of\nThumbelina and would have liked never to part from her again.\n\n\"You must not be called Thumbelina any more,\" said the spirit of the\nflowers to her. \"It is an ugly name, and you are so very lovely. We will\ncall you Maia.\"\n\n\"Farewell, farewell,\" said the swallow, with a heavy heart, as he left\nthe warm countries, to fly back into Denmark. There he had a nest over\nthe window of a house in which dwelt the writer of fairy tales. The\nswallow sang \"Tweet, tweet,\" and from his song came the whole story.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nSUNSHINE STORIES\n\n\n\"I AM going to tell a story,\" said the Wind.\n\n\"I beg your pardon,\" said the Rain, \"but now it is my turn. Have you not\nbeen howling round the corner this long time, as hard as ever you\ncould?\"\n\n\"Is this the gratitude you owe me?\" said the Wind; \"I, who in honor of\nyou turn inside out--yes, even break--all the umbrellas, when the people\nwon't have anything to do with you.\"\n\n\"I will speak myself,\" said the Sunshine. \"Silence!\" and the Sunshine\nsaid it with such glory and majesty that the weary Wind fell prostrate,\nand the Rain, beating against him, shook him, as she said:\n\n\"We won't stand it! She is always breaking through--is Madame Sunshine.\nLet us not listen to her; what she has to say is not worth hearing.\"\nAnd still the Sunshine began to talk, and this is what she said:\n\n\"A beautiful swan flew over the rolling, tossing waves of the ocean.\nEvery one of its feathers shone like gold; and one feather drifted down\nto the great merchant vessel that, with sails all set, was sailing away.\n\n\"The feather fell upon the light curly hair of a young man, whose\nbusiness it was to care for the goods in the ship--the supercargo he was\ncalled. The feather of the bird of fortune touched his forehead, became\na pen in his hand, and brought him such luck that he soon became a\nwealthy merchant, rich enough to have bought for himself spurs of\ngold--rich enough to change a golden plate into a nobleman's shield, on\nwhich,\" said the Sunshine, \"I shone.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"The swan flew farther, away and away, over the sunny green meadow,\nwhere the little shepherd boy, only seven years old, had lain down in\nthe shade of the old tree, the only one there was in sight.\n\n\"In its flight the swan kissed one of the leaves of the tree, and\nfalling into the boy's hand, it was changed to three leaves--to ten--to\na whole book; yes, and in the book he read about all the wonders of\nnature, about his native language, about faith and knowledge. At night\nhe laid the book under his pillow, that he might not forget what he had\nbeen reading.\n\n\"The wonderful book led him also to the schoolroom, and thence\neverywhere, in search of knowledge. I have read his name among the names\nof learned men,\" said the Sunshine.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"The swan flew into the quiet, lonely forest, and rested awhile on the\ndeep, dark lake where the lilies grow, where the wild apples are to be\nfound on the shore, where the cuckoo and the wild pigeon have their\nhomes.\n\n\"In the wood was a poor woman gathering firewood--branches and dry\nsticks that had fallen. She bore them on her back in a bundle, and in\nher arms she held her little child. She too saw the golden swan, the\nbird of fortune, as it rose from among the reeds on the shore. What was\nit that glittered so? A golden egg that was still quite warm. She laid\nit in her bosom, and the warmth remained. Surely there was life in the\negg! She heard the gentle pecking inside the shell, but she thought it\nwas her own heart that was beating.\n\n\"At home in her poor cottage she took out the egg. 'Tick! tick!' it\nsaid, as if it had been a gold watch, but it was not; it was an egg--a\nreal, living egg.\n\n\"The egg cracked and opened, and a dear little baby swan, all feathered\nas with the purest gold, pushed out its tiny head. Around its neck were\nfour rings, and as this woman had four boys--three at home, and this\nlittle one that was with her in the lonely wood--she understood at once\nthat there was one for each boy. Just as she had taken them the little\ngold bird took flight.\n\n\"She kissed each ring, then made each of the children kiss one of the\nrings, laid it next the child's heart awhile, then put it on his finger.\nI saw it all,\" said the Sunshine, \"and I saw what happened afterward.\n\n[Illustration: The egg cracked and opened....]\n\n\"One of the boys, while playing by a ditch, took a lump of clay in his\nhand, then turned and twisted it till it took shape and was like\nJason, who went in search of the Golden Fleece and found it.\n\n\"The second boy ran out upon the meadow, where stood the\nflowers--flowers of all imaginable colors. He gathered a handful and\nsqueezed them so tightly that the juice flew into his eyes, and some of\nit wet the ring upon his hand. It cribbled and crawled in his brain and\nin his hands, and after many a day and many a year, people in the great\ncity talked of the famous painter that he was.\n\n\"The third child held the ring in his teeth, and so tightly that it gave\nforth sound--the echo of a song in the depth of his heart. Then thoughts\nand feelings rose in beautiful sounds,--rose like singing\nswans,--plunged, too, like swans, into the deep, deep sea. He became a\ngreat musical composer, a master, of whom every country has the right to\nsay, 'He was mine, for he was the world's.'\n\n\"And the fourth little one--yes, he was the 'ugly duck' of the family.\nThey said he had the pip and must eat pepper and butter like a sick\nchicken, and that was what was given him; but of me he got a warm, sunny\nkiss,\" said the Sunshine. \"He had ten kisses for one. He was a poet and\nwas first kissed, then buffeted all his life through.\n\n\"But he held what no one could take from him--the ring of fortune from\nDame Fortune's golden swan. His thoughts took wing and flew up and away\nlike singing butterflies--emblems of an immortal life.\"\n\n\"That was a dreadfully long story,\" said the Wind.\n\n\"And so stupid and tiresome,\" said the Rain. \"Blow upon me, please, that\nI may revive a little.\"\n\nAnd while the Wind blew, the Sunshine said: \"The swan of fortune flew\nover the lovely bay where the fishermen had set their nets. The very\npoorest one among them was wishing to marry--and marry he did.\n\n\"To him the swan brought a piece of amber. Amber draws things toward\nitself, and this piece drew hearts to the house where the fisherman\nlived with his bride. Amber is the most wonderful of incense, and there\ncame a soft perfume, as from a holy place, a sweet breath from\nbeautiful nature, that God has made. And the fisherman and his wife were\nhappy and grateful in their peaceful home, content even in their\npoverty. And so their life became a real Sunshine Story.\"\n\n\"I think we had better stop now,\" said the Wind. \"I am dreadfully bored.\nThe Sunshine has talked long enough.\"\n\n\"I think so, too,\" said the Rain.\n\nAnd what do we others who have heard the story say?\n\nWe say, \"Now the story's done.\"\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE DARNING-NEEDLE\n\n\nTHERE was once a Darning-needle who thought herself so fine that she\ncame at last to believe that she was fit for embroidery.\n\n\"Mind now that you hold me fast,\" she said to the Fingers that took her\nup. \"Pray don't lose me. If I should fall on the ground I should\ncertainly be lost, I am so fine.\"\n\n\"That's more than you can tell,\" said the Fingers, as they grasped her\ntightly by the waist.\n\n\"I come with a train, you see,\" said the Darning-needle, as she drew her\nlong thread after her; but there was no knot in the thread.\n\nThe Fingers pressed the point of the Needle upon an old pair of\nslippers, in which the upper leather had burst and must be sewed\ntogether. The slippers belonged to the cook.\n\n\"This is very coarse work!\" said the Darning-needle. \"I shall never get\nthrough alive. There, I'm breaking! I'm breaking!\" and break she did.\n\"Did I not say so?\" said the Darning-needle. \"I'm too delicate for such\nwork as that.\"\n\n\"Now it's quite useless for sewing,\" said the Fingers; but they still\nheld her all the same, for the cook presently dropped some melted\nsealing wax upon the needle and then pinned her neckerchief in front\nwith it.\n\n\"See, now I'm a breastpin,\" said the Darning-needle. \"I well knew that I\nshould come to honor; when one is something, one always comes to\nsomething. Merit is sure to rise.\" And at this she laughed, only\ninwardly, of course, for one can never see when a Darning-needle laughs.\nThere she sat now, quite at her ease, and as proud as if she sat in a\nstate carriage and gazed upon all about her.\n\n\"May I take the liberty to ask if you are made of gold?\" she asked of\nthe pin, her neighbor. \"You have a splendid appearance and quite a\nremarkable head, though it is so little. You should do what you can to\ngrow--of course it is not every one that can have sealing wax dropped\nupon her.\"\n\nAnd the Darning-needle drew herself up so proudly that she fell out of\nthe neckerchief into the sink, which the cook was at that moment\nrinsing.\n\n\"Now I'm going to travel,\" said the Darning-needle, \"if only I don't get\nlost.\"\n\nBut that was just what happened to her.\n\n\"I'm too delicate for this world,\" she said, as she found herself in the\ngutter. \"But I know who I am, and there is always some little pleasure\nin that!\" It was thus that the Darning-needle kept up her proud bearing\nand lost none of her good humor. And now all sorts of things swam over\nher--chips and straws and scraps of old newspapers.\n\n\"Only see how they sail along,\" said the Darning-needle to herself.\n\"They little know what is under them, though it is I, and I sit firmly\nhere. See! there goes a chip! It thinks of nothing in the world but\nitself--of nothing in the world but a chip! There floats a straw; see\nhow it turns and twirls about. Do think of something besides yourself or\nyou may easily run against a stone. There swims a bit of a newspaper.\nWhat's written upon it is forgotten long ago, yet how it spreads itself\nout and gives itself airs! I sit patiently and quietly here! I know what\nI am, and I shall remain the same--always.\"\n\nOne day there lay something beside her that glittered splendidly. She\nthought it must be a diamond, but it was really only a bit of broken\nglass from a bottle. As it shone so brightly the Darning-needle spoke to\nit, introducing herself as a breastpin.\n\n\"You are a diamond, I suppose,\" she said.\n\n\"Why, yes, something of the sort.\"\n\nSo each believed the other to be some rare and costly trinket; and they\nbegan to converse together upon the world, saying how very conceited it\nwas.\n\n\"Yes,\" said the Darning-needle, \"I have lived in a young lady's box; and\nthe young lady happened to be a cook. She had five fingers upon each of\nher hands, and anything more conceited and arrogant than those five\nfingers, I never saw. And yet they were only there that they might take\nme out of the box or put me back again.\"\n\n\"Were they of high descent?\" asked the Bit of Bottle. \"Did they shine?\"\n\n\"No, indeed,\" replied the Darning-needle; \"but they were none the less\nhaughty. There were five brothers of them--all of the Finger family. And\nthey held themselves so proudly side by side, though they were of quite\ndifferent heights. The outermost, Thumbling he was called, was short and\nthick set; he generally stood out of the rank, a little in front of the\nothers; he had only one joint in his back, and could only bow once; but\nhe used to say that if he were cut off from a man, that man would be cut\noff from military service. Foreman, the second, put himself forward on\nall occasions, meddled with sweet and sour, pointed to sun and moon, and\nwhen the fingers wrote, it was he who pressed the pen. Middleman, the\nthird of the brothers, could look over the others' heads, and gave\nhimself airs for that. Ringman, the fourth, went about with a gold belt\nabout his waist; and little Playman, whom they called Peter Spielman,\ndid nothing at all and was proud of that, I suppose. There was nothing\nto be heard but boasting, and that is why I took myself away.\"\n\n\"And now we sit here together and shine,\" said the Bit of Bottle.\n\nAt that very moment some water came rushing along the gutter, so that it\noverflowed and carried the glass diamond along with it.\n\n\"So he is off,\" said the Darning-needle, \"and I still remain. I am left\nhere because I am too slender and genteel. But that's my pride, and\npride is honorable.\" And proudly she sat, thinking many thoughts.\n\n\"I could almost believe I had been born of a sunbeam, I'm so fine. It\nseems as if the sunbeams were always trying to seek me under the water.\nAlas, I'm so delicate that even my own mother cannot find me. If I had\nmy old eye still, which broke off, I think I should cry--but no, I would\nnot; it's not genteel to weep.\"\n\nOne day a couple of street boys were paddling about in the gutter,\nhunting for old nails, pennies, and such like. It was dirty work, but\nthey seemed to find great pleasure in it.\n\n\"Hullo!\" cried one of them, as he pricked himself with the\nDarning-needle; \"here's a fellow for you!\"\n\n\"I'm not a fellow! I'm a young lady!\" said the Darning-needle, but no\none heard it.\n\nThe sealing wax had worn off, and she had become quite black; \"but black\nmakes one look slender, and is always becoming.\" She thought herself\nfiner even than before.\n\n\"There goes an eggshell sailing along,\" said the boys; and they stuck\nthe Darning-needle into the shell.\n\n\"A lady in black, and within white walls!\" said the Darning-needle;\n\"that is very striking. Now every one can see me. I hope I shall not be\nseasick, for then I shall break.\"\n\nBut the fear was needless; she was not seasick, neither did she break.\n\n\"Nothing is so good to prevent seasickness as to have a steel stomach\nand to bear in mind that one is something a little more than an ordinary\nperson. My seasickness is all over now. The more genteel and honorable\none is, the more one can endure.\"\n\nCrash went the eggshell, as a wagon rolled over both of them. It was a\nwonder that she did not break.\n\n\"Mercy, what a crushing weight!\" said the Darning-needle. \"I'm growing\nseasick, after all. I'm going to break!\"\n\nBut she was not sick, and she did not break, though the wagon wheels\nrolled over her. She lay at full length in the road, and there let her\nlie.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE LITTLE MATCH GIRL\n\n\nIT was dreadfully cold; it was snowing fast, and was almost dark, as\nevening came on--the last evening of the year. In the cold and the\ndarkness, there went along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded and\nwith naked feet. When she left home she had slippers on, it is true; but\nthey were much too large for her feet--slippers that her mother had used\ntill then, and the poor little girl lost them in running across the\nstreet when two carriages were passing terribly fast. When she looked\nfor them, one was not to be found, and a boy seized the other and ran\naway with it, saying he would use it for a cradle some day, when he had\nchildren of his own.\n\nSo on the little girl went with her bare feet, that were red and blue\nwith cold. In an old apron that she wore were bundles of matches, and\nshe carried a bundle also in her hand. No one had bought so much as a\nbunch all the long day, and no one had given her even a penny.\n\nPoor little girl! Shivering with cold and hunger she crept along, a\nperfect picture of misery.\n\nThe snowflakes fell on her long flaxen hair, which hung in pretty curls\nabout her throat; but she thought not of her beauty nor of the cold.\nLights gleamed in every window, and there came to her the savory smell\nof roast goose, for it was New Year's Eve. And it was this of which she\nthought.\n\nIn a corner formed by two houses, one of which projected beyond the\nother, she sat cowering down. She had drawn under her her little feet,\nbut still she grew colder and colder; yet she dared not go home, for she\nhad sold no matches and could not bring a penny of money. Her father\nwould certainly beat her; and, besides, it was cold enough at home, for\nthey had only the house-roof above them, and though the largest holes\nhad been stopped with straw and rags, there were left many through which\nthe cold wind could whistle.\n\n[Illustration: Where the light fell upon the wall it became\ntransparent.]\n\nAnd now her little hands were nearly frozen with cold. Alas! a single\nmatch might do her good if she might only draw it from the bundle, rub\nit against the wall, and warm her fingers by it. So at last she drew one\nout. Whisht! How it blazed and burned! It gave out a warm, bright flame\nlike a little candle, as she held her hands over it. A wonderful little\nlight it was. It really seemed to the little girl as if she sat before a\ngreat iron stove with polished brass feet and brass shovel and tongs. So\nblessedly it burned that the little maiden stretched out her feet to\nwarm them also. How comfortable she was! But lo! the flame went out, the\nstove vanished, and nothing remained but the little burned match in her\nhand.\n\nShe rubbed another match against the wall. It burned brightly, and where\nthe light fell upon the wall it became transparent like a veil, so that\nshe could see through it into the room. A snow-white cloth was spread\nupon the table, on which was a beautiful china dinner-service, while a\nroast goose, stuffed with apples and prunes, steamed famously and sent\nforth a most savory smell. And what was more delightful still, and\nwonderful, the goose jumped from the dish, with knife and fork still in\nits breast, and waddled along the floor straight to the little girl.\n\nBut the match went out then, and nothing was left to her but the thick,\ndamp wall.\n\nShe lighted another match. And now she was under a most beautiful\nChristmas tree, larger and far more prettily trimmed than the one she\nhad seen through the glass doors at the rich merchant's. Hundreds of wax\ntapers were burning on the green branches, and gay figures, such as she\nhad seen in shop windows, looked down upon her. The child stretched out\nher hands to them; then the match went out.\n\nStill the lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher. She saw\nthem now as stars in heaven, and one of them fell, forming a long trail\nof fire.\n\n\"Now some one is dying,\" murmured the child softly; for her grandmother,\nthe only person who had loved her, and who was now dead, had told her\nthat whenever a star falls a soul mounts up to God.\n\nShe struck yet another match against the wall, and again it was light;\nand in the brightness there appeared before her the dear old\ngrandmother, bright and radiant, yet sweet and mild, and happy as she\nhad never looked on earth.\n\n\"Oh, grandmother,\" cried the child, \"take me with you. I know you will\ngo away when the match burns out. You, too, will vanish, like the warm\nstove, the splendid New Year's feast, the beautiful Christmas tree.\" And\nlest her grandmother should disappear, she rubbed the whole bundle of\nmatches against the wall.\n\nAnd the matches burned with such a brilliant light that it became\nbrighter than noonday. Her grandmother had never looked so grand and\nbeautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and both flew together,\njoyously and gloriously, mounting higher and higher, far above the\nearth; and for them there was neither hunger, nor cold, nor care--they\nwere with God.\n\nBut in the corner, at the dawn of day, sat the poor girl, leaning\nagainst the wall, with red cheeks and smiling mouth--frozen to death on\nthe last evening of the old year. Stiff and cold she sat, with the\nmatches, one bundle of which was burned.\n\n\"She wanted to warm herself, poor little thing,\" people said. No one\nimagined what sweet visions she had had, or how gloriously she had gone\nwith her grandmother to enter upon the joys of a new year.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE LOVING PAIR\n\n\nA WHIPPING Top and a Ball lay close together in a drawer among other\nplaythings. One day the Top said to the Ball, \"Since we are living so\nmuch together, why should we not be lovers?\"\n\nBut the Ball, being made of morocco leather, thought herself a very\nhigh-bred lady, and would hear nothing of such a proposal. On the next\nday the little boy to whom the playthings belonged came to the drawer;\nhe painted the Top red and yellow, and drove a bright brass nail right\nthrough the head of it; it looked very smart indeed as it spun around\nafter that.\n\n\"Look at me,\" said he to the Ball. \"What do you say to me now; why\nshould we not make a match of it, and become man and wife? We suit each\nother so well!--you can jump and I can dance. There would not be a\nhappier pair in the whole world!\"\n\n\"Do you think so?\" said the Ball. \"Perhaps you do not know that my\nfather and mother were morocco slippers, and that I have a Spanish cork\nin my body!\"\n\n\"Yes, but then I am made of mahogany,\" said the Top; \"the Mayor himself\nturned me. He has a turning lathe of his own, and he took great pleasure\nin making me.\"\n\n\"Can I trust you in this?\" asked the Ball.\n\n\"May I never be whipped again, if what I tell you is not true,\" returned\nthe Top.\n\n\"You plead your cause well,\" said the Ball; \"but I am not free to listen\nto your proposal. I am as good as engaged to a swallow. As often as I\nfly up into the air, he puts his head out of his nest, and says, 'Will\nyou?' In my heart I have said Yes to him, and that is almost the same as\nan engagement; but I'll promise never to forget you.\"\n\n\"A deal of good that will do me,\" said the Top, and they left off\nspeaking to each other.\n\nNext day the Ball was taken out. The Top saw it fly like a bird into the\nair--so high that it passed quite out of sight. It came back again; but\neach time that it touched the earth, it sprang higher than before. This\nmust have been either from its longing to mount higher, like the\nswallow, or because it had the Spanish cork in its body. On the ninth\ntime the little Ball did not return. The boy sought and sought, but all\nin vain, for it was gone.\n\n\"I know very well where she is,\" sighed the Top. \"She is in the\nswallow's nest, celebrating her wedding.\"\n\nThe more the Top thought of this the more lovely the Ball became to him;\nthat she could not be his bride seemed to make his love for her the\ngreater. She had preferred another rather than himself, but he could not\nforget her. He twirled round and round, spinning and humming, but always\nthinking of the Ball, who grew more and more beautiful the more he\nthought of her. And thus several years passed,--it came to be an old\nlove,--and now the Top was no longer young!\n\nOne day he was gilded all over; never in his life had he been half so\nhandsome. He was now a golden top, and bravely he spun, humming all the\ntime. But once he sprang too high--and was gone!\n\nThey looked everywhere for him,--even in the cellar,--but he was nowhere\nto be found. Where was he?\n\nHe had jumped into the dustbin, and lay among cabbage stalks, sweepings,\ndust, and all sorts of rubbish that had fallen from the gutter in the\nroof.\n\n\"Alas! my gay gilding will soon be spoiled here. What sort of trumpery\ncan I have got among?\" And then he peeped at a long cabbage stalk which\nlay much too near him, and at something strange and round, which\nappeared like an apple, but was not. It was an old Ball that must have\nlain for years in the gutter, and been soaked through and through with\nwater.\n\n\"Thank goodness! at last I see an equal; one of my own sort, with whom I\ncan talk,\" said the Ball, looking earnestly at the gilded Top. \"I am\nmyself made of real morocco, sewed together by a young lady's hands, and\nwithin my body is a Spanish cork; though no one would think it now. I\nwas very near marrying the swallow, when by a sad chance I fell into the\ngutter on the roof. I have lain there five years, and I am now wet\nthrough and through. You may think what a wearisome situation it has\nbeen for a young lady like me.\"\n\nThe Top made no reply. The more he thought of his old love, and the more\nhe heard, the more sure he became that this was indeed she.\n\nThen came the housemaid to empty the dustbin. \"Hullo!\" she cried; \"why,\nhere's the gilt Top.\" And so the Top was brought again to the playroom,\nto be used and honored as before, while nothing was again heard of the\nBall.\n\nAnd the Top never spoke again of his old love--the feeling must have\npassed away. And it is not strange, when the object of it has lain five\nyears in a gutter, and been drenched through and through, and when one\nmeets her again in a dustbin.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE LEAPING MATCH\n\n\nTHE Flea, the Grasshopper, and the Frog once wanted to see which of them\ncould jump the highest. They made a festival, and invited the whole\nworld and every one else besides who liked to come and see the grand\nsight. Three famous jumpers they were, as all should say, when they met\ntogether in the room.\n\n\"I will give my daughter to him who shall jump highest,\" said the King;\n\"it would be too bad for you to have the jumping, and for us to offer no\nprize.\"\n\nThe Flea was the first to come forward. He had most exquisite manners,\nand bowed to the company on every side; for he was of noble blood, and,\nbesides, was accustomed to the society of man, and that, of course, had\nbeen an advantage to him.\n\nNext came the Grasshopper. He was not quite so elegantly formed as the\nFlea, but he knew perfectly well how to conduct himself, and he wore the\ngreen uniform which belonged to him by right of birth. He said,\nmoreover, that he came of a very ancient Egyptian family, and that in\nthe house where he then lived he was much thought of.\n\nThe fact was that he had been just brought out of the fields and put in\na card-house three stories high, and built on purpose for him, with the\ncolored sides inwards, and doors and windows cut out of the Queen of\nHearts. \"And I sing so well,\" said he, \"that sixteen parlor-bred\ncrickets, who have chirped from infancy and yet got no one to build them\ncard-houses to live in, have fretted themselves thinner even than\nbefore, from sheer vexation on hearing me.\"\n\nIt was thus that the Flea and the Grasshopper made the most of\nthemselves, each thinking himself quite an equal match for the princess.\n\n[Illustration: He made a sideways jump into the lap of the princess.]\n\nThe Leapfrog said not a word; but people said that perhaps he thought\nthe more; and the housedog who snuffed at him with his nose allowed that\nhe was of good family. The old councilor, who had had three orders\ngiven him in vain for keeping quiet, asserted that the Leapfrog was a\nprophet, for that one could see on his back whether the coming winter\nwas to be severe or mild, which is more than one can see on the back of\nthe man who writes the almanac.\n\n\"I say nothing for the present,\" exclaimed the King; \"yet I have my own\nopinion, for I observe everything.\"\n\nAnd now the match began. The Flea jumped so high that no one could see\nwhat had become of him; and so they insisted that he had not jumped at\nall--which was disgraceful after all the fuss he had made.\n\nThe Grasshopper jumped only half as high; but he leaped into the King's\nface, who was disgusted by his rudeness.\n\nThe Leapfrog stood for a long time, as if lost in thought; people began\nto think he would not jump at all.\n\n\"I'm afraid he is ill!\" said the dog and he went to snuff at him again;\nwhen lo! he suddenly made a sideways jump into the lap of the princess,\nwho sat close by on a little golden stool.\n\n\"There is nothing higher than my daughter,\" said the King; \"therefore to\nbound into her lap is the highest jump that can be made. Only one of\ngood understanding would ever have thought of that. Thus the Frog has\nshown that he has sense. He has brains in his head, that he has.\"\n\nAnd so he won the princess.\n\n\"I jumped the highest, for all that,\" said the Flea; \"but it's all the\nsame to me. The princess may have the stiff-legged, slimy creature, if\nshe likes. In this world merit seldom meets its reward. Dullness and\nheaviness win the day. I am too light and airy for a stupid world.\"\n\nAnd so the Flea went into foreign service.\n\nThe Grasshopper sat without on a green bank and reflected on the world\nand its ways; and he too said, \"Yes, dullness and heaviness win the day;\na fine exterior is what people care for nowadays.\" And then he began to\nsing in his own peculiar way--and it is from his song that we have taken\nthis little piece of history, which may very possibly be all untrue,\nalthough it does stand printed here in black and white.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE HAPPY FAMILY\n\n\nTHE largest green leaf in this country is certainly the burdock. Put one\nin front of your waist, and it is just like an apron; or lay it upon\nyour head, and it is almost as good as an umbrella, it is so broad.\n\nBurdock never grows singly; where you find one plant of the kind you may\nbe sure that others grow in its immediate neighborhood. How magnificent\nthey look!\n\nAnd all this magnificence is food for snails--the great white snails,\nwhich grand people in olden times used to have dished up as fricassees,\nand of which, when they had eaten, they would say, \"H'm, how nice!\" for\nthey really fancied them delicious. These snails lived on burdock\nleaves, and that was why burdock was planted.\n\nNow there was an old estate where snails were no longer considered a\ndelicacy. The snails had therefore died out, but the burdock still\nflourished. In all the alleys and in all the beds it had grown and\ngrown, so that it could no longer be checked; the place had become a\nperfect forest of burdock.\n\nHere and there stood an apple or plum tree to serve as a kind of token\nthat there had been once a garden, but everything, from one end of the\ngarden to the other, was burdock, and beneath the shade of the burdock\nlived the last two of the ancient snails.\n\nThey did not know themselves how old they were, but they well remembered\nthe time when there were a great many of them, that they had descended\nfrom a family that came from foreign lands, and that this forest in\nwhich they lived had been planted for them and theirs. They had never\nbeen beyond the limits of the garden, but they knew that there was\nsomething outside their forest, called the castle, and that there one\nwas boiled, and became black, and was then laid upon a silver\ndish--though what happened afterward they had never heard, nor could\nthey exactly fancy how it felt to be cooked and laid on a silver dish.\nIt was, no doubt, a fine thing, and exceedingly genteel.\n\nNeither the cockchafer, nor the toad, nor the earthworm, all of whom\nthey questioned on the matter, could give them the least information,\nfor none of them had ever been cooked and served upon silver dishes.\n\nThe old white snails were the grandest race in the world; of this they\nwere well aware. The forest had grown for their sake, and the castle or\nmanor house too had been built expressly that in it they might be cooked\nand served.\n\nLeading now a very quiet and happy life and having no children, they had\nadopted a little common snail, and had brought it up as their own child.\nBut the little thing would not grow, for he was only a common snail,\nthough his foster mother pretended to see a great improvement in him.\nShe begged the father, since he could not perceive it, to feel the\nlittle snail's shell, and to her great joy and his own, he found that\nhis wife was right.\n\nOne day it rained very hard. \"Listen!\" said the Father Snail; \"hear what\na drumming there is on the burdock leaves--rum-dum-dum, rum-dum-dum!\"\n\n\"There are drops, too,\" said the Mother Snail; \"they come trickling down\nthe stalks. We shall presently find it very wet here. I'm glad we have\nsuch good houses, and that the youngster has his also. There has really\nbeen more done for us than for any other creatures. Every one must see\nthat we are superior beings. We have houses from our very birth, and the\nburdock forest is planted on our account. I should like to know just how\nfar it reaches, and what there is beyond.\"\n\n\"There is nothing better than what we have here,\" said the Father Snail.\n\"I wish for nothing beyond.\"\n\n\"And yet,\" said the mother, \"I should like to be taken to the castle,\nand boiled, and laid on a silver dish; that has been the destiny of all\nour ancestors, and we may be sure it is something quite out of the\ncommon way.\"\n\n\"The castle has perhaps fallen to ruin,\" said the Father Snail, \"or it\nmay be overgrown with burdock, so that its inmates are unable to come\nout. There is no hurry about the matter. You are always in such a\ndesperate hurry, and the youngster there begins to take after you. He's\nbeen creeping up that stem yonder these three days. It makes me quite\ndizzy to look at him.\"\n\n\"But don't scold him,\" said the mother. \"He creeps carefully. We old\npeople have nothing else to live for, and he will be the joy of our old\nage. Have you thought how we can manage to find a wife for him? Do you\nnot think that farther into the forest there may be others of our own\nspecies?\"\n\n\"I dare say there may be black snails,\" said the old father, \"black\nsnails, without a house at all; and they are vulgar, though they think\nso much of themselves. But we can employ the black ants, who run about\nso much--hurrying to and fro as if they had all the business of the\nworld on their hands. They will certainly be able to find a wife for our\nyoung gentleman.\"\n\n\"I know the fairest of the fair,\" said one of the ants; \"but I'm afraid\nit would not do, for she's a queen.\"\n\n\"She's none the worse for that,\" said both the old snails. \"Has she a\nhouse?\"\n\n\"She has a palace,\" answered the ants; \"the most splendid ant castle,\nwith seven hundred galleries.\"\n\n\"Thank you!\" said the Mother Snail. \"Our boy shall not go to live in an\nant hill. If you know of nothing better, we will employ the white gnats,\nwho fly both in rain and sunshine and know all the ins and outs of the\nwhole burdock forest.\"\n\n\"We have found a wife for him,\" said the gnats. \"A hundred paces from\nhere there sits, on a gooseberry bush, a little snail with a house. She\nis all alone and is old enough to marry. It is only a hundred human\nsteps from here.\"\n\n\"Then let her come to him,\" said the old couple. \"He has a whole forest\nof burdock, while she has only a bush.\"\n\nSo they went and brought the little maiden snail. It took eight days to\nperform the journey, but that only showed her high breeding, and that\nshe was of good family.\n\nAnd then the wedding took place. Six glow-worms gave all the light they\ncould, but in all other respects it was a very quiet affair. The old\npeople could not bear the fatigue of frolic or festivity. The Mother\nSnail made a very touching little speech. The father was too much\novercome to trust himself to say anything.\n\nThey gave the young couple the entire burdock forest, saying what they\nhad always said, namely, that it was the finest inheritance in the\nworld, and that if they led an upright and honorable life, and if their\nfamily should increase, without doubt both themselves and their children\nwould one day be taken to the manor castle and be boiled black and\nserved as a fricassee in a silver dish.\n\nAnd after this the old couple crept into their houses and never came out\nagain, but fell asleep. The young pair now ruled in the forest and had a\nnumerous family. But when, as time went on, none of them were ever\ncooked or served on a silver dish, they concluded that the castle had\nfallen to ruin and that the world of human beings had died out; and as\nno one contradicted them, they must have been right.\n\nAnd the rain continued to fall upon the burdock leaves solely to\nentertain them with its drumming, and the sun shone to light the forest\nfor their especial benefit, and very happy they were--they and the whole\nsnail family--inexpressibly happy!\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE GREENIES\n\n\nA ROSE TREE stood in the window. But a little while ago it had been\ngreen and fresh, and now it looked sickly--it was in poor health, no\ndoubt. A whole regiment was quartered on it and was eating it up; yet,\nnotwithstanding this seeming greediness, the regiment was a very decent\nand respectable one. It wore bright-green uniforms. I spoke to one of\nthe \"Greenies.\" He was but three days old, and yet he was already a\ngrandfather. What do you think he said? It is all true--he spoke of\nhimself and of the rest of the regiment. Listen!\n\n\"We are the most wonderful creatures in the world. At a very early age\nwe are engaged, and immediately we have the wedding. When the cold\nweather comes we lay our eggs, but the little ones lie sunny and warm.\nThe wisest of the creatures, the ant,--we have the greatest respect for\nhim!--understands us well. He appreciates us, you may be sure. He does\nnot eat us up at once; he takes our eggs, lays them in the family ant\nhill on the ground floor--lays them, labeled and numbered, side by side,\nlayer on layer, so that each day a new one may creep out of the egg.\nThen he puts us in a stable, pinches our hind legs, and milks us till we\ndie. He has given us the prettiest of names--'little milch cow.'\n\n\"All creatures who, like the ant, are gifted with common sense call us\nby this pretty name. It is only human beings who do not. They give us\nanother name, one that we feel to be a great affront--great enough to\nembitter our whole life. Could you not write a protest against it for\nus? Could you not rouse these human beings to a sense of the wrong they\ndo us? They look at us so stupidly or, at times, with such envious eyes,\njust because we eat a rose leaf, while they themselves eat every created\nthing--whatever grows and is green. And oh, they give us the most\nhumiliating of names! I will not even mention it. Ugh! I feel it to my\nvery stomach. I cannot even pronounce it--at least not when I have my\nuniform on, and that I always wear.\n\n\"I was born on a rose leaf. I and all the regiment live on the rose\ntree. We live off it, in fact. But then it lives again in us, who belong\nto the higher order of created beings.\n\n\"The human beings do not like us. They pursue and murder us with\nsoapsuds. Oh, it is a horrid drink! I seem to smell it even now. You\ncannot think how dreadful it is to be washed when one was not made to be\nwashed. Men! you who look at us with your severe, soapsud eyes, think a\nmoment what our place in nature is: we are born upon the roses, we die\nin roses--our whole life is a rose poem. Do not, I beg you, give us a\nname which you yourselves think so despicable--the name I cannot bear to\npronounce. If you wish to speak of us, call us 'the ants' milch\ncows--the rose-tree regiment--the little green things.'\"\n\n\"And I, the man, stood looking at the tree and at the little Greenies\n(whose name I shall not mention, for I should not like to wound the\nfeelings of the citizens of the rose tree), a large family with eggs and\nyoung ones; and I looked at the soapsuds I was going to wash them in,\nfor I too had come with soap and water and murderous intentions. But now\nI will use it for soap bubbles. Look, how beautiful! Perhaps there lies\nin each a fairy tale, and the bubble grows large and radiant and looks\nas if there were a pearl lying inside it.\n\nThe bubble swayed and swung. It flew to the door and then burst, but the\ndoor opened wide, and there stood Dame Fairytale herself! And now she\nwill tell you better than I can about (I will not say the name) the\nlittle green things of the rosebush.\n\n\"Plant lice!\" said Dame Fairytale. One must call things by their right\nnames. And if one may not do so always, one must at least have the\nprivilege of doing so in a fairy tale.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nOLE-LUK-OIE THE DREAM GOD\n\n\nTHERE is nobody in the whole world who knows so many stories as\nOle-Luk-Oie, or who can relate them so nicely.\n\nIn the evening while the children are seated at the tea table or in\ntheir little chairs, very softly he comes up the stairs, for he walks in\nhis socks. He opens the doors without the slightest noise and throws a\nsmall quantity of very fine dust in the little ones' eyes (just enough\nto prevent them from keeping them open), and so they do not see him.\nThen he creeps behind them and blows softly upon their necks till their\nheads begin to droop.\n\nBut Ole-Luk-Oie does not wish to hurt them. He is very fond of children\nand only wants them to be quiet that he may tell them pretty stories,\nand he knows they never are quiet until they are in bed and asleep.\nOle-Luk-Oie seats himself upon the bed as soon as they are asleep. He is\nnicely dressed; his coat is made of silken stuff, it is impossible to\nsay of what color, for it changes from green to red and from red to blue\nas he turns from side to side. Under each arm he carries an umbrella.\nOne of them, with pictures on the inside, he spreads over good children,\nand then they dream the most charming stories. But the other umbrella\nhas no pictures, and this he holds over the naughty children, so that\nthey sleep heavily and wake in the morning without having dreamed at\nall.\n\nNow we shall hear how Ole-Luk-Oie came every night during a whole week\nto a little boy named Hjalmar, and what it was that he told him. There\nwere seven stories, as there are seven days in the week.\n\n\nMONDAY\n\n\"Now pay attention,\" said Ole-Luk-Oie in the evening, when Hjalmar was\nin bed, \"and I will decorate the room.\"\n\nImmediately all the flowers in the flowerpots became large trees with\nlong branches reaching to the ceiling and stretching along the walls, so\nthat the whole room was like a greenhouse. All the branches were loaded\nwith flowers, each flower as beautiful and as fragrant as a rose, and\nhad any one tasted them he would have found them sweeter even than jam.\nThe fruit glittered like gold, and there were cakes so full of plums\nthat they were nearly bursting. It was incomparably beautiful.\n\nAt the same time sounded dismal moans from the table drawer in which lay\nHjalmar's schoolbooks.\n\n\"What can that be now?\" said Ole-Luk-Oie, going to the table and pulling\nout the drawer.\n\nIt was a slate, in such distress because of a wrong figure in a sum that\nit had almost broken itself to pieces. The pencil pulled and tugged at\nits string as if it were a little dog that wanted to help but could not.\n\nAnd then came a moan from Hjalmar's copy book. Oh, it was quite terrible\nto hear! On each leaf stood a row of capital letters, every one having\na small letter by its side. This formed a copy. Under these were other\nletters, which Hjalmar had written; they fancied they looked like the\ncopy, but they were mistaken, for they were leaning on one side as if\nthey intended to fall over the pencil lines.\n\n\"See, this is the way you should hold yourselves,\" said the copy. \"Look\nhere, you should slope thus, with a graceful curve.\"\n\n\"Oh, we are very willing to do so,\" said Hjalmar's letters, \"but we\ncannot, we are so wretchedly made.\"\n\n\"You must be scratched out, then,\" said Ole-Luk-Oie.\n\n\"Oh, no!\" they cried, and then they stood up so gracefully that it was\nquite a pleasure to look at them.\n\n\"Now we must give up our stories, and exercise these letters,\" said\nOle-Luk-Oie. \"One, two--one, two--\" So he drilled them till they stood\nup gracefully and looked as beautiful as a copy could look. But after\nOle-Luk-Oie was gone, and Hjalmar looked at them in the morning, they\nwere as wretched and awkward as ever.\n\n\nTUESDAY\n\nAs soon as Hjalmar was in bed Ole-Luk-Oie touched with his little magic\nwand all the furniture in the room, which immediately began to chatter.\nAnd each article talked only of itself.\n\nOver the chest of drawers hung a large picture in a gilt frame,\nrepresenting a landscape, with fine old trees, flowers in the grass, and\na broad stream which flowed through the wood past several castles far\nout into the wild ocean.\n\nOle-Luk-Oie touched the picture with his magic wand, and immediately the\nbirds began to sing, the branches of the trees rustled, and the clouds\nmoved across the sky, casting their shadows on the landscape beneath\nthem.\n\nThen Ole-Luk-Oie lifted little Hjalmar up to the frame and placed his\nfeet in the picture, on the high grass, and there he stood with the sun\nshining down upon him through the branches of the trees. He ran to the\nwater and seated himself in a little boat which lay there, and which was\npainted red and white.\n\nThe sails glittered like silver, and six swans, each with a golden\ncirclet round its neck and a bright, blue star on its forehead, drew the\nboat past the green wood, where the trees talked of robbers and witches,\nand the flowers of beautiful little elves and fairies whose histories\nthe butterflies had related to them.\n\nBrilliant fish with scales like silver and gold swam after the boat,\nsometimes making a spring and splashing the water round them; while\nbirds, red and blue, small and great, flew after him in two long lines.\nThe gnats danced round them, and the cockchafers cried \"Buzz, buzz.\"\nThey all wanted to follow Hjalmar, and all had some story to tell him.\nIt was a most delightful sail.\n\n[Illustration: On the balconies stood princesses.]\n\nSometimes the forests were thick and dark, sometimes like a beautiful\ngarden gay with sunshine and flowers; he passed great palaces of glass\nand of marble, and on the balconies stood princesses, whose faces were\nthose of little girls whom Hjalmar knew well and had often played with.\nOne of the little girls held out her hand, in which was a heart made of\nsugar, more beautiful than any confectioner ever sold. As Hjalmar sailed\nby he caught hold of one side of the sugar heart and held it fast, and\nthe princess held fast too, so that it broke in two pieces. Hjalmar had\none piece and the princess the other, but Hjalmar's was the larger.\n\nAt each castle stood little princes acting as sentinels. They presented\narms and had golden swords and made it rain plums and tin soldiers, so\nthat they must have been real princes.\n\nHjalmar continued to sail, sometimes through woods, sometimes as it were\nthrough large halls, and then by large cities. At last he came to the\ntown where his nurse lived, who had carried him in her arms when he was\na very little boy and had always been kind to him. She nodded and\nbeckoned to him and then sang the little verses she had herself composed\nand sent to him:\n\n          How many, many hours I think on thee,\n            My own dear Hjalmar, still my pride and joy!\n          How have I hung delighted over thee,\n            Kissing thy rosy cheeks, my darling boy!\n\n          Thy first low accents it was mine to hear,\n            To-day my farewell words to thee shall fly.\n          Oh, may the Lord thy shield be ever near\n            And fit thee for a mansion in the sky!\n\nAnd all the birds sang the same tune, the flowers danced on their stems,\nand the old trees nodded as if Ole-Luk-Oie had been telling them\nstories, as well.\n\n\nWEDNESDAY\n\nHow the rain did pour down! Hjalmar could hear it in his sleep, and when\nOle-Luk-Oie opened the window the water flowed quite up to the window\nsill. It had the appearance of a large lake outside, and a beautiful\nship lay close to the house.\n\n\"Wilt thou sail with me to-night, little Hjalmar?\" said Ole-Luk-Oie.\n\"Then we shall see foreign countries, and thou shalt return here in the\nmorning.\"\n\nAll in a moment there stood Hjalmar, in his best clothes, on the deck of\nthe noble ship, and immediately the weather became fine.\n\nThey sailed through the streets, round by the church, while on every\nside rolled the wide, great sea.\n\nThey sailed till the land disappeared, and then they saw a flock of\nstorks who had left their own country and were traveling to warmer\nclimates. The storks flew one behind another and had already been a\nlong, long time on the wing.\n\nOne of them seemed so tired that his wings could scarcely carry him. He\nwas soon left very far behind. At length he sank lower and lower, with\noutstretched wings, flapping them in vain, till his feet touched the\nrigging of the ship, and he slid from the sails to the deck and stood\nbefore them. Then a sailor boy caught him and put him in the henhouse\nwith the fowls, the ducks, and the turkeys, while the poor stork stood\nquite bewildered among them.\n\n\"Just look at that fellow,\" said the chickens.\n\nThen the turkey cock puffed himself out as large as he could and\ninquired who he was, and the ducks waddled backwards, crying, \"Quack,\nquack!\"\n\nThe stork told them all about warm Africa--of the pyramids and of the\nostrich, which, like a wild horse, runs across the desert. But the ducks\ndid not understand what he said, and quacked amongst themselves, \"We are\nall of the same opinion; namely, that he is stupid.\"\n\n\"Yes, to be sure, he is stupid,\" said the turkey cock, and gobbled.\n\nThen the stork remained quite silent and thought of his home in Africa.\n\n\"Those are handsome thin legs of yours,\" said the turkey cock. \"What do\nthey cost a yard?\"\n\n\"Quack, quack, quack,\" grinned the ducks; but the stork pretended not to\nhear.\n\n\"You may as well laugh,\" said the turkey, \"for that remark was rather\nwitty, but perhaps it was above you. Ah, ah, is he not clever? He will\nbe a great amusement to us while he remains here.\" And then he gobbled,\nand the ducks quacked: \"Gobble, gobble\"; \"Quack, quack!\"\n\nWhat a terrible uproar they made while they were having such fun among\nthemselves!\n\nThen Hjalmar went to the henhouse and, opening the door, called to the\nstork. He hopped out on the deck. He had rested himself now, and he\nlooked happy and seemed as if he nodded to Hjalmar as if to thank him.\nThen he spread his wings and flew away to warmer countries, while the\nhens clucked, the ducks quacked, and the turkey cock's head turned quite\nscarlet.\n\n\"To-morrow you shall be made into soup,\" said Hjalmar to the fowls; and\nthen he awoke and found himself lying in his little bed.\n\nIt was a wonderful journey which Ole-Luk-Oie had made him take this\nnight.\n\n\nTHURSDAY\n\n\"What do you think I have here?\" said the Dream Man. \"Do not be\nfrightened, and you shall see a little mouse.\" And then he held out his\nhand, in which lay a lovely little creature. \"It has come to invite you\nto a wedding. Two little mice are going to be married to-night. They\nlive under the floor of your mother's storeroom, and that must be a fine\ndwelling place.\"\n\n\"But how can I get through the little mouse-hole in the floor?\" asked\nthe little boy.\n\n\"Leave me to manage that,\" said the Dream Man. \"I will soon make you\nsmall enough.\" And then he touched the boy with his magic wand, upon\nwhich he became smaller and smaller until at last he was no longer than\na little finger. \"Now you can borrow the dress of your tin soldier. I\nthink it will just fit you. It looks well to wear a uniform when you go\ninto company.\"\n\n\"Yes, certainly,\" said the boy, and in a moment he was dressed as neatly\nas the neatest of all tin soldiers.\n\n\"Will you be so good as to seat yourself in your mamma's thimble,\" said\nthe little mouse, \"that I may have the pleasure of drawing you to the\nwedding?\"\n\n\"Will you really take so much trouble, young lady?\" said he. And so in\nthis way he rode to the mouse's wedding.\n\nFirst they went under the floor, and then through a long passage which\nwas scarcely high enough to allow the thimble to drive under, and the\nwhole passage was lit up with the light of rotten wood.\n\n\"Does it not smell delicious?\" asked the mouse, as she drew him along.\n\"The wall and the floor have been smeared with bacon rind; nothing could\nbe nicer.\"\n\nVery soon they arrived at the bridal hall. On the right stood all the\nlittle lady mice, whispering and giggling as if they were making game\nof each other. To the left were the gentlemen mice, stroking their\nwhiskers with their forepaws. And in the center of the hall could be\nseen the bridal pair, standing side by side in a hollow cheese rind and\nkissing each other while all eyes were upon them.\n\nMore and more friends kept coming, till the mice were in danger of\ntreading each other to death; for the bridal pair now stood in the\ndoorway, and none could pass in or out.\n\nThe room had been rubbed over with bacon rind like the passage, which\nwas all the refreshment offered to the guests. But for dessert a pea was\npassed around, on which a mouse had bitten the first letters of the\nnames of the betrothed pair. This was something quite uncommon. All the\nmice said it was a very beautiful wedding, and that they had been very\nagreeably entertained.\n\nAfter this Hjalmar returned home. He had certainly been in grand\nsociety, but he had been obliged to creep under a room and to make\nhimself small enough to wear the uniform of a tin soldier.\n\n\nFRIDAY\n\n\"It is incredible how many old people there are who would be glad to\nhave me at night,\" said Ole-Luk-Oie, \"especially those who have done\nsomething wrong.\n\n\"'Good old Ole,' say they to me, 'we cannot close our eyes, and we lie\nawake the whole night and see all our evil deeds sitting on our beds\nlike little imps and sprinkling us with scalding water. Will you come\nand drive them away, that we may have a good night's rest?' and then\nthey sigh so deeply and say: 'We would gladly pay you for it. Good\nnight, Ole-Luk, the money lies in the window.' But I never do anything\nfor gold.\"\n\n\"What shall we do to-night?\" asked Hjalmar.\n\n\"I do not know whether you would care to go to another wedding,\" replied\nOle-Luk-Oie, \"although it is quite a different affair from the one we\nsaw last night. Your sister's large doll, that is dressed like a man and\nis called Herman, intends to marry the doll Bertha. It is also the\ndolls' birthday, and they will receive many presents.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know that already,\" said Hjalmar; \"my sister always allows her\ndolls to keep their birthdays or to have a wedding when they require new\nclothes. That has happened already a hundred times, I am quite sure.\"\n\n\"Yes, so it may; but to-night is the hundred-and-first wedding, and when\nthat has taken place it must be the last; therefore this is to be\nextremely beautiful. Only look.\"\n\nHjalmar looked at the table, and there stood the little cardboard dolls'\nhouse, with lights in all the windows, and drawn up before it were the\ntin soldiers, presenting arms.\n\nThe bridal pair were seated on the floor, leaning against the leg of the\ntable, looking very thoughtful and with good reason. Then Ole-Luk-Oie,\ndressed up in grandmother's black gown, married them.\n\nAs soon as the ceremony was concluded all the furniture in the room\njoined in singing a beautiful song which had been composed by the lead\npencil, and which went to the melody of a military tattoo:\n\n          \"Waft, gentle breeze, our kind farewell\n           To the tiny house where the bride folks dwell.\n           With their skin of kid leather fitting so well,\n           They are straight and upright as a tailor's ell.\n           Hurrah! hurrah! for beau and belle.\n           Let echo repeat our kind farewell.\"\n\nAnd now came the presents; but the bridal pair had nothing to eat, for\nlove was to be their food.\n\n\"Shall we go to a country house, or travel?\" asked the bridegroom.\n\nThey consulted the swallow, who had traveled so far, and the old hen in\nthe yard, who had brought up five broods of chickens.\n\nAnd the swallow talked to them of warm countries where the grapes hang\nin large clusters on the vines and the air is soft and mild, and about\nthe mountains glowing with colors more beautiful than we can think of.\n\n\"But they have no red cabbage such as we have,\" said the hen. \"I was\nonce in the country with my chickens for a whole summer. There was a\nlarge sand pit in which we could walk about and scratch as we liked.\nThen we got into a garden in which grew red cabbage. Oh, how nice it\nwas! I cannot think of anything more delicious.\"\n\n\"But one cabbage stalk is exactly like another,\" said the swallow; \"and\nhere we often have bad weather.\"\n\n\"Yes, but we are accustomed to it,\" said the hen.\n\n\"But it is so cold here, and freezes sometimes.\"\n\n\"Cold weather is good for cabbages,\" said the hen; \"besides, we do have\nit warm here sometimes. Four years ago we had a summer that lasted more\nthan five weeks, and it was so hot one could scarcely breathe. And then\nin this country we have no poisonous animals, and we are free from\nrobbers. He must be a blockhead, who does not consider our country the\nfinest of all lands. He ought not to be allowed to live here.\" And then\nthe hen wept very much and said: \"I have also traveled. I once went\ntwelve miles in a coop, and it was not pleasant traveling at all.\"\n\n\"The hen is a sensible woman,\" said the doll Bertha. \"I don't care for\ntraveling over mountains, just to go up and come down again. No, let us\ngo to the sand pit in front of the gate and then take a walk in the\ncabbage garden.\"\n\nAnd so they settled it.\n\n[Illustration: Look at these ... Chinese people ...]\n\n\nSATURDAY\n\n\"Am I to hear any more stories?\" asked little Hjalmar, as soon as\nOle-Luk-Oie had sent him to sleep.\n\n\"We shall have no time this evening,\" said he, spreading out his\nprettiest umbrella over the child. \"Look at these Chinese people.\" And\nthen the whole umbrella appeared like a large china bowl, with blue\ntrees and pointed bridges upon which stood little Chinamen nodding their\nheads.\n\n\"We must make all the world beautiful for to-morrow morning,\" said\nOle-Luk-Oie, \"for it will be a holiday; it is Sunday. I must now go to\nthe church steeple and see if the little sprites who live there have\npolished the bells so that they may sound sweetly; then I must go into\nthe fields and see if the wind has blown the dust from the grass and the\nleaves; and the most difficult task of all which I have to do is to take\ndown all the stars and brighten them up. I have to number them first\nbefore I put them in my apron, and also to number the places from which\nI take them, so that they may go back into the right holes, or else\nthey would not remain and we should have a number of falling stars, for\nthey would all tumble down one after another.\"\n\n\"Hark ye, Mr. Luk-Oie!\" said an old portrait which hung on the wall of\nHjalmar's bedroom. \"Do you know me? I am Hjalmar's great-grandfather. I\nthank you for telling the boy stories, but you must not confuse his\nideas. The stars cannot be taken down from the sky and polished; they\nare spheres like our earth, which is a good thing for them.\"\n\n\"Thank you, old great-grandfather,\" said Ole-Luk-Oie. \"I thank you. You\nmay be the head of the family, as no doubt you are, and very old, but I\nam older still. I am an ancient heathen. The old Romans and Greeks named\nme the Dream God. I have visited the noblest houses,--yes, and I\ncontinue to do so,--still I know how to conduct myself both to high and\nlow, and now you may tell the stories yourself\"; and so Ole-Luk-Oie\nwalked off, taking his umbrellas with him.\n\n\"Well, well, one is never to give an opinion, I suppose,\" grumbled the\nportrait. And it woke Hjalmar.\n\n\nSUNDAY\n\n\"Good evening,\" said Ole-Luk-Oie.\n\nHjalmar nodded, and then sprang out of bed and turned his\ngreat-grandfather's portrait to the wall so that it might not interrupt\nthem as it had done yesterday. \"Now,\" said he, \"you must tell me some\nstories about five green peas that lived in one pod, or of the chickseed\nthat courted the chickweed, or of the Darning-needle who acted so\nproudly because she fancied herself an embroidery needle.\"\n\n\"You may have too much of a good thing,\" said Ole-Luk-Oie. \"You know\nthat I like best to show you something, so I will show you my brother.\nHe is also called Ole-Luk-Oie, but he never visits any one but once, and\nwhen he does come he takes him away on his horse and tells him stories\nas they ride along.\n\n\"He knows only two stories. One of these is so wonderfully beautiful\nthat no one in the world can imagine anything at all like it, but the\nother it would be impossible to describe.\"\n\nThen Ole-Luk-Oie lifted Hjalmar up to the window. \"There, now you can\nsee my brother, the other Ole-Luk-Oie; he is also called Death. You see\nhe is not so bad as they represent him in picture books. There he is a\nskeleton, but here his coat is embroidered with silver, and he wears the\nsplendid uniform of a hussar, and a mantle of black velvet flies behind\nhim over the horse. Look, how he gallops along.\"\n\nHjalmar saw that as this Ole-Luk-Oie rode on he lifted up old and young\nand carried them away on his horse. Some he seated in front of him and\nsome behind, but always inquired first, \"How stands the record book?\"\n\n\"Good,\" they all answered.\n\n\"Yes, but let me see for myself,\" he replied, and they were obliged to\ngive him the books. Then all those who had \"Very good\" or \"Exceedingly\ngood\" came in front of the horse and heard the beautiful story, while\nthose who had \"Middling\" or \"Fairly good\" in their books were obliged to\nsit behind. They cried and wanted to jump down from the horse, but they\ncould not get free, for they seemed fastened to the seat.\n\n\"Why, Death is a most splendid Luk-Oie,\" said Hjalmar. \"I am not in the\nleast afraid of him.\"\n\n\"You need have no fear of him,\" said Ole-Luk-Oie; \"but take care and\nkeep a good conduct book.\"\n\n\"Now I call that very instructive,\" murmured the great-grandfather's\nportrait. \"It is useful sometimes to express an opinion.\" So he was\nquite satisfied.\n\nThese are some of the doings and sayings of Ole-Luk-Oie. I hope he may\nvisit you himself this evening and relate some more.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE MONEY BOX\n\n\nIN a nursery where a number of toys lay scattered about, a money box\nstood on the top of a very high wardrobe. It was made of clay in the\nshape of a pig and had been bought of the potter. In the back of the pig\nwas a slit, and this slit had been enlarged with a knife so that\ndollars, or even crown pieces, might slip through--and indeed there were\ntwo in the box, besides a number of pence. The money-pig was stuffed so\nfull that it could no longer rattle, which is the highest state of\nperfectness to which a money-pig can attain.\n\nThere he stood upon the cupboard, high and lofty, looking down upon\neverything else in the room. He knew very well that he had enough inside\nhimself to buy up all the other toys, and this gave him a very good\nopinion of his own value.\n\nThe rest thought of this fact also, although they did not express it,\nthere were so many other things to talk about. A large doll, still\nhandsome (though rather old, for her neck had been mended) lay inside\none of the drawers, which was partly open. She called out to the others,\n\"Let us have a game at being men and women; that is something worth\nplaying at.\"\n\nUpon this there was a great uproar; even the engravings which hung in\nframes on the wall turned round in their excitement and showed that they\nhad a wrong side to them, although they had not the least intention of\nexposing themselves in this way or of objecting to the game.\n\nIt was late at night, but as the moon shone through the windows, they\nhad light at a cheap rate. And as the game was now to begin, all were\ninvited to take part in it, even the children's wagon, which certainly\nbelonged among the coarser playthings. \"Each has its own value,\" said\nthe wagon; \"we cannot all be noblemen; there must be some to do the\nwork.\"\n\nThe money-pig was the only one who received a written invitation. He\nstood so high that they were afraid he would not accept a verbal\nmessage. But in his reply he said if he had to take a part he must enjoy\nthe sport from his own home; they were to arrange for him to do so. And\nso they did.\n\nThe little toy theater was therefore put up in such a way that the\nmoney-pig could look directly into it. Some wanted to begin with a\ncomedy and afterwards to have a tea party and a discussion for mental\nimprovement, but they began with the latter first.\n\nThe rocking-horse spoke of training and races; the wagon, of railways\nand steam power--for these subjects belonged to each of their\nprofessions, and it was right they should talk of them. The clock talked\npolitics--\"Tick, tick.\" He professed to know what was the time of the\nday, but there was a whisper that he did not go correctly. The bamboo\ncane stood by, looking stiff and proud (he was vain of his brass ferrule\nand silver top), and on the sofa lay two worked cushions, pretty but\nstupid.\n\nWhen the play at the little theater began, the rest sat and looked on;\nthey were requested to applaud and stamp, or crack, whenever they felt\ngratified with what they saw. The riding whip said he never cracked for\nold people, only for the young--those who were not yet married. \"I crack\nfor everybody,\" said the nutcracker.\n\n\"Yes, and a fine noise you make,\" thought the audience as the play went\non.\n\nIt was not worth much, but it was very well played, and all the actors\nturned their painted sides to the audience, for they were made to be\nseen only on one side. The acting was wonderful, excepting that\nsometimes the actors came out beyond the lamps, because the wires were a\nlittle too long.\n\nThe doll whose neck had been mended was so excited that the place in her\nneck burst, and the money-pig declared he must do something for one of\nthe players as they had all pleased him so much. So he made up his mind\nto mention one of them in his will as the one to be buried with him in\nthe family vault, whenever that event should happen.\n\nThey enjoyed the comedy so much that they gave up all thoughts of the\ntea party and only carried out their idea of intellectual amusement,\nwhich they called playing at men and women. And there was nothing wrong\nabout it, for it was only play. All the while each one thought most of\nhimself or of what the money-pig could be thinking. The money-pig's\nthoughts were on (as he supposed) a very far-distant time--of making his\nwill, and of his burial, and of when it might all come to pass.\n\nCertainly sooner than he expected; for all at once down he came from the\ntop of the press, fell on the floor, and was broken to pieces. Then all\nthe pennies hopped and danced about in the most amusing manner. The\nlittle ones twirled round like tops, and the large ones rolled away as\nfar as they could, especially the one great silver crown piece, who had\noften wanted to go out into the world. And he had his wish as well as\nall the rest of the money. The pieces of the money-pig were thrown into\nthe dustbin, and the next day there stood a new money-pig on the\ncupboard, but it had not a farthing inside it yet, and therefore, like\nthe old one, could not rattle.\n\nThis was the beginning with him, and with us it shall be the end of our\nstory.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nELDER-TREE MOTHER\n\n\nTHERE was once a little boy who had taken cold by going out and getting\nhis feet wet. No one could think how he had managed to do so, for the\nweather was quite dry. His mother undressed him and put him to bed, and\nthen she brought in the teapot to make him a good cup of elder tea,\nwhich is so warming.\n\nAt the same time the friendly old man who lived all alone at the top of\nthe house came in at the door. He had neither wife nor child, but he was\nvery fond of children and knew so many fairy tales and stories that it\nwas a pleasure to hear him talk. \"Now, if you drink your tea,\" said the\nmother, \"very likely you will have a story in the meantime.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"But how did the little fellow get his feet wet?\" asked\nhe....]\n\n\"Yes, if I could think of a new one to tell,\" said the old man. \"But how\ndid the little fellow get his feet wet?\" asked he.\n\n\"Ah,\" said the mother, \"that is what we cannot make out.\"\n\n\"Will you tell me a story?\" asked the boy.\n\n\"Yes, if you can tell me exactly how deep the gutter is in the little\nstreet through which you go to school.\"\n\n\"Just halfway up to my knee,\" said the boy, promptly; \"that is, if I\nstand in the deepest part.\"\n\n\"It is easy to see how we got our feet wet,\" said the old man. \"Well,\nnow I suppose I ought to tell a story, but really I don't know any\nmore.\"\n\n\"You can make up one, I know,\" said the boy. \"Mother says that you can\nturn everything you look at into a story, and everything, even, that you\ntouch.\"\n\n\"Ah, but those tales and stories are worth nothing. The real ones come\nof themselves; they knock at my forehead and say, 'Here we are!'\"\n\n\"Won't there be a knock soon?\" asked the boy. And his mother laughed as\nshe put elder flowers in the teapot and poured boiling water over them.\n\"Oh, do tell me a story.\"\n\n\"Yes, if a story comes of itself, but tales and stories are very grand;\nthey only come when it pleases them. Stop,\" he cried all at once, \"here\nwe have it; look! there is a story in the teapot now.\"\n\nThe little boy looked at the teapot and saw the lid raise itself\ngradually and long branches stretch out, even from the spout, in all\ndirections till they became larger and larger, and there appeared a\ngreat elder tree covered with flowers white and fresh. It spread itself\neven to the bed and pushed the curtains aside, and oh, how fragrant the\nblossoms were!\n\nIn the midst of the tree sat a pleasant-looking old woman in a very\nstrange dress. The dress was green, like the leaves of the elder tree,\nand was decorated with large white elder blossoms. It was not easy to\ntell whether the border was made of some kind of stuff or of real\nflowers.\n\n\"What is that woman's name?\" asked the boy.\n\n\"The Romans and Greeks called her a dryad,\" said the old man, \"but we do\nnot understand that name; we have a better one for her in the quarter\nof the town where the sailors live. They call her Elder-flower Mother,\nand you must pay attention to her now, and listen while you look at the\nbeautiful tree.\n\n\"Just such a large, blooming tree as this stands outside in the corner\nof a poor little yard, and under this tree, one bright sunny afternoon,\nsat two old people, a sailor and his wife. They had great-grandchildren,\nand would soon celebrate the golden wedding, which is the fiftieth\nanniversary of the wedding day in many countries, and the Elder Mother\nsat in the tree and looked as pleased as she does now.\n\n\"'I know when the golden wedding is to be,' said she, but they did not\nhear her; they were talking of olden times. 'Do you remember,' said the\nold sailor, 'when we were quite little and used to run about and play in\nthe very same yard where we are now sitting, and how we planted little\ntwigs in one corner and made a garden?'\n\n\"'Yes,' said the old woman, 'I remember it quite well; and how we\nwatered the twigs, and one of them was a sprig of elder that took root\nand put forth green shoots, until in time it became the great tree under\nwhich we old people are now seated.'\n\n\"'To be sure,' he replied, 'and in that corner yonder stands the water\nbutt in which I used to swim my boat that I had cut out all myself; and\nit sailed well too. But since then I have learned a very different kind\nof sailing.'\n\n\"'Yes, but before that we went to school,' said she, 'and then we were\nprepared for confirmation. How we both cried on that day! But in the\nafternoon we went hand in hand up to the round tower and saw the view\nover Copenhagen and across the water; then we went to Fredericksburg,\nwhere the king and queen were sailing in their beautiful boat on the\ncanals.'\n\n\"'But I had to sail on a very different voyage elsewhere and be away\nfrom home for years on long voyages,' said the old sailor.\n\n\"'Ah yes, and I used to cry about you,' said she, 'for I thought you\nmust be lying drowned at the bottom of the sea, with the waves sweeping\nover you. And many a time have I got up in the night to see if the\nweathercock had turned; it turned often enough, but you came not. How\nwell I remember one day the rain was pouring down from the skies, and\nthe man came to the house where I was in service to take away the dust.\nI went down to him with the dust box and stood for a moment at the\ndoor,--what shocking weather it was!--and while I stood there the\npostman came up and brought me a letter from you.\n\n\"'How that letter had traveled about! I tore it open and read it. I\nlaughed and wept at the same time, I was so happy. It said that you were\nin warm countries where the coffee berries grew, and what a beautiful\ncountry it was, and described many other wonderful things. And so I\nstood reading by the dustbin, with the rain pouring down, when all at\nonce somebody came and clasped me round the waist.'\n\n\"'Yes, and you gave him such a box on the ears that they tingled,' said\nthe old man.\n\n\"'I did not know that it was you,' she replied; 'but you had arrived as\nquickly as your letter, and you looked so handsome, and, indeed, so you\nare still. You had a large yellow silk handkerchief in your pocket and\na shiny hat on your head. You looked quite fine. And all the time what\nweather it was, and how dismal the street looked!'\n\n\"'And then do you remember,' said he, 'when we were married, and our\nfirst boy came, and then Marie, and Niels, and Peter, and Hans\nChristian?'\n\n\"'Indeed I do,' she replied; 'and they are all grown up respectable men\nand women, whom every one likes.'\n\n\"'And now their children have little ones,' said the old sailor. 'There\nare great-grandchildren for us, strong and healthy too. Was it not about\nthis time of year that we were married?'\n\n\"'Yes, and to-day is the golden-wedding day,' said Elder-tree Mother,\npopping her head out just between the two old people; and they thought\nit was a neighbor nodding to them. Then they looked at each other and\nclasped their hands together. Presently came their children and\ngrand*-children, who knew very well that it was the golden-wedding day.\nThey had already wished them joy on that very morning, but the old\npeople had forgotten it, although they remembered so well all that had\nhappened many years before. And the elder tree smelled sweet, and the\nsetting sun shone upon the faces of the old people till they looked\nquite ruddy. And the youngest of their grandchildren danced round them\njoyfully, and said they were going to have a feast in the evening, and\nthere were to be hot potatoes. Then the Elder Mother nodded in the tree\nand cried 'Hurrah!' with all the rest.\"\n\n\"But that is not a story,\" said the little boy who had been listening.\n\n\"Not till you understand it,\" said the old man. \"But let us ask the\nElder Mother to explain it.\"\n\n\"It was not exactly a story,\" said the Elder Mother, \"but the story is\ncoming now, and it is a true one. For out of truth the most wonderful\nstories grow, just as my beautiful elder bush has sprung out of the\nteapot.\" And then she took the little boy out of bed and laid him on her\nbosom, and the blooming branches of elder closed over them so that they\nsat, as it were, in a leafy bower, and the bower flew with them through\nthe air in the most delightful manner.\n\nThen the Elder Mother all at once changed to a beautiful young maiden,\nbut her dress was still of the same green stuff, ornamented with a\nborder of white elder blossoms such as the Elder Mother had worn. In her\nbosom she wore a real elder flower, and a wreath of the same was\nentwined in her golden ringlets. Her large blue eyes were very beautiful\nto look at. She was of the same age as the boy, and they kissed each\nother and felt very happy.\n\nThey left the arbor together, hand in hand, and found themselves in a\nbeautiful flower garden which belonged to their home. On the green lawn\ntheir father's stick was tied up. There was life in this stick for the\nlittle ones, for no sooner did they place themselves upon it than the\nwhite knob changed into a pretty neighing head with a black, flowing\nmane, and four long, slender legs sprung forth. The creature was strong\nand spirited, and galloped with them round the grassplot.\n\n\"Hurrah! now we will ride many miles away,\" said the boy; \"we'll ride to\nthe nobleman's estate, where we went last year.\"\n\nThen they rode round the grassplot again, and the little maiden, who, we\nknow, was Elder-tree Mother, kept crying out: \"Now we are in the\ncountry. Do you see the farmhouse, with a great baking oven standing out\nfrom the wall by the road-side like a gigantic egg? There is an elder\nspreading its branches over it, and a cock is marching about and\nscratching for the chickens. See how he struts!\n\n\"Now we are near the church. There it stands on the hill, shaded by the\ngreat oak trees, one of which is half dead. See, here we are at the\nblacksmith's forge. How the fire burns! And the half-clad men are\nstriking the hot iron with the hammer, so that the sparks fly about. Now\nthen, away to the nobleman's beautiful estate!\" And the boy saw all that\nthe little girl spoke of as she sat behind him on the stick, for it\npassed before him although they were only galloping round the grassplot.\nThen they played together in a side walk and raked up the earth to make\na little garden. Then she took elder flowers out of her hair and planted\nthem, and they grew just like those which he had heard the old people\ntalking about, and which they had planted in their young days. They\nwalked about hand in hand too, just as the old people had done when they\nwere children, but they did not go up the round tower nor to\nFredericksburg garden. No; but the little girl seized the boy round the\nwaist, and they rode all over the whole country (sometimes it was\nspring, then summer; then autumn and winter followed), while thousands\nof images were presented to the boy's eyes and heart, and the little\ngirl constantly sang to him, \"You must never forget all this.\" And\nthrough their whole flight the elder tree sent forth the sweetest\nfragrance.\n\nThey passed roses and fresh beech trees, but the perfume of the elder\ntree was stronger than all, for its flowers hung round the little\nmaiden's heart, against which the boy so often leaned his head during\ntheir flight.\n\n\"It is beautiful here in the spring,\" said the maiden, as they stood in\na grove of beech trees covered with fresh green leaves, while at their\nfeet the sweet-scented thyme and blushing anemone lay spread amid the\ngreen grass in delicate bloom. \"O that it were always spring in the\nfragrant beech groves!\"\n\n\"Here it is delightful in summer,\" said the maiden, as they passed old\nknights' castles telling of days gone by and saw the high walls and\npointed gables mirrored in the rivers beneath, where swans were sailing\nabout and peeping into the cool green avenues. In the fields the corn\nwaved to and fro like the sea. Red and yellow flowers grew amongst the\nruins, and the hedges were covered with wild hops and blooming\nconvolvulus. In the evening the moon rose round and full, and the\nhaystacks in the meadows filled the air with their sweet scent. These\nwere scenes never to be forgotten.\n\n\"It is lovely here also in autumn,\" said the little maiden, and then the\nscene changed again. The sky appeared higher and more beautifully blue,\nwhile the forest glowed with colors of red, green, and gold. The hounds\nwere off to the chase, and large flocks of wild birds flew screaming\nover the Huns' graves, where the blackberry bushes twined round the old\nruins. The dark blue sea was dotted with white sails, and in the barns\nsat old women, maidens, and children picking hops into a large tub. The\nyoung ones sang songs, and the old ones told fairy tales of wizards and\nwitches. There could be nothing more pleasant than all this.\n\n\"Again,\" said the maiden, \"it is beautiful here in winter.\" Then in a\nmoment all the trees were covered with hoarfrost, so that they looked\nlike white coral. The snow crackled beneath the feet as if every one had\non new boots, and one shooting star after another fell from the sky. In\nwarm rooms there could be seen the Christmas trees, decked out with\npresents and lighted up amid festivities and joy. In the country\nfarmhouses could be heard the sound of a violin, and there were games\nfor apples, so that even the poorest child could say, \"It is beautiful\nin winter.\"\n\nAnd beautiful indeed were all the scenes which the maiden showed to the\nlittle boy, and always around them floated the fragrance of the elder\nblossom, and ever above them waved the red flag with the white cross,\nunder which the old seaman had sailed. The boy--who had become a youth,\nand who had gone as a sailor out into the wide world and sailed to warm\ncountries where the coffee grew, and to whom the little girl had given\nan elder blossom from her bosom for a keepsake, when she took leave of\nhim--placed the flower in his hymn book; and when he opened it in\nforeign lands he always turned to the spot where this flower of\nremembrance lay, and the more he looked at it the fresher it appeared.\nHe could, as it were, breathe the homelike fragrance of the woods, and\nsee the little girl looking at him from between the petals of the flower\nwith her clear blue eyes, and hear her whispering, \"It is beautiful here\nat home in spring and summer, in autumn and in winter,\" while hundreds\nof these home scenes passed through his memory.\n\nMany years had passed, and he was now an old man, seated with his old\nwife under an elder tree in full blossom. They were holding each other's\nhands, just as the great-grandfather and grandmother had done, and\nspoke, as they did, of olden times and of the golden wedding. The little\nmaiden with the blue eyes and with the elder blossoms in her hair sat in\nthe tree and nodded to them and said, \"To-day is the golden wedding.\"\n\n[Illustration: As she placed them on the heads of the old people, each\nflower became a golden crown.]\n\nAnd then she took two flowers out of her wreath and kissed them, and\nthey shone first like silver and then like gold, and as she placed them\non the heads of the old people, each flower became a golden crown. And\nthere they sat like a king and queen under the sweet-scented tree,\nwhich still looked like an elder bush. Then he related to his old wife\nthe story of the Elder-tree Mother, just as he had heard it told when he\nwas a little boy, and they both fancied it very much like their own\nstory, especially in parts which they liked the best.\n\n\"Well, and so it is,\" said the little maiden in the tree. \"Some call me\nElder Mother, others a dryad, but my real name is Memory. It is I who\nsit in the tree as it grows and grows, and I can think of the past and\nrelate many things. Let me see if you have still preserved the flower.\"\n\nThen the old man opened his hymn book, and there lay the elder flower,\nas fresh as if it had only just been placed there, and Memory nodded.\nAnd the two old people with the golden crowns on their heads sat in the\nred glow of the evening sunlight and closed their eyes, and--and--the\nstory was ended.\n\nThe little boy lay in his bed and did not quite know whether he had been\ndreaming or listening to a story. The teapot stood on the table, but no\nelder bush grew out of it, and the old man who had really told the tale\nwas on the threshold and just going out at the door.\n\n\"How beautiful it was,\" said the little boy. \"Mother, I have been to\nwarm countries.\"\n\n\"I can quite believe it,\" said his mother. \"When any one drinks two full\ncups of elder-flower tea, he may well get into warm countries\"; and then\nshe covered him up, that he should not take cold. \"You have slept well\nwhile I have been disputing with the old man as to whether it was a real\nstory or a fairy legend.\"\n\n\"And where is the Elder-tree Mother?\" asked the boy.\n\n\"She is in the teapot,\" said the mother, \"and there she may stay.\"\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE SNOW QUEEN\n\n\nSTORY THE FIRST\n\nWHICH DESCRIBES A LOOKING-GLASS AND ITS BROKEN FRAGMENTS\n\nYOU must attend to the beginning of this story, for when we get to the\nend we shall know more than we now do about a very wicked hobgoblin; he\nwas one of the most mischievous of all sprites, for he was a real demon.\n\nOne day when he was in a merry mood he made a looking-glass which had\nthe power of making everything good or beautiful that was reflected in\nit shrink almost to nothing, while everything that was worthless and bad\nwas magnified so as to look ten times worse than it really was.\n\nThe most lovely landscapes appeared like boiled spinach, and all the\npeople became hideous and looked as if they stood on their heads and had\nno bodies. Their countenances were so distorted that no one could\nrecognize them, and even one freckle on the face appeared to spread over\nthe whole of the nose and mouth. The demon said this was very amusing.\nWhen a good or holy thought passed through the mind of any one a wrinkle\nwas seen in the mirror, and then how the demon laughed at his cunning\ninvention.\n\nAll who went to the demon's school--for he kept a school--talked\neverywhere of the wonders they had seen, and declared that people could\nnow, for the first time, see what the world and its inhabitants were\nreally like. They carried the glass about everywhere, till at last there\nwas not a land nor a people who had not been looked at through this\ndistorted mirror.\n\nThey wanted even to fly with it up to heaven to see the angels, but the\nhigher they flew the more slippery the glass became, and they could\nscarcely hold it. At last it slipped from their hands, fell to the\nearth, and was broken into millions of pieces.\n\nBut now the looking-glass caused more unhappiness than ever, for some of\nthe fragments were not so large as a grain of sand, and they flew about\nthe world into every country. And when one of these tiny atoms flew into\na person's eye it stuck there, unknown to himself, and from that moment\nhe viewed everything the wrong way, and could see only the worst side of\nwhat he looked at, for even the smallest fragment retained the same\npower which had belonged to the whole mirror.\n\nSome few persons even got a splinter of the looking-glass in their\nhearts, and this was terrible, for their hearts became cold and hard\nlike a lump of ice. A few of the pieces were so large that they could be\nused as windowpanes; it would have been a sad thing indeed to look at\nour friends through them. Other pieces were made into spectacles, and\nthis was dreadful, for those who wore them could see nothing either\nrightly or justly. At all this the wicked demon laughed till his sides\nshook, to see the mischief he had done. There are still a number of\nthese little fragments of glass floating about in the air, and now you\nshall hear what happened with one of them.\n\n\nSECOND STORY\n\nA LITTLE BOY AND A LITTLE GIRL\n\nIn a large town full of houses and people there is not room for\neverybody to have even a little garden. Most people are obliged to\ncontent themselves with a few flowers in flowerpots.\n\nIn one of these large towns lived two poor children who had a garden\nsomewhat larger and better than a few flowerpots. They were not brother\nand sister, but they loved each other almost as much as if they had\nbeen. Their parents lived opposite each other in two garrets where the\nroofs of neighboring houses nearly joined each other, and the water pipe\nran between them. In each roof was a little window, so that any one\ncould step across the gutter from one window to the other.\n\nThe parents of each of these children had a large wooden box in which\nthey cultivated kitchen vegetables for their own use, and in each box\nwas a little rosebush which grew luxuriantly.\n\nAfter a while the parents decided to place these two boxes across the\nwater pipe, so that they reached from one window to the other and\nlooked like two banks of flowers. Sweet peas drooped over the boxes, and\nthe rosebushes shot forth long branches, which were trained about the\nwindows and clustered together almost like a triumphal arch of leaves\nand flowers.\n\nThe boxes were very high, and the children knew they must not climb upon\nthem without permission; but they often had leave to step out and sit\nupon their little stools under the rosebushes or play quietly together.\n\nIn winter all this pleasure came to an end, for the windows were\nsometimes quite frozen over. But they would warm copper pennies on the\nstove and hold the warm pennies against the frozen pane; then there\nwould soon be a little round hole through which they could peep, and the\nsoft, bright eyes of the little boy and girl would sparkle through the\nhole at each window as they looked at each other. Their names were Kay\nand Gerda. In summer they could be together with one jump from the\nwindow, but in winter they had to go up and down the long staircase and\nout through the snow before they could meet.\n\n\"See! there are the white bees swarming,\" said Kay's old grandmother one\nday when it was snowing.\n\n\"Have they a queen bee?\" asked the little boy, for he knew that the real\nbees always had a queen.\n\n\"To be sure they have,\" said the grandmother. \"She is flying there where\nthe swarm is thickest. She is the largest of them all and never remains\non the earth, but flies up to the dark clouds. Often at midnight she\nflies through the streets of the town and breathes with her frosty\nbreath upon the windows; then the ice freezes on the panes into\nwonderful forms that look like flowers and castles.\"\n\n\"Yes, I have seen them,\" said both the children; and they knew it must\nbe true.\n\n\"Can the Snow Queen come in here?\" asked the little girl.\n\n\"Only let her come,\" said the boy. \"I'll put her on the warm stove, and\nthen she'll melt.\"\n\nThe grandmother smoothed his hair and told him more stories.\n\nThat same evening when little Kay was at home, half undressed, he\nclimbed upon a chair by the window and peeped out through the little\nround hole. A few flakes of snow were falling, and one of them, rather\nlarger than the rest, alighted on the edge of one of the flower boxes.\nStrange to say, this snowflake grew larger and larger till at last it\ntook the form of a woman dressed in garments of white gauze, which\nlooked like millions of starry snowflakes linked together. She was fair\nand beautiful, but made of ice--glittering, dazzling ice. Still, she was\nalive, and her eyes sparkled like bright stars, though there was neither\npeace nor rest in them. She nodded toward the window and waved her hand.\nThe little boy was frightened and sprang from the chair, and at the same\nmoment it seemed as if a large bird flew by the window.\n\nOn the following day there was a clear frost, and very soon came the\nspring. The sun shone; the young green leaves burst forth; the swallows\nbuilt their nests; windows were opened, and the children sat once more\nin the garden on the roof, high above all the other rooms.\n\n[Illustration: The children sat once more in the garden on the roof....]\n\nHow beautifully the roses blossomed this summer! The little girl had\nlearned a hymn in which roses were spoken of. She thought of their own\nroses, and she sang the hymn to the little boy, and he sang, too:\n\n          \"Roses bloom and fade away;\n           The Christ-child shall abide alway.\n           Blessed are we his face to see\n           And ever little children be.\"\n\nThen the little ones held each other by the hand, and kissed the roses,\nand looked at the bright sunshine, and spoke to it as if the\nChrist-child were really there. Those were glorious summer days. How\nbeautiful and fresh it was out among the rosebushes, which seemed as if\nthey would never leave off blooming.\n\nOne day Kay and Gerda sat looking at a book of pictures of animals and\nbirds. Just then, as the clock in the church tower struck twelve, Kay\nsaid, \"Oh, something has struck my heart!\" and soon after, \"There is\ncertainly something in my eye.\"\n\nThe little girl put her arm round his neck and looked into his eye, but\nshe could see nothing.\n\n\"I believe it is gone,\" he said. But it was not gone; it was one of\nthose bits of the looking-glass,--that magic mirror of which we have\nspoken,--the ugly glass which made everything great and good appear\nsmall and ugly, while all that was wicked and bad became more visible,\nand every little fault could be plainly seen. Poor little Kay had also\nreceived a small splinter in his heart, which very quickly turned to a\nlump of ice. He felt no more pain, but the glass was there still. \"Why\ndo you cry?\" said he at last. \"It makes you look ugly. There is nothing\nthe matter with me now. Oh, fie!\" he cried suddenly; \"that rose is\nworm-eaten, and this one is quite crooked. After all, they are ugly\nroses, just like the box in which they stand.\" And then he kicked the\nboxes with his foot and pulled off the two roses.\n\n\"Why, Kay, what are you doing?\" cried the little girl; and then when he\nsaw how grieved she was he tore off another rose and jumped through his\nown window, away from sweet little Gerda.\n\nWhen afterward she brought out the picture book he said, \"It is only fit\nfor babies in long clothes,\" and when grandmother told stories he would\ninterrupt her with \"but\"; or sometimes when he could manage it he would\nget behind her chair, put on a pair of spectacles, and imitate her very\ncleverly to make the people laugh. By and by he began to mimic the\nspeech and gait of persons in the street. All that was peculiar or\ndisagreeable in a person he would imitate directly, and people said,\n\"That boy will be very clever; he has a remarkable genius.\" But it was\nthe piece of glass in his eye and the coldness in his heart that made\nhim act like this. He would even tease little Gerda, who loved him with\nall her heart.\n\nHis games too were quite different; they were not so childlike. One\nwinter's day, when it snowed, he brought out a burning glass, then,\nholding out the skirt of his blue coat, let the snowflakes fall upon it.\n\n\"Look in this glass, Gerda,\" said he, and she saw how every flake of\nsnow was magnified and looked like a beautiful flower or a glittering\nstar.\n\n\"Is it not clever,\" said Kay, \"and much more interesting than looking at\nreal flowers? There is not a single fault in it. The snowflakes are\nquite perfect till they begin to melt.\"\n\nSoon after, Kay made his appearance in large, thick gloves and with his\nsledge at his back. He called upstairs to Gerda, \"I've got leave to go\ninto the great square, where the other boys play and ride.\" And away he\nwent.\n\nIn the great square the boldest among the boys would often tie their\nsledges to the wagons of the country people and so get a ride. This was\ncapital. But while they were all amusing themselves, and Kay with them,\na great sledge came by; it was painted white, and in it sat some one\nwrapped in a rough white fur and wearing a white cap. The sledge drove\ntwice round the square, and Kay fastened his own little sledge to it, so\nthat when it went away he went with it. It went faster and faster right\nthrough the next street, and the person who drove turned round and\nnodded pleasantly to Kay as if they were well acquainted with each\nother; but whenever Kay wished to loosen his little sledge the driver\nturned and nodded as if to signify that he was to stay, so Kay sat\nstill, and they drove out through the town gate.\n\nThen the snow began to fall so heavily that the little boy could not see\na hand's breadth before him, but still they drove on. He suddenly\nloosened the cord so that the large sledge might go on without him, but\nit was of no use; his little carriage held fast, and away they went like\nthe wind. Then he called out loudly, but nobody heard him, while the\nsnow beat upon him, and the sledge flew onward. Every now and then it\ngave a jump, as if they were going over hedges and ditches. The boy was\nfrightened and tried to say a prayer, but he could remember nothing but\nthe multiplication table.\n\nThe snowflakes became larger and larger, till they appeared like great\nwhite birds. All at once they sprang on one side, the great sledge\nstopped, and the person who had driven it rose up. The fur and the cap,\nwhich were made entirely of snow, fell off, and he saw a lady, tall and\nwhite; it was the Snow Queen.\n\n\"We have driven well,\" said she; \"but why do you tremble so? Here, creep\ninto my warm fur.\" Then she seated him beside her in the sledge, and as\nshe wrapped the fur about him, he felt as if he were sinking into a\nsnowdrift.\n\n\"Are you still cold?\" she asked, as she kissed him on the forehead. The\nkiss was colder than ice; it went quite through to his heart, which was\nalmost a lump of ice already. He felt as if he were going to die, but\nonly for a moment--he soon seemed quite well and did not notice the cold\nall around him.\n\n\"My sledge! Don't forget my sledge,\" was his first thought, and then he\nlooked and saw that it was bound fast to one of the white birds which\nflew behind him. The Snow Queen kissed little Kay again, and by this\ntime he had forgotten little Gerda, his grandmother, and all at home.\n\n\"Now you must have no more kisses,\" she said, \"or I should kiss you to\ndeath.\"\n\nKay looked at her. She was so beautiful, he could not imagine a more\nlovely face; she did not now seem to be made of ice as when he had seen\nher through his window and she had nodded to him.\n\nIn his eyes she was perfect, and he did not feel at all afraid. He told\nher he could do mental arithmetic as far as fractions, and that he knew\nthe number of square miles and the number of inhabitants in the country.\nShe smiled, and it occurred to him that she thought he did not yet know\nso very much.\n\nHe looked around the vast expanse as she flew higher and higher with him\nupon a black cloud, while the storm blew and howled as if it were\nsinging songs of olden time. They flew over woods and lakes, over sea\nand land; below them roared the wild wind; wolves howled, and the snow\ncrackled; over them flew the black, screaming crows, and above all shone\nthe moon, clear and bright--and so Kay passed through the long, long\nwinter's night, and by day he slept at the feet of the Snow Queen.\n\n\nTHIRD STORY\n\nTHE ENCHANTED FLOWER GARDEN\n\nBut how fared little Gerda in Kay's absence?\n\nWhat had become of him no one knew, nor could any one give the slightest\ninformation, excepting the boys, who said that he had tied his sledge to\nanother very large one, which had driven through the street and out at\nthe town gate. No one knew where it went. Many tears were shed for him,\nand little Gerda wept bitterly for a long time. She said she knew he\nmust be dead, that he was drowned in the river which flowed close by\nthe school. The long winter days were very dreary. But at last spring\ncame with warm sunshine.\n\n\"Kay is dead and gone,\" said little Gerda.\n\n\"I don't believe it,\" said the sunshine.\n\n\"He is dead and gone,\" she said to the sparrows.\n\n\"We don't believe it,\" they replied, and at last little Gerda began to\ndoubt it herself.\n\n\"I will put on my new red shoes,\" she said one morning, \"those that Kay\nhas never seen, and then I will go down to the river and ask for him.\"\n\nIt was quite early when she kissed her old grandmother, who was still\nasleep; then she put on her red shoes and went, quite alone, out of the\ntown gate, toward the river.\n\n\"Is it true that you have taken my little playmate away from me?\" she\nsaid to the river. \"I will give you my red shoes if you will give him\nback to me.\"\n\nAnd it seemed as if the waves nodded to her in a strange manner. Then\nshe took off her red shoes, which she liked better than anything else,\nand threw them both into the river, but they fell near the bank, and\nthe little waves carried them back to land just as if the river would\nnot take from her what she loved best, because it could not give her\nback little Kay.\n\nBut she thought the shoes had not been thrown out far enough. Then she\ncrept into a boat that lay among the reeds, and threw the shoes again\nfrom the farther end of the boat into the water; but it was not\nfastened, and her movement sent it gliding away from the land. When she\nsaw this she hastened to reach the end of the boat, but before she could\ndo so it was more than a yard from the bank and drifting away faster\nthan ever.\n\nLittle Gerda was very much frightened. She began to cry, but no one\nheard her except the sparrows, and they could not carry her to land, but\nthey flew along by the shore and sang as if to comfort her: \"Here we\nare! Here we are!\"\n\nThe boat floated with the stream, and little Gerda sat quite still with\nonly her stockings on her feet; the red shoes floated after her, but she\ncould not reach them because the boat kept so much in advance.\n\n[Illustration: There came a very old woman out of the house]\n\nThe banks on either side of the river were very pretty. There were\nbeautiful flowers, old trees, sloping fields in which cows and sheep\nwere grazing, but not a human being to be seen.\n\n\"Perhaps the river will carry me to little Kay,\" thought Gerda, and then\nshe became more cheerful, and raised her head and looked at the\nbeautiful green banks; and so the boat sailed on for hours. At length\nshe came to a large cherry orchard, in which stood a small house with\nstrange red and blue windows. It had also a thatched roof, and outside\nwere two wooden soldiers that presented arms to her as she sailed past.\nGerda called out to them, for she thought they were alive; but of course\nthey did not answer, and as the boat drifted nearer to the shore she saw\nwhat they really were.\n\nThen Gerda called still louder, and there came a very old woman out of\nthe house, leaning on a crutch. She wore a large hat to shade her from\nthe sun, and on it were painted all sorts of pretty flowers.\n\n\"You poor little child,\" said the old woman, \"how did you manage to come\nthis long, long distance into the wide world on such a rapid, rolling\nstream?\" And then the old woman walked into the water, seized the boat\nwith her crutch, drew it to land, and lifted little Gerda out. And Gerda\nwas glad to feel herself again on dry ground, although she was rather\nafraid of the strange old woman.\n\n\"Come and tell me who you are,\" said she, \"and how you came here.\"\n\nThen Gerda told her everything, while the old woman shook her head and\nsaid, \"Hem-hem\"; and when Gerda had finished she asked the old woman if\nshe had not seen little Kay. She told her he had not passed that way,\nbut he very likely would come. She told Gerda not to be sorrowful, but\nto taste the cherries and look at the flowers; they were better than any\npicture book, for each of them could tell a story. Then she took Gerda\nby the hand, and led her into the little house, and closed the door. The\nwindows were very high, and as the panes were red, blue, and yellow, the\ndaylight shone through them in all sorts of singular colors. On the\ntable stood some beautiful cherries, and Gerda had permission to eat as\nmany as she would. While she was eating them the old woman combed out\nher long flaxen ringlets with a golden comb, and the glossy curls hung\ndown on each side of the little round, pleasant face, which looked fresh\nand blooming as a rose.\n\n\"I have long been wishing for a dear little maiden like you,\" said the\nold woman, \"and now you must stay with me and see how happily we shall\nlive together.\" And while she went on combing little Gerda's hair the\nchild thought less and less about her adopted brother Kay, for the old\nwoman was an enchantress, although she was not a wicked witch; she\nconjured only a little for her own amusement, and, now, because she\nwanted to keep Gerda. Therefore she went into the garden and stretched\nout her crutch toward all the rose trees, beautiful though they were,\nand they immediately sank into the dark earth, so that no one could tell\nwhere they had once stood. The old woman was afraid that if little Gerda\nsaw roses, she would think of those at home and then remember little Kay\nand run away.\n\nThen she took Gerda into the flower garden. How fragrant and beautiful\nit was! Every flower that could be thought of, for every season of the\nyear, was here in full bloom; no picture book could have more beautiful\ncolors. Gerda jumped for joy, and played till the sun went down behind\nthe tall cherry trees; then she slept in an elegant bed, with red silk\npillows embroidered with colored violets, and she dreamed as pleasantly\nas a queen on her wedding day.\n\nThe next day, and for many days after, Gerda played with the flowers in\nthe warm sunshine. She knew every flower, and yet, although there were\nso many of them, it seemed as if one were missing, but what it was she\ncould not tell. One day, however, as she sat looking at the old woman's\nhat with the painted flowers on it, she saw that the prettiest of them\nall was a rose. The old woman had forgotten to take it from her hat when\nshe made all the roses sink into the earth. But it is difficult to keep\nthe thoughts together in everything, and one little mistake upsets all\nour arrangements.\n\n\"What! are there no roses here?\" cried Gerda, and she ran out into the\ngarden and examined all the beds, and searched and searched. There was\nnot one to be found. Then she sat down and wept, and her tears fell just\non the place where one of the rose trees had sunk down. The warm tears\nmoistened the earth, and the rose tree sprouted up at once, as blooming\nas when it had sunk; and Gerda embraced it, and kissed the roses, and\nthought of the beautiful roses at home, and, with them, of little Kay.\n\n\"Oh, how I have been detained!\" said the little maiden. \"I wanted to\nseek for little Kay. Do you know where he is?\" she asked the roses; \"do\nyou think he is dead?\"\n\nAnd the roses answered: \"No, he is not dead. We have been in the ground,\nwhere all the dead lie, but Kay is not there.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" said little Gerda, and then she went to the other flowers\nand looked into their little cups and asked, \"Do you know where little\nKay is?\" But each flower as it stood in the sunshine dreamed only of its\nown little fairy tale or history. Not one knew anything of Kay. Gerda\nheard many stories from the flowers, as she asked them one after another\nabout him.\n\nAnd then she ran to the other end of the garden. The door was fastened,\nbut she pressed against the rusty latch, and it gave way. The door\nsprang open, and little Gerda ran out with bare feet into the wide\nworld. She looked back three times, but no one seemed to be following\nher. At last she could run no longer, so she sat down to rest on a great\nstone, and when she looked around she saw that the summer was over and\nautumn very far advanced. She had known nothing of this in the beautiful\ngarden where the sun shone and the flowers grew all the year round.\n\n\"Oh, how I have wasted my time!\" said little Gerda. \"It is autumn; I\nmust not rest any longer,\" and she rose to go on. But her little feet\nwere wounded and sore, and everything around her looked cold and bleak.\nThe long willow leaves were quite yellow, the dewdrops fell like water,\nleaf after leaf dropped from the trees; the sloe thorn alone still bore\nfruit, but the sloes were sour and set the teeth on edge. Oh, how dark\nand weary the whole world appeared!\n\n\nFOURTH STORY\n\nTHE PRINCE AND PRINCESS\n\nGerda was obliged to rest again, and just opposite the place where she\nsat she saw a great crow come hopping toward her across the snow. He\nstood looking at her for some time, and then he wagged his head and\nsaid, \"Caw, caw, good day, good day.\" He pronounced the words as plainly\nas he could, because he meant to be kind to the little girl, and then he\nasked her where she was going all alone in the wide world.\n\nThe word \"alone\" Gerda understood very well and felt how much it\nexpressed. So she told the crow the whole story of her life and\nadventures and asked him if he had seen little Kay.\n\nThe crow nodded his head very gravely and said, \"Perhaps I have--it may\nbe.\"\n\n\"No! Do you really think you have?\" cried little Gerda, and she kissed\nthe crow and hugged him almost to death, with joy.\n\n\"Gently, gently,\" said the crow. \"I believe I know. I think it may be\nlittle Kay; but he has certainly forgotten you by this time, for the\nprincess.\"\n\n\"Does he live with a princess?\" asked Gerda.\n\n\"Yes, listen,\" replied the crow; \"but it is so difficult to speak your\nlanguage. If you understand the crows' language, then I can explain it\nbetter. Do you?\"\n\n\"No, I have never learned it,\" said Gerda, \"but my grandmother\nunderstands it, and used to speak it to me. I wish I had learned it.\"\n\n\"It does not matter,\" answered the crow. \"I will explain as well as I\ncan, although it will be very badly done\"; and he told her what he had\nheard.\n\n\"In this kingdom where we now are,\" said he, \"there lives a princess who\nis so wonderfully clever that she has read all the newspapers in the\nworld--and forgotten them too, although she is so clever.\n\n\"A short time ago, as she was sitting on her throne, which people say is\nnot such an agreeable seat as is often supposed, she began to sing a\nsong which commences with these words:\n\n          Why should I not be married?\n\n'Why not, indeed?' said she, and so she determined to marry if she could\nfind a husband who knew what to say when he was spoken to, and not one\nwho could only look grand, for that was so tiresome. She assembled all\nher court ladies at the beat of the drum, and when they heard of her\nintentions they were very much pleased.\n\n\"'We are so glad to hear of it,' said they. 'We were talking about it\nourselves the other day.'\n\n\"You may believe that every word I tell you is true,\" said the crow,\n\"for I have a tame sweetheart who hops freely about the palace, and she\ntold me all this.\"\n\nOf course his sweetheart was a crow, for \"birds of a feather flock\ntogether,\" and one crow always chooses another crow.\n\n\"Newspapers were published immediately with a border of hearts and the\ninitials of the princess among them. They gave notice that every young\nman who was handsome was free to visit the castle and speak with the\nprincess, and those who could reply loud enough to be heard when spoken\nto were to make themselves quite at home at the palace, and the one who\nspoke best would be chosen as a husband for the princess.\n\n\"Yes, yes, you may believe me. It is all as true as I sit here,\" said\nthe crow.\n\n\"The people came in crowds. There was a great deal of crushing and\nrunning about, but no one succeeded either on the first or the second\nday. They could all speak very well while they were outside in the\nstreets, but when they entered the palace gates and saw the guards in\nsilver uniforms and the footmen in their golden livery on the staircase\nand the great halls lighted up, they became quite confused. And when\nthey stood before the throne on which the princess sat they could do\nnothing but repeat the last words she had said, and she had no\nparticular wish to hear her own words over again. It was just as if they\nhad all taken something to make them sleepy while they were in the\npalace, for they did not recover themselves nor speak till they got back\nagain into the street. There was a long procession of them, reaching\nfrom the town gate to the palace.\n\n\"I went myself to see them,\" said the crow. \"They were hungry and\nthirsty, for at the palace they did not even get a glass of water. Some\nof the wisest had taken a few slices of bread and butter with them, but\nthey did not share it with their neighbors; they thought if the others\nwent in to the princess looking hungry, there would be a better chance\nfor themselves.\"\n\n\"But Kay! tell me about little Kay!\" said Gerda. \"Was he among the\ncrowd?\"\n\n\"Stop a bit; we are just coming to him. It was on the third day that\nthere came marching cheerfully along to the palace a little personage\nwithout horses or carriage, his eyes sparkling like yours. He had\nbeautiful long hair, but his clothes were very poor.\"\n\n\"That was Kay,\" said Gerda, joyfully. \"Oh, then I have found him!\" and\nshe clapped her hands.\n\n\"He had a little knapsack on his back,\" added the crow.\n\n\"No, it must have been his sledge,\" said Gerda, \"for he went away with\nit.\"\n\n\"It may have been so,\" said the crow; \"I did not look at it very\nclosely. But I know from my tame sweetheart that he passed through the\npalace gates, saw the guards in their silver uniform and the servants in\ntheir liveries of gold on the stairs, but was not in the least\nembarrassed.\n\n\"'It must be very tiresome to stand on the stairs,' he said. 'I prefer\nto go in.'\n\n\"The rooms were blazing with light; councilors and ambassadors walked\nabout with bare feet, carrying golden vessels; it was enough to make any\none feel serious. His boots creaked loudly as he walked, and yet he was\nnot at all uneasy.\"\n\n\"It must be Kay,\" said Gerda; \"I know he had new boots on. I heard them\ncreak in grandmother's room.\"\n\n\"They really did creak,\" said the crow, \"yet he went boldly up to the\nprincess herself, who was sitting on a pearl as large as a spinning\nwheel. And all the ladies of the court were present with their maids and\nall the cavaliers with their servants, and each of the maids had another\nmaid to wait upon her, and the cavaliers' servants had their own\nservants as well as each a page. They all stood in circles round the\nprincess, and the nearer they stood to the door the prouder they looked.\nThe servants' pages, who always wore slippers, could hardly be looked\nat, they held themselves up so proudly by the door.\"\n\n\"It must be quite awful,\" said little Gerda; \"but did Kay win the\nprincess?\"\n\n\"If I had not been a crow,\" said he, \"I would have married her myself,\nalthough I am engaged. He spoke as well as I do when I speak the crows'\nlanguage. I heard this from my tame sweetheart. He was quite free and\nagreeable and said he had not come to woo the princess, but to hear her\nwisdom. And he was as pleased with her as she was with him.\"\n\n\"Oh, certainly that was Kay,\" said Gerda; \"he was so clever; he could\nwork mental arithmetic and fractions. Oh, will you take me to the\npalace?\"\n\n\"It is very easy to ask that,\" replied the crow, \"but how are we to\nmanage it? However, I will speak about it to my tame sweetheart and ask\nher advice, for, I must tell you, it will be very difficult to gain\npermission for a little girl like you to enter the palace.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, but I shall gain permission easily,\" said Gerda, \"for when Kay\nhears that I am here he will come out and fetch me in immediately.\"\n\n\"Wait for me here by the palings,\" said the crow, wagging his head as he\nflew away.\n\nIt was late in the evening before the crow returned. \"Caw, caw!\" he\nsaid; \"she sends you greeting, and here is a little roll which she took\nfrom the kitchen for you. There is plenty of bread there, and she thinks\nyou must be hungry. It is not possible for you to enter the palace by\nthe front entrance. The guards in silver uniform and the servants in\ngold livery would not allow it. But do not cry; we will manage to get\nyou in. My sweetheart knows a little back staircase that leads to the\nsleeping apartments, and she knows where to find the key.\"\n\nThen they went into the garden, through the great avenue, where the\nleaves were falling one after another, and they could see the lights in\nthe palace being put out in the same manner. And the crow led little\nGerda to a back door which stood ajar. Oh! how her heart beat with\nanxiety and longing; it was as if she were going to do something wrong,\nand yet she only wanted to know where little Kay was.\n\n\"It must be he,\" she thought, \"with those clear eyes and that long\nhair.\"\n\nShe could fancy she saw him smiling at her as he used to at home when\nthey sat among the roses. He would certainly be glad to see her, and to\nhear what a long distance she had come for his sake, and to know how\nsorry they had all been at home because he did not come back. Oh, what\njoy and yet what fear she felt!\n\nThey were now on the stairs, and in a small closet at the top a lamp was\nburning. In the middle of the floor stood the tame crow, turning her\nhead from side to side and gazing at Gerda, who curtsied as her\ngrandmother had taught her to do.\n\n\"My betrothed has spoken so very highly of you, my little lady,\" said\nthe tame crow. \"Your story is very touching. If you will take the lamp,\nI will walk before you. We will go straight along this way; then we\nshall meet no one.\"\n\n\"I feel as if somebody were behind us,\" said Gerda, as something rushed\nby her like a shadow on the wall; and then it seemed to her that horses\nwith flying manes and thin legs, hunters, ladies and gentlemen on\nhorseback, glided by her like shadows.\n\n\"They are only dreams,\" said the crow; \"they are coming to carry the\nthoughts of the great people out hunting. All the better, for if their\nthoughts are out hunting, we shall be able to look at them in their beds\nmore safely. I hope that when you rise to honor and favor you will show\na grateful heart.\"\n\n\"You may be quite sure of that,\" said the crow from the forest.\n\nThey now came into the first hall, the walls of which were hung with\nrose-colored satin embroidered with artificial flowers. Here the dreams\nagain flitted by them, but so quickly that Gerda could not distinguish\nthe royal persons. Each hall appeared more splendid than the last. It\nwas enough to bewilder one. At length they reached a bedroom. The\nceiling was like a great palm tree, with glass leaves of the most costly\ncrystal, and over the center of the floor two beds, each resembling a\nlily, hung from a stem of gold. One, in which the princess lay, was\nwhite; the other was red. And in this Gerda had to seek for little Kay.\n\nShe pushed one of the red leaves aside and saw a little brown neck. Oh,\nthat must be Kay! She called his name loudly and held the lamp over him.\nThe dreams rushed back into the room on horseback. He woke and turned\nhis head round--it was not little Kay! The prince was only like him;\nstill he was young and pretty. Out of her white-lily bed peeped the\nprincess, and asked what was the matter. Little Gerda wept and told her\nstory, and all that the crows had done to help her.\n\n\"You poor child,\" said the prince and princess; then they praised the\ncrows, and said they were not angry with them for what they had done,\nbut that it must not happen again, and that this time they should be\nrewarded.\n\n\"Would you like to have your freedom?\" asked the princess, \"or would you\nprefer to be raised to the position of court crows, with all that is\nleft in the kitchen for yourselves?\"\n\nThen both the crows bowed and begged to have a fixed appointment; for\nthey thought of their old age, and it would be so comfortable, they\nsaid, to feel that they had made provision for it.\n\n[Illustration: The prince and princess themselves helped her into the\ncoach.]\n\nAnd then the prince got out of his bed and gave it up to Gerda--he could\nnot do more--and she lay down. She folded her little hands and thought,\n\"How good everybody is to me, both men and animals\"; then she closed\nher eyes and fell into a sweet sleep. All the dreams came flying back\nagain to her, looking like angels now, and one of them drew a little\nsledge, on which sat Kay, who nodded to her. But all this was only a\ndream. It vanished as soon as she awoke.\n\nThe following day she was dressed from head to foot in silk and velvet\nand invited to stay at the palace for a few days and enjoy herself; but\nshe only begged for a pair of boots and a little carriage and a horse to\ndraw it, so that she might go out into the wide world to seek for Kay.\n\nAnd she obtained not only boots but a muff, and was neatly dressed; and\nwhen she was ready to go, there at the door she found a coach made of\npure gold with the coat of arms of the prince and princess shining upon\nit like a star, and the coachman, footman, and outriders all wearing\ngolden crowns upon their heads. The prince and princess themselves\nhelped her into the coach and wished her success.\n\nThe forest crow, who was now married, accompanied her for the first\nthree miles; he sat by Gerda's side, as he could not bear riding\nbackwards. The tame crow stood in the doorway flapping her wings. She\ncould not go with them, because she had been suffering from headache\never since the new appointment, no doubt from overeating. The coach was\nwell stored with sweet cakes, and under the seat were fruit and\ngingerbread nuts.\n\n\"Farewell, farewell,\" cried the prince and princess, and little Gerda\nwept, and the crow wept; and then, after a few miles, the crow also said\nfarewell, and this parting was even more sad. However he flew to a tree\nand stood flapping his black wings as long as he could see the coach,\nwhich glittered like a sunbeam.\n\n\nFIFTH STORY\n\nTHE LITTLE ROBBER GIRL\n\nThe coach drove on through a thick forest, where it lighted up the way\nlike a torch and dazzled the eyes of some robbers, who could not bear to\nlet it pass them unmolested.\n\n\"It is gold! it is gold!\" cried they, rushing forward and seizing the\nhorses. Then they struck dead the little jockeys, the coachman, and the\nfootman, and pulled little Gerda out of the carriage.\n\n\"She is plump and pretty. She has been fed with the kernels of nuts,\"\nsaid the old robber woman, who had a long beard, and eyebrows that hung\nover her eyes. \"She is as good as a fatted lamb; how nice she will\ntaste!\" and as she said this she drew forth a shining knife, that\nglittered horribly. \"Oh!\" screamed the old woman at the same moment, for\nher own daughter, who held her back, had bitten her in the ear. \"You\nnaughty girl,\" said the mother, and now she had not time to kill Gerda.\n\n\"She shall play with me,\" said the little robber girl. \"She shall give\nme her muff and her pretty dress, and sleep with me in my bed.\" And then\nshe bit her mother again, and all the robbers laughed.\n\n\"I will have a ride in the coach,\" said the little robber girl, and she\nwould have her own way, for she was self-willed and obstinate.\n\nShe and Gerda seated themselves in the coach and drove away over stumps\nand stones, into the depths of the forest. The little robber girl was\nabout the same size as Gerda, but stronger; she had broader shoulders\nand a darker skin; her eyes were quite black, and she had a mournful\nlook. She clasped little Gerda round the waist and said:\n\n\"They shall not kill you as long as you don't make me vexed with you. I\nsuppose you are a princess.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Gerda; and then she told her all her history and how fond she\nwas of little Kay.\n\nThe robber girl looked earnestly at her, nodded her head slightly, and\nsaid, \"They shan't kill you even if I do get angry with you, for I will\ndo it myself.\" And then she wiped Gerda's eyes and put her own hands\ninto the beautiful muff, which was so soft and warm.\n\nThe coach stopped in the courtyard of a robber's castle, the walls of\nwhich were full of cracks from top to bottom. Ravens and crows flew in\nand out of the holes and crevices, while great bulldogs, each of which\nlooked as if it could swallow a man, were jumping about; but they were\nnot allowed to bark.\n\nIn the large old smoky hall a bright fire was burning on the stone\nfloor. There was no chimney, so the smoke went up to the ceiling and\nfound a way out for itself. Soup was boiling in a large cauldron, and\nhares and rabbits were roasting on the spit.\n\n\"You shall sleep with me and all my little animals to-night,\" said the\nrobber girl after they had had something to eat and drink. So she took\nGerda to a corner of the hall where some straw and carpets were laid\ndown. Above them, on laths and perches, were more than a hundred pigeons\nthat all seemed to be asleep, although they moved slightly when the two\nlittle girls came near them. \"These all belong to me,\" said the robber\ngirl, and she seized the nearest to her, held it by the feet, and shook\nit till it flapped its wings. \"Kiss it,\" cried she, flapping it in\nGerda's face.\n\n\"There sit the wood pigeons,\" continued she, pointing to a number of\nlaths and a cage which had been fixed into the walls, near one of the\nopenings. \"Both rascals would fly away directly, if they were not\nclosely locked up. And here is my old sweetheart 'Ba,'\" and she dragged\nout a reindeer by the horn; he wore a bright copper ring round his neck\nand was tethered to the spot. \"We are obliged to hold him tight too,\nelse he would run away from us also. I tickle his neck every evening\nwith my sharp knife, which frightens him very much.\" And the robber girl\ndrew a long knife from a chink in the wall and let it slide gently over\nthe reindeer's neck. The poor animal began to kick, and the little\nrobber girl laughed and pulled down Gerda into bed with her.\n\n\"Will you have that knife with you while you are asleep?\" asked Gerda,\nlooking at it in great fright.\n\n\"I always sleep with the knife by me,\" said the robber girl. \"No one\nknows what may happen. But now tell me again all about little Kay, and\nwhy you went out into the world.\"\n\nThen Gerda repeated her story over again, while the wood pigeons in the\ncage over her cooed, and the other pigeons slept. The little robber girl\nput one arm across Gerda's neck, and held the knife in the other, and\nwas soon fast asleep and snoring. But Gerda could not close her eyes at\nall; she knew not whether she was to live or to die. The robbers sat\nround the fire, singing and drinking. It was a terrible sight for a\nlittle girl to witness.\n\nThen the wood pigeons said: \"Coo, coo, we have seen little Kay. A white\nfowl carried his sledge, and he sat in the carriage of the Snow Queen,\nwhich drove through the wood while we were lying in our nest. She blew\nupon us, and all the young ones died, excepting us two. Coo, coo.\"\n\n\"What are you saying up there?\" cried Gerda. \"Where was the Snow Queen\ngoing? Do you know anything about it?\"\n\n\"She was most likely traveling to Lapland, where there is always snow\nand ice. Ask the reindeer that is fastened up there with a rope.\"\n\n\"Yes, there is always snow and ice,\" said the reindeer, \"and it is a\nglorious place; you can leap and run about freely on the sparkling icy\nplains. The Snow Queen has her summer tent there, but her strong castle\nis at the North Pole, on an island called Spitzbergen.\"\n\n\"O Kay, little Kay!\" sighed Gerda.\n\n\"Lie still,\" said the robber girl, \"or you shall feel my knife.\"\n\nIn the morning Gerda told her all that the wood pigeons had said, and\nthe little robber girl looked quite serious, and nodded her head and\nsaid: \"That is all talk, that is all talk. Do you know where Lapland\nis?\" she asked the reindeer.\n\n\"Who should know better than I do?\" said the animal, while his eyes\nsparkled. \"I was born and brought up there and used to run about the\nsnow-covered plains.\"\n\n\"Now listen,\" said the robber girl; \"all our men are gone away; only\nmother is here, and here she will stay; but at noon she always drinks\nout of a great bottle, and afterwards sleeps for a little while; and\nthen I'll do something for you.\" She jumped out of bed, clasped her\nmother round the neck, and pulled her by the beard, crying, \"My own\nlittle nanny goat, good morning!\" And her mother pinched her nose till\nit was quite red; yet she did it all for love.\n\nWhen the mother had gone to sleep the little robber maiden went to the\nreindeer and said: \"I should like very much to tickle your neck a few\ntimes more with my knife, for it makes you look so funny, but never\nmind--I will untie your cord and set you free, so that you may run away\nto Lapland; but you must make good use of your legs and carry this\nlittle maiden to the castle of the Snow Queen, where her playfellow is.\nYou have heard what she told me, for she spoke loud enough, and you were\nlistening.\"\n\nThe reindeer jumped for joy, and the little robber girl lifted Gerda on\nhis back and had the forethought to tie her on and even to give her her\nown little cushion to sit upon.\n\n\"Here are your fur boots for you,\" said she, \"for it will be very cold;\nbut I must keep the muff, it is so pretty. However, you shall not be\nfrozen for the want of it; here are my mother's large warm mittens; they\nwill reach up to your elbows. Let me put them on. There, now your hands\nlook just like my mother's.\"\n\nBut Gerda wept for joy.\n\n\"I don't like to see you fret,\" said the little robber girl. \"You ought\nto look quite happy now. And here are two loaves and a ham, so that you\nneed not starve.\"\n\nThese were fastened upon the reindeer, and then the little robber maiden\nopened the door, coaxed in all the great dogs, cut the string with\nwhich the reindeer was fastened, with her sharp knife, and said, \"Now\nrun, but mind you take good care of the little girl.\" And Gerda\nstretched out her hand, with the great mitten on it, toward the little\nrobber girl and said \"Farewell,\" and away flew the reindeer over stumps\nand stones, through the great forest, over marshes and plains, as\nquickly as he could. The wolves howled and the ravens screamed, while up\nin the sky quivered red lights like flames of fire. \"There are my old\nnorthern lights,\" said the reindeer; \"see how they flash!\" And he ran on\nday and night still faster and faster, but the loaves and the ham were\nall eaten by the time they reached Lapland.\n\n\nSIXTH STORY\n\nTHE LAPLAND WOMAN AND THE FINLAND WOMAN\n\nThey stopped at a little hut; it was very mean looking. The roof sloped\nnearly down to the ground, and the door was so low that the family had\nto creep in on their hands and knees when they went in and out. There\nwas no one at home but an old Lapland woman who was dressing fish by the\nlight of a train-oil lamp.\n\nThe reindeer told her all about Gerda's story after having first told\nhis own, which seemed to him the most important. But Gerda was so\npinched with the cold that she could not speak.\n\n\"Oh, you poor things,\" said the Lapland woman, \"you have a long way to\ngo yet. You must travel more than a hundred miles farther, to Finland.\nThe Snow Queen lives there now, and she burns Bengal lights every\nevening. I will write a few words on a dried stockfish, for I have no\npaper, and you can take it from me to the Finland woman who lives there.\nShe can give you better information than I can.\"\n\nSo when Gerda was warmed and had taken something to eat and drink, the\nwoman wrote a few words on the dried fish and told Gerda to take great\ncare of it. Then she tied her again on the back of the reindeer, and he\nsprang high into the air and set off at full speed. Flash, flash, went\nthe beautiful blue northern lights the whole night long.\n\nAnd at length they reached Finland and knocked at the chimney of the\nFinland woman's hut, for it had no door above the ground. They crept in,\nbut it was so terribly hot inside that the woman wore scarcely any\nclothes. She was small and very dirty looking. She loosened little\nGerda's dress and took off the fur boots and the mittens, or Gerda would\nhave been unable to bear the heat; and then she placed a piece of ice on\nthe reindeer's head and read what was written on the dried fish. After\nshe had read it three times she knew it by heart, so she popped the fish\ninto the soup saucepan, as she knew it was good to eat, and she never\nwasted anything.\n\nThe reindeer told his own story first and then little Gerda's, and the\nFinlander twinkled with her clever eyes, but said nothing.\n\n\"You are so clever,\" said the reindeer; \"I know you can tie all the\nwinds of the world with a piece of twine. If a sailor unties one knot,\nhe has a fair wind; when he unties the second, it blows hard; but if the\nthird and fourth are loosened, then comes a storm which will root up\nwhole forests. Cannot you give this little maiden something which will\nmake her as strong as twelve men, to overcome the Snow Queen?\"\n\n\"The power of twelve men!\" said the Finland woman. \"That would be of\nvery little use.\" But she went to a shelf and took down and unrolled a\nlarge skin on which were inscribed wonderful characters, and she read\ntill the perspiration ran down from her forehead.\n\nBut the reindeer begged so hard for little Gerda, and Gerda looked at\nthe Finland woman with such tender, tearful eyes, that her own eyes\nbegan to twinkle again. She drew the reindeer into a corner and\nwhispered to him while she laid a fresh piece of ice on his head:\n\"Little Kay is really with the Snow Queen, but he finds everything there\nso much to his taste and his liking that he believes it is the finest\nplace in the world; and this is because he has a piece of broken glass\nin his heart and a little splinter of glass in his eye. These must be\ntaken out, or he will never be a human being again, and the Snow Queen\nwill retain her power over him.\"\n\n\"But can you not give little Gerda something to help her to conquer this\npower?\"\n\n\"I can give her no greater power than she has already,\" said the woman;\n\"don't you see how strong that is? how men and animals are obliged to\nserve her, and how well she has gotten through the world, barefooted as\nshe is? She cannot receive any power from me greater than she now has,\nwhich consists in her own purity and innocence of heart. If she cannot\nherself obtain access to the Snow Queen and remove the glass fragments\nfrom little Kay, we can do nothing to help her. Two miles from here the\nSnow Queen's garden begins. You can carry the little girl so far, and\nset her down by the large bush which stands in the snow, covered with\nred berries. Do not stay gossiping, but come back here as quickly as you\ncan.\" Then the Finland woman lifted little Gerda upon the reindeer, and\nhe ran away with her as quickly as he could.\n\n\"Oh, I have forgotten my boots and my mittens,\" cried little Gerda, as\nsoon as she felt the cutting cold; but the reindeer dared not stop, so\nhe ran on till he reached the bush with the red berries. Here he set\nGerda down, and he kissed her, and the great bright tears trickled over\nthe animal's cheeks; then he left her and ran back as fast as he could.\n\nThere stood poor Gerda, without shoes, without gloves, in the midst of\ncold, dreary, ice-bound Finland. She ran forward as quickly as she\ncould, when a whole regiment of snowflakes came round her. They did not,\nhowever, fall from the sky, which was quite clear and glittered with the\nnorthern lights. The snowflakes ran along the ground, and the nearer\nthey came to her the larger they appeared. Gerda remembered how large\nand beautiful they looked through the burning glass. But these were\nreally larger and much more terrible, for they were alive and were the\nguards of the Snow Queen and had the strangest shapes. Some were like\ngreat porcupines, others like twisted serpents with their heads\nstretching out, and some few were like little fat bears with their hair\nbristled; but all were dazzlingly white, and all were living snowflakes.\n\nLittle Gerda repeated the Lord's Prayer, and the cold was so great that\nshe could see her own breath come out of her mouth like steam, as she\nuttered the words. The steam appeared to increase as she continued her\nprayer, till it took the shape of little angels, who grew larger the\nmoment they touched the earth. They all wore helmets on their heads and\ncarried spears and shields. Their number continued to increase more and\nmore, and by the time Gerda had finished her prayers a whole legion\nstood round her. They thrust their spears into the terrible snowflakes\nso that they shivered into a hundred pieces, and little Gerda could go\nforward with courage and safety. The angels stroked her hands and feet,\nso that she felt the cold less as she hastened on to the Snow Queen's\ncastle.\n\nBut now we must see what Kay is doing. In truth he thought not of little\nGerda, and least of all that she could be standing at the front of the\npalace.\n\n\nSEVENTH STORY\n\nOF THE PALACE OF THE SNOW QUEEN AND WHAT HAPPENED THERE AT LAST\n\nThe walls of the palace were formed of drifted snow, and the windows and\ndoors of cutting winds. There were more than a hundred rooms in it, all\nas if they had been formed of snow blown together. The largest of them\nextended for several miles. They were all lighted up by the vivid light\nof the aurora, and were so large and empty, so icy cold and glittering!\n\nThere were no amusements here; not even a little bear's ball, when the\nstorm might have been the music, and the bears could have danced on\ntheir hind legs and shown their good manners. There were no pleasant\ngames of snapdragon, or touch, nor even a gossip over the tea table for\nthe young-lady foxes. Empty, vast, and cold were the halls of the Snow\nQueen.\n\nThe flickering flames of the northern lights could be plainly seen,\nwhether they rose high or low in the heavens, from every part of the\ncastle. In the midst of this empty, endless hall of snow was a frozen\nlake, broken on its surface into a thousand forms; each piece resembled\nanother, because each was in itself perfect as a work of art, and in the\ncenter of this lake sat the Snow Queen when she was at home. She called\nthe lake \"The Mirror of Reason,\" and said that it was the best, and\nindeed the only one, in the world.\n\n[Illustration: In the center of the lake sat the Snow Queen]\n\nLittle Kay was quite blue with cold,--indeed, almost black,--but he did\nnot feel it; for the Snow Queen had kissed away the icy shiverings, and\nhis heart was already a lump of ice. He dragged some sharp, flat pieces\nof ice to and fro and placed them together in all kinds of positions, as\nif he wished to make something out of them--just as we try to form\nvarious figures with little tablets of wood, which we call a \"Chinese\npuzzle.\" Kay's figures were very artistic; it was the icy game of reason\nat which he played, and in his eyes the figures were very remarkable and\nof the highest importance; this opinion was owing to the splinter of\nglass still sticking in his eye. He composed many complete figures,\nforming different words, but there was one word he never could manage to\nform, although he wished it very much. It was the word \"Eternity.\"\n\nThe Snow Queen had said to him, \"When you can find out this, you shall\nbe your own master, and I will give you the whole world and a new pair\nof skates.\" But he could not accomplish it.\n\n\"Now I must hasten away to warmer countries,\" said the Snow Queen. \"I\nwill go and look into the black craters of the tops of the burning\nmountains, Etna and Vesuvius, as they are called. I shall make them look\nwhite, which will be good for them and for the lemons and the grapes.\"\nAnd away flew the Snow Queen, leaving little Kay quite alone in the\ngreat hall which was so many miles in length. He sat and looked at his\npieces of ice and was thinking so deeply and sat so still that any one\nmight have supposed he was frozen.\n\nJust at this moment it happened that little Gerda came through the great\ndoor of the castle. Cutting winds were raging around her, but she\noffered up a prayer, and the winds sank down as if they were going to\nsleep. On she went till she came to the large, empty hall and caught\nsight of Kay. She knew him directly; she flew to him and threw her arms\naround his neck and held him fast while she exclaimed, \"Kay, dear little\nKay, I have found you at last!\"\n\nBut he sat quite still, stiff and cold.\n\nThen little Gerda wept hot tears, which fell on his breast, and\npenetrated into his heart, and thawed the lump of ice, and washed away\nthe little piece of glass which had stuck there. Then he looked at her,\nand she sang:\n\n          \"Roses bloom and fade away,\n           But we the Christ-child see alway.\"\n\nThen Kay burst into tears. He wept so that the splinter of glass swam\nout of his eye. Then he recognized Gerda and said joyfully, \"Gerda, dear\nlittle Gerda, where have you been all this time, and where have I been?\"\nAnd he looked all around him and said, \"How cold it is, and how large\nand empty it all looks,\" and he clung to Gerda, and she laughed and wept\nfor joy.\n\nIt was so pleasing to see them that even the pieces of ice danced, and\nwhen they were tired and went to lie down they formed themselves into\nthe letters of the word which the Snow Queen had said he must find out\nbefore he could be his own master and have the whole world and a pair of\nnew skates.\n\nGerda kissed his cheeks, and they became blooming; and she kissed his\neyes till they shone like her own; she kissed his hands and feet, and he\nbecame quite healthy and cheerful. The Snow Queen might come home now\nwhen she pleased, for there stood his certainty of freedom, in the word\nshe wanted, written in shining letters of ice.\n\nThen they took each other by the hand and went forth from the great\npalace of ice. They spoke of the grandmother and of the roses on the\nroof, and as they went on the winds were at rest, and the sun burst\nforth. When they arrived at the bush with red berries, there stood the\nreindeer waiting for them, and he had brought another young reindeer\nwith him, whose udders were full, and the children drank her warm milk\nand kissed her on the mouth.\n\nThey carried Kay and Gerda first to the Finland woman, where they warmed\nthemselves thoroughly in the hot room and had directions about their\njourney home. Next they went to the Lapland woman, who had made some new\nclothes for them and put their sleighs in order. Both the reindeer ran\nby their side and followed them as far as the boundaries of the country,\nwhere the first green leaves were budding. And here they took leave of\nthe two reindeer and the Lapland woman, and all said farewell.\n\nThen birds began to twitter, and the forest too was full of green young\nleaves, and out of it came a beautiful horse, which Gerda remembered,\nfor it was one which had drawn the golden coach. A young girl was riding\nupon it, with a shining red cap on her head and pistols in her belt. It\nwas the little robber maiden, who had got tired of staying at home; she\nwas going first to the north, and if that did not suit her, she meant to\ntry some other part of the world. She knew Gerda directly, and Gerda\nremembered her; it was a joyful meeting.\n\n\"You are a fine fellow to go gadding about in this way,\" said she to\nlittle Kay. \"I should like to know whether you deserve that any one\nshould go to the end of the world to find you.\"\n\nBut Gerda patted her cheeks and asked after the prince and princess.\n\n\"They are gone to foreign countries,\" said the robber girl.\n\n\"And the crow?\" asked Gerda.\n\n\"Oh, the crow is dead,\" she replied. \"His tame sweetheart is now a widow\nand wears a bit of black worsted round her leg. She mourns very\npitifully, but it is all stuff. But now tell me how you managed to get\nhim back.\"\n\nThen Gerda and Kay told her all about it.\n\n\"Snip, snap, snurre! it's all right at last,\" said the robber girl.\n\nShe took both their hands and promised that if ever she should pass\nthrough the town, she would call and pay them a visit. And then she rode\naway into the wide world.\n\nBut Gerda and Kay went hand in hand toward home, and as they advanced,\nspring appeared more lovely with its green verdure and its beautiful\nflowers. Very soon they recognized the large town where they lived, and\nthe tall steeples of the churches in which the sweet bells were ringing\na merry peal, as they entered it and found their way to their\ngrandmother's door.\n\nThey went upstairs into the little room, where all looked just as it\nused to do. The old clock was going \"Tick, tick,\" and the hands pointed\nto the time of day, but as they passed through the door into the room\nthey perceived that they were both grown up and become a man and woman.\nThe roses out on the roof were in full bloom and peeped in at the\nwindow, and there stood the little chairs on which they had sat when\nchildren, and Kay and Gerda seated themselves each on their own chair\nand held each other by the hand, while the cold, empty grandeur of the\nSnow Queen's palace vanished from their memories like a painful dream.\n\nThe grandmother sat in God's bright sunshine, and she read aloud from\nthe Bible, \"Except ye become as little children, ye shall in no wise\nenter into the kingdom of God.\" And Kay and Gerda looked into each\nother's eyes and all at once understood the words of the old song:\n\n          Roses bloom and fade away,\n          But we the Christ-child see alway.\n\nAnd they both sat there, grown up, yet children at heart, and it was\nsummer--warm, beautiful summer.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE ROSES AND THE SPARROWS\n\n\nIT really appeared as if something very important were going on by the\nduck pond, but this was not the case.\n\nA few minutes before, all the ducks had been resting on the water or\nstanding on their heads--for that they can do--and then they all swam in\na bustle to the shore. The traces of their feet could be seen on the wet\nearth, and far and wide could be heard their quacking. The water, so\nlately clear and bright as a mirror, was in quite a commotion.\n\nBut a moment before, every tree and bush near the old farmhouse--and\neven the house itself with the holes in the roof and the swallows' nests\nand, above all, the beautiful rosebush covered with roses--had been\nclearly reflected in the water. The rosebush on the wall hung over the\nwater, which resembled a picture only that everything appeared upside\ndown, but when the water was set in motion all vanished, and the picture\ndisappeared.\n\nTwo feathers, dropped by the fluttering ducks, floated to and fro on the\nwater. All at once they took a start as if the wind were coming, but it\ndid not come, so they were obliged to lie still, as the water became\nagain quiet and at rest. The roses could once more behold their own\nreflections. They were very beautiful, but they knew it not, for no one\nhad told them. The sun shone between the delicate leaves, and the sweet\nfragrance spread itself, carrying happiness everywhere.\n\n\"How beautiful is our existence!\" said one of the roses. \"I feel as if I\nshould like to kiss the sun, it is so bright and warm. I should like to\nkiss the roses too, our images in the water, and the pretty birds there\nin their nests. There are some birds too in the nest above us; they\nstretch out their heads and cry 'Tweet, tweet,' very faintly. They have\nno feathers yet, such as their father and mother have. Both above us and\nbelow us we have good neighbors. How beautiful is our life!\"\n\nThe young birds above and the young ones below were the same; they were\nsparrows, and their nest was reflected in the water. Their parents were\nsparrows also, and they had taken possession of an empty swallow's nest\nof the year before, occupying it now as if it were their own.\n\n\"Are those ducks' children that are swimming about? asked the young\nsparrows, as they spied the feathers on the water.\n\n\"If you must ask questions, pray ask sensible ones,\" said the mother.\n\"Can you not see that these are feathers, the living stuff for clothes,\nwhich I wear and which you will wear soon, only ours are much finer? I\nshould like, however, to have them up here in the nest, they would make\nit so warm. I am rather curious to know why the ducks were so alarmed\njust now. It could not be from fear of us, certainly, though I did say\n'tweet' rather loudly. The thick-headed roses really ought to know, but\nthey are very ignorant; they only look at one another and smell. I am\nheartily tired of such neighbors.\"\n\n\"Listen to the sweet little birds above us,\" said the roses; \"they are\ntrying to sing. They cannot manage it yet, but it will be done in time.\nWhat a pleasure it will be, and how nice to have such lively neighbors!\"\n\nSuddenly two horses came prancing along to drink at the water. A peasant\nboy rode on one of them; he had a broad-brimmed black hat on, but had\ntaken off the most of his clothes, that he might ride into the deepest\npart of the pond; he whistled like a bird, and while passing the\nrosebush he plucked a rose and placed it in his hat and then rode on\nthinking himself very fine. The other roses looked at their sister and\nasked each other where she could be going, but they did not know.\n\n\"I should like for once to go out into the world,\" said one, \"although\nit is very lovely here in our home of green leaves. The sun shines\nwarmly by day, and in the night we can see that heaven is more beautiful\nstill, as it sparkles through the holes in the sky.\"\n\nShe meant the stars, for she knew no better.\n\n\"We make the house very lively,\" said the mother sparrow, \"and people\nsay that a swallow's nest brings luck, therefore they are pleased to\nsee us; but as to our neighbors, a rosebush on the wall produces damp.\nIt will most likely be removed, and perhaps corn will grow here instead\nof it. Roses are good for nothing but to be looked at and smelt, or\nperhaps one may chance to be stuck in a hat. I have heard from my mother\nthat they fall off every year. The farmer's wife preserves them by\nlaying them in salt, and then they receive a French name which I neither\ncan nor will pronounce; then they are sprinkled on the fire to produce a\npleasant smell. Such you see is their life. They are only formed to\nplease the eye and the nose. Now you know all about them.\"\n\nAs the evening approached, the gnats played about in the warm air\nbeneath the rosy clouds, and the nightingale came and sang to the roses\nthat _the beautiful_ was like sunshine to the world, and that _the\nbeautiful_ lives forever. The roses thought that the nightingale was\nsinging of herself, which any one indeed could easily suppose; they\nnever imagined that her song could refer to them. But it was a joy to\nthem, and they wondered to themselves whether all the little sparrows in\nthe nest would become nightingales.\n\n\"We understood that bird's song very well,\" said the young sparrows,\n\"but one word was not clear. What is _the beautiful_?\"\n\n\"Oh, nothing of any consequence,\" replied the mother sparrow. \"It is\nsomething relating to appearances over yonder at the nobleman's house.\nThe pigeons have a house of their own, and every day they have corn and\npeas spread for them. I have dined there with them sometimes, and so\nshall you by and by, for I believe the old maxim--'Tell me what company\nyou keep, and I will tell you what you are.' Well, over at the noble\nhouse there are two birds with green throats and crests on their heads.\nThey can spread out their tails like large wheels, and they reflect so\nmany beautiful colors that it dazzles the eyes to look at them. These\nbirds are called peacocks, and they belong to _the beautiful_; but if\nonly a few of their feathers were plucked off, they would not appear\nbetter than we do. I would myself have plucked some out had they not\nbeen so large.\"\n\n\"I will pluck them,\" squeaked the youngest sparrow, who had as yet no\nfeathers of his own.\n\nIn the cottage dwelt two young married people, who loved each other very\nmuch and were industrious and active so that everything looked neat and\npretty around them. Early on Sunday mornings the young wife came out,\ngathered a handful of the most beautiful roses, and put them in a glass\nof water, which she placed on a side table.\n\n\"I see now that it is Sunday,\" said the husband, as he kissed his little\nwife. Then they sat down and read in their hymn books, holding each\nother's hands, while the sun shone down upon the young couple and upon\nthe fresh roses in the glass.\n\n\"This sight is really too wearisome,\" said the mother sparrow, who from\nher nest could look into the room; and she flew away.\n\nThe same thing occurred the next Sunday; and indeed every Sunday fresh\nroses were gathered and placed in a glass, but the rose tree continued\nto bloom in all its beauty. After a while the young sparrows were\nfledged and wanted to fly, but the mother would not allow it, and so\nthey were obliged to remain in the nest for the present, while she flew\naway alone. It so happened that some boys had fastened a snare made of\nhorsehair to the branch of a tree, and before she was aware, her leg\nbecame entangled in the horsehair so tightly as almost to cut it\nthrough. What pain and terror she felt! The boys ran up quickly and\nseized her, not in a very gentle manner.\n\n\"It is only a sparrow,\" they said. However they did not let her fly, but\ntook her home with them, and every time she cried they tapped her on the\nbeak.\n\nIn the farmyard they met an old man who knew how to make soap for\nshaving and washing, in cakes or in balls. When he saw the sparrow which\nthe boys had brought home and which they said they did not know what to\ndo with, he said, \"Shall we make it beautiful?\"\n\nA cold shudder passed over the sparrow when she heard this. The old man\nthen took a shell containing a quantity of glittering gold leaf from a\nbox full of beautiful colors and told the youngsters to fetch the white\nof an egg, with which he besmeared the sparrow all over and then laid\nthe gold leaf upon it, so that the mother sparrow was now gilded from\nhead to tail. She thought not of her appearance, but trembled in every\nlimb. Then the soap maker tore a little piece out of the red lining of\nhis jacket, cut notches in it, so that it looked like a cock'scomb, and\nstuck it on the bird's head.\n\n\"Now you shall see gold-jacket fly,\" said the old man, and he released\nthe sparrow, which flew away in deadly terror with the sunlight shining\nupon her. How she did glitter! All the sparrows, and even a crow, who is\na knowing old boy, were startled at the sight, yet they all followed it\nto discover what foreign bird it could be. Driven by anguish and terror,\nshe flew homeward almost ready to sink to the earth for want of\nstrength. The flock of birds that were following increased and some even\ntried to peck her.\n\n\"Look at him! look at him!\" they all cried. \"Look at him! look at him!\"\ncried the young ones as their mother approached the nest, for they did\nnot know her. \"That must be a young peacock, for he glitters in all\ncolors. It quite hurts one's eyes to look at him, as mother told us;\n'tweet,' this is _the beautiful_.\" And then they pecked the bird with\ntheir little beaks so that she was quite unable to get into the nest and\nwas too much exhausted even to say \"tweet,\" much less \"I am your\nmother.\" So the other birds fell upon the sparrow and pulled out feather\nafter feather till she sank bleeding into the rosebush.\n\n\"You poor creature,\" said the roses, \"be at rest. We will hide you; lean\nyour little head against us.\"\n\nThe sparrow spread out her wings once more, then drew them in close\nabout her and lay dead among the roses, her fresh and lovely neighbors.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Tweet,\" sounded from the nest; \"where can our mother be staying? It is\nquite unaccountable. Can this be a trick of hers to show us that we are\nnow to take care of ourselves? She has left us the house as an\ninheritance, but as it cannot belong to us all when we have families,\nwho is to have it?\"\n\n\"It won't do for you all to stay with me when I increase my household\nwith a wife and children,\" remarked the youngest.\n\n\"I shall have more wives and children than you,\" said the second.\n\n\"But I am the eldest,\" cried a third.\n\nThen they all became angry, beat each other with their wings, pecked\nwith their beaks, till one after another bounced out of the nest. There\nthey lay in a rage, holding their heads on one side and twinkling the\neye that looked upward. This was their way of looking sulky.\n\nThey could all fly a little, and by practice they soon learned to do so\nmuch better. At length they agreed upon a sign by which they might be\nable to recognize each other in case they should meet in the world after\nthey had separated. This sign was to be the cry of \"tweet, tweet,\" and a\nscratching on the ground three times with the left foot.\n\nThe youngster who was left behind in the nest spread himself out as\nbroad as ever he could; he was the householder now. But his glory did\nnot last long, for during that night red flames of fire burst through\nthe windows of the cottage, seized the thatched roof, and blazed up\nfrightfully. The whole house was burned, and the sparrow perished with\nit, while the young couple fortunately escaped with their lives.\n\nWhen the sun rose again, and all nature looked refreshed as after a\nquiet sleep, nothing remained of the cottage but a few blackened,\ncharred beams leaning against the chimney, that now was the only master\nof the place. Thick smoke still rose from the ruins, but outside on the\nwall the rosebush remained unhurt, blooming and fresh as ever, while\neach flower and each spray was mirrored in the clear water beneath.\n\n\"How beautifully the roses are blooming on the walls of that ruined\ncottage,\" said a passer-by. \"A more lovely picture could scarcely be\nimagined. I must have it.\"\n\nAnd the speaker took out of his pocket a little book full of white\nleaves of paper (for he was an artist), and with a pencil he made a\nsketch of the smoking ruins, the blackened rafters, and the chimney that\noverhung them and which seemed more and more to totter; and quite in the\nforeground stood the large, blooming rosebush, which added beauty to the\npicture; indeed, it was for the sake of the roses that the sketch had\nbeen made. Later in the day two of the sparrows who had been born there\ncame by.\n\n\"Where is the house?\" they asked. \"Where is the nest? Tweet, tweet; all\nis burned down, and our strong brother with it. That is all he got by\nkeeping the nest. The roses have escaped famously; they look as well as\never, with their rosy cheeks; they do not trouble themselves about their\nneighbors' misfortunes. I won't speak to them. And really, in my\nopinion, the place looks very ugly\"; so they flew away.\n\nOn a fine, bright, sunny day in autumn, so bright that any one might\nhave supposed it was still the middle of summer, a number of pigeons\nwere hopping about in the nicely kept courtyard of the nobleman's house,\nin front of the great steps. Some were black, others white, and some of\nvarious colors, and their plumage glittered in the sunshine. An old\nmother pigeon said to her young ones, \"Place yourselves in groups! place\nyourselves in groups! it has a much better appearance.\"\n\n\"What are those little gray creatures which are running about behind\nus?\" asked an old pigeon with red and green round her eyes. \"Little gray\nones, little gray ones,\" she cried.\n\n\"They are sparrows--good little creatures enough. We have always had the\ncharacter of being very good-natured, so we allow them to pick up some\ncorn with us; they do not interrupt our conversation, and they draw back\ntheir left foot so prettily.\"\n\nSure enough, so they did, three times each, and with the left foot too,\nand said \"tweet,\" by which we recognize them as the sparrows that were\nbrought up in the nest on the house that was burned down.\n\n\"The food here is very good,\" said the sparrows; while the pigeons\nstrutted round each other, puffed out their throats, and formed their\nown opinions on what they observed.\n\n\"Do you see the pouter pigeon?\" asked one pigeon of another. \"Do you see\nhow he swallows the peas? He takes too much and always chooses the best\nof everything. Coo-oo, coo-oo. How the ugly, spiteful creature erects\nhis crest.\" And all their eyes sparkled with malice. \"Place yourselves\nin groups, place yourselves in groups. Little gray coats, little gray\ncoats. Coo-oo, coo-oo.\"\n\nSo they went on, and it will be the same a thousand years hence.\n\nThe sparrows feasted bravely and listened attentively; they even stood\nin ranks like the pigeons, but it did not suit them. So having satisfied\ntheir hunger, they left the pigeons passing their own opinions upon them\nto each other and slipped through the garden railings. The door of a\nroom in the house, leading into the garden, stood open, and one of them,\nfeeling brave after his good dinner, hopped upon the threshold crying,\n\"Tweet, I can venture so far.\"\n\n\"Tweet,\" said another, \"I can venture that, and a great deal more,\" and\ninto the room he hopped.\n\nThe first followed, and, seeing no one there, the third became\ncourageous and flew right across the room, saying: \"Venture everything,\nor do not venture at all. This is a wonderful place--a man's nest, I\nsuppose; and look! what can this be?\"\n\nJust in front of the sparrows stood the ruins of the burned cottage;\nroses were blooming over it, and their reflection appeared in the water\nbeneath, and the black, charred beams rested against the tottering\nchimney. How could it be? How came the cottage and the roses in a room\nin the nobleman's house? And then the sparrows tried to fly over the\nroses and the chimney, but they only struck themselves against a flat\nwall. It was a picture--a large, beautiful picture which the artist had\npainted from the little sketch he had made.\n\n\"Tweet,\" said the sparrows, \"it is really nothing, after all; it only\nlooks like reality. Tweet, I suppose that is _the beautiful_. Can you\nunderstand it? I cannot.\"\n\nThen some persons entered the room and the sparrows flew away. Days and\nyears passed. The pigeons had often \"coo-oo-d\"--we must not say\nquarreled, though perhaps they did, the naughty things! The sparrows had\nsuffered from cold in the winter and lived gloriously in summer. They\nwere all betrothed, or married, or whatever you like to call it. They\nhad little ones, and each considered its own brood the wisest and the\nprettiest.\n\nOne flew in this direction and another in that, and when they met they\nrecognized each other by saying \"tweet\" and three times drawing back\nthe left foot. The eldest remained single; she had no nest nor young\nones. Her great wish was to see a large town, so she flew to Copenhagen.\n\nClose by the castle, and by the canal, in which swam many ships laden\nwith apples and pottery, there was to be seen a great house. The windows\nwere broader below than at the top, and when the sparrows peeped through\nthey saw a room that looked to them like a tulip with beautiful colors\nof every shade. Within the tulip were white figures of human beings,\nmade of marble--some few of plaster, but this is the same thing to a\nsparrow. Upon the roof stood a metal chariot and horses, and the goddess\nof victory, also of metal, was seated in the chariot driving the horses.\n\nIt was Thorwaldsen's museum. \"How it shines and glitters,\" said the\nmaiden sparrow. \"This must be _the beautiful_,--tweet,--only this is\nlarger than a peacock.\" She remembered what her mother had told them in\nher childhood, that the peacock was one of the greatest examples of _the\nbeautiful_. She flew down into the courtyard, where everything also was\nvery grand. The walls were painted to represent palm branches, and in\nthe midst of the court stood a large, blooming rose tree, spreading its\nyoung, sweet, rose-covered branches over a grave. Thither the maiden\nsparrow flew, for she saw many others of her own kind.\n\n\"Tweet,\" said she, drawing back her foot three times. She had, during\nthe years that had passed, often made the usual greeting to the sparrows\nshe met, but without receiving any acknowledgment; for friends who are\nonce separated do not meet every day. This manner of greeting was become\na habit to her, and to-day two old sparrows and a young one returned the\ngreeting.\n\n\"Tweet,\" they replied and drew back the left foot three times. They were\ntwo old sparrows out of the nest, and a young one belonging to the\nfamily. \"Ah, good day; how do you do? To think of our meeting here! This\nis a very grand place, but there is not much to eat; this is _the\nbeautiful_. Tweet!\"\n\nA great many people now came out of the side rooms, in which the marble\nstatues stood, and approached the grave where rested the remains of the\ngreat master who carved them. As they stood round Thorwaldsen's grave,\neach face had a reflected glory, and some few gathered up the fallen\nrose leaves to preserve them. They had all come from afar; one from\nmighty England, others from Germany and France. One very handsome lady\nplucked a rose and concealed it in her bosom. Then the sparrows thought\nthat the roses ruled in this place, and that the whole house had been\nbuilt for them--which seemed really too much honor; but as all the\npeople showed their love for the roses, the sparrows thought they would\nnot remain behindhand in paying their respects.\n\n\"Tweet,\" they said, and swept the ground with their tails, and glanced\nwith one eye at the roses. They had not looked at them very long,\nhowever, before they felt convinced that they were old acquaintances,\nand so they actually were. The artist who had sketched the rosebush and\nthe ruins of the cottage had since then received permission to\ntransplant the bush and had given it to the architect, for more\nbeautiful roses had never been seen. The architect had planted it on the\ngrave of Thorwaldsen, where it continued to bloom, the image of _the\nbeautiful_, scattering its fragrant, rosy leaves to be gathered and\ncarried away into distant lands in memory of the spot on which they\nfell.\n\n\"Have you obtained a situation in town?\" then asked the sparrows of the\nroses.\n\nThe roses nodded. They recognized their little brown neighbors and were\nrejoiced to see them again.\n\n\"It is very delightful,\" said the roses, \"to live here and to blossom,\nto meet old friends, and to see cheerful faces every day. It is as if\neach day were a holiday.\"\n\n\"Tweet,\" said the sparrows to each other. \"Yes, these really are our old\nneighbors. We remember their origin near the pond. Tweet! how they have\nrisen, to be sure. Some people seem to get on while they are asleep. Ah!\nthere's a withered leaf. I can see it quite plainly.\"\n\nAnd they pecked at the leaf till it fell, but the rosebush continued\nfresher and greener than ever. The roses bloomed in the sunshine on\nThorwaldsen's grave and thus became linked with his immortal name.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE OLD HOUSE\n\n\nA VERY old house once stood in a street with several others that were\nquite new and clean. One could read the date of its erection, which had\nbeen carved on one of the beams and surrounded by scrolls formed of\ntulips and hop tendrils; by this date it could be seen that the old\nhouse was nearly three hundred years old. Entire verses too were written\nover the windows in old-fashioned letters, and grotesque faces,\ncuriously carved, grinned at you from under the cornices. One story\nprojected a long way over the other, and under the roof ran a leaden\ngutter with a dragon's head at the end. The rain was intended to pour\nout at the dragon's mouth, but it ran out of his body instead, for there\nwas a hole in the gutter.\n\nAll the other houses in the street were new and well built, with large\nwindowpanes and smooth walls. Any one might see they had nothing to do\nwith the old house. Perhaps they thought: \"How long will that heap of\nrubbish remain here, to be a disgrace to the whole street? The parapet\nprojects so far forward that no one can see out of our windows what is\ngoing on in that direction. The stairs are as broad as the staircase of\na castle and as steep as if they led to a church tower. The iron railing\nlooks like the gate of a cemetery, and there are brass knobs upon it. It\nis really too ridiculous.\"\n\nOpposite to the old house were more nice new houses, which had just the\nsame opinion as their neighbors.\n\nAt the window of one of them sat a little boy with fresh, rosy cheeks\nand clear, sparkling eyes, who was very fond of the old house in\nsunshine or in moonlight. He would sit and look at the wall, from which\nthe plaster had in some places fallen off, and fancy all sorts of scenes\nwhich had been in former times--how the street must have looked when the\nhouses had all gable roofs, open staircases, and gutters with dragons\nat the spout. He could even see soldiers walking about with halberds.\nCertainly it was a very good house to look at for amusement.\n\nAn old man lived in it who wore knee breeches, a coat with large brass\nbuttons, and a wig which any one could see was a real one. Every morning\nthere came an old man to clean the rooms and to wait upon him, otherwise\nthe old man in the knee breeches would have been quite alone in the\nhouse. Sometimes he came to one of the windows and looked out; then the\nlittle boy nodded to him, and the old man nodded back again, till they\nbecame acquainted, and were friends, although they had never spoken to\neach other; but that was of no consequence.\n\nThe little boy one day heard his parents say, \"The old man is very well\noff, but he must be terribly lonely.\" So the next Sunday morning the\nlittle boy wrapped something in a paper, and took it to the door of the\nold house, and said to the attendant who waited upon the old man: \"Will\nyou please to give this from me to the gentleman who lives here? I have\ntwo tin soldiers, and this is one of them, and he shall have it,\nbecause I know he is terribly lonely.\"\n\nThe old attendant nodded and looked very much pleased, and then he\ncarried the tin soldier into the house.\n\nAfterwards he was sent over to ask the little boy if he would not like\nto pay a visit himself. His parents gave him permission, and so it was\nthat he gained admission to the old house.\n\nThe brass knobs on the railings shone more brightly than ever, as if\nthey had been polished on account of his visit; and on the doors were\ncarved trumpeters standing in tulips, and it seemed as if they were\nblowing with all their might, their cheeks were so puffed out:\n\"Tanta-ra-ra, the little boy is coming. Tanta-ra-ra, the little boy is\ncoming.\"\n\nThen the door opened. All round the hall hung old portraits of knights\nin armor and ladies in silk gowns; and the armor rattled, and the silk\ndresses rustled. Then came a staircase which went up a long way, and\nthen came down a little way and led to a balcony which was in a very\nruinous state. There were large holes and long cracks, out of which\ngrew grass and leaves; indeed the whole balcony, the courtyard, and the\nwalls were so overgrown with green that they looked like a garden.\n\nIn the balcony stood flowerpots on which were heads having asses' ears,\nbut the flowers in them grew just as they pleased. In one pot, pinks\nwere growing all over the sides,--at least the green leaves\nwere,--shooting forth stalk and stem and saying as plainly as they could\nspeak, \"The air has fanned me, the sun has kissed me, and I am promised\na little flower for next Sunday--really for next Sunday!\"\n\nThen they entered a room in which the walls were covered with leather,\nand the leather had golden flowers stamped upon it.\n\n          \"Gilding wears out with time and bad weather,\n           But leather endures; there's nothing like leather,\"\n\nsaid the walls. Chairs handsomely carved, with elbows on each side and\nwith very high backs, stood in the room; and as they creaked they seemed\nto say: \"Sit down. Oh dear! how I am creaking; I shall certainly have\nthe gout like the old cupboard. Gout in my back, ugh!\"\n\nAnd then the little boy entered the room where the old man sat.\n\n\"Thank you for the tin soldier, my little friend,\" said the old man,\n\"and thank you also for coming to see me.\"\n\n\"Thanks, thanks\"--or \"Creak, creak\"--said all the furniture.\n\nThere was so much furniture that the pieces stood in each other's way to\nget a sight of the little boy. On the wall near the center of the room\nhung the picture of a beautiful lady, young and gay, dressed in the\nfashion of the olden times, with powdered hair and a full, stiff skirt.\nShe said neither \"thanks\" nor \"creak,\" but she looked down upon the\nlittle boy with her mild eyes, and he said to the old man,\n\n\"Where did you get that picture?\"\n\n\"From the shop opposite,\" he replied. \"Many portraits hang there. No one\nseems to know any of them or to trouble himself about them. The persons\nthey represent have been dead and buried long since. But I knew this\nlady many years ago, and she has been dead nearly half a century.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"Thank you for the tin soldier, my little friend,\" said\nthe old man....]\n\nUnder a glass beneath the picture hung a nosegay of withered flowers,\nwhich were, no doubt, half a century old too, at least they appeared so.\n\nAnd the pendulum of the old clock went to and fro, and the hands turned\nround, and as time passed on everything in the room grew older, but no\none seemed to notice it.\n\n\"They say at home,\" said the little boy, \"that you are very lonely.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" replied the old man, \"I have pleasant thoughts of all that is past\nrecalled by memory, and now you too are come to visit me, and that is\nvery pleasant.\"\n\nThen he took from the bookcase a book full of pictures representing long\nprocessions of wonderful coaches such as are never seen at the present\ntime, soldiers like the knave of clubs, and citizens with waving\nbanners. The tailors had a flag with a pair of scissors supported by two\nlions, and on the shoemakers' flag there were not boots but an eagle\nwith two heads, for the shoemakers must have everything arranged so that\nthey can say, \"This is a pair.\" What a picture book it was! And then the\nold man went into another room to fetch apples and nuts. It was very\npleasant, certainly, to be in that old house.\n\n\"I cannot endure it,\" said the tin soldier, who stood on a shelf; \"it is\nso lonely and dull here. I have been accustomed to live in a family, and\nI cannot get used to this life. I cannot bear it. The whole day is long\nenough, but the evening is longer. It is not here as it was in your\nhouse opposite, when your father and mother talked so cheerfully\ntogether, while you and all the dear children made such a delightful\nnoise. Do you think he gets any kisses? Do you think he ever has\nfriendly looks or a Christmas tree? He will have nothing now but the\ngrave. Oh! I cannot bear it.\"\n\n\"You must not look on the sorrowful side so much,\" said the little boy.\n\"I think everything in this house is beautiful, and all the old,\npleasant thoughts come back here to pay visits.\"\n\n\"Ah, but I never see any, and I don't know them,\" said the tin soldier;\n\"and I cannot bear it.\"\n\n\"You must bear it,\" said the little boy. Then the old man came back with\na pleasant face, and brought with him beautiful preserved fruits as\nwell as apples and nuts, and the little boy thought no more of the tin\nsoldier.\n\nHow happy and delighted the little boy was! And after he returned home,\nand while days and weeks passed, a great deal of nodding took place from\none house to the other, and then the little boy went to pay another\nvisit. The carved trumpeters blew: \"Tanta-ra-ra, there is the little\nboy. Tanta-ra-ra.\" The swords and armor on the old knights' pictures\nrattled, the silk dresses rustled, the leather repeated its rhyme, and\nthe old chairs that had the gout in their backs cried \"Creak\"; it was\nall exactly like the first time, for in that house one day and one hour\nwere just like another.\n\n\"I cannot bear it any longer,\" said the tin soldier; \"I have wept tears\nof tin, it is so melancholy here. Let me go to the wars and lose an arm\nor a leg; that would be some change. I cannot bear it. Now I know what\nit is to have visits from one's old recollections and all they bring\nwith them. I have had visits from mine, and you may believe me it is not\naltogether pleasant. I was very nearly jumping from the shelf. I saw you\nall in your house opposite, as if you were really present.\n\n\"It was Sunday morning, and you children stood round the table, singing\nthe hymn that you sing every morning. You were standing quietly with\nyour hands folded, and your father and mother were looking just as\nserious, when the door opened, and your little sister Maria, who is not\ntwo years old, was brought into the room. You know she always dances\nwhen she hears music and singing of any sort, so she began to dance\nimmediately, although she ought not to have done so; but she could not\nget into the right time because the tune was so slow, so she stood first\non one foot and then on the other and bent her head very low, but it\nwould not suit the music. You all stood looking grave, although it was\nvery difficult to do so, but I laughed so to myself that I fell down\nfrom the table and got a bruise, which is still there. I know it was not\nright to laugh. So all this, and everything else that I have seen, keeps\nrunning in my head, and these must be the old recollections that bring\nso many thoughts with them. Tell me whether you still sing on Sundays,\nand tell me about your little sister Maria, and how my old comrade is,\nthe other tin soldier. Ah, really he must be very happy. I cannot endure\nthis life.\"\n\n\"You are given away,\" said the little boy; \"you must stay. Don't you see\nthat?\" Then the old man came in with a box containing many curious\nthings to show him. Rouge-pots, scent-boxes, and old cards so large and\nso richly gilded that none are ever seen like them in these days. And\nthere were smaller boxes to look at, and the piano was opened, and\ninside the lid were painted landscapes. But when the old man played, the\npiano sounded quite out of tune. Then he looked at the picture he had\nbought at the broker's, and his eyes sparkled brightly as he nodded at\nit and said, \"Ah, she could sing that tune.\"\n\n\"I will go to the wars! I will go to the wars!\" cried the tin soldier as\nloud as he could, and threw himself down on the floor. Where could he\nhave fallen? The old man searched, and the little boy searched, but he\nwas gone and could not be found. \"I shall find him again,\" said the old\nman. But he did not find him; the tin soldier had fallen through a crack\nbetween the boards and lay there now as in an open grave.\n\nThe day went by, and the little boy returned home; the week passed, and\nmany more weeks. It was winter, and the windows were quite frozen, so\nthat the little boy was obliged to breathe on the panes and rub a hole\nto peep through at the old house. Snowdrifts were lying in all the\nscrolls and on the inscriptions, and the steps were covered with snow as\nif no one were at home. And indeed nobody was at home, for the old man\nwas dead.\n\nIn the evening the old man was to be taken to the country to be buried\nthere in his own grave; so they carried him away. No one followed him,\nfor all his friends were dead, and the little boy kissed his hand to his\nold friend as he saw him borne away.\n\nA few days after, there was an auction at the old house, and from his\nwindow the little boy saw the people carrying away the pictures of old\nknights and ladies, the flowerpots with the long ears, the old chairs,\nand the cupboards. Some were taken one way, some another. _Her_\nportrait, which had been bought at the picture dealer's, went back again\nto his shop, and there it remained, for no one seemed to know her or to\ncare for the old picture.\n\nIn the spring they began to pull the house itself down; people called it\ncomplete rubbish. From the street could be seen the room in which the\nwalls were covered with leather, ragged and torn, and the green in the\nbalcony hung straggling over the beams; they pulled it down quickly, for\nit looked ready to fall, and at last it was cleared away altogether.\n\"What a good riddance,\" said the neighbors' houses.\n\nAfterward a fine new house was built, farther back from the road. It had\nlofty windows and smooth walls, but in front, on the spot where the old\nhouse really stood, a little garden was planted, and wild vines grew up\nover the neighboring walls. In front of the garden were large iron\nrailings and a great gate which looked very stately. People used to stop\nand peep through the railings. The sparrows assembled in dozens upon the\nwild vines and chattered all together as loud as they could, but not\nabout the old house. None of them could remember it, for many years had\npassed by; so many, indeed, that the little boy was now a man, and a\nreally good man too, and his parents were very proud of him. He had just\nmarried and had come with his young wife to reside in the new house with\nthe garden in front of it, and now he stood there by her side while she\nplanted a field flower that she thought very pretty. She was planting it\nherself with her little hands and pressing down the earth with her\nfingers. \"Oh, dear, what was that?\" she exclaimed as something pricked\nher. Out of the soft earth something was sticking up.\n\nIt was--only think!--it was really the tin soldier, the very same which\nhad been lost up in the old man's room and had been hidden among old\nwood and rubbish for a long time till it sank into the earth, where it\nmust have been for many years. And the young wife wiped the soldier,\nfirst with a green leaf and then with her fine pocket handkerchief, that\nsmelt of a beautiful perfume. And the tin soldier felt as if he were\nrecovering from a fainting fit.\n\n\"Let me see him,\" said the young man, and then he smiled and shook his\nhead and said, \"It can scarcely be the same, but it reminds me of\nsomething that happened to one of my tin soldiers when I was a little\nboy.\" And then he told his wife about the old house and the old man and\nof the tin soldier which he had sent across because he thought the old\nman was lonely. And he related the story so clearly that tears came into\nthe eyes of the young wife for the old house and the old man.\n\n\"It is very likely that this is really the same soldier,\" said she, \"and\nI will take care of him and always remember what you have told me; but\nsome day you must show me the old man's grave.\"\n\n\"I don't know where it is,\" he replied; \"no one knows. All his friends\nare dead. No one took care of him or tended his grave, and I was only a\nlittle boy.\"\n\n\"Oh, how dreadfully lonely he must have been,\" said she.\n\n\"Yes, terribly lonely,\" cried the tin soldier; \"still it is delightful\nnot to be forgotten.\"\n\n\"Delightful indeed!\" cried a voice quite near to them. No one but the\ntin soldier saw that it came from a rag of the leather which hung in\ntatters. It had lost all its gilding and looked like wet earth, but it\nhad an opinion, and it spoke it thus:\n\n          \"Gilding wears out with time and bad weather,\n           But leather endures; there's nothing like leather.\"\n\nBut the tin soldier did not believe any such thing.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE CONCEITED APPLE BRANCH\n\n\nIT WAS the month of May. The wind still blew cold, but from bush and\ntree, field and flower, came the welcome sound, \"Spring is come.\"\n\nWild flowers in profusion covered the hedges. Under the little apple\ntree Spring seemed busy, and he told his tale from one of the branches,\nwhich hung fresh and blooming and covered with delicate pink blossoms\nthat were just ready to open.\n\nThe branch well knew how beautiful it was; this knowledge exists as much\nin the leaf as in the blood. I was therefore not surprised when a\nnobleman's carriage, in which sat the young countess, stopped in the\nroad just by. The apple branch, she said, was a most lovely object, an\nemblem of spring in its most charming aspect. The branch was broken off\nfor her, and she held it in her delicate hand and sheltered it with her\nsilk parasol.\n\nThen they drove to the castle, in which were lofty halls and splendid\ndrawing-rooms. Pure white curtains fluttered before the open windows,\nand beautiful flowers stood in transparent vases. In one of them, which\nlooked as if it had been cut out of newly fallen snow, the apple branch\nwas placed among some fresh light twigs of beech. It was a charming\nsight. And the branch became proud, which was very much like human\nnature.\n\nPeople of every description entered the room, and according to their\nposition in society so dared they to express their admiration. Some few\nsaid nothing, others expressed too much, and the apple branch very soon\ngot to understand that there was as much difference in the characters of\nhuman beings as in those of plants and flowers. Some are all for pomp\nand parade, others have a great deal to do to maintain their own\nimportance, while the rest might be spared without much loss to\nsociety. So thought the apple branch as he stood before the open\nwindow, from which he could see out over gardens and fields, where there\nwere flowers and plants enough for him to think and reflect upon--some\nrich and beautiful, some poor and humble indeed.\n\n\"Poor despised herbs,\" said the apple branch; \"there is really a\ndifference between them and such as I am. How unhappy they must be if\nthey can feel as those in my position do! There is a difference indeed,\nand so there ought to be, or we should all be equals.\"\n\nAnd the apple branch looked with a sort of pity upon them, especially on\na certain little flower that is found in fields and in ditches. No one\nbound these flowers together in a nosegay, they were too common,--they\nwere even known to grow between the paving stones, shooting up\neverywhere like bad weeds,--and they bore the very ugly name of \"dog\nflowers,\" or \"dandelions.\"\n\n\"Poor despised plants,\" said the apple bough, \"it is not your fault that\nyou are so ugly and that you have such an ugly name, but it is with\nplants as with men--there must be a difference.\"\n\n\"A difference!\" cried the sunbeam as he kissed the blooming apple branch\nand then kissed the yellow dandelion out in the fields. All were\nbrothers, and the sunbeam kissed them--the poor flowers as well as the\nrich.\n\nThe apple bough had never thought of the boundless love of God which\nextends over all the works of creation, over everything which lives and\nmoves and has its being in Him. He had never thought of the good and\nbeautiful which are so often hidden, but can never remain forgotten by\nHim, not only among the lower creation, but also among men. The sunbeam,\nthe ray of light, knew better.\n\n\"You do not see very far nor very clearly,\" he said to the apple branch.\n\"Which is the despised plant you so specially pity?\"\n\n\"The dandelion,\" he replied. \"No one ever places it in a nosegay; it is\ntrodden under foot, there are so many of them; and when they run to seed\nthey have flowers like wool, which fly away in little pieces over the\nroads and cling to the dresses of the people; they are only weeds--but\nof course there must be weeds. Oh, I am really very thankful that I was\nnot made like one of these flowers.\"\n\nThere came presently across the fields a whole group of children, the\nyoungest of whom was so small that he had to be carried by the others;\nand when he was seated on the grass, among the yellow flowers, he\nlaughed aloud with joy, kicked out his little legs, rolled about,\nplucked the yellow flowers and kissed them in childlike innocence.\n\nThe elder children broke off the flowers with long stems, bent the\nstalks one round the other to form links, and made first a chain for the\nneck, then one to go across the shoulders and hang down to the waist,\nand at last a wreath to wear about the head; so that they looked quite\nsplendid in their garlands of green stems and golden flowers. But the\neldest among them gathered carefully the faded flowers, on the stem of\nwhich were grouped together the seeds, in the form of a white, feathery\ncoronal.\n\nThese loose, airy wool-flowers are very beautiful, and look like fine,\nsnowy feathers or down. The children held them to their mouths and tried\nto blow away the whole coronal with one puff of the breath. They had\nbeen told by their grandmothers that whoever did so would be sure to\nhave new clothes before the end of the year. The despised flower was by\nthis raised to the position of a prophet, or foreteller of events.\n\n\"Do you see,\" said the sunbeam, \"do you see the beauty of these flowers?\nDo you see their powers of giving pleasure?\"\n\n\"Yes, to children,\" said the apple bough.\n\nBy and by an old woman came into the field and, with a blunt knife\nwithout a handle, began to dig round the roots of some of the dandelion\nplants and pull them up. With some she intended to make tea for herself,\nbut the rest she was going to sell to the chemist and obtain money.\n\n\"But beauty is of higher value than all this,\" said the apple-tree\nbranch; \"only the chosen ones can be admitted into the realms of the\nbeautiful. There is a difference between plants, just as there is a\ndifference between men.\"\n\nThen the sunbeam spoke of the boundless love of God as seen in creation\nand over all that lives, and of the equal distribution of His gifts,\nboth in time and in eternity.\n\n\"That is your opinion,\" said the apple bough.\n\nThen some people came into the room and among them the young\ncountess--the lady who had placed the apple bough in the transparent\nvase, so pleasantly beneath the rays of sunlight. She carried in her\nhand something that seemed like a flower. The object was hidden by two\nor three great leaves which covered it like a shield so that no draft or\ngust of wind could injure it, and it was carried more carefully than the\napple branch had ever been.\n\nVery cautiously the large leaves were removed, and there appeared the\nfeathery seed crown of the despised yellow dandelion. This was what the\nlady had so carefully plucked and carried home so safely covered, so\nthat not one of the delicate feathery arrows of which its mistlike shape\nwas so lightly formed should flutter away. She now drew it forth quite\nuninjured and wondered at its beautiful form, its airy lightness and\nsingular construction so soon to be blown away by the wind.\n\n\"See,\" she exclaimed, \"how wonderfully God has made this little flower.\nI will paint it in a picture with the apple branch. Every one admires\nthe beauty of the apple bough, but this humble flower has been endowed\nby Heaven with another kind of loveliness, and although they differ in\nappearance both are children of the realms of beauty.\"\n\nThen the sunbeam kissed both the lowly flower and the blooming apple\nbranch, upon whose leaves appeared a rosy blush.\n\n\n\n\nNOTES\n\n\nLITTLE TUK\n\n        PAGE 21. _Seeland_: one of the islands of Denmark,\n          the country in which little Tuk lived.\n\n        PAGE 22. _Kj\u00f6ge_ (ke [~e] g[)e]h): a town about\n          which Tuk was to learn.\n\n        PAGE 24. _Pr\u00e6st\u00f6_ (pr\u00e6s\u00b4t[~e]): another town about\n          which Tuk was to learn.\n\n        _popinjay_ (p[)o]p\u00b4[)i]n j[=a]y): an image of a\n          parrot.\n\n        _Thorwaldsen_ (t\u00f4r v[.a]l s_e_n): one of the\n          greatest of modern sculptors. Supposed to have\n          been a native of Denmark.\n\n        _Vordingborg_ (v[=o]r\u00b4d[)i]ng b[)o]rk): in ancient\n          times this was a place of great importance. Now it\n          is an insignificant town; only a single lonely\n          tower remains where once a noble castle stood.\n\n        PAGE 25. _Kors\u00f6r_ (k\u00f4r\u00b4sor): before the time of\n          steamers this used to be called the most tiresome\n          town in Denmark. Travelers had to wait for a\n          favorable wind. The poet mentioned in the story\n          was Baggeson.\n\n        PAGE 26. _Roskilde_ (r\u00f4s g[)e]l l[~e]): once the\n          capital of Denmark.\n\n        PAGE 27. _Sor\u00f6_ (so\u00b4r[~e]): a very quiet little\n          town, in a beautiful situation, surrounded by\n          forests and lakes. Holberg, one of Denmark's\n          greatest poets, founded a celebrated academy here.\n          Other noted poets also had their homes here, and\n          taught in the academy.\n\n\nLITTLE THUMBELINA\n\n        PAGE 88. Decaying wood sometimes gives out a faint\n          light called _phosphorescence_.\n\n\nSUNSHINE STORIES\n\n        PAGE 106. For the story of the Golden Fleece, see\n          Kingsley's \"Greek Heroes.\"\n\n\nOLE-LUK-OIE, THE DREAM GOD\n\n        PAGE 145. _Ole-Luk-Oie_ ([=o]\u00b4le l[)oo]k\u00b4oi): the\n          Danish name for the sandman.\n\n\nELDER-TREE MOTHER\n\n        PAGE 179. _Copenhagen_ (k[=o] p[)e]n\n          h[=a]\u00b4g[)e]n): the capital of Denmark.\n\n        _Fredericksburg_ (fr[)e]d\u00b4[~e]r [)i]cks b\u00fbrg):\n          twenty-one miles from Copenhagen; the summer\n          residence of the royal family.\n\n\nTHE SNOW QUEEN\n\nFOURTH STORY\n\nTHE PRINCE AND PRINCESS\n\n        PAGE 217. Children have a kind of language, or\n          gibberish, which is sometimes called _crows'\n          language_. It is formed by adding letters or\n          syllables to every word.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTranscriber's Notes:\n\nObvious punctuation errors repaired.\n\nDiactritical symbols are rendered thus:\n\n          [~x]  tilde above\n          [)x]  breve above\n          [=x]  macron above\n          [.x]  dot above\n\nPage 24, \"Thorvaldsen\" changed to \"Thorwaldsen\" (Thorwaldsen lived in\none)\n\nPage 299, Glossary, some of the words were missing the stressing accent.\nThis was retained.","title":"Hans Andersen's Fairy Tales. First Series","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":53985}