{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_902/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_902","id":"gutenberg_902","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/902","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Short Stories","Children's Literature","Children's stories, English","Fairy tales","Short stories, English"],"text":"[Picture: Book cover]\n\n                       [Picture: The Happy Prince]\n\n\n\n\n\n                             The Happy Prince\n                             And Other Tales\n\n\n                                    BY\n                               OSCAR WILDE\n\n                              ILLUSTRATED BY\n                       WALTER CRANE AND JACOMB HOOD\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n                            SEVENTH IMPRESSION\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n                                  LONDON\n                       DAVID NUTT, 57\u201359 LONG ACRE\n                                   1910\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n_First Edition_         _May_ 1888\n_Second Impression_     _January_ 1889\n_Third Impression_      _February_ 1902\n_Fourth Impression_     _September_ 1905\n_Fifth Impression_      _February_ 1907\n_Sixth Impression_      _March_ 1908\n_Seventh Impression_    _March_ 1910\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n                                   _TO_\n                             _CARLOS BLACKER_\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n                [Picture: Decorative graphic of children]\n\n\n\n\nContents.\n\n                                        Page\nThe Happy Prince                           1\nThe Nightingale and the Rose              25\nThe Selfish Giant                         43\nThe Devoted Friend                        57\nThe Remarkable Rocket                     87\n\n\n\n\nThe Happy Prince.\n\n\n             [Picture: Woman opening window and seeing bird]\n\nHIGH above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy\nPrince.  He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes\nhe had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his\nsword-hilt.\n\nHe was very much admired indeed.  \u201cHe is as beautiful as a weathercock,\u201d\nremarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for\nhaving artistic tastes; \u201conly not quite so useful,\u201d he added, fearing\nlest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not.\n\n\u201cWhy can\u2019t you be like the Happy Prince?\u201d asked a sensible mother of her\nlittle boy who was crying for the moon.  \u201cThe Happy Prince never dreams\nof crying for anything.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy,\u201d muttered a\ndisappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.\n\n\u201cHe looks just like an angel,\u201d said the Charity Children as they came out\nof the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks and their clean white\npinafores.\n\n\u201cHow do you know?\u201d said the Mathematical Master, \u201cyou have never seen\none.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! but we have, in our dreams,\u201d answered the children; and the\nMathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not\napprove of children dreaming.\n\nOne night there flew over the city a little Swallow.  His friends had\ngone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he was\nin love with the most beautiful Reed.  He had met her early in the spring\nas he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so\nattracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.\n\n\u201cShall I love you?\u201d said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point at\nonce, and the Reed made him a low bow.  So he flew round and round her,\ntouching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples.  This was\nhis courtship, and it lasted all through the summer.\n\n\u201cIt is a ridiculous attachment,\u201d twittered the other Swallows; \u201cshe has\nno money, and far too many relations\u201d; and indeed the river was quite\nfull of Reeds.  Then, when the autumn came they all flew away.\n\nAfter they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady-love.\n\u201cShe has no conversation,\u201d he said, \u201cand I am afraid that she is a\ncoquette, for she is always flirting with the wind.\u201d  And certainly,\nwhenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtseys.  \u201cI\nadmit that she is domestic,\u201d he continued, \u201cbut I love travelling, and my\nwife, consequently, should love travelling also.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill you come away with me?\u201d he said finally to her; but the Reed shook\nher head, she was so attached to her home.\n\n\u201cYou have been trifling with me,\u201d he cried.  \u201cI am off to the Pyramids.\nGood-bye!\u201d and he flew away.\n\nAll day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city.  \u201cWhere\nshall I put up?\u201d he said; \u201cI hope the town has made preparations.\u201d\n\nThen he saw the statue on the tall column.\n\n\u201cI will put up there,\u201d he cried; \u201cit is a fine position, with plenty of\nfresh air.\u201d  So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.\n\n\u201cI have a golden bedroom,\u201d he said softly to himself as he looked round,\nand he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his head under\nhis wing a large drop of water fell on him.  \u201cWhat a curious thing!\u201d he\ncried; \u201cthere is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear\nand bright, and yet it is raining.  The climate in the north of Europe is\nreally dreadful.  The Reed used to like the rain, but that was merely her\nselfishness.\u201d\n\nThen another drop fell.\n\n\u201cWhat is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?\u201d he said; \u201cI\nmust look for a good chimney-pot,\u201d and he determined to fly away.\n\nBut before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up,\nand saw\u2014Ah! what did he see?\n\nThe eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were\nrunning down his golden cheeks.  His face was so beautiful in the\nmoonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.\n\n\u201cWho are you?\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cI am the Happy Prince.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy are you weeping then?\u201d asked the Swallow; \u201cyou have quite drenched\nme.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen I was alive and had a human heart,\u201d answered the statue, \u201cI did not\nknow what tears were, for I lived in the Palace of Sans-Souci, where\nsorrow is not allowed to enter.  In the daytime I played with my\ncompanions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great\nHall.  Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask\nwhat lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful.  My courtiers\ncalled me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be\nhappiness.  So I lived, and so I died.  And now that I am dead they have\nset me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery\nof my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot chose but\nweep.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat! is he not solid gold?\u201d said the Swallow to himself.  He was too\npolite to make any personal remarks out loud.\n\n\u201cFar away,\u201d continued the statue in a low musical voice, \u201cfar away in a\nlittle street there is a poor house.  One of the windows is open, and\nthrough it I can see a woman seated at a table.  Her face is thin and\nworn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she\nis a seamstress.  She is embroidering passion-flowers on a satin gown for\nthe loveliest of the Queen\u2019s maids-of-honour to wear at the next\nCourt-ball.  In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying\nill.  He has a fever, and is asking for oranges.  His mother has nothing\nto give him but river water, so he is crying.  Swallow, Swallow, little\nSwallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt?  My feet\nare fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am waited for in Egypt,\u201d said the Swallow.  \u201cMy friends are flying up\nand down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus-flowers.  Soon they\nwill go to sleep in the tomb of the great King.  The King is there\nhimself in his painted coffin.  He is wrapped in yellow linen, and\nembalmed with spices.  Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and\nhis hands are like withered leaves.\u201d\n\n\u201cSwallow, Swallow, little Swallow,\u201d said the Prince, \u201cwill you not stay\nwith me for one night, and be my messenger?  The boy is so thirsty, and\nthe mother so sad.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t think I like boys,\u201d answered the Swallow.  \u201cLast summer, when I\nwas staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller\u2019s sons,\nwho were always throwing stones at me.  They never hit me, of course; we\nswallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family\nfamous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of disrespect.\u201d\n\nBut the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry.\n\u201cIt is very cold here,\u201d he said; \u201cbut I will stay with you for one night,\nand be your messenger.\u201d\n\n\u201cThank you, little Swallow,\u201d said the Prince.\n\nSo the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince\u2019s sword, and\nflew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.\n\nHe passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were\nsculptured.  He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing.  A\nbeautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover.  \u201cHow wonderful\nthe stars are,\u201d he said to her, \u201cand how wonderful is the power of love!\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball,\u201d she answered;\n\u201cI have ordered passion-flowers to be embroidered on it; but the\nseamstresses are so lazy.\u201d\n\nHe passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of\nthe ships.  He passed over the Ghetto, and saw the old Jews bargaining\nwith each other, and weighing out money in copper scales.  At last he\ncame to the poor house and looked in.  The boy was tossing feverishly on\nhis bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired.  In he\nhopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman\u2019s thimble.\nThen he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy\u2019s forehead with his\nwings.  \u201cHow cool I feel,\u201d said the boy, \u201cI must be getting better\u201d; and\nhe sank into a delicious slumber.\n\nThen the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had\ndone.  \u201cIt is curious,\u201d he remarked, \u201cbut I feel quite warm now, although\nit is so cold.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is because you have done a good action,\u201d said the Prince.  And the\nlittle Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep.  Thinking always\nmade him sleepy.\n\nWhen day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath.  \u201cWhat a\nremarkable phenomenon,\u201d said the Professor of Ornithology as he was\npassing over the bridge.  \u201cA swallow in winter!\u201d  And he wrote a long\nletter about it to the local newspaper.  Every one quoted it, it was full\nof so many words that they could not understand.\n\n\u201cTo-night I go to Egypt,\u201d said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at\nthe prospect.  He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time\non top of the church steeple.  Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped,\nand said to each other, \u201cWhat a distinguished stranger!\u201d so he enjoyed\nhimself very much.\n\nWhen the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.  \u201cHave you any\ncommissions for Egypt?\u201d he cried; \u201cI am just starting.\u201d\n\n\u201cSwallow, Swallow, little Swallow,\u201d said the Prince, \u201cwill you not stay\nwith me one night longer?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am waited for in Egypt,\u201d answered the Swallow.  \u201cTo-morrow my friends\nwill fly up to the Second Cataract.  The river-horse couches there among\nthe bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon.  All\nnight long he watches the stars, and when the morning star shines he\nutters one cry of joy, and then he is silent.  At noon the yellow lions\ncome down to the water\u2019s edge to drink.  They have eyes like green\nberyls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.\u201d\n\n\u201cSwallow, Swallow, little Swallow,\u201d said the Prince, \u201cfar away across the\ncity I see a young man in a garret.  He is leaning over a desk covered\nwith papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered\nviolets.  His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a\npomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes.  He is trying to finish a\nplay for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any\nmore.  There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will wait with you one night longer,\u201d said the Swallow, who really had\na good heart.  \u201cShall I take him another ruby?\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas!  I have no ruby now,\u201d said the Prince; \u201cmy eyes are all that I\nhave left.  They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of\nIndia a thousand years ago.  Pluck out one of them and take it to him.\nHe will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish\nhis play.\u201d\n\n\u201cDear Prince,\u201d said the Swallow, \u201cI cannot do that\u201d; and he began to\nweep.\n\n\u201cSwallow, Swallow, little Swallow,\u201d said the Prince, \u201cdo as I command\nyou.\u201d\n\nSo the Swallow plucked out the Prince\u2019s eye, and flew away to the\nstudent\u2019s garret.  It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in\nthe roof.  Through this he darted, and came into the room.  The young man\nhad his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the\nbird\u2019s wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying\non the withered violets.\n\n\u201cI am beginning to be appreciated,\u201d he cried; \u201cthis is from some great\nadmirer.  Now I can finish my play,\u201d and he looked quite happy.\n\nThe next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour.  He sat on the mast of\na large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold\nwith ropes.  \u201cHeave a-hoy!\u201d they shouted as each chest came up.  \u201cI am\ngoing to Egypt\u201d! cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon\nrose he flew back to the Happy Prince.\n\n\u201cI am come to bid you good-bye,\u201d he cried.\n\n\u201cSwallow, Swallow, little Swallow,\u201d said the Prince, \u201cwill you not stay\nwith me one night longer?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is winter,\u201d answered the Swallow, \u201cand the chill snow will soon be\nhere.  In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the\ncrocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them.  My companions are\nbuilding a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves\nare watching them, and cooing to each other.  Dear Prince, I must leave\nyou, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back\ntwo beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away.  The ruby\nshall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the\ngreat sea.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn the square below,\u201d said the Happy Prince, \u201cthere stands a little\nmatch-girl.  She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all\nspoiled.  Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money,\nand she is crying.  She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is\nbare.  Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will\nnot beat her.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will stay with you one night longer,\u201d said the Swallow, \u201cbut I cannot\npluck out your eye.  You would be quite blind then.\u201d\n\n\u201cSwallow, Swallow, little Swallow,\u201d said the Prince, \u201cdo as I command\nyou.\u201d\n\nSo he plucked out the Prince\u2019s other eye, and darted down with it.  He\nswooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her\nhand.  \u201cWhat a lovely bit of glass,\u201d cried the little girl; and she ran\nhome, laughing.\n\nThen the Swallow came back to the Prince.  \u201cYou are blind now,\u201d he said,\n\u201cso I will stay with you always.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, little Swallow,\u201d said the poor Prince, \u201cyou must go away to Egypt.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will stay with you always,\u201d said the Swallow, and he slept at the\nPrince\u2019s feet.\n\nAll the next day he sat on the Prince\u2019s shoulder, and told him stories of\nwhat he had seen in strange lands.  He told him of the red ibises, who\nstand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold-fish in their\nbeaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in the\ndesert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the\nside of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King\nof the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a\nlarge crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm-tree, and\nhas twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes; and of the pygmies who\nsail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at war with the\nbutterflies.\n\n\u201cDear little Swallow,\u201d said the Prince, \u201cyou tell me of marvellous\nthings, but more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of\nwomen.  There is no Mystery so great as Misery.  Fly over my city, little\nSwallow, and tell me what you see there.\u201d\n\nSo the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in\ntheir beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates.  He\nflew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children\nlooking out listlessly at the black streets.  Under the archway of a\nbridge two little boys were lying in one another\u2019s arms to try and keep\nthemselves warm.  \u201cHow hungry we are!\u201d they said.  \u201cYou must not lie\nhere,\u201d shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.\n\nThen he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.\n\n\u201cI am covered with fine gold,\u201d said the Prince, \u201cyou must take it off,\nleaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold\ncan make them happy.\u201d\n\nLeaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy\nPrince looked quite dull and grey.  Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he\nbrought to the poor, and the children\u2019s faces grew rosier, and they\nlaughed and played games in the street.  \u201cWe have bread now!\u201d they cried.\n\nThen the snow came, and after the snow came the frost.  The streets\nlooked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and\nglistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of\nthe houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore\nscarlet caps and skated on the ice.\n\nThe poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave\nthe Prince, he loved him too well.  He picked up crumbs outside the\nbaker\u2019s door when the baker was not looking and tried to keep himself\nwarm by flapping his wings.\n\nBut at last he knew that he was going to die.  He had just strength to\nfly up to the Prince\u2019s shoulder once more.  \u201cGood-bye, dear Prince!\u201d he\nmurmured, \u201cwill you let me kiss your hand?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow,\u201d said the\nPrince, \u201cyou have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips,\nfor I love you.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not to Egypt that I am going,\u201d said the Swallow.  \u201cI am going to\nthe House of Death.  Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?\u201d\n\nAnd he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his\nfeet.\n\nAt that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something\nhad broken.  The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped right in two.\nIt certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.\n\nEarly the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in\ncompany with the Town Councillors.  As they passed the column he looked\nup at the statue: \u201cDear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cHow shabby indeed!\u201d cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed with\nthe Mayor; and they went up to look at it.\n\n\u201cThe ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is\ngolden no longer,\u201d said the Mayor in fact, \u201che is little better than a\nbeggar!\u201d\n\n\u201cLittle better than a beggar,\u201d said the Town Councillors.\n\n\u201cAnd here is actually a dead bird at his feet!\u201d continued the Mayor.  \u201cWe\nmust really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die\nhere.\u201d  And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.\n\nSo they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince.  \u201cAs he is no longer\nbeautiful he is no longer useful,\u201d said the Art Professor at the\nUniversity.\n\nThen they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting of\nthe Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal.  \u201cWe must\nhave another statue, of course,\u201d he said, \u201cand it shall be a statue of\nmyself.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf myself,\u201d said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled.\nWhen I last heard of them they were quarrelling still.\n\n\u201cWhat a strange thing!\u201d said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry.\n\u201cThis broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace.  We must throw it\naway.\u201d  So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also\nlying.\n\n\u201cBring me the two most precious things in the city,\u201d said God to one of\nHis Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.\n\n\u201cYou have rightly chosen,\u201d said God, \u201cfor in my garden of Paradise this\nlittle bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy\nPrince shall praise me.\u201d\n\n                [Picture: Decorative graphic of two birds]\n\n\n\n\nThe Nightingale and the Rose.\n\n\n        [Picture: Decorative graphic of young man lying on grass]\n\n\u201cSHE said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses,\u201d cried\nthe young Student; \u201cbut in all my garden there is no red rose.\u201d\n\nFrom her nest in the holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she\nlooked out through the leaves, and wondered.\n\n\u201cNo red rose in all my garden!\u201d he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled\nwith tears.  \u201cAh, on what little things does happiness depend!  I have\nread all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of\nphilosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made\nwretched.\u201d\n\n\u201cHere at last is a true lover,\u201d said the Nightingale.  \u201cNight after night\nhave I sung of him, though I knew him not: night after night have I told\nhis story to the stars, and now I see him.  His hair is dark as the\nhyacinth-blossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but\npassion has made his face like pale ivory, and sorrow has set her seal\nupon his brow.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Prince gives a ball to-morrow night,\u201d murmured the young Student,\n\u201cand my love will be of the company.  If I bring her a red rose she will\ndance with me till dawn.  If I bring her a red rose, I shall hold her in\nmy arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her hand will\nbe clasped in mine.  But there is no red rose in my garden, so I shall\nsit lonely, and she will pass me by.  She will have no heed of me, and my\nheart will break.\u201d\n\n\u201cHere indeed is the true lover,\u201d said the Nightingale.  \u201cWhat I sing of,\nhe suffers\u2014what is joy to me, to him is pain.  Surely Love is a wonderful\nthing.  It is more precious than emeralds, and dearer than fine opals.\nPearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it set forth in the\nmarketplace.  It may not be purchased of the merchants, nor can it be\nweighed out in the balance for gold.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe musicians will sit in their gallery,\u201d said the young Student, \u201cand\nplay upon their stringed instruments, and my love will dance to the sound\nof the harp and the violin.  She will dance so lightly that her feet will\nnot touch the floor, and the courtiers in their gay dresses will throng\nround her.  But with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to\ngive her\u201d; and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in\nhis hands, and wept.\n\n\u201cWhy is he weeping?\u201d asked a little Green Lizard, as he ran past him with\nhis tail in the air.\n\n\u201cWhy, indeed?\u201d said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a\nsunbeam.\n\n\u201cWhy, indeed?\u201d whispered a Daisy to his neighbour, in a soft, low voice.\n\n\u201cHe is weeping for a red rose,\u201d said the Nightingale.\n\n\u201cFor a red rose?\u201d they cried; \u201chow very ridiculous!\u201d and the little\nLizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright.\n\nBut the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student\u2019s sorrow, and\nshe sat silent in the oak-tree, and thought about the mystery of Love.\n\nSuddenly she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air.\nShe passed through the grove like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed\nacross the garden.\n\nIn the centre of the grass-plot was standing a beautiful Rose-tree, and\nwhen she saw it she flew over to it, and lit upon a spray.\n\n\u201cGive me a red rose,\u201d she cried, \u201cand I will sing you my sweetest song.\u201d\n\nBut the Tree shook its head.\n\n\u201cMy roses are white,\u201d it answered; \u201cas white as the foam of the sea, and\nwhiter than the snow upon the mountain.  But go to my brother who grows\nround the old sun-dial, and perhaps he will give you what you want.\u201d\n\nSo the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the\nold sun-dial.\n\n\u201cGive me a red rose,\u201d she cried, \u201cand I will sing you my sweetest song.\u201d\n\nBut the Tree shook its head.\n\n\u201cMy roses are yellow,\u201d it answered; \u201cas yellow as the hair of the\nmermaiden who sits upon an amber throne, and yellower than the daffodil\nthat blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with his scythe.  But go\nto my brother who grows beneath the Student\u2019s window, and perhaps he will\ngive you what you want.\u201d\n\nSo the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath\nthe Student\u2019s window.\n\n\u201cGive me a red rose,\u201d she cried, \u201cand I will sing you my sweetest song.\u201d\n\nBut the Tree shook its head.\n\n\u201cMy roses are red,\u201d it answered, \u201cas red as the feet of the dove, and\nredder than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the\nocean-cavern.  But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has\nnipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I shall have no\nroses at all this year.\u201d\n\n\u201cOne red rose is all I want,\u201d cried the Nightingale, \u201conly one red rose!\nIs there no way by which I can get it?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is a way,\u201d answered the Tree; \u201cbut it is so terrible that I dare\nnot tell it to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell it to me,\u201d said the Nightingale, \u201cI am not afraid.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you want a red rose,\u201d said the Tree, \u201cyou must build it out of music\nby moonlight, and stain it with your own heart\u2019s-blood.  You must sing to\nme with your breast against a thorn.  All night long you must sing to me,\nand the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into\nmy veins, and become mine.\u201d\n\n\u201cDeath is a great price to pay for a red rose,\u201d cried the Nightingale,\n\u201cand Life is very dear to all.  It is pleasant to sit in the green wood,\nand to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot\nof pearl.  Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the\nbluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the\nhill.  Yet Love is better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird\ncompared to the heart of a man?\u201d\n\nSo she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air.  She\nswept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through\nthe grove.\n\nThe young Student was still lying on the grass, where she had left him,\nand the tears were not yet dry in his beautiful eyes.\n\n\u201cBe happy,\u201d cried the Nightingale, \u201cbe happy; you shall have your red\nrose.  I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my\nown heart\u2019s-blood.  All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a\ntrue lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, though she is wise, and\nmightier than Power, though he is mighty.  Flame-coloured are his wings,\nand coloured like flame is his body.  His lips are sweet as honey, and\nhis breath is like frankincense.\u201d\n\nThe Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could not\nunderstand what the Nightingale was saying to him, for he only knew the\nthings that are written down in books.\n\nBut the Oak-tree understood, and felt sad, for he was very fond of the\nlittle Nightingale who had built her nest in his branches.\n\n\u201cSing me one last song,\u201d he whispered; \u201cI shall feel very lonely when you\nare gone.\u201d\n\nSo the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water\nbubbling from a silver jar.\n\nWhen she had finished her song the Student got up, and pulled a note-book\nand a lead-pencil out of his pocket.\n\n\u201cShe has form,\u201d he said to himself, as he walked away through the\ngrove\u2014\u201cthat cannot be denied to her; but has she got feeling?  I am\nafraid not.  In fact, she is like most artists; she is all style, without\nany sincerity.  She would not sacrifice herself for others.  She thinks\nmerely of music, and everybody knows that the arts are selfish.  Still,\nit must be admitted that she has some beautiful notes in her voice.  What\na pity it is that they do not mean anything, or do any practical good.\u201d\nAnd he went into his room, and lay down on his little pallet-bed, and\nbegan to think of his love; and, after a time, he fell asleep.\n\nAnd when the Moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the\nRose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn.  All night long she sang\nwith her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down\nand listened.  All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper and\ndeeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.\n\nShe sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl.\nAnd on the top-most spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvellous\nrose, petal following petal, as song followed song.  Pale was it, at\nfirst, as the mist that hangs over the river\u2014pale as the feet of the\nmorning, and silver as the wings of the dawn.  As the shadow of a rose in\na mirror of silver, as the shadow of a rose in a water-pool, so was the\nrose that blossomed on the topmost spray of the Tree.\n\nBut the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn.\n\u201cPress closer, little Nightingale,\u201d cried the Tree, \u201cor the Day will come\nbefore the rose is finished.\u201d\n\nSo the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and\nlouder grew her song, for she sang of the birth of passion in the soul of\na man and a maid.\n\nAnd a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the\nflush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses the lips of the bride.\nBut the thorn had not yet reached her heart, so the rose\u2019s heart remained\nwhite, for only a Nightingale\u2019s heart\u2019s-blood can crimson the heart of a\nrose.\n\nAnd the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn.\n\u201cPress closer, little Nightingale,\u201d cried the Tree, \u201cor the Day will come\nbefore the rose is finished.\u201d\n\nSo the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn\ntouched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her.  Bitter,\nbitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of\nthe Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the\ntomb.\n\nAnd the marvellous rose became crimson, like the rose of the eastern sky.\nCrimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart.\n\nBut the Nightingale\u2019s voice grew fainter, and her little wings began to\nbeat, and a film came over her eyes.  Fainter and fainter grew her song,\nand she felt something choking her in her throat.\n\nThen she gave one last burst of music.  The white Moon heard it, and she\nforgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky.  The red rose heard it, and\nit trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals to the cold\nmorning air.  Echo bore it to her purple cavern in the hills, and woke\nthe sleeping shepherds from their dreams.  It floated through the reeds\nof the river, and they carried its message to the sea.\n\n\u201cLook, look!\u201d cried the Tree, \u201cthe rose is finished now\u201d; but the\nNightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass,\nwith the thorn in her heart.\n\nAnd at noon the Student opened his window and looked out.\n\n\u201cWhy, what a wonderful piece of luck!\u201d he cried; \u201chere is a red rose!  I\nhave never seen any rose like it in all my life.  It is so beautiful that\nI am sure it has a long Latin name\u201d; and he leaned down and plucked it.\n\nThen he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor\u2019s house with the rose\nin his hand.\n\nThe daughter of the Professor was sitting in the doorway winding blue\nsilk on a reel, and her little dog was lying at her feet.\n\n\u201cYou said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose,\u201d\ncried the Student.  \u201cHere is the reddest rose in all the world.  You will\nwear it to-night next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell\nyou how I love you.\u201d\n\nBut the girl frowned.\n\n\u201cI am afraid it will not go with my dress,\u201d she answered; \u201cand, besides,\nthe Chamberlain\u2019s nephew has sent me some real jewels, and everybody\nknows that jewels cost far more than flowers.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, upon my word, you are very ungrateful,\u201d said the Student angrily;\nand he threw the rose into the street, where it fell into the gutter, and\na cart-wheel went over it.\n\n\u201cUngrateful!\u201d said the girl.  \u201cI tell you what, you are very rude; and,\nafter all, who are you?  Only a Student.  Why, I don\u2019t believe you have\neven got silver buckles to your shoes as the Chamberlain\u2019s nephew has\u201d;\nand she got up from her chair and went into the house.\n\n\u201cWhat a silly thing Love is,\u201d said the Student as he walked away.  \u201cIt\nis not half as useful as Logic, for it does not prove anything, and it is\nalways telling one of things that are not going to happen, and making one\nbelieve things that are not true.  In fact, it is quite unpractical, and,\nas in this age to be practical is everything, I shall go back to\nPhilosophy and study Metaphysics.\u201d\n\nSo he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began\nto read.\n\n          [Picture: Decorative graphic of nightingale and rose]\n\n\n\n\nThe Selfish Giant.\n\n\n                       [Picture: The Selfish Giant]\n\nEVERY afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to go\nand play in the Giant\u2019s garden.\n\nIt was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass.  Here and there over\nthe grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve\npeach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of\npink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit.  The birds sat on the\ntrees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in\norder to listen to them.  \u201cHow happy we are here!\u201d they cried to each\nother.\n\n           [Picture: Decorative graphic of children in garden]\n\nOne day the Giant came back.  He had been to visit his friend the Cornish\nogre, and had stayed with him for seven years.  After the seven years\nwere over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation was\nlimited, and he determined to return to his own castle.  When he arrived\nhe saw the children playing in the garden.\n\n\u201cWhat are you doing here?\u201d he cried in a very gruff voice, and the\nchildren ran away.\n\n\u201cMy own garden is my own garden,\u201d said the Giant; \u201cany one can understand\nthat, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself.\u201d  So he built a\nhigh wall all round it, and put up a notice-board.\n\n          TRESPASSERS\n\n            WILL BE\n\n           PROSECUTED\n\nHe was a very selfish Giant.\n\nThe poor children had now nowhere to play.  They tried to play on the\nroad, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did\nnot like it.  They used to wander round the high wall when their lessons\nwere over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside.  \u201cHow happy we\nwere there,\u201d they said to each other.\n\nThen the Spring came, and all over the country there were little blossoms\nand little birds.  Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still\nwinter.  The birds did not care to sing in it as there were no children,\nand the trees forgot to blossom.  Once a beautiful flower put its head\nout from the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry for\nthe children that it slipped back into the ground again, and went off to\nsleep.  The only people who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost.\n\u201cSpring has forgotten this garden,\u201d they cried, \u201cso we will live here all\nthe year round.\u201d  The Snow covered up the grass with her great white\ncloak, and the Frost painted all the trees silver.  Then they invited the\nNorth Wind to stay with them, and he came.  He was wrapped in furs, and\nhe roared all day about the garden, and blew the chimney-pots down.\n\u201cThis is a delightful spot,\u201d he said, \u201cwe must ask the Hail on a visit.\u201d\nSo the Hail came.  Every day for three hours he rattled on the roof of\nthe castle till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round and\nround the garden as fast as he could go.  He was dressed in grey, and his\nbreath was like ice.\n\n\u201cI cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming,\u201d said the\nSelfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold white\ngarden; \u201cI hope there will be a change in the weather.\u201d\n\nBut the Spring never came, nor the Summer.  The Autumn gave golden fruit\nto every garden, but to the Giant\u2019s garden she gave none.  \u201cHe is too\nselfish,\u201d she said.  So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind,\nand the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees.\n\nOne morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely\nmusic.  It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it must be the\nKing\u2019s musicians passing by.  It was really only a little linnet singing\noutside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in\nhis garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the\nworld.  Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind\nceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open\ncasement.  \u201cI believe the Spring has come at last,\u201d said the Giant; and\nhe jumped out of bed and looked out.\n\nWhat did he see?\n\nHe saw a most wonderful sight.  Through a little hole in the wall the\nchildren had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of the\ntrees.  In every tree that he could see there was a little child.  And\nthe trees were so glad to have the children back again that they had\ncovered themselves with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above\nthe children\u2019s heads.  The birds were flying about and twittering with\ndelight, and the flowers were looking up through the green grass and\nlaughing.  It was a lovely scene, only in one corner it was still winter.\nIt was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little\nboy.  He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the\ntree, and he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly.  The poor tree\nwas still quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was\nblowing and roaring above it.  \u201cClimb up! little boy,\u201d said the Tree, and\nit bent its branches down as low as it could; but the boy was too tiny.\n\nAnd the Giant\u2019s heart melted as he looked out.  \u201cHow selfish I have\nbeen!\u201d he said; \u201cnow I know why the Spring would not come here.  I will\nput that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock\ndown the wall, and my garden shall be the children\u2019s playground for ever\nand ever.\u201d  He was really very sorry for what he had done.\n\nSo he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite softly, and went\nout into the garden.  But when the children saw him they were so\nfrightened that they all ran away, and the garden became winter again.\nOnly the little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that\nhe did not see the Giant coming.  And the Giant stole up behind him and\ntook him gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree.  And the tree\nbroke at once into blossom, and the birds came and sang on it, and the\nlittle boy stretched out his two arms and flung them round the Giant\u2019s\nneck, and kissed him.  And the other children, when they saw that the\nGiant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and with them came\nthe Spring.  \u201cIt is your garden now, little children,\u201d said the Giant,\nand he took a great axe and knocked down the wall.  And when the people\nwere going to market at twelve o\u2019clock they found the Giant playing with\nthe children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen.\n\nAll day long they played, and in the evening they came to the Giant to\nbid him good-bye.\n\n\u201cBut where is your little companion?\u201d he said: \u201cthe boy I put into the\ntree.\u201d  The Giant loved him the best because he had kissed him.\n\n\u201cWe don\u2019t know,\u201d answered the children; \u201che has gone away.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou must tell him to be sure and come here to-morrow,\u201d said the Giant.\nBut the children said that they did not know where he lived, and had\nnever seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad.\n\nEvery afternoon, when school was over, the children came and played with\nthe Giant.  But the little boy whom the Giant loved was never seen again.\nThe Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his first\nlittle friend, and often spoke of him.  \u201cHow I would like to see him!\u201d he\nused to say.\n\nYears went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble.  He could not\nplay about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair, and watched the\nchildren at their games, and admired his garden.  \u201cI have many beautiful\nflowers,\u201d he said; \u201cbut the children are the most beautiful flowers of\nall.\u201d\n\nOne winter morning he looked out of his window as he was dressing.  He\ndid not hate the Winter now, for he knew that it was merely the Spring\nasleep, and that the flowers were resting.\n\nSuddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and looked.  It\ncertainly was a marvellous sight.  In the farthest corner of the garden\nwas a tree quite covered with lovely white blossoms.  Its branches were\nall golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood\nthe little boy he had loved.\n\nDownstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out into the garden.  He\nhastened across the grass, and came near to the child.  And when he came\nquite close his face grew red with anger, and he said, \u201cWho hath dared to\nwound thee?\u201d  For on the palms of the child\u2019s hands were the prints of\ntwo nails, and the prints of two nails were on the little feet.\n\n\u201cWho hath dared to wound thee?\u201d cried the Giant; \u201ctell me, that I may\ntake my big sword and slay him.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay!\u201d answered the child; \u201cbut these are the wounds of Love.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho art thou?\u201d said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he\nknelt before the little child.\n\nAnd the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, \u201cYou let me play once\nin your garden, to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which is\nParadise.\u201d\n\nAnd when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying\ndead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.\n\n                 [Picture: Decorative graphic of wreath]\n\n\n\n\nThe Devoted Friend.\n\n\n                      [Picture: Hans and the Miller]\n\nONE morning the old Water-rat put his head out of his hole.  He had\nbright beady eyes and stiff grey whiskers and his tail was like a long\nbit of black india-rubber.  The little ducks were swimming about in the\npond, looking just like a lot of yellow canaries, and their mother, who\nwas pure white with real red legs, was trying to teach them how to stand\non their heads in the water.\n\n\u201cYou will never be in the best society unless you can stand on your\nheads,\u201d she kept saying to them; and every now and then she showed them\nhow it was done.  But the little ducks paid no attention to her.  They\nwere so young that they did not know what an advantage it is to be in\nsociety at all.\n\n\u201cWhat disobedient children!\u201d cried the old Water-rat; \u201cthey really\ndeserve to be drowned.\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing of the kind,\u201d answered the Duck, \u201cevery one must make a\nbeginning, and parents cannot be too patient.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! I know nothing about the feelings of parents,\u201d said the Water-rat;\n\u201cI am not a family man.  In fact, I have never been married, and I never\nintend to be.  Love is all very well in its way, but friendship is much\nhigher.  Indeed, I know of nothing in the world that is either nobler or\nrarer than a devoted friendship.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what, pray, is your idea of the duties of a devoted friend?\u201d asked a\nGreen Linnet, who was sitting in a willow-tree hard by, and had overheard\nthe conversation.\n\n\u201cYes, that is just what I want to know,\u201d said the Duck; and she swam away\nto the end of the pond, and stood upon her head, in order to give her\nchildren a good example.\n\n\u201cWhat a silly question!\u201d cried the Water-rat.  \u201cI should expect my\ndevoted friend to be devoted to me, of course.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what would you do in return?\u201d said the little bird, swinging upon a\nsilver spray, and flapping his tiny wings.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t understand you,\u201d answered the Water-rat.\n\n\u201cLet me tell you a story on the subject,\u201d said the Linnet.\n\n\u201cIs the story about me?\u201d asked the Water-rat.  \u201cIf so, I will listen to\nit, for I am extremely fond of fiction.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is applicable to you,\u201d answered the Linnet; and he flew down, and\nalighting upon the bank, he told the story of The Devoted Friend.\n\n\u201cOnce upon a time,\u201d said the Linnet, \u201cthere was an honest little fellow\nnamed Hans.\u201d\n\n\u201cWas he very distinguished?\u201d asked the Water-rat.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d answered the Linnet, \u201cI don\u2019t think he was distinguished at all,\nexcept for his kind heart, and his funny round good-humoured face.  He\nlived in a tiny cottage all by himself, and every day he worked in his\ngarden.  In all the country-side there was no garden so lovely as his.\nSweet-william grew there, and Gilly-flowers, and Shepherds\u2019-purses, and\nFair-maids of France.  There were damask Roses, and yellow Roses, lilac\nCrocuses, and gold, purple Violets and white.  Columbine and Ladysmock,\nMarjoram and Wild Basil, the Cowslip and the Flower-de-luce, the Daffodil\nand the Clove-Pink bloomed or blossomed in their proper order as the\nmonths went by, one flower taking another flower\u2019s place, so that there\nwere always beautiful things to look at, and pleasant odours to smell.\n\n\u201cLittle Hans had a great many friends, but the most devoted friend of all\nwas big Hugh the Miller.  Indeed, so devoted was the rich Miller to\nlittle Hans, that he would never go by his garden without leaning over\nthe wall and plucking a large nosegay, or a handful of sweet herbs, or\nfilling his pockets with plums and cherries if it was the fruit season.\n\n\u201c\u2018Real friends should have everything in common,\u2019 the Miller used to say,\nand little Hans nodded and smiled, and felt very proud of having a friend\nwith such noble ideas.\n\n\u201cSometimes, indeed, the neighbours thought it strange that the rich\nMiller never gave little Hans anything in return, though he had a hundred\nsacks of flour stored away in his mill, and six milch cows, and a large\nflock of woolly sheep; but Hans never troubled his head about these\nthings, and nothing gave him greater pleasure than to listen to all the\nwonderful things the Miller used to say about the unselfishness of true\nfriendship.\n\n\u201cSo little Hans worked away in his garden.  During the spring, the\nsummer, and the autumn he was very happy, but when the winter came, and\nhe had no fruit or flowers to bring to the market, he suffered a good\ndeal from cold and hunger, and often had to go to bed without any supper\nbut a few dried pears or some hard nuts.  In the winter, also, he was\nextremely lonely, as the Miller never came to see him then.\n\n\u201c\u2018There is no good in my going to see little Hans as long as the snow\nlasts,\u2019 the Miller used to say to his wife, \u2018for when people are in\ntrouble they should be left alone, and not be bothered by visitors.  That\nat least is my idea about friendship, and I am sure I am right.  So I\nshall wait till the spring comes, and then I shall pay him a visit, and\nhe will be able to give me a large basket of primroses and that will make\nhim so happy.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018You are certainly very thoughtful about others,\u2019 answered the Wife, as\nshe sat in her comfortable armchair by the big pinewood fire; \u2018very\nthoughtful indeed.  It is quite a treat to hear you talk about\nfriendship.  I am sure the clergyman himself could not say such beautiful\nthings as you do, though he does live in a three-storied house, and wear\na gold ring on his little finger.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018But could we not ask little Hans up here?\u2019 said the Miller\u2019s youngest\nson.  \u2018If poor Hans is in trouble I will give him half my porridge, and\nshow him my white rabbits.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018What a silly boy you are!\u2019 cried the Miller; \u2018I really don\u2019t know what\nis the use of sending you to school.  You seem not to learn anything.\nWhy, if little Hans came up here, and saw our warm fire, and our good\nsupper, and our great cask of red wine, he might get envious, and envy is\na most terrible thing, and would spoil anybody\u2019s nature.  I certainly\nwill not allow Hans\u2019 nature to be spoiled.  I am his best friend, and I\nwill always watch over him, and see that he is not led into any\ntemptations.  Besides, if Hans came here, he might ask me to let him have\nsome flour on credit, and that I could not do.  Flour is one thing, and\nfriendship is another, and they should not be confused.  Why, the words\nare spelt differently, and mean quite different things.  Everybody can\nsee that.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018How well you talk!\u2019 said the Miller\u2019s Wife, pouring herself out a large\nglass of warm ale; \u2018really I feel quite drowsy.  It is just like being in\nchurch.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Lots of people act well,\u2019 answered the Miller; \u2018but very few people\ntalk well, which shows that talking is much the more difficult thing of\nthe two, and much the finer thing also\u2019; and he looked sternly across the\ntable at his little son, who felt so ashamed of himself that he hung his\nhead down, and grew quite scarlet, and began to cry into his tea.\nHowever, he was so young that you must excuse him.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs that the end of the story?\u201d asked the Water-rat.\n\n\u201cCertainly not,\u201d answered the Linnet, \u201cthat is the beginning.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you are quite behind the age,\u201d said the Water-rat.  \u201cEvery good\nstory-teller nowadays starts with the end, and then goes on to the\nbeginning, and concludes with the middle.  That is the new method.  I\nheard all about it the other day from a critic who was walking round the\npond with a young man.  He spoke of the matter at great length, and I am\nsure he must have been right, for he had blue spectacles and a bald head,\nand whenever the young man made any remark, he always answered \u2018Pooh!\u2019\nBut pray go on with your story.  I like the Miller immensely.  I have all\nkinds of beautiful sentiments myself, so there is a great sympathy\nbetween us.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said the Linnet, hopping now on one leg and now on the other, \u201cas\nsoon as the winter was over, and the primroses began to open their pale\nyellow stars, the Miller said to his wife that he would go down and see\nlittle Hans.\n\n\u201c\u2018Why, what a good heart you have!\u2019 cried his Wife; \u2018you are always\nthinking of others.  And mind you take the big basket with you for the\nflowers.\u2019\n\n\u201cSo the Miller tied the sails of the windmill together with a strong iron\nchain, and went down the hill with the basket on his arm.\n\n\u201c\u2018Good morning, little Hans,\u2019 said the Miller.\n\n\u201c\u2018Good morning,\u2019 said Hans, leaning on his spade, and smiling from ear to\near.\n\n\u201c\u2018And how have you been all the winter?\u2019 said the Miller.\n\n\u201c\u2018Well, really,\u2019 cried Hans, \u2018it is very good of you to ask, very good\nindeed.  I am afraid I had rather a hard time of it, but now the spring\nhas come, and I am quite happy, and all my flowers are doing well.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018We often talked of you during the winter, Hans,\u2019 said the Miller, \u2018and\nwondered how you were getting on.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018That was kind of you,\u2019 said Hans; \u2018I was half afraid you had forgotten\nme.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Hans, I am surprised at you,\u2019 said the Miller; \u2018friendship never\nforgets.  That is the wonderful thing about it, but I am afraid you don\u2019t\nunderstand the poetry of life.  How lovely your primroses are looking,\nby-the-bye!\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2018They are certainly very lovely,\u2019 said Hans, \u2018and it is a most lucky\nthing for me that I have so many.  I am going to bring them into the\nmarket and sell them to the Burgomaster\u2019s daughter, and buy back my\nwheelbarrow with the money.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Buy back your wheelbarrow?  You don\u2019t mean to say you have sold it?\nWhat a very stupid thing to do!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Well, the fact is,\u2019 said Hans, \u2018that I was obliged to.  You see the\nwinter was a very bad time for me, and I really had no money at all to\nbuy bread with.  So I first sold the silver buttons off my Sunday coat,\nand then I sold my silver chain, and then I sold my big pipe, and at last\nI sold my wheelbarrow.  But I am going to buy them all back again now.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Hans,\u2019 said the Miller, \u2018I will give you my wheelbarrow.  It is not in\nvery good repair; indeed, one side is gone, and there is something wrong\nwith the wheel-spokes; but in spite of that I will give it to you.  I\nknow it is very generous of me, and a great many people would think me\nextremely foolish for parting with it, but I am not like the rest of the\nworld.  I think that generosity is the essence of friendship, and,\nbesides, I have got a new wheelbarrow for myself.  Yes, you may set your\nmind at ease, I will give you my wheelbarrow.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Well, really, that is generous of you,\u2019 said little Hans, and his funny\nround face glowed all over with pleasure.  \u2018I can easily put it in\nrepair, as I have a plank of wood in the house.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018A plank of wood!\u2019 said the Miller; \u2018why, that is just what I want for\nthe roof of my barn.  There is a very large hole in it, and the corn will\nall get damp if I don\u2019t stop it up.  How lucky you mentioned it!  It is\nquite remarkable how one good action always breeds another.  I have given\nyou my wheelbarrow, and now you are going to give me your plank.  Of\ncourse, the wheelbarrow is worth far more than the plank, but true,\nfriendship never notices things like that.  Pray get it at once, and I\nwill set to work at my barn this very day.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Certainly,\u2019 cried little Hans, and he ran into the shed and dragged the\nplank out.\n\n\u201c\u2018It is not a very big plank,\u2019 said the Miller, looking at it, \u2018and I am\nafraid that after I have mended my barn-roof there won\u2019t be any left for\nyou to mend the wheelbarrow with; but, of course, that is not my fault.\nAnd now, as I have given you my wheelbarrow, I am sure you would like to\ngive me some flowers in return.  Here is the basket, and mind you fill it\nquite full.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Quite full?\u2019 said little Hans, rather sorrowfully, for it was really a\nvery big basket, and he knew that if he filled it he would have no\nflowers left for the market and he was very anxious to get his silver\nbuttons back.\n\n\u201c\u2018Well, really,\u2019 answered the Miller, \u2018as I have given you my\nwheelbarrow, I don\u2019t think that it is much to ask you for a few flowers.\nI may be wrong, but I should have thought that friendship, true\nfriendship, was quite free from selfishness of any kind.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018My dear friend, my best friend,\u2019 cried little Hans, \u2018you are welcome to\nall the flowers in my garden.  I would much sooner have your good opinion\nthan my silver buttons, any day\u2019; and he ran and plucked all his pretty\nprimroses, and filled the Miller\u2019s basket.\n\n\u201c\u2018Good-bye, little Hans,\u2019 said the Miller, as he went up the hill with\nthe plank on his shoulder, and the big basket in his hand.\n\n\u201c\u2018Good-bye,\u2019 said little Hans, and he began to dig away quite merrily, he\nwas so pleased about the wheelbarrow.\n\n\u201cThe next day he was nailing up some honeysuckle against the porch, when\nhe heard the Miller\u2019s voice calling to him from the road.  So he jumped\noff the ladder, and ran down the garden, and looked over the wall.\n\n\u201cThere was the Miller with a large sack of flour on his back.\n\n\u201c\u2018Dear little Hans,\u2019 said the Miller, \u2018would you mind carrying this sack\nof flour for me to market?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Oh, I am so sorry,\u2019 said Hans, \u2018but I am really very busy to-day.  I\nhave got all my creepers to nail up, and all my flowers to water, and all\nmy grass to roll.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Well, really,\u2019 said the Miller, \u2018I think that, considering that I am\ngoing to give you my wheelbarrow, it is rather unfriendly of you to\nrefuse.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Oh, don\u2019t say that,\u2019 cried little Hans, \u2018I wouldn\u2019t be unfriendly for\nthe whole world\u2019; and he ran in for his cap, and trudged off with the big\nsack on his shoulders.\n\n\u201cIt was a very hot day, and the road was terribly dusty, and before Hans\nhad reached the sixth milestone he was so tired that he had to sit down\nand rest.  However, he went on bravely, and as last he reached the\nmarket.  After he had waited there some time, he sold the sack of flour\nfor a very good price, and then he returned home at once, for he was\nafraid that if he stopped too late he might meet some robbers on the way.\n\n\u201c\u2018It has certainly been a hard day,\u2019 said little Hans to himself as he\nwas going to bed, \u2018but I am glad I did not refuse the Miller, for he is\nmy best friend, and, besides, he is going to give me his wheelbarrow.\u2019\n\n\u201cEarly the next morning the Miller came down to get the money for his\nsack of flour, but little Hans was so tired that he was still in bed.\n\n\u201c\u2018Upon my word,\u2019 said the Miller, \u2018you are very lazy.  Really,\nconsidering that I am going to give you my wheelbarrow, I think you might\nwork harder.  Idleness is a great sin, and I certainly don\u2019t like any of\nmy friends to be idle or sluggish.  You must not mind my speaking quite\nplainly to you.  Of course I should not dream of doing so if I were not\nyour friend.  But what is the good of friendship if one cannot say\nexactly what one means?  Anybody can say charming things and try to\nplease and to flatter, but a true friend always says unpleasant things,\nand does not mind giving pain.  Indeed, if he is a really true friend he\nprefers it, for he knows that then he is doing good.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I am very sorry,\u2019 said little Hans, rubbing his eyes and pulling off\nhis night-cap, \u2018but I was so tired that I thought I would lie in bed for\na little time, and listen to the birds singing.  Do you know that I\nalways work better after hearing the birds sing?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Well, I am glad of that,\u2019 said the Miller, clapping little Hans on the\nback, \u2018for I want you to come up to the mill as soon as you are dressed,\nand mend my barn-roof for me.\u2019\n\n\u201cPoor little Hans was very anxious to go and work in his garden, for his\nflowers had not been watered for two days, but he did not like to refuse\nthe Miller, as he was such a good friend to him.\n\n\u201c\u2018Do you think it would be unfriendly of me if I said I was busy?\u2019 he\ninquired in a shy and timid voice.\n\n\u201c\u2018Well, really,\u2019 answered the Miller, \u2018I do not think it is much to ask\nof you, considering that I am going to give you my wheelbarrow; but of\ncourse if you refuse I will go and do it myself.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Oh! on no account,\u2019 cried little Hans and he jumped out of bed, and\ndressed himself, and went up to the barn.\n\n\u201cHe worked there all day long, till sunset, and at sunset the Miller came\nto see how he was getting on.\n\n\u201c\u2018Have you mended the hole in the roof yet, little Hans?\u2019 cried the\nMiller in a cheery voice.\n\n\u201c\u2018It is quite mended,\u2019 answered little Hans, coming down the ladder.\n\n\u201c\u2018Ah!\u2019 said the Miller, \u2018there is no work so delightful as the work one\ndoes for others.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018It is certainly a great privilege to hear you talk,\u2019 answered little\nHans, sitting down, and wiping his forehead, \u2018a very great privilege.\nBut I am afraid I shall never have such beautiful ideas as you have.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Oh! they will come to you,\u2019 said the Miller, \u2018but you must take more\npains.  At present you have only the practice of friendship; some day you\nwill have the theory also.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Do you really think I shall?\u2019 asked little Hans.\n\n\u201c\u2018I have no doubt of it,\u2019 answered the Miller, \u2018but now that you have\nmended the roof, you had better go home and rest, for I want you to drive\nmy sheep to the mountain to-morrow.\u2019\n\n\u201cPoor little Hans was afraid to say anything to this, and early the next\nmorning the Miller brought his sheep round to the cottage, and Hans\nstarted off with them to the mountain.  It took him the whole day to get\nthere and back; and when he returned he was so tired that he went off to\nsleep in his chair, and did not wake up till it was broad daylight.\n\n\u201c\u2018What a delightful time I shall have in my garden,\u2019 he said, and he went\nto work at once.\n\n\u201cBut somehow he was never able to look after his flowers at all, for his\nfriend the Miller was always coming round and sending him off on long\nerrands, or getting him to help at the mill.  Little Hans was very much\ndistressed at times, as he was afraid his flowers would think he had\nforgotten them, but he consoled himself by the reflection that the Miller\nwas his best friend.  \u2018Besides,\u2019 he used to say, \u2018he is going to give me\nhis wheelbarrow, and that is an act of pure generosity.\u2019\n\n\u201cSo little Hans worked away for the Miller, and the Miller said all kinds\nof beautiful things about friendship, which Hans took down in a\nnote-book, and used to read over at night, for he was a very good\nscholar.\n\n\u201cNow it happened that one evening little Hans was sitting by his fireside\nwhen a loud rap came at the door.  It was a very wild night, and the wind\nwas blowing and roaring round the house so terribly that at first he\nthought it was merely the storm.  But a second rap came, and then a\nthird, louder than any of the others.\n\n\u201c\u2018It is some poor traveller,\u2019 said little Hans to himself, and he ran to\nthe door.\n\n\u201cThere stood the Miller with a lantern in one hand and a big stick in the\nother.\n\n\u201c\u2018Dear little Hans,\u2019 cried the Miller, \u2018I am in great trouble.  My little\nboy has fallen off a ladder and hurt himself, and I am going for the\nDoctor.  But he lives so far away, and it is such a bad night, that it\nhas just occurred to me that it would be much better if you went instead\nof me.  You know I am going to give you my wheelbarrow, and so, it is\nonly fair that you should do something for me in return.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Certainly,\u2019 cried little Hans, \u2018I take it quite as a compliment your\ncoming to me, and I will start off at once.  But you must lend me your\nlantern, as the night is so dark that I am afraid I might fall into the\nditch.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I am very sorry,\u2019 answered the Miller, \u2018but it is my new lantern, and\nit would be a great loss to me if anything happened to it.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Well, never mind, I will do without it,\u2019 cried little Hans, and he took\ndown his great fur coat, and his warm scarlet cap, and tied a muffler\nround his throat, and started off.\n\n\u201cWhat a dreadful storm it was!  The night was so black that little Hans\ncould hardly see, and the wind was so strong that he could scarcely\nstand.  However, he was very courageous, and after he had been walking\nabout three hours, he arrived at the Doctor\u2019s house, and knocked at the\ndoor.\n\n\u201c\u2018Who is there?\u2019 cried the Doctor, putting his head out of his bedroom\nwindow.\n\n\u201c\u2018Little Hans, Doctor.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2019What do you want, little Hans?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018The Miller\u2019s son has fallen from a ladder, and has hurt himself, and\nthe Miller wants you to come at once.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018All right!\u2019 said the Doctor; and he ordered his horse, and his big\nboots, and his lantern, and came downstairs, and rode off in the\ndirection of the Miller\u2019s house, little Hans trudging behind him.\n\n\u201cBut the storm grew worse and worse, and the rain fell in torrents, and\nlittle Hans could not see where he was going, or keep up with the horse.\nAt last he lost his way, and wandered off on the moor, which was a very\ndangerous place, as it was full of deep holes, and there poor little Hans\nwas drowned.  His body was found the next day by some goatherds, floating\nin a great pool of water, and was brought back by them to the cottage.\n\n\u201cEverybody went to little Hans\u2019 funeral, as he was so popular, and the\nMiller was the chief mourner.\n\n\u201c\u2018As I was his best friend,\u2019 said the Miller, \u2018it is only fair that I\nshould have the best place\u2019; so he walked at the head of the procession\nin a long black cloak, and every now and then he wiped his eyes with a\nbig pocket-handkerchief.\n\n\u201c\u2018Little Hans is certainly a great loss to every one,\u2019 said the\nBlacksmith, when the funeral was over, and they were all seated\ncomfortably in the inn, drinking spiced wine and eating sweet cakes.\n\n\u201c\u2018A great loss to me at any rate,\u2019 answered the Miller; \u2018why, I had as\ngood as given him my wheelbarrow, and now I really don\u2019t know what to do\nwith it.  It is very much in my way at home, and it is in such bad repair\nthat I could not get anything for it if I sold it.  I will certainly take\ncare not to give away anything again.  One always suffers for being\ngenerous.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cWell?\u201d said the Water-rat, after a long pause.\n\n\u201cWell, that is the end,\u201d said the Linnet.\n\n\u201cBut what became of the Miller?\u201d asked the Water-rat.\n\n\u201cOh!  I really don\u2019t know,\u201d replied the Linnet; \u201cand I am sure that I\ndon\u2019t care.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is quite evident then that you have no sympathy in your nature,\u201d said\nthe Water-rat.\n\n\u201cI am afraid you don\u2019t quite see the moral of the story,\u201d remarked the\nLinnet.\n\n\u201cThe what?\u201d screamed the Water-rat.\n\n\u201cThe moral.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you mean to say that the story has a moral?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly,\u201d said the Linnet.\n\n\u201cWell, really,\u201d said the Water-rat, in a very angry manner, \u201cI think you\nshould have told me that before you began.  If you had done so, I\ncertainly would not have listened to you; in fact, I should have said\n\u2018Pooh,\u2019 like the critic.  However, I can say it now\u201d; so he shouted out\n\u201cPooh\u201d at the top of his voice, gave a whisk with his tail, and went back\ninto his hole.\n\n\u201cAnd how do you like the Water-rat?\u201d asked the Duck, who came paddling up\nsome minutes afterwards.  \u201cHe has a great many good points, but for my\nown part I have a mother\u2019s feelings, and I can never look at a confirmed\nbachelor without the tears coming into my eyes.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am rather afraid that I have annoyed him,\u201d answered the Linnet.  \u201cThe\nfact is, that I told him a story with a moral.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! that is always a very dangerous thing to do,\u201d said the Duck.\n\nAnd I quite agree with her.\n\n     [Picture: Decorative graphic of windmill and overturned barrow]\n\n\n\n\nThe Remarkable Rocket.\n\n\n                     [Picture: The Remarkable Rocket]\n\nTHE King\u2019s son was going to be married, so there were general rejoicings.\nHe had waited a whole year for his bride, and at last she had arrived.\nShe was a Russian Princess, and had driven all the way from Finland in a\nsledge drawn by six reindeer.  The sledge was shaped like a great golden\nswan, and between the swan\u2019s wings lay the little Princess herself.  Her\nlong ermine-cloak reached right down to her feet, on her head was a tiny\ncap of silver tissue, and she was as pale as the Snow Palace in which she\nhad always lived.  So pale was she that as she drove through the streets\nall the people wondered.  \u201cShe is like a white rose!\u201d they cried, and\nthey threw down flowers on her from the balconies.\n\n  [Picture: Decorative graphic of young man kissing the princess\u2019 hand]\n\nAt the gate of the Castle the Prince was waiting to receive her.  He had\ndreamy violet eyes, and his hair was like fine gold.  When he saw her he\nsank upon one knee, and kissed her hand.\n\n\u201cYour picture was beautiful,\u201d he murmured, \u201cbut you are more beautiful\nthan your picture\u201d; and the little Princess blushed.\n\n\u201cShe was like a white rose before,\u201d said a young Page to his neighbour,\n\u201cbut she is like a red rose now\u201d; and the whole Court was delighted.\n\nFor the next three days everybody went about saying, \u201cWhite rose, Red\nrose, Red rose, White rose\u201d; and the King gave orders that the Page\u2019s\nsalary was to be doubled.  As he received no salary at all this was not\nof much use to him, but it was considered a great honour, and was duly\npublished in the Court Gazette.\n\nWhen the three days were over the marriage was celebrated.  It was a\nmagnificent ceremony, and the bride and bridegroom walked hand in hand\nunder a canopy of purple velvet embroidered with little pearls.  Then\nthere was a State Banquet, which lasted for five hours.  The Prince and\nPrincess sat at the top of the Great Hall and drank out of a cup of clear\ncrystal.  Only true lovers could drink out of this cup, for if false lips\ntouched it, it grew grey and dull and cloudy.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s quite clear that they love each other,\u201d said the little Page, \u201cas\nclear as crystal!\u201d and the King doubled his salary a second time.  \u201cWhat\nan honour!\u201d cried all the courtiers.\n\nAfter the banquet there was to be a Ball.  The bride and bridegroom were\nto dance the Rose-dance together, and the King had promised to play the\nflute.  He played very badly, but no one had ever dared to tell him so,\nbecause he was the King.  Indeed, he knew only two airs, and was never\nquite certain which one he was playing; but it made no matter, for,\nwhatever he did, everybody cried out, \u201cCharming! charming!\u201d\n\nThe last item on the programme was a grand display of fireworks, to be\nlet off exactly at midnight.  The little Princess had never seen a\nfirework in her life, so the King had given orders that the Royal\nPyrotechnist should be in attendance on the day of her marriage.\n\n\u201cWhat are fireworks like?\u201d she had asked the Prince, one morning, as she\nwas walking on the terrace.\n\n\u201cThey are like the Aurora Borealis,\u201d said the King, who always answered\nquestions that were addressed to other people, \u201conly much more natural.\nI prefer them to stars myself, as you always know when they are going to\nappear, and they are as delightful as my own flute-playing.  You must\ncertainly see them.\u201d\n\nSo at the end of the King\u2019s garden a great stand had been set up, and as\nsoon as the Royal Pyrotechnist had put everything in its proper place,\nthe fireworks began to talk to each other.\n\n\u201cThe world is certainly very beautiful,\u201d cried a little Squib.  \u201cJust\nlook at those yellow tulips.  Why! if they were real crackers they could\nnot be lovelier.  I am very glad I have travelled.  Travel improves the\nmind wonderfully, and does away with all one\u2019s prejudices.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe King\u2019s garden is not the world, you foolish squib,\u201d said a big Roman\nCandle; \u201cthe world is an enormous place, and it would take you three days\nto see it thoroughly.\u201d\n\n\u201cAny place you love is the world to you,\u201d exclaimed a pensive Catherine\nWheel, who had been attached to an old deal box in early life, and prided\nherself on her broken heart; \u201cbut love is not fashionable any more, the\npoets have killed it.  They wrote so much about it that nobody believed\nthem, and I am not surprised.  True love suffers, and is silent.  I\nremember myself once\u2014But it is no matter now.  Romance is a thing of the\npast.\u201d\n\n\u201cNonsense!\u201d said the Roman Candle, \u201cRomance never dies.  It is like the\nmoon, and lives for ever.  The bride and bridegroom, for instance, love\neach other very dearly.  I heard all about them this morning from a\nbrown-paper cartridge, who happened to be staying in the same drawer as\nmyself, and knew the latest Court news.\u201d\n\nBut the Catherine Wheel shook her head.  \u201cRomance is dead, Romance is\ndead, Romance is dead,\u201d she murmured.  She was one of those people who\nthink that, if you say the same thing over and over a great many times,\nit becomes true in the end.\n\nSuddenly, a sharp, dry cough was heard, and they all looked round.\n\nIt came from a tall, supercilious-looking Rocket, who was tied to the end\nof a long stick.  He always coughed before he made any observation, so as\nto attract attention.\n\n\u201cAhem! ahem!\u201d he said, and everybody listened except the poor Catherine\nWheel, who was still shaking her head, and murmuring, \u201cRomance is dead.\u201d\n\n\u201cOrder! order!\u201d cried out a Cracker.  He was something of a politician,\nand had always taken a prominent part in the local elections, so he knew\nthe proper Parliamentary expressions to use.\n\n\u201cQuite dead,\u201d whispered the Catherine Wheel, and she went off to sleep.\n\nAs soon as there was perfect silence, the Rocket coughed a third time and\nbegan.  He spoke with a very slow, distinct voice, as if he was dictating\nhis memoirs, and always looked over the shoulder of the person to whom he\nwas talking.  In fact, he had a most distinguished manner.\n\n\u201cHow fortunate it is for the King\u2019s son,\u201d he remarked, \u201cthat he is to be\nmarried on the very day on which I am to be let off.  Really, if it had\nbeen arranged beforehand, it could not have turned out better for him;\nbut, Princes are always lucky.\u201d\n\n\u201cDear me!\u201d said the little Squib, \u201cI thought it was quite the other way,\nand that we were to be let off in the Prince\u2019s honour.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt may be so with you,\u201d he answered; \u201cindeed, I have no doubt that it\nis, but with me it is different.  I am a very remarkable Rocket, and come\nof remarkable parents.  My mother was the most celebrated Catherine Wheel\nof her day, and was renowned for her graceful dancing.  When she made her\ngreat public appearance she spun round nineteen times before she went\nout, and each time that she did so she threw into the air seven pink\nstars.  She was three feet and a half in diameter, and made of the very\nbest gunpowder.  My father was a Rocket like myself, and of French\nextraction.  He flew so high that the people were afraid that he would\nnever come down again.  He did, though, for he was of a kindly\ndisposition, and he made a most brilliant descent in a shower of golden\nrain.  The newspapers wrote about his performance in very flattering\nterms.  Indeed, the Court Gazette called him a triumph of Pylotechnic\nart.\u201d\n\n\u201cPyrotechnic, Pyrotechnic, you mean,\u201d said a Bengal Light; \u201cI know it is\nPyrotechnic, for I saw it written on my own canister.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I said Pylotechnic,\u201d answered the Rocket, in a severe tone of\nvoice, and the Bengal Light felt so crushed that he began at once to\nbully the little squibs, in order to show that he was still a person of\nsome importance.\n\n\u201cI was saying,\u201d continued the Rocket, \u201cI was saying\u2014What was I saying?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou were talking about yourself,\u201d replied the Roman Candle.\n\n\u201cOf course; I knew I was discussing some interesting subject when I was\nso rudely interrupted.  I hate rudeness and bad manners of every kind,\nfor I am extremely sensitive.  No one in the whole world is so sensitive\nas I am, I am quite sure of that.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is a sensitive person?\u201d said the Cracker to the Roman Candle.\n\n\u201cA person who, because he has corns himself, always treads on other\npeople\u2019s toes,\u201d answered the Roman Candle in a low whisper; and the\nCracker nearly exploded with laughter.\n\n\u201cPray, what are you laughing at?\u201d inquired the Rocket; \u201cI am not\nlaughing.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am laughing because I am happy,\u201d replied the Cracker.\n\n\u201cThat is a very selfish reason,\u201d said the Rocket angrily.  \u201cWhat right\nhave you to be happy?  You should be thinking about others.  In fact, you\nshould be thinking about me.  I am always thinking about myself, and I\nexpect everybody else to do the same.  That is what is called sympathy.\nIt is a beautiful virtue, and I possess it in a high degree.  Suppose,\nfor instance, anything happened to me to-night, what a misfortune that\nwould be for every one!  The Prince and Princess would never be happy\nagain, their whole married life would be spoiled; and as for the King, I\nknow he would not get over it.  Really, when I begin to reflect on the\nimportance of my position, I am almost moved to tears.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you want to give pleasure to others,\u201d cried the Roman Candle, \u201cyou\nhad better keep yourself dry.\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly,\u201d exclaimed the Bengal Light, who was now in better spirits;\n\u201cthat is only common sense.\u201d\n\n\u201cCommon sense, indeed!\u201d said the Rocket indignantly; \u201cyou forget that I\nam very uncommon, and very remarkable.  Why, anybody can have common\nsense, provided that they have no imagination.  But I have imagination,\nfor I never think of things as they really are; I always think of them as\nbeing quite different.  As for keeping myself dry, there is evidently no\none here who can at all appreciate an emotional nature.  Fortunately for\nmyself, I don\u2019t care.  The only thing that sustains one through life is\nthe consciousness of the immense inferiority of everybody else, and this\nis a feeling that I have always cultivated.  But none of you have any\nhearts.  Here you are laughing and making merry just as if the Prince and\nPrincess had not just been married.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, really,\u201d exclaimed a small Fire-balloon, \u201cwhy not?  It is a most\njoyful occasion, and when I soar up into the air I intend to tell the\nstars all about it.  You will see them twinkle when I talk to them about\nthe pretty bride.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! what a trivial view of life!\u201d said the Rocket; \u201cbut it is only what\nI expected.  There is nothing in you; you are hollow and empty.  Why,\nperhaps the Prince and Princess may go to live in a country where there\nis a deep river, and perhaps they may have one only son, a little\nfair-haired boy with violet eyes like the Prince himself; and perhaps\nsome day he may go out to walk with his nurse; and perhaps the nurse may\ngo to sleep under a great elder-tree; and perhaps the little boy may fall\ninto the deep river and be drowned.  What a terrible misfortune!  Poor\npeople, to lose their only son!  It is really too dreadful!  I shall\nnever get over it.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut they have not lost their only son,\u201d said the Roman Candle; \u201cno\nmisfortune has happened to them at all.\u201d\n\n\u201cI never said that they had,\u201d replied the Rocket; \u201cI said that they\nmight.  If they had lost their only son there would be no use in saying\nanything more about the matter.  I hate people who cry over spilt milk.\nBut when I think that they might lose their only son, I certainly am very\nmuch affected.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou certainly are!\u201d cried the Bengal Light.  \u201cIn fact, you are the most\naffected person I ever met.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are the rudest person I ever met,\u201d said the Rocket, \u201cand you cannot\nunderstand my friendship for the Prince.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, you don\u2019t even know him,\u201d growled the Roman Candle.\n\n\u201cI never said I knew him,\u201d answered the Rocket.  \u201cI dare say that if I\nknew him I should not be his friend at all.  It is a very dangerous thing\nto know one\u2019s friends.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou had really better keep yourself dry,\u201d said the Fire-balloon.  \u201cThat\nis the important thing.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery important for you, I have no doubt,\u201d answered the Rocket, \u201cbut I\nshall weep if I choose\u201d; and he actually burst into real tears, which\nflowed down his stick like rain-drops, and nearly drowned two little\nbeetles, who were just thinking of setting up house together, and were\nlooking for a nice dry spot to live in.\n\n\u201cHe must have a truly romantic nature,\u201d said the Catherine Wheel, \u201cfor he\nweeps when there is nothing at all to weep about\u201d; and she heaved a deep\nsigh, and thought about the deal box.\n\nBut the Roman Candle and the Bengal Light were quite indignant, and kept\nsaying, \u201cHumbug! humbug!\u201d at the top of their voices.  They were\nextremely practical, and whenever they objected to anything they called\nit humbug.\n\nThen the moon rose like a wonderful silver shield; and the stars began to\nshine, and a sound of music came from the palace.\n\nThe Prince and Princess were leading the dance.  They danced so\nbeautifully that the tall white lilies peeped in at the window and\nwatched them, and the great red poppies nodded their heads and beat time.\n\nThen ten o\u2019clock struck, and then eleven, and then twelve, and at the\nlast stroke of midnight every one came out on the terrace, and the King\nsent for the Royal Pyrotechnist.\n\n\u201cLet the fireworks begin,\u201d said the King; and the Royal Pyrotechnist made\na low bow, and marched down to the end of the garden.  He had six\nattendants with him, each of whom carried a lighted torch at the end of a\nlong pole.\n\nIt was certainly a magnificent display.\n\nWhizz! Whizz! went the Catherine Wheel, as she spun round and round.\nBoom!  Boom! went the Roman Candle.  Then the Squibs danced all over the\nplace, and the Bengal Lights made everything look scarlet.  \u201cGood-bye,\u201d\ncried the Fire-balloon, as he soared away, dropping tiny blue sparks.\nBang! Bang! answered the Crackers, who were enjoying themselves\nimmensely.  Every one was a great success except the Remarkable Rocket.\nHe was so damp with crying that he could not go off at all.  The best\nthing in him was the gunpowder, and that was so wet with tears that it\nwas of no use.  All his poor relations, to whom he would never speak,\nexcept with a sneer, shot up into the sky like wonderful golden flowers\nwith blossoms of fire.  Huzza! Huzza! cried the Court; and the little\nPrincess laughed with pleasure.\n\n\u201cI suppose they are reserving me for some grand occasion,\u201d said the\nRocket; \u201cno doubt that is what it means,\u201d and he looked more supercilious\nthan ever.\n\nThe next day the workmen came to put everything tidy.  \u201cThis is evidently\na deputation,\u201d said the Rocket; \u201cI will receive them with becoming\ndignity\u201d so he put his nose in the air, and began to frown severely as if\nhe were thinking about some very important subject.  But they took no\nnotice of him at all till they were just going away.  Then one of them\ncaught sight of him.  \u201cHallo!\u201d he cried, \u201cwhat a bad rocket!\u201d and he\nthrew him over the wall into the ditch.\n\n\u201cBAD Rocket?  BAD Rocket?\u201d he said, as he whirled through the air;\n\u201cimpossible!  GRAND Rocket, that is what the man said.  BAD and GRAND\nsound very much the same, indeed they often are the same\u201d; and he fell\ninto the mud.\n\n\u201cIt is not comfortable here,\u201d he remarked, \u201cbut no doubt it is some\nfashionable watering-place, and they have sent me away to recruit my\nhealth.  My nerves are certainly very much shattered, and I require\nrest.\u201d\n\nThen a little Frog, with bright jewelled eyes, and a green mottled coat,\nswam up to him.\n\n\u201cA new arrival, I see!\u201d said the Frog.  \u201cWell, after all there is nothing\nlike mud.  Give me rainy weather and a ditch, and I am quite happy.  Do\nyou think it will be a wet afternoon?  I am sure I hope so, but the sky\nis quite blue and cloudless.  What a pity!\u201d\n\n\u201cAhem! ahem!\u201d said the Rocket, and he began to cough.\n\n\u201cWhat a delightful voice you have!\u201d cried the Frog.  \u201cReally it is quite\nlike a croak, and croaking is of course the most musical sound in the\nworld.  You will hear our glee-club this evening.  We sit in the old duck\npond close by the farmer\u2019s house, and as soon as the moon rises we begin.\nIt is so entrancing that everybody lies awake to listen to us.  In fact,\nit was only yesterday that I heard the farmer\u2019s wife say to her mother\nthat she could not get a wink of sleep at night on account of us.  It is\nmost gratifying to find oneself so popular.\u201d\n\n\u201cAhem! ahem!\u201d said the Rocket angrily.  He was very much annoyed that he\ncould not get a word in.\n\n\u201cA delightful voice, certainly,\u201d continued the Frog; \u201cI hope you will\ncome over to the duck-pond.  I am off to look for my daughters.  I have\nsix beautiful daughters, and I am so afraid the Pike may meet them.  He\nis a perfect monster, and would have no hesitation in breakfasting off\nthem.  Well, good-bye: I have enjoyed our conversation very much, I\nassure you.\u201d\n\n\u201cConversation, indeed!\u201d said the Rocket.  \u201cYou have talked the whole time\nyourself.  That is not conversation.\u201d\n\n\u201cSomebody must listen,\u201d answered the Frog, \u201cand I like to do all the\ntalking myself.  It saves time, and prevents arguments.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I like arguments,\u201d said the Rocket.\n\n\u201cI hope not,\u201d said the Frog complacently.  \u201cArguments are extremely\nvulgar, for everybody in good society holds exactly the same opinions.\nGood-bye a second time; I see my daughters in the distance:\u201d and the\nlittle Frog swam away.\n\n\u201cYou are a very irritating person,\u201d said the Rocket, \u201cand very ill-bred.\nI hate people who talk about themselves, as you do, when one wants to\ntalk about oneself, as I do.  It is what I call selfishness, and\nselfishness is a most detestable thing, especially to any one of my\ntemperament, for I am well known for my sympathetic nature.  In fact, you\nshould take example by me; you could not possibly have a better model.\nNow that you have the chance you had better avail yourself of it, for I\nam going back to Court almost immediately.  I am a great favourite at\nCourt; in fact, the Prince and Princess were married yesterday in my\nhonour.  Of course you know nothing of these matters, for you are a\nprovincial.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no good talking to him,\u201d said a Dragon-fly, who was sitting on\nthe top of a large brown bulrush; \u201cno good at all, for he has gone away.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, that is his loss, not mine,\u201d answered the Rocket.  \u201cI am not going\nto stop talking to him merely because he pays no attention.  I like\nhearing myself talk.  It is one of my greatest pleasures.  I often have\nlong conversations all by myself, and I am so clever that sometimes I\ndon\u2019t understand a single word of what I am saying.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you should certainly lecture on Philosophy,\u201d said the Dragon-fly;\nand he spread a pair of lovely gauze wings and soared away into the sky.\n\n\u201cHow very silly of him not to stay here!\u201d said the Rocket.  \u201cI am sure\nthat he has not often got such a chance of improving his mind.  However,\nI don\u2019t care a bit.  Genius like mine is sure to be appreciated some\nday\u201d; and he sank down a little deeper into the mud.\n\nAfter some time a large White Duck swam up to him.  She had yellow legs,\nand webbed feet, and was considered a great beauty on account of her\nwaddle.\n\n\u201cQuack, quack, quack,\u201d she said.  \u201cWhat a curious shape you are!  May I\nask were you born like that, or is it the result of an accident?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is quite evident that you have always lived in the country,\u201d answered\nthe Rocket, \u201cotherwise you would know who I am.  However, I excuse your\nignorance.  It would be unfair to expect other people to be as remarkable\nas oneself.  You will no doubt be surprised to hear that I can fly up\ninto the sky, and come down in a shower of golden rain.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t think much of that,\u201d said the Duck, \u201cas I cannot see what use it\nis to any one.  Now, if you could plough the fields like the ox, or draw\na cart like the horse, or look after the sheep like the collie-dog, that\nwould be something.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy good creature,\u201d cried the Rocket in a very haughty tone of voice, \u201cI\nsee that you belong to the lower orders.  A person of my position is\nnever useful.  We have certain accomplishments, and that is more than\nsufficient.  I have no sympathy myself with industry of any kind, least\nof all with such industries as you seem to recommend.  Indeed, I have\nalways been of opinion that hard work is simply the refuge of people who\nhave nothing whatever to do.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, well,\u201d said the Duck, who was of a very peaceable disposition, and\nnever quarrelled with any one, \u201ceverybody has different tastes.  I hope,\nat any rate, that you are going to take up your residence here.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! dear no,\u201d cried the Rocket.  \u201cI am merely a visitor, a distinguished\nvisitor.  The fact is that I find this place rather tedious.  There is\nneither society here, nor solitude.  In fact, it is essentially suburban.\nI shall probably go back to Court, for I know that I am destined to make\na sensation in the world.\u201d\n\n\u201cI had thoughts of entering public life once myself,\u201d remarked the Duck;\n\u201cthere are so many things that need reforming.  Indeed, I took the chair\nat a meeting some time ago, and we passed resolutions condemning\neverything that we did not like.  However, they did not seem to have much\neffect.  Now I go in for domesticity, and look after my family.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am made for public life,\u201d said the Rocket, \u201cand so are all my\nrelations, even the humblest of them.  Whenever we appear we excite great\nattention.  I have not actually appeared myself, but when I do so it will\nbe a magnificent sight.  As for domesticity, it ages one rapidly, and\ndistracts one\u2019s mind from higher things.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! the higher things of life, how fine they are!\u201d said the Duck; \u201cand\nthat reminds me how hungry I feel\u201d: and she swam away down the stream,\nsaying, \u201cQuack, quack, quack.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome back! come back!\u201d screamed the Rocket, \u201cI have a great deal to say\nto you\u201d; but the Duck paid no attention to him.  \u201cI am glad that she has\ngone,\u201d he said to himself, \u201cshe has a decidedly middle-class mind\u201d; and\nhe sank a little deeper still into the mud, and began to think about the\nloneliness of genius, when suddenly two little boys in white smocks came\nrunning down the bank, with a kettle and some faggots.\n\n\u201cThis must be the deputation,\u201d said the Rocket, and he tried to look very\ndignified.\n\n\u201cHallo!\u201d cried one of the boys, \u201clook at this old stick!  I wonder how it\ncame here\u201d; and he picked the rocket out of the ditch.\n\n\u201cOLD Stick!\u201d said the Rocket, \u201cimpossible!  GOLD Stick, that is what he\nsaid.  Gold Stick is very complimentary.  In fact, he mistakes me for one\nof the Court dignitaries!\u201d\n\n\u201cLet us put it into the fire!\u201d said the other boy, \u201cit will help to boil\nthe kettle.\u201d\n\nSo they piled the faggots together, and put the Rocket on top, and lit\nthe fire.\n\n\u201cThis is magnificent,\u201d cried the Rocket, \u201cthey are going to let me off in\nbroad day-light, so that every one can see me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe will go to sleep now,\u201d they said, \u201cand when we wake up the kettle\nwill be boiled\u201d; and they lay down on the grass, and shut their eyes.\n\nThe Rocket was very damp, so he took a long time to burn.  At last,\nhowever, the fire caught him.\n\n\u201cNow I am going off!\u201d he cried, and he made himself very stiff and\nstraight.  \u201cI know I shall go much higher than the stars, much higher\nthan the moon, much higher than the sun.  In fact, I shall go so high\nthat\u2014\u201d\n\nFizz! Fizz! Fizz! and he went straight up into the air.\n\n\u201cDelightful!\u201d he cried, \u201cI shall go on like this for ever.  What a\nsuccess I am!\u201d\n\nBut nobody saw him.\n\nThen he began to feel a curious tingling sensation all over him.\n\n\u201cNow I am going to explode,\u201d he cried.  \u201cI shall set the whole world on\nfire, and make such a noise that nobody will talk about anything else for\na whole year.\u201d  And he certainly did explode.  Bang! Bang! Bang! went the\ngunpowder.  There was no doubt about it.\n\nBut nobody heard him, not even the two little boys, for they were sound\nasleep.\n\nThen all that was left of him was the stick, and this fell down on the\nback of a Goose who was taking a walk by the side of the ditch.\n\n\u201cGood heavens!\u201d cried the Goose.  \u201cIt is going to rain sticks\u201d; and she\nrushed into the water.\n\n\u201cI knew I should create a great sensation,\u201d gasped the Rocket, and he\nwent out.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n                   Printed by BALLANTYNE & CO. LIMITED\n                 Tavistock Street, Covent Garden, London\n\n                  [Picture: Decorative graphic of bird]","title":"The Happy Prince, and Other Tales","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":16372}