Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2017 with funding from Duke University Libraries https://archive.org/details/storytellerother01ande O t E LUCKOIE. Page 15. T H E STORY TELLER, ti AND OTHER TALES. BY IIANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN. ILLUSTRATED. NEW YORK: JOHN B. ALDEN, PUBLISHER. 18S r >. Dedication - - 7 Preface ... ... 8 Ole Luckoie— The Stort T^ler .... 15 The Buckwheat .... ... 40 The Wild Swans .... ... 45 The Amoel .......... 81 The Fellow-Traveler ..... <• 8S The Elfin Mound ........ J30 The Flying Trunk ........ 145 The Bundle of Matches • - IM St tfce Youuq Kratters of tfjrac Sale*. MY DEAR LITTLE FRIENDS, The task of translating this volume into English was to me as a labor of love; for when I read these charming stories for the first time the thought immediately oc- curred to me, “ How delightful a book would this be for English children to have! How many persons would be enchanted with the book if they could but read it!” And so, wishing that others — many others^ as I hope — might share my pleasure with me, wishing that the name of Andersen 71797 $rtfort might become as familiar and be as joy fully greeted in England as it is every where throughout Denmark, I thought the best thing I could do would be to translate what he has here written; and then I doubted not of finding some bookseller who would take my book and publish it. Well, I set about the work; and at every pretty passage I thought to myself, how some bright, playful eyes would sparkle still more brightly, and some sweet rosy mouth send forth a happy laugh, when the words I was then writing would be read : and so I translated story after story, and was as impatient to get on as though I had not read the book before, and wanted to know myself what was coming. Then 1 took them with me to England, and read them to different persons, — the young, and those who had been young, — and all were equally delighted with the pretty dcscrip- I^rrfarp. cions, the beautiful thoughts, the quaint drollery, and the kindly feeling to be found throughout. For these stories though, it is true, not all strictly speaking fairy-tales, yet seem to me to come from Fairy-land ; for they have the strange witchery about them that when a child reads he sees just such pictures as delight his young fancy; and when a grown-up person takes them in his hand he is equally delighted, though he secs them quite dilfercntly to the child, for to him there arc hidden meanings and deep wisdom in what appears to some a mere childish tale. It may seem very magical for a thing to appear quite dif- ferent to two persons at the same time, and yet remain unchanged; but so it is. As a proof of this, the lady to whom I have taken the liberty of dedicating my little book wrote to me some time ago : “ I look forward with great interest to the publica- 71797 ftøføtt. tion of that charming book, which 1 shal enjoy quite as much as if I were one ol your legitimate readers of eight years old, instead of fifty-eight next Tuesday:” so you see that not only the school-boy but one whose genius has delighted thousands can read them with enjoyment. However. I suppose this is because the good and the gentle-natured, be their age what it may, are all children in heart ; taking delight in the same simple things, and moved like most of yourselves by the expression of natural feeling. At Copenhagen, too, these tales are read in the theatre to the audi- ( ence between the acts ; so great and so general is the interest they excite. How Andersen could imagine such charm- ing things I cannot tell, nor do 1 know il the elves and pixies of Denmark gave him a hint or hot ; but I should think the beau- tiful thoughts and words so full of pathos xii ■prffatf. were brought him rather by some good angel, a messenger from heaven. A friend of mine, Count Pocci, of Mu- nich, (you all know where Munich is?), told me if I could find a publisher, he would make the drawings for the book. I was particularly glad of this, because he has already illustrated a great many such works : tales of his own, about little or- phan children being left all alone in the world, without any being but God to take care of them ; and pretty verses of four or five lines for every day in the month; be- sides the books of other authors: and they were all done in the feeling and spirit I iked. Here, in Pavaria, I can assure you, “ All children know, They know and love him well ; And clap their hands with joy to hear The tales that he can tell. xiii ** And in the man he draws for them, And in his tales, is shown Full well he knows thai childhood has A world that’s all its own.” But it is really time to end. I intended to say a few words only, and I have stayed to talk with you for more than half an hour. Farewell, my pretty ones; and like the children in the vignette, plucking fruits and flowers from the overhanging boughs, may you derive gladness and much amuse- ment from these “ Tales from Denmark.” Farewell for a time : I hope some day to meet you all again. Charles Boner. sitting never so nicely and pret- tily behaved at table, or on their footstools, ID you ever sec any body who knows so many stories as good old Ole Luckoie — and then, too, such stories ! — Yes, of an eve- ning, although "* the children be dMr jDnrkntp. np stairs Ole Luckoie comes quite softly. He has, in reality, list shoes on ; he opens the door very gently, and then what should he do but strew a certain powder on the children’s eyelids. It is so fine, so very fine ; but still it is always enough to make it impossible for them to keep their eyes open any longer ; and that is the reason they do not see him : then he glides behind them, and breathes gently on their neck ; and then their heads feel so heavy ! But it does not hurt them, for good old Ole Luckoie loves the children, and wishes them well ; he only wants them to be quiet, and they are most so when they are in bed. He wants them to be still, that he may be able to tell them his stories.* • Ole Luckoie, that is, “ old kind-hearted Ole,” is he whose business it is in every family to close the children’s eyes when they go to bed — in short, to sing them their lullaby. In Germany the same nursery- genius is to be found : he is called “ The Sandman,” who, when it is time for the little ones to go to bed, strews sand in their eyes, so that they can no longe« keep them open. It is an every-day expression, when 16 (DU rnrknit. As soon as the children are asleep, good old Ole seats himself at the foot of their bed He is well dressed; his coat is of silken stuff ; but to say what color it is would be an impossibility, for it is so glossy, and is green, and red, and blue, according as he turns. Under each arm he carries an um- brella; one with pictures, which he holds over the good children, and then they dream the whole night the prettiest stories; and one on which there is nothing, and this one he holds over naughty children, who then sleep on dully the whole night, and when they awake in the morning have dreamed nothing at all. Let us hear now how Ole came every night for a whole week to a little boy called Hialmar, and what he related to him. That makes seven stories; for a week, yoii know, has seven days. #f an evening a person looks sleepy, and winks and rube his eyes, to say, “ Ha, ha! 1 see the Sandman is some !” — N ot* or tur Transistor. 1 IT dMt Zukrit, MONDAY. “ Now, then, listen to me !” said the kind old man, when he had got Hialmar to bed. “ Now I’ll show you a pretty sight !” and suddenly all the flowers in the flower-pots were changed into great trees, that spread their long branches up to the very ceiling, and along the walls, so that the whole room looked like the piettiest bower; and all the boughs were full of flowers, and every flow- er was more beautiful than a rose, and smelt delightfully. If one chose to eat it, it tasted sweeter than sugar-plums. The fruits shone like gold ; and plum-cakes were then almost bursting with raisins: there was nothing could be compared to it ! But at the same moment a terrible lamentation was heard in the table-drawer, where Hialmar’s school- books were lying. “What’s that?” said Ole, going to tho drawer and pulling it out. There lay the slate, on which the figures were pushing and knocking each other ; for a wrong number had got into the sum, so that the whole was 18 (DU Iurknif. on the point of breaking down : the penci. jumped and hopped about, chained as he was to the slate by a piece of string, just like a little dog : he wanted to help the sum, but was not able. And a little further lay llial- mar’s copy-book : here, too, was a moaning and lamentation within. On every leaf, from top to bottom, were capital letters, each with a small one beside it, and so all the way down. That was the copy ; and by these some other letters were standing, that fancied they looked like them, llialmar had written these; but there they lay, pret- ty much as if they had tumbled over the pencil-line on which they were meant to • tand. “Look! you must stand so!” said the copy ; “ look !— so, sideways, with a bold front.” “ Oh ! we should be glad enough to do so,” said Hialmar’s letters, “but we can’t; we arc such poor wretched creatures !” “ Then you must have some pepper,” said Ole. (øle tnåm. upright that it was a pleasure lu look at them. “Well, I can’t tell you any niora stories now,” said the kind old man ; “ I must go and drill the letters : one, two ! one, two ! one, two!” And then they stood as straight and as well as only a copy can stand ; but when Ole went away, and Hialmar looked at them next morning, there they were all just as wretched-looking as befoie. TUESDAY. As soon as Hialmar was in bed, Ole touched all the furniture in the room with his magic wand, and it immediately began to speak ; and each thing spoke of itself. Over the chest of drawers there hung a large picture in a gilded frame. It was a landscape ; and in it were to be seen high old trees, flowers in the grass, and a broad piece of water, with a river that flowed round the wood, past many castl(», away into the mighty sea. The kind old man touched thu picture 20 (JMb Xnrkflit. with his wand; and the birds began to sing, the boughs of the trees moved, and the clouds floated by, so that one could see their shadows moving over the landscape. Ole now lifted Hialmar up to the frame, and Hialmar put his feet in the picture, right in among the high grass, and there he stood. He ran to the water and seated himself in a little boat; it was painted red and white, the sails shone like silver, and six swans, with golden chains around their necks, and a brilliant blue star on their heads, drew the boat past a green wood, where the trees re- lated stories of robbers and witches, and the flowers told about the pretty little elves, and about what the butterflies had said to them. The most beautiful fishes, with scales like gold and silver, swam after the boat ; some- times they gave a jump, so that they made a splashing in the water ; and birds, red and blue, large and small, came flying behind in two long rows; the gnats danced, and tha ehafers hummed ; they all would accom- pany Hialmar, and each one had a story M tell. si dDIr TmMt. That was an excursion ! Sometimes the (roods were thick and gloomy ; now they were like the most pleasing gardens, full of flowers and sunshine, and there were two large castles of marble and crystal. On the balconies Princesses were standing, all of whom were quite little girls, acquaintances of Hialmar, with whom he had often played. They stretched out their hands, each one holding the nicest little sucking-pig imagi- nable, made of sugar ; and Hialmar took hold of one end as he sailed by, and a Prin- cess held the other ; so that each got a piece — she the smaller, and he the larger one. Before each castle little Princes were stand- ing sentry ; they shouldered arms with their golden swords, and sent down showers of raisins and games of soldiers. They were the right sort of Princes ! Hialmar now sailed through a wood, now through large nails, or the middle of a town ; he passed, too, through the town where his nurse lived, she who had carried him about when he was quite a little boy, and had loved him so dearly. She nodded and beckoned to him 22 (Dip Xnrknit. *nd sarg k ! how he gallops !” v dMf Itirkntt. And Hialmar saw how O.e Luckoie'i brother rode away, and took the young and the old up with him on his horse. Some he •set before him, and others behind ; but he tl ways asked first what testimonials they >lad. “ Oh, good ones,” said they all. “ Yes, out let me look myself,” said he ; and then they were obliged to show him the book : and all those who had “ very good,” or “ particularly good,” came before him on norseback, and heard the beautiful story ; but those who had “ pretty well,” oi “ bad,” in their books, were obliged to get behind and hear the dreadful one. They trembled and cried, and wanted to jump down from the horse, but they could not, for they and the horse had grown together. “ But Death is the more beautiful of the two,” said Hialmar; “I am not afraid of him.” “Nor should you be,” said Ole; “only take care that you have a good certificate in your book.” “Yes, that is instructive,” murmured the 38 dMf Inrknif. great-grandpapa's portrait; “it i-s, however, a good thing to express one’s opinion aftci all and now the old gentleman was pleased. Well, that is the story of Ole Luckoie, and this evening he can tell you some mors tales. i €\}t S&tukrafuo!. F, after a thunder- storm, you go into a field where Buck- wheat is growing, you will sometimes see that it looks quite black and sing- ed ; just as if a stream of flame had passed over it : and then the farmer says, “ The lightning haa done this.” But how is it that the lightning does it ? I will tell you what the Sparrow told me, and the sparrow heard it from an old Willow-tree that stood in a field ol 40 Æfje ‘iinrkiujirnt. Buckwheat, and is still standing there. It is a large and quite a venerable Willow, tut old and wrinkled, and is cleft from top tc bottom; and out of the clefts grow black- berry-bushes and grass. The tree bends forwards, and the branches almost reach the ground — it looks like long green hair hang- ing down. In all the fields around grain was growing: Rye, Buckwheat, and Oats. Yes, beautiful Oats, that look, when ripe, like a whole sea of little golden canaries sit- ting on a bough. The grain stood there in such blessed fulness ; and the heavier it was the lower it bowed in pious humility. A field of Buckwheat was there, too, and it lay just before the old Willow-tree. But the Buckwheat bowed not down as did the other grain ; stiff and proud, there it stood. “I am quite as rich as the ears of Com,” it said, “and, besides, I am much more beautiful ; my flowers are as lovely as the blossom of the Apple-tree : it is quite a plea- sure to look at me ! Did you ever see any thing more splendid than we arc, old Wil- low-tree 1” 41 tStyr 36nrktnjr?nt, And the Willow nodded as though he would say, “Yes, certainly I have.” But the Buckwheat was puffed up with pride, end said, “ The stupid tree ! he is so old that gTass is growing over his body !” Now, a dreadful thunder-storm drew near ; all the flowers of the field folded their leaves, or bowed their heads, while the tempest passed : but the Buckwheat, in his pride, stood quite erect. “ Bow thy head, as we do,” said the Flowers. “I shall do no such thing!” said the Buckwheat. “ Bow thy head, as we do,” said the Corn; “ the Spirit of the storm is about to rush by. He hath wings which reach from the clouds unto the earth ; he will dash thee down before thou hast time to implore him to be merciful !” “ No, I will not bend,” said the Buck- wheat. “ Close thy flowers, and bend down thy leaves,” said the old Willow-tree; “look not into the glare of the lightning when the 42 €\)t SGncItnijjfnt. cloud bursts: mon even dare not do that for in the lightning one seetli into God’s own heaven, and that sight is enough to dazzle even man : how would it fare with us, mere plants of the earth, if we dared to do it? we are so much less !” “So much less!” said the Buckwheat; “ now just for that I will gaze into God’s own heaven !” and he did do so in his pride and presumption. It was as if the whole world was in fire and (lame, so terribly did it lighten. Later, when the storm was over, there stood the Flowers and the Corn in the calm pure air refreshed by the rain ; but the Buckwheat was burned by the lightning as black as a coal : it lay a dead useless plant upon the field. And the old Willow moved its branches in the wind, and large drops fell from the green leaves, as though the tree wept. And the Sparrows asked : “ What are you weep- ing for? It is so beautiful here! Look how the sun is shining; look how the clouds are sailing on ! I)o you not smell the fra- 4 3 d'tjc 3SntknrIjEnt. grance of the flowers and of the bushes) What are you weeping for, then, you old Wiliow ? And the Willow told them of the pride and presumption of the Buckwheat, and ol the punishment that is sure to follow. I. who relate the story, heard it from the Spar- rows : they told it me one evening when J begged for a fairy-tale. M ong before sunset she was sitting on a hill before a large cavern, which was • Mirage. An optical illusion, presenting an image #f objects on the earth or sea as if elevated into th* air. 64 €tjp Wilil liming. BO thickly covered by green creeping-plants, that it looked as if overspread with crnbroi-^ dered hangings. “ Let ns see, now, what you dream to- night !” said the youngest brother, as he showed her the chamber where she was to sleep. “ Would that I might dream how I could disenchant you !” said she. And this thought possessed her entirely ; she prayed heartily to God for aid, and even in her dreams continued her prayer. Then it seemed to her as if she were flying high through the air to the cloud-palace of tho Fata Morgana ; and the Fairy advanced to meet her in light and loveliness ; and yet, after all, it was the old woman who had given her berries in the wood, and told her of the swans with golden crowns on their heads. “Thy brothers may be released,” said the Fairy; “but hast thou patience and fortitude 1 ’Tis true the sea is softer than thy delicate hands, and yet it changes the form af the hard stones ; but it feels not the s 66 V føxlil Imiras. pain which your tender fingers would suf' fer. It has no heart, and suffereth not the anguish and suspense which thou wouldst have to endure. Dost thou see these nettles in my hand ? Many such grow around the cave where thou sleepest; these only, and such as shoot up out of the graves in the churchyard, are of use ; and mark this — thou must gather them although they sting thy hands ; thou must brake* the nettles with thy feet, and then thou wilt have yarn ; and of this yarn, with weaving and winding, thou must make eleven shirts of mail with long sleeves ; and if thou wilt throw these over the eleven wild swans, then the en- chantment will be at an end. But remember, from the moment thou beginnest thy work until its completion, even should years pass by meanwhile, thou must not utter a single word : the first sound of thy lips will pass like a fatal dagger through thy brothers’ hearts — on thy tongue depends their life. Mark well ad that I say !” • A brake is an instrument for dressing flax. 66 Æljr ISiflP f timus. And at the same moment the Fairy touch- ed Elise’s hand with the nettle: it was like burning fire; and it awoke her. It was bright day ; and close beside her bed lay a nettle like that she had seen in her dream. Then she fell on her knees, thanked God, and went out of the cavern to begin her work. With her delicate hands she seized the horrid nettles that burned like fire. Her hands and arms were blistered; but she minded it not, could her dear brothers bo but freed. She trampled on each nettle with her naked feet, and twisted the green flax. At sunset her brothers returned: they were sadly frightened at Elise s dumbness, and thought it was a new enchantment un- der which she was laid by their wicked step-mother ; but when they saw her blis- tered hands, they knew what their sister was doing for their sakes, and the youngest brother wept; and whenever his tears fell Elise felt no pain— the burning smart ceased immediately. 67 €!i£ føllh $tnnns. The whole night she was occ lpled with her work ; for she could not rest till she had freed her dear brothers. All the following day she sat in solitude, while the swans were flying afar ; but never did time seem to pass so quickly. One shirt of mail was finished ; and now she begun the second. Suddenly the horn of a, hunter was heard among the mountains. She grew frightened — the sound came nearer — she heard the bark of the dogs. Full of apprehension, she flew into the cavern, tied the nettles which she had gathered and hackled into a bundle, and seated herself upon it. At the same moment a large dog sprang forward out of the bushes, and immediately after another and another : they barked loudly, then ran back and came again. It was not long before the hunters themselves stood in front of the cave, and the hand- somest of them all was the King of the country. He advanced towards Elise ; a maiden more beautiful than she had he never beheld. “ Whence comest thou, lovely child 1 ? 68 €1 | t røitø åtnana. ■aid he. Elise shook her head; she da red aot speak, for the deliverance and the life of her brothers depended on her silence She hid her hands underneath her apron, that the King might not see what she was obliged to suffer. “Come with me,” said he; “ thou must not stay here. If thou art as good as thou art beautiful, I will clothe thee in e * U3 tøjr* /dlnm-Ærfltrtltr. øinesk) came over him, that he could k^ep his eyes open no longer, and fell asleep in his chair. His comrade then lifted him gently into bed ; and when it was night, took the two wings which he had cut off the dead swan, and fastened them on his own shoulders. He afterwards put the largest bundle of fern and willow-twigs, which the old woman in the forest had given him, into his pocket, opened a window, and flew out, away over the town, and straight to the palace, where he hid himself in a bow-window, close to the bedchamber of the Princess. Stillness reigned in the town. The clock was striking a quarter to twelve, when the window was opened, and the Princess, in a large white garment, and with large black wings, flew away over the town towards a high mountain. As soon as the man per- ceived her, he made himself invisible, fol- lowed the Princess through the air, and beat her so with his rod, that the blood well nigh followed the stripes. Holloa! Ho! That was a u rj‘ through the air ! The wind 114 ty i /cllma-Ærinidtr. caught the garment of the Princess, blowirg it about like a sail, and the moon shone bright the while. “ Oh ! how it hails !” said the Princess, at every stripe of the rod ; and well enough did she deserve the chastisement. At last she arrived at the mountain, and knocked fo admittance. A noise like thunder was heard as the mountain opened, and the Princess entered ; and the man, whom no one could see, followed at her heels. They passed through a long dark passage, the walls of which shone like fire from the glowing spiders that were running up and down. They afterwards arrived in a spa ■ cious hall, built of gold and silver, on whose sides red and blue flowers were displayed as large as sun-flowers; but no one dared to pick them, for their stalks were poisonous snakes, and the flowers themselves the fire that streamed from their jaws. The whole ceiling was covered with beaming woims, and sky-blue bats that fluttered their trans- parent wings unceasingly. In the middle of the hall stood a large ns €\p fBlhra-tørnrabr. throne, supported by the skeletons cf four horses, caparisoned with trappings of red spiders. The throne itself was of milk-white glass ; and the cushions were mice, each one holding the tail of another in his mouth. Above was outspread a canopy of rose-co- lored cobweb, studded with small flies that shone like precious stones. On the throne sat an old goblin, with a crown on his frightful head, and a sceptre in his hand. He kissed -the Princess on the forehead, desired her to sit beside him on the costly throne ; and then the music immedi- ately began. Large black grasshoppers played the jews-harp, and an owl beat his breast instead of a drum, as he had no other. Little fiends, each one with a Will-o’-the- Wisp in his cap, danced to this music about the hall. Not one of the company discovered the man who had placed himself immedi- ately behind the throne, whence he could hear and see all that happened. The courtiers of the mountain-dwarf now entered the saloon ; they did so as if they were persons of immense importance ; but 116 €fjt .fillnin-^rnnflfr. any one a little skilled in human natur« could easily see that they did not feel happy, They were, moreover, nothing but broom sticks, with cabbages for heads; into which the goblin had conjured some life, and had them dressed in embroidered clothes. How- ever, that was of no consequence ; as they were only there for parade and show. When the dancing had lasted some time, the Princess told the mountain-sprite that she had got another suitor ; and asked him at last on what she should think, when he came to the palace next morning to guess her thoughts. “ I’ll tell you, my daughter,” said the old goblin. “Choose something quite simple then he will be least likely to guess it Think, for example, of your shoe: he’ll never dream of that. Then off with his head and don’t forget to bring his eyes witli you to-morrow night ; for they are what I am very fond of.” The Princess bowed low, and assured him she would not forget the eyes when she came again. Then the Sprite opened the nr €jjt /rllnin-taflm mountain, and the Princess returned to the palace through the air ; hut John’s compan- ion followed close behind, and gave her such a whipping with his rod that she complained loudly of the violent hail-storm, till at last she slipped in at her chamber- window. But the stranger returned to his inn, where John still lay fast asleep, took his wings from his shoulders, and went to bed ; for he was, no doubt, pretty tired after so fatiguing a jour ney. It was still early when John awoke. He left his bed, and his companion got up too, and told him he had dreamed that night of the Princess and her shoe; wherefore he begged him to ask the Princess if it were not of her shoe she had thought. “ 1 can just as well say the shoe as any- thing else,” said John. “ Perhaps what you dreamed is right ; for I have the firm conviction that God will help me out of this dilemma. Notwithstanding, I will wish you farewell ; for should I not guess the Princess’s thoughts, I shall never see you more.” us €{j t ( ffllnin-€rnntler. The (wo travelers then embraced each other, and John bent his steps towards the town and the palace. The festal hall was filled with people; the judges sat in large arm-chairs, with soft cushions on which they leaned their heads because they were obliged to think so much. The old King got up as soon as he per- ceived John, and wiped his eyes with his white pocket-handkerchief. Then came the Princess. She was still more beautiful than yesterday, saluting every one in a most friendly manner, and, giving John her hand, said, “ Good morrow, worthy friend.” Now, then, John was to say on what the Princess was thinking. Ah, how tenderly she looked at him ! but as soon as she heard him utter the word “ Shoe !” she turned pale, and her whole frame began to tremble. That, however, availed her but little; for John had really guessed her thoughts. Well, how happy the old King was when he heard it ! He turned head over heels for sheer joy, and all present applauded him 119 tøfo /ellntn- tafler. and John, who, it was decided, had that day been victorious. Equally pleased was his companion when he told him how lucky he had been in the adventure ; but John folded his hands and thanked God for His gracious assistance, Who, he confidently hoped, would aid him in his need the other two days'. On the very next morning he was to guess the thoughts of the Princess for the second time. The evening of this day passed like the preceding one. When John was asleep, his comrade fled off to the Princess, and followed her to the enchanted mountain. This time he had provided himself with two rods, and whipped the poor Princess much more se- verely than the first time. No one saw him, yet he heard and understood all that passed in the hall of the mountain-dwarf. The Princess was to think this time on her glove, and he told it to John as if he had had a dream. John was enabled, therefore, to guess rightly on what the Princess had thought the second time, which caused undissemblod joy at the palace 120 &Jj i /rllom-tørnittltr. Every body at court now turned head over heels, as the King had done the first day; but the Princess lay on a sofa, and would not speak a word. Now, then, the third day was to be got over, — should that turn out well, then John would not only have the beautiful Princess for his wife, but would rule over the whole kingdom when the old King was dead. But could he not guess the Princess’s thoughts, he would lose his life, and the Dwarf of the mountain would devour his eyes. This evening Jciin went to bed earlier than usual, said his prayers, and fell into a quiet sleep. His comrade, on the contrary, fastened his swan’s wings on again, buckled his sabre round him, and put three rods into his pocket. Then off he Hew to the palace. The night was as dark as pitch ; there was such a violent storm that the tiles flew off the roofs, and the trees in the Princess’s park waved to and fro with the rattling skeletons of the princes that had been hanged. It lightened fearfully, and the thunders rolled so dreadfully that it was but L 121 fljB .Mntn-'tattltt. one continued war throughout the whole night. Now the window of the bedchamber flew open, and the Princess soared through the wildly agitated air. The paleness of death was on her face ; but she laughed at the storm, and thought it was not yet half bad enough. Her garments fluttered in the wind, and the man whipped her so unmercifully with his threefold rod that the blood flowed, and she could at last hardly fly any further. Finally she reached the mountain. “ It hails and it storms,” said she ; “ never have I flown in such a tempest !” “ It is possible to have too much of a good thing,” answered the goblin. Then the Princess related to him how John had rightly guessed her thoughts a second time as well. Should he be success- ful on the third day, the victory was his ; she would no longer be able to come to the mountain, nor could carry on any more witchcraft; and this disturbed her ixceed- ihgly. 11 He shall never guess on what you think C|l i .ffllnra-^rnnFlfr. this time,” said the fiend. “ I will lind out something on which he never thought : if he did, he must be a greater sorcerer than I am. Now let us be merry.” Saying these words, he seized the Prin- cess by the hand, danced with her round the hall, and all the little imps and wills-o’-the- wisp followed his example. The red spi- ders ran up and down the wall, so that they looked like flowers of fire; the owl beat his drum, the cricket sighed, and the black grasshoppers played the jews-harp ; in short, there was a regular witches’ ball. When the imps had danced enough, the Princess prepared to depart, for she feared 6he might be missed at the palace. Ihe Dwarf of the mountain said ho would ac- company her, that he might enjoy her com- pany the longer. They flew now through the air ; but tho man made such good use of his three rods, that the mountain-imp confessed he had never been in such a hail-storm before. Arrived at the palace, he bade the Prin- cess farewell, and whispered in her eat in €|jb Mnm-€ratirlEr. Think of my head !” But the man heard l e words ; and just as the Princess slipped into her bedchamber, and the imp turned round to go to his enchanted mountain, the stranger seized him by his black beard, and with the sabre hewed off his disgusting head close to his shoulders. The trunk he threw into the sea as food for the fishes ; but the head he dipped in the water, and then tied it up in a silken handkerchief. He carried it home with him to the inn, and laid down to sleep. On the following morning he handed the kerchief to John, begging him, however, not to open it before the Princess had proposed her question. The last day the large hall of the palace was so filled with people that they could not all find room enough, and they were there- fore obliged to stand on each other. The councillors sat as before in their easy arm- chairs, bolstered with cushions of eider- down ; and the old king was dressed in a new suit ; and the crown and the sceptre had been rubbed up and polished tremendously 124 €\ }i .ffllnm-'^rnntler. But the Princess was quite pale ; she was dressed in black, as though she were to at- tend a funeral. ‘•On what am I thinking at this mo- ment V’ asked she of John, who at the same instant opened his handkerchief, and was terribly frightened when he saw the horrid head of the mountain-imp within it. All the spectators shuddered with dread at tho sight; and the Princess sat as though she were petrified, — she was unable to utter a tvord. At last, however, she rose from her seat and gave John her snow-white hand; for he had now for the third time guessed her thoughts aright. Without looking at anyone, she merely said the words, “You are now my lord ; this evening we will hold the wedding.” “Now that pleases me,” said the old King; “and so it shall be.” Then the whole assembly shouted “ Hurrah !” the military band played through the streets, the bells rang, and the confectioners took their little sugar-work figures out of mourn* tug: there was nothing but joy in the town 125 /Bllmn-fianrlfr. Three whole roasted oxen, stuffed with ducki and fowls, were carried out to the market- place, where any one could eat of them and drink wine from the fountains. Whoever bought a roll at a baker’s got half-a-dozen plum-cakes into the bargain. In the evening the whole town was illu- minated ; the soldiers fired off cannons, and the boys in the street crackers ; everywhere was eating and drinking without end ; while at the palace the ladies and gentlemen danced together, and far below in the town was heard the song : “ Now let us be merry, and dance and sing : Let’s drink to the health of our good old king Now, then, pretty lasses, come join the round, The fiddles are playing, the tabors sound -, And he who’s not merry to-night, ha ! ha ! We’ll soon wake him up with a tra-la-la!” But the Princess was still a witch, and did not care for Jchn. His companion knew this ; so he gave him three feathers out of the wings of the swan, and a little phial with some drops, and desired him to have a lath ]t /jIloni-CrEntlw. placed near the bridal bed. Then when the Princess had retired to rest he was to give her a gentle push, so that she fell into the bath ; and then he was to hold her under the water three several times, having before- hand thrown in the three féathers and the drops. After this the Princess would be disenchanted, and would love him very much. John did what his faithful companion had desirea him: ’tis true, the Princess screamed aloud when he put her under water, and struggled with hands and feet. When she came up the first time she was like a jet-black swan, with fiery eyes; the second time she was changed into a white swan, only a black ring was round her neck. John now said a prayer, and held the bird under water for the third time : immediately it was changed into the most beautiful Prin- , cess ; she had become even more beautiful than she was before, and thanked her young consort with tears in her eyes for having freed her from enchantment. The following morning was devoted to r©- 7 €lr? Itllnm-frøbr. ceiving the visits of those who came to cot • gratulate the newly married couple. The King appeared with the rest with all his court, and there was wassailing and rejoic- ing throughout the day. At last John’s former traveling-companion appeared to congratulate him; but he had his staff in his hand, and carried the knap- sack at his back. John went to meet him, embraced him before all the assembly, and begged him pressingly not to go away, but to remain with him for ever, that he might share the good fortune which he owed to him with so dear a friend. But the strangei shook his head and said, “ My good John, that cannot be, for my time is at an end ; 1 have but paid my debt. Do you remember the dead man whom wicked persons would not allow to rest peaceably in his coffin 7 You gave all that you possessed that he might find rest in the grave. — That corpse am I !” As he said this he vanished. The wedding-festivities lasted a whole month ; John and the Princess loved each 128 Wyi .frllotn-Ærnnflrr. other dearly, and the old King lived many years and joyous days with his children, and let his merry grandchildren ride upon hi? knee, and play with the polished sceptre. But John reigned over the whole land, and became at last a very powerful monarch. CJt tølfin 3Hnutril. EYERAL large Lizards were running quickly in- to the cleft of an old tree they could understand each other perfectly, for they all spoke the lizard language. “ What a noise there is in the old Elfin mound !” said one of the Lizards. “ What a rumbling and uproar ! For tw » nights I nave not been able to close my 130 ■dfjj f Clfin jføottnil. eyes, and might just as well have had a toothache, for then I certainly should not have slept.” “There is a something going on there,” said the other Lizard. “They let the mound stand on four red poles till the crowing of the cock, to have it thoroughly aired ; and the Elfin damsels have learnt new dances, in which there is some stamping. A some- thing is going on, I’m sure.” “Yes; I have spoken to an Earthworm of my acquaintance,” said the third Lizard. “The Earthworm came direct from the mound, where day and night he had been rummaging about in the ground. He had heard a good deal ; for he can see nothing, poor wretch, but eaves-dropping and listen- ing he understands to perfection. Visitors are expected at the Elfin mound; visitors of rank, but who they were, the Earthworm either would not or could not say. All the Jacks-o’-the-lantern have been ordered to prepare a procession by torch-light ; and all the silver and gold, of which there is plenty ill i Jn the Elfin mound, will be polished and laid in the moonshine.” “ But who can the strangers be !” said all the Lizards. “What can be going on? Listen ! what a humming and buzzing !” At the same instant the Elfin mound opened, and an elderly Elfin damsel, with- out a back, but for the rest very respectably dressed, came tripping forth. It was the old Elfin King’s housekeeper ; she was dis- tantly related to him, and wore an amber heart on her forehead. Her feet were so nimble — trip — trap — trip — trap ! — how she skipped along, right away to the moor to the Night-raven. “ You will be invited to the Elfin mound, and that to-night,” said she. “ But would you not do us a great favor, and take charge of the invitations'? As you do not give parties yourself, you must do us this service. Strangers of high rank are coming to us ; magicians of no small importance, let me tell you ; and so the old Elfin King want« to show himself off to advantage.” 132 ÆJje élfin ftlnnnit. *' Who is to be invited V* asked the Night* raven. “Why, to the grand ball everybody may come; men even, if they do but speak in their sleep, or are able to do something in our way. But the principal banquet is to be very select ; those of the first rank only are to be invited. I have had a long dis- cussion with the Elfin King ; for, according to my notions, we cannot even ask ghosts. The Sea-god and his daughters must be in- vited first ; ’tis true, they don’t like much coming on dry land, but they will have pro- bably a wet stone to sit upon, or maybe something better still; and then, I think, they will not refuse for- this once. We must have the old Mountain Dwarfs of the first class, with tails ; the Elf of the Brook, and the Brownie; and then, I think, we must net omit the Swart Elf, and the Skeleton Horse: they belong, it is true, to the cleigy, who are not of our sort; however, ’tis their office, and they are, morever, nearly related to us and are continually paying us visits.’' 133 €§t flfin 3$atrai “ Caw !” said the Night-raven, and flew away to invite the company. The Elfin maidens were already dancing on the Elfin mound : they danced with long shawls, woven of haze and moonshine ; and to all w:io dke this sort of dancing, it seema pretty. In the centre of the Elfin mound was the great hall, splendidly ornamented ; the floor was washed with moonshine, and the walls were rubbed with witches’ fat, so that they shone in the light like tulip-leaves. In the kitchen there were a great quantity of frogs among the dishes ; adders’ skins, with little children’s fingers inside ; salad of mushroom- seed ; wet mice’s snouts and hemlock ; beer, from the brewery of the old Witch of the Moor ; sparkling saltpetre wine from a grave- cellar, — all very substantial eating : rusty nails and church-window glass were among the delicacies and kick-shaws. The Old Elfin King had his golden crown polished with pounded slate-pencil. It was the pencil of the head-scholar; and to obtain this one is very difficult for the Elfin King 134 Æjjt i£lfin jRlnnnii. They hung up the curtains in the bed- chamber, and fastened them with adder spittle. There was, indeed, a humming and a buzzing in the Elfin mound ! “ Now we must perfume the place with singed hair and pig’s bristles; and then 1 think I shall have done my share of the ousiness,” said the little Elfin damsel. “ Dear papa,” said the least of th< daughters, “shall I now know avIio the high visitors are 7” “ Well then,” said he, “ I suppose I must tell you. Two of my daughters are to show themselves off, in order to get married. Two will certainly be married. The age The Garden of Paradise • . . . . . 71 The Shepherdess and the Chimney-Sweep ... 105 Little Ida’s Flowers - .... • 117 The Daisy ...... * 13# New Year’s tvs , * 14* 'Si PART L HERE was one« upon a time a young woman, and she was so kind, so sweet-tempered, that every body loved her. Among the rest there was an old witch who lived near where *she dwelt, and with whom she was a great favorite. One day 7 liillt (Elite. she went to the old witch, and said to her : “ I would give anything to have a nice little child of my own : do but tell me how to ac- complish my wish !” “ Oh ! we’ll soon manage that !” replied the old witch. “ Look ye here at this barley- corn ! It is not like those that grow in the fields, or what the fowls are fed with. This you must plant in a flower-pot, and then wait and see what will happen.” “A thousand thanks!” said the other, putting some silver in the witch’s hand. She then went home and planted the barley- corn as the old woman had told her. A beautiful large flower soon shot up out of the flower-pot, but its leaves were all closed like buds that were soon to open. “What a beautiful flower!” said the wife, at the same time kissing the red and yellow leaves; but scarcely had she pressed her lips on the flower, when there was a loud report, and the calix opened. She now saw that it was a real tulip, and in the middle of the cup sat, on the still green seed-stalk, a charming little maiden, so debcate and 8 little i£Ilie. iovcly, and yet that was only an inch high on which account she gave her the name of “ Ellie.”* She made the baby a cradle out of a polished walnut-shell, gave her bine violets as mattress, and a rose-leaf for counterpane. In this cradle little Ellie slept at night; by day she played on the table. Here a plate full of water was placed, surrounded by a garland of flowers ihat dipped their stems in the water : in the middle, a large tulip- leaf was swimming, and on this Ellie was to sit, and to sail from one side of the plate to the other; and two white horse-hairs served as oars to row her boat with. All this looked exceedingly pretty; besides, Ellie could sing, and with so sweet a voice that the like nobody ever had heard. • This tale U called “ Ellise ” in the original ; a name given to the beautiful daughters of the fairy- people in the mythology of the North. As, however, to the English reader the word would not have con- veyed the original idea of a diminutive being, I pre- ferred giving the story the title I have. — I'hs Tram* urn. • little dille. One night, as she lay in her nice little bed, an ugly, yellow toad hopped in through the broken window-pane. The creature was large and ugly, and jumped right upon he table where Ellie lay" asleep under the iose-leaf. “ Why that would be a pretty wife for my son,” said the toad; then it seized with its mouth the nutshell in which Ellie was, and hopped with it through the window into the garden. Here was a large piece of water, but the banks were marshy ; and there the toad and her son lived. Faugh ! how ugly the son was! all spotted with green and yellow, just like his mother ; and all he had to say when he saw the pretty little maiden in the nutshell was, “ Croak ! Cr-rr-oa-oa-k ! Cr-r-r-oak !” “Don’t speak so loud,” said his mother: “ If you do, she may wake up and escape, for she is lighter than swans’ down. We will take her out on the river and put her on the leaf of a water-lily ; to her that wil be a large island ; and thence she cannot 10 tittlf (Eilif. escape; and we, meanwhile, will build a festal hall below in the mud, where you two shall live together.” Innumerable plants were growing in the water, with their broad green leaves looking as though they floated on the stream. The one that grew farthest off was at the same time the largest, and thither the old toad swam, and set the walnut-shell with the little maiden upon it. Poor little Ellie awoke early on the following morning; and when she looked about her and saw where she was, that her new dwelling was surrounded with water, and that there was no possible way by which she could get to land, she began to weep bitterly. The old toad sat, meanwhile, in the marsh, and decorated the hall with reeds and the leaves of the water-lily, so that it might look nice for her future daughter-in- law ; and then, in company with her fright- ful son, she swam to the island lily-leaf, where Ellie was. They wanted to fetch her pretty little bed, that it might at once b* ll littti cSIlit. placed in the chamber before Ellie herseh came there. The old toad bowed most politely to hei in the water, at the same time that she in- troduced her son with the words — “Here you behold my son ; he is to be youi husband; and you both can live togethei delightfully down below there in the mud !” “ Cr-oa-oa-oa-k ! Cr-oa-oa-oa-k ! Breckke- Kek!” was all the bridegroom could find to say in reply. On this they both took the charming little bed and swam away with it; but Ellie sat alone on the leaf and cried, for she could not bear to live with the ugly toad of a mamma, and still less to have her hideous son for a husband. The little fishes that swam below in the water had probably seen the toad, and heard what she said ; for they put up their heads that they might have a look at the little maiden. As soon as they had seen her, they were touched by her beauty, and they were very sorry that such a charming little damsel should become 12 littU (Elli? tlie prey of a nasty toad. The y therefore Assembled round the green stem on which the leaf grew where Elbe was, and gnawed it in two with their teeth ; and now leaf and Ellie, slowly and gently, floated down the stream, far away out of reach of the toad. Thus the little maiden sailed alon g, past towns and villages ; and when the 1 irds on the trees perceived her, they sang aloud, “ Oh, what a charming little maid !” But away, away floated the leaf, alwa/s further and further; Ellie was making quite a foreign voyage upon it. Then there came a small white butterfly, and after fluttering about a long time, settled at last on her ieaf, because Ellie pleased him; she, too, was glad of the visit; for she knew it would be impossible for the toad to overtake her now. The country ehe passed through was very beautiful ; and the sun shone on the water, making it glitter like gold. It now entered her head to take off her girdle, and bind one end of it to the butterfly, and the other to the leaf is little éilh, bo that it went along much quicker, and she got more expeditiously through the world, and saw a great deal more of its beauties and wonders. As she was thus sailing along so charm- ingly a cockchafer flew by, who laid hold of her thin waist with his long nippers, and flew away with her up into a tree, while the leaf of the water-lily, that was obliged to follow the butterfly, floated on ; for Elbe had bound him so firmly that he could not get loose. Oh, how frightened was poor Elbe when the cockchafer flew away with her into the tree ! She was, too, so sorry for the little butterfly, who now would perish, unless he could liberate himself from her girdle and the green leaf. But all this did not trouble the chafer ; he put her down on a large leaf, gave her honey to eat, which had been gathered from the flowers, and told her she was quite charmmg, although she was not at all like a chafer. Before long all the other cockchafers that 14 kived in the tree made their appearance, and paid their respects to Ellie, stared at hei from head to foot, while the young-lady chafers turned up thek feelers and said, “She has but two legs; and that looks very wretched. She has no feelers either,” said they; “and is, moreover, as small round the waist as a human being ! It’s very ugly, I declare ! it is really hideous !” cried out all the young-lady chafers at once. And yet our sweet Ellie was really the most engaging little being imaginable. And so the cockchafer that had carried her off thought too ; but because all the lady chafers said she was ugly, he began at last to think so himself, and therefore would have nothing more to say to her ; she might go where she chose, he said ; and with these words he flew with her over the ground, and set her on a daisy. The poor thing wept, because she was so ngly that not even a cockchafer would have anything to do with her. But, despite the opinion of the young-lady chafers, which was certainly a very important one, Elli« little (Elite. was the most lovely little creature in the world, as delicate and beautiful as a young rose-leaf. All that long summer poor Elbe lived quite alone, in the large forest. She wove herself a bed of fine grasses, which she then hung up under a burdock-leaf, that it might not be washed away by the rain. For food she gathered the honey from the flower- cups; and she drank the fresh dew that every morning stood in glittering drops upon the leaves. Thus passed the summer and autumn ; but now came the cold long winter. All the birds that had sung so prettily to Ellie forsook her now ; the trees lost their foliage, the flowers faded, and the large burdock- leaf, which hitherto had served her for shelter, shrunk together, till nothing but a dry yellow stalk was left, and she was so cold, for her clothes were in rags ; and she herself was so delicate and small ! Poor Ellie shivered; she was almost frozen to death ! It began, too, to snow, and every flak* 16 Eittlp Ællif. that struck her was as much to her as a whole shovel-full would be for us, her whole body being only an inch long. To protect herself from the weather, she wrap- ped herself up in a dead leaf ; but there was no warmth in it, and she trembled from head to foot with cold. Close to the wood where Ellie lay was a large corn-field ; but the corn had long been cut, and only the dried stubble now stood above the ground ; but to Ellie this was a wood, and hither she came. So she chanced to arrive at the house of a field- mouse, which consisted of a little hole among the roots of the corn-stubble. Here, warm and comfortable, dwelt the field- mouse ; she had her whole room stored full of corn for the winter; and besides it a nice little kitchen and larder. Poor Ellie ap- proached the door like a little beggar child, and prayed for a morsel of barley-corn to eat; for she had tasted nothing for two whole days. “Poor little thing!” said the field-mouse, who was very good-hearted ; “ come into S DO 17 littlt fllit. my warm room, and eat some of my bread.” And as Ellie pleased her, she sa : d, “Per- haps you would like to pass the winter in my house; but then you must keep my room clean, and tell me fairy tales to amuse me ; for that is what I like more than any thing.” Ellie did what the good mouse re- quired, and in return had a very comforta- ble life. “We shall soon have visitors,” said the field-mouse to her one day, soon after Ellie was settled in her place. “ My neighbor usually pays me a visit once a-week. He lives in much grander style than I ; for he has many splendid chambers, and wears costly fur. If you could get him for a hus- band, you were then well provided for; however, his sight is not very good. But you must not fail to tell him the prettiest stories, and sing for him the most touching songs, that you know.” But Ellie would listen to nothing of the sort; for she could not bear the sight o( their neighbor, because he was a mole. He really did come to pay the mouse a 18 littlt Ællii. visit ; and, true enough, had on fur as soft as velvet. He was very rich and very learned, the field-mouse said ; and his house was more than twenty times larger than hers. As to hi3 being learned, there was not a doubt about it; but he detested the sun and the gay flowers, and spoke of both with contempt, though he had never seen cither. Elbe was obliged to sing to him; so she sang two songs, “ Fly away, lady- bird, fly away home!” and “The priest goes to the field!” Her beautiful voice so pleased the mole, that he fell in love with her; but he took good care not to show it; for he was a most sensible personage. A short time before, he had made a long passage from his dwelling to that of his neighbor ; and he now gave Ellie and the mouse permission to walk in it as often as they pleased. He begged them, at the Bårne time, not to be frightened at the dead bird that lay at the entrance. It was, no doubt, a bird that had just died; for it had all its feathers on, and seemed to have been 13 buried at the spot where the mole had built his gallery. Neighbor mole then took a hit of touch- wood in his mouth, for it shines just like fire n the dark, and went before to light them through the dark passage; and when he came to the spot where the dead bird lay, he gave the earth a push with his snout, so that the mould rolled down and made a large opening, through which the daylight fell. Elbe could now see the dead bird quite well — it was a swallow. Its pretty wings were pressed close to its body, and its feet and head drawn back under the feathers. “ The poor bird is certainly frozen to death,” said Elbe; and she was heartily sorry for the poor animal, for she loved birds dearly, because they had sung to her the whole summer long. But the mole gave it a push with his foot / and said, “ There is an end of all his fine singing now ! It really must be a wretched existence to be a bird ! Thank heaven, my children won ; t be birds. Why, such a poci "n 20 little éllie. feathery thing has nothing in the wot d ex. cept his ‘chirp,’ ‘chirp,’ and whin win tel comes he must starve.” “Yes, indeed, you may well say that,” replied the mouse. “ And with all his fine ‘chirp,’ ‘chirp.’ what has a bird got when ■winter is come ? Starvation and cold, that’s all? But that I suppose is thought very grand.” Ellie was silent; but when the others turned their backs, she bent over the bird, put aside the feathers which lay over its head, and kissed its closed eyes. “ Perhaps it was you who sang me such pretty songs,” thought she. “How often have you delighted me, my dear, beautiful bird !” The mole then stopped up the opening again through which the daylight had entered, and escorted the two ladies home. But Ellie could not sleep that night. She got up out of bed, platted a mat of hay, carried it to where the dead bird was, spread it over him, and covered him up on etery side with soft cotton, which she had littit