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Fairy Tales and Stories ^ ^ 
 ^ By Hans Christian Andersen 
 
 Translated by Dr. H. W. Dulcken ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Chicago and New York ♦ « ♦ 
 Rand, McNally & Company 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 - The Silver Shilling 5 
 
 The Old Church Bell d 
 
 The Snail and the Rose Tree 14 
 
 - Little Ida's Flowers 16 
 
 The Tinder-Box 23 
 
 Great Claus and Little Glaus. , 29 
 
 Thumbelina 40 
 
 The Goloshes of Fortune 50 
 
 The Hardy Tin Soldier 76 
 
 The Story of a Mother 80 
 
 The Daisy 85 
 
 A Great Grief 89 
 
 - The Shirt Collar 91 
 
 Ole-Luk-Oie 93 
 
 - The Beetle 103 
 
 What the Old Man Does is Always Right Ill 
 
 - Good Humor 116 
 
 - Children's Prattle 120 
 
 The Flying Trunk 122 
 
 ■p The Last Pearl 127 
 
 The Storks 130 
 
 -^ Grandmother 134 
 
 — - The Ugly Duckling 136 
 
 h The Loveliest Rose in the World 145 
 
 Holger Danske 147 
 
 ~ The Puppet Showman , , . 152 
 
 A Picture from the Fortress Wall 156 
 
 ~ In the Duck Yard 157 
 
 The Red Shoes 162 
 
 Soup on a Sausage-Peg 168 
 
 The Shepherdess and the Chimney-Sweeper 181 
 
 -- The Old Street Lamp 186 
 
 ' The Lovers. 193 
 
 Little Tuk 195 
 
 (h ^ 
 A/ ^ 
 
 <l^^^ 
 
iv CONTENTS. 
 
 The Flax 199 
 
 The Girl who Trod on the Loaf , 203 
 
 The Money-Pig 211 
 
 The Darning-Needle 214 
 
 The Fir Tree 217 
 
 Something 225 
 
 A Leaf from the Sky 231 
 
 The Jewish Girl .234 
 
 The Elder Tree Mother 239 
 
 The Farmyard Cock and the Weather Cock 246 
 
 The Old Gravestone 248 
 
 The Old Bachelor's Nightcap 251 
 
 A Rose from the Grave of Homer 284 
 
 The Wind Tells about Waldemar Daa and His Daughters 265 
 
 Five Out of One Shell 276 
 
 The Metal Pig 279 
 
 The Snow Queen — In Seven Stories 290 
 
 The Nightingale 320 
 
 The Neighboring Families 329 
 
 The Little Match Girl 338 
 
 The Elf Hill 34p 
 
 The Buckwheat 347 
 
 The Old House 349 
 
 The Happy Family 856 
 
 The Rose-Elf = 359 
 
 The Shadow 364 
 
 The Angel 376 
 
 Twelve by the Mail 378 
 
 What the Moon Saw 382 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 THE SILVER SHILLING. 
 
 There was once a Shilling-. He came out quite bright 
 from the Mint, and sprang up, and rang out, "Hurrah ! now 
 I'm off into the wide world." And into the wide world he 
 certainly went. 
 
 The child held him with soft, warm hands; the miser 
 clutched him in a cold, avaricious palm ; the old man turned 
 him goodness knows how many times before parting with 
 him; while careless youth rolled him lightly away. The 
 Shilling was of silver, and had very little copper about him; 
 he had been now a whole year in the world — ^that is to say, 
 in the country in which he had been struck. But one day he 
 started on his foreign travels ; he was the last native coin in 
 the purse borne by his traveling master. The gentleman 
 himself was not aware that he still had this coin until he 
 came across it by chance. 
 
 "Why, here's a shilling from home left to me," he said. 
 "Well, he can make the journey with me." 
 
 And the Shilling rattled and jumped for joy as it was 
 thrust back into the purse. So here it lay among strange 
 companions, who came and went, each making room for a 
 successor; but the Shilling from home always remained in 
 the bag, which was a distinction for it. 
 
 Several weeks had gone by, and the Shilling had traveled 
 far out into the world without exactly knowing where he 
 was, though he learned from the other coins that they were 
 French or Italian. One said they were in such and such a 
 town, another that they had reached such and such a spot; 
 but the Shilling could form no idea of all this. He who has 
 his head in a bag sees nothing; and this was the case with 
 
6 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 the Shilling. But one day, as he lay there, he noticed that 
 the purse was not shut, and so he crept forward to the open- 
 ing, to take a look around. He ought not to have done so; 
 but he was inquisitive, and people often have to pay for 
 that. He slipped out into the fob; and when the purse was 
 taken out at night the Shilling remained behind, and was 
 sent out into the passage with the clothes. There he fell 
 upon the floor; no one heard it, no one saw it. 
 
 Next morning the clothes were carried back into the 
 room; the gentleman put them on, and continued his jour- 
 ney, while the Shilling remained behind. The coin was 
 found, and was required to go into service again, so he was 
 sent out with three other coins. 
 
 "It is a pleasant thing to look about one in the world," 
 thought the Shilling, "and to get to know strange people 
 and foreign customs." 
 
 And now began the history of the Shilling, as told by 
 himself. 
 
 " 'Away with him, he's bad — no use !' These words went 
 through and through me," said the Shilling. "I knew I 
 sounded well and had been properly coined. The people 
 were certainly mistaken. They could not mean me! but, 
 yes, they did mean me. I was the one of whom they said, 
 'He's bad — he's no good.' T must get rid of that fellow in 
 the dark,' said the man who had received me; and I was 
 passed at night and abused in the daytime. 'Bad — no 
 good,' was the cry; 'we must make haste and get rid of 
 him.' 
 
 "And I trembled in the fingers of the holder each time I 
 was to be passed on as a coin of the country. 
 
 "What a miserable Shilling I am! Of what use is my 
 silver to me, my value, my coinage, if all these things are 
 looked on as worthless? In the eyes of the world one has 
 only the value the world chooses to put upon one. It must 
 be terrible indeed to have a bad conscience, and to creep 
 along on evil ways, if I, who am quite innocent, can feel so 
 badly because I am only thought guilty. 
 
 "Each time I was brought out I shuddered at the thought 
 of the eyes that would look at me, for I knew that I should 
 be rejected and flung back upon the table, like an impostor 
 and a cheat. Once I came into the hands of a poor old 
 woman, to whom I was paid for a hard day's work, and she 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 7 
 
 could not get rid of me at all. No one would accept me, 
 and I was a perfect worry to the old dame. 
 
 " 'I shall certainly be forced to deceive someone with this 
 shilling,' she said; 'for, with the best will in the world, I 
 can't hoard up a false shilling. The rich baker shall have 
 him; he will be able to bear the loss — but it's wrong in me to 
 do it, after all.' 
 
 " 'And I must lie heavy on that woman's conscience, too,' 
 sighed I. 'Am I really so much changed in my old age?' 
 
 "And the woman went her way to the rich baker; but he 
 knew too well what kind of shillings would pass to take me, 
 and he threw me back at the woman, who got no bread for 
 me. And I felt miserably low to think that I should be the 
 cause of distress to others — I who had been in my young 
 days so proudly conscious of my value and of the correct- 
 ness of my mintage. I became as miserable as a poor shil- 
 ling can be whom no one will accept; but the woman took 
 me home again, and looked at me with a friendly, hearty 
 face, and said: 
 
 " 'No, I will not deceive anyone with thee. I will bore a 
 hole through thee, that everyone may see thou art a false 
 thing. And yet — it just occurs to me — perhaps this is a 
 lucky shilling; and the thought comes so strongly upon me 
 that I am sure it must be true! I will make a hole through 
 the shilling, and pass a string through the hole, and hang 
 the coin round the neck of my neighbor's little boy for a 
 lucky shilling.' 
 
 "So she bored a hole through me. It is certainly not 
 agreeable to have a hole bored through one; but many 
 things can be borne when the intention is good. A thread 
 was passed through the hole, and I became a kind of medal, 
 and was hung round the neck of the little child; and the 
 child smiled at me, and kissed me, and I slept all night on 
 its warm, innocent neck. 
 
 "When the morning came, the child's mother took me up 
 in her fingers and looked at me, and she had her own 
 thoughts about me ; I could feel that very well. She brought 
 out a pair of scissors, and cut the string through. 
 
 "'A lucky shilling!' she said. 'Well, we shall soon see 
 that.' 
 
 "And she laid me in vinegar, so that I turned quite green. 
 Then she plugged up the hole, and carried me in the even- 
 
8 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 ing twilight, to the lottery collector, to buy a lottery ticket 
 that should bring her luck. 
 
 "How miserably wretched I felt! There was a stinging 
 feeling in me, as if I should crumble to bits. I knew that I 
 should be called false and thrown down — and before a 
 crowd of shillings and other coins, too, who lay there with 
 an image and superscription of which they might be proud. 
 But I escaped that disgrace, for there were many people in 
 the collector's room; he had a great deal to do, and I went 
 rattling down into the box among the other coins. Whether 
 my ticket won anything or not I don't know; but this I do 
 know, that the very next morning I was recognized as a 
 bad shilling, and was sent out to deceive and deceive again. 
 That is a very trying thing to bear when one knows one has 
 a good character, and of that I am conscious. 
 
 "For a year and a day I thus wandered from house to 
 house and from hand to hand, always abused, always un- 
 welcome; no one trusted me; and I lost confidence in the 
 world and in myself. It was a heavy time. At last, one 
 day a traveler, a strange gentlem^an, arrived, and I was 
 passed to him, and he was polite enough to accept me for 
 current coin; but he wanted to pass me on, and again I 
 heard the horrible cry, 'No use — false!' 
 
 " T received it as a good coin,' said the man, and he 
 looked closely at me; suddenly he smiled all over his face; 
 and I had never seen that expression before on any face 
 that looked at me. 'Why, whatever is that?' he said. 'That's 
 one of our own country coins, a good, honest shilling from 
 my home, and they've bored a hole through him, and they 
 called him false. Now, this is a curious circumstance. I 
 must keep him and take him home with me.' 
 
 "A glow of joy thrilled through me when I heard myself 
 called a good, honest shilling; and now I was to be taken 
 home, where each and everyone would know me, and be 
 sure that I was real silver and properly coined. I could 
 have thrown out sparks for very gladness ; but, after all, it's 
 not in my nature to throw out sparks, for that's the property 
 of steel, not of silver. 
 
 "1 was wrapped up in clean white paper, so that I should 
 not be confounded with the other coins and spent; and on 
 festive occasions, when fellow-countrymen met together, I 
 was shown about, and they spoke very well of me; they said 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 9 
 
 I was interesting — and it is wonderful how interesting one 
 can be without saying a single word. 
 
 "And at last I got home again. All my troubles were 
 ended, joy came back to me, for I was of good silver, and 
 had the right stamp, and I had no more disagreeables to en- 
 dure, though a hole had been bored through me, as through 
 a false coin; but that does not matter if one is not really 
 false. One must wait for the end, and one will be righted at 
 last — that's my belief," said the Shilling. 
 
 THE OLD CHURCH BELL. 
 
 In the German land of Wurtemberg, where the acacias 
 bloom by the high road, and the apple trees and pear trees 
 bend in autumn under their burden of ripe fruit, lies the 
 little town of Marbach. Although this place can only be 
 ranked among the smaller towns, it is charmingly situated 
 on the Neckar stream, that flows on and on, hurrying past 
 villages and old castles and green vineyards, to pour its 
 waters into the proud Rhine. 
 
 It was late in autumn. The leaves still clung to the 
 grapevine, but they were already tinged with red. Rainy 
 gusts swept over the country, and the cold autumn winds 
 increased in violence and roughness. It was no pleasant 
 time for poor folk. 
 
 The days became shorter and gloomier; and if it was dark 
 out in the open air, in the little old-fashioned houses it was 
 darker still. One of these houses was built with its gable end 
 toward the street, and stood there, with its small, narrow 
 windows, humble and poor enough in appearance ; the fam- 
 ily was poor, too, that inhabited the little house, but good 
 and industrious, and rich in a treasure of piety concealed in 
 the depth of the heart. And they expected that God would 
 soon give them another child; the hour had come, and the 
 mother lay in pain and sorrow. Then from the church 
 tower opposite the deep, rich sound of the bell came to her. 
 It was a solemn hour, and the song of the bell filled the 
 heart of the praying woman with trustfulness and faith ; the 
 thoughts of her inmost heart soared upward toward the Al- 
 mighty, and in the same hour she gave birth to a son. Then 
 
10 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 she was filled with a great joy, and the bell of the tower op- 
 posite seemed to be ringing to spread the news of her hap- 
 piness over town and country. The clear child-eyes looked 
 at her, and the infant's hair gleamed like gold. Thus was 
 the little one ushered into the world with the ringing of the 
 church bell on the dark November day. The mother and 
 father kissed it, and wrote in their Bible: "On the loth of 
 November, 1759, 'God gave us a son;" and soon afterward 
 the fact was added that the child had been baptized under 
 the name of "Johann Christoph Friedrich." 
 
 And what became of the little fellow, the poor boy in the 
 pretty town of Marbach? Ah, at that time no one knew 
 what would become of him, not even the old church bell 
 that had sung at his birth, hanging so high in the tower, 
 over him who was one day himself to sing the beautiful 
 "Lay of the Bell." 
 
 Well, the boy grew older, and the world grew older with 
 him. His parents certainly removed to another town, but 
 they had left dear friends in little Marbach; and thus it was 
 that mother and son one day arose and drove over to Mar- 
 bach on a visit. The lad was only six years old, but he al- 
 ready knew many things out of the Bible, and many a pious 
 psalm; and many an evening he had sat on his little stool 
 listening while his father read aloud from "Gellert's Fables," 
 or from the lofty "Messiah" of Klopstock; and he and his 
 sister, who was his senior by two years, had wept hot tears 
 of pity for Him who died on the cross that we might live 
 eternally. 
 
 At the time of this first visit to Marbach the little town 
 had not greatly changed; and indeed they had not long left 
 it. The houses stood as on the day of the family's de- 
 parture, with their pointed gables, projecting walls, the 
 higher stories leaning over the lower, and their tiny win- 
 dows; but there were new graves in the churchyard; and 
 there, in the grass, hard by the wall, lay the old bell. It 
 had fallen from its position, and had sustained such damage 
 that it could sound no more, and accordingly a new bell had 
 been put in its place. 
 
 Mother and son went into the churchyard. They stopped 
 where the old bell lay, and the mother told the boy how for 
 centuries this had been a very usetul bell, and had rung at 
 christenings, at weddings, and at burials; how it had sooken 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 11 
 
 at one time to tell of feasts and rejoicings, at another to 
 spread the alarm of fire; and how it had, in fact, sung the 
 whole life of man. And the boy never forgot what his 
 mother told him that day. It resounded and echoed at in- 
 tervals in his heart, until, when he was grown a man, he 
 was compelled to sing it. The mother told him also how 
 the bell had sung of faith and comfort to her in the time of 
 her peril, that it had sung at the time when he, her little son, 
 was born. And the boy gazed, almost with a feeling of de- 
 votion, at the great old bell; and he bent over it and kissed 
 it, as it lay all rusty and broken among the long grass and 
 nettles. 
 
 The old bell was held in kindly remembrance by the boy, 
 who grew up in poverty, tall and thin, with reddish hair and 
 freckled face — yes, that's how he looked; but he had a pair 
 of eyes, clear and deep as the deepest water. And what for- 
 tune had he? Why, good fortune, enviable fortune. We 
 find him graciously received into the military school, and 
 even in the department where sons of people in society were 
 taught, and was that not honor and fortune enough? And 
 they educated him to the v/ords of command, "Halt! 
 march! front!" and on such a system much might be ex- 
 pected. 
 
 Meanwhile the old church bell had been almost com- 
 pletely forgotten. But it was to be presumed that the bell 
 would find its way into the furnace, and what would become 
 of it then? It was impossible to say, and equally impossible 
 to tell what sounds would come forth from the bell that kept 
 echoing through the young heart of the boy from Marbach ; 
 but that bell was of bronze, and kept sounding so loud that 
 it must at last be heard out in the wide world ; and the more 
 cramped the space within the school walls, and the more 
 deafening the dreary shout of "March! halt! front!" the 
 louder did the sound ring through the youth's breast; and 
 he sang what he felt in the circle of his companions, and the 
 sound was heard beyond the boundaries of the principality. 
 But it was not for this that they had given him a presenta- 
 tion to the military school, and board, and clothing. Had 
 he not been already numbered and destined to be a certain 
 wheel in the great watchwork to which we all belong as 
 pieces of practical machinery? How imperfectly do we un- 
 derstand ourselves! and how, then, shall others, even the 
 
12 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 best men, understand us? But it is the pressure that forms 
 the precious stone. There was pressure enough here; but 
 would the world be able, some day, to recognize the jewel? 
 
 In the capital of the prince of the country, a great festival 
 was being celebrated. Thousands of candles and lamps 
 gleamed brightly, and rockets flew toward the heavens in 
 streams of fire. " The splendor of that day yet lives in the 
 remembrance of men, but it lives through him, the young 
 scholar of the military school, who was trying in sorrow 
 and tears to escape unperceived from the land ; he was com- 
 pelled to leave all— mother, native country, those he loved— 
 unless he could resign himself to sink into the stream of 
 oblivion among his fellows. 
 
 The old bell was better ofi than he, for the bell would re- 
 main peaceably by the churchyard wall in Marbach, safe, 
 and almost forgotten. The wind whistled over it, and might 
 have told a fine tale of him at whose birth the bell had 
 sounded, and over whom the wind had but now blown cold 
 in the forest of a neighboring land, where he had sunk down, 
 exhausted by fatigue, wdth his wdiole wealth, his only hope 
 for the future, the written pages of his tragedy "Fiesco:" 
 the wind might have told of the youth's only patrons, men 
 who were artists, and who yet slunk away to amuse them- 
 selves at skittles while his play was being read; the wind 
 could have told of the pale fugitive, who sat for weary weeks 
 and months in the wretched tavern, where the host brawled 
 and drank, and coarse boozing was going on while he sang 
 of the ideal. Heavy days, dark days! The heart must suf- 
 fer and endure for itself the trials it is to sing. 
 
 Dark days and cold nights also passed over the old bell. 
 The iron frame did not feel them, but the bell within the 
 heart of man is affected by gloomy times. How fared it 
 with the young man? How fared it with the old bell. The 
 bell was carried far away, farther than its sound could have 
 been heard from the loftv tower in which it had once hung. 
 And the youth? The bell in his heart sounded farther than 
 his eye should ever see or his foot should ever wander; it is 
 sounding and sounding on, over the ocean, round the Avhole 
 earth. But let us firsf speak of the belfry bell. It was car- 
 ried awav from T^Tarbach, was sold for old metal, and des- 
 tined for the melting furnace in Bavaria. But when and how 
 did this happen? 'in the capital of Bavaria, many years 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES, 13 
 
 after the bell had fallen from the tower, there was a talk of 
 its being melted down, to be used in the manufactory of a 
 memorial in honor of one of the great ones of the German 
 land. And behold how suitable this was — how strangely 
 and wonderfully things happened in the world! In Den- 
 mark, on one of those green islands where the beech woods 
 rustle, and the many Huns' graves are to be seen, quite a 
 poor boy had been born. He had been accustomed to walk 
 about in wooden shoes, and to carry a dinner wrapped in an 
 old handkerchief to his father, who carved figureheads on 
 the ship-builders' wharves; but this poor lad had become 
 the pride of his country, for Thorwaldsen knew how to hew 
 marble blocks into such glorious shapes as made the whole 
 world wonder, and to him had been awarded the honorable 
 commission that he should fashion of clay a noble form that 
 was to be cast in bronze — a statue of him whose name the 
 father in Marbach had inscribed in the old Bible as Johann 
 Christoph Friedrich. 
 
 And the glowing metal flowed into the mold. The old 
 belfry bell — of whose home and of whose vanished sounds 
 no one thought — this very old bell flowed into the mold, and 
 formed the head and bust of the figure that was soon to be 
 unveiled, which now stands in Stuttgart, before the old 
 palace — a representation of him who once walked to and 
 fro there, striving and suffering, harassed by the world with- 
 out — he, the boy of Marbach, the pupil of the "Karlschule," 
 the fugitive, Germany's great immortal poet, who sang of 
 the Hberator of Switzerland and of the Heaven-inspired 
 Maid of Orleans. 
 
 It was a beautiful, sunny day; flags were waving from 
 roofs and steeples in the royal city of Stuttgart; the bells 
 rang for joy and festivity; one bell alone was silent, but it 
 gleamed in another form in the bright sunshine — it gleamed 
 from the head and breast of the statue of honor. On that 
 day, exactly one hundred years had elapsed since the day on 
 which the bell at Marbach had sung comfort and peace to 
 the suffering mother, when she bore her son, in poverty, in 
 the humble cottage — him who was afterward to become the 
 rich man, whose treasures enriched the world, the poet who 
 sang of the noble virtues of women, who sang of all that 
 was great and glorious — Johann Christoph Friedrich Schil- 
 ler. 
 
14 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 THE SNAIL ANiD THE ROSE TREE. 
 
 Around the garden ran a hedge of hazels; beyond this 
 hedge lay fields and meadows, wherein were cows and 
 sheep; but in the midst of the garden stood a blooming Rose 
 Tree; and under this Rose Tree lived a Snail, who had a 
 good' deal in his shell — namely, himself. 
 
 "Wait till my time comes!" he said; "I shall do some- 
 thing more than produce roses, bear nuts, or give milk, like 
 the Rose Tree, the hazel bush, and the cows !" 
 
 "I expect a great deal of you," said the Rose Tree. "But 
 may I ask when it will appear?" 
 
 "I take my time," replied the Snail. "You're always in 
 such a hurry. You don't rouse people's interest by sus- 
 pense." 
 
 When the next year came, the Snail lay almost in the 
 same spot, in the sunshine under the Rose Tree, which again 
 bore buds that bloomed into roses, until the snow fell and 
 the weather became raw and cold; then the Rose Tree 
 bowed its head, and the Snail crept into the ground. 
 
 A new year began, and the roses came out, and the Snail 
 came out also. 
 
 "You're an old Rose Tree now!" said the Snail. You 
 must make haste and come to an end, for you have given 
 the world all that was in you; whether it was of any use is a. 
 question that I have had no time to consider ; but so much is 
 clear and plain, that you have done nothing at all for your 
 own development, or you would have produced something 
 else. How can you answer for that? In a little time you 
 will be nothing at all but a stick. Do you understand what 
 I say?" 
 
 "You alarm me," replied the Rose Tree. "I never thought 
 
 of that at all." 
 
 "No, you have not taken the trouble to consider anything. 
 Have you ever given an account to yourself, why you 
 bloomed, and how it is that your blooming comes about— 
 why it is thus, and not otherwise?" 
 
 "No," answered the Rose Tree. "I bloomed m gladness, 
 because I could not do anything else. The sun shone and 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TAL/ES. 15 
 
 warmed me, and the air refreshed me. I drank the pure dew 
 and the fresh rain, and I Hved, I breathed. Out of the earth 
 there arose a power within me, from above there came down 
 a strength; I perceived a new, ever-increasing happiness, 
 and consequently I was obHged to bloom over and over 
 again; that was my life; I could not do otherwise." 
 
 "You have led a very pleasant Hfe," observed the Snail. 
 
 "Certainly. Everything I have was given to me," said 
 the Rose Tree. "But more still was given to you. You 
 are one of those deep, thoughtful characters, one of those 
 highly gifted spirits, which will cause the world to marvel." 
 
 "I've no intention of doing anything of the kind," cried 
 the Snail. "The world is nothing to me. What have I to 
 do with the world? I have enough of myself and in my- 
 self." 
 
 "But must we not all, here on earth, give to others the 
 best that we have and offer what lies in our power? Cer- 
 tainly I have only given roses. But you — you who have 
 been so richly gifted — what have you given to the world? 
 what do you intend to give?" 
 
 "What have I given — what do I intend to give? I spit 
 at it. It's worth nothing. It's no business of mine. Con- 
 tinue to give your roses, if you like; you can't do anything 
 better. Let the hazel bush bear nuts, and the cows and 
 ewes give milk; they have their public; but I have mine 
 within myself — I retire within myself, and there I remain; 
 the world is nothing to me." 
 
 And so saying the Snail retired into his house, and closed 
 up the entrance after him. 
 
 "That is very sad !" said the Rose Tree. "I cannot creep 
 into myself, even if I wish it — I must continue to produce 
 roses. They drop their leaves and are blown away by the 
 wind. But I saw how a rose was laid in the matron's hymn- 
 book, and one of my roses had a place on the bosom of a 
 fair young girl, and another was kissed by the lips of a child 
 in the full joy of life. That did me good ; it was a real bless- 
 ing. That's my remembrance — my life !" 
 
 And the Rose Tree went on blooming in innocence, while 
 the Snail lay and idled away his time in his house — the 
 world did not concern him. 
 
 And years rolled by. 
 
 The Snail had become dust in the dust, and the Rose 
 
16 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 Tree was earth in the earth ; the rose of remembrance in the 
 hymn-book was faded, but in the garden bloomed fresh 
 rose trees, and under the trees lay new snails; and these 
 still crept into their houses, and spat at the world, for it did 
 not concern them. 
 
 Suppose we begin the story again, and read it right 
 through. It will never alter. 
 
 LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS. 
 
 "My poor flowers are quite dead!" said little Ida. "They 
 were so pretty yesterday, and now all the leaves hang 
 withered. Why do they do that?'' she asked the student, 
 who sat on the sofa; for she liked him very much. He knew 
 the prettiest stories, and could cut out the most amusing 
 pictures — hearts, with little ladies in them who danced, 
 flowers, and great castles, in which one could open the 
 doors ; he vvas a merry student. "Why do the flowers look 
 so faded to-day?" she asked again, and shovv'ed him a nose- 
 gay, which was quite withered. 
 
 "Do you know what's the matter ^^^th them?" said the 
 student. "The flowers have been at a ball last night, and 
 that's why they hang their heads." 
 
 "But flowers cannot dance !" cried little Ida. 
 
 "Oh, yes," said the student, "when it grows dark, and we 
 are asleep, they jump about merrily. Almost every night 
 they have a ball." 
 
 "Can children go to this ball?" 
 
 "Yes," said the student, "quite little daisies, and lilies of 
 the valley." 
 
 "Where do the beautiful flowers dance?" asked little Ida. 
 
 "Have you not often been outside the town-gate, by the 
 great castle, where the King lives in summer, and where the 
 beautiful garden is with all the flowers. You have seen the 
 swans, which swim up to you when you want to give them 
 bread-crumbs? There are capital balls there, believe me." 
 
 "I was out there in the garden yesterday, with my 
 mother," said Ida; "but all the leaves were off the trees, and 
 there was not one flower left. Where are they? In the 
 summer I saw so many." 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 17 
 
 "They are within, in the castle," repHed the student 
 "You must know, as soon as the King and all the Court go 
 to town, the flowers run out of the garden into the castle 
 and are merry. You should see that. The two most beau- 
 !;•• tiful roses seat themselves on the throne, and then they are 
 i-'J^King and Queen; all the red coxcombs range themselves 
 jPr. on either side, and stand and bow; they are the chamber- 
 lains. Then all the pretty flowers come, and there is a great 
 ball. The blue violets represent little naval cadets; they 
 dance with the hyacinths and crocuses, which they call 
 young ladies ; the tulips and great tiger-lilies are old ladies, 
 who keep watch that the dancing is well done, and that 
 everything goes on with propriety." 
 
 "But," asked little Ida, "is nobody there who hurts the 
 flowers for dancing in the King's castle?" 
 
 "There is nobody who really knows about it," answered 
 the student. "Sometimes, certainly, the old steward of the 
 castle comes at night, and he has to watch there. He has a 
 great bunch of keys with him; but as soon as the flowers 
 hear the keys rattle they are quite quiet, hide behind the 
 long curtains, and only poke their heads out. Then the old 
 steward says, T smell that there are flowers here,' but he 
 cannot see them." 
 
 "That is famous!" cried little Ida, clapping her hands. 
 "But should I not be able to see the flowers?'' 
 
 "Yes," said the student; "only remember, when you go 
 out again, to peep through the window; then you will see 
 them. That is what I did to-day. There was a long yellow 
 lily tying on the sofa and stretching herself. She was a 
 Court lady." 
 
 "Can the flowers out of the Botanical Garden get there? 
 Can they go the long distance?" 
 
 "Yes, certainly," replied the student; "if they like they 
 can fly. Have you not seen the beautiful butterflys, red, 
 yellow, and white? They almost look like flowers, and that 
 is what they have been. They have flown of¥ their stalks 
 high into the air, and have beaten it with their leaves, as if 
 these leaves were little wings, and thus they flew. And be- 
 cause they behaved themselves Vv^ell, they got leave to fly 
 about in the day-time, too, and were not obliged to sit still 
 upon their stalks at home; and thus at last the leaves be- 
 came real wings. That you have seen yourself. It may be, 
 
18 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 however, that the flowers in the Botanical Garden have 
 never been in the King's castle, or that they don't know of 
 the merry proceedings there at night. Therefore I will tell 
 you something; he will be very much surprised, the botani- 
 cal professor, who lives close by here. You know him, do 
 you not? When you come into his garden, you must tell 
 one of the flowers that there is a great ball yonder at the 
 castle. Then that flower will tell it to all the rest, and then 
 they wnll fly away; when the professor comes out into the 
 garden there will not be a single flower left, and he won't 
 be able to make out where they are gone.*' 
 
 "But how can one flower tell it to another? For you 
 know flowers cannot speak.'' 
 
 'That they cannot, certainly," replied the student; "but 
 then they make signs. Have you not noticed that when the 
 wind blows a little the flowers nod at one another and move 
 all their green leaves? They can understand that just as 
 well as we when we speak together." 
 
 "Can the professor understand these signs?" asked Ida. 
 
 "Yes, certainly. He came one morning into his garden 
 and saw a great stinging-nettle standing there, and making 
 signs to a beautiful red carnation with its leaves It was 
 saying, 'You are so pretty, and I love you with all my 
 heart.' But the professor does not like that kind of thing, 
 and he directly slapped the stinging-nettle upon its leaves, 
 for those are its fingers; but he stung himself, and since that 
 time he has not dared to touch a stinging-nettle." 
 
 "That is funny," cried little Ida; and she laughed. 
 
 "How can anyone put such notions into a child's head?" 
 said the tiresome privy councilor, who had come to pay a 
 visit, and was sitting on the sofa. He did not like the stu- 
 dent, and always grumbled when he saw him cutting out 
 the merry funny pictures — sometimes a man hanging on a 
 gibbet and holding a heart in his hand, to show that he stole 
 hearts; sometimes an old witch riding on a broom and car- 
 rying her husband on her nose. The councilor could not 
 bear this, and then he said, just as he did now, "How can 
 anyone put such notions into a child's head? Those are 
 stupid fancies!" 
 
 But, to little Ida, what the student told her about her 
 flowers seemed very droll; and she thought much about it. 
 The flowers hung their heads, for they were tired, because 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 19 
 
 they had danced all night: they were certainly ill. Then 
 she went with them to her other toys, which stood on a 
 pretty little table, and the whole drawer was full of beautiful 
 things. In the doll's bed lay her doll Sophy, asleep; but 
 little Ida said to her: 
 
 "You must really get up, Sophy, and manage to lie in the 
 drawer for to-night. The poor flowers are ill, and they 
 must lie in your bed; perhaps they will then get well 
 again." 
 
 And she at once took the doll out; but the doll looked 
 cross, and did not say a single word; for she was cross be- 
 cause she could not keep her own bed. 
 
 Then Ida laid the flowers in the doll's bed, pulled the little 
 coverlet quite up over them, and said they were to lie still 
 and be good, and she would make them some tea, so that 
 they might get well again, and be able to get up to-morrow. 
 And she drew the curtains closely round the little bed, so 
 that the sun should not shine in their eyes. The whole even- 
 ing through she could not help thinking of what the student 
 had told her. And when she was going to bed herself, she 
 was obliged first to look behind the curtain which hung be- 
 fore the windows where her mother's beautiful flowers stood 
 — hyacinths as well as tulips; then she whispered, 'T know 
 you're going to the ball to-night!" But the flowers made 
 as if they did not understand a word, and did not stir a leaf; 
 but still little Ida knew what she knew. 
 
 When she was in bed she lay for a long time thinking how 
 pretty it must be to see the beautiful flowers dancing out in 
 the King's castle. "I wonder if my flowers have really been 
 there?" And then she fell asleep. In the night she woke 
 again: she had dreamed of the flowers, and of the student 
 with whom the councilor found fault. It was quite quiet in 
 the bedroom where Ida lay; the night-lamp burned on the 
 table, and her father and mother were asleep. 
 
 'T wonder if my flowers are still lying in Sophy's bed?'' 
 she thought to herself. "How I should like to know it!" 
 She raised herself a little, and looked at the door, which 
 stood ajar; within lay the flowers and all her playthings. 
 She listened, and then it seemed to her as if she heard some- 
 one playing on the piano in the next room, but quite softly 
 and prettily, as she had never heard it before. "Now all 
 the flowers are certainly dancing in there!" thought she. 
 
20 ANDEPuSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "Oh, how glad I should be to see it!" But she dared not 
 get up, for she would have disturbed her father and mother. 
 
 "If they would only come in!'' thought she. But the 
 flowers did not come, and the music continued to play beau- 
 tifully; then she could not bear it any longer, for it was too 
 pretty; she crept out of her little bed, and went quietly to 
 the door, and looked into the room. Oh, how splendid it 
 was, what she saw! 
 
 There was no night-lamp burning, but still it was quite 
 light: the moon shone through the window into the middle 
 of the floor; it was almost like day. All the hyacinths and 
 tulips stood in two long rows in the room; there were none 
 at all left at the window. There stood the empty flower-pots. 
 On the floor all the flowers were dancing very gracefully 
 round each other, making perfect turns, and holding each 
 other by the long green leaves as they swung round. But 
 at the piano sat a great yellow lily which little Ida had cer- 
 tainly seen in summer, for she remembered how the student 
 had said, "How like that one is to Miss Lina." Then he 
 had been laughed at by all; but now it seemed really to little 
 Ida as if the long yellow flower looked like the young lady; 
 and it had just her manners in playing — sometimes bend- 
 ing its long yellow face to one side, sometimes to the other, 
 and nodding in tune to the charming music! No one noticed 
 little Ida. Then she saw a great blue crocus hop into the 
 middle of the table, where the toys stood, and go to the 
 doll's bed and pull the curtains aside: there lay the sick 
 flowers, but they got up directly, and nodded to the others, 
 to say that they wanted to dance, too. The old chimney- 
 sweep doll, whose under lip Avas broken off, stood up and 
 bowed to the pretty flowers: these did not look at all ill now; 
 they jumped down to the others, and were very merry. 
 
 Then it seemed as if something fell down from the table. 
 Ida looked that way. It was the birch rod which was jump- 
 ing down! it seemed almost as if it belonged to the flowers. 
 At any rate, it was very neat ; and a little wax doll, with just 
 such a broad hat on its head as the councilor wore, sat upon 
 it. The birch rod hopped about among the flowers on its 
 three stilted legs, and stamped quite loud, for it was dancing 
 the mazurka; and the other flowers could not manage that 
 dance, because thev were too light, and unable to stam.p like 
 that. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 21 
 
 The wax doll on the birch rod all at once became quite 
 great and long, turned itself over the paper flowers, and 
 said, "How can one put such things in a child's head? those 
 are stupid fancies!'' and then the wax doll was exactly like 
 the councilor with the broad hat, and looked just as yellow 
 and cross as he. But the paper flowers hit him on his thin 
 legs, and then he shrank up again, and became quite a little 
 wax doll. That was very amusing to see; and little Ida 
 could not restrain her laughter. The birch rod went on 
 dancing, and the councilor was obliged to dance too ; it was 
 no use, he might make himself great and long, or remain 
 the little yellow wax doll with the big black hat. Then the 
 other flowers put in a good word for him, especially those 
 who had lain in the doll's bed, and then the birch rod gave 
 over. At the same moment there was a loud knocking at 
 the drawer, inside where Ida's doll, Sophy, lay with many 
 other toys. The chimney-sweep ran to the edge of the table, 
 lay flat down on his stomach, and began to pull the drawer 
 out a little. Then Sophy raised herself, and looked round 
 quite astonished. 
 
 "There must be a ball here," said she; "why did nobody 
 tell me?" 
 
 "Will you dance with me?" asked the chimney-sweep. 
 
 "You are a nice sort of fellow to dance !" she replied, and 
 turned her back upon him. 
 
 Then she seated herself upon the drawer, and thought 
 that one of the flowers would come and ask her; but not one 
 of them came. Then she coughed, "Hem ! hem ! hem !" but 
 for all that not one came. The chimney-sweep now danced 
 all alone, and that was not at all so bad. 
 
 As none of the flowers seemed to notice Sophy, she let 
 herself fall down from the drawer straight upon the floor, so 
 that there was a great noise. The flowers now all came run- 
 ning up, to ask if she had not hurt herself; and they were 
 all very polite to her, especially the flowers that had lain in 
 her bed. But she had not hurt herself at all; and Ida's flow- 
 ers all thanked her for the nice bed, and were kind to her, 
 took her into the middle of the room, where the moon shone 
 in, and danced with her; and all the other flowers formed a 
 circle round her. Now Sophy was glad, and said they 
 might keep her bed; she did not at all mind lying in the 
 drawer. 
 
22 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 But the flowers said, "We thank you heartily, but in any 
 way we cannot hve long. To-morrow we shall be quite 
 dead. But tell little Ida she is to bury us out in the garden, 
 where the canary lies ; then we shall wake up again in sum- 
 mer, and be far more beautiful." 
 
 *'No, you must not die," said Sophy; and she kissed the 
 flowers. 
 
 Then the door opened, and a great number of splendid 
 flowers came dancing in. Ida could not imagine whence 
 they had come ; these must certainly all be flowers from the 
 King's castle yonder. First of all came two glorious roses, 
 and they had little gold crowns on ; they were a King and a 
 Queen. Then came the prettiest stocks and carnations ; and 
 they bowed in all directions. They had music with them. 
 Great poppies and peonies blew upon pea-pods till they 
 were quite red in the face. The blue hyacinths and the little 
 white snowdrops rang just as if they had been bells. That 
 was wonderful music! Then came many other flowers, 
 and danced altogether; the blue violets and the pink prim- 
 roses, daisies and the lilies of the valley. And all the flow- 
 ers kissed one another. It was beautiful to look at! 
 
 At last the flowers wished one another good-night; then 
 little Ida, too, crept to bed, where she dreamed of all she had 
 seen. 
 
 When she rose next morning, she went quickly to the lit- 
 tle table, to see if the little flowers were still there. She 
 drew aside the curtains of the little bed; there were they 
 all, bvit they were quite faded, far more than yesterday. 
 Sophy was lying in the drawer where Ida had laid her; she 
 looked very sleepy. 
 
 ''Do you remember what you were to say to me?" asked 
 little Ida. 
 
 But Sophy stood quite stupid, and did not say a single 
 word. 
 
 "You are not good at all!" said Ida. "And yet they all 
 danced with you." 
 
 Then she took a little paper box, on which were painted 
 beautiful birds, and opened it, and laid the dead flowers 
 in it. 
 
 "That shall be your pretty cof¥in," said she, "and when my 
 cousins come to visit me by-and-by, they shall help me to 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 23 
 
 bury you outside in the garden, so that you may grow again 
 in summer, and become more beautiful than ever." 
 
 These cousins were two merry boys. Their names were 
 Gustave and Adolphe ; their father had given them two new 
 crossbows, and they had brought these with them to show 
 to Ida. She told them about the poor flowers that had died, 
 and then they got leave to bury them. The two boys were 
 first, with their crossbows on their shoulders, and little Ida 
 followed with the dead flowers in the pretty box. Out in 
 the garden a little grave was dug. Ida first kissed the 
 fiowers, and then laid them in the earth in the box, and 
 Adolphe and Gustave shot with their crossbows over the 
 grave, for they had neither guns nor cannons. 
 
 THE TINDER-BOX. 
 
 There came a soldier marching along the high road — 
 one, two ! one, two ! He had his knapsack on his back and 
 a saber by his side, for he had been in the wars, and now he 
 wanted to go home. And on the way he met with an old 
 witch; she was very hideous, and her under lip hung down 
 upon her breast. She said, "Good evening, soldier. What 
 a fine sword you have, and what a big knapsack! You're 
 a proper soldier. Now you shall have as much money as 
 you like to have." 
 
 "I thank you, you old witch !" said the soldier. 
 
 "Do you see that great tree?" quoth the witch; and she 
 pointed to a tree which stood beside them. "It's quite 
 hollow inside. You must climb to the top, and then you'll 
 see a hole, through which you can let yourself down and get 
 deep into the tree. I'll tie a rope round your body, so that 
 I can pull you up again when you call me." 
 
 "What am I to do down in the tree?" asked the soldier. 
 
 "Get money," replied the v/itch. "Listen to me. When 
 you come down to the earth under the tree, you will find 
 yourself in a great hall : it is quite light, for above three hun- 
 dred lamps are burning there. Then you will see three 
 doors; those you can open, for the keys are hanging there. 
 If you go into the first chamber, you'll see a great chest in 
 the middle of the floor; on this chest sits a dog, and he's got 
 
24 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 a pair of eyes as big as two tea-cups. But you need not 
 care for that. I'll give you my blue-checked apron, and 
 you can spread it out upon the floor ; then go up quickly and 
 take the dog, and set him on my apron ; then open the chest, 
 and take as many shillings as you like. They are of copper; 
 if you prefer silver, you must go into the second chamber. 
 But there sits a dog with a pair of eyes as big as mill-wheels. 
 But do not you care for that. Set him upon my apron, and 
 take some of the money. And if you want gold, you can 
 have that, too — in fact, as much as you can carry — if you 
 go into the third chamber. But the dog that sits on the 
 money-chest there has two eyes as big as round towers. He 
 is a fierce dog, you may be sure ; but you needn't be afraid, 
 for all that. Only set him on my apron, and he won't hurt 
 you ; and take out of the chest as much gold as you like." 
 
 "That's not so bad," said the soldier. "But what am I to 
 give you, old witch? for you will not do it for nothing, I 
 fancy." 
 
 "No," replied the witch, "not a single shilling will I have. 
 You shall only bring me an old tinder-box which my grand- 
 mother forgot when she was down there last." 
 
 "Then tie the rope round my body," cried the soldier. 
 
 "Here it is," said the witch, "and here's my blue-checked 
 apron." 
 
 Then the soldier climbed up into the tree, let himself slip 
 down into the hole, and stood, as the witch had said, in the 
 great hall where the three hundred lamps were burning. 
 
 Now he opened the first door. Ugh! there sat the dog 
 with eyes as big as tea-cups staring at him. "You're a nice 
 fellow!" exclaimed the soldier; and he sat him on the witch's 
 apron, and took as many copper shillings as his pockets 
 would hold, and then locked the chest, set the dog on it 
 again, and went into the second chamber. Aha! there sat 
 the dog with eyes as big as mill-wheels. 
 
 "You should not stare so hard at me," said the soldier; 
 "you might strain your eyes." And he set the dog upon the 
 witch's apron. And when he saw the silver money in the 
 chest, he threw away all the copper money he had, and filled 
 his pocket and his knapsack with silver only. Then he 
 went into the third chamber. Oh, but that was horrid! 
 The dog there really had eyes as big as towers, and they 
 turned round and round in his head like wheels. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES, 25 
 
 "Good evening!" said the soldier; and he touched his cap, 
 for he had never seen such a dog as that before. When he 
 had looked at him a little more closely, he thought, "that 
 will do,'' and lifted him down to the floor, and opened the 
 chest. Mercy! what a quantity of gold was there! He could 
 buy with it the whole town, and the sugar sucking-pigs of 
 the cake woman, and all the tin soldiers, whips, and rock- 
 ing-horses in the whole world. Yes, that was a quantity of 
 money ! Now the soldier threw away all the silver coin with 
 which he had filled his pockets and his knapsack, and took 
 gold instead; yes, all his pockets, his knapsack, his boots, 
 and his cap were filled, so that he could scarcely walk. 
 Now indeed he had plenty of money. He put the dog on 
 the chest, shut the door, and then called up through the 
 tree, "now pull me up, you old vv^itch." 
 
 "Have you the tinder-box?" asked the witch. 
 
 "Plague on it!" exclaimed the soldier, "I had clean for- 
 gotten that." And he went and brought it. 
 
 The witch drew him up, and he stood on the high road 
 again, with pockets, boots, knapsack, and cap full of gold. 
 
 "What are you going to do with the tinder-box?" asked 
 the soldier. 
 
 "That's nothing to you," retorted the witch. "You've 
 had your money — just give me the tinder-box." 
 
 "Nonsense!" said the soldier. "Tell me directly what 
 you're going to do with it, or I'll draw my sword and cut off 
 your head." 
 
 "No !" cried the witch. 
 
 So the soldier cut off her head. There she lay. But he 
 tied up all his money in her apron, took it on his back like a 
 bundle, put the tinder-box in his pocket, and went straight 
 off toward the town. 
 
 That was a splendid tovv^n! And he put up at the very 
 best inn and asked for the finest rooms, and ordered his 
 favorite dishes, for now he was rich, as he had so much 
 money. The servant who had to clean his boots certainly 
 thought them a remarkably old pair for such a rich gentle- 
 man ; but he had not bought any new ones yet. The next 
 day he procured proper boots and handsome clothes. Now 
 our soldier had become a fine gentleman; and the people* 
 told him of all the splendid things which were in their city, 
 
25 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 and about the King, and what a pretty princess the King's 
 daughter was. 
 
 "Where can one get to see her?" asked the soldier. 
 
 "She is not to be seen at all," said they, all together; "she 
 lives in a great copper castle, with a great many walls and 
 towers round about it; no one but the King may go in and 
 out there, for it has been prophesied that she shall marry a 
 common soldier, and the King can't bear that." 
 
 "I should like to see her," thought the soldier; but he 
 could not get leave to do so. Now he lived merrily, went 
 to the theater, drove in the King's garden, and gave much 
 money to the poor; and this was very kind of him, for he 
 knew from old times how hard it is when one has not a shil- 
 ling. Now he was rich, had fine clothes, and gained many 
 friends, who all said he was a rare one, a true cavalier; and 
 that pleased the soldier well. But as he spent money every 
 day and never earned any, he had at last only two shillings 
 left; and he was obliged to turn out of the fine rooms in 
 which he had dwelt, and had to live in a little garret under 
 the roof, and clean his boots for himself, and m.end them 
 with a darning-needle. None of his friends came to see 
 him, for there were too many stairs to clirnb. 
 
 It was quite dark one evening, and he could not even buy 
 himself a candle, when it occurred to him that there was a 
 candle-end in the tinder-box which he had taken out of the 
 hollow tree into which the witch had helped him. He 
 brought out the tinder-box and the candle-end ; but as soon 
 as he struck fire and the sparks rose up from the flint, the 
 door flew open, and the dog who had eyes as big as a couple 
 of tea-cups and whom he had seen in the tree, stood before 
 him, and said: 
 
 "What are my lord's commands?" 
 
 "What is this?" said the soldier. "That's a famous tinder- 
 box, if I can get everything with it that I want ! Bring me 
 some money," said he to the dog: and whisk! the dog was 
 gone, and whisk! he was back again, with a great bag full 
 of shillings in his mouth. 
 
 Now the soldier knew what a capital tinder-box this was. 
 If he struck it once, the dog came who sat upon the chest of 
 copper money: if he struck it twice, the dog came who had 
 the silver; and if he struck it three times, then appeared the 
 dog who had the gold. Now the soldier moved back into 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 27 
 
 the fine rooms, and appeared again in handsome clothes; 
 and all his friends knew him again, and cared very much for 
 him indeed. 
 
 Once he thought to himself, "It is a very strange thing 
 that one cannot get to see the Princess. They all say she is 
 very beautiful; but what is the use of that, if she has always 
 to sit in the great copper castle with the many towers? Can 
 I not get to see her at all? Where is my tinder-box?" And 
 so he struck a light, and whisk ! came the dog with eyes as 
 big as tea-cups. 
 
 "It is midnight, certainly," said the soldier, "but I should 
 very much like to see the Princess, only for one little mo- 
 ment." 
 
 And the dog was outside the door directly, and, before 
 the soldier thought it, came back with the Princess. She 
 sat upon the dog's back and slept; and everyone could see 
 she was a real Princess, for she was so lovely. The soldier 
 could not refrain from kissing her, for he was a thorough 
 soldier. Then the dog ran back again with the Princess. 
 But when morning came, and the King and Queen were 
 drinking tea, the Princess said she had had a strange dream, 
 the night before, about a dog and a soldier — that she had 
 ridden upon the dog, and the soldier had kissed her. 
 
 "That would be a fine history!" said the Queen. 
 
 So one of the old Court ladies had to watch the next 
 night by the Princess' bed, to see if this was really a dream, 
 or what it might be. 
 
 The soldier had a great longing to see the lovely Princess 
 again; so the dog came in the night, took her away, and 
 ran as fast as he could. But the old lady put on water-boots, 
 and ran just as fast after him. When she saw that they 
 both entered a great house, she thought "Now I know 
 where it is ;" and with a bit of chalk she drew a great cross 
 on the door. Then she went home and lay down, and the 
 dog came up with the Princess ; but when he saw that there 
 was a cross drawn on the door where the soldier lived, he 
 took a piece of chalk too, and drew crosses on all the doors 
 in the town. And that was cleverly done, for now the lady 
 could not find the right door, because all the doors had 
 crosses upon them. 
 
 In the morning early came the King and the Queen, the 
 old Court lady and all the officers, to see where it was the 
 
28 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 Princess had been. "Here it is!" said the King, when he 
 saw the first door with a cross upon it. "Nq, my dear hus- 
 band, it is there!" said the Queen, who descried another 
 door which also showed a cross. "But there is one, and 
 tliere is one!" said all, for wherever they looked there were 
 crosses on the doors. So they saw that it would avail them 
 nothing if they searched on. 
 
 But the Queen was an exceedingly clever woman, who 
 could do more than ride in a coach. She took her great 
 gold scissors, cut a piece of silk into pieces, and made a 
 neat little bag; this bag she filled with fine wheat flour, and 
 tied it on the Princess' back; and v\?hen that was done, she 
 cut a little hole in the bag, so that the flour would be scat- 
 tered along all the way which the Princess should take. 
 
 In the night the dog came again, took the Princess on 
 his back, and ran with her to the soldier, v/ho loved her very 
 much, and would gladly have been a prince, so that he 
 might have her for his wife. The dog did not notice at all 
 how the flour ran out in a stream from the castle to the win- 
 dows of the soldier's house, where he ran up the wall with 
 the Princess. In the morning the King and Queen saw 
 well enough where their daughter had been, and the}^ took 
 the soldier and put him in prison. 
 
 There he sat. Oh, but it was dark and disagreeable 
 there! And they said to him, "To-morrow you shall be 
 hanged." That was not amusing to hear, and he had left 
 his tinder-box at the inn. In the morning he could see, 
 through the iron grating of the little window, how the peo- 
 ple were hurrying out of the town to see him hanged. He 
 heard the drums beat and saw the soldiers marching. All 
 the people were running out, and among them was a shoe- 
 maker's boy with leather apron and slippers, and he gal- 
 loped so fast that one of his slippers flew off, and came 
 right against the wall where the soldier sat looking through 
 the iron grating. 
 
 "Halloo, you shoemaker's boy! you needn't be in such a 
 hurry," cried the soldier to him; "it will not begin till I 
 come. But if you will run to where I lived, and bring me 
 my tinder-box, you shall have four shillings; but you must 
 put your best leg foremost." 
 
 The shoemaker's boy wanted to get the four shillings, so 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 29 
 
 he went and brought the tinder-box, and — well, we shall 
 hear now what happened. 
 
 Outside the town a great gallows had been built, and 
 around it stood the soldiers and many hundred thousand 
 people. The King and Queen sat on a splendid throne, op- 
 posite to the Judges and the whole Council. The soldier 
 already stood upon the ladder; but as they were about to 
 put the rope round his neck, he said that before a poor 
 criminal suffered his punishment an innocent request was 
 always granted to him. He wanted very much to smoke a 
 pipe of tobacco, as it would be the last pipe he should smoke 
 in the world. The King would not say ''No'' to this; so the 
 soldier took his tinder-box and struck fire. One — two — 
 three! — and there suddenly stood all the dogs — the one with 
 eyes as big as tea-cups, the one with eyes as large as mill- 
 wheels, and the one whose eyes were as big as round towers. 
 
 "Help me now, so that I may not be hanged," said the 
 soldier. And the dogs fell upon the Judge and all the 
 Council, seized one by the leg and another by the nose, and 
 tossed them all many feet into the air, so that they fell down 
 and were all broken to pieces. 
 
 "I won't!" cried the King; but the biggest dog took him 
 and the Queen and threw them after the others. Then the 
 soldiers were afraid, and the people cried, "Little soldier, 
 you shall be our King, and marry the beautiful Princess!" 
 
 So they put the soldier into the King's coach, and all the 
 three dogs darted on in front and cried "Hurrah!" and the 
 boys whistled through their fingers, and the soldiers pre- 
 sented arms. The Princess came out of the copper castle, 
 and became Queen, and she liked that well enough. The 
 wedding lasted a week, and the three dogs sat at the table, 
 too, and opened their eyes wider than ever at all they saw. 
 
 GREAT CLAUS AND LITTLE CLAUS. 
 
 There lived two men in one village, and they had the same 
 name — each was called Claus; but one had four horses and 
 the other only a single horse. To distinguish them from 
 each other, folks called him who had four horses Great 
 Claus, and the one who had only a single horse Little Claus. 
 
80 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 Now we shall hear what happened to each of them, for this 
 is a true story. ' 
 
 The whole week through little Claus was obliged to plow 
 for Great Claus, and to lend him his one horse; then Great 
 Claus helped him out with all his four, but only once a 
 week, and that on a holiday. Hurrah! how Little Claus 
 smacked his whip over all five horses, for they vv^ere as 
 good as his own on that one day. The sun shone gayly, 
 and all the bells in the steeples were ringing; the people 
 were all dressed in their best, and were going to church, 
 with their hymn-books under their arms, to hear the clergy- 
 man preach, and they saw Little Claus plowing with five 
 horses; but he was so merry that he smacked his whip 
 again and again, and cried, "Gee up, all my five!" 
 
 "You must not talk so," said Great Claus, "for only the 
 one horse is yours." 
 
 But when no one was passing Little Claus forgot that he 
 was not to say this, and he cried, "Gee up, all my horses!" 
 
 "Now, I must beg of you to let that alone," cried Great 
 Claus, "for if you say it again, I shall hit your horse on the 
 head so that it will fall down dead, and then it will be all 
 over with him." 
 
 "I will certainly not say it any more," said Little Claus. 
 
 But when people came by soon afterward and nodded 
 "good day" to him, he became very glad, and thought it 
 looked very well after all that he had five horses to plow his 
 field; and so he smacked his whip again, and cried, "Gee 
 up, all my horses!" 
 
 "I'll 'gee up' your horses!"' said Great Claus. And he 
 took the hatchet and hit the only horse of Little Claus on 
 the head, so that it fell down and was dead immediately. 
 
 "Oh, now I haven't any horse at all!" said Little Claus, 
 and began to cry. 
 
 Then he flayed the horse, and let the hide dry in the wind, 
 and put it in a sack and hung it over his shoulder, and went 
 to the town to sell his horse's skin. fB. 
 
 He had a very long way to go, and was obliged to pass 
 through a great dark wood, and the weather became dread- 
 fully bad. He went quite astray, and before he got into the 
 right way again it was evening, and it was too far to get 
 home again or even to the town before nightfall. 
 
 Close by the road stood a large farm-house. The shut- 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 31 
 
 ters were closed outside the windows, but the hght could 
 still be seen shining out over them. 
 
 "I may be able to get leave to stop here through the 
 night," thought Little Claus; and he went and knocked. 
 
 The farmer's wife opened the door; but when she heard 
 what -he wanted she told him to go away, declaring that her 
 husband was not at home, and she would not receive 
 strangers. 
 
 "Then I shall have to lie outside," said Little Claus. And 
 the farmer's wife shut the door in his face. 
 
 Close by stood a great haystack, and between this and the 
 farm-house was a little outhouse thatched with straw, 
 
 "Up there I can lie," said Little Claus, when he looked up 
 at the roof; "that is a capital bed. I suppose the stork won't 
 fl[y down and bite me in the legs." For a living stork was 
 standing on the roof, where he had his nest. 
 
 Now Little Claus climbed up to the roof of the shed, 
 where he lay, and turned round to settle himself comforta- 
 bly. The wooden shutters did not cover the windows at 
 the top, and he could look straight into the room. There 
 was a great table, with the cloth laid, and wine and roast 
 meat and a glorious fish upon it. The farmer's wife and 
 the clerk were seated at table, and nobody besides. She was 
 filling his glass, and he was digging his fork into the fish, 
 for that was his favorite dish. 
 
 "If one could only get some, too!" thought Little Claus, 
 as he stretched out his head toward the window. Heavens! 
 what a glorious cake he saw standing there ! Yes, certainly, 
 that was a feast. 
 
 Now he heard someone riding along the high road. It 
 was the woman's husband, who was coming home. He was 
 a good man enough, but he had the strange peculiarity that 
 he could never bear to see a clerk. If a clerk appeared be- 
 fore his eyes he became quite wild. And that was the rea- 
 son why the clerk had gone to the wife to wish her good- 
 day, because he knew that her husband was not at home; 
 and the good woman therefore put the best fare she had be- 
 fore him. But when they heard the man coming they were 
 frightened, and the woman begged the clerk to creep into 
 a great empty chest which stood there; and he did so, for 
 he knew the husband could not bear the sight of a clerk. 
 The woman quickly hid all the excellent meat and wine in 
 
32 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 her baking-oven; for if the man had seen that, he would 
 have been certain to ask what it meant. 
 
 "Ah, yes!" sighed Little Claus, up in his shed, when he 
 saw all the good fare put away. 
 
 "Is there anyone up there?" asked the farmer; and he 
 looked up at Little Claus. "Who are you lying there? 
 Better come with me into the room." 
 
 And Little Claus told him how he had lost his way, and 
 asked leave to stay there for the night. 
 
 "Yes, certainly," said the peasant; "but first we must 
 have something to live on.'' 
 
 The woman received them both in a very friendly way, 
 spread the cloth on a long table, and gave them a great 
 dish of porridge. The farmer was hungry, and ate with a 
 good appetite; but Little Claus could not help thinking of 
 the capital roast meat, fish, and cake, which he knew were 
 in the oven. Under the table, at his feet, he had laid the 
 sack with the horse's hide in it; for we know that he had 
 come out to sell it in the town. He did not relish the por- 
 ridge, so he trod upon the sack, and the dry skin crackled 
 quite loudly. 
 
 "Why, what have you in your sack?" asked the farmer. 
 
 "Oh, that's a magician," answered Little Claus. "He 
 says we are not to eat porridge, for he has conjured the 
 oven full of roast meat, fish, and cake." 
 
 "Wonderful!" cried the farmer; and he opened the oven 
 in a hurry, and found all the dainty provisions which his 
 wife had hidden there, but which, as he thought, the wizard 
 had conjured forth. The woman dared not say anything, 
 but put the things at once on the table ; and so they both ate 
 of the meat, the fish, and the cake. Now Little Clau.s again 
 trod on his sack, and made the hide creak. 
 
 "What does he say now?" said the farmer. 
 
 "He says," replied Claus, "that he has conjured three bot- 
 tles of wine for us, too, and that they are standing there in 
 the corner behind the oven." 
 
 Now the woman was obliged to bring out the wine which 
 she had hidden, and the farmer drank it and became very 
 merry. He would have been very glad to see such a con- 
 juror as Little Claus had there in the sack. 
 
 "Can he conjure the demon forth?" asked the farmer. 
 "I should like to see him, for now I am merry." 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 33 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Little Claus; "my conjuror can do any- 
 thing that I ask of him — Can you not?" he added, and trod 
 on the hide, so that it crackled. ''He says 'Yes.' But the 
 demon is very ugly to look at; we had better not see him." 
 
 "Oh, I'm not at all afraid. Pray, what will he look like?" 
 
 "Why, he'll look the very image of a clerk." 
 
 "Ha!" said the farmer, "that is ugly! You must know, 
 I can't bear the sight of a clerk. But it doesn't matter now, 
 for I know that he's a demon, so I shall easily stand it. 
 Now I have courage, but he must not come too near me." 
 
 "Now I will ask my conjuror," said Little Claus; and 
 he trod on the sack and held his ear down. 
 
 "What does he say?" 
 
 "He says you may go and open the chest that stands in 
 the corner, and you will see the demon crouching in it; but 
 you must hold the lid so that he doesn't slip out." 
 
 "Will you help me to hold him?" asked the farmer. And 
 he went to the chest where the wife had hidden the real 
 clerk, who sat in there and vs^as very much afraid. The 
 farmer opened the lid a little way and peeped in under- 
 neath it. 
 
 "Hu!" he cried, and sprang backward. "Yes, now I've 
 seen him, and he looked exactly like our clerk. Oh, that 
 was dreadful!"' 
 
 Upon this they must drink. So they sat and drank until 
 late into the night. 
 
 "You must sell me that conjuror," said the farmer. "Ask 
 as much as you like for him; I'll give you a whole bushel 
 of money directly." 
 
 "No, that I can't do," said Little Claus ; "only think how 
 much use I can make of this conjuror." 
 
 "Oh, I should so much like to have him!" cried the 
 farmer; and he went on begging. 
 
 "Well," said Little Claus, at last, "as you have been so 
 kind as to give me shelter for the night, I will let it be so. 
 You shall have the conjuror for a bushel of money; but I 
 must have the bushel heaped up." 
 
 "That you shall have," replied the farmer. "But you 
 must take the chest yonder away with you. I will not keep 
 it in my house an hour. One cannot know — perhaps he 
 may be there still." 
 
 Little Claus gave the farmer his sack with the dry hide in 
 
 3 
 
34 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 it, and got in exchange a whole bushel of money, and that 
 heaped up. The farmer also gave him a big truck, on which 
 to carry oflf his money and chest. 
 
 "Farewell!" said Little Claus; and he went off with his 
 money and the big chest, in which the clerk was still sit- 
 ting. 
 
 On the other side of the wood was a great deep river. 
 The water rushed along so rapidly that one could scarcely 
 swim against the stream. A fine new bridge had been built 
 over it. Little Claus stopped on the center of the bridge, 
 and said quite loud, so that the clerk could hear it. 
 
 "Ho, what shall I do with this stupid chest? It's as 
 heavy as if stones were in it. I shall only get tired if I drag 
 it any farther, so I'll throw it into the river; if it swims 
 home to me, well and good ; and if it does not, it will be no 
 great matter." 
 
 And he took the chest with one hand, and lifted it up a 
 little, as if he intended to throw it into the river. 
 
 "No! let be!" cried the clerk from within the chest; "let 
 me out first!" 
 
 "Hu!" exclaimed Little Claus, pretending to be fright- 
 ened, "he's in there still! I must make haste and throw him 
 into the river, that he may be drowned." 
 
 "Oh, no, no!" screamed the clerk. "I'll give you a whole 
 bushelful of money if you'll let me go." 
 
 "Why, that's another thing!" said Little Claus; and he 
 opened the chest. 
 
 The clerk crept quickly out and pushed the empty chest 
 into the water, and went to his house, where Little Claus 
 received a whole bushelful of money. He had already re- 
 ceived one from the farmer, and so now he had his truck 
 loaded with money. 
 
 "See, I've been well paid for the horse," he said to him- 
 self when he had got home to his own room, and was emp- 
 tying all the money into a heap in the middle of the floor. 
 "That will vex Great Claus when he hears how rich I have 
 grown through my one horse ; but I won't tell him about it 
 outright." 
 
 So he sent a boy to Great Claus to ask for a bushel meas- 
 ure. 
 
 "What can he want with it?" thought Great Claus. And 
 he smeared some tar underneath the measure so that some 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 35 
 
 part of whatever was measured should stick to it. And 
 thus it happened; for when he received the measure back, 
 there were three new eight-shilhng pieces adhering thereto. 
 
 "What's this?" cried Great Claus; and he ran off at once 
 to Little Claus. "Where did you get all that money from?" 
 
 "Oh, that's for my horse's skin. I sold it yesterday even- 
 ing." 
 
 "That's really being well paid," said Great Claus. And he 
 ran home in a hurry, took an ax, and killed all his four 
 horses; then he flayed them, and carried off their skins to 
 the town. 
 
 "Hides! hides! who'll buy any hides?" he cried through 
 the streets. 
 
 All the shoemakers and tanners came running, and asked 
 how much he wanted for them. 
 
 "A bushel of money for each!" said Great Claus. 
 
 "Are you mad?" said they. "Do you think we have 
 money by the bushel?" 
 
 "Hides! hides!" he cried again; and to all who asked 
 him what the hides would cost, he replied, "A bushel of 
 money." 
 
 "He wants to make fools of us," they all exclaimed. And 
 the shoemakers took their straps, and the tanners their 
 aprons, and they began to beat Great Claus. 
 
 "Hides! hides!" they called after him, jeeringly. "Yes, 
 we'll tan your hide for you till the red broth runs down. 
 Out of the town with him !" And Great Claus made the best 
 haste he could, for he had never yet been thrashed as he was 
 thrashed now. 
 
 "Well," said he, when he got home, "Little Claus shall 
 pay for this. I'll kill him for it." 
 
 Now, at Little Claus' the old grandmother had died. She 
 had been very harsh and unkind to him, but yet he was very 
 sorry, and took the dead woman and laid her in his warm 
 bed, to see if she would not come to life again. There he 
 intended she should remain all through the night, and he 
 himself would sit in the corner and sleep on a chair, as he 
 had often done before. As he sat there, in the night the 
 door opened, and Great Claus came in with his ax. He 
 knew where Little Claus' bed stood; and, going straight up 
 to it, he hit the old grandmother on the head, thinking she 
 was Little Claus. 
 
36 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "D'ye see," said he, "3^ou shall not make a fool of me 
 again." And then he went home. 
 
 "That's a bad fellow, that man," said Little Claus. "He 
 wanted to kill me. It was a good thing for my old grand- 
 mother that she was dead already. He would have taken 
 her hfe." 
 
 And he dressed his grandmother in her Sunday clothes, 
 borrowed a horse from his neighbor, harnessed it to a car, 
 and put the old lady on the back seat, so that she could not 
 fall out when he drove. And so they trundled through the 
 wood. When the sun rose they were in front of an inn; 
 there Little Claus pulled up, and went in to have some re- 
 freshment. 
 
 The host had very, very much mioney ; he was also a very 
 good man, but exceedingly hot, as if he had pepper and to- 
 bacco in him. 
 
 "Good morning,'" said he to Little Claus. "You've put on 
 your Sunday clothes early to-day." 
 
 "Yes," answered Little Claus; "I'm going to town with 
 my old grandmother; she's sitting there on the car without. 
 I can't bring her into the room. Will you give her a glass 
 of mead? But you must speak very loud, for she can't hear 
 well." 
 
 "Yes, that I'll do," said the host. And he poured out a 
 great glass of mead, and went out with it to the dead grand- 
 mother, who had been placed upright in the carriage. 
 
 "Here's a glass of mead from your son,'' quoth mine host. 
 But the dead v»?oman replied not a word, but sat quite still. 
 "Don't you hear?" cried the host, as loud as he could, 
 "here is a glass of mead from your son!'' 
 
 Once more he called out the same thing, but as she per- 
 sisted in not hearing him, he became angry at last, and 
 threw the glass in her face, so that the mead ran down over 
 her nose, and she tumbled backward into the car, for she 
 had only been put upright, and not bound fast. 
 
 "Hallo!" cried Little Claus, running out at the door, 
 and seizing the host by the breast; "you've killed my grand- 
 mother now! See, there's a big hole in her forehead." 
 
 "Oh, here's a misfortune!'' cried the host, wringing his 
 hands. "That all comes of my hot temper. Dear Little 
 Claus, I'll give you a bushel of money, and have your 
 grandmother buried as if she were my own; only keep 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 37 
 
 quiet, or I shall have my head cut off, and that would be so 
 very disagreeable!" 
 
 So Little Claus again received a whole bushel of money, 
 and the host buried the old grandmother as if she had been 
 his own. And when Little Claus came home with all his 
 money, he at once sent his boy to Great Claus to ask to bor- 
 row a bushel measure. 
 
 "What's that?" said Great Claus. . "Have I not killed 
 him? I must go myself and see to this." And so he went 
 over himself with the bushel to Little Claus. 
 
 "Now, where did you get all that money from?" he 
 asked; and he opened his eyes wide when he saw all that 
 had been brought together. 
 
 "You killed my grandmother, and not me," replied Little 
 Claus; "and I've been and sold her, and got a whole bushel 
 of money for her.'' 
 
 "That's really being v\^ell paid," said Great Claus; and 
 he hastened home, took an ax, and killed his own grand- 
 mother directly. Then he put her on a carriage, and drove 
 off to the town with her, to where the apothecary lived, and 
 asked him if he would buy a dead person. 
 
 "Who is it, and where did you get him from?" asked the 
 apothecary. 
 
 "It's my grandmother," answered Great Claus. "I've 
 killed her to get a bushel of money for her." 
 
 "Heaven save us!" cried the apothecary, "you're rav- 
 ing! Don't say such things, or you may lose your head.'' 
 And he told him earnestly what a bad deed this was that he 
 had done, and what a bad man he was, and that he must be 
 punished. And Great Claus was so frightened that he 
 jumped out of the surgery straight into his carriage, and 
 whipped the horses, and drove home. But the apothecary 
 and all the people thought him mad, and so they let him 
 drive whither he would. 
 
 "You shall pay for this!" cried Great Claus, when he 
 was out upon the high road; "yes, yes, you shall pay me 
 for this. Little Claus!" And directly he got home he took 
 the biggest sack he could find, and went over to Little 
 Claus, and said, "Now, you've tricked me again! First I 
 killed my horses, and then my old grandmother! That's all 
 your fault, but you shall never trick me any more." And 
 he seized Little Claus round the body, and thrust him into 
 
38 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 the sack, and took him upon his back, and called out to him, 
 "Now I shall go off with you and drown you." 
 
 It was a long way that he had to travel before he came 
 to the river, and Little Claus was not too light to carry. 
 The road led him close to a church; the organ was play- 
 ing, and the people were singing so beautifully! Then 
 Great Claus put down his sack, with Little Claus in it, close 
 to the church door, and thought it would be a very good 
 thing to go in and hear a psalm before he went farther; for 
 Little Claus could not get out, and all the people were in 
 church ; and so he went in. 
 
 "Ah, yes, yes!" sighed Little Claus in the sack. And 
 he turned and twisted, but he found it impossible to loosen 
 the cord. Then there came by an old drover v/ith snow- 
 white hair, and a great staff in his hand; he was driving a 
 whole herd of cows and oxen before him, and they stumbled 
 against the sack in which Little Claus was confined, so that 
 it was overthrown. 
 
 ''Oh, dear!" sighed Little Claus, "I am so young yet, and 
 am to go to heaven directly !" 
 
 "And I, poor fellow," said the drover, "am so old already, 
 and can't get there yet!" 
 
 "Open the sack," cried Little Claus; "creep into it in- 
 stead of me, and you will get to heaven directly." 
 
 "With all my heart," replied the drover; and he untied 
 the sack, out of which Little Claus crept forth immediately. 
 
 "But will you look after the cattle?" said the old man; 
 and he crept into the sack at once, whereupon Little Claus 
 tied it up, and went his way with all the cows and oxen. 
 
 Soon afterward Great Claus came out of the church. He 
 took the sack on his shoulders again, although it seemed 
 to him as if the sack had become lighter; for the old drover 
 was only half as heavy as Little Claus. 
 
 "How light he is to carry now! Yes, that is because I 
 have heard a psalm." 
 
 So he went to the river, which was deep and broad, threw 
 the sack with the old drover in it into the water, and called 
 after him, thinking that it was Little Claus, "You lie there! 
 Now you shan't trick me any more!" 
 
 Then he went home; but when he came to a place where 
 there was a cross road, he met Little Claus driving all his 
 beasts. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 39 
 
 "What's this?" cried Great Claus. "Have I not drowned 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes,'' repHed Little Claus, "you threw me into the river 
 less than half an hour ago." 
 
 "But wherever did you get all those fine beasts from?" 
 asked Great Claus. 
 
 "These beasts are sea-cattle," replied Little Claus. "I'll 
 tell you the whole story — and thank you for drowning me, 
 for now I'm at the top of the tree. I am really rich ! How 
 frightened I was when I lay huddled in the sack, and the 
 wind whistled about my ears when you threw me down from 
 the bridge into the cold water! I sank to the bottom imme- 
 diately; but I did not knock myself, for the most splendid 
 soft grass grows down there. Upon that I fell; and imme- 
 diately the sack was opened, and the loveliest maiden, with 
 snow-white garments and a green wreath upon her wet 
 hair, took me by the hand, and said, 'Are you come, Little 
 Claus? Here you have some cattle to begin with. A mile 
 farther along the road there is a whole herd more, which I 
 will give to you.' And now I saw that the river formed a 
 great highway for the people of the sea. Down in its bed 
 they walked and drove directly from the sea, and straight 
 into the land, to where the river ends. There it was so beau- 
 tifully full of flowers and of the freshest grass; the fishes, 
 which swam in the water, shot past my ears, just as here 
 the birds in the air. What pretty people there were there, 
 and what fine cattle pasturing on mounds and in ditches!" 
 
 "But why did you come up again to us directly?" asked 
 Great Claus. "I should not have done that, if it is so beauti- 
 ful down there.'' 
 
 "Why," replied Little Claus, "in that I just acted with 
 good policy. You heard me tell you that the sea-maiden 
 said, 'a mile farther along the road — ' and by the road she 
 meant the river, for she can't go anywhere else — 'there is a 
 whole herd of cattle for you.' But I know what bends the 
 stream makes — sometimes this, sometimes that; there's a 
 long way to go round; no, the thing can be managed in a 
 shorter Avay by coming here to the land, and driving across 
 the fields toward the river again. In this manner I save 
 myself almost half a mile, and get all the quicker to my sea- 
 cattle 1" 
 
 "Oh, you are a fortunate man!" said Great Claus. "Do 
 
40 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 you think I should get some sea-cattle too if I went down to 
 the bottom of the river?" 
 
 "Yes, I think so," feplied Little Claus. "But I cannot 
 carry you in the sack as far as the river; you are too heavy 
 for me! But if you will go there, and creep into the sack 
 yourself, I will throw you in with a great deal of pleasure." 
 
 "Thanks!" said Great Claus; "but if I don't get any sea- 
 cattle when I am down there, I shall beat you, you may be 
 sure." 
 
 "Oh, no; don't be so fierce!" 
 
 And so they went together to the river. When the 
 beasts, which were thirsty, saw the stream, they ran as fast 
 as they could to get at the water. 
 
 "See how they hurry!" cried Little Claus. "They are 
 longing to get back to the bottom." 
 
 "Yes, but help me first!" said Great Claus, "or else you 
 shall be beaten." 
 
 And so he crept into the great sack, which had been laid 
 across the back of one of the oxen. 
 
 "Put a stone in, for I'm afraid I shan't sink else," said 
 Great Claus. 
 
 "That can be done," replied Little Claus; and he put a 
 big stone into the sack, tied the rope tightly, and pushed 
 against it. Plump! Down went Great Claus into the river, 
 and sank at once to the bottom. 
 
 "I'm afraid he won't find the cattle!" said Little Claus; 
 and then he drove homeward with what he had. 
 
 THUMBELINA. 
 
 There was once a v/oman who wished for a very little 
 child; but she did not know where she could procure one. 
 So she went to an old witch and said : 
 
 "I do so very much wish for a little child! can you not tell 
 me where I can get one?" 
 
 "Oh! that could easily be managed," said the witch. 
 "There you have a barleycorn; that is not the kind which 
 grows in the countryman's field, and which the chickens 
 get to eat. Put that into a flower-pot, and you shall see 
 what you shall see " 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 41 
 
 "Thank you," said the woman; and she gave the witch 
 twelve shilHngs, for that is what it cost. 
 
 Then she went home and planted the barleycorn, and im- 
 mediately there grew up a great handsome flower, which 
 looked like a tulip; but the leaves were tightly closed, as 
 though it were still a bud. 
 
 "That is a beautiful flower," said the woman; and she 
 kissed its yellow and red leaves. But just as she kissed it 
 the flower opened with a pop! It was a real tulip, as one 
 could now see; but in the middle of the flower there sat 
 upon the green velvet stamens a httle maiden, dehcate and 
 graceful to behold. She was scarcely half a thumb's length 
 in height, and, therefore, she was called Thurnbelina. 
 
 A neat polished walnut-shell served Thumbelina for a 
 cradle, blue violet-leaves were her mattresses, with a rose- 
 leaf for a coverlet. Tliere she slept at night; but in the 
 day-time she played upon the table, where the woman had 
 put a plate with a wreath of flowers around it, whose stalks 
 stood in water; on the water swam a great tulip-leaf, and on 
 this the little maiden could sit, and row from one side of 
 the plate to the other, with two white horse-hairs for oars. 
 That looked pretty indeed! She could also sing, and, indeed, 
 so delicately and sweetly, that the like had never been heard. 
 
 Once as she lay at night in her pretty bed, there camic an 
 old Toad creeping through the window, in which one pane 
 was broken. The Toad was very ugly, big and damp; it 
 hopped straight down upon the table, where Thumbelina 
 lay sleeping under the rose-leaf. 
 
 "That would be a handsome wife for my son," said the 
 Toad; and she took the walnut-shell in which Thumbelina 
 lay asleep, and hopped with it through the window down 
 into the garden. 
 
 There ran a great broad brook; but the margin was 
 swampy and soft, and here the Toad dwelt with her son. 
 Ugh! he was ugly, and looked just like his mother. 
 "Croak! croak; brek-kek-kex!" that was all he could say 
 when he saw the graceful little maiden in the walnut-shell. 
 
 "Don't speak so loud, or she will awake," said the old 
 Toad. "She might run away from us, for she is as light as 
 a bit of swan's-down. We will put her out in the brook 
 upon one of the broad water-lily leaves. That vvill be just 
 like an island for her, she is so small and light. Then she 
 
42 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 can't get away, while we put the stateroom under the marsh 
 in order, where you are to Hve and keep house together." 
 
 Out in the brook grew many water-HHes with broad green 
 leaves, which looked as if they were floating on the water. 
 The leaf which lay farthest out was also the greatest of all, 
 and to that the old Toad swam out and laid the walnut-shell 
 upon it with Thumbelina. The little tiny Thumbelina woke 
 early in the morning, and when she saw where she was she 
 began to cry very bitterly; for there was water on every side 
 of the great green leaf, and she could not get to land at all. 
 The old Toad sat down in the marsh, decking out her room 
 with rushes and yellow weed — it was to be made very pretty 
 for the new daughter-in-law; then she swam out, with her 
 ugly son, to the leaf on which Thumbelina was. They 
 wanted to take her pretty bed, which was to be put in the 
 bridal chamber before she went in there herself. The old 
 Toad bowed low before her in the water, and said : 
 
 "Here is my son; he will be your husband, and you will 
 live splendidly together in the marsh." 
 
 "Croak! croak! brek-kek-kex!'' was all the son could 
 say. 
 
 Then they took the delicate little bed, and swam away 
 with it; but Thumbelina sat all alone upon the green leaf 
 and wept, for she did not like to live at the nasty Toad's, 
 and have her ugly son for a husband. The little fishes 
 swimming in the water below had both seen the Toad, and 
 had also heard what she said; therefore they stretched forth 
 their heads, for they wanted to see the little girl. So soon as 
 they saw her they considered her so pretty that they felt 
 very sorry she should have to go down to the ugly Toad. 
 No, that must never be! They assembled together in the 
 water around the green stalk which held the leaf on which 
 the little m^aiden stood, and with their teeth they gnawed 
 away the stalk, and so the leaf swam down the stream; and 
 away went Thumbelina far away, where the Toad could not 
 get at her. 
 
 Thumbelina sailed by many cities, and the little birds 
 which sat in the bushes saw her, and said, "What a lovely 
 little girl!" The leaf swam away from them, farther and 
 farther; so Thumbelina traveled out of the country. 
 
 A graceful little white Butterfly always fluttered round 
 her, and at last alighted on the leaf. Thumbelina pleased 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 43 
 
 him, and she was very glad of this, for now the Toad could 
 not reach them; and it was so beautiful where she was 
 floating along — the sun shone upon the water, and the 
 water glistened like the most splendid gold. She took her 
 girdle and bound one end of it round the Butterfly, fastening 
 the other end of the ribbon to the leaf. The leaf now glided 
 onward much faster and Thumbelina, too, for she stood 
 upon the leaf. 
 
 There came a big Cockchafer flying up ; and he saw her, 
 and immediately clasped his claws round her slender waist, 
 and flew with her up into a tree. The green leaf went swim- 
 ming down the brook, and the Butterfly with it; for he was 
 fastened to the leaf, and could not get away from it. 
 
 Mercy! how frightened poor little Thumbelina was when 
 the Cockchafer flew with her up into the tree! But espe- 
 cially she was sorry for the fine white Butterfly whom she 
 had bound fast to the leaf, for, if he could not free himself 
 from it, he would be obliged to starve. The Cockchafer, 
 however, did not trouble himself at all about this. He 
 seated himself with her upon the biggest green leaf of the 
 tree, gave her the sweet part of the flowers to eat, and de- 
 clared that she was very pretty, though she did not in the 
 least resemble a cockchafer. Afterward came all the other 
 Cockchafers who lived in the tree to pay a visit; they 
 looked at Thumbelina, and said: 
 
 ''Why, she has not even more than two legs! — that has 
 a wretched appearance." 
 
 "She has not any feelers!" cried another. 
 
 "Her waist is quite slender — fie! she looks like a human 
 creature — how ugly she is!" said all the lady Cockchafers. 
 
 And yet Thumbelina was very pretty. Even the Cock- 
 chafer who had carried her off saw that; but when all the 
 others declared she was ugly, he believed it at last, and 
 would not have her at all — ^she might go whither she liked. 
 Then they flew down with her from the tree, and set her 
 upon a daisy, and she wept, because she was so ugly that the 
 Cockchafers would have nothing to say to her; and yet she 
 was the loveliest little being one could imagine, and as 
 tender and delicate as a rose-leaf. 
 
 The whole summer through poor Thumbelina lived quite 
 alone in the great wood. She wove herself a bed out of 
 blades of grass, and hung it up under a shamrock, so that 
 
44 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 she was protected from the rain ; she plucked the honey out 
 of the flowers for food, and drank of the dew which stood 
 every morning upon the leaves. Thus summer and autumn 
 passed away; hut now came winter, the cold, long winter. 
 All the birds who had sung so sweetly before her flew away; 
 trees and flowers shed their leaves; the great shamrock 
 under which she had lived shriveled up, and there remained 
 nothing of it but a yellow, withered stalk; and she was 
 dreadfully cold, for her clothes were torn, and she herself 
 was so frail and delicate — poor little Thumbelina! she was 
 nearly frozen. It began to snow, and every snowflake that 
 fell upon her was like a whole shovelful thrown upon one 
 of us, for we are tall, and she was only an inch long. Then 
 she wrapped herself in a dry leaf, but that tore in the mid- 
 dle, and would not warm her — she shivered with cold. 
 
 Close to the wood into which she had now come lay a 
 great corn-iield, but the corn was gone long ago ; only the 
 naked dry stubble stood up out of the frozen ground. 
 These were just like a great forest for her to wander 
 through; and, oh! how she trembled with cold. Then she 
 arrived at the door of the Field Mouse. This Mouse had a 
 little hole under the stubble. There the Field Mouse lived, 
 warm and comfortable, and had a v/hole roomful of corn — a 
 glorious kitchen and larder. Poor Thumbelina stood at 
 the door just like a poor beggar girl, and begged for a lit- 
 tle bit of a barleycorn, for she had not had the smallest mor- 
 sel to eat for the last two days. 
 
 "You poor little creature," said the Field Mouse — for 
 after all she was a good old Field Mouse — "come into my 
 warm room and dine with me." 
 
 As she was pleased with Thumbelina, she said, "If you 
 like you may stay with me through the winter, but you 
 must keep mv room clean and neat, and tell me little stories, 
 for I am very fond of those." 
 
 And Thum.belina did as the kind old Field Mouse bade 
 her, and had a very good time of it. 
 
 "Now we shall soon have a visitor," said the Field Mouse. 
 "My neighbor is in the habit of visiting me once a week. 
 He is even better oiT than I am, has great rooms, and beau- 
 tiful black velvety fur. If you could only get him for your 
 husband you would be well provided for. You must tell 
 him the prettiest stories you know. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 45 
 
 But Thumbelina did not care about this; she thought 
 nothing of the neighbor, for he was a Mole. He came and 
 paid his visits in his black velvet coat. The Field Mouse 
 told how rich and how learned he was, and how his house 
 was more than twenty times larger than hers; that he had 
 learning, but that he did not like the sun and beautiful 
 flowers, for he had never seen them. 
 
 Thumbelina had to sing, and she sang "Cockchafer, fly 
 away," and "When the parson goes afield." Then the Mole 
 fell in love with her, because of her delicious voice; but he 
 said nothing, for he was a sedate Mole. 
 
 A short time before he had dug a long passage through 
 the earth from his own house to theirs; and Thumbelina 
 and the Field Mouse obtained leave to walk in this passage 
 as much as they v/ished. But he begged them not to be 
 afraid of the dead bird which was lying in the passage. It 
 was an entire bird, with wings and beak. It certainly must 
 have died only a short time before, and was now buried 
 just where the Mole had made his passage. 
 
 The Mole took a bit of decayed wood in his mouth, and 
 it glimmered like fire in the dark; then he went first and 
 lighted them through the long, dark passage. When they 
 came where the dead bird lay, the Mole thrust up his broad 
 nose against the ceiling, so that a great hole was made, 
 through which the daylight could shine down. In the mid- 
 dle of the floor lay a dead Swallow, his beautiful wings 
 pressed close against his sides, and his head and feet drawn 
 back under his feathers; the poor bird had certainly died of 
 cold. Thumbelina was very sorry for this; she was very 
 fond of all the little birds, who had sung and twittered so 
 prettily before her through the summ.er; but the Mole gave 
 him a push with his crooked legs, and said, "Now he doesn't 
 pipe any more. It must be miserable to be born a little bird. 
 I'm thankful that none of my children can be that; such a 
 bird has nothing but his 'tweet-tweet,' and has to starve in 
 the winter!" 
 
 "Yes, you may well say that, as a clever man," observed 
 the Field Mouse. "Of what use is all this 'tweet-tweet' to a 
 bird when the winter comes? He must starve and freeze. 
 But they say that's very aristocratic." 
 
 Thumbelina said nothing; but when the two others 
 turned their backs on the bird, she bent down, put the 
 
46 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 feathers aside which covered his head, and kissed him upon 
 his closed eyes. 
 
 "Perhaps it was he who sang so prettily before me in the 
 summer," she thought. "How much pleasure he gave me, 
 the dear, beautiful bird!" 
 
 The Mole now closed up the hole through which the day- 
 light shone in, and accompanied the ladies homiC. But at 
 night Thumbelina could not sleep at all; so she got up out 
 of her bed, and wove a large, beautiful carpet of hay, and 
 carried it and spread it over the dead bird, and laid the thin 
 stamens of flowers, soft as cotton, and which she had found 
 in the Field Mouse's room, at the bird's sides, so that he 
 might lie soft in the ground. 
 
 ''Farewell, you pretty little bird!" said she. "Farewell! 
 and thanks to you for your beautiful song in the summer, 
 when all the trees were green, and the sun shone down 
 warmly upon us." And then she laid the bird's head upon 
 her heart. But the bird was not dead; he was only lying 
 there torpid with cold; and now he had been warmed, and 
 came to life again. 
 
 In autumn all the swallows fly away to warm countries; 
 but if one happens to be belated, it becomes so cold that it 
 falls down as if dead, and lies where it fell, and then the cold 
 snow covers it. 
 
 Thumbelina fairly trembled, she was so startled; for the 
 bird was large, very large, compared with her, who was only 
 an inch in height. But she took courage, laid the cotton 
 closer round the poor bird, and brought a leaf that she had 
 used as her own coverlet, and laid it over the bird's head. 
 
 The next night she crept out to him again — and now he 
 was alive, but quite weak ; he could only open his eyes for a 
 moment and look at Thumbelina, who stood before him 
 with a bit of decayed wood in her hand, for she had not a 
 lantern. 
 
 "I thank you, you pretty little child," said the sick Swal- 
 low; 'T have been famously warmed. Soon I shall get my 
 strength back again, and I shall be able to fly about in the 
 warm sunshine." 
 
 "Oh!" she said, "it is so cold without. It snows and 
 freezes. Stay in your warm bed, and I will nurse you." 
 
 Then she brought the Swallow water in the petal of a 
 flower; and the Swallow drank, and told her how he had 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 47 
 
 torn one of his wings in a thorn-bush, and thus he had not 
 been able to fly so fast as the other swallows, which had sped 
 away, far away, to the warm countries. So at last he had 
 fallen to the ground; but he could remember nothing more, 
 and did not know at all how he had come where she had 
 found him. 
 
 The whole winter the Swallow remained there, and 
 Thumbelina nursed and tended him heartily. Neither the 
 Field Mouse nor the Mole heard anything about it, for 
 they did not like the poor Swallow. So soon as the spring 
 came, and the sun warmed the earth, the Swallow bade 
 Thumbelina farewell, and she opened the hole which the 
 Mole had made in the ceiling. The sun shone in upon them 
 gloriously, and the Swallow asked if Thumbelina would go 
 with him; she could sit upon his back, and they would fly 
 away far into the green wood. But Thumbelina knew that 
 the old Field Mouse would be grieved if she left her. 
 
 "No, I cannot!" said Thumbelina. 
 
 "Farewell, farewell, you good, pretty girl!" said the 
 Swallow; and he flew out into the sunshine. Thumbelina 
 looked after him, and the tears came into her eyes, for she 
 was heartily and sincerely fond of the poor Swallow. 
 
 "Tweet-weet! tweet-weet!" sang the birdj and flew into 
 the green forest. Thumbelina felt very sad. She did not get 
 permission to go out into the warm sunshine. The corn 
 which was sown in the field over the house of the Field 
 Mouse grew up high into the air; it was quite a thick wood 
 for the poor girl, who was only an inch in height. 
 
 "You are betrothed now, Thumbelina," said the Field 
 Mouse. "My neighbor has proposed for you. What great 
 fortune for a poor child like you ! Now you must work at 
 your outfit, woolen and linen clothes both; for you must 
 lack nothing when you have become the Mole's wife." 
 
 Thumbelina had to turn the spindle, and the Mole hired 
 four spiders to weave for her day and night. Every evening 
 the Mole paid her a visit; and he was always saying that 
 when the summer should draw to a close, the sun would not 
 shine nearly so hot, for that now it burned the earth almost 
 as hard as a stone. Yes, when the summer should have 
 gone, then he would keep his wedding day with Thumbelina. 
 But she was not glad at all, for she did not like the tiresome 
 Mole. Every morning when the sun rose, and every even- 
 
48 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 ing when it went down, she crept out at the door; and when 
 the wind blew the corn-ears apart, so that she could see the 
 blue sky, she thought how bright and beautiful it was out 
 here, and wished heartily to see her dear Swallow again. 
 But the Swallow did not come back; he had doubtless flown 
 far away, in the fair green forest. When autumn came on, 
 Thumbelina had all her outfit ready. 
 
 "In four weeks you shall celebrate your wedding," said 
 the Field Mouse to her. 
 
 But Thumbelina wept, and declared she would not have 
 the tiresome Mole. 
 
 "Nonsense!" said the Field Mouse; "don't be obstinate, 
 or I will bite you with my white teeth. He is a very fane 
 man whom you will marry. The Queen herself has not 
 such a black velvet fur; and his kitchen and cellar are full. 
 Be thankful for your good fortune." 
 
 Now the wedding was to be held. The Mole had already 
 come to fetch Thumbelina; she was to live with him, deep 
 under the earth, and never to come out into the warm sun- 
 shine, for that he did not like. The poor little thing was 
 very sorrowful ; she was now to say farewell to the glorious 
 sun, which after all, she had been allowed by the Field 
 Mouse to see from the threshold of the door. 
 
 "Farewell, thou bright sun!" she said, and stretched out 
 her arms toward it, and walked a little way forth from the 
 house of the Field Mouse, for now the corn had been 
 reaped, and only the dry stubble stood in the fields. Fare- 
 well!" she repeated, twining her arms round a little red 
 flower which still bloomed there. "Greet the little Swallow 
 from me, if you see him again." 
 
 "Tweet-weet! tweet-weet!" a voice suddenly sounded 
 over her head. She looked up; it was the little Swallow, 
 who was just flying by. When he saw Thumbelina he was 
 very glad; and Thumbelina told him how loth she was to 
 have the ugly Mole for her husband, and that she was to 
 live deep under the earth, where the sun never shone. And 
 she could not refrain from weeping. 
 
 "The cold winter is coming now," said the Swallow; "I 
 am. goins: to flv far away into the warm countries. Will you 
 come with me? You can sit upon my back, then we shall 
 fly from the ugly Mole and his dark room — away, far away, 
 over the mountains to the warm countries, where the sun 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 49 
 
 shines warmer than here, where it is always summer, and 
 there are lovely flowers. Only fly with me, you dear little 
 Thumbelina, you who saved my life when I lay frozen in 
 the dark earthy passage." 
 
 "Yes, I will go with you!" said Thumbelina; and she 
 seated herself on the bird's back, with her feet on his out- 
 spread wing, and bound her girdle fast to one of his strong- 
 est feathers; then the Swallow flew up into the air over 
 forest and over sea, high up over the great mountains, 
 where the snow always lies ; and Thumbelina felt cold in the 
 bleak air, but then she hid under the bird's warm feathers, 
 and only put out her little head to admire all the beauties 
 beneath her. 
 
 At last they came to the warm countries. There the sun 
 shone far brighter than here; the sky seemed twice as 
 high; in ditches and on the hedges grew the most beautiful 
 blue and green grapes; lemons and oranges hung in the 
 woods; the air was fragrant with myrtles and balsams, and 
 on the roads the loveliest children ran about, playing with 
 gay butterflies. But the Swallow flew still farther, and it be- 
 came more and more beautiful. Under the more glorious 
 green trees by the blue lake stood a palace of dazzling white 
 m.arble, from the olden time. Vines clustered around lofty 
 pillars; at the top were many swallows' nests, and in one 
 of these the Swallow lived who carried Thumbelina. 
 
 "That is my house," said the Swallow; "but it is not right 
 that you should live there. It is not yet properly arranged 
 by a great deal, and you will not be content with it. Select 
 for yourself one of the splendid flowers which grow down 
 yonder, then I will put you into it, and you shall have 
 everything as nice as you can wish." 
 
 "That is capital," cried she, and clapped her little hands. 
 
 A great marble pillar lay there, which had fallen to the 
 ground and had been broken into three pieces; but be- 
 tween these pieces grew the most beautiful great white 
 flowers. The Swallow flew down with Thumbelina, and set 
 her upon one of the broad leaves. But what was the little 
 maid's surprise? There sat a little man in the midst of the 
 flower, as white and transparent as if he had been made of 
 glass ; he wore the neatest of gold crowns on his head, and 
 the brightest wings on his shoulders; he himself was not 
 bigger than Thumbelina. He was the Angel of the flower. 
 
 4 
 
50 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 In each of the flowers dwelt such a Httle man or woman, 
 but this one was King over them all. 
 
 "Heavens! how beautiful he is!" whispered Thumbelina 
 to the Swallow. 
 
 The little Prince was very much frightened at the Swal- 
 low, for it was quite a gigantic bird to him, who was so 
 small. But when he saw Thumbelina, he became very glad; 
 she was the prettiest maiden he had ever seen. Therefore 
 he took off his golden crown, and put it on her head, asked 
 her name, and if she would be his wife, and then she should 
 be Queen of all the flowers. Now this was truly a diiiferent 
 kind of man to the son of the Toad, and the Mole with the 
 black velvet fur. She therefore said "Yes" to the charming 
 Prince. And out of every flower came a lady or lord, so 
 pretty to behold that it was a delight; each one brought 
 Thumbelina a present; but the best gift was a pair of beauti- 
 ful wings which had belonged to a great white fly; these 
 were fastened to Thumbelina's back, and now she could fly 
 from flower to flower. Then there w^as much rejoicing; and 
 the little Swallow sat above them in the nest, and was to 
 sing the marriage song, which he accordingly did as well 
 as he could; but yet in his heart he was sad, for he was so 
 fond, Oh! so fond of Thumbelina, and would have liked 
 never to part from her. 
 
 "You should not be called Thumbelina," said the Flower 
 Angel to her; "that is an ugly name, and you are too fair 
 for it — we will call you Maia." 
 
 THE GOLOSHES OF FORTUNE. 
 
 I. 
 
 A BEGINNING. 
 
 In a house in Copenhagen, not far from the King's New 
 Market, a companv — a verv large company — had assem- 
 bled, having received invitations to an evening party there. 
 One-half of the companv had alreadv sat at the card-tables, 
 the other half awaited the result of the hostess' question, 
 "What shall we do now?" They had progressed so far, and 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 51 
 
 the entertainment began to show some degree of animation. 
 Among other subjects the conversation turned upon the 
 Middle Ages. Some considered that period much more in- 
 teresting than our own time; yes, Councilor Knap defended 
 this view so zealously that the lady of the house went over 
 at once to his side; and both loudly exclaimed against Oer- 
 sted's treatise in the Almanac on old and modern times, in 
 which the chief advantage is given to our own day. The 
 councilor considered the times of the Danish King Hans 
 as the noblest and happiest age. 
 
 While the conversation takes this turn, only interrupted 
 for a moment by the arrival of a newspaper, which con- 
 tained nothing worth reading, we will betake ourselves to 
 the ante-chamber, where the cloaks, sticks, and goloshes 
 had found a place. Here sat two maids — an old one and a 
 young one. One would have thought they had come to 
 escort their mistresses home; but, on looking at them more 
 closely, the observer could see that they were not ordinary 
 servants; their shapes were too graceful for that, their 
 complexions too delicate, and the cut of their dresses too 
 uncommon. They were two fairies. The younger was not 
 Fortune, but lady's-maid to one of her ladies of the bed- 
 chamber, who carry about the more trifling gifts of Fortune. 
 The elder one looked somewhat more gloomy — she was 
 Care, who always goes herself in her owii exalted person to 
 perform her business, for thus she knows that it is well 
 done. 
 
 They were telling each other where they had been that 
 day. The messenger of Fortune had only transacted a few 
 unimportant affairs, as, for instance, she had preserved a 
 new bonnet from a shower of rain, had procured an honest 
 man a bow from a titled Nobody, and so on; but what she 
 had still to relate was something quite extraordinary. 
 
 "I can likewise tell," she said, "that to-day is my birth- 
 day; and in honor of it a pair of goloshes has been en- 
 trusted to me, which I am to bring to the human race. 
 These goloshes have the property that everyone who puts 
 them on is at once transported to the time and place in 
 which he likes best to be — every wish in reference to time, 
 place, and circumstance is at once fulfilled; and so for once 
 man can be happy here below!" 
 
 -'Believe me,'' said Care, "he will be very unhappy, and 
 
52 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 will bless the moment when he can get rid of the goloshes 
 again." 
 
 "What are you thinking of?" retorted the other. "Now 
 I shall put them at the door. Somebody will take them by 
 mistake, and become the happy one." 
 
 You see, this was the dialogue they held. 
 
 II. 
 WHAT HAPPENED TO THE COUNCILOR. 
 
 It was late. Councilor Knap, lost in contemplation of the 
 times of King Hans, wished to get home; and fate willed 
 that instead of his own goloshes he should put on those of 
 Fortune, and thus went out into East Street. But by the 
 power of the goloshes he had been put back three hundred 
 years — into the days of King Hans ; and therefore he put 
 his foot into the mud and mire in the street, because in those 
 days there was not any pavement. 
 
 "Why, this is horrible — how dirty it is here!" said the 
 councilor. "The good pavement is gone, and all the lamps 
 are put out." 
 
 The moon did not yet stand high enough to give much 
 light, and the air was tolerably thick, so that all objects 
 seemed to melt together in the darkness. At the next cor- 
 ner a lamp hung before a picture of the Madonna, but the 
 light it gave was as good as none; he only noticed it when 
 he stood just under it, and his eyes fell upon the painted 
 figure. 
 
 "This is probably a museum of art," thought he, "where 
 they have forgotten to take down the sign." 
 
 A couple of men in the costume of those past days went 
 by him. 
 
 "How they look!'' he said. "They must come from a 
 masquerade." 
 
 Suddenly there was a sound of drums and fifes, and 
 torches gleamed brightly. The councilor started. And 
 now he saw a strange procession go past. First came a 
 whole troop of drummers, beating their instruments very 
 dexterously; they were followed by men-at-arms, with 
 longbows and crossbows. The chief man in the procession 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 53 
 
 was a clerical lord. The astonished councilor asked what 
 was the meaning of this, and who the man might be. 
 
 "That is the Bisliop of Zealand." 
 
 "What in the world has come to the bishop!" said the 
 councilor, with a sigh, shaking his head, "This could not 
 possibly be the bishop !" 
 
 Ruminating on this, and without looking to the right or 
 to the left, the councilor went through the East Street, and 
 over the Highbridge Place. The bridge which led to the 
 Palace Square was not to be found; he perceived the shore 
 of a shallow water and at length encountered two people, 
 who sat in a boat, 
 
 "Do you wish to be ferried over to the Holm, sir?" they 
 asked. 
 
 "To ■ the Holm !" repeated the councilor, who did not 
 know, you see, in what period he was. 'T want to go to 
 Christian's Haven and to Little Turf Street.'' 
 
 The men stared at him. 
 
 "Pray tell me where the bridge is?" said he. "It is 
 shameful that no lanterns are lighted here; and it is as 
 muddy, too, as if one were walking in a marsh." But the 
 longer he talked with the boatmen the less could he under- 
 stand them. "I don't understand your Bornhelm talk," he 
 at last cried, angrily, and turned his back upon them. He 
 could not find the bridge, nor was there any paling. "It is 
 quite scandalous how things look here!" he said — never 
 had he thought his own times so miserable as this evening. 
 "I think it will be best if I take a cab," thought he. But 
 v^'here were the cabs? — not one v/as to be seen. "I shall 
 have to go back to the King's New Market, where there are 
 many carriages standing; otherwise I shall never get as far 
 as Christian's Haven.'' 
 
 Now he went toward East Street, and had almost gone 
 through it when the moon burst forth. 
 
 "What in the world have they been erecting here?" he 
 exclaimed, when he saw the East Gate, which in those days 
 stood at the end of East Street. 
 
 In the meantime, however, he found a passage open, and 
 through this he came out upon our Nevv^ Market; but it was 
 a broad meadow. Single bushes stood forth, and across the 
 
54 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 meadow ran a great canal or stream. A few miserable 
 wooden booths for Dutch skippers were erected on the op- 
 posite shore. 
 
 "Either I behold a Fata Aforgana, or I am tipsy," sighed 
 the councilor. "What can that be? What can that be?" 
 
 He turned back, in the full persuasion that he must be ill. 
 In walking up the street he looked more closely at the 
 houses; most of them were built of laths, and many were 
 only thatched with straw. 
 
 "No, I don't feel well at all!" he lamented. "And yet I 
 only drank one glass of punch! But I cannot stand that; 
 and besides, it was very foolish to give us punch and warm 
 salmon. I shall mention that to our hostess — the agent's 
 lady. Suppose I go back and say how I feel? But that 
 looks ridiculous, and it is a question if they will be up still." 
 
 He looked for the house, but could not find it. 
 
 "That is dreadful!" he cried; "I don't know East Street 
 again. Not one shop is to be seen ; old, miserable, tumble- 
 down huts are all I see, as if I were at Roeskilde or Ring- 
 stedt. Oh, I am ill! It's no use to make ceremony. But 
 where in all the world is the agent's house? It is no longer 
 the same; but within there are people up still. I certainly 
 must be ill !" 
 
 He now reached a half-open door, where the light shone 
 through a chink. It was a tavern of that date — a kind of 
 beer-house. The room had the appearance of a Dutch 
 wine-shop ; a number of people, consisting of seamen, citi- 
 zens of Copenhagen, and a few scholars, sat in deep conver- 
 sation over their jugs, and paid little attention to the new- 
 comer. 
 
 'T beg pardon," said the councilor to the hostess, "but I 
 feel very unwell ; would you let them get me a fly to go to 
 Christian's Haven?" 
 
 The woman looked at him and shook her head; then she 
 spoke to him in German. 
 
 The councilor now supposed that she did not understand 
 Danish, so he repeated his wish in the German language. 
 This, and his costume, convinced the woman that he was a 
 foreigner. She soon understood that he felt unwell, and 
 therefore brought him a jug of water. It certainly tasted a 
 little of sea-water, though it had been taken from the spring 
 outside. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 55 
 
 The councilor leaned his head upon his hand, drew a 
 deep breath, and thought of all the strange things that were 
 happening about him. 
 
 "Is that to-day's number of the Day?" he said, quite 
 mechanically, for he saw the woman was putting away a 
 large sheet of paper. 
 
 She did not understand what he meant, but handed him 
 the leaf; it was a woodcut representing a strange appear- 
 ance in the air which had been seen in the city of Cologne. 
 
 ''That is very old," said the councilor, who became quite 
 cheerful at sight of this antiquity. "How did you come by 
 this strange leaf? This is very interesting, although the 
 whole thing is a fable. Nowadays these appearances are 
 explained to be northern lights that have been seen; prob- 
 ably they arise from electricity." 
 
 Those who sat nearest to him and heard his speech looked 
 at him in surprise, and one of them rose, took off his hat 
 respectfully, and said, with a very grave face: 
 
 "You must certainly be a very learned man, sir!" 
 
 "Oh, no!" replied the councilor; "I can only say a word 
 or two about things one ought to understand." 
 
 ^'Modestia is a beautiful virtue," said the man. "More- 
 over, I must say to your speech, 'mihi secus videtur;' yet 
 I will gladly suspend my Judiciimi." 
 
 "May I ask with whova I have the pleasure of speaking?'' 
 asked the councilor. 
 
 "I am a bachelor of theology," replied the man. 
 
 This answer sufficed for the councilor; the title corre- 
 sponded with the garb. 
 
 "Certainly," he thought, "this must be an old village 
 schoolmaster, a queer character, such as one finds some- 
 times over in Jutland." 
 
 "This is certainly not a ^ocus docendi," began the man; 
 "but I beg you to take the trouble to speaK. You are 
 doubtless well read in the ancients?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," replied the councilor. ''I am fond of reading 
 useful old books; and am fond of the modern ones too, with 
 the exception of the 'Every-day Stories,' of which we have 
 enough, in all conscience.'' 
 
 "Every-day Stories?" said the bachelor, inquiringly. 
 
 "Yes, I mean the new romances we have now." 
 
 "Oh!" said the man, with a smile, "they are very witty, 
 
56 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 and are much read at court. The King is especially partial 
 to the romances by Messieurs Iffven and Gaudian, which 
 talks about King Arthur and his knights of the Round Ta- 
 ble. He has jested about it with his noble lords." 
 
 "That I certainly have not yet read," said the councilor; 
 "that must be quite a new book published by Heiberg." 
 
 "No," retorted the man, "it is not published by Heiberg, 
 but by Godfrey von Gehmen.""^ 
 
 "Indeed! is he the author?" asked the councilor. "That 
 is a very old name : was not that the name of about the first 
 printer who appeared in Denmark?" 
 
 "Why, he is our first printer," replied the man. 
 
 So far it had gone well. But now one of the men began 
 to speak of a pestilence which he said had been raging a 
 few years ago; he meant the plague of 1484. The councilor 
 supposed he meant the cholera, and so the conversation 
 went on tolerably. The Freebooters' War of 1490 w^as so 
 recent that it could not escape mention. The English pi- 
 rates had taken ships from the very wharves, said the mian; 
 and the councilor, who was well acquainted with the events 
 of 1 801, joined in manfully against the English. The rest 
 of the talk, however, did not pass over so well; every mo- 
 ment there was a contradiction. The good bachelor was 
 terribly ignorant, and the simplest assertion of the councilor 
 seemed too bold or too fantastic. They looked at each 
 other, and when it became too bad, the bachelor spoke 
 Latin, in the hope that he would be better understood, but 
 it was of no use. 
 
 "How are you now?" asked the hostess, and she plucked 
 the councilor by the sleeve. 
 
 Now his recollection came back; in the course of the 
 conversation he had forgotten everything that had hap- 
 pened. 
 
 "Good Heavens! where am I?" he said, and he felt dizzy 
 when he thought of it. 
 
 "We'll drink claret, mead, and Bremen beer," cried one of 
 the guests, "and you shall drink with us." 
 
 Two girls came in. One of them had on a cap of two 
 colors. They poured out drink and bowed; the councilor 
 felt a cold shudder running all down his back. "What's 
 
 * The first printer and publisher in Denmark under King Hans. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 57 
 
 that? what's that?" he cried; but he was obhged to drink 
 with them. They took possession of the good man quite 
 pohtely. He was in despair, and when one said that he was 
 tipsy he felt not the slightest doubt regarding the truth of 
 the statement, and only begged them to procure him a 
 droschky. Now they thought he was speaking Muscovite. 
 
 Never had he been in such rude, vulgar company. 
 
 "One would think the country was falling back into heath- 
 enism,'' was his reflection. "This is the most terrible mo- 
 ment of my life." 
 
 But at the same time the idea occurred to him to bend 
 down under the table, and then to creep to the door. He 
 did so; but just as he had reached the entry, the others dis- 
 covered his intention. They seized him by the feet, and 
 now the goloshes, to his great good fortune, came ofif, and 
 — the whole enchantment vanished. 
 
 The councilor saw quite plainly, in front of him, a lamp 
 burning, and behind it a great building; everything looked 
 familiar and splendid. It was East Street, as we know it 
 now. He lay with his legs turned toward a porch, and op- 
 posite to him sat the watchman asleep. 
 
 "Good Heavens! have I been lying here in the street 
 dreaming?" he exclaimed. "Yes, this is East Street, sure 
 enough! how splendidly bright and gay! It is terrible 
 what an effect that one glass of punch must have had on 
 me!" 
 
 Two minutes afterward he was sitting in a fly, which 
 drove him out to Christian's Haven. He thought of the 
 terror and anxiety he had undergone, and praised from his 
 heart the happy present, our own time, which, with all its 
 shortcomings, was far better than the period in which he 
 had been placed a short time before. 
 
 HI. 
 
 THE WATCHMAN'S ADVENTURES. 
 
 "On my word, yonder lies a pair of goloshes!" said the 
 watchman. "They must certainly belong to the lieutenant 
 who lives upstairs. They are lying close to the door." 
 
 The honest m.an would gladly have rung the bell and de- 
 livered them, for upstairs there was a light still burning; 
 
 r 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 WASHINGTON 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 ST. LOUS t-y.o. 
 
58 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 but he did not wish to disturb the other people in the House, 
 and so he let it alone. 
 
 "It must be very warm to have a pair of such things on," 
 said he. "How nice and soft the leather is!" They fitted 
 his feet very well. "How droll it is in the world! Now, he 
 might lie down in his warm bed, and yet he does not! There 
 he is pacing up and down the room. He is a happy man! 
 He has neither wife nor children, and every evening he is 
 at a party. Oh, I wish I were he, then I should be a happy 
 man!" 
 
 As he uttered this wish, the goloshes he had put on pro- 
 duced their effect, and the watchman v/as transported into 
 the body and being of the lieutenant. Then he stood up in 
 the room, and held a little pink paper in his fingers, on 
 which was a poem, a poem written by the lieutenant him- 
 self. For who is there who has not once in his life had a 
 poetic moment? and at such a moment, if one writes down 
 one's thoughts, there is poetry. 
 
 Yes, people write poetr}'- when they are in love; but a 
 prudent man does not print such poems. The lieutenant 
 was in love — and poor — that's a triangle, or, so to speak, the 
 half of a broken square of happiness. The lieutenant felt 
 that very keenly, and so he laid his head against the win- 
 dow-frame and sighed a deep sigh. 
 
 "The poor watchman in the street yonder is far happier 
 than I. He does not know what I call want. He has a 
 home, a wife, and children, who weep at his sorrow and re- 
 joice at his joy. Oh! I should be happier than I am, could 
 I change my being for his, and pass through life with his 
 humble desires and hopes. Yes, he is happier than I !" 
 
 In that same moment the watchman became a watchman 
 again; for through the power of the goloshes of Fortune he 
 had assumed the personality of the lieutenant; but then we 
 know he felt far less content, and preferred to be just what 
 he had despised a short time before. So the watchman be- 
 came a watchman again. 
 
 "That was an ugly dream," said he, "but droll enough. 
 It seemed to me that I was the lieutenant up yonder, and 
 that it was not pleasant at all. I w^as without the wife, and 
 the boys, who are now ready to half stifle me with kisses." 
 
 He sat down again and nodded. The dream would not 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 59 
 
 go quite out of his thoughts. He had the goloshes still on 
 his feet. A falling star glided down along the horizon. 
 
 "There went one," said he, "but for all that, there are 
 enough left. I should like to look at those things a little 
 nearer, especially the moon, for that won't vanish under 
 one's hands. The student for whom my wife washes says 
 that when we die we fly from one star to another. That's 
 not true, but it would be very nice. If I could only make a 
 little spring up there, then my body might lie here on the 
 stairs for all I care." 
 
 Now there are certain assertions we should be very cau- 
 tious of making in this world, but doubly careful when we 
 have goloshes of Fortune on our feet. Just hear what hap- 
 pened to the watchman. 
 
 So far as we are concerned, we all understand the rapidity 
 of dispatch by steam ; we have tried it either in railways, or 
 in steamers across the sea. But this speed is as the crawling 
 of the sloth or the march of the snail in comparison with the 
 swiftness with which light travels. That flies nineteen million 
 times quicker. Death is an electric shock we receive in our 
 hearts, and on the wings of electricity the liberated soul flies 
 away. The sunlight requires eight minutes and a few sec- 
 onds for a journey of more than ninety-five millions of miles; 
 on the wings of electric power the soul requires only a few 
 moments to accomplish the same flight. The space between 
 the orbs of the universe is, for her, not greater than, for us, 
 the distances between the houses of our friends dwelling in 
 the same town, and even living close together. Yet this 
 electric shock costs us the life of the body here below, un- 
 less, like the watchman, we have the magic goloshes on. 
 
 In a few seconds the watchman had traversed the distance 
 of two hundred and sixty thousand miles to the moon, which 
 body, as we know, consists of a much lighter material than 
 that of our earth, and is, as we should say, soft as new-fallen 
 snow. He found himself on one of the many ring moun- 
 tains with which we are familiar through Dr. Madler's 
 great map of the moon. Within the ring a great bowl- 
 shaped hollow went down to the depth of a couple of miles. 
 At the base of the hollow lay a town, of whose appearance 
 we can only form an idea by pouring the white of an egg 
 into a glass of water; the substance here was just as soft as 
 the white of an egg, and formed similar towers, and cupolas, 
 
60 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 and terraces like sails, transparent and floating in the thin 
 air. Our earth hung- over his head like a great dark, red 
 ball. 
 
 He immediately became aware of a number of beings, 
 who were certainly what we call "men," but their appear- 
 ance was ver}^ different from ours. If they had been put 
 up in a row and painted, one would have said, "that's a beau- 
 tiful arabesque!" They had also a language; but no one 
 could expect that the soul of the watchman should under- 
 stand it. But the watchman's soul did understand it, for 
 our souls have far greater abilities than we suppose. Does 
 not its wonderful dramatic talents show itself in our dreams? 
 Then every one of our acquaintances appears speaking in 
 his own character, and with his own voice, in a way that no 
 one of us could imitate in our waking hours. How does 
 our soul bring back to us people of whom we have not 
 thought for many years? Suddenly they come into our 
 souls with their smallest peculiarities about them. In fact, 
 it is a fearful thing, that memory which our souls possess; 
 it can reproduce every sin, every bad thought. And then, . 
 it may be asked, shall we be able to give an account of 
 every idle word that has been in our hearts and on our 
 lips?'' 
 
 Thus the watchman's soul understood the language of the 
 people in the moon very well. They disputed about this 
 earth, and doubted if it could be inhabited; the air, they as- 
 serted, must be too thick for a sensible moon-man to live 
 there. They considered that the moon alone was peopled; 
 for that, they said, was the real body in which the old-world 
 people dwelt. They also talked of politics. 
 
 But let us go down to the East Street, and see how it fared 
 with the body of the watchm.an. 
 
 He sat lifeless upon the stairs. His pipe had fallen out of 
 his hand, and his eyes stared up at the moon, which his 
 honest body was wondering about. 
 
 "What's o'clock, watchman?" asked a passer-by. But 
 the man who didn't answer was the watchman. Then the 
 passengers tweaked him quite gently by the nose, and then 
 he lost his balance. There lay the body stretched out at full 
 length — the man was dead. All his comrades were very 
 much frightened; dead he waSj and dead he remained. It 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 61 
 
 was reported, and it was discussed, and in the morning the 
 body was carried out to the hospital. 
 
 That would be a pretty jest for the soul if it should chance 
 to come back, and probably seek its body in the East Street, 
 and not find it! Most likely it would go first to the police 
 and afterward to the address office, that inquiries might be 
 made from thence respecting the missing goods ; and then it 
 would wander out to the hospital. But we may console 
 ourselves with the idea that the soul is most clever when 
 it acts upon its own account; it is the body that makes it 
 stupid. 
 
 As we have said, the watchman's body was taken to the 
 hospital, and brought into the washing-room; and naturally 
 enough the first thing they did there was to pull off the gol- 
 oshes; and then the soul had to come back. It took its way 
 directly toward the body, and in a few seconds there was life 
 in the man. He declared that this had been the most terri- 
 ble night of his life ; he would not have such feelings again, 
 not for a shilling; but now it was past and over. 
 
 The same day he was allowed to leave; but the goloshes 
 remained at the hospital. 
 
 IV. 
 
 A GREAT MOMENT.— A VERY UNUSUAL JOURNEY. 
 
 Everyone who belongs to Copenhagen knows the look of 
 the entrance to the Frederick's Hospital in Copenhagen; 
 but, as perhaps a few will read this story who do not be- 
 long to Copenhagen, it becomes necessary to give a short 
 description of it. 
 
 The hospital is separated from the street by a tolerably 
 high railing, in which the thick iron rails stand so far apart, 
 that certain very thin inmates are said to have squeezed be- 
 tween them, and thus paid their little visits outside the 
 premises. The part of the body most difficult to get through 
 was the head; and here, as it often happens in the world, 
 small heads were the most fortunate. This will be sufficient 
 as an introduction. 
 
 One of the young volunteers, of whom one could only say 
 in one sense that he had a great head, had the watch that 
 
62 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 evening. The rain was pouring down; but in spite of this 
 obstacle he wanted to go out, only for a quarter of an hour. 
 It was needless, he thought, to tell the porter of his wish, 
 especially if he could slip through between the rails. There 
 lay the goloshes which the watchman had forgotten. It 
 never occurred to him in the least that they were gol- 
 oshes of Fortune. They would do him very good service in 
 this rainy weather, and he pulled them on. Now the ques- 
 tion was whether he could squeeze through the bars; till now 
 he had never tried it. There he stood. 
 
 "I wish to goodness I had my head outside!" cried he. 
 And immediately, though his head was very thick and big, 
 it glided easily and quickly through. The goloshes must 
 have understood it well; but now the body was to slip 
 through also, and that could not be done. "I am too fat. 
 I thought my head was the thickest. I shan't get through." 
 
 Now he wanted to pull his head back quickly, but he 
 could not manage it; he could move his neck, but that was 
 all. His first feeling was one of anger, and then his spirits 
 sank down to zero. The goloshes of Fortune had placed 
 him in this terrible condition, and, unfortunately, it never 
 occurred to him to wish himself free. No ; instead of wish- 
 ing, he only strove, and could not stir from the spot. The 
 rain poured down; not a creature was to be seen in the 
 street ; he could not reach the gate bell, and how was he to 
 get loose? He foresaw that he would have to remain here 
 vmtil morning, and then they would have to send for a 
 blacksmith to file through the iron bars. But such a busi- 
 ness is not to be done quickly. The whole charity school 
 would be upon its legs; the whole sailors' quarter close by 
 would come up and see him standing in the pillory; and a 
 fine crowd there would be. 
 
 "Hu!" he cried, "the blood's rising to my head, and I 
 shall go mad! Yes, I'm going mad! If I were free, most 
 likely it would pass over." 
 
 That is what he ought to have said at first. The very 
 moment he had uttered the thought his head was free; and 
 now he rushed in, quite dazed with the fright the goloshes of 
 Fortune had given him. But we must not think the whole 
 affair was over; there was much worse to come yet. 
 
 The night passed away, and the following day too, and 
 nobody sent for the goloshes. In the evening a display of 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 63 
 
 oratory was to take place in an amateur theater in a distant 
 street. The house was crammed, and among the audience 
 was the volunteer from the hospital, who appeared to have 
 forgotten his adventure of the previous evening. He had 
 the goloshes on, for they had not been sent for; and as it 
 was dirty in the streets, they might do him good service. A 
 new piece was recited; it was called "My Aunt's Spectacles." 
 These were spectacles which, when anyone put them on in a 
 great assembly of people, made all present look like cards, 
 so that one could prophesy from them all that would happen 
 in the coming year. 
 
 The idea struck him ; he would have liked to possess such 
 a pair of spectacles. If they were used rightly, they would 
 perhaps enable the wearer to look into people's hearts ; and 
 that, he thought, would be more interesting than to see 
 what was going to happen in the next year; for future events 
 would be known in time, but the people's thoughts never. 
 
 "Now I'll look at the row of ladies and gentlemen on the 
 first bench ; if one could look directly into their hearts ! yes, 
 that must be a hollow, a sort of shop. How my eyes would 
 wander about in that shop! In every lady's, yonder, I 
 should doubtless find a great milliner's warehouse ; with this 
 one here the shop is empty, but it would do no harm to have 
 it cleaned out. But would there really be such shops? Ah, 
 yes!" he continued, sighing, "I know one in which all the 
 goods are first-rate, but there's a servant in it already; that's 
 the only drawback in the whole shop! From one and an- 
 other the word would be 'Please to step in!' Oh, that I 
 might only step in, like a neat little thought, and slip 
 through their hearts!" 
 
 That was the word of command for the goloshes. The 
 volunteer shriveled up, and began to take a very remarkable 
 journey through the hearts of the first row of spectators. 
 The first heart through which he passed was that of a lady, 
 but he immediately fancied himself in the Orthopaedic In- 
 stitute, in the room where the plaster casts of deformed limbs 
 are kept hanging against the walls; the only difference was, 
 that these casts were formed in the institute when the pa- 
 tients came in, but here in the heart they were formed and 
 preserved after the good persons had gone away. For they 
 were casts of female friends, whose bodily and mental faults 
 were preserved here. 
 
64 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 Quickly he had passed into another female heart. But this 
 seemed to him. like a great holy church; the white dove of 
 innocence fluttered over the high altar. Gladly would he 
 have sunk down on his knees; but he was obliged to go 
 away into the next heart. Still, however, he heard the 
 tones of the organ, and it seemed to him that he himiself had 
 become another and a better man. He felt himself not un- 
 worthy to enter into the next sanctuary, which showed itself 
 in the form of a poor garret, containing a sick mother. But 
 through the window the warm sun streamed in, and two 
 sky-blue birds sang full of childlike joy, while the sick 
 mother prayed for a blessing on her daughter. 
 
 Now he crept on his hands and knees through an over- 
 filled butcher's shop. There was meat, and nothing but 
 meat, wherever he went. It was the heart of a rich, re- 
 spectable man, whose name is certainly to be found in the 
 address book. 
 
 Now he was in the heart of this man's wife ; this heart was 
 an old dilapidated pigeon-house. The husband's portrait 
 was used as a mere weathercock; it stood in connection with 
 the doors, and these doors opened and shut according as 
 the husband turned. 
 
 Then he came into a cabinet of mirrors, such as w^e find in 
 the Castle of Rosenburg; but the mirrors magnified in a 
 great degree. In the middle of the floor sat, like a Grand 
 Lama, the insignificant I of the proprietor, astonished in 
 the contemplation of his own greatness. 
 
 Then he fancied himself transported into a narrow needle- 
 case full of pointed needles; and he thought, "This must de- 
 cidedly be the heart of an old maid!" But that was not the 
 case. It was the heart of a young officer, wearing several 
 orders, and of whom one said, "He's a man of intellect and 
 heart." 
 
 Quite confused was the poor volunteer when he emerged 
 from the heart of the last person in the first row. He could 
 not arrange his thoughts, and fancied it must be his power- 
 ful imagination which had run away with him. 
 
 "Gracious powers!" he sighed. "I must certainly have a 
 great tendency to go mad. It is also unconscionably hot in 
 here; the blood is rising to my head!" 
 
 And now he remembered the great event of the last even- 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 65 
 
 ing; how his head had been caught between the iron rails of 
 the hospital. 
 
 "That's where I must have caught it," thought he. "I 
 must do something at once. A Russian bath might be very 
 good. I wish I were lying on the highest board in the bath- 
 house." 
 
 And there he lay on the highest board in the vapor bath; 
 but he was lying there in all his clothes, in boots and gol- 
 oshes, and the hot drops from the ceiling were falling on his 
 face. 
 
 "Hi!" he cried, and jumped down to take a plunge bath. 
 
 The attendant uttered a loud cry on seeing a person there 
 with all his clothes on. The volunteer had, however, 
 enough presence of mind to whisper to him, "It's for a 
 wager!" But the first thing he did when he got into his 
 own room was to put a big blister on the nape of his neck, 
 and another on his back, that they might draw out his mad- 
 ness. 
 
 Next morning he had a very sore back ; and that was all 
 he had got by the goloshes of Fortune. 
 
 V. 
 
 THE TRANSFORMATION OF THE COPYING CLERK. 
 
 The watchman, whom we surely have not yet forgotten, 
 in the meantime thought of the goloshes, which he had 
 found and brought to the hospital. He took them away; 
 but as neither the lieutenant nor anyone in the street would 
 own them, they were taken to the police office. 
 
 "They look exactly like my own goloshes," said one of the 
 copying gentlemen, as he looked at the unowned articles 
 and put them beside his own. "More than a shoemaker's 
 eye is required to distinguish them from one another."' 
 
 "Mr. Copying Clerk," said a servant, coming in with 
 some papers. 
 
 The copying clerk turned and spoke to the man; when he 
 had done this, he turned to look at the goloshes again; he 
 was in great doubt if the right-hand or the left-hand pair be- 
 longed to him. 
 
 "It must be those that are wet," he thought. Now here 
 
 5 
 
66 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 he thought wrong, for these were the goloshes of Fortune; 
 but why should not the police be sometimes mistaken? He 
 put them on, thrust his papers into his pocket, and put a 
 few manuscripts under his arm, for they were to be read at 
 home, and abstracts to be made from them. And now it 
 was Sunday morning, and the weather was fine. "A walk 
 to Fredericksburg would do me good," said he; and he went 
 out accordingly. 
 
 There could not be a quieter, steadier person than this 
 young man. We grant him his little walk with all our 
 hearts; it will certainly do him good after so much sitting. 
 At first he only walked like a vegetating creature, so the 
 goloshes had no opportunity of displaying their magic 
 power. 
 
 In the avenue he met an acquaintance, one of our 
 younger poets, who told him he was going to start next day 
 on a summer trip. 
 
 "Are you going away again already?" asked the copying 
 clerk. "What a happy, free man you are! You can fly 
 wherever you like ; we others have a chain to our foot." 
 
 "But it is fastened to the bread tree!" replied the poet. 
 "You need not be anxious for the morrow; and when you 
 grow old you get a pension." 
 
 "But you are better off, after all," said the copying clerk. 
 "It must be a pleasure to sit and write poetry. Everybody 
 says agreeable things to you, and then you are your own 
 master. Ah, yon should just try it, poring over the frivol- 
 ous affairs in the court." 
 
 The poet shook his head; the copying clerk shook his 
 head also; each retained his own opinion; and thus they 
 parted. 
 
 "They are a strange race, these poets !" thought the copy- 
 ing clerk. "I should like to try and enter into such a nature 
 — to become a poet myself. I am certain I should not write 
 such complaining verses as the rest. What a splendid 
 spring day for a poet! The air is so remarkably clear, the 
 clouds are so beautiful, and the green smells so sweet. For 
 many years I have not felt as I feel at this moment." 
 
 We already notice that he has become a poet. To point 
 this out would, in most cases, be what the Germans call 
 "mawkish." It is a foolish fancy to imagine a poet different 
 from other people, for among the latter there may be na- 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 67 
 
 tures more poetical than those of many an acknowledged 
 poet. The difference is only that the poet has a better spir- 
 itual memory; his ears hold fast the feeling and the idea 
 until they are embodied clearly and firmly in words; and 
 the others cannot do that. But the transition from an every- 
 day nature to that of a poet is always a transition, and as 
 such it must be noticed in the copying clerk. 
 
 "What glorious fragrance!'' he cried. "How it reminds 
 me of the violets at Aunt Laura's! Yes, that was when I 
 was a little boy. I have not thought of that for a long time. 
 Tlie good old lady! She lies yonder, by the canal. She 
 always had a twig or a couple of green shoots in the water, 
 let the winter be as severe as it might. The violets bloomed, 
 while I had to put warm farthings against the frozen win- 
 dow-panes to make peep-holes. That was a pretty view. 
 Out in the canal the ships were frozen in, and deserted by 
 the whole crew ; a screaming crow was the only living crea- 
 ture left. Then, when the spring breezes blew, it all became 
 lively; the ice was sawn asunder amid shouting and cheers, 
 the ships were tarred and rigged, and then they sailed away 
 to strange lands. I remained here, and must always remain, 
 and sit at the police ofhce, and let others take passports for 
 abroad. That's my fate. Oh, yes!" and he sighed deeply. 
 Suddenly he paused. "Good Heaven! what is come to me? 
 I never thought or felt as I do now. It must be the spring 
 air; it is just as dizzying as it is charming!" He felt in his 
 pockets for his papers. 
 
 "These will give me something else to think of," said he, 
 and let his eyes wander over the first leaf. There he read: 
 " 'Dame Sigbirth; an original tragedy in five acts.' What is 
 that? And it is my own hand. Have I written this tragedy? 
 'The Intrigue on the Promenade ; or, the Day of Penance — 
 Vaudeville.' But where did I get that from? It must have 
 been put into my pocket. Here is a letter. Yes, it was 
 from the manager of the theater; the pieces were rejected, 
 and the letter is not at all politely worded. H'm! H'm!'' said 
 the copying clerk, and he sat down upon a bench; his 
 thoughts were elastic; his head was quite soft. Involun- 
 tarily he grasped one of the nearest flowers; it was a common 
 little daisy. What the botanists required several lectures to 
 explain to us, this flower told in a minute. It told the glory 
 of its birth; it told of the strength of the sunlight, which 
 
68 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 Spread out the delicate leaves and made them give out fra- 
 grance. Then he thought of the battles of life, which like- 
 wise awaken feelings in our breasts. Air and light are the 
 lovers of the flower, but light is the favored one. Toward 
 the light it turned, and only when the light vanished the 
 flower rolled her leaves together and slept in the embrace of 
 the air. 
 
 "It is light that adorns me!" said the Flower. 
 
 "But the air allows you to breathe," whispered the poet's 
 voice. 
 
 Just by him stood a boy, knocking with his stick upon the 
 marshy ground. The drops of water spurted up among the 
 green twigs, and the copying clerk thought of the millions 
 of infusoria which were cast up on high with the drops, 
 which were the same to them, in proportion to their size, as 
 it would be to us if we were hurled high over the region of 
 clouds. And the copying clerk thought of this, and of the 
 great change which had taken place within him ; he smiled. 
 "I sleep and dream! it is wonderful, though, how naturally 
 one can dream and yet know all the tim.e that it is a dream. 
 I should like to be able to remember it all clearly to-morrow 
 when I wake. I seem to myself quite unusually excited. 
 What a clear appreciation I have of everything, and how 
 free I feel! But I am certain that if I remember anything 
 of it to-morrow, it will be nonsense. That has often been 
 so with me before. It is with all the clever, famous things 
 one says and hears in dreams, as with the money of the elves 
 under the earth ; when one receives it, it is rich and beautiful, 
 but, looked at by daylight, it is nothing but stones and dried 
 leaves. Ah!" he sighed, quite plaintivel}^ and gazed at the 
 chirping birds, as they sprang merrily from bough to bough, 
 "they are much better off than I. Flying is a noble art. 
 Happy he who is born with wings. Yes, if I could change 
 myself into anything, it should be into a lark." 
 
 In a moment his coat-tails and sleeves grew together and 
 formed wings; his clothes became feathers, and his goloshes 
 claws. He noticed it quite plainly, and laughed inwardly. 
 "Well, now I can see that I am dreaming, but so wildly I 
 have never dreamed before." And he flew up into the green 
 boughs and sang; but there was no poetry in the song, for 
 the poetic nature was gone. The goloshes, like everyone 
 who wishes to do any business thoroughly, could only do 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 69 
 
 one thing at a time. He wished to be a poet, and he became 
 one. Then he wished to be a Httle bird, and, in changing 
 thus, the former pecuHarity was lost, 
 
 "That is charming!" he said. "In the day-time I sit in 
 the pohce office among the driest of law papers; at night I 
 can dream that I am flying about as a lark in the Freder- 
 icksburg Garden. One could really write quite a popular 
 comedy upon it." 
 
 Now he flew down into the grass, turned his head in every 
 direction, and beat with his beak upon the bending stalks of 
 grass, which, in proportion to his size, seemed to him as 
 long as palm branches of Northern Africa. 
 
 It was only for a moment, and then all around him be- 
 came as the blackest night. It seemed to him that some im- 
 mense substance was cast over him; it was a great cap, 
 which a sailor-boy threw over the bird. A hand came in 
 and seized the copying clerk by the back and wings in a way 
 that made him whistle. In his first terror he cried aloud, 
 "The impudent rascal! I am copying clerk at the police 
 office!" But that sounded to the boy only like "piep! piep!" 
 and he tapped the bird on the beak and wandered on with 
 him. 
 
 In the alley the boy met with two other boys, who be- 
 longed to the educated classes, socially speaking; but, ac- 
 cording to abilities, they ranked in the lowest class in the 
 school. These bought the bird for a few Danish shillings; 
 and so the copying clerk was carried back to Copenhagen. 
 
 "It's a good thing that I am dreaming," he said, "or I 
 should become really angry. First I was a poet, and now 
 Fm a lark ! Yes, it must have been the poetic nature which 
 transformed me into that little creature. It is a miserable 
 state of things, especially when one falls into the hands of 
 boys. I should like to know what the end of it will be." 
 
 The boys carried him into a very elegant room. A stout 
 and smiling lady received them. But she was not at all 
 gratified to see the common field bird, as she called the lark, 
 coming in, too. Only for one day she would consent to it; 
 but they must put the bird in the empty cage which stood by 
 the window. 
 
 "Perhaps that will please Polly," she added, and laughed 
 at a great Parrot swinging himself proudly in his ring in 
 
70 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 the handsome brass cage. "It's Polly's birthday," she said, 
 simply, "so the little field bird shall congratulate him." 
 
 Polly did not answer a single word; he only swnng 
 proudly to and fro. But a pretty Canary bird, who had 
 been brought here last summer out of his warm, fragrant 
 fatherland, began to sing loudly. 
 
 "Screamer!" said the lady; and she threw a white hand- 
 kerchief over the cage. 
 
 "Piep! piep!" sighed he; "here's a terrible snowstorm." 
 And thus sighing, he was silent. 
 
 The copying clerk, or, as the lady called him, the field 
 bird, was placed in a little cage close to the Canary, and not 
 far from the Parrot. The only human words which Polly 
 could say, and which often sounded very comically, were 
 "Come, let's be men now!" Everything else that he 
 screamed out was just as unintelligible as the song of the 
 Canary bird, except for the copying clerk, who was now 
 also a bird, and who understood his comrades very well. 
 
 "I flew under the green palm tree and the blossoming 
 almond tree!" sang the Canary. "I flew with m}^ brothers 
 and sisters over the beautiful flowers and over the bright 
 sea, where the plants waved in the depths. I also saw 
 many beautiful parrots, who told the merriest stories.'' 
 
 "Those were wild birds," replied the Parrot. "They had 
 no education. Let us be men now! Why don't you laugh? 
 If the lady and all the strangers could laugh at it, so can 
 you. It is a great fault to have no taste for what is pleas- 
 ant. No, let us be men now." 
 
 "Do you remember the pretty girls who danced under the 
 tents spread out beneath the blooming trees? Do you re- 
 member the sweet fruits and the cooling juice in the Avild 
 plants?" 
 
 "Oh, yes!" replied the Parrot; "but here I am far better 
 off. I have good care and genteel treatment. I know I've 
 a good head, and I don't ask for more. Let us be men now. 
 You are what they call a poetic soul. I have thorough 
 knowledge and wit. You have genius but no prudence. 
 You mount up into those high natural notes of yours, and 
 then you get covered up. This is never done to me; no, no, 
 for I cost them a little more. I make an impression with 
 my beak, and can cast wit round me. Now let us be men!" 
 
 "Oh. my poor blooming fatherland!'' sang the Canary. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 71 
 
 "I will praise thy dark green trees and thy quiet bays, where 
 the branches kiss the clear watery mirror; I'll sing of the 
 joy of all my shining brothers and sisters, where the plants 
 grow by the desert springs." 
 
 "Now, pray leave off these dismal tones," cried the Par- 
 rot. "Sing something at which one can laugh! Laughter 
 is the sign of the highest mental development. Look if a 
 dog or a horse can laugh! No; they can cry; but laughter 
 — that is given to men alone. Ho! ho! ho!" screamed 
 Polly, and finished the jest with: "Let us be men now." 
 
 "You little gray northern bird," said the Canary ; "so you 
 have also become a prisoner. It is certainly cold in your 
 woods, but still liberty is there. Fly out ! they have forgot- 
 ten to close your cage; the upper window is open. Fly! 
 fly!" 
 
 Instinctively the copying clerk obeyed, and flew forth 
 from his prison. At the same moment the half-opened door 
 of the next room creaked, and stealthily, with fierce, spark- 
 ling eyes, the house cat crept in, and made chase upon him. 
 The Canary fluttered in its cage, the Parrot flapped its 
 wings, and cried "Let us be men now!" The copying clerk 
 felt mortally afraid, and flew through the window, away 
 over the houses and streets ; at last he was obliged to rest a 
 little. 
 
 The house opposite had a homelike look ; one of the win- 
 dows stood open, and he flew in. It was his own room; he 
 perched upon the table. 
 
 "Let us be men now," he broke out, involuntarily imitat- 
 ing the Parrot ; and in the same moment he was restored to 
 the form of the copying clerk; but he was sitting on the 
 table. 
 
 "'Heaven preserve me!" he cried. "How could I have 
 come here and fallen so soundly asleep? That was an un- 
 quiet dream, too, that I had. The whole thing was great 
 nonsense." 
 
72 ANDEBSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE BEST THAT THE GOLOSHES BROUGHT. 
 
 On the following day, quite early in the morning, as the 
 clerk still lay in bed, there came a tapping at his door; it 
 was his neighbor, who lodged on the same floor, a young 
 theologian; and he came in. 
 
 "Lend me your goloshes," said he. "It is very wet in the 
 garden. But the sun shines gloriously, and I should like to 
 smoke a pipe down there." 
 
 He put On the goloshes, and was soon in the garden, 
 which contained a plum tree and an apple tree. Even a 
 little garden like this is highly prized in the midst of great 
 cities. 
 
 The theologian wandered up and down the path; it was 
 only six o'clock, and a post-horn sounded out in the street. 
 
 "Oh, traveling! traveling!" he cried out, "that's the great- 
 est happiness in all the world. That's the highest goal of 
 my wishes. Then this disquietude that I feel would be 
 stilled. But it would have to be far away. I should like to 
 see beautiful Switzerland, to travel through Italy, to " 
 
 Yes, it was a good thing that the goloshes took effect im- 
 mediately, for he might have gone too far even for himself, 
 and for us others, too. He was traveling; he was in the 
 midst of Switzerland, packed tightly with eight others in the 
 interior of a diligence. He had a headache and a weary 
 feeling in his neck, and his feet had gone to sleep, for they 
 were swollen by the heavy boots he had on. He was hov- 
 ering in a condition between sleeping and waking. In the 
 right-hand pocket he had his letters of credit, in his left- 
 hand pocket his passport, and a few louis d'or were sewn 
 into a little bag he wore on his breast. Whenever he dozed 
 off, he dreamed he had lost one or other of these posses- 
 sions ; and then he would start up in a feverish w^ay, and the 
 first movement his hand made was to describe a triangle 
 from left to right, and toward his breast, to feel whether he 
 still possessed them or not. Umbrellas, hats, and walking- 
 sticks swung in the net over him and almost took away the 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 73 
 
 prospect, which was impressive enough; he glanced out at 
 it, and his heart sang what one poet at least, whom we know, 
 has sung in Switzerland, but has not yet printed: 
 
 'Tis a prospect as fine as heart can desire, 
 
 Before me Mont Blanc the rough; 
 'Tis pleasant to tarry here and admire, 
 If only you've money enough. 
 
 Great, grave, and dark was all nature around him. The 
 pine woods looked like little mosses upon the high rocks, 
 vvhose summits were lost in cloudy mists ; and then it began 
 to snow, and the wind blew cold. 
 
 "Hu!" he sighed; '"if we were only on the other side of the 
 Alps, then it would be summer, and I should have got 
 money on my letter of credit; my anxiety about this pre- 
 vents me from enjoying Switzerland. Oh, if I were only at 
 the other side!" 
 
 And then he was on the other side, in the mists of Italy, 
 between Florence and Rome. The Lake Thrasymene lay 
 spread out in the evening light, like flaming gold among the 
 dark blue hills. Here, where Hannibal beat Flaminius, the 
 grape vines held each other by their green fingers; pretty, 
 half-naked children were keeping a herd of coal-black pigs 
 under a clump of fragrant laurels by the wayside. If we 
 could reproduce this scene accuratel}-, all would cry, "Glori- 
 ous Italy!" But neither the theologian nor any of his 
 traveling companions in the carriage of the vetturino 
 thought this. 
 
 Poisonous flies and gnats flew into the carriage by thou- 
 sands. In vain they beat the air frantically v,^ith a myrtle 
 branch— the flies stung them nevertheless. There was not 
 one person in the carriage whose face was not swollen and 
 covered with stings. The poor horses looked miserable the 
 flies tormented them wofully, and it only mended the matter 
 for a moment when the coachman dismounted and scraped 
 them clean from the insects that sat upon them in .o-reat 
 swarms. Now the sun sank down ; a short but icy coldness 
 pervaded all nature; it was like the cold air of' a funeral 
 vault after the sultry summer day; and all around the hills 
 and clouds put on that rem.arkable green tone which we no- 
 tice on some old pictures, and consider unnatural unless we 
 
74 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 have ourselves witnessed a similar play of color. It was a 
 glorious spectacle; but the stomachs of all were empty and 
 their bodies exhausted, and every wish of the heart turned 
 toward a resting-place for the night; but how could that be 
 won? To descry this resting place all eyes were turned 
 more eagerly to the road than to the beauties of nature. 
 
 The way now led through an olive wood; he could have 
 fancied himself passing between knotty willow trunks at 
 home. Here, by the solitary inn, a dozen crippled beggars 
 had taken up their positions; the quickest among them 
 looked, to quote an expression of Marryat's, like the eldest 
 son of Famine, who had just come of age. The others were 
 either blind or had withered legs, so that they crept about 
 on their hands, or they had withered arms and fingerless 
 hands. This was misery in rags indeed. ^'Ecccllcnza niis- 
 erabillP' they sighed, and stretched forth their diseased 
 limbs. The hostess herself, in untidy hair, and dressed in a 
 dirty blouse, received her guests. The doors were tied up 
 with string; the floor of the room was of brick, and half of 
 it was grubbed up; bats flew about under the roof, and the 
 
 smell within 
 
 "Yes, lay the table down in the stable," said one of the 
 travelers. "There, at least, one knows what one is breath- 
 ing." 
 
 The windows were opened, so that a little fresh air might 
 find i'ts way in; but quicker than the fresh air came the 
 withered arms and the continual whining, ^^Miserabili, Ec- 
 cellenza/" On the walls were many inscriptions; half of 
 them were against "Labella Italia." 
 
 The supper was served. It consisted of a watery soup, 
 seasoned with pepper and rancid oil. This last dainty 
 played a chief part in a salad; musty eggs and roasted 
 cocks'-combs were the best dishes. Even the wine had a 
 strange taste — it was a dreadful mixture. 
 
 At night the boxes were placed against the doors. One 
 of the travelers kept watch while the others slept. The 
 theologian was the sentry. Oh, how close it was in there! 
 The heat oppressed him, the gnats buzzed and stung, and 
 the mtserabili outside moaned in their dreams. 
 
 "Yes, traveling would be all very well," said the theo- 
 logian, "if one had no body. If the body could rest and the 
 mind fly ! Wherever I go, I find a want that oppresses my 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 75 
 
 heart; it is something better than the present moment I de- 
 sire. Yes, something better — the best; but what is that, 
 and where is it? In my own heart I know very weh what 
 I want; I want to attain to a happy goal, the happiest of 
 ah!" 
 
 And so soon as the word was spoken he found himself at 
 home. The long white curtains hung down from the win- 
 dows, and in the middle of the room stood a black coffin; in 
 this he was lying in the quiet sleep of death; his wish was 
 fulfilled — his body was at rest and his spirit roaming. "Es- 
 teem no man happy who is not yet in his grave," were the 
 words of Solon; here their force was proved anew. 
 
 Every corpse is a sphinx of immortality; the sphinx here 
 also in the black sarcophagus answered, what the living 
 man had laid down two days before: 
 
 "Thou strong, stern Death! Thy silence waketh fear; 
 Thou leavest mold'ring gravestones for thy traces. 
 Shall not the soul see Jacob's ladder here? 
 No resurrection type, but churchyard grasses? 
 The deepest woes escape the world's dull eye: 
 Thou that alone on duty's path hath sped. 
 Heavier those duties on thy heart Vv'ould lie 
 Than lies the earth now on thy coffined head." 
 
 Two forms were moving to and fro in the room. We 
 know them both. They were the Fairy of Care and the 
 Ambassadress of Happiness. They bent down over the 
 dead man. 
 
 "Do you see?" said Care. "What happiness have your 
 goloshes brought to men?" 
 
 "They have at least brought a permanent benefit to him 
 who slumbers here," replied Happiness. 
 
 "Oh, no!" said Care. "He went away of himself; he was 
 not summoned. His spirit was not strong enough to lift 
 the treasures w^hich he had been destined to lift. I will do 
 him a favor." 
 
 And she drew the goloshes from his feet; then the sleep of 
 death was ended, and the awakened man raised himself up. 
 Care vanished, and with her the goloshes disappeared too; 
 doubtless she looked upon them as her property. 
 
76 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 THE HARDY TIN SOLDIER. 
 
 There were once five-and-twenty tin soldiers; they were 
 all brothers, for they had all been born of one old tin spoon. 
 They shouldered their muskets, and looked straight before 
 them; their uniform was red and blue, and very splendid. 
 The first thing they had heard in the world, when the lid was 
 taken ofif their box, had been the words "Tin soldiers!" 
 These words were uttered by a little boy, clapping his 
 hands; the soldiers had been given to him, for it was his 
 birthday; and now he put them upon the table. Each sol- 
 dier was exactly like the rest; but one of them had been cast 
 last of all, and there had not been enough tin to finish him; 
 but he stood as firmly upon his one leg as the others on 
 their two; and it was just this Soldier who became remark- 
 able. 
 
 On the table on which they had been placed stood many 
 other playthings, but the toy that attracted most attention 
 was a neat castle of cardboard. Through the little windov/s 
 one could see straight into the hall. Before the castle some 
 little trees were placed round a little looking glass, which 
 was to represent a clear lake. Waxen swans swam on this 
 lake, and were mirrored in it. This was all very pretty ; but 
 the prettiest of all was a little lady, who stood at the open 
 door of the castle; she was also cut out in paper, but she 
 had a dress of the clearest gauze, and a little narrow blue 
 ribbon over her shoulders, that looked like a scarf; and in 
 the middle of this ribbon was a shining tinsel rose as big as 
 her whole face. The little lady stretched out both her arms, 
 for she was a dancer; and then she lifted one leg so high 
 that the Tin Soldier could not see it at all, and thought that, 
 like himself, she had but one leg. 
 
 "That would be the wife for me," thought he ; "but she is 
 very grand. She lives in a castle, and I have only a box, 
 and there are five-and-twenty of us in that. It is no place 
 for her. But I must try to make acquaintance with her." 
 
 And then he lay down at full length behind a snuff-box 
 -which was on the table ; there he could easily watch the little 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 77 
 
 dainty lady, who continued to stand upon one leg without 
 losing her balance. 
 
 When the evening came all the other tin soldiers were 
 put into their box, and the people in the house went to bed. 
 Now the toys began to play at "visiting," and at "war," and 
 "giving balls." The tin soldiers rattled in their box, for 
 they wanted to join, but could not lift the lid. The nut- 
 cracker threw somersaults, and the pencil amused itself on 
 the table; there was so much noise that the Canary woke up, 
 and began to speak too, and even in verse. The only two 
 who did not stir from their places were the Tin Soldier and 
 the Dancing Lady; she stood straight up on the point of one 
 of her toes, and stretched out both her arms; and he was just 
 as enduring on his one leg; and he never turned his eyes 
 away from her. 
 
 Now the clock struck twelve — and, bounce! the lid flew 
 o& the snuff-box; but there was no snuff in it, but a little 
 black Goblin ; you see, it was a trick. 
 
 "Tin Soldier!" said the Goblin, "don't stare at things that 
 don't concern you." 
 
 But the Tin Soldier pretended not to hear him. 
 
 "Just you wait till to-morrow!" said the Goblin. 
 
 But when the morning came, and the children got up, the 
 Tin Soldier was placed in the window ; and whether it was 
 the Goblin or the draught that did it, all at once the window 
 flew open, and the Soldier fell head over heels out of the 
 third story. That was a terrible passage! He put his leg- 
 straight up, and stuck with helm.et downward and his bayo- 
 net between the paving-stones. 
 
 The servant-maid and the little boy came down directly to 
 look for him, but though they almost trod upon himi, they 
 could not see him. If the Soldier had cried out "Here I 
 am!" they would have found him; but he did not think it fit- 
 ting to call out loudly, because he was in uniform. 
 
 Now it began to rain; the drops soon fell thicker, and at 
 last it came down into a complete stream. ¥/hen the rain 
 was past, two street boys came by. 
 
 "Just look!" said one of them, "there lies a Tin Soldier. 
 He must come out and ride in the boat.'' 
 
 And they made a boat out of a newspaper, and put the 
 Tin Soldier in the middle of it, and so he sailed down the 
 gutter, and the two boys ran beside him and clapped their 
 
78 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 hands. Goodness preserve us! how the waves rose in that 
 gutter, and how fast the stream ran ! But then it had been 
 a heavy rain. The paper boat rocked up and down, and 
 sometimes turned round so rapidly that the Tin Soldier 
 trembled ; but he remained firm, and never changed counte- 
 nance, and looked straight before him, and shouldered his 
 musket. 
 
 All at once the boat went into a long drain, and it be- 
 came as dark as if he had been in his box. 
 
 "Where am I going now?" he thought. "Yes, yes, that's 
 the Goblin's fault. Ah ! if the little lady only sat here with 
 me in the boat, it might be twice as dark for what I should 
 care." 
 
 Suddenly there came a great Water Rat, which lived un- 
 der the drain. 
 
 "Have you a passport?" said the Rat. "Give me your 
 passport." 
 
 But the Tin Soldier kept silence, and held his musket 
 tighter than ever. 
 
 The boat went on, but the Rat came after it. Hu! how 
 he gnashed his teeth, and called out to the bits of straw and 
 wood. 
 
 "Hold him! hold him! He hasn't paid toll — he hasn't 
 shown his passport!" 
 
 But the stream became stronger and stronger. The Tin 
 Soldier could see the bright daylight where the arch ended; 
 but he heard a roaring noise, which might well frighten a 
 bolder man. Only think — just where the tunnel ended, the 
 drain ran into a great canal; and for him that would have 
 been as dangerous as for us to be carried down a great 
 waterfall. 
 
 Now he was already so near it that he could not stop. The 
 boat was carried out, the poor Tin Soldier stiffening himself 
 as much as he could, and no one could say that he moved an 
 eyelid. The boat whirled round three or four times, and 
 was full of water to the very edge — it must sink. The Tin 
 Soldier stood up to his neck in water, and the boat sank 
 deeper and deeper, and the paper was loosened more and 
 more; and now the water closed over the soldier's head. 
 Then he thought of the pretty little Dancer, and how he 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALE'S. 79 
 
 should never see her again; and it sounded in the soldier's 
 ears : 
 
 Farewell, farewell, thou warrior brave. 
 For this day thou must die! 
 
 And now the paper parted, and the Tin Soldier fell out; 
 but at that moment he was snapped up by a great fish. 
 
 Oh, how dark it was in that fish's body ! It was darker 
 yet than in the drain tunnel; and then it was very narrow 
 too. But the Tin Soldier remained unmoved, and lay at 
 full length shouldering his musket. 
 
 The fish swam to and fro; he made the most wonderful 
 movements, and then became quite still. At last something 
 flashed through him like lightning. The daylight shone 
 quite clear, and a voice said aloud, "The Tin Soldier!" The 
 fish had been caught, carried to market, bought, and taken 
 mto the kitchen, where the cook cut him open with a large 
 knife. She seized the Soldier round the body with both 
 her hands, and carried him into the room, where all were 
 anxious to see the remarkable man who had traveled about 
 in the inside of a fish; but the Tin Soldier was not at all 
 proud. They placed him on the table, and there — no! 
 What curious things may happen in the world. The Tin 
 Soldier was in the very room in which he had been before ! 
 he saw the same children, and the same toys stood on the 
 table; and there was the pretty castle, with the graceful little 
 Dancer. She was still balancing herself on one leg, and 
 held the other extended in the air. She was hardy too. 
 That moved the Tin Soldier; he was very nearly weeping 
 tin tears, but that would not have been proper. He looked 
 at her, but they said nothing to each other. 
 
 _ Then one of the little boys took the Tin Soldier and flung 
 him into the stove. He gave no reason for doing this. It 
 must have been the fault of the Goblin in the snuff-box. 
 
 The Tin Soldier stood there quite illuminated, and felt a 
 heat that was terrible; but whether this heat proceeded from 
 the real fire or from love he did not know. The colors had 
 quite gone off from him; but whether that had happened on 
 the journey, or had been caused by grief, no one could say. 
 He looked at the little lady, she looked at him, and he felt 
 that he was melting; but he still stood firm, shouldering 
 his musket. Then suddenly the door flew open, and the 
 
80 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 draught of air caught the Dancer, and she flew Hke a sylph 
 just into the stove to the Tin Soldier, and flashed up in a 
 flame, and she was gone. Then the Tin Soldier melted 
 down into a lump; and when the servant-maid took the 
 ashes out next day, she found him in the shape of a little tin 
 heart. But of the Dancer nothing remained but the tinsel 
 rose, and that was burned as black as a coal. 
 
 THE STORY OF A MOTHER. 
 
 A Mother sat by her little child; she was very sorrowful, 
 and feared that it would die. Tcs little face was pale, and its 
 eyes were closed. The child drew its breath with difficulty, 
 and sometimes so deepl}' as if it were sighing; and then the 
 mother looked more sorrowfully than before on the little 
 creature. 
 
 Then there was a knock at the door, and a poor old man 
 came in, wrapped up in something that looked like a great 
 horse-cloth, for that keeps warm; and he required it, for it 
 was cold winter. Without everything was covered with 
 ice and snow, and the wind blew so sharply that it cut one's 
 face. 
 
 And as the old man trembled with cold, and the child was 
 quiet for a mom.ent, the mother v^'cnt and put some beer on 
 the stove in a little pot, to warm_ it for him. The old man 
 sat dov/n and rocked the cradle, and the mother seated her- 
 self on an old chair by him, looked at her sick child that 
 drew its breath so painfully, and seized the little hand. 
 
 "You think I shall keep it, do you not?" she asked. ''The 
 good God will not take it from me !" 
 
 And the old man — he was Death — nodded in such a 
 strange way, that it might just as well mean yes as no. And 
 the mother cast down her eyes, and tears rolled down her 
 cheeks. Her head became heavy; for three davs and three 
 nights she had not closed her e^^es; and now she slept, but 
 onlv for a minute; then she started up and shivered with 
 cold. 
 
 "What is that?" she asked, and looked round on all sides; 
 but the old man was eone, and her little child v/as gone; he 
 had taken it with him. And there in the corner the old 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 81 
 
 clock was humming and whirring; the heavy leaden weight 
 ran down to the lioor — plump ! — and the clock stopped. 
 
 But the poor mother rushed out of the house crying for 
 her child. 
 
 Out in the snow sat a woman in long black garments, and 
 she said, "Death has been with you in your room; I saw him 
 hasten away with your child; he strides faster than the wind, 
 and never brings back what he has taken away." 
 
 "Only tell me which way he has gone," said the mother. 
 "Tell me the way, and I will find him." 
 
 "I know him," said the woman in the black garments; 
 "but before I tell you, you must sing me all the songs that 
 3'ou have sung to your child. I love those songs; I have 
 heard them before. I am Night, and I saw your tears when 
 you sang them." 
 
 "I will sing them all, all!" said the mother. "But do not 
 detain me, that I may overtake him, and find my child." 
 
 But Night sat dumb and still. Then the mother wrung 
 her hands, and sang and wept. And there were many 
 songs, but yet more tears, and then Night said, "Go to the 
 right into the dark fir wood; for I saw Death take that path 
 with your little child." 
 
 Deep in the forest there was a cross road, and she did not 
 know which way to take. There stood a Blackthorn Bush, 
 with not a leaf nor a blossom upon it; for it was in the cold 
 winter-time, and icicles hung from the twigs. 
 
 "Have you not seen Death go by, with my little child?" 
 
 "Yes," replied the Bush; "but I shall not tell you which 
 way he went unless you warm me on your bosom. I'm 
 freezing to death here. I'm turning to ice." 
 
 And she pressed the Blackthorn Bush to her bosom, quite 
 close, that it might be well warmed. And the thorns 
 pierced into her flesh, and her blood oozed out in great 
 drops. But the Blackthorn shot out fresh green leaves, and 
 blossomed in the dark winter night, so warm is the heart of 
 a sorrowing mother! And the Blackthorn Bush told her 
 the way that she should go. 
 
 Then she came to a great Lake, on which there was 
 neither ships nor boat. The Lake was not frozen enough to 
 carry her, nor sufficiently open to allow her to wade 
 through, and yet she must cross it if she was to find her 
 child. Then she laid herself down to drink the Lake; and 
 
 6 
 
82 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 that was impossible for anyone to do. But the sorrowing 
 mother thought that perhaps a miracle might be wrought. 
 
 "No, that can never succeed," said the Lake. "Let us 
 rather see how we can agree. I'm fond of collecting pearls, 
 and your eyes are the two clearest I have ever seen; if you 
 will weep them out into me I will carry you over into the 
 great greenhouse, where Death lives and cultivates flowers 
 and trees; each of these is a human life." 
 
 "Oh, what would I not give to get my child!" said the 
 afflicted mother; and she wept yet more, and her eyes fell 
 into the depths of the Lake, and became two costly pearls. 
 But the Lake lifted her up, as if she sat in a swing, and she 
 was wafted to the opposite shore, where stood a wonderful 
 house, miles in length. One could not tell if it was a moun- 
 tain containing forests and caves, or a place that had been 
 built. But the poor mother could not see it, for she had 
 wept her eyes out. 
 
 "Where shall I find Death, who went away with my little 
 child?" she asked. 
 
 "He has not arrived here yet," said an old gray-haired 
 woman, who was going about and watching the hothouse of 
 Death. "How have you found your way here, and who 
 helped you?" 
 
 "The good God has helped me," she replied. "He is 
 merciful, and you will be merciful, too. Where — where shall 
 I find my little child?" 
 
 "I do not know it," said the old woman, "and you cannot 
 see. Many flowers and trees have faded this night, and 
 Death will soon come and transplant them. You knov/ 
 very well that every human being has his tree of life, or 
 his flower of life, just as each is arranged. They look like 
 other plants, but their hearts beat. Children's hearts can 
 beat too. Think of this. Perhaps you may recognize the 
 beating of your child's heart. But what will you give me 
 if I tell you what more you must do?" 
 
 "I have nothing more to give," said the afflicted mother. 
 "But I will go for you to the ends of the earth.'' 
 
 "I have nothing for you to do there." said the old woman, 
 "but you can give me your long black hair. You must 
 know yourself that it is beautiful, and it pleases me. You 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 83 
 
 can take my white hair for it, and that is always some- 
 thing." 
 
 "Do you ask for nothing more?" asked she. "I will give 
 you that gladly." And she gave her beautiful hair, and re- 
 ceived in exchange the old woman's white hair. 
 
 And then they went into the great hothouse of Death 
 where flowers and trees were growing marvelously inter- 
 twined. There stood the fine hyacinths under glass bells, 
 some quite fresh, others somewhat sickly; water snakes 
 were twining about them, and black crabs clung tightly to 
 the stalks. There stood gallant palm trees, oaks, and 
 plantains, and parsley and blooming thyme. Each tree and 
 flower had its name; each was a human life; the people were 
 still alive, one in China, another in Greenland, scattered 
 about in the world. There were great trees thrust into little 
 pots, so that they stood quite crowded, and were nearly 
 bursting the pots ; there was also many a little weakly flower 
 in rich earth, with moss round about it, cared for and tended. 
 But the sorrowful mother bent down over all the smallest 
 plants, and heard the human heart beating in each, and out 
 of millions she recognized that of her child. 
 
 "That is it!" she cried, and stretched out her hands over 
 a little crocus flower, which hung down quite sick and 
 pale. 
 
 "Do not touch the flower," said the old dame; "but place 
 yourself here; and when Death comes — I expect him every 
 minute — then don't let him pull up the plant, but threaten 
 him that you will do the same to the other plants ; then he'll 
 be frightened. He has to account for them all; not one 
 may be pulled up till he receives commission from Heaven." 
 
 And all at once there was an icy cold rush through the 
 hall, and the blind mother felt that Death was arriving. 
 
 "How did you find your way hither?'" said he. "How 
 have you been able to comiC quicker than I?" 
 
 "I am a mother," she answered. 
 
 And Death stretched out his long hands toward the little 
 delicate flower; but she kept her hands tight about it, and 
 held it fast; and yet she was full of anxious care lest he 
 should touch one of the leaves. Then Death breathed upon 
 her hands, and she felt that his breath was colder than the 
 icy wind; and her hands sank down powerless. 
 
 "You can do nothing against me," said Death. 
 
84 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "But the merciful God can," she repHed, 
 
 ''I only do what He commands/' said Death, "I am His 
 gardener. 1 take all His trees and flowers, and transplant 
 them into the great Paradise gardens, in the unknown land. 
 But how they will flourish there, and how it is there, I may 
 not tell you." 
 
 "Give me back my child," said the mother; and she im- 
 plored and wept. All at once she grasped two pretty flow- 
 ers with her two hands, and called to Death, "I'll tear off all 
 your flowers, for I am in despair." 
 
 "Do not touch them," said Death. "You say you are so 
 unhappy, and now you would make another mother just as 
 unhappy !" 
 
 "Another mother?" said the poor woman; and she let the 
 flowers go. 
 
 "There are your eyes for you," said Death. "I have 
 fished them out of the lake ; they gleamed up quite brightly. 
 I did not know that they were yours. Take them back — 
 they are clearer now than before — and then look down into 
 the deep well close by. I will tell you the names of the two 
 flowers you wanted to pull up, and you will see what you 
 were about to frustrate and destroy." 
 
 And she looked down into the well, and it was a happiness 
 to see how one of them became a blessing to the world, how 
 much joy and gladness she diffused around her. And the 
 woman looked at the life of the other, and it was made up of 
 care and poverty, misery and woe. 
 
 "Both are the will of God," said Death. 
 
 "Which of them is the flower of misfortune, and which the 
 blessed one?" she asked. 
 
 "That I may not tell you," answered Death, "but this 
 much you shall hear; that one of these two flowers is that of 
 your child. It was the fate of your child that you saw — the 
 future of your own child." 
 
 Then the mother screamed aloud for terror. 
 
 "Which of them belongs to my child? Tell me that! 
 Release the innocent child! Let mv child free from all that 
 misery! Rather carry it away! Carry it into God's king- 
 dom ! Forget my tears, forget my entreaties, and all that I 
 have done!" 
 
 "I do not understand you,'' said Death. "Will you have 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 85 
 
 your child back, or shall I carry it to that place that you 
 know not?" 
 
 Then the mother wrung her hands, and fell on her knees, 
 and prayed to the good God. 
 
 "Hear me not when I pray against Thy will, which is at 
 all times the best! Hear me not! hear me not!" And she 
 let her head sink down on her bosom. 
 
 And Death went away with her child to the unknown 
 land. 
 
 THE DAISY. 
 
 Now you shall hear! 
 
 Out in the country, close by the roadside, there was a 
 country house; you yourself have certainly once seen it. 
 Before it is a little garden with flowers, and a paling which 
 is painted. Close by it, by the ditch, in the midst of the 
 most beautiful green grass, grew a little Daisy. The sun 
 shone as warmly and as brightly upon it as on the great 
 splendid garden flowers, and so it grew from hour to hour. 
 One morning it stood in full bloom, vv^ith its little shining 
 white leaves spreading like rays round the little yellow sun 
 in the center. It never thought that no man would notice 
 it down in the grass, and that it was a poor despised flow- 
 eret; no, it was very merry, and turned to the warm sun, 
 looked up at it, and listened to the Lark caroling high in 
 the air. 
 
 The little Daisy was as happy as if it were a great holi- 
 day, and yet it was only Monday. All the children were 
 at school; and while they sat on their benches learning, it 
 sat on its little green stalk, and learned also from the warm 
 sun, and from all around, how good God is. And the 
 Daisy was very glad that everything it silently felt was sung 
 so loudly and charmingly by the Lark. And the Daisy 
 looked up with a kind of respect to the happy bird who 
 could sing and fly ; but it was not at all sorrowful because it 
 could not fly and sing also. 
 
 "I can see and hear," it thought; "the sun shines on me, 
 and the forest kisses me. Oh, how richly have I been 
 gifted!" 
 
 Within the palings stood many stiff, aristocratic flowers — 
 
86 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 the less scent they had the more they flaunted. The peonies 
 blew themselves out to be greater than the roses, but size 
 will not do it; the tulips had the most splendid colors, and 
 they knew that, and held themselves bolt upright, that they 
 might be seen more plainly. They did not notice the little 
 Daisy outside there, but the Daisy looked at them the more, 
 and thought, "How rich and beautiful they are! Yes, the 
 pretty birds fly across to them, and visit them. I am glad 
 that I stand so near them, for at any rate I can enjoy the 
 sight of their splendor!" And just as she thought that — ■ 
 "keevit!" — down came flying the Lark, but not down to 
 the peonies and tulips — no, down into the grass to the lowly 
 Daisy, which started so with joy that it did not know what 
 to think. 
 
 The little bird danced round about it, and sang: 
 
 "Oh, how soft the grass is! and see what a lovely little 
 flower, with gold in its heart and silver on its dress!" 
 
 For the yellow point in the Daisy looked like gold, and 
 the little leaves around it shone silvery white. 
 
 How happy was the little Daisy — no one can conceive 
 how happy! The bird kissed it with his beak, sang to it, 
 and then flew up again into the blue air. A quarter of an 
 hour passed, at least, before the Daisy could recover itself. 
 Half ashamed, and yet inwardly rejoiced, it looked at the 
 other flowers in the garden; for they had seen the honor 
 and happiness it had gained, and mvist understand what a 
 joy it was. But the tulips stood up twice as stifY as before, 
 and they looked quite peaky in the face and quite red, for 
 they had been vexed. The peonies were quite wrong- 
 headed; it was well they could not speak, or the Daisy 
 would have received a good scolding. The poor little 
 flower could see very well that they were not in a good 
 humor, and that hurt it sensibly. At this moment there 
 came into the garden a girl with a great, sharp, shining 
 knife; she went straight up to the tulips, and cut ofif one 
 after another of them. 
 
 "Oh!" sighed the little Daisy, "this is dreadful; now it is 
 all over with them." 
 
 Then the girl went away with the tulips. The Daisy was 
 glad to stand out in the grass, and to be only a poor little 
 flower. It felt very grateful; and when the sun went down 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 87 
 
 it folded its leaves and went to sleep, and dreamed all 
 night long about the sun and the pretty little bird. 
 
 Next morning, when the flower again happily stretched 
 out all its white leaves, like little arms, toward the air and 
 the light, it recognized the voice of the bird, but the song he 
 was singing sounded mournfully. Yes, the poor Lark had 
 good reason to be sad; he was caught and now sat in a cage 
 close by the open window. He sang of free and happy 
 roaming, sang of the young green corn in the fields, and of 
 the glorious journey he might make on his wings high 
 through the air. The poor Lark was not in good spirits, for 
 there he sat a prisoner in a cage. 
 
 The little Daisy wished very much to help him. But 
 what was it to do? Yes, that was difficult to make out. It 
 quite- forgot how everything v^^as beautiful around, how- 
 warm the sun shone, and how splendidly white its own 
 leaves were. Ah! it could think only of the imprisoned 
 bird, and how it was powerless to do anything for him. 
 
 Just then two little boys came out of the garden. One 
 of them carried in his hand the knife which the girl had 
 used to cut oflf the tulips. They went straight up to the 
 little Daisy, which could not at all make out what they 
 wanted. 
 
 "Here we may cut a capital piece of turf for the Lark," 
 said one of the boys; and he began to cut ofif a square 
 patch round about the Daisy, so that the flower remained 
 standing in its piece of grass. 
 
 "Tear ofif the flower!" said the other boy. 
 
 And the Daisy trembled with fear, for to be torn ofif would 
 be to lose its life; and now it v^/anted particularly to live, as 
 it was to be given with the piece of turf to the captive Lark. 
 
 "No, let it stay," said the other boy; "it makes such a 
 nice ornament." 
 
 And so it remained, and was put into the Lark's cage. 
 But the poor bird complained aloud of his lost liberty, and 
 beat his wings against the wires of his prison; and the little 
 Daisy could not speak — could say no consoling word to 
 him, gladly as it would have done so. And thus the whole 
 morning passed. 
 
 "Here is no water," said the captive Lark. "They are all 
 gone out, and have forgotten to give me anything to drink. 
 My throat is dry and burning. It is like fire and ice within 
 
88 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 me, and the air is close. Oh, I must die! I must leave the 
 warm sunshine, the fresh green, and all the splendor that 
 God has created!" 
 
 And then he thrust his beak into the cool turf to refresh 
 himself a little with it. Then the bird's eye fell upon the 
 Daisy, and he nodded to it, and kissed it with his beak, and 
 said: 
 
 "You also must wither in here, you poor little fellow. 
 They have given you to me with a little patch of green 
 grass on which you grow, instead of the whole world which 
 was mine out there! Every little blade of grass shall be a 
 great tree for me, and every one of your fragrant leaves a 
 great flower. Ah, you only tell m^e how much I have lost!" 
 
 "If I could only comfort him!" thought the little Daisy. 
 
 It could not stir a leaf; but the scent which streamed 
 forth from its delicate leaves was far stronger than is gen- 
 erally found in these flowers; the bird also noticed that, and 
 though he was fainting with thirst, and in his pain plucked 
 up the green blades of grass, he did not touch the flower. 
 
 The evening came, and yet nobody appeared to bring the 
 poor bird a drop of water. Then he stretched out his 
 pretty wings and beat the air frantically with them; his 
 song changed to a mournful piping, his little head sank 
 down toward the flower, and the bird's heart broke with 
 want and yearning. Then the flower could not fold its 
 leaves, as it had done on the previous evening, and sleep; 
 it drooped, sorrowful and sick, toward the earth. 
 
 Not till the next morning did the boys come; and when 
 they found the bird dead they wept — wept many tears — and 
 dug him a neat grave, which they adorned v/ith leaves of 
 flowers. The bird's corpse was put in a pretty red box, for 
 he was to be royally buried — the poor bird! While he was 
 alive and sang they forgot him, and let him sit in his cage 
 and suffer want; but now that he was dead he had adorn- 
 ment and many tears. 
 
 But the patch of turf with the Daisy on it was thrown out 
 into the high road; no one thought of the flower that had 
 felt the most for the little bird, and would have been so glad 
 to console him. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 89 
 
 A GREAT GRIEF. 
 
 This story really consists of two parts; the first part 
 might be left out, but it gives us a few particulars, and these 
 are useful. 
 
 We were staying in the country at a gentleman's seat, 
 where it happened that the master was absent for a few days. 
 In the meantime there arrived from the next town a lady; 
 she had a pug dog with her, and came, she said, to dis- 
 pose of shares in her tanyard. She had her papers with her, 
 and we advised her to put them in an envelope, and to write 
 thereon the address of the proprietor of the estate, "General 
 War-Commissary Knight," etc. 
 
 She listened to us attentively, seized the pen, paused, 
 and begged us to repeat the direction slowly. We complied, 
 and she wrote; but in the midst of the "General War 
 
 " she stuck fast, sighed deeply, and said, "I am 
 
 only a woman !" Her Puggie had seated itself on the ground 
 while she vv^rote, and growled; for the dog had come with 
 her for amusement and for the sake of its health; and then 
 the bare floor ought not to be offered to a visitor. His out- 
 ward appearance was characterized by a snub nose and a 
 very fat back. 
 
 "He doesn't bite,'' said the lady; "he has no teeth. He 
 is like one of the family, faithful and grumpy; but the lat- 
 ter is my grandchildren's fault, for they have teased him; 
 they play at wedding, and want to give him the part of the 
 bridesmaid, and that's too much for him, poor old fellow." 
 
 And she delivered her papers, and took Puggie upon her 
 arm. And this is the first part of the story, which might 
 have been left out. 
 
 Puggie died ! That's the second part. 
 
 It was about a week afterward we arrived in the town, 
 and put up at the inn. Our windows looked into the tan- 
 yard, which was divided into tv/o parts by a partition of 
 planks; in one-half v/ere many skins and hides, raw and 
 tanned. Here was all the apparatus necessary to carry on 
 a tannery, and it belonged to the widow. Puggie had died 
 in the morning, and was to be buried in this part of the 
 
90 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 yard; the grandchildren of the widow (that is, of the tan- 
 ner's widow, for Puggie himself had never been married) 
 filled up the grave, and it was a beautiful grave — it must 
 have been quite pleasant to lie there. 
 
 The grave was bordered with pieces of flower-pots and 
 strewn over with sand; quite at the top they had stuck up 
 half a beer bottle, with the neck upward, and that was not 
 at all allegorical. 
 
 The children danced round the grave, and the eldest of 
 the boys among them, a practical youngster of seven years, 
 made a proposition that there should be an exhibition of 
 Puggie's burial-place for all who lived in the lane ; the price 
 of admission was to be a trouser button, for every boy 
 would be sure to have one, and each might also give one 
 for a little girl. This proposal was adopted by acclamation. 
 
 And all the children out of the lane — yes, even out of the 
 little lane at the back — flocked to the place, and each gave 
 a button. Many were noticed to go about on that afternoon 
 with only one brace, but then they had seen Puggie's grave, 
 and the sight was worth much more. 
 
 But in front of the tanyard, close to the entrance, stood a 
 little girl clothed in rags, very pretty to look at, with curly 
 hair, and eyes so blue and clear that it was a pleasure to 
 look into them. The child said not a word, nor did she cry; 
 but each time the little door was opened she gave a long, 
 long look into the yard. She had not a button — that she 
 knew right well, and therefore she remained standing sor- 
 rowfully outside, till all the others had seen the grave and 
 had gone away; then she sat down, held her little brown 
 hands before her eyes and burst into tears; this girl alone 
 had not seen Puggie's grave. It was a grief as great to her 
 as any grown person can experience. 
 
 We saw this from above; and, looked at from above, how 
 many a grief of our own and of others can make us smile! 
 That is the story, and whoever does not understand it may 
 go and purchase a share in the tanyard from the widow. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. Si 
 
 THE SHIRT COLLAR. 
 
 There was once a rich cavaHer whose whole effects con- 
 sisted of a Bootjack and a Hairbrush, but he had the finest 
 'Shirt Collar in the world, and about this Shirt Collar we will 
 tell a story. 
 
 The Collar was now old enough to think of marrying, and 
 it happened that he v/as sent to the wash together with a 
 Garter. 
 
 "My word!" exclaimed the Shirt Collar. 'T have never 
 seen anything so slender and delicate, so charming and 
 genteel. May I ask your name?" 
 
 'T shall not tell you that," said the Garter. 
 
 "Where is your home?" asked the Shirt Collar. 
 
 But the Garter was of rather a retiring nature, and it 
 seemed such a strange question to answer. 
 
 "I presume you are a girdle?" said the Shirt Collar — "a 
 sort of under-girdle? I see that you are useful as well as 
 ornamental, my little lady." 
 
 "You are not to speak to me," said the Garter. "I have 
 not, I think, given you any occasion to do so." 
 
 "Oh ! when one is as beautiful as you are," cried the Shirt 
 Collar, "I fancy that is occasion enough." 
 
 "Go!" said the Garter; "don't come so near me, you look 
 to me quite like a man." 
 
 "I am a fine cavalier, too," said the Shirt Collar. "I pos- 
 sess a bootjack and a hairbrush." 
 
 And that was not true at all, for it was his master who 
 owned these things, but he was boasting. 
 
 "Don't come too near me," said the Garter; "I am not 
 used to that." 
 
 "Affectation!" cried the Shirt Collar. 
 
 And then they were taken out of the wash, and starched, 
 and hung over a chair in the sunshine, and then laid on 
 the ironing-board; and now came the hot Iron. 
 
 "Mrs. Widow!" said the Shirt Collar, "little Mrs. Widow, 
 I'm getting quite warm; I'm being quite changed; I'm 
 losing all my creases; you're burning a hole in me! Ugh! 
 I propose to you." 
 
92 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "You old rag!" said the Iron, and rode proudly over the 
 Shirt Collar, for it imagined that it was a steam boiler, and 
 that it ought to be out on the railway dragging carriages. 
 "You old rag!" said the Iron. 
 
 The Shirt Collar was a little frayed at the edges, there- 
 fore the Paper Scissors came to smooth away the frayed 
 places. 
 
 "Ho, ho!" said the Shirt Collar; "I presume you are a 
 first-rate dancer. How you can point your toes! no one in 
 the world can do that like you." 
 
 "I know that," said the Scissors. 
 
 "You deserve to be a countess," said the Shirt Collar. 
 "All that I possess consists of a genteel cavalier, a bootjack, 
 and a comb. If I had only an estate!" 
 
 "What! do you want to marry?" cried the Scissors; and 
 they were angry, and gave such a deep cut that the Collar 
 had to be cashiered. 
 
 "I shall have to propose to the Hairbrush," thought the 
 Shirt Collar. "It is wonderful what beautiful hair you have, 
 my little ladv. Have you never thought of engaging your- 
 self?" 
 
 "Yes; you can easily imagine that," replied the Hair- 
 brush. "I am engaged to the Bootjack." 
 
 "Engaged!" cried the Shirt Collar. 
 
 Now there was no one left to whom he could offer him- 
 self, and so he despised love-making. 
 
 A long time passed, and the Shirt Collar was put into the 
 sack of a paper dealer. There was a terribly ragged com- 
 pany, and the fine ones kept to themselves, and the coarse 
 ones to them.selves, as is right. They all had much to tell, 
 but the Shirt Collar had most of all, for he was a terrible 
 Jack Brag. 
 
 "I have had a tremendous number of love affairs," said 
 the Shirt Collar. "They would not leave me alone; but I 
 was a fine cavalier, a starched one. I had a bootjack and 
 a hairbrush that I never used; you should only have seen 
 me then, when I was turned down. I shall never forget my 
 first love; it was a girdle; and how delicate, how charming, 
 how genteel it was! And my first love threw herself into a 
 wash-tub, and all for me! There was also a widow des- 
 perately fond of me, but I let her stand alone till she turned 
 quite black. Then there was a dancer, who gave me the 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 93 
 
 wound from which I still suffer — she was very hot tempered. 
 My own hairbrush was in love with me, and lost all her hair 
 from neglected love. Yes, I've had many experiences of 
 this kind; but I am most sorry for the Garter — I mean for 
 the girdle, that jumped into the wash-tub for love of me. 
 I've a great deal on my conscience. It's time I was turned 
 into white paper." 
 
 And to that the Shirt Collar came. All the rags were 
 turned into white paper, but the Shirt Collar became the 
 very piece of paper we see here, and upon which this story 
 has been printed, and that was done because he boasted so 
 dreadfully about things that were not at all true. And this 
 we must remember, so that we may on no account do the 
 same, for we cannot know at all whether we shall not be 
 put into the rag bag and manufactured into white paper, 
 on which our whole histor}^, even the most secret, shall be 
 printed, so that we shall be obliged to run about and tell it, 
 as the Shirt Collar did. 
 
 OLE-LUK-OIE. 
 
 There's nobody in the whole world who knows so many 
 stories as Ole-Luk-Oie. He can tell capital histories. To- 
 ward evening, when the children still sit nicely at table, 
 or upon their stools, Ole-Luk-Oie comes. He comes up 
 the stairs quite softly, for he walks in his socks; he opens 
 the door noiselessly, and whisk! he squirts sweet miilk in 
 the children's eyes, a small, small stream, but enough to 
 prevent them from keeping their eyes open; and thus they 
 cannot see him. He creeps just among them, and blows 
 softly upon their necks, and this makes their heads heavy. 
 Yes, but it doesn't hurt them, for Ole-Luk-Oie is very fond 
 of the children; he only wants them to be quiet, and that 
 they are not until they are taken to bed; they are to be quiet 
 in order that he may tell them stories. 
 
 When the children sleep, Ole-Luk-Oie sits down upon 
 their bed. He is well dressed; his coat is of silk, but it is 
 impossible to say of what color, for it shines red, green, and 
 blue, according as he turns. Under each arm he carries 
 an umbrella; the one with pictures on it he spreads over 
 
94 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 the good children, and then they dream all night the most 
 glorious stories; but on his other umbrella nothing at all 
 is painted; this he spreads over the naughty children, and 
 these sleep in a dull way, and when they awake in the morn- 
 ing they have not dreamed of anything. 
 
 Now we shall hear how Ole-Luk-Oie, every evening 
 through one whole week, came to a little boy named Hjal- 
 mar, and what he told him. There are seven stories, for 
 there are seven days in the week. 
 
 MONDAY. 
 
 "Listen," said Ole-Luk-Oie in the evening, when he had 
 put Hjalmar to bed; "now I'll clear up." 
 
 And all the flowers in the flower-pots became great trees, 
 stretching out their long branches under the ceiling of the 
 room and along the walls, so that the whole room looked 
 just like a beauteous bower; and all the twigs w^ere cov- 
 ered with flowers, and each flower was more beautiful than 
 a rose, and smelt so sweet that one wanted to eat it — it was 
 sweeter than jam. The fruit gleamed like gold, and there 
 were cakes bursting with raisins. It was incomparably 
 beautiful. But at the same time a terrible wail sounded 
 from the table drawer, where Hjalmar s school-book lay. 
 
 "Whatever can that be?" said Ole-Luk-Oie; and he went 
 to the table, and opened the drawer. It v^^as the slate, which 
 was sulTering from convulsions, for a wrong number had 
 got into the sum, so that it was nearly falling in pieces ; the 
 slate pencil tugged and jumped at its string, as if it had been 
 a little dog who wanted to help the sum ; but he could not. 
 And thus there was great lamentation in Hjalmar's copy- 
 book; it was quite terrible to hear. On each page the great 
 letters stood in a row, one beneath the other, and each with 
 a little one at its side; that was the copy; and next to these 
 were a few more letters which thought they looked just like 
 the first; and these Hjalmar had written; but they lay 
 down just as if they had tumbled over the pencil-lines on 
 which they were to stand. 
 
 "See, this is how you should hold yourself," said the 
 Copy. "Look, sloping in this way, with a powerful swing!" 
 
 "Oh, we shall be very glad to do that," replied Hjalmar's 
 Letters, "but we cannot ; we are too weakly." 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 95 
 
 "Then you must take medicine," said Ole-Luk-Oie. 
 
 "Oh, no," cried they; and they immediately stood up so 
 gracefully that it was beautiful to behold. 
 
 "Yes, now we cannot tell any stories," said Ole-Luk-Oie; 
 "now I must exercise them. One, two! one, two!'' and 
 thus he exercised the Letters; and they stood quite slen- 
 der, and as beautiful as any copy can be. But when Ole- 
 Luk-Oie went away, and Hjalmar looked at them next 
 morning, they were as weak and miserable as ever. 
 
 TUESDAY. 
 
 As soon as Hjalmar was in bed, Ole-Luk-Oie touched all 
 the furniture in the bedroom with his little magic squirt, 
 and they immediately began to converse together, and each 
 one spoke of itself, with the exception of the spittoon, 
 which stood silent, and was vexed that they should be so 
 vain as to speak only of themselves, and think only of them- 
 selves, without any regard for him who stood so modesdy 
 in the corner for everyone's use. 
 
 Over the chest of drawers hung a great picture in a gilt 
 frame — it was a landscape. One saw therein large old trees, 
 flowers in the grass, and a broad river which flowed round 
 about a forest, past many castles, and far out into the wide 
 ocean. 
 
 Ole-Luk-Oie touched the painting with his magic squirt, 
 arid the birds in it began to sing, the branches of the trees 
 stirred, and the clouds began to move across it; one could 
 see their shadows ghde over the landscape. 
 
 Now Ole-Luk-Oie lifted little Hjalmar up to the frame, 
 and put the boy's feet into the picture, just in the high 
 grass; and there he stood; and the sun shone upon him 
 through the branches of the trees. He ran to the water, 
 and seated himself in a little boat which lay there; it was 
 painted red and white; the sails gleamed like silver, and six 
 swans, each with a gold circlet round its neck and a bright 
 blue star on its forehead, drew the boat past the great wood, 
 where the trees tell of robbers and witches, and the flowers 
 tell of the graceful little elves, and of what the butterflies 
 have told them. 
 
 Gorgeous fishes, with scales like silver and gold, swam 
 after their boat; sometimes they gave a spring, so that it 
 
96 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 splashed in the water; and birds, blue and red, little and 
 great, flew after them in two long rows; the gnats danced, 
 and the cockchafers said, "Boom! boom!" They all wanted 
 to follow Hjalmar, and each one had a story to tell. 
 
 That was a pleasure voyage. Sometimes the forest was 
 thick and dark, sometimes like a glorious garden full of 
 sunlight and flowers; and there were great palaces of glass 
 and of marble; on the balconies stood Princesses, and 
 these were all little girls whom Hjalmar knew well — he had 
 already played with them. Each one stretched forth her 
 hand, and held out the prettiest sugar heart which ever a 
 cake-woman could sell; and Hjalmar took hold of each 
 sugar heart as he passed by, and the Princess held fast, so 
 that each of them got a piece — she the smaller share, and 
 Hjalmar the larger. At each palace little Princes stood 
 sentry. They shouldered golden swords, and caused rais- 
 ins and tin soldiers to shower down; one could see that 
 they were real Princes. Sometimes Hjalmar sailed through 
 forests, sometimes through halls or through the midst of a 
 town. He also camiC to the town where his nurse lived, who 
 had always been so kind to him; and she nodded and 
 beckoned, and sang the pretty verse she had made herself 
 and had sent to Hjalmar: 
 
 "I've loved thee, and kissed thee, Hjalmar, dear boy; 
 I've watched thee waking and sleeping: 
 May the good Lord guard thee in sorrow, in joy, 
 And have thee in His keeping." 
 
 And all the birds sang too, the flowers danced on their 
 stalks, and the old trees nodded, just as if Ole-Luk-Oie had 
 been telling stories to them. 
 
 WEDNESDAY. 
 
 How the rain was streaming down without! Hjalmar 
 could hear it in his sleep ; and when Ole-Luk-Oie opened a 
 window, the water stood quite up to the window-sill ; there 
 was quite a lake outside, and a noble ship lay close by the 
 house. 
 
 'Tf thou wilt sail with me, little Hjalmar," said Ole-Luk- 
 Oie, "thou canst voyage to-night to foreign climes, and be 
 back again to-morrow." 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 97 
 
 And Hjalmar suddenly stood in his Sunday clothes upon 
 the glorious ship, and immediately the weather became fine, 
 and they sailed through the streets, and steered round by 
 the church; and now everything was one great, wild ocean. 
 They sailed on until the land was no longer to be seen, and 
 they saw a number of storks, who also came from their 
 home, and were traveling toward the hot countries; these 
 storks flew in a row, one behind the other, and they had 
 already flown far — far! One of them was so weary that 
 his wings would scarcely carry him farther; he was the 
 very last in the row, and soon remained a great way behind 
 the rest ; at last he sank, with out-spread wings, deeper and 
 deeper; he gave a few more strokes with his pinions, but 
 it was of no use; now he touched the rigging of the ship 
 with his feet, then he glided down from the sail, and — 
 bump! — he stood upon the deck. 
 
 Now the cabin-boy took him and put him into the hen- 
 coop with the Fowls, Ducks, and Turkeys; the poor Stork 
 stood among them quite embarrassed. 
 
 "Just look at the fellov/ !" said all the Fowls. 
 
 And the Turkey-cock swelled himself up as much as ever 
 he could, and asked the Stork who he was ; and the Ducks 
 walked backward and quacked to each other, "Quackery! 
 quackery!" 
 
 And the Stork told them of hot Africa, of the Pyramids, 
 and of the ostrich which runs like a wild horse through the 
 desert; but the ducks did not understand what he said, and 
 they said to one another: 
 
 "We're all of the same opinion, namely, that he's stupid.'' 
 
 "Yes, certainly he's stupid," said the Turkey-cock; and 
 he gobbled. 
 
 Then the Stork was quite silent, and thought of his 
 Africa. 
 
 "Those are wonderful thin legs of yours," said the Tur- 
 key-cock. "Pray, how much do tliey cost a yard?" 
 . "Quack! quack! qua-a-ck!" grinned all the Ducks; but 
 the Stork pretended not to hear it at all. 
 
 "You may just as well laugh, too," said the Turkey-cock 
 to him, "for that was very wittily said. Or was it, perhaps, 
 too high for you? Yes, yes, he isn't very penetrating. Let 
 us continue to be interesting among ourselves.'' 
 
 And then he gobbled, and the Ducks quacked, "Gick! 
 1 
 
98 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 gack! gick! gack!" It was terrible how they made fun 
 among themselves. 
 
 But Hjalmar went to the hen-coop, opened the back 
 door, and called to the Stork ; and the Stork hopped out to 
 him on to the deck. Now he was quite rested, and it seemed 
 as if he nodded at Hjalmar, to thank him. Then he spread 
 his wings, and flew away to the warm countries; but the 
 Fowls clucked, and the Ducks quacked, and the Turkey- 
 cock became fiery red in the face. 
 
 "To-morrow we shall make songs of you," said Hjalmar; 
 and so saying he awoke, and was lying in his linen bed. It 
 was a wonderful journey that Ole-Luk-Oie had caused him 
 to take that night. 
 
 THURSDAY. 
 
 "I tell you what," said Ole-Luk-Oie, "you must not be 
 frightened. Here you shall see a. little Mouse," and he held 
 out his hand with the pretty little creature in it. "It has 
 come to invite you to a wedding. There are two little Mice 
 here who are going to enter into the marriage state to-night. 
 They live under the floor of your mother's store-closet; that 
 is said to be a charming dwelling place!" 
 
 "But how can I get through the little mouse-hole in the 
 floor?" asked Hjalmar. 
 
 "Let me manage that,'' said Ole-Luk-Oie. "I will make 
 you small." 
 
 • And he touched Hjalmar with his magic squirt, and the 
 boy began to shrink and shrink and shrink, until he was not 
 so long as a finger. 
 
 "Now 3^ou may borrow the uniform of a tin soldier. I 
 think it would fit you, and it looks well to wear a uniform 
 when one is in society." 
 
 "Yes, certainly," said Hjalmar. 
 
 And in a moment he was dressed like the spiciest of tin 
 soldiers. 
 
 "Will your honor not be kind enough to take a seat in 
 your mamma's thimble?" asked the Mouse. "Then I shall 
 have the pleasure of drawing you." 
 
 "Will the young lady really take so much trouble?" cried 
 Hjalmar. 
 
 And thus thev drove to the Mouse's wedding. First thev 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 99 
 
 came into a long passage beneath the boards, which was 
 only just so high that they could drive through it in the 
 thimble, and the whole passage was lit up with rotten wood. 
 
 "Is there not a delicious smell here?'' observed the 
 Mouse. "The entire road has been greased with bacon- 
 rinds, and there can be nothing more exquisite." 
 
 Now they came into the festive hall. On the right hand 
 stood all the little lady mice; and they whispered and gig- 
 gled as if they were making fun of each other; on the left 
 stood all the gentlemen mice, stroking their whiskers with 
 their forepaws ; and in the center of the hall the bridegroom 
 and bride might be seen standing in a hollow cheese-rind, 
 and kissing each other terribly before all the guests; for 
 this was the betrothal, and the marriage was to follow im- 
 mediately. 
 
 More and more strangers kept flocking in. One mouse 
 was nearly treading another to death ; and the happy couple 
 ' had stationed themselves just in the little door-way, so 
 that one could neither come in nor go out. Like the 
 passage, the room had been greased with bacon-rinds, and 
 that was the entire banquet; but for the dessert a pea was 
 produced, in which a mouse belonging to the famil}^ had bit- 
 ten the name of the betrothed pair — that is to say, the first 
 letter of the name; that was something quite out of the 
 common way. 
 
 All the mice said it was a beautiful wedding, and that the 
 entertainment had been very agreeable. And then Hjalmar 
 drove home again; he had really been in grand company; 
 but he had been obliged to crawl through a mouse-hole, to 
 make himself little, and to put on a tin soldier's uniform. 
 
 FRIDAY. 
 
 "It is wonderful how many grown-up people there are 
 who would be very glad to have me!" said Ole-Luk-Oie; 
 "especially those who have done something wrong. 'Good 
 little Ole,' they say to me, 'we cannot close our eyes, and so 
 we lie all night and see our evil deeds, which sit upon the 
 bedstead like ugly little goblins, and throw hot water over 
 us; will you not come and drive them away, so that we 
 may have a good sleep?' — and then they sigh deeply — 'We 
 would really be glad to pay for it. Good-night, Ole; the 
 
100 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 money lies on the window-sill' But I do nothing for 
 money," says Ole-Luk-Oie. 
 
 "What shall we do this evening?" asked Hjalmar. 
 
 "I don't know if you care to go to another wedding to- 
 night. It is a different kind from that of yesterday. Your 
 sister's great doll, that looks like a man, and is called Her- 
 mann, is going to marry the doll Bertha. Moreover, it is 
 the doll's birthday, and therefore they will receive very many 
 presents." 
 
 ''Yes, I know that," replied Hjalmar. "Whenever the 
 dolls want new clothes, my sister lets them either keep their 
 birthday or celebrate a wedding; that has certainly hap- 
 pened a hundred times already." 
 
 "Yes, but to-night is the hundred and first wedding; and 
 when number one hundred and one is past, it is all over; 
 and that is why it will be so splendid. Only look!" 
 
 And Hjalmar looked at the table. There stood the little 
 cardboard house with the windows illuminated, and in 
 front of it all the tin soldiers were presenting arms. The 
 bride and bridegroom sat quite thoughtful, and with good 
 reason, on the floor, leaning against a leg of the table. And 
 Ole-Luk-Oie, dressed up in the grandmother's black gown, 
 married them to each other. When the ceremony was over, 
 all the pieces of furniture struck up the following beautiful 
 song, which the pencil had written for them. It was sung 
 to the melody of the soldiers' tattoo: 
 
 "Let the song swell like the rushing wind, 
 In honor of those who this day are joined, 
 Although they stand here so stiff and blind, 
 Because they are both of a leathery kind. 
 Hurrah! hurrah! though they're deaf and blind, 
 Let the song swell like the rushing wind." 
 
 And now they received presents — but they had declined 
 to accept provisions of any kind, for they intended to live on 
 love. 
 
 "Shall we now go into a big summer lodging, or start 
 on a journey?" asked the bridegroom. 
 
 And the Swallow, who was a great traveler, and the old 
 yard Hen, who had brought up five broods of chickens, 
 were consulted on the subject. And the Swallow told of the 
 beautiful warm climes, where the grapes hung in ripe. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 101 
 
 heavy clusters, where the air is mild, and the mountains 
 glow with colors unknown here. 
 
 "But you have not our brown cole there!" objected the 
 Hen. "I was once in the country, with my children, in one 
 summer that lasted five weeks. There was a sand pit, in 
 which we could walk about and scratch; and we had the 
 entree to a garden where brown cole grew; it was so hot 
 there that one could scarcely breathe. And then we have 
 not all the poisonous animals that infest these warm coun- 
 tries of yours, and we are free from robbers. He is a vil- 
 lain who does not consider our country the most beautiful — 
 he certainly does not deserve to be here!" And then the 
 Hen wept, and went on: "I have also traveled. I rode in 
 a coop about twelve miles; and there is no pleasure at all 
 in traveling!'' 
 
 "Yes, the Hen is a sensible woman!" said the doll 
 Bertha. 'T don't think anything of traveling among moun- 
 tains, for you only have to go up and then down again. No, 
 we will go into the sand-pit beyond the gate, and walk about 
 in the cabbage garden." 
 
 And so it was settled. 
 
 SATURDAY. 
 
 "Am I to hear some stories now?" asked little Hjalmar, 
 as soon as Ole-Luk-Oie had sent him to sleep. 
 
 "This evening we have no time for that," replied Ole- 
 Luk-Oie; and he spread his finest umbrella over the lad. 
 "Only look at these Chinamen!" 
 
 And the whole umbrella looked like a great China dish, 
 with blue trees and pointed bridges with little Chinamen 
 upon them, who stood there nodding their heads. 
 
 "We must have the whole world prettily decked out for 
 to-morrow morning," said Ole-Luk-Oie, "for that will be a 
 holiday — it will be Sunday. I will go to the church steeples 
 to see that the little church goblins are polishing the bells, 
 that they may sound sweetly. I will go out into the field, 
 and see if the breezes are blowing the dust from the grass 
 and leaves; and, what is the greatest work of all, I will 
 bring down all the stars, to polish them. I take them in my 
 apron; but first each one must be numbered, and the holes 
 in which they are to be placed up there must be numbered 
 
102 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 likewise, so that they may be placed in the same grooves 
 again; otherwise they would not sit fast, and we should 
 have too many shooting stars, for one after another would 
 fall down.'' 
 
 "Hark ye! Do you know, Mr. Ole-Luk-Oie," remarked 
 an old Portrait which hung upon the wall of the bedroom, 
 where Hjalmar slept. "I am Hjalmar's great-grandfather! 
 I thank you for telling the boy stories; but you must not 
 confuse his ideas. The stars cannot come down and be pol- 
 ished! The stars are world-orbs, just like our own earth, and 
 that is just the good thing about them." 
 
 "I thank you, old great-grandfather," said Ole-Luk-Oie, 
 "I thank you ! You are the head of the family ; you are the 
 ancestral head. But I am older than you! I am an old 
 heathen; the Romans and Greeks called me the Dream 
 God. I have been in the noblest houses, and am admitted 
 there still! I know how to act with great people and with 
 small ! Now you may tell your own story !" And Ole-Luk- 
 Oie took his umbrella, and went away. 
 
 "Well, well! May one not even give an opinion now- 
 adays?" grumbled the old Portrait. And Hjalmar awoke. 
 
 SUNDAY. 
 
 "Good-evening!" said Ole-Luk-Oie; and Hjalmar nod- 
 ded, and then ran and turned his great-grandfather's Por- 
 trait against the wall, that it might not interrupt them, as it 
 had done yesterday. 
 
 "Now you must tell me stories — about the five green peas 
 that lived in one shell, and about the cock's foot that paid 
 court to the hen's foot, and of the darning-needle who gave 
 herself such airs because she thought herself a working- 
 needle." 
 
 "There may be too much of a good thing!" said Ole-Luk- 
 Oie. "You know that I prefer showing you something. I 
 will show you my own brother. His name, like mine, is 
 Ole-Luk-Oie, but he never comes to anyone more than 
 once; and he takes him to whom he comes upon his horse, 
 and tells him stories. He only knows two. One of these 
 is so exceedingly beautiful that no one in the world can im- 
 agine it, and the other so horrible and dreadful that it cannot 
 be described." 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 103 
 
 And then Ole-Liik-Oie lifted little Hjalmar up to the win- 
 dow, and said: 
 
 "There you will see my brother, the other Ole-Luk-Oie. 
 They also call him Death! Do you see? He does not look 
 so terrible as they make him in the picture-books, where 
 he is only a skeleton. No, that is silver embroidery that he 
 has on his coat; that is a splendid hussar's uniform; a 
 mantle of black velvet flies behind him over the horse. 
 See how he gallops along!"' 
 
 And Hjalmar saw how this Ole-Luk-Oie rode away, and 
 took young people as well as old upon his horse. Some of 
 'them he put before him, and some behind; but he always 
 asked first — "How stands it with the mark-book?" "Well," 
 they all replied. "Yes, let me see it myself,'' he said. And 
 then each one had to show him the book; and those who 
 had "very well" and "remarkably well" written in their 
 books, were placed in front of his horse, and a lovely story 
 was told to them; while those who had "middling" or "tol- 
 erably well," had to sit up behind, and hear a very terrible 
 story indeed. They trembled and wept, and wanted to jump 
 off the horse, but this they could not do, for they had all, 
 as it were, grown fast to it. 
 
 "But Death is a most splendid Ole-Luk-Oie," said Hjal- 
 mar. "I am not afraid of him!" 
 
 "Nor need you be," replied Ole-Luk-Oie; "but see that 
 you have a good mark-book!" 
 
 "Yes, that is improving!" muttered the great-grand- 
 father's Picture. 'Tt is of some use giving one's opinion." 
 And now he was satisfied. 
 
 You see, that is the story of Ole-Luk-Oie; and now he 
 may tell you more himself, this evening! 
 
 THE BEETLE. 
 
 The Emperor's favorite horse was shod with gold. It had 
 a golden shoe on each of its feet. 
 
 And why was this? 
 
 He was a beautiful creature, with delicate legs, bright, in- 
 telligent eyes, and a mane that hung down over his neck 
 like a veil. He had carried his master through the fire and 
 
104 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 smoke of battle, and heard the bullets whistling around 
 him, had kicked, bitten, and taken part in the fight when 
 the enemy advanced, and had sprung with his master on his 
 back over the fallen foe, and had saved the crown of red 
 gold, and the life of the Emperor, which was even more val- 
 uable than the red gold; and that is why the Emperor's 
 horse had golden shoes. 
 
 And a Beetle came creeping forth. 
 
 "First the great ones," said he, "and then the little ones ; 
 but greatness is not the only thing that does it." And so 
 saying, he stretched out his thin legs. 
 
 "And pray what do you want?" asked the smith. 
 
 "Golden shoes, to be sure," replied the Beetle. 
 
 "Why, you must be out of your senses!" cried the smith. 
 "Do you want to have golden shoes, too?" 
 
 "Golden shoes? Certainly," replied the Beetle. "Am I 
 not just as good as that big creature yonder, that is waited 
 on, and brushed, and has meat and drink put before him? 
 Don't I belong to the imperial stable?" 
 
 "But why is the horse to have golden shoes? Don't you 
 understand that?" asked the smith. 
 
 "Understand? I understand that it is a personal slight 
 offered to m.yself," cried the Beetle. "It is done to annoy 
 me, and therefore I am going into the world to seek my 
 fortune." 
 
 "Go along!" said the smith. 
 
 "You're a rude fellow!" cried the Beetle; and then he 
 went out of the stable, flew a little way, and soon afterward 
 found himself in a beautiful flower garden, all fragrant with 
 roses and lavender. 
 
 "Is it not beautiful here?" asked one of the little Ladv- 
 Birds that flew about, with their delicate wings and their 
 red and black shields on their backs. "How sweet it is 
 here — hovv^ beautiful it is !" 
 
 "I'm accustomed to better things," said the Beetle. "Do 
 you call this beautiful? Why, there is not so much as a 
 dung-heap.'' 
 
 Then he went on, under the shadow of a great stack, and 
 found a Caterpillar crawling along. 
 
 "How beautiful the world is!" said the Caterpillar; "the 
 sun is so warm, and everything so enjoyable! And when I 
 go to sleep, and die, as they call it, I shall wake up as a 
 butterfly, with beautiful wings to fly with." 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 105 
 
 ■'How conceited you are!" exclaimed the Beetle. "You 
 fly about as a butterfly, indeed! I've come out of the stable 
 of the Emperor, and no one there — not even the Emperor's 
 favorite horse, that, by the way, wears my cast-off golden 
 shoes — has any such idea. To have wings to fly! Why, we 
 can fly now." And he spread his wings and flew away. "I 
 don't want to be annoyed, and yet I am annoyed," he said, 
 as he flew ofif. 
 
 Soon afterward he fell down upon a great lawn. For 
 awhile he lay there and feigned slumber; at last he really fell 
 asleep in earnest. 
 
 Suddenly a heavy shower of rain came falling from the 
 clouds. The Beetle woke up at the noise, and wanted to 
 escape into the earth, but could not. He was tumbled over 
 and over; sometimes he was swimming on his stomach, 
 sometimes on his back, and as for flying, that was out of the 
 question; he doubted whether he should escape from the 
 place with his life. He therefore remained lying where he 
 was. 
 
 When the weather had moderated a little, and the Beetle 
 had rubbed the water out of his eyes, he saw something 
 gleaming. It was linen that had been placed there to 
 bleach. He managed to make his way up to it, and crept 
 into a fold of the damp linen. Certainly the place was not 
 so comfortable to lie in as the warm stable ; but there was 
 no better to be had, and therefore he remained lying there 
 for a whole day and a whole night, and the rain kept on 
 during all the time. Toward morning he crept forth; he 
 was very much out of temper about the climate. 
 
 On the linen two Frogs were sitting. Their bright eyes 
 absolutely gleamed with pleasure. 
 
 "Wonderful weather this!" one of them cried. "How 
 refreshing! And the linen keeps the water together so 
 beautifully. My hind legs seem to quiver as if I were going 
 to swim.'' 
 
 "I should like to know," said the second, "if the swallow, 
 who flies so far round, in her many journeys in foreign 
 lands, ever meets with a better climate than this. What de- 
 licious dampness! It is really as if one were lying in a wet 
 ditch. Whoever does not rejoice in this, certainly does not 
 love his fatherland." 
 
 "Have you been in the Emperor's stable?" asked the 
 
106 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 Beetle; "there the dampness is warm and refreshing. 
 That's the chmate for me; but I cannot take it with me on 
 my journey. Is there never a muck-heap, here in the gar- 
 den, where a person of rank, like myself, can feel himself 
 at home, and take up his quarters?" 
 
 But the Frogs either did not or would not understand 
 him. 
 
 "I never ask a question twice!" said the Beetle, after he 
 had already asked this one three times without receiving 
 any answer. 
 
 Then he went a little farther, and stumbled against a 
 fragment of pottery, that certainly ought not to have been 
 lying there ; but as it was once there, it gave a good shelter 
 against wind and weather. Here dwelt several families of 
 Earwigs; and these did not require much, only sociality. 
 The female members of the community were full of the pur- 
 est maternal aiTection, and, accordingly, each one consid- 
 ered her own child the most beautiful and cleverest of all. 
 
 "Our son has engaged himself," said one mother. "Dear, 
 innocent boy! His greatest hope is that he may creep one 
 day into a clergyman's ear. It's very artless and lovable, 
 that; and being engaged will keep him steady. What joy 
 for a mother!" 
 
 "Our son," said another mother, "had scarcely crept out 
 of the egg, when he was alread)^ ofif on his travels. He's all 
 life and spirits; he'll run his horns oIt! What joy that is 
 for a mother! Is it not so, Mr. Beetle?'' for she knew the 
 stranger by his horny coat. 
 
 "You are both quite right," said he; so they begged him 
 to walk in; that is to say, to come as far as he could under 
 the bit of pottery. 
 
 "Now you also see my little earwig," observed a third 
 mother and a fourth; "they are lovely little things, and 
 highl}^ amusing. They are never ill-behaved, except when 
 they are uncomfortable in their inside; but, unfortunately, 
 one is very subject to that at their age." 
 
 Thus each mother spoke of her baby; and the babies 
 talked among themselves, and made use of the little nippers 
 they have in their tails to nip the beard of the Beetle. 
 
 "Yes, they are always busy about something, the little 
 rogues!" said the mothers; and they quite beamed with 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 107 
 
 maternal .pride; but the Beetle felt bored by that, and there- 
 fore he inquired how far it was to the nearest muck-heap. 
 
 "That is quite out in the big world, on the other side of 
 the ditch," answered an Earwig. "I hope none of my chil- 
 dren will go so far, for it would be the death of me." 
 
 "But I shall try to get so far," said the Beetle; and he 
 went off without taking formal leave; for that is considered 
 the polite thing to do. And by the ditch he met several 
 friends; Beetles, all of them. 
 
 "Here we live," they said. "We are very comfortable 
 here. Might we ask you to step down into this rich mud? 
 You must be fatigued after your journey." 
 
 "Certainly," replied the Beetle. "I have been exposed 
 to the rain, and have had to lie upon linen, and cleanliness 
 is a thing that greatly exhavists me. I have also pains in 
 one of my wings, from standing in a draught under a frag- 
 ment of pottery. It is really quite refreshing to be among 
 one's companions once more." 
 
 "Perhaps you come from a muck-heap?" observed the 
 oldest of them. 
 
 "Indeed, I come from a much higher place," replied the 
 Beetle. "I come from the Emperor's stable, where I was 
 born with golden shoes on my feet. I am traveling on a 
 secret embassy. You must not ask me any questions, for I 
 can't betray my secret." 
 
 With this the little Beetle stepped down into the rich 
 mud. There sat three young maiden Beetles; and they tit- 
 tered, because they did not know what to say. 
 
 "Not one of them is engaged yet," said their mother; and 
 the Beetle maidens tittered again, this time from embarrass- 
 ment. 
 
 "I have never seen greater beauties in the royal stables," 
 exclaimed the Beetle, who was now resting himself. 
 
 "Don't spoil my girls," said the mother; "and don't talk 
 to them, please, unless you have serious intentions. But of 
 course your intentions are serious, and therefore I give you 
 my blessing." 
 
 "Hurrah!'' cried all the other Beetles together; and our 
 friend was engaged. Immediately after the betrothal came 
 the marriage, for there was no reason for delay. 
 
 The following day passed very pleasantly, and the next in 
 
108 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALEiS. 
 
 tolerable comfort; but on the third it was time to think of 
 food for the wife, and perhaps also for children. 
 
 "I have allowed myself to be taken in," said our Beetle to 
 himself. "And now there's nothing for it but to take them 
 in, in turn." 
 
 So said, so done. Away he went, and he stayed away all 
 day, and stayed away all night; and his wife sat there, a for- 
 saken widow. 
 
 "Oh," said the other Beetles, "this fellow whom we re- 
 ceived into our family is nothing more than a thorough 
 vagabond. He is gone away, and has left his wife a burden 
 upon our hands." 
 
 "Well, then, she shall be unmarried again, and sit here 
 among my daughters," said the mother. "Fie on the villain 
 who forsook her!" 
 
 In the meantime the Beetle had been journeying on, and 
 had sailed across the ditch on a cabbage-leaf. In the morn- 
 ing two persons came to the ditch. When they saw him, 
 they took him up, and turned him over and over, and 
 looked ver}^ learned, especially one of them — a boy. 
 
 "Allah sees the black beetle in the black stone and in the 
 black rock. Is not that written in the Koran?'' Then he 
 translated the Beetle's name into Latin, and enlarged upon 
 the creature's nature and history. The second person, an 
 older scholar, voted for carrying him home. He said they 
 wanted just such good specimens; and this seemed an im- 
 civil speech to our Beetle, and in consequence he flew sud- 
 denly out of the speaker's hand. As he had now dry wings, 
 he flew a tolerable distance, and reached a hotbed, where a 
 sash of the glass roof was partly open, so he quietly slipped 
 in and buried himself in the warm earth. 
 
 "Very comfortable it is here," said he. 
 
 Soon after he went to sleep, and dreamed that the Em- 
 peror's favorite horse had fallen, and had given him his 
 golden shoes, with the promise that he should have two 
 more. 
 
 That was all very charming. When the Beetle woke up, 
 he crept forth and looked around him. What splendor was 
 in the hothouse! In the background great palm trees grow- 
 ing up on high; the sun m.ade them look transparent; and 
 beneath them what a luxuriance of green, and of beaming 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES, 109 
 
 flowers, red as fire, yellow as amber, or white as fresh- 
 fallen snow! 
 
 "This is an incomparable plenty of plants," cried the 
 Beetle. "How good they will taste when they are decayed! 
 A capital storeroom this ! There must certainly be relations 
 of mine living here. I will just see if I can find anyone 
 with whom I may associate. I'm proud, certainly, and I'm 
 proud of being so." 
 
 And so he prowled about in the earth, and thought what a 
 pleasant dream that was about the dying horse, and the 
 golden shoes he had inherited. 
 
 Suddenly a hand seized the Beetle, and pressed him, and 
 turned him round and round. 
 
 The gardener's little son and a companion had come to 
 the hotbed, and espied the Beetle, and wanted to have their 
 fun with him. First he was wrapped in a vine-leaf, and 
 then put into a warm trousers pocket. He cribbled and 
 Grabbled about there with all his might; but he got a good 
 pressing from the boy's hand for this, which served as a 
 hint to him to keep quiet. Then the boy went rapidly to- 
 ward the great lake that lay at the end of the garden. Here 
 the Beetle was put in an old broken wooden shoe, on which 
 a little stick was placed upright for a mast, and to this mast 
 the Beetle was bound with a v\^oolen thread. Now he was a 
 sailor, and had to sail away. 
 
 The lake was not very large, but to the Beetle it seemed 
 an ocean ; and he was so astonished at its extent, that he fell 
 over on his back and kicked out with his legs. 
 
 The little ship sailed away. The current of the water 
 seized it; but whenever he went too far from the shore, 
 one of the boys turned up his trousers and went in after it, 
 and brought it back to the land. But at length, just as it 
 went merrily out again, the two boys were called away, and 
 very harshly, so that they hurried to obey the summons, 
 ran away from the lake, and left the little ship to its fate. 
 Thus it drove away from the shore, farther and farther into 
 the open sea; it was terrible work for the Beetle, for he 
 could not get away in consequence of being bound to the 
 mast. 
 
 Then a Fly came and paid him a visit. 
 
 "What beautiful weather!" said the Fly. "I'll rest here, 
 and sun myself. You have an agreeable time of it." 
 
110 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "You speak without knowing the facts," repHed the 
 Beetle. "Don't you see that I'm a prisoner?" 
 
 "Ah! but I'm not a prisoner," observed the Fly; and he 
 flew away accordingly. 
 
 "Well, now I know the world," said the Beetle to him- 
 self. "It is an abominable world. I'm the only honest per- 
 son in it. First, they refuse me my golden shoes; then I 
 have to lie on v/et linen, and to stand in the draught; and, 
 to crown all, they fasten a wife upon me. Then, when I've 
 taken a quick step out into the world, and found out how 
 one can have it there, and how I wished to have it, one of 
 those human boys comes and ties me up, and leaves me to 
 the mercy of the wild waves, while the Emperor's horse 
 prances about proudly in golden shoes. That is what an- 
 noys me more than all. But one must not look for sympa- 
 thy in this world! My career has been very interesting; but 
 what's the use of that, if nobody knows it? The world does 
 not deserve to be made acquainted with my history, for it 
 ought to have given me golden shoes, when the Emperor's 
 horse was shod, and I stretched out my feet to be shod, too. 
 If I had received golden shoes, I should have been an 
 ornament to the stable. Now the stable has lost me, and 
 the world has lost me. It is all over!" 
 
 But all was not over yet. A boat, in which there were a 
 few young girls, came rowing up. 
 
 "Look, yonder is an old wooden shoe sailing along," 
 said one of the girls. 
 
 "There's a little creature bound fast to it," said another. 
 
 The boat came quite close to the Beetle's ship, and the 
 young girls fished him out of the water. One of them drew 
 a small pair of scissors from her pocket, and cut the woolen 
 thread, without hurting the Beetle; and when she stepped 
 on shore, she put him down on the grass. 
 
 "Creep, creep — y, fly — if thou canst," she said. "Liberty 
 is a splendid thing." 
 
 And the Beetle flew up, and straight through the open 
 window of a great building; there he sank down, tired and 
 exhausted, exactly on the mane of the Emperor's favorite 
 horse, who stood in the stable when he was at home, and 
 the Beetle also. The Beetle clung fast to the mane, and sat 
 there a short time to recover himself. 
 
 "Here I'm sitting on the Emperor's favorite horse — sit- 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. Ill 
 
 ting on him just like the Emperor himself!" he cried. "But 
 what was I saying? Yes, now I remember. That's a good 
 thought, and quite correct. The smith asked me why the 
 golden shoes were given to the horse. Now I'm quite clear 
 about the answer. They were given to the horse on my ac- 
 count." 
 
 And now the Beetle was in a good temper again. 
 
 "Traveling expands the mind rarely," said he. 
 
 The sun's rays came streaming into the stable, and shone 
 upon him, and made the place lively and bright. 
 
 "The world is not so bad upon the whole," said the 
 Beetle; "but one must know how to take things as they 
 come." 
 
 WHAT THE OLD MAN DOES IS ALWAYS RIGHT. 
 
 I will tell you the story which was told to me when I was 
 a little boy. Every time I thought of the story, it seemed to 
 me to become more and more charming; for it is with 
 stories as it is with many people — they become better as 
 they grow older. 
 
 I take it for granted that you have been in the country, 
 and seen a very old farmhouse with a thatched roof, and 
 mosses and small plants growing wild upon the thatch. 
 There is a stork's nest on the summit of the gable; for we 
 can't do without the stork. The walls of the house are 
 sloping, and the windows are low, and only one of the latter 
 is made so that it will open. The baking-oven sticks out 
 of the wall like a little fat body. The elder tree hangs over 
 the paling, and beneath its branches, at the foot of the pal- 
 ing, is a pool of water in which a few ducks are disporting 
 themselves. There is a yard dog, too, who barks at all 
 comers. 
 
 Just such a farmhouse stood out in the country; and in 
 this house dwelt an old couple — a peasant and his wife. 
 Small as was their property, there was one article among it 
 that they could do without — a horse, which made a living 
 out of the grass it found by the side of the high road. The 
 old peasant rode into the town on this horse; and often his 
 neighbors borrowed it of him, and rendered the old couple 
 some service in return for the loan of it. But they thought 
 
112 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 it would be best if they sold the horse, or exchanged it for 
 something that might be more useful to them. But what 
 might this something be? 
 
 "You'll know that best, old man," said the wife. "It is 
 fair day to-day, so ride into town, and get rid of the horse 
 for money, or make a good exchange; whichever you do 
 will be right to me. Ride off to the fair." 
 
 And she fastened his neckerchief for him, for she could 
 do that better than he could; and she tied it in a double 
 bow, for she could do that very prettily. Then she brushed 
 his hat round and round with the palm of her hand, and 
 gave him a kiss. So he rode away upon the horse that was 
 to be sold or to be bartered for something else. Yes, the 
 old man knew what he was about. 
 
 The sun shone hotly down, and not a cloud was to be 
 seen in the sky. The road was very dusty, for many people, 
 who were all bound for the fair, were driving or riding, or 
 walking upon it. There was no shelter anywhere from the 
 sunbeams. 
 
 Among the rest, a man was trudging along, and driving a 
 cow to the fair. The cow was as beautiful a creature as any 
 cow can be. 
 
 "She gives good milk, I'm sure," said the peasant. "That 
 would be a very good exchange — the cow for the horse." 
 
 "Hallo, you there with the cow!" he said; "I tell you 
 what — I fancy a horse costs more than a cow, but I don't 
 care for that; a cow would be more useful to me. If you 
 like, we'll exchange." 
 
 "To be sure I will," returned the man; and they ex- 
 changed accordingly. 
 
 So that was settled, and the peasant might have turned 
 back, for he had done the business he came to do ; but as he 
 had once made up his mind to go to the fair, he determined 
 to proceed, merely to have a look at it; and so he went on 
 to the town with his cov/. 
 
 Leading the animal, he strode sturdily on; and after a 
 short time, he overtook a man who was driving a sheep. It 
 was a good fat sheep, with a fine fleece on its back. 
 
 "I should like to have that fellow," said our peasant to 
 himself. "He would find plenty of grass by our palings, 
 and in the winter we could keep him in the room with us. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 113 
 
 Perhaps it would be more practical to have a sheep instead 
 of a cow. Shall we exchange?" 
 
 The man with the sheep was quite ready, and the bar- 
 gain was struck. So our peasant went on in the high road 
 with his sheep. 
 
 Soon he overtook another man, who came into the road 
 from a field, carrying a great goose under his arm. 
 
 "That's a heavy thing you have there. It has plenty of 
 feathers and plenty of fat, and would look well tied to a 
 string, and paddling in the water at our place. That would 
 be something for my old woman; she could make all kinds 
 of profit out of it. How often she has said, 'If we only had 
 a goose!' Now, perhaps, she can have one; and, if possible, 
 it shall be hers. Shall we exchange? I'll give you my sheep 
 for your goose, and thank you into the bargain." 
 
 The other man had not the least objection; and accord- 
 ingly they exchanged, and our peasant became proprietor 
 of the goose. 
 
 By this time he was very near the town. Tlie crowd on 
 the high road became greater and greater; there was quite 
 a crush of men and cattle. They walked in the road, and 
 close by the paling; and at the barrier they even walked 
 into the tollman's potato field, where his own fowl was 
 strutting about with a string to its legs, lest it should take 
 fright at the crowd, and stray away, and so be lost. This 
 fowl had short tail-feathers, and winked with both its eyes, 
 and looked very cunning. "Cluck, cluck!" said the fowl. 
 What it thought when it said this I cannot tell you; but 
 directly our good man saw it, he thought, "That's the finest 
 fowl I've ever seen in my life ! Why, it's finer than our par- 
 son's brood hen. On my word, I should like to have that 
 fowl. A fowl can always find a grain or two, and can almost 
 keep itself. I think it would be a good exchange if I could 
 get that for my goose. Shall we exchange?" he asked the 
 toll-taker. 
 
 "Exchange!'' repeated the man; "well, that would not 
 be a bad thing." 
 
 And so they exchanged; the toll-taker at the barrier kept 
 the goose, and the peasant carried away the fowl. 
 
 Now, he had done a good deal of business on his way to 
 the fair, and he was hot and tired. He wanted something to 
 eat, and a glass of brandy to drink ; and soon he was in front 
 I 
 
114 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 of the inn. He was just about to step in, when the hostler 
 came out; so they met at the door. The hostler was carry- 
 ing a sack. 
 
 "What have you in that sack?" asked the peasant. 
 "Rotten apples," answered the hostler; "a whole sackful 
 of them — enough to feed the pigs with." 
 
 "Why, that's terrible waste! I should like to take them 
 to my old woman at home. Last year the old tree by the 
 turf-hole only bore a single apple, and we kept it in the cup- 
 board till it was quite rotten and spoiled. 'It was always 
 property,' my old woman said; but here she could see a 
 quantity of property — a whole sackful. Yes, I shall be glad 
 to show them to her." 
 
 "What will you give me for the sackful?" asked the 
 hostler. 
 
 "What will I give? I will give my fowl in exchange." 
 
 And he gave the fowl accordingly, and received the ap- 
 ples, which he carried into the guest-room. He leaned the 
 sack carefully by the stove, and then went to the table. But 
 the stove was hot; he had not thought of that. Many 
 guests were present — horse dealers, ox-herds, and two Eng- 
 lishmen — and the two Englishmen were so rich that their 
 pockets bulged out with gold coins, and almost burst; and 
 they could bet, too, as you shall hear. 
 
 Hiss-s-s! hiss-s-s! What was that by the stove? The 
 apples were beginning to roast. 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "Why, do you know '' said our peasant. 
 
 And he told the whole story of the horse that he had ex- 
 changed for a cow, and all the rest of it down to the ap- 
 ples. 
 
 "Well, your old woman will give it you well when you 
 get home," said one of the Englishmen. "There will be a 
 disturbance." 
 
 "WHiat? — give me what?" said the peasant. "She will 
 kiss me, and say, 'What the old man does is always right.' " 
 
 "Shall we wager?" said the Englishman. "We'll wager 
 coined gold by the ton — a hundred pounds to the hundred- 
 weight !" 
 
 "A bushel will be enough,'' replied the peasant. "I can 
 only set the bushel of apples against it; and I'll throw my- 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 115 
 
 self and my old woman into the bargain — and I fancy that's 
 piling up the measure !" 
 
 "Done — taken!" 
 
 And the bet was made. The host's carriage came up, and 
 the Englishmen got in, and the peasant got in; away they 
 went, and soon they stopped before the peasant's hut, 
 
 "Good-evening, old woman." 
 
 "Good-evening, old man." 
 
 "I've made exchange." 
 
 "Yes, you understand what you're about," said the wo- 
 man. 
 
 And she embraced him and paid no attention to the 
 stranger guests, nor did she notice the sack. 
 
 "I got a cow in exchange for the horse,'' said he. 
 
 "Heaven be thanked!" said she. "What glorious milk 
 we shall now have, and butter and cheese upon the table! 
 That was a most capital exchange!" 
 
 "Yes, but I changed the cow for a sheep." 
 
 "Ah, that's better still!" cried the wife. "You aUvays 
 think of everything; we have just pasture enough for a 
 sheep. Ewe's milk and cheese, and woolen jackets and 
 stockings! The cow cannot give those, and her hairs will 
 only come off. How you think of everything!" 
 
 "But I changed away the sheep for a goose." 
 
 "Then this year we shall really have roast goose to eat, 
 my dear old mian. You are always thinking of something 
 to give me pleasure. How charming that is! We can let 
 the goose walk about with a string to her leg, and she'll 
 grow fatter still before we roast her." 
 
 "But I gave away the goose for a fowl," said the man. 
 
 "A fowl? That was a good exchange!" replied the wo- 
 man. "The fowl will lay eggs and hatch them, and we shall 
 soon have chickens; we shall have a whole poultry yard! Oh, 
 that's just what I was wishing for." 
 
 "Yes, but I exchanged the fowl for a sack of shriveled 
 apples." 
 
 "What! — I must positively kiss you for that," exclaimed 
 the wife. "My dear, good husband! Now I'll tell you 
 something. Do you know, you had hardly left me this 
 morning before I began thinking how I could give you 
 something very nice this evening. I thought it should be 
 pancakes with savory herbs. I had eggs, and bacon, too; 
 
116 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 but I wanted herbs. So I went over to the schoolmaster's — 
 they have herbs there, I know — but the schoolmistress is a 
 mean woman, though she looks so sweet. I begged her to 
 lend me a handful of herbs. 'Lend!' she answered me; 
 'nothing at all grows in our garden, not even a shriveled ap- 
 ple. I could not even lend you a shriveled apple, my dear 
 woman.' But now I can lend her twenty, or a whole sack- 
 ful. That I'm very glad of; that makes me laugh!" And 
 with that she gave him a sounding kiss. 
 
 "I like that!" exclaimed both the Englishmen together. 
 "Always going down-hill, and always merry; that's worth 
 the money." 
 
 So they paid a hundredweight of gold to the peasant, who 
 was not scolded, but kissed. 
 
 Yes, it always pays, when the wife sees and always as- 
 serts that her husband knows best, and that whatever he 
 does is right. 
 
 You see, that is my story. I heard it when I was a child; 
 and now you have heard it, too, and know that "What the 
 old man does is always right." 
 
 GOOD HUMOR. 
 
 My father left me the best inheritance, to wit — good 
 humor. And who was my father? Why, that has noth- 
 ing to do with the humor. He was lively and stout, round 
 and fat; and his outer and inner man was in direct contra- 
 diction to his calling. And pray what was he by profession 
 and calling in civil society? Yes, if this were to be written 
 down and printed in the very beginning of a book, it is 
 probable that many when they read it would lay the book 
 aside and say, "It looks so uncomfortable; I don't like any- 
 thing of that sort." And yet my father was neither a horse 
 slaughterer nor an executioner; on the contrary, his office 
 placed him at the head of the most respectable gentry of the 
 town; and he held his place by right, for it was his right 
 place. He had to go first before the bishop even, and be- 
 fore the Princess of the Blood. He always went first — for 
 he was the driver of the hearse. 
 
 There, now it's out! And I will confess that when people 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 117 
 
 saw my father sitting perched up on the omnibus of death, 
 dressed in his long, wide, black coat, and with his black- 
 bordered, three-cornered hat on his head — and then his face, 
 exactly as the sun is drawn, round and jocund — it was diffi- 
 cult for them to think of the grave and of sorrow. The face 
 said, "It doesn't matter; it doesn't matter; it will be better 
 than one thinks." 
 
 You see I have inherited my good-humor from him, and 
 also the habit of going often to the churchyard, which is a 
 good thing to do if it be done in the right spirit; and then I 
 take in the Intelligencer, just as he used to do. 
 
 I am not quite young. I have neither wife, nor children, 
 nor a library; but, as aforesaid, I take in the Intelligencer, 
 and that's my favorite newspaper, as it was also my father's. 
 It is very useful, and contains everything that a man needs to 
 know — such as who preaches in the church and the new 
 books. And then what a lot of charity, and what a number 
 of innocent, harmless verses are found in it! Advertise- 
 ments for husbands and wives, and requests for interviews — • 
 all quite simple and natural. Certainly, one may live mer- 
 rily and be contentedly buried if one takes in the Intelli- 
 gencer. And as a concluding advantage, by the end of his 
 life a man will have such a capital store of paper, that he 
 may use it as a soft bed, unless he prefers to rest upon wood 
 shavings. 
 
 The newspaper and m.y walk to the churchyard were al- 
 ways my most exciting occupations — they were like bathing 
 places for my good humor. 
 
 The newspaper everyone can read for himself. But please 
 come with me to the churchyard ; let us wander there, where 
 the sun shines and the trees grow green. Each of the nar- 
 row houses is like a closed book, with the back placed up- 
 permost, so that one can only read the title and judge what 
 the book contains, but can tell nothing about it; but I know 
 something about them. I heard it from my father, or found 
 it out myself. I have it all down in my record that I wrote 
 out for my own use and pleasure ; all that lie here, and a few 
 more, too, are chronicled in it. 
 
 Now we are in the churchyard. 
 
 Here, behind the white railing, where once a rose tree 
 grew — it is gone now, but a little evergreen from the next 
 grave stretches out its green fingers to make a show — there 
 
118 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES, 
 
 rests a very unhappy man; and yet, when he Hvecl, he was in 
 what they cah a good position. He had enough to live 
 upon, and something over; but worldly cares, or, to speak 
 more correctly, his great artistic taste, weighed heavily upon 
 him. If in the evening he sat in the theater to enjoy him- 
 self thoroughly, he would be quite put out if the machinist 
 had put too strong a light into one side of the moon, or if 
 the sky-pieces hung down over the scenes when they ought 
 to have hung behind them, or when a palm tree was intro- 
 duced into a scene representing the Berlin Zoological Gar- 
 dens, or a cactus in a view of the Tyrol, or a beech tree in 
 the far north of Norway. As if that was of any consequence. 
 Is it not quite immaterial? Who would fidget about such a 
 trifle? It's only make-believe, after all, and everyone is ex- 
 pected to be amused. Then sometimes the public applaud- 
 ed too much to suit his taste, and sometimes too little, 
 "They're like wet wood this evening," he would say; "they 
 won't kindle at all !" And then he would look around to see 
 what kind of people they were ; and sometimes he would find 
 them laughing at the wrong time, when they ought not to 
 have laughed, and that vexed him and he fretted and was an 
 unhappy man, and at last fretted himself into his grave. 
 
 Here rests a very happy man. That is to say, a very 
 grand man. He was of high birth, and that was lucky for 
 him, for otherwise he would never have been anything worth 
 speaking of; and nature orders all that very wisely, so that 
 it's quite charming when we think of it. He used to go 
 about in a coat embroidered back and front, and appeared in 
 the saloons of society just like one of those costly, pearl- 
 embroidered bell-pulls, which have always a good, thick, 
 serviceable cord behind them to do the work. He likewise 
 had a good stout cord behind him in the shape of a substi- 
 tute, who did his duty, and who still continues to do it be- 
 hind another embroidered bell-pull. Everything is so nice- 
 ly managed, it's enough to put one into a good humor. 
 
 Here rests — well it's a very mournful reflection — here 
 rests a man who spent sixty-seven years considering how he 
 should get a good idea. The sole object of his life was to 
 say a good thing, and at last he felt convinced in his own 
 mind that he had got one, was so glad of it that he died of 
 pure joy at having caught an idea at last. Nobody derived 
 any benefit from it, and nobody even heard what the good 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 119 
 
 thing was. Now, I can fancy that this same good thing 
 won't let him he quiet in his grave ; for let us suppose that it 
 is a good thing which can only be brought out at breakfast 
 if it is to make an effect, and that he, according to the re- 
 ceived opinion concerning ghosts, can only rise and walk at 
 midnight. Why, then the good thing would not suit the 
 time, and the man must carry his good idea down with him 
 again. What an unhappy man he must be ! 
 
 Here rests a remarkably stingy woman. During her life- 
 time she used to get up at night and mew, so that the neigh- 
 bors might think she kept a cat — she was so remarkably 
 stingy. 
 
 Here is a maiden of another kind. When the canary bird 
 of the heart begins to chirp, reason puts her fingers in her 
 ears. The maiden was going to be married, but — well, it's 
 an everyday story, and we will let the dead rest. 
 
 Here sleeps a widow, who carried melody in her mouth 
 and gall in her heart. She used to go out for prey in the 
 families round about; and the prey she hunted was her 
 neighbors' faults, and she was an indefatigable hunter. 
 
 Here's a family sepulcher. Every member of this family 
 held so firmly to the opinions of the rest, that if all the world, 
 and the newspapers into the bargain, said of a certain thing 
 it is so and so, and the little boy came home from school, 
 and said, "I've learned it thus and thus," they declared his 
 opinion to be the only true one, because he belonged to the 
 family. And it is an acknowledged fact, that if the yard 
 cock of the family crowed at midnight, they would declare it 
 was morning, though the watchman and all the clocks in the 
 city were crying out that it was twelve o'clock at night. 
 
 The great poet Goethe concludes his "Faust" with the 
 words "May be continued"; and our wanderings in the 
 churchyard may be continued, too. If any of my friends, or 
 my non-friends, go on too fast for me, I go out to my favor- 
 ite spot, and select a mound, and bury him or her there — 
 bury that person who is yet alive; and there those I bury 
 must stay till they come back as new and improved charac- 
 ters. I inscribe their life and their deeds, looked at in my 
 fashion, in my record; and that's what all people ought to 
 do. They ought not to be vexed when anyone goes on 
 ridiculously, but bury him directly, and maintain their good 
 
120 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 humor; and keep to the InteUigencer, which is often a book 
 written by the people with its hand guided. 
 
 When the time comes for me to be bound with my history 
 in the boards of the grave, I hope they will put up as my 
 epitaph, "A good-humored one." And that's my story. 
 
 CHILDREN'S PRATTLE. 
 
 At the rich merchant's there was a children's party; rich 
 people's children and grand people's children were there. 
 The merchant was a learned man ; he had once gone through 
 the college examination, for his honest father had kept him 
 to this, his father who had at first only been a cattle dealer, 
 but always an honest and industrious man. The trade liad 
 brought money, and the merchant had managed to increase 
 the store. Clever he was, and he had also a heart, but there 
 was less said of his heart than of his money. At the mer- 
 chant's, grand people went in and out — people of blood, as 
 it is called, and people of intellect, and people who had both 
 of these, and people who had neither. Now there was a 
 children's party there, and children's prattle, and children 
 speak frankly from the heart. Among the rest there v/as a 
 beautiful little girl, but the little one was terribly proud; but 
 the servants had taught her that, not her parents, w^ho were 
 far too sensible people. Her father was a Groom of the 
 Bedchamber, and that is a very grand ofhce, and she 
 knew it. 
 
 'T am the child of the bedchamber," she said. 
 
 Now she might just as well have been a child of the cellar, 
 for nobody can help his birth; and then she told the other 
 children that she was "well born," and said that no one who 
 was not well born could get on far in the world ; it was of no 
 use to read and to be industrious; if one was not well born 
 one could not achieve anything. 
 
 "And those whose names end with 'sen,' " said she, "they 
 cannot be anything at all. One must put one's arms akim- 
 bo and make the elbows quite pointed, and keep them at a 
 great distance, these 'sen'!" 
 
 And she stuck out her pretty little arm.s, and made her 
 elbows quite pointed, to show how it was to be done, and 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 121 
 
 her little arms were very pretty. She was a sweet little 
 
 girl. 
 
 But the little daughter of the merchant became very angry 
 at this speech, for her father's name was Petersen, and she 
 knew that the name ended in "sen"; and therefore she said, 
 as proudly as ever she could: 
 
 "But my papa can buy a hundred dollars' worth of bon- 
 bons, and throw them to the children! Can your papa do 
 that?" 
 
 "Yes, but my papa," said an author's little daughter, "my 
 papa can put your papa and everybody's papa into the news- 
 paper. All people are afraid of him, my mamma says, for it 
 is my father who rules in the paper." 
 
 And the little maiden looked exceedingly proud, as 
 though she had been a real Princess, who is expected to 
 look proud. 
 
 But outside the door, which was ajar, stood a poor boy, 
 peeping through the crack of the door. He was of such 
 lowly station that he was not even allowed to enter the 
 room. He had turned the spit for the cook, and she had 
 allowed him to stand behind the door, and to look at the 
 well-dressed children who were making a merry day within, 
 and for him that was a great deal. 
 
 "Oh, to be one of them!" thought he; and then he heard 
 what was said, which was certainly calculated to make him 
 very unhappy. His parents at home had not a penny to 
 spare to buy a newspaper, much less could they write one; 
 and, what was worst of all, his father's name, and conse- 
 quently his own, ended completely in "sen,'' and so he could 
 not turn out well. That was terrible. But, after all, he 
 had been born, and very well born as it seemed to him; that 
 could not be otherwise. 
 
 And that is what was done on that evening. 
 
 Many years have elapsed since then, and in the course of 
 years children became grown-up persons. 
 
 In the town stood a splendid house; it was filled with all 
 kinds of beautiful objects and treasures, and all people 
 wished to see it ; even people who dwelt out of town came to 
 see it. Which of the children of whom we have told might 
 call this house his own? To know that is very easy. No, 
 no; it is not so very easy. The house belonged to the poor 
 little boy who had stood on that night behind the door, and 
 
122 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 he had become something great, ahhough his name ended 
 in "sen" — Thorwaldsen. 
 
 And the three other children? the children of blood and of 
 money, and of spiritual pride? Well, they had nothing 
 wherewith to reproach each other — they turned out well 
 enough, for they had been well dowered by bountiful na- 
 ture; and what they had thought and spoken on that even- 
 ing long ago was mere children's prattle. 
 
 THE FLYING TRUNK. 
 
 There was once a merchant, who was so rich that he could 
 pave the whole street with gold, and almost have enough left 
 for a little lane. But he did not do that; he knew how to 
 employ his money differently. When he spent a shilling he 
 got back a crown, such a clever merchant was he; and this 
 continued till he died. 
 
 His son now got all this money; and he lived merrily, go- 
 ing to the masquerade every evening, making kites out of 
 dollar notes, and playing at ducks and drakes on the sea- 
 coast with gold pieces instead of pebbles. In this way the 
 money might soon be spent, and indeed it was so. At last 
 he had no more than four shillings left, and no clothes to 
 wear but a pair of slippers and an old dressing-gown. Now 
 his friends did not trouble themselves any more about him, 
 as they could not walk with him in the street, but one of 
 them, who was good-natured, sent him an old trunk, with 
 the remark, "Pack up!" Yes, that was all very well, but he 
 had nothing to pack, therefore he seated himself in the 
 trunk. 
 
 That was a wonderful trunk. So soon as anyone pressed 
 the lock, the trunk could fly. He pressed it, and whirr! 
 away flew the trunk with him through the chimney and over 
 the clouds, farther and farther away. But as often as the 
 bottom of the trunk cracked a little he was in great fear lest 
 it might go to pieces, and then he would have flung a fine 
 somersault! In that way he came to the land of the Turks. 
 He hid the trunk in a wood under some dry leaves, and then 
 went into the town. He could do that very well, for among 
 the Turks all the people went dressed like himself in dress- 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 123 
 
 ing-gown and slippers. Then he met a nurse with a Httle 
 child. 
 
 "Here, you Turkish nurse," he began, "what kind of a 
 great castle is that close by the town, in which the windows 
 are so high up?" 
 
 "There dwells the Sultan's daughter," replied she. 'Tt is 
 prophesied that she will be very unhappy respecting a lover; 
 and therefore nobody may go to her, unless the Sultan and 
 Sultana are there too." 
 
 "Thank you!'' said the merchant's son; and he went out 
 into the forest, seated himself in his trunk, flew on the roof, 
 and crept through the window into the Princess's room. 
 
 She was lying asleep on the sofa, and she was so beautiful 
 that the merchant's son was compelled to kiss her. Then 
 she awoke, and was very much startled; but he said he was 
 a Turkish angel, who had come down to her through the 
 air, and that pleased her. 
 
 They sat down side by side, and he told her stories about 
 her eyes; he told her they were the most glorious dark lakes, 
 and that thoughts were swimming about in them like mer- 
 maids. And he told her about her forehead; that it was a 
 snowy mountain, with the most splendid halls full of pic- 
 tures. And he told her about the stork who brings the 
 lovely little children. 
 
 Yes, those were fine histories ! Then he asked the Prin- 
 cess if she would marry him, and she said "Yes," directly. 
 
 "But you must come here on Saturday," said she. "Then 
 the Sultan and the Sultana will be here to tea. They will be 
 very proud that I am to marry a Turkish angel. But take 
 care that you know a very pretty story, for both my parents 
 are very fond indeed of stories. My mother likes them 
 high-flown and moral, but my father likes them merry, so 
 that one can laugh." 
 
 "Yes, I shall bring no marriage gift but a story," said he; 
 and so they parted. But the Princess gave him a saber, the 
 sheath embroidered with gold pieces, and that was very 
 useful to him. 
 
 Now he flew away, bought a new dressing-gown, and sat 
 in the forest and made up a story; it was to be ready by 
 Saturday, and that was not an easy thing. 
 
 By the time he had finished it Saturday had come. The 
 
124 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 Sultan and his wife and all the Court were at the Princess's 
 to tea. He was received very graciously. 
 
 "Will you relate us a story?" said the Sultana; "one that 
 is deep and edifying." 
 
 "Yes, but one that we can laugh at," said the Sultan. 
 
 "Certainly," he replied ; and began. And now listen well. 
 
 "There was once a bundle of Matches, and these Matches 
 were particularly proud of their high descent. Their genea- 
 logical tree, that is to say, the great fir tree of which each of 
 them was a little splinter, had been a great old tree out in 
 the forest. The Matches now lay between a Tinder Box 
 and an old Iron Pot; and they were telling about the days of 
 their youth. 'Yes, when we were upon the green boughs,' 
 they said, 'then we really were upon the green boughs! 
 Every morning and evening there was diamond tea for us 
 (meaning dew) ; we had sunshine all day long whenever the 
 sun shone, and all the little birds had to tell stories. We 
 could see very well that we were rich, for the other trees 
 v\'ere only dressed out in summer, while our family had the 
 means to wear green dresses in the winter as well. But 
 then the woodcutter came, like a great revolution, and our 
 family was broken up. The head of the family got an ap- 
 pointment as mainmast in a first-rate ship, which could sail 
 round the world if necessary; the other branches went to 
 other places, and now we have the office of kindling a light 
 for the vulgar herd. That's how we grand people came to 
 be in the kitchen.' 
 
 " 'My fate was of a different kind,' said the Iron Pot, 
 which stood next to the Matches. 'From the beginning, 
 ever since I came into the v^^orld, there has been a great deal 
 of scouring and cooking done in me. I look after the prac- 
 tical part, and am the first here in the house. My onl}' 
 pleasure is to sit in miy place after dinner, very clean and 
 neat, and to carry on a sensible conversation with my com- 
 rades. But except the Water Pot, which sometimes is taken 
 down into the courtyard, we always live within our four 
 walls. Our only news-monger is the Market Basket; but 
 he speaks very uneasily about the government and the peo- 
 ple. Yes, the other day, there was an old pot that fell down 
 from fright, and burst. He's liberal, I can tell you!' 'Now 
 you're talking too much,' the Tinder Box interrupted, and 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 125 
 
 the steel struck against the flints, so that sparks flew out. 
 'Shall we not have a merry evening?' 
 
 " 'Yes, let us talk about who is the grandest,' said the 
 Matches. 
 
 " 'No, I don't like to talk about myself,' retorted the Pot. 
 'Let us get up an evening entertainment. I will begin. I 
 will tell a story from real life, something that everyone has 
 experienced, so that we can easily imagine the situation, 
 and take pleasure in it. On the Baltic, by the Danish 
 shore ' 
 
 "'That's a pretty beginning!' cried all the Plates. 'That 
 will be a story we shall like.' 
 
 " 'Yes, it happened to me in my youth, when I lived in a 
 quiet family where the furniture was polished, and the floors 
 scoured, and new curtains were put up every fortnight.' 
 
 " 'What an interesting way you have of telling a story !' 
 said the Carpet Broom. 'One can tell directly that a man is 
 speaking who has been in woman's society. There's some- 
 thing pure runs through it.' 
 
 "And the Pot went on telling his story, and the end was 
 as good as the beginning. 
 
 "All the Plates rattled with joy, and the Carpet Broom 
 brought some green parsley out of the dust-hole, and put it 
 like a wreath on the Pot, for he knew that it v/ould vex the 
 others. 'If I crown him to-day,' it thought, 'he will crown 
 me to-morrow.' 
 
 " 'Now I'll dance,' said the Fire Tongs, and they danced. 
 Preserve us! how that implement could lift up one leg! 
 The old Chair Cushion burst to see it. 'Shall I be crowned, 
 too?' thought the Tongs; and indeed a wreath was 
 awarded. 
 
 " 'They're only common people, after all !' thought the 
 Matches. 
 
 "Now the Tea-Urn was to sing; but she said she had 
 taken cold, and could not sing unless she felt boiling within. 
 But that was only affectation ; she did not want to sing, ex- 
 cept when she was in the parlor with the grand people. 
 
 "In the window sat an old Quill Pen, with which the maid 
 generally wrote; there was nothing remarkable about this 
 pen, except that it had been dipped too deep into the ink, 
 but she was proud of that. 'If the Tea-Urn won't sing,' she 
 said, 'she may leave it alone. Outside hangs a nightingale 
 
126 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 in a cage, and he can sing. He hasn't had any education, 
 but this evening we'll say nothing about that.' 
 
 " 'I think it very wrong,' said the Tea-Kettle — he was the 
 kitchen singer, and half-brother to the Tea-Urn — 'that that 
 rich and foreign bird should be listened to. Is that patri- 
 otic? Let the Market Basket decide." 
 
 '' 'I am vexed,' said the Market Basket. 'No one can 
 imagine how much I am secretly vexed. Is that a proper 
 way of spending the evening? Would it not be more sensi- 
 ble to put the house in order? Let each one go to his own 
 place, and I would arrange the whole game. That would 
 be quite another thing.' 
 
 " 'Yes, let us make a disturbance,' cried they all. Then 
 the door opened and the maid came in, and they all stood 
 still; not one stirred. But there was not one pot among 
 them who did not know what he could do, and how grand 
 he was. 'Yes, if I had liked,' each one thought, 'it might 
 have been a very merry evening.' 
 
 "The servant girl took the Matches and lighted the lire 
 with them. Mercy! how they sputtered and burst out into 
 flame! 'Now everyone can see,' thought they, 'that we are 
 the first. How we shine! what a light!' — and they burned 
 out." 
 
 "That was a capital story," said the Sultana. "I feel my- 
 self quite carried away to the kitchen, to the Matches. Yes, 
 now thou shalt marry our daughter." 
 
 "Yes, certainly," said the Sultan, "thou shalt marry our 
 daughter on Monday." 
 
 And they called him thou because he was to belong to the 
 family. 
 
 The wedding was decided on, and on the evening before 
 it the whole city was illuminated. Biscuits and cakes were 
 thrown among the people; the street boys stood upon their 
 toes, called out "Hurrah!" and whistled on their fingers. It 
 was uncommonly splendid. 
 
 "Yes, I shall have to ■ give something as a treat," thought 
 the merchant's son. So he bought rockets and crackers 
 and every imaginable sort of firework, put them all into his 
 trunk, and flew up into the air. 
 
 "Crack!" how they went, and how they went ofif! All 
 the Turks hopped up with such a start that their slippers 
 flew about their ears; such a meteor they had never yet seen. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 127 
 
 Now they could understand that it must be a Turkish angel 
 who was going to marry the Princess. 
 
 What stories people tell! Everyone whom he asked 
 iabout it had seen it in a different way; but one and all 
 thought it fine. 
 
 "I saw the Turkish angel himself," said one. "He had 
 eyes like glowing stars, and a beard like foaming water." 
 
 "He flew in a fiery mantle,'' said another; "the most love- 
 ly little cherub peeped forth from among the folds." 
 
 Yes, they were wonderful things that he heard; and on 
 the following day he was to be married. 
 
 Now he went back to the forest to rest himself in his 
 trunk. But what had become of that? A spark from the 
 fireworks had set fire to it, and the trunk was burned to 
 ashes. He could not fly any more, and could not get to his 
 bride. 
 
 She stood all day on the roof waiting; and most likely she 
 is waiting still. But he wanders through the world telling 
 fairy tales; but they are not so merry as that one he told 
 about the matches. 
 
 THE LAST PEARL. 
 
 We are in a rich, a happy house; all are cheerful and full 
 of joy, master, servants, and friends of the family; for on 
 this day an heir, a son had been born, and mother and child 
 were doing exceedingly well. 
 
 The burning lamp in the bedchamber had been partly 
 shaded, and the windows were guarded by heavy curtains of 
 some costly silken fabric. The carpet was thick and soft as 
 a mossy lawn, and everything invited to slumber — was 
 charmingly suggestive of repose; and the nurse found that, 
 for she slept; and here she might sleep, for everything was 
 good and blessed. The guardian spirit of the house leaned 
 against the head of the bed; over the child at the mother's 
 breast there spread, as it were, a net of shining stars in end- 
 less number, and each star was a pearl of happiness. All 
 the good stars of life had brought their gifts to the new- 
 born one; here sparkled health, wealth, fortune, and love — 
 in short, everything that man can wish for on earth. 
 
128 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "Everything has been presented here," said the guardian 
 spirit. 
 
 "No, not everything," said a voice near him, the voice of 
 the child's good angel. "One fairy has not yet brought her 
 gift; but she will do so some day; even if years should 
 elapse first, she will bring her gift. The last pearl is yet 
 wanting." 
 
 "Wanting! here nothing may be wanting; and if it should 
 be the case, let me go and seek the powerful fairy; let us be- 
 take ourselves to her." 
 
 "She comes! she will come some day unsought! Her 
 pearl may not be wanting; it must be there, so that the com- 
 plete crown may be won.'' 
 
 "Where is she to be found. Where does she dwell? Tell 
 it me, and I will procure the pearl." 
 
 "You will do that?" said the good angel of the child. "I 
 will lead you to her directly, wherever she may be. She has 
 no abiding place — sometimes she rules in the Emperor's 
 palace, sometimes you will find her in the peasant's humble 
 cot; she goes by no person without leaving a trace; she 
 brings two gifts to all, be it a world or a trifie. To this child 
 also she must come. You think the time is equally long, but 
 not equally profitable. Come, let us go for this pearl, the 
 last pearl in ail this wealth." 
 
 And hand in hand they floated toward the spot where the 
 fairy was now lingering. 
 
 It was a great house, with dark windows and empty 
 room-S, and a peculiar stillness reigned therein; a whole row 
 of windows had been opened, so that the rough air could 
 penetrate at its pleasure; the long, white hanging curtains 
 moved to and fro in the current of wind. 
 
 In the middle of the room was placed an open coffin, and 
 in this coffin lay the corpse of a woman, still in the bloom of 
 youth, and very beautiful. Fresh roses were scattered over 
 her, so that only the delicate folded hands and the noble 
 face, glorified in death by the solemn look of consecration 
 and entrance to the better world, were visible. 
 
 Around the coffln stood the husband and the children, a 
 whole troop; the youngest child rested on the father's arm, 
 and all bade their mother their last farewell; the husband 
 kissed her hand, the hand which now was as a withered leaf, 
 but v/hich, a short time ago, had been working and striving 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 129 
 
 in diligent love for them all. Tears of sorrow rolled over 
 their cheeks, and fell in heavy drops to the floor; but not a 
 word was spoken. The silence which reigned here ex- 
 pressed a w^orld of grief. With silent footsteps, and with 
 many a sob, they quitted the room. 
 
 A burning light stands in the room, and the long red wick 
 peers out high above the flame that flickers in the current of 
 air. Strange men come in, and lay the lid on the coffin over 
 the dead one, and drive the nails firmly in, and the blows of 
 the hammer resound through the house, and echo in the 
 hearts that are bleeding. 
 
 "Whither art thou leading me?" asked the guardian 
 spirit. "Here dwells no fairy whose pearl might be counted 
 amongst the best gifts of life!'' 
 
 "Here she lingers; here in this sacred hour," said the 
 angel, and pointed to a corner of the room ; and there, where 
 in her lifetime the mother had taken her seat amid flowers 
 and pictures ; there from whence, like the beneficent fairy of 
 the house, she had greeted husband, children, and friends; 
 from whence, like the sunbeams, she had spread joy and 
 cheerfulness, and been the center and the heart of all — there 
 sat a strange woman, clad in long garments. It was "the 
 Chastened Heart," now mistress and mother here in the 
 dead lady's place. A hot tear rolled down into her lap, and 
 formed itself into a pearl glowing with all the colors of the 
 rainbow. The angel seized it, and the pearl shone like a 
 star of sevenfold radiance. 
 
 The pearl of Chastening, the last, which must not be 
 wanting! it heightens the luster and the meaning of the 
 other pearls. Do you see the sheen of the rainbow — of the 
 bow that unites heaven and earth? A bridge has been built 
 between this world and the heaven beyond. Through the 
 earthly night we gaze upward to the stars, looking for per- 
 fection. Contemplate it, the pearl of Chastening, for it 
 hides within itself the wings that shall carry us to the better 
 world. 
 
130 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALESL 
 
 THE STORKS. 
 
 In the last house in a little village stood a Stork's nest. 
 The Mother-Stork sat in it with her four young ones, who 
 stretched out their heads with the pointed black beaks, for 
 their beaks had not yet turned red. A little way off stood 
 the Father-Stork, all alone on the ridge of the roof, quite 
 upright and stiff; he had drawn up one of his legs, so as not 
 to be quite idle while he stood sentry. One would have 
 thought he had been carved out of wood, so still did he 
 stand. He thought, "It must look very grand, that my 
 wife has a sentry standing by her nest. They can't tell that 
 it is her husband. They certainly think I have been com- 
 manded to stand here. That looks so aristocratic!" And 
 he went on standing on one leg. 
 
 Below in the street a whole crowd of children were play- 
 ing; and when they caught sight of the Storks, one of the 
 boldest of the boys, and afterward all of them, sang the old 
 verse about the storks. But they only sang it just as he 
 could remember it: 
 
 "Stork, stork, fly away! 
 Stand not on one leg to-day. 
 Thy dear wife is in the nest, 
 Where she rocks her young to rest. 
 
 The first he will be hanged, 
 
 The second will be hit, 
 The third, he will be shot, 
 
 And the fourth put on the spit." 
 
 "Just hear what those boys are saying!" said the little 
 Stork-children. "They say we are to be hanged and killed !" 
 
 "You're not to care for that!" said the Mother-Stork. 
 "Don't listen to it, and then it won't matter." 
 
 But the boys went on singing, and pointed at the Storks 
 mockingly with their fingers ; only one boy, whose name was 
 Peter, declared that it was a sin to make a jest of animals, 
 and he would not join in it at all. 
 
 The Mother-Stork comforted her children, "Don't you 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 131 
 
 mind it at all," she said; "see how quiet your father stands, 
 though it's only on one leg." 
 
 "We are very much afraid," said the young Storks; and 
 they drew their heads far back into the nest. 
 
 Now to-day, when the children came out again to play, 
 and saw the Storks, they sang their song: 
 
 "The first, he will be hanged, 
 The second will be hit " 
 
 "Shall we be hanged and beaten?" asked the young 
 Storks. 
 
 "No, certainly not," replied the mother. "You shall learn 
 to £[y; I'll exercise you; then we shall fly out into the mead- 
 ows and pay a visit to the frogs; they will bow before us in 
 the water, and sing 'Coax! coax!' and then we shall eat 
 them up. That will be a real pleasure." 
 
 "And What then?" asked the young Storks. 
 
 "Then all the Storks will assemble, all that are here in 
 the whole country, and the autumn exercises begin; then 
 one must fly well, for that is highly important, for whoever 
 cannot fly properly will be thrust dead by the general's 
 beak; so take care and learn well when the exercising be- 
 gins." 
 
 "But then we shall be killed, as the boy says — and only 
 listen, now they're singing again." 
 
 "Listen to me and not to them," replied the Mother- 
 Stork. "After the great review we shall fly away to the 
 warm countries, far away from here, over mountains and 
 forests. We shall fly to Egypt, Where there are three cov- 
 ered houses of stone, which curl in a point and tower above 
 the clouds; they are called pyramids, and are older than a 
 stork can imagine. There is a river in that country, which 
 runs out of its bed, and then all the land is turned to mud. 
 One walks about in the mud, and eats frogs." 
 
 "Oh-h!" cried the young ones. 
 
 "Yes! It is glorious there! One does nothing all day 
 long but eat; and while we are so comfortable over there, 
 here there is not a green leaf on the trees; here it is so cold 
 that the clouds freeze to pieces, and fall down in little white 
 rags 1" 
 
 It was snow that she meant, but she could not explain it 
 in any other way. 
 
132 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "And do the naughty boys freeze to pieces?" asked the 
 young Storks. 
 
 "No, they do not freeze to pieces; but they are not far 
 from it, and must sit in a dark room and cower. You, on 
 the other hand, can fly about in foreign lands, where there 
 are flowers, and the sun shines warm," 
 
 Now some time had elapsed, and the nestlings had grown 
 so large that they could stand upright in the nest and look 
 far around; and the Father-Stork came every day with de- 
 licious frogs, little snakes, and all kinds of stork-dainties as 
 he found them. Oh! it looked funny when he performed 
 feats before them! He laid his head quite back upon his 
 tail, and clapped with his beak as if he had been a Httle 
 clapper; and then he told them stories, all about the 
 marshes. 
 
 "Listen! now you must learn to fly," said the Mother- 
 Stork, one day; and all the four young ones had to go out 
 on the ridge of the roof. Oh, how they tottered! how they 
 balanced themselves with their wings, and yet they were 
 nearly falling down. 
 
 "Only look at me," said the Mother. "Thus you must 
 hold your heads! Thus you must pitch your feet! One, 
 two! one, two! That's what will help you on in the world." 
 
 Then she flew a little way, and the young ones made a 
 little clumsy leap. Bump! — there they lay, for their bodies 
 were too heavy. 
 
 "I will not fly!" said one of the young Storks, and crept 
 back into the nest; "I don't care about getting to the warm 
 countries." 
 
 "Do you want to freeze to death here when the winter 
 comes? Are the boys to come and hang you, and singe 
 you, and roast you? Now I'll call them." 
 
 "Oh, no!" cried the young Stork, and hopped out on to 
 the roof again like the rest. 
 
 On the third day they could actually fly a little, and then 
 they thought they could also soar and hover in the air. 
 They tried it, but — bump! — down they tumbled, and they 
 had to flap their wings again quickly enough. Now the 
 boys came into the street again, and sang their song: 
 
 "Stork, stork, fly away!" 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES, 133 
 
 "Shall we fly down and pick their eyes out?" asked the 
 young Storks. 
 
 "No," replied the mother, "let them alone. Only listen 
 to me, that's far more important. One, two, three! — now 
 we fly round to the right. One, two, three! — now to the 
 left round the chimney. See, that was very good! the last 
 kick with the feet was so neat and correct that you shall 
 have permission to-morrow to fly with me to the marsh! 
 Several nice stork families go there with their young; sliov/ 
 them that mine are the nicest, and that you can start proud- 
 ly; that looks well, and will get you consideration." 
 
 "But are we not to take revenge on the rude boys?" asked 
 the young Storks. 
 
 "Let them scream as much as they like. You will fly up 
 to the clouds, and get to the land of the pyramids, when 
 they will have to shiver, and not have a green leaf or a 
 sweet apple." 
 
 "Yes, but we will revenge ourselves!" they whispered to 
 one another; and then the exercising went on. 
 
 Among all the boys down in the street, the one most bent 
 upon singing the teasing song was he who had begun it, 
 and he was quite a little boy. He could hardly be more 
 than six years old. The young Storks certainly thought he 
 was a hundred, for he was much bigger than their mother 
 and father; and how should they know how old children 
 and grown-up people can be? Their revenge was to come 
 upon this boy, for it was he who had begun, and he always 
 kept on. The young Storks were very angry; and as they 
 grew bigger they were less inclined to bear it; at last their 
 mother had to promise them that they should be revenged, 
 but not till the last day of their stay. 
 
 "We must first see how you behave at the grand review. 
 If you get through badly, so that the general stabs you 
 through the chest with his beak, the boys will be right, at 
 least, in one way. Let us see." 
 
 "Yes, you shall see!" cried the young Storks; and then 
 they took all imaginable pains. They practiced every day, 
 and flew so neatly and so lightly that it was a pleasure to see 
 them. 
 
 Now the autumn came on; all the Storks began to as- 
 semble, to fly away to the warm countries while it is winter 
 here. That was a review. They had to fly over forests 
 
134 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 and villages, to show how well they could soar, for it was a 
 long journey they had before them. The young Storks did 
 their part so well that they got as a mark, "Remarkably 
 well, with frogs and snakes." That was the highest mark; 
 and they might eat the frogs and snakes; and that is what 
 they did. 
 
 "Now we will be revenged!" they said. 
 
 "Yes, certainly!" said the Mother-Stork. "What I have 
 thought of will be the best. I know the pond in which all 
 the little mortals lie till the stork comes and brings them to 
 their parents. The pretty little babies lie there and dream 
 so sweetly as they never dream afterward. All parents are 
 glad to have such a child, and all children want to have a 
 sister or a brother. Now we will fly to the pond, and bring 
 one for each of the children who have not sung the naughty 
 song and laughed at the storks." 
 
 "But he who began to sing — ^that naughty, ugly boy!" 
 screamed the young Storks; "what shall we do with him?" 
 
 "There is a little dead child in the pond, one that has 
 dreamed itself to death; we will bring that for him.. Then 
 he will cry because we have brought him a little dead broth- 
 er. But that good boy — you have not forgotten him, the 
 one who said, Tt is wrong to laugh at animals!' for him we 
 will bring a brother and a sister too. And as his name is 
 Peter, all of you shall be called Peter, too." 
 
 And it was done as she said; all the storks were named 
 Peter, and so they are all called even now. 
 
 GRANDMOTHER. 
 
 Grandmother is very old; she has many wrinkles, and 
 her hair is quite white; but her eyes, which are like two 
 stars, and even more beautiful, look at you mildly and pleas- 
 antly, and it does you good to look into them. And then 
 she can tell the most wonderful stories; and she has a 
 gown with great flowers Avorked in it, and it is of heavy silk, 
 and it rustles. Grandmother knows a great deal, for she 
 was alive before father and mother, that's quite certain! 
 Grandmother has a hymn book with great silver clasps, and 
 she often reads in that book; in the middle of the book 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 135 
 
 lies a rose, quite flat and dry; it is not as pretty as the roses 
 she has standing in the glass, and yet she smiles at it most 
 pleasantly of all, and tears even come into her eyes. I 
 wonder why Grandmother looks at the withered flower in 
 the old book in that way? Do you know? Why, each time 
 that Grandmother's tears fall upon the rose, its colors be- 
 come fresh again; the rose swells and fills the whole room 
 with its fragrance; the walls sink as if they were but mist, 
 and all around her is the glorious green wood, where in 
 summer the sunlight streams through the leaves of the trees; 
 and Grandmother — why, she is young again, a charming 
 maid with light curls and full blooming cheeks, pretty and 
 graceful, fresh as any rose; but the eyes, the mild blessed 
 eyes, they have been left to Grandmother. At her side sits 
 a young man, tall and strong; he gives the rose to her, and 
 she smiles ; Grandmother cannot smile thus now ! — yes, now 
 she smiles! But now he has passed away, and many thoughts 
 and many forms of the past ; and the handsome young man 
 is gone, and the rose lies in the hymn book, and Grandmoth- 
 er sits there again, an old woman, and glances down at the 
 withered rose that lies in the book. 
 
 Now Grandmother is dead. She had been sitting in her 
 armchair, and telling a long, long, capital tale; and she 
 said the tale was told now, and she was tired; and she leaned 
 her head back to sleep awhile. One could hear her breath- 
 ing as she slept; but it became quieter and more quiet, 
 and her countenance was full of happiness and peace; it 
 seemed as if a sunshine spread over her features; and she 
 smiled again, and then the people said she was dead. 
 
 She was laid in the black coflin; and there she lay 
 shrouded in the white linen folds, looking beautiful and 
 mild, though her eyes were closed; but every wrinkle had 
 vanished, and there was a smile around her mouth; her 
 hair was silver-white and venerable ; and we did not feel at 
 all afraid to look at the corpse of her who had been the 
 dear good Grandmother. And the hymn book was placed 
 under her head, for she had wished it so, and the rose was 
 still in the old book; and then they buried Grandmother. 
 
 On the grave, close by the churchyard wall, they planted 
 a rose tree; and it was full of roses; and the nightingale 
 flew singing over the flowers and over the grave. In the 
 church the finest psalms sounded from the organ — the 
 
136 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 psalms that were written in the old book under the dead 
 one's head. The moon shone down upon the grave, but 
 the dead one was not there. Every child could go safely, 
 even at night, and pluck a rose there by the churchyard 
 wall. A dead person knows more than all we living ones. 
 The dead know what a terror would come upon us, if the 
 strange thing were to happen that they appeared among us; 
 the dead are better than we all; the dead return no more. 
 The earth has been heaped over the coffin, and it is earth 
 that lies in the coffin ; and the leaves of the hymn book are 
 dust, and the rose, with all its recollections, has returned to 
 dust likewise. But above there bloom fresh roses ; the night- 
 ingale sings and the organ sounds, and the remembrance 
 lives of the old Grandmother with the mild eyes that always 
 looked young. Eyes can never die! Ours will once be- 
 hold Grandmother again, young and beautiful, as when for 
 the first time she kissed the fresh red rose that is now dust 
 in the grave. 
 
 THE UGLY DUCKLING. 
 
 It was glorious out in the country. It was summer, and 
 the cornfields were yellow, and the oats were green; the hay 
 had been put up in stacks in the green meadows, and the 
 stork went about on his long red legs, and chattered 
 Egyptian, for this was the language he had learned from 
 his good mother. All around the fields and meadows were 
 great forests, and in the midst of these forests lay deep lakes. 
 Yes, it was really glorious out in the country. In the midst 
 of the sunshine there lay an old farm, surrounded by deep 
 canals, and from the wall down to the water grew great 
 burdocks, so high that little children could stand upright 
 under the loftiest of them. It was just as wild there as in 
 the deepest wood. Here sat a Duck upon her nest, for she 
 had to hatch her young ones; but she was almost tired out 
 before the little ones came; and then she so seldom had 
 visitors. The other ducks liked better to swim about in the 
 canals than to run up to sit down under a burdock, and 
 cackle with her. 
 
 At last one eggshell after another burst open. "Piep! 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 137 
 
 piep!" it cried, and in all the eggs there were little creatures 
 tnai stuck out their heads. 
 
 "Rap! rap!" they said; and they all came rapping out 
 as fast as they could, looking all round them under the green 
 leaves; and the mother let them look as much as they chose, 
 for green is good for the eyes. 
 
 "How wide the world is!" said the young ones, for they 
 certainly had much more room now than when they were in 
 the eggs. 
 
 "Do you think this is all the world!" asked the mother. 
 "That extends far across the other side of the garden, quite 
 into the parson's field, but I have never been there yet. I 
 hope you are all together," she continued, and stood up. 
 "No, I have not all. The largest egg still lies there. How 
 long is that to last? I am really tired of it." And she sat 
 down again. 
 
 "Well, how goes it?" asked an old Duck who had come 
 to pay her a visit. 
 
 "It lasts a long time with that one egg," said the Duck who 
 sat there. "It will not burst. Now, only look at the others ; 
 are they not the prettiest ducks one could possibly see? 
 They are all like their father; the bad fellow never comes to 
 see me." 
 
 "Let me see the egg which will not burst," said the old 
 visitor. "Believe me, it is a turkey's egg. I was once 
 cheated in that way, and had much anxiety and trouble with 
 the young ones, for they are afraid of the water. I could 
 not get them to venture in. I quacked and clucked, but it 
 was of no use. Let me see the egg. Yes, that's a turkey's 
 egg\ Let it lie there, and you teach the other children to 
 swim." 
 
 "I think I will sit on it a little longer," said the Duck. 
 "I've sat so long now that I can sit a few days more." 
 
 "Just as you please," said the old Duck; and she went 
 away. 
 
 At last the great egg burst. "Piep! Piep!" said the little 
 one, and crept forth. It was very large and very ugly. The 
 Duck looked at it. 
 
 "It's a very large duckling," said she ; "none of the others 
 look like that; can it really be a turkey chick? Now we 
 shall soon find it out. It must go into the water, even if I 
 have to thrust it in myself." 
 
138 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 The next day the weather was splendidly bright, and the 
 sun shone on all the green trees. The Mother-Duck went 
 down to the water with all her little ones. Splash! she 
 jumped into the water. "Quack! quack!" she said, and 
 then one duckling after another plunged in. The water 
 closed over their heads, but they came up in an instant, and 
 swam capitally; their legs went of themselves, and there 
 they were, all in the water. The ugly gray Duckling swam 
 with them. 
 
 "No, it's not a turkey," said she; "look how well it can 
 use its legs, and how upright it holds itself. It is my own 
 child ! On the whole it's quite pretty, if one looks at it right- 
 ly. Quack! quack! come with me, and I'll lead you out 
 into the great world, and present you in the poultry-yard; 
 but keep close to me, so that no one may tread on you; and 
 take care of the cats!" 
 
 And so they came into the poultry-yard. There was a 
 terrible riot going on in there, for two families were quarrel- 
 ing about an eel's head, and the cat got it after all. 
 
 "See, that's how it goes in the world!" said the Alother- 
 Duck; and she whetted her beak, for she, too, wanted the 
 eel's head. "Only use your legs," she said. "See that you 
 bustle about, and bow your heads before the old Duck 
 yonder. She's the grandest of all here; she's of Spanish 
 blood — that's why she's so fat; and do you see, she has a 
 red rag round her leg; that's something particularly fine, 
 and the greatest distinction a duck can enjoy; it signifies 
 that one does not want to lose her, and that she's to be 
 recognized by man and beast. Shake yourselves — don't 
 turn in your toes; a well-brought-up Duck turns its toes 
 quite out, just like father and mother, so! Now bend your 
 necks and say 'Rap !' " 
 
 And they did so; but the other Ducks round about looked 
 at them, and said quite boldly: 
 
 "Look there! now we're to have these hanging on, as if 
 there were not enough of us already! And — fie — ! how that 
 Duckling yonder looks; we won't stand that!" And one 
 duck flew up immediately, and bit it in the neck. 
 
 "Let it alone," said the mother; "it does no harm to any- 
 one." 
 
 "Yes, but it's too large and peculiar," said the Duck who 
 had bitten it; "and therefore it must be bufifeted." 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 139 
 
 "Those are pretty children that the mother has there," said 
 the old Duck with the rag round her leg. "They're all pretty 
 but that one; that was a failure. I wish she could alter 
 it." 
 
 "That cannot be done, my lady," replied the Mother- 
 Duck. "It is not pretty, but it has a really good disposition, 
 and swims as well as any other; I may even say it swims 
 better. I think it will grow up pretty, and become smaller 
 in time ; it has lain too long in the egg, and therefore is not 
 properly shaped." And then she pinched it in the neck, 
 and smoothed its feathers. "Moreover, it is a drake," she 
 said, "and therefore it is not of so much consequence. I 
 think he will be very strong; he makes his way alread}-." 
 
 "The other ducklings are graceful enough," said the old 
 Duck. "Make yourself at home; and if you find an eel's 
 head, you may bring it me." 
 
 And now they were at home. But the poor Duckling 
 which had crept last out of the egg, and looked so ugly, 
 was bitten and pushed and jeered, as much by the ducks as 
 by the chickens. 
 
 "It is too big!" they all said. And the turkey-cock, who 
 had been born with spurs, and therefore thought himself an 
 Emperor blew himself up like a ship in full sail, and bore 
 straight down upon it; then he gobbled, and grew quite red 
 in the face. The poor Duckling did not know where it 
 should stand or walk; it was quite melancholy, because it 
 looked ugly and was scofifed at by the whole yard. 
 
 So it went on the first day; and afterward it became worse 
 and worse. The poor Duckling was hunted about by every- 
 one; even its brothers and sisters were quite angry with it, 
 and said, "If the cat would only catch you, you ugly 
 creature!" And the mother said, "If you were only far 
 away!" And the ducks bit it, and the chickens beat it, 
 and the girl who had to feed the poultry kicked at it with 
 her foot. 
 
 Then it ran and flew over the fence, and the little birds 
 in the bushes flew up in fear. 
 
 "That is because I am so ugly!" thought the Duckling; 
 and it shut its eyes, but flew no further; thus it came out 
 into the great moor, where the Wild Ducks lived. Here it 
 lay the whole night long; and it was weary and downcast. 
 
140 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 Toward morning the Wild Ducks flew up, and looked at 
 their new companion. 
 
 "What sort of a one are you?" they asked; and the Duck- 
 ling turned in every direction, and bowed as well as it could. 
 "You are remarkably ugly!" said the Wild Ducks. "But 
 that is very indifferent to us, so long as you do not marry 
 into our family." 
 
 Poor thing! It certainly did not think of marrying, and 
 only hoped to obtain leave to lie among the reeds and drink 
 some of the swamp-water. 
 
 Thus it lay two whole days; then came thither two Wild 
 Geese, or, properly speaking, two wild ganders. It was 
 not long since each had crept out of an egg, and that's why 
 they were so saucy. 
 
 "Listen comrade," said one of them. "You're so ugly 
 that I like you. Will you go with us, and become a bird of 
 passage? Near here, in another moor, there are a few 
 sweet lovely wild geese, all unmarried, and all able to say 
 'Rap!' You've a chance of making your fortune, ugly as 
 you are!" 
 
 "Piff! paff!" resounded through the air; and the two 
 ganders fell down dead in the swamp, and the water be- 
 came blood-red. "Piff! paf¥!" it sounded again, and whole 
 flocks of wild geese rose up from the reeds. And then 
 there was another report. A great hunt was going on. The 
 hunters were lying in wait all round the moor, and some 
 were even sitting up in the branches of the trees which spread 
 far over the reeds. The blue smoke rose up like clouds among 
 the dark trees, and was wafted far away across the water; 
 and the hunting dogs came — splash, splash! — into the 
 swamp, and the rushes and the reeds bent down on every 
 side. That was a fright for the poor Duckling! It turned 
 its head, and put it under its wing; but at that moment a 
 frightful great dog stood close by the Duckling! His tongue 
 hung far out of his mouth and his eyes gleamed horrible 
 and ugly; he thrust out his nose close against the Duckling, 
 showed his sharp teeth, and — splash, splash! — on he went 
 without seizing it. 
 
 "Oh, Heaven be thanked!" sighed the Duckling. "I am 
 so ugly, that even the dog does not like to bite me!'' 
 
 And so it lay quite quiet, while the shots rattled through 
 the reeds and gun after gun was fired. At last, late in the 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES, 141 
 
 day, silence was restored; but the poor Duckling did not 
 dare to rise up; it waited several hours before it looked 
 round, and then hastened away out of the moor as fast as 
 it could. It ran on over field and meadow; there was such a 
 storm raging that it was difficult to get from one place to 
 another. 
 
 Toward evening the Duck came to a little miserable peas- 
 ant's hut. This hut was so dilapidated that it did not know 
 on which side it should fall; and that's why it remained 
 standing. The storm whistled round the Duckling in such 
 a way that the poor creature was obliged to sit down, to 
 stand against it; and the tempest grew worse and worse. 
 Then the Duckling noticed that one of the hinges of the 
 door had given way, and the door hung so slanting that the 
 Duckling could slip through the crack into the room; and 
 it did so. 
 
 Here lived a woman, with her Tom Cat and her Hen. 
 And the Tom Cat, whom she called Sonnie, could arch his 
 back and purr, he could even give out sparks; but for that 
 one had to stroke his fur the wrong way. The Hen had 
 quite little short legs, and therefore she was called Chicka- 
 biddy-shortshanks ; she laid good eggs^ and the woman 
 loved her as her own child. 
 
 In the morning the strange Duckling was at once no- 
 ticed, and the Tom Cat began to purr, and the Hen to 
 cluck. 
 
 "What's this?" said the woman, and looked all round; but 
 she could not see well, and therefore she thought the Duck- 
 ling was a fat duck that had strayed. "This is a rare prize," 
 she said. "Now I shall have duck's eggs. I hope it is not a 
 drake. We must try that." 
 
 And so the Duckling was admitted on trial for three 
 weeks; but no eggs came. And the Tom Cat was master of 
 the house, and the Hen was the lady, and they always said 
 "We and the world!" for they thought they were half the 
 world, and by far the better half. The Duckling thought 
 one might have a different opinion, but the Hen would not 
 allow it. 
 
 "Can you lay eggs?" she asked. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then you'll have the goodness to hold your tongue." 
 
142 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 And the Tom Cat said, "Can you curve your back, and 
 purr, and give out sparks?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then you cannot have any opinion of your own when 
 sensible people are speaking." 
 
 And the Duckling sat in a corner and was melancholy; 
 then the fresh air and the sunshine streamed in; and it was 
 seized with such a strange longing to swim on the water, 
 that it could not help telling the Hen of it. 
 
 "What are you thinking of?" cried the Hen. "You have 
 nothing to do, that's why you have these fancies. Purr or 
 lay eggs, and they will pass over." 
 
 "But it is so charming to swim on the v/ater!" said the 
 Duckling, "so refreshing to let it close above one's head, 
 and to dive down to the bottom." 
 
 "Yes, that must be a mighty pleasure, truly," quoth the 
 Hen. "I fancy you must have gone crazy. Ask the Cat 
 about it — he's the cleverest animal I know — ask him if he 
 likes to swim on the water, or to dive down : I won't speak 
 about myself. Ask our mistress, the old woman; no one 
 in the world is cleverer than she. Do you think she has any 
 desire to swim, and to let the water close above her head?" 
 
 "You don't understand me," said the Duckling. 
 
 "We don't understand you? Then pray who is to under- 
 stand you? You surely don't pretend to be cleverer than 
 the Tom Cat and the old woman — I won't say anything of 
 myself. Don't be conceited, child, and be grateful for all 
 the kindness you have received. Did you not get into a warm 
 room, and have you not fallen into company from which 
 you may learn something? But you are a chatterer, and it 
 is not pleasant to associate with you. You may believe me, 
 I speak for your good. I tell you disagreeable things, and 
 by that one may always know one's true friends. Only take 
 care that you learn to lay eggs, or to purr and give out 
 sparks!" 
 
 "I think I will go out into the wide world," said the Duck- 
 ling. 
 
 "Yes, do go," replied the Hen. 
 
 And the Duckling went away. It swam on the water, 
 and dived, but it was slighted by every creature because of 
 its ugliness. 
 
 Now came the autumn. The leaves in the forest turned 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 143 
 
 yellow and brown; the wind caught them so that they 
 danced about, and up in the air it was very cold. The clouds 
 hung low, heavy with hail and snow-flakes, and on the fence 
 stood the raven, crying, "Croak! croak!" for mere cold- 
 yes, It was enough to make one feel cold to think of this' 
 Ihe poor little Duckling certainly had not a good time 
 One evenmg— the sun was just setting in his beauty- 
 there came a whole flock of great handsome birds out of the 
 bushes; they were dazzhngiy white, with long flexible necks- 
 they were swans. They uttered a very peculiar cry, spread 
 forth their glorious great wings, and flew away from that 
 cold region to warmer lands, to fair open lakes They 
 mounted so high, so high! and the ugly httle Duckling felt 
 quite strangely as it watched them. It turned round and 
 round m the water like a wheel, stretched out its neck 
 toward them, and uttered such a strange loud cry as frio-ht- 
 ened itself. Oh! it could not forget those beautiful, happy 
 birds; and so soon as it could see them no longer, it dived 
 down to the very bottom, and when it came up 'again it 
 was quite beside itself. It knew not the name of those birds 
 and knew not whither they were flying; but it loved them' 
 more than it had ever loved anyone. It was not at all 
 envious of them. How could it think of wishing to possess 
 such loveliness as they had? It would have been glad if 
 only the ducks would have endured its company— the ooor 
 ugly creature! 
 
 And the winter grew cold, very cold! The Duckling was 
 forced to swim about in the water, to prevent the surface 
 •from freezing entirely; but every night the hole in which it 
 swam about became smaller and smaller. It froze so hard 
 that the icy covering crackled again; and the Duckling was 
 obliged to use its legs continually to prevent the hole from 
 freezing up. At last it became exhausted, and lay quite still 
 and thus froze fast into the ice. 
 
 Early in the morning a peasant came by, and when he 
 saw what had happened, he took his wooden shoe, broke the 
 ice-crust to pieces, and carried the Duckling home to his 
 wife. Then it came to itself again. The children wanted to 
 play with It; but the Duckling thought they would do it 
 an injury, and in its terror fluttered up into the milk-par 
 so that the milk spurted down into the room. The wom-^n 
 clasped her hands, at which the Duckling flew down into the 
 
144 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 butter-tub, and then into the meal-barrel and out again. 
 How it looked then! The woman screamed, and struck at 
 it with the fire-tongs; the children tumbled over one another, 
 in their efforts to catch the Duckling; and they laughed and 
 screamed finely! Happily the door stood open, and the poor 
 creature was able to slip out between the shrubs into the 
 newly-fallen snow; and there it lay quite exhausted. 
 
 But it would be too melancholy if I were to tell all the 
 misery and care which the Duckling had to endure in the 
 hard winter. It lay out on the moor among the reeds, when 
 the sun began to shine again and the larks to sing; it was a 
 beautiful spring. 
 
 Then all at once the Duckling could flap its wings; they 
 beat the air m.ore strongh^ than before, and bore it strongly 
 away; and before it well knew how all this had happened, 
 it found itself in a great garden, where the elder trees smelt 
 sweet, and bent their long green branches down to the 
 canal that wound through the region. Oh, here it was so 
 beautiful, such a gladness of spring! and from the thicket 
 came three glorious white swans; they rustled their wings, 
 and swam lightly on the water. The Duckling knew the 
 splendid creatures, and felt oppressed by a peculiar sad- 
 ness. 
 
 *T will fly away to them, to the royal birds! and they will 
 kill me, because I, that am so ugly, dare to approach them. 
 But it is of no consequence! Better to be killed by them 
 than to be pursued by ducks, and beaten by fowls, and 
 pushed about by the girl who takes care of the poultry- 
 yard, and to suffer hunger in winter!" And it flew out into 
 the water, and swam toward the beautiful swans: these 
 looked at it, and came sailing down upon it with outspread 
 wings. "Kill me!" said the poor creature, and bent its 
 head down upon the water, expecting nothing but death. 
 But what was this that it saw in the clear water? It be- 
 held its own image — and, lo! it was no longer a clumsy dark- 
 gray bird, ugly and hateful to look at, but — a swan. 
 
 It matters nothing if one was born in a duck-yard, if one 
 has only lain in a swan's &gg. 
 
 It felt quite glad at all the need and misfortune it had 
 suffered, now it realized its happiness in all the splendor 
 that surrounded it. And the great swans swam round it, 
 and stroked it with their beaks. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 145 
 
 Into the garden came little children, who threw bread and 
 corn into the water; the youngest cried, "There is a new 
 one!" and the other children shouted joyously, "Yes, a new 
 one has arrived!" And they clapped their hands and danced 
 about, and ran to their father and mother; and bread and 
 cake were thrown into the water; and they all said, "The 
 new one is the most beautiful of all! so young and hand- 
 some!" and the old swans bowed their heads before him. 
 
 Then he felt quite ashamed, and hid his head under his 
 wing, for he did not know what to do; he was so happy, 
 and yet not at all proud. He thought how he had been per- 
 secuted and despised; and now he heard them saying that he 
 was the most beautiful of all the birds. Even the elder 
 tree bent its branches straight down into the water before 
 him, and the sun shone warm and mild. Then his wings 
 rustled, he lifted his slender neck, and cried rejoicingly 
 from the depths of his heart: 
 
 "I never dreamed of so much happiness when I was still 
 the Ugly Duckling!" 
 
 THE LOVELIEST ROSE IN THE WORLD. 
 
 Once there reigned a Queen, in whose garden were found 
 the most glorious flowers at all seasons, and from all the 
 lands in the world; but especially she loved roses, and 
 therefore she possessed the most various kinds of this 
 flower, from the wild dog-rose, with the apple-scented green 
 leaves, to the most splendid Provence rose. They grew 
 against the earth walls, wound themselves round pillars and 
 window frames, into the passages, and all along the ceiling 
 in all the halls. And the roses were various in fragrance, 
 form, and color. 
 
 But care and sorrow dwelt in these halls: the Queen lay 
 upon a sick-bed, and the doctors declared that she must die. 
 
 "There is still one thing that can serve her," said the 
 W'isest of them. "Bring her the loveliest rose in the world, 
 the one which is the expression of the brightest and purest 
 love; for if that is brought before her eyes ere they close, 
 she will not die." 
 
 And the young and old came from every side with roses, 
 
 JO 
 
146 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 the loveliest that bloomed in each garden; but they were 
 not the right sort. The flower was to be brought out of the 
 garden of Love; but what rose was it there that expressed 
 the highest and purest love? 
 
 And the poets sang of the loveliest rose in the world, 
 and each one named his own; and intelligence was sent far 
 round the land to every heart that beat with love, to every 
 class and condition, and to every age. 
 
 "No one has till now named the flower," said the wise 
 man. "No one has yet pointed out the place where it 
 bloomed in its splendor. They are not the roses from the 
 coffin of Romeo and Juliet, or from the Walburg's grave, 
 though these roses will be ever fragrant in song. They are 
 not the roses that sprouted from Winkelried's blood-stained 
 lances, from the blood that flows in a sacred cause from the 
 breast of the hero who dies for his country; though no death 
 is sweeter than this, and no rose redder than the blood that 
 flows then. Nor is it that wondrous flower, to cherish which 
 m.an devotes, in a quiet chamber, many a sleepless night, 
 and much of his fresh life — the magic flower of science." 
 
 "I know where it blooms," said a happy mother, who 
 came with her pretty child to the bedside of the Queen. 'T 
 know where the loveliest rose of the world is found! The 
 rose that is the expression of the highest and purest love 
 springs from the blooming cheeks of my sweet child when, 
 strengthened by sleep, it opens its eyes and smiles at me 
 with all its afifection." 
 
 "Lovely is this rose; but there is still a lovelier," said the 
 wise man. 
 
 "Yes, a far lovelier one," said one of the women. "I have 
 seen it, and a loftier, purer rose does not bloom. I saw it on 
 the cheeks of the Queen. She had taken of¥ her golden 
 crown, and in the long, dreary night she was carrying her 
 sick child in her arms; she wept, kissed it, and prayed for 
 her child as a mother prays in the hour of her anguish." 
 
 "Holy and wonderful in its might is the white rose of 
 Grief; but it is not the one we seek." 
 
 "No, the loveliest rose of the world I saw at the altar of 
 the Lord," said the good old Bishop. "I saw it shine as 
 if an angel's face had appeared. The young maidens went 
 to the Lord's Table, and renev/ed the promise made at their 
 baptism, and roses were blushing and pale roses shining 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 147 
 
 on their fresh cheeks. A young girl stood there; she 
 looked with all the purity and love of her young spirit up to 
 heaven: that was the expression of the highest and the 
 purest love." 
 
 "May she be blessed!" said the wise man; "but not one 
 of you has yet named to me tlie loveliest rose of the world." 
 
 Then there came into the room a child, the Queen's little 
 son. Tears stood in his eyes and glistened on his cheeks; 
 he carried a great open book, and the binding of it was 
 velvet, with great silver clasps. 
 
 "Mother!" cried the httle boy, "only hear what I have 
 read." 
 
 And the child sat by the bedside, and read from the book 
 of Him who suffered death on the cross to save men, and 
 even those who were not yet born. 
 
 "Greater love there is not " 
 
 And a roseate hue spread over the cheeks of the Queen, 
 and her eyes gleamed, for she saw that from the leaves of 
 the book there bloomed the loveliest rose, that sprang from 
 the blood of Christ shed on the Cross. 
 
 "I see it!" she said: "he who beholds this, the loveliest 
 rose on earth, shall never die." 
 
 HOLGER DANSKE. 
 
 "In Denmark there Hes a castle named Kronenburgh. 
 It lies close by the Oer Sound, where the ships pass through 
 by hundreds every day — Enghsh, Russian, and likewise 
 Prussian ships. And they salute the old castle with can- 
 nons — 'Boom!' And the castle answers with a 'Boom!' for 
 that's what the cannons say instead of 'Good-day' and 
 'Thank you!' In winter no ships sail there, for the whole 
 sea is covered with ice quite across to the Swedish coast; 
 but it has quite the look of a high road. There wave the 
 Danish flag and the Swedish flag, and Danes and Swedes 
 say 'Good-day' and 'Thank you!' to each other, not with 
 cannons, but with a friendly grasp of the hand; and one gets 
 white bread and biscuits from the other — for strange fare 
 tastes best. But the most beautiful of all is the old Kron- 
 
148 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 enburgh ; and here it is that Holger Danske sits in the deep 
 dark cellar, where nobody goes. He is clad in iron and 
 steel, and leans his head on his strong arms; his long beard 
 hangs down over the marble table, and has grown into it. 
 He sleeps and dreams, but in his dreams he sees every- 
 thing that happens up here in Denmark. Every Christmas 
 Eve comes an angel, and tells him that what he has 
 dreamed is right, and that he may go to sleep in quiet, for 
 that Denmark is not yet in any real danger; but when 
 once such a danger comes, then old Holger Danske will 
 rouse himself, so that the table shall burst when he draws 
 out his beard! Then he will come forth and strike, so 
 that it shall be heard in all the countries in the world." 
 
 An old grandfather sat and told his little grandson all this 
 about Holger Danske; and the little boy knew that what his 
 grandfather told him was true. And while the old man sat 
 and told his story, he carved an image which was to repre- 
 sent Holger Danske, and to be fastened to the prow of a 
 ship; for the old grandfather was a carver of figure-heads, 
 that is, one who cuts out the figures fastened to the front 
 of ships, and from which every ship is named. And here 
 he had cut out Holger Danske, who stood there proudly 
 with his long beard, and held the broad battle-sword in one 
 hand, while with the other he leaned upon the Danish arms. 
 
 And the old grandfather told him so much about distin- 
 guished men and women, that it appeared at last to the lit- 
 tle grandson as if he knew as much as Hoiger Danske him- 
 self, who, after all, could only dream: and when the little 
 fellow was in his bed, he thought so much of it, that he 
 actually pressed his chin against the coverlet, and fancied 
 he had a long beard that had grown fast to it. 
 
 But the old grandfather remained sitting at his work, and 
 carved away at the last part of it; and this was the Danish 
 coat of arms. When he had finished, he looked at the 
 M^hole, and thought of all he had read and heard, and that 
 he had told this evening to the little boy; and he nodded, 
 and wiped his spectacles, and put them on again, and said: 
 
 "Yes, in my time Holger Danske will probably not come; 
 but the boy in the bed yonder may get to see him, and be 
 there when the push really comes." 
 
 And the good old grandfather nodded again; and the 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 149 
 
 more he looked at Holger Danske the more plain did it be- 
 come to him that it was a good image he had carved. It 
 seemed really to gain color, and the armor appeared to 
 gleam like iron and steel; the hearts in the Danish arms 
 became redder and redder, and the lions with the golden 
 crowns on their heads leaped up.* 
 
 "That's the most beautiful coat of arms there is in the 
 world!" said the old man. "The lions are strength, and 
 the heart is gentleness and love!" 
 
 And he looked at the uppermost lion, and thought of 
 King Canute, who bound great England to the throne of 
 Denmark; and he looked at the second lion, and thought 
 of Waldemar, who united Denmark and conquered the 
 Wendish lands; and he glanced at the third lion, and re- 
 membered Margaret, who united Denmark, Sweden, and 
 Norway. But while he looked at the red hearts, they 
 gleamed more brightly than before; they became flames, 
 and his heart followed each of them. 
 
 The first heart led him into a dark narrow prison: there 
 sat a prisoner, a beautiful woman, the daughter of King 
 Christian IV., Eleanor Ulfeld ; f and the flame, which was 
 shaped like a rose, attached itself to her bosom and blos- 
 somed, so that it became one with the heart of her, the no- 
 blest and best of all Danish women. 
 
 And his spirit followed the second flame, which led him 
 out upon the sea, where the cannons thundered and the 
 ships lay shrouded in smoke; and the flame fastened itself 
 in the shape of a ribbon of honor on the breast of Hvitfeld, 
 as he blew himself and his ship into the air, that he might 
 save the fleet.J 
 
 And the third flame led him to the wretched huts of 
 
 * The Danish arms consist of three lions between nine hearts. 
 
 t This highly gifted Princess was the wife of Corfitz Ulfeld, who 
 was accused of high treason. Her only crime was the most faith- 
 ful love to her unhappy consort; but she was compelled to pass 
 twenty-two years in a horrible dungeon, until her persecutor, 
 Queen Sophia Amelia, was dead. 
 
 t In the naval battle in Kjoge Bay between the Danes and the 
 Swedes, in 1710, Hvitfeld's ship, the Danebrog, took fire. To save 
 the town of Kjoge, and the Danish fleet, which was being driven 
 by the wind toward his vessel, he blew himself and his whole 
 crew into the air. 
 
150 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 Greenland, where the preacher Hans Egede f wrought, with 
 love in every word and deed: the flame was a star on his 
 breast, another heart in the Danish arms. 
 
 And the spirit of the old grandfather flew on before the 
 waving flames, for his spirit knew whither the flames de- 
 sired to go. In the humble room of the peasant woman 
 stood Frederick VI., writing his name with chalk on the 
 beam4 The flame trembled on his breast, and trembled in 
 his heart; in the peasant's lowly room his heart too became 
 a heart in the Danish arms. And the old grandfather 
 dried his eyes, for he had known King Frederick with the 
 silvery locks and honest blue eyes, and had lived for him: 
 he folded his hands, and looked in silence straight before 
 him. Then came the daughter-in-law of the old grandfather, 
 and said it was late, he ought now to rest; and the supper 
 table was spread. 
 
 "But it is beautiful, what you have done, grandfather!'' 
 said she. "Holger Danske, and all our old coat of arms! 
 It seems to me just as if I had seen that face before!" 
 
 "No, that can scarcely be," replied the old grandfather; 
 "but I have seen it, and I have tried to carve it in wood as I 
 have kept it in my memory. It was when the English lay 
 in front of the wharf, on the Danish 2d of April,§ when we 
 showed that we were old Danes. In the Denmark, on 
 board which I was, in Steen Bille's squadron, I had a man at 
 my side — it seemed as if the bullets were afraid of him! 
 Merrily he sang old songs, and shot and fought as if he 
 were something more than a man. I remember his face 
 
 t Hans Egede went to Greenland in 1721, and toiled there dur- 
 ing fifteen years among incredible hardships and privations. Not 
 only did he spread Christianity, but exhibited in himself a re- 
 markable example of a Christian man. 
 
 I On a journey on the west coast of Jutland, the King visited 
 an old woman. When he had already quitted her house, the wom- 
 an ran after him, and begged him, as a remembrance, to write his 
 name upon a beam; the King turned back, and complied. Dur- 
 ing his whole lifetime he felt and worked for the peasant class; 
 therefore the Danish peasants begged to be allowed to carry his 
 coffin to the royal vault at Roeskilde, four Danish miles from Co- 
 penhagen. 
 
 § On the 2d of April, 1801, occurred the sanguinary naval battle 
 between the Danes and the English, under Sir Hyde Parker and 
 Nelson. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 151 
 
 yet; but whence he came, and whither he went, I know not 
 ■ — nobody knows. I have often thought he might have been 
 old Holger Danske himself, who had swum down from the 
 Kronenburgh, and aided us in the hour of danger; that was 
 my idea, and there stands his picture." 
 
 And the statue threw its great shadow up against the 
 wall, and even over part of the ceiling; it looked as though 
 the real Holger Danske were standing behind it, for the 
 shadow moved, but this might have been because the flame 
 of the candle did not burn steadily. And the daughter-in- 
 law kissed the old grandfather, and led him to the great 
 armchair by the table; and she and her husband, who was 
 the son of the old man, and father of the little boy in bed, 
 sat and ate their supper; and the grandfather spoke of the 
 Danish lions and of the Danish hearts, of strength and of 
 gentleness; and quite clearly did he explain that there was 
 another strength besides the power that lies in the sword; 
 and he pointed to the shelf on which were the old books, 
 where stood the plays of Holberg, which had been read so 
 often, for they were very amusing; one could almost fancy 
 one recognized the people of by-gone days in them. 
 
 "See, he knew how to strike, too," said the grandfather; 
 "he scourged the foolishness and prejudice of the people 
 so long as he could" — and the grandfather nodded at the 
 mirror, above which stood the calendar, with the "Round 
 Tower" * on it, and said "Tycho Brahe was also one who 
 used the sword, not to cut into flesh and bone, but to build 
 up a plainer way among all the stars of heaven. And then he 
 whose father belonged to my calling, the son of the figure- 
 head carver, he whom we have ourselves seen with his silver 
 hairs and his broad shoulders, he whose name is spoken 
 of in all lands! Yes, he was a sculptor; I am only a carver. 
 Yes, Holger Danske may come in many forms, so that one 
 hears in every country in the world of Denmark's strength. 
 Shall we now drink the health of Bertel!"t 
 
 But the little lad in the bed saw plainly the old Kronen- 
 burgh with the Oer Sound, the real Holger Danske, who 
 sat deep below, with his beard grown through the marble 
 table, dreaming of all that happens up here. Holger 
 
 * The astronomical observatory at Copenhagen. 
 tBertel Thorwaldsen. 
 
152 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 Danske also dreamed of the little, humble room where the 
 carver sat; he heard all that passed, and nodded in his 
 sleep, and said: 
 
 "Yes, remember me, ye Danish folk; remember me. I 
 shall come in the hour of need." 
 
 And without, by the Kronenburgh, shone the bright day, 
 and the wind carried the note of the hunting horn over from 
 the neighboring land; the ship sailed past, and saluted, 
 "Boom! boom!" and from the Kronenburgh came the reply, 
 "Boom! boom!" But Holger Danske did not awake, how- 
 ever loudly they shot, for it was only "Good-day" and 
 "Thank you!" There must be another kind of shooting be- 
 fore he awakes; but he will awake, for there is faith in Hol- 
 ger Danske. 
 
 THE PUPPET SHOWMAN. 
 
 On board the steamer was an elderly man with such a 
 merry face that, if it did not behe him, he must have been 
 the happiest fellow in creation. And, indeed, he declared 
 he was the happiest man; I heard it out of his own mouth. 
 He was a Dane, a traveling theater director. He had all 
 his company with him in a large box, for he was proprietor 
 of a puppet-show. His inborn cheerfulness, he said, had 
 been purified by a Polytechnic candidate, and the experi- 
 ment had made him completely happy. I did not at first 
 understand all this, but afterward he explained the whole 
 story to me, and here it is. He told me: 
 
 "It was in the little town of Slaglese I gave a representa- 
 tion in the hall of the posting house^ and had a brilliant 
 audience, entirely a juvenile one, with the exception of two 
 respectable matrons. All at once a person in black, of 
 student-like appearance, came into the room and sat down; 
 he laughed aloud at the telling parts, and applauded quite 
 appropriately. That was quite an unusual spectator for me! 
 I felt anxious to know who he was, and I heard he was 
 a candidate from the Polytechnic Institution in Copen- 
 hagen, who had been sent out to instruct the folks in the 
 provinces. Punctually at eight o'clock my performance 
 closed; for children must go early to bed, and a manager 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 153 
 
 must consult the convenience of his public. At nine o'clock 
 the candidate commenced his lecture, with experiments, and 
 now I formed part of his audience. It was wonderful to 
 hear and to see. The greater part of it was beyond my 
 scope; but still it made me think that if we men can find 
 out so much, we must be surely intended to last longer 
 than the little span until we are hidden away in the earth. 
 They were quite miracles in a small way that he showed, 
 and yet everything flowed as naturally as water! At the 
 time of Moses and the prophets such a man would have been 
 received among the sages of the land; in the middle ages 
 they would have burned him at the stake. All night long 
 I could not go to sleep. And the next evening, when I 
 gave another performance, and the candidate was again 
 present, I felt fairly overflowing with humor. I once heard 
 from a player that when he acted a lover he always thought 
 of one particular ladyam.ong the audience; he only played for 
 her, and forgot all the rest of the house; and now the Poly- 
 technic candidate was my 'she/ my only auditor, for whom 
 alone I played. And when the performance was over, all the 
 puppets were called before the curtain, and the Polytechnic 
 candidate invited me into his room to take a glass of wine; 
 and he spoke of my comedies, and I of his science; and 
 I believe we were both equally pleased. But I had the best 
 of it, for there was much in what he did of which he could 
 not always give me an explanation. For instance, that a piece 
 of iron that falls through a spiral should become magnetic. 
 Now, how does that happen? The spirit comes upon it; 
 but whence does it come? It is as with people in this 
 world; they are made to tumble through the spiral of this 
 world, and the spirit comes upon them, and there stands a 
 Napoleon, or a Luther, or a person of that kind. 'The 
 whole world is a series of miracles,' said the candidate; 
 'but we are so accustomed to them that we call them every- 
 day matters.' And he went on explaining things to me 
 until my skull seemed lifted up over my brain, and I de- 
 clared that if I were not an old fellow I would at once 
 visit the Polytechnic Institution, that I might learn to look 
 at the sunny side of the world, though I am one of the hap- 
 piest of men. 'One of the happiest!' said the candidate, 
 and he seemed to take real pleasure in it. 'Are you happy?' 
 
154 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 'Yes,' I replied, 'and they welcome me in all the towns 
 where I come with my company; but I certainly have one 
 wish, which sometimes lies like lead, like an Alp, upon my 
 good humor; I should like to become a real theatrical 
 manager, the director of a real troupe of men and women!' 
 'I see," he said; 'you would like to have life breathed into 
 your puppets, so that they might be real actors, and you 
 their director; and would you then be quite happy?' He 
 did not believe it; but I believed it, and we talked it over 
 all manner of ways without coming any nearer to an agree- 
 ment; but we clanked our glasses together, and the wine 
 was excellent. There was some magic in it, or I certainly 
 should have become tipsy. But that did not happen; I re- 
 tained my clear view of things, and somehow there was sun- 
 shine in the room, and sunshine beamed out of the eyes of 
 the Polytechnic candidate. It made me think of the old 
 stories of the gods, in their eternal youth, when they still 
 wandered upon earth and paid visits to tl^e mortals; and I 
 said so to him, and he smiled, and I could have sworn he 
 w^as one of the ancient gods in disguise, or that, at any 
 rate, he belonged to the fam'ly! and certainly he mu-t have 
 been something of the k"nd, for my highest w sh was to have 
 been fulfilled, the puppets were to be gifted with life, and 1 
 was to be director of a real company. We drank to my 
 success and clinked our glasses. He packed all my dolls 
 into a box, bound the box on mv b^ck, and then let me fall 
 through a spiral. I h-^ard mye'f trmb'in?, and t^^en I was 
 lying on the floor — I know that qui^e we'l — and the whole 
 company sprang out of the box. The sp'rit had come upon 
 all of us: all the puppets had become distinguished art sts, 
 so they said themselves, and I was the director. All was 
 ready for the first representation; the whole company wanted 
 to speak to me, and the public also. The dancing lady 
 said the house would fall down if she did not keep it up by 
 standing on one leg; for she was the great genius, and 
 begged to be treated as such. The lady who acted the 
 Queen wished to be treated off the stage as a Queen, or else 
 she should sr^t out of oractice. The man who was only em- 
 ployed to deliver a letter gave himself just as manv airs 
 as the first lover, for he declared the little ones were just as 
 important as the great ones, and all were of equal conse- 
 quence, considered as an artistic whole. The hero would 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 155 
 
 only play parts composed of nothing but points; for those 
 brought him down the applause. The prima donna would 
 only play in a red light; for she declared that a blue one 
 did not suit her complexion. It was like a company of 
 flies in a bottle; and I was in the bottle with them, for I 
 was the director. My breath stopped and my head whixled 
 round; I was as miserable as a man can be. It was quite 
 a novel kind of men among whom I now found myself. I 
 only wished I had them all in the box again, and that I had 
 never been a director at all; so I told them roundly that 
 after all they were nothing but puppets; and then they 
 killed me. I found myself lying on my bed in the room; 
 and how I got there, and how I got away at all from the 
 Polytechnic candidate, he may perhaps know, for I don't. 
 The moon shone upon the floor where the box lay open, 
 and the dolls all in a confusion together — great and small, 
 all scattered about; but I was not idle. Out of bed I 
 jumped, and into the box they had all to go, some on their 
 heads, some on their feet, and I shut down the lid and 
 seated myself upon the box. 'Now you'll just have to stay 
 there,' said I, 'and I shall beware how I wish you flesh and 
 blood again.' I felt quite light; my good humor had come 
 back, and I was the happiest of mortals. The Polytechnic 
 student had fully purified me. I sat as happy as a King, 
 and went to sleep on the box. The next morning — strictly 
 speaking it was noon, for I slept wonderfully late that day 
 — I was still sitting there, happy, and conscious that my 
 former wish had been a foolish one. I inquired for the 
 Polytechnic candidate, but he was gone, like the Greek 
 and Roman gods; and from that time I've been the happiest 
 of men. I am a happy director: none of my company ever 
 grumble, nor my public either, for they are always merry. 
 I can put my pieces together just as I please. I take out 
 of every comedy what pleases me best, and no one is angry 
 at it. Pieces that are neglected nowadays by the great pub- 
 lic, but which it used to run after thirty years ago, and at 
 which it used to cry till the tears ran down its cheeks, 
 these pieces I now take up. I put them before the little 
 ones, and the little ones cry just as papa and mamma used 
 to cry thirty years ago; but I shorten them, for the young- 
 sters don't like a long palaver; what they want is some- 
 thing mournful, but quick." 
 
156 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 A PICTURE FROM THE FORTRESS WALL. 
 
 It is autumn: we stand on the fortress wall, and look out 
 over the sea; we look at the numerous ships, and at the 
 Swedish coast on the other side of the Sound, which rises 
 far above the mirror of waters in the evening glow; behind 
 us the woods stand sharply out; mighty trees surround us; 
 the yellow leaves flutter down from the branches. Below, 
 at the foot of the wall, stand gloomy houses fenced in with 
 palisades; in these it is very narrow and dismal, but still 
 more dismal is it behind the grated loopholes in the wall, 
 for there sit the prisoners, the worst criminals. 
 
 A ray of the sinking sun shines into the bare cell of one 
 of the captives. The sun shines upon the good and the 
 evil. The dark, stubborn criminal throws an impatient look 
 at the cold ray. A little bird flies toward the grating. The 
 bird twitters to the wicked as to the just. He only utters 
 his short "tweet! tweet!" but he perches upon the grating, 
 claps his wings, pecks a feather from one of them, puffs him- 
 self out, and sets his feathers on end on his neck and breast; 
 and the bad chained man looks at him; a milder expression 
 comes into the criminal's hard face; in his breast there 
 swells up a thought — a thought he himself cannot rightly 
 analyze; but the thought has to do with the sunbeam, 
 with the scent of violets which grow luxuriantly in spring 
 at the foot of the wall. Noav the horns of the chasseur 
 soldiers sound merry and full. The little bird starts and flies 
 away; the sunbeam gradually vanishes, and again it is dark 
 in the room, and dark in the heart of the bad man; but 
 still the sun shone into that heart, and the twittering of the 
 bird has touched it! 
 
 Sound on, ye glorious strains of the hunting horns! Con- 
 tinue to sound, for the evening is mild, and the surface of the 
 sea, smooth as a mirror, heaves slowly and gently. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 157 
 
 IN THE DUCK YARD. 
 
 A Duck arrived from Portugal. Some said she came from 
 Spain, but that's all the same. At any rate she was called 
 the Portuguese, and laid eggs, and was killed and cooked, 
 and that was her career. But the Ducklings which crept 
 forth from her eggs were afterward also called Portuguese, 
 and there is something in that. Now, of the whole family 
 there was only one left in the duck yard, a yard to which the 
 Chickens had access likewise, and where the Cock strutted 
 about in a very aggressive manner. 
 
 "He annoys me with his loud crowing!" observed the 
 Portuguese Duck. "But he's a handsome bird, there's no 
 denying that, though he is not a drake. He ought to 
 moderate his voice, but that's an art inseparable from polite 
 education, like that possessed by the little singing birds 
 over in the lime trees in the neighbor's garden. How 
 charmingly they sing! There's something quite pretty in 
 their warbling. I call it Portugal. If I had only such a lit- 
 tle singing bird, I'd be a mother to him, kind and good, for 
 that's in my blood, my Portuguese blood!" 
 
 And while she was still speaking, a little Singing Bird 
 came head over heels from the roof into the yard. The cat 
 was behind him, but the Bird escaped with a broken wing, 
 and that's how he came tumbling into the yard. 
 
 "That's just like the cat; she's a villain!" said the Por- 
 tuguese Duck. "I remember her ways when I had children 
 of my own. That such a creature should be allowed to live, 
 and to wander about upon the roofs! I don't think they do 
 such things in Portugal." 
 
 And she pitied the little Singing Bird, and the other 
 Ducks, who were not of Portuguese descent, pitied him too. 
 
 "Poor little creature!" they said, as one after another 
 came up. "We certainly can't sing," they said, "but we have 
 a sounding board, or something of the kind, within us; we 
 can feel that, though we don't talk of it." 
 
 "But I can talk of it," said the Portuguese Duck; "and I'll 
 do something for the little fellow, for that's my duty." And 
 she stepped into the water-trough, and beat her wings upon 
 
 r 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 WASHINGTON 
 
 U N t V E R - P Y 
 ST. LOUIS - O. 
 
158 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES, 
 
 the water so heartily, that the Httle Singing Bird was almost 
 drowned by the bath he got, but the Duck meant it kindly. 
 "That's a good deed," she said: "the others may take ex- 
 ample by it." 
 
 "Piep!" said the little Bird: one of his wings was broken, 
 and he found it difficult to shake himself; but he quite un- 
 derstood that the bath was kindly meant. "You are very 
 kind hearted, madam," he said; but he did not wish for a 
 second bath. 
 
 "I have never thought about my heart," continued the 
 Portuguese Duck, "but I know this much, that I love all my 
 fellow-creatures except the cat; but nobody can expect me 
 to love her, for she ate up two of my ducklings. But pray 
 make yourself at home, for one can make one's self comfort- 
 able. I myself am from a strange country, as you may see 
 from my bearing and from my feathery dress. My drake is 
 a native of these parts, he's not of my race; but for all that 
 I'm not proud. If anyone here in the yard can understand 
 you, I may assert that I am that person." 
 
 "She's quite full of Portulak," said a little common Duck, 
 who was witty; and all the other common Ducks con- 
 sidered the word Portulak quite a good joke, for it sounded 
 like Portugal; and they nudged each other and said "Rap!" 
 It was too witty! And all the other Ducks now began to 
 notice the little Singing Bird. 
 
 "The Portuguese has certainly a greater command of lan- 
 guage," they said. "For our part, we don't care to fill our 
 beaks with such long words, but our sympathy is just as 
 great. If we don't do anything for you, we march about 
 with you everywhere; and we think that the best thing we 
 can do." 
 
 "You have a lovely voice," said one of the oldest. "It 
 must be a great satisfaction to be able to give so much 
 pleasure as you are able to impart. I certainly am no great 
 judge of your song, and consequently I keep my beak shut; 
 and even that is better than talking nonsense to you, as 
 others do." 
 
 "Don't plague him so," interposed the Portuguese Duck; 
 "he requires rest and nursing. My little Singing Bird, do 
 you wish me to prepare another bath for you?" 
 
 "Oh, no! pray let me be dry!" was the little Bird's peti- 
 tion. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 159 
 
 "The water cure is the only remedy for me when I am 
 unwell," quoth the Portuguese. "Amusement is beneficial 
 too. The neighboring fowls will soon come to pay their 
 visit. There are two Cochin Chinese among them. They 
 wear feathers on their legs, are well educated, and have been 
 brought from afar; consequently they stand higher than the 
 others in my regard." 
 
 And the Fowls came, and the Cock came; to-day he was 
 polite enough to abstain from being rude. 
 
 "You are a true Singing Bird," he said, "and you do as 
 much with your little voice as can possibly be done with it. 
 But one requires a little more shrillness, that every 
 hearer may hear that one is a male." 
 
 The two Chinese stood quite enchanted with the appear- 
 ance of the Singing Bird. He looked very much rumpled 
 after his bath, so that he seemed to them to have quite the 
 appearance of a little Cochin China fowl. 
 
 "He's charming," they cried, and began a conversation 
 with him, speaking in whispers, and using the most aristo- 
 cratic Chinese dialect. 
 
 "We are of your race," they continued. "The Ducks, 
 even the Portuguese, are swimming birds, as you cannot fail 
 to have noticed. You do not know us yet; very few know 
 us, or give themselves the trouble to make our acquaint- 
 ance — not even any of the fowls, though we are born to 
 occupy a higher grade on the ladder than most of the rest. 
 But that does not disturb us: we quietly pursue our path 
 amid the others, whose principles are certainly not ours; 
 for we look at things on the favorable side, and only speak 
 of what is good, though it is difificult sometimes to find 
 something when nothing exists. Except us two and the 
 Cock, there's no one in the whole poultry yard who is at 
 once talented and polite. It cannot even be said of the in- 
 habitants of the duck yard. We warn you, little Singing 
 Bird: don't trust that one yonder with the short tail-feathers, 
 for she's cunning. The pied one there, with the crooked 
 stripes on her wings, is a strife-seeker, and lets nobody have 
 the last word, though she's always in the wrong. The fat 
 duck yonder speaks evil of everyone, and that's against our 
 principles: if we have nothing good to tell, we should hold 
 our beaks. The Portuguese is the only one who has any 
 
160 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 education, and with whom one can associate, but she is 
 passionate, and talks too much about Portugal." 
 
 "I wonder what those two Chinese are always whispering 
 to one another about?" whispered one Duck to her friend. 
 "They annoy me — we have never spoken to them." 
 
 Now the Drake came up. He thought the little Singing 
 Bird was a sparrow. 
 
 "Well, I don't understand the difference," he said; "and, 
 indeed, it's all the same thing. He's only a plaything, and if 
 one has them, why, one has them." 
 
 "Don't you attach any value to what he says," the Portu- 
 guese whispered. "He's very respectable in business mat- 
 ters ; and with him business takes precedence of everything. 
 But now I shall lie down for a rest. One owes that to 
 one's self, that one may be nice and fat when one is to be 
 embalmed with apples and plums." 
 
 And accordingly she lay dov\^n in the sun, and winked 
 with one eye; and she lay comfortably, and she felt very 
 comfortable, and she slept very comfortably. 
 
 The little Singing Bird busied himself with his broken 
 wing. At last he lay down, too, and pressed close to his pro- 
 tectress ; the sun shone warm and bright, and he had found 
 a very good place. 
 
 But the neighbor's fowls were awake, and went about 
 scratching up the earth ; and, to tell the truth, they had paid 
 the visit simph^ and solely to find food for themselves. The 
 Chinese were the first to leave the diick yard, and the other 
 fowls soon followed them. The witty little Duck said of the 
 Portuguese that the old lady was becoming a ducky dotard. 
 At this the other ducks laughed and cackled aloud. "Ducky 
 dotard," they whispered; "that's too witty!" and then 
 they repeated the former joke about Portulak, and de- 
 clared that it was vastly amusing. And then they lay down. 
 
 They had been lying asleep for some time, when suddenly 
 something was thrown into the yard for them to eat. It 
 came down with such a thwack! that the whole company 
 started up from sleep and clapped their wings. The Portu- 
 guese awoke too, and threw herself over on the other side, 
 pressing the little Singing Bird very hard as she did so. 
 
 "Piep!" he cried; "you trod very hard upon me, madam." 
 
 "Well, why do you lie in my way?" the Duck retorted. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 161 
 
 "You must not be so touchy. I have nerves of my own, 
 but yet, I never called out 'PiepF " 
 
 "Don't be angry," said the little Bird; "the 'piep' came 
 out of my beak unawares." 
 
 The Portuguese did not listen to him, but began eating as 
 fast as she could, and made a good meal. When this was 
 ended, and she lay down again, the little Bird came up, and 
 wanted to be amiable, and sang: 
 
 "Tillee-lilly lee. 
 Of the good spring-time 
 I'll sing so fine 
 As far away I flee." 
 
 "Nov/ 1 want to rest after my dinner," said the Portuguese. 
 "You must conform to the rules of the house while you're 
 here. I want to sleep now." 
 
 The httle Singing Bird was quite taken aback, for he had 
 meant it kindly. When Madam afterward awoke, he stood 
 before her again with a little corn that he had found, and 
 laid it at her feet; but as she had not slept well, she was 
 naturally in a very bad humor. 
 
 "Give that to a chicken!" she said, "and don't be always 
 standing in my way." 
 
 "Why are you angry with me?" replied the little Singing 
 Bird. "What have I done?" 
 
 "Done!" repeated the Portuguese Duck; "your mode of 
 expression is not exactly genteel; a fact to which I must 
 call your attention." 
 
 "Yesterday it was sunshine here," said the little Bird, 
 "but to-day it's cloudy and the air is close." 
 
 "You don't know much about the weather, I fancy," re- 
 torted the Portuguese. "The day is not done yet. Don't 
 stand looking so stupid." 
 
 "But you are looking at me just as the wicked eyes 
 looked when I fell into the yard yesterday." 
 
 "Impertinent creature!" exclaimed the Portuguese Duck, 
 "would you compare me with the cat, that beast of prey? 
 There's not a drop of malicious blood in me. I've taken your 
 part, and will teach you good manners." 
 
 And so saying she bit off the Singing Bird's head, and he 
 lay dead on the ground. 
 
 "Now, what's the meaning of this?" she said, "could he 
 u 
 
162 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 not bear even that? Then certainly he was not made for this 
 world. I've been like a mother to him, I know that, for 
 I've a good heart." 
 
 Then the neighbor's Cock stuck his head into the yard, 
 and crowed with steam-engine power. 
 
 "You'll kill me with your crowing!" she cried. "It's all 
 your fault. He's lost his head, and I am very near losing 
 mine." 
 
 "There's not much lying where he fell!" observed the 
 Cock. 
 
 "Speak of him with respect," retorted the Portuguese 
 Duck, "for he had song, manners, and education. He was 
 afifectionate and soft, and that's as good in animals as in 
 your so-called human beings." 
 
 And all the Ducks came crowding round the little dead 
 Singing Bird. Ducks have strong passions, whether they 
 feel envy or pity; and as there was nothing here to envy, 
 pity manifested itself, even in the two Chinese, 
 
 "We shall never get such a singing bird again; he was al- 
 most a Chinese," they whispered; and they wept with a 
 mighty clucking sound, and all the fowls clucked too, but 
 the Ducks went about with the redder eyes. 
 
 "We've hearts of our own," they said; "nobody can deny 
 that." 
 
 "Hearts!" repeated the Portuguese, "yes, that Ave ha-^^, 
 almost as much as in Portugal." 
 
 "Let us think of getting something to satisfy our hunger," 
 said the Drake, "for that's the most important point. If 
 one of our toys is broken, why, we have plenty more !" 
 
 THE RED SHOES. 
 
 There once was a little girl; a very nice pretty little girl. 
 But in summer she had tO' go barefoot, because she was 
 poor, and in winter she wore thick wooden shoes, so that 
 her little instep became quite red, altogether red. 
 
 In the middle of the village lived an old shoem.aker's wife; 
 she sat and sewed, as well as she could, a pair of little shoes, 
 of old strips of red cloth ; they were clumsy enough, but well 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 163 
 
 meant, and the little girl was to have them. The little girl's 
 name was Karen. 
 
 On the day when her mother was buried she received the 
 red shoes and wore them for the first time. They were cer- 
 tainly not suited for mourning; but she had no others, and 
 therefore thrust her little bare feet into them and walked 
 behind the plain deal coffin. 
 
 Suddenly a great carriage came by, and in the carriage 
 sat an old lady; she looked at the little girl and felt pity for 
 her and said to the clergyman: 
 
 "Give me the little girl and I will provide for her." 
 
 Karen thought this was for the sake of the shoes; but the 
 old lady declared they were hideous ; and they were burned. 
 But Karen herself was clothed neatly and properly: she was 
 taught to read and to sew, and the people said she was 
 agreeable. But her mirror said, "You are much more than 
 agreeable; you are beautiful." 
 
 Once the Queen traveled through the country, and had 
 her little daughter with her; and the daughter was a 
 Princess. And the people flocked toward the castle, and 
 Karen too was among them ; and the little Princess stood in 
 a fine white dress at a window, and let herself be gazed at. 
 She had neither train nor golden crown, but she wore 
 splendid red morocco shoes; they were certainly far hand- 
 somer than those the shoemaker's wife had made for little 
 Karen. Nothing in the world can compare with red shoes! 
 
 Now Karen was old enough to be confirmed : new clothes 
 were made for her, and she was to have new shoes. The 
 rich shoemaker in the town took the measure of her little 
 feet; this was done in his own house, in his little room, and 
 there stood great glass cases with neat shoes and shining 
 boots. It had quite a charming appearance, but the old lady 
 could not see well, and therefore took no pleasure in it. 
 Among the shoes stood a red pair, just like those which the 
 princess had worn. How beautiful they were! The shoe- 
 maker also said they had been made for a Count's child, 
 but they had not fitted. 
 
 "That must be patent leather," observed the old lady, 
 "the shoes shine so!" 
 
 "Yes, they shine!" replied Karen; and they fitted her, 
 and were bought. But the old lady did not know that they 
 
164 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 were red; for she would never have allowed Karen to go to 
 her confirmation in red shoes; and that is what Karen d'd. 
 
 Everyone was looking at her shoes. And when she went 
 across the church porch, toward the door of the choir, it 
 seemed to her as if the old pictures on the tombstones, the 
 portraits of clergymen and clergymen's wives, in their stifif 
 collars and long black garments, fixed their eyes upon her 
 red shoes. And she thought of her shoes only, when the 
 priest laid his hand upon her head and spoke holy words. 
 And the organ pealed solemnly, the children sang with their 
 fresh sweet voices, and the old preceptor sang too; but 
 Karen thought only of her red shoes. 
 
 In the afternoon the old lady was informed by everyone 
 that the shoes were red; and she said it was naughty and un- 
 suitable, and that when Karen went to church in future, 
 she should always go in black shoes, even if they were old. 
 
 Next Sunday was Sacrament Sunday. And Karen looked 
 at the black shoes, and looked at the red ones — looked at 
 them again — and put on the red ones. 
 
 The sun shone gloriously; Karen and the old lady went 
 along the footpath through the fields, and it was rather 
 dusty. 
 
 By the church door stood an old invalid soldier with a 
 crutch and a long beard; the beard was rather red than 
 white, for it was red altogether; and he bowed down almost 
 to the ground, and asked the old lady if he might dust her 
 shoes. And Karen also stretched out her little foot. 
 
 "Look, what pretty dancing shoes!" said the old soldier. 
 "Fit so tightly when you dance!" 
 
 And he tapped the soles with his hand. And the old lady 
 gave the soldier an alms, and went into the church with 
 Karen. 
 
 And everyone in the church looked at Karen's red shoes, 
 and all the pictures looked at them. And while Karen knelt 
 in the church she only thought of her red shoes; and she 
 forgot to sing her psalm, and forgot to say her prayer. 
 
 Now all the people went out of church, and the old lady 
 stepped into her carriage. Karen lifted up her foot to step 
 in too; then the old soldier said: 
 
 "Look, what beautiful dancing shoes!" 
 
 And Karen could not resist: she was obliged to dance a 
 few steps; and when she once began, her legs u-ent on danc- 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. ItS 
 
 ing. It was just as though the shoes had obtained power 
 over her. She danced round the corner of the church — 
 she could not help it; the coachman was obliged to run be- 
 hind her and seize her; he lifted her into the carriage, but 
 her feet went on dancing so that she kicked the good old 
 lady violently. At last they took off her shoes, and her legs 
 became quiet. 
 
 At home the shoes were put away in a cupboard; but 
 Karen could not resist looking at them. 
 
 Now the old lady became very ill, and it was said she 
 would not recover. She had to be nursed and waited on: 
 and this was no one's duty so much as Karen's. But there 
 was to be a great ball in the town, and Karen was invited. 
 She looked at the old lady who could not recover; she 
 looked at the red shoes, and thought there would be no 
 harm in it. She put on the shoes, and that she might very 
 well do; but they went to the ball and began to dance. 
 
 But when she wished to go to the right hand, the shoes 
 danced to the left, and when she wanted to go upstairs the 
 shoes danced downward, down into the street and out at the 
 town gate. She danced, and was obliged to dance, till she 
 danced straight out into the dark wood. 
 
 There was something glistening up among the trees, and 
 she thought it was the moon, for she saw a face. But it was 
 the old soldier with the red beard: he sat and nodded, and 
 said: 
 
 "Look, what beautiful dancing shoes!" 
 
 Then she was frightened, and wanted to throw away the 
 red shoes; but they clung fast to her. And she tore off her 
 stockings; but the shoes had grown fast to her feet. And 
 she danced and was compelled to go dancing over field and 
 meadow, in rain and sunshine, by night and by day; but it 
 was most dreadful at night. 
 
 She danced out into the open churchyard; but the dead 
 there do not dance; they have far better things to do. She 
 wished to sit down on the poor man's grave, where the bit- 
 ter fern grows; but there was no peace nor rest for her. 
 And when she danced toward the open church door, she 
 saw there an angel in long white garments, with wings that 
 reached from his shoulders to his feet; his countenance was 
 serious and stern, and in his hand he held a sword that was 
 broad and gleaming. 
 
166 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "Thou shalt dance!" he said — "dance on thy red shoes, 
 till thou art pale and cold, and till thy body shrivels to a 
 skeleton. Thou shalt dance from door to door, and where 
 proud, haughty children dwell, shalt thou knock, that they 
 may hear thee, and be afraid of thee! Thou shalt dance, 
 dance!" 
 
 "Mercy!" cried Karen. 
 
 But she did not hear what the angel answered, for the 
 shoes carried her away — carried her through the door on to 
 the field, over stock and stone, and she was always obliged 
 to dance. 
 
 One morning she danced past a door which she knew 
 well. There was a sound of psalm-singing within, and a 
 coffin was carried out, adorned with flowers. Then she 
 knew that the old lady was dead, and she felt that she was 
 deserted by all, and condemned by the angel of heaven. 
 
 She danced and was compelled to dance — to dance in the 
 dark night. The shoes carried her on over thorn and brier; 
 she scratched herself till she bled; she danced away across 
 the heath to a little lonely house. Here she knew the ex- 
 ecutioner dwelt; and she tapped with her fingers on the 
 panes, and called: 
 
 "Come out, come out! I cannot come in for I must 
 dance!" 
 
 And the executioner said: 
 
 "You probably don't know who I am? I cut ofT the bad 
 people's heads with my ax, and mark how my ax rings!" 
 
 "Do not strike off my head," said Karen, "for if you do I 
 cannot repent of my sin. But strike off my feet with the 
 red shoes!" 
 
 And then she confessed all her sin, and the executioner 
 cut off her feet with the red shoes; but the shoes danced 
 away with the little feet over the fields and into the deep 
 forest. 
 
 And he cut her a pair of wooden feet, with crutches, and 
 taught her a psalm, which the criminals always sing; and 
 she kissed the hand that had held the ax, and went away 
 across the heath. 
 
 "Now I have suffered pain enough for the red shoes," 
 said she. "Now I will go into the cliurch, that they maV see 
 me. 
 
 And she went quickly toward the church door, but when 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 167 
 
 she came there the red shoes danced before her, so that she 
 was frightened, and turned back. 
 
 The whole week through she was sorrowful, and wept 
 many bitter tears; but when Sunday came she said: 
 
 "Now I have suffered and striven enough! I think that 
 I am just as good as many of those who sit in the church 
 and carry their heads high." 
 
 And she went boldly on; but she did not get farther 
 than the churchyard gate before she saw the red shoes danc- 
 ing along before her; then she was seized with terror, and 
 turned back, and repented of her sin right heartily. 
 
 And she went to the parsonage, and begged to be taken 
 there as a servant. She promised to be industrious, and to 
 do all she could; she did not care for wages, and only wished 
 to be Under a roof and with good people. The clergyman's 
 wife pitied her, and took her into her service. And she was 
 industrious and thoughtful. Silently she sat and listened 
 when in the evening the pastor read the Bible aloud. All 
 the little ones were very fond of her; but when they spoke of 
 dress and splendor and beauty, she would shake her head. 
 
 Next Sunday they all went to church, and she was asked 
 if she wished to go too, but she looked sadly, with tears in 
 her eyes, at her crutches. And then the others went to 
 hear God's word; but she went alone into her little room, 
 which was only large enough to contain her bed and a 
 chair. And here she sat with her hymn book; and as she 
 read it with a pious mind, the wind bore the notes of the 
 organ over to her from the church; and she lifted up her 
 face, wet with tears, and said: 
 
 "O Lord, help me!" 
 
 Then the sun shone so brightly; and before her stood the 
 angel in the white garments, the same as she had seen that 
 night at the church door. But he no longer grasped the sharp 
 sword; he held a green branch covered with roses; and he 
 touched the ceiling, and it rose up high, and wherever he 
 touched it a golden star gleamed forth; and he touched the 
 walls, and they spread forth widely, and she saw the organ 
 which was pealing its rich sounds; and she saw the old pic- 
 tures of clergymen and their wives; and the congregation 
 sat in the decorated seats, and sang from their hymn books. 
 The church had come to the poor girl in her narrow room, 
 or her chamber had become a church. She sat in the chair 
 
168 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 with the rest of the clergyman's people; and when they had 
 finished the psalm, and looked up, they nodded and said: 
 
 "That was right that you came here, Karen." 
 
 "It was mercy!" said she. 
 
 And the organ sounded its glorious notes; and the chil- 
 dren's voices singing in the chorus sounded sweet and love- 
 ly; the clear sunshine streamed so warm through the win- 
 clow upon the chair in which Karen sat; and her heart be- 
 came so filled with sunshine, peace, and joy, that it broke. 
 Her soul flew on the sunbeams to heaven; and there was 
 nobody who asked after the Red Shoes! 
 
 SOUP ON A SAUSAGE-PEG. 
 
 I. 
 
 "That was a remarkably fine dinner yesterday," observed 
 an old Mouse of the female sex to another who had not-been 
 at the festive gathering. "I sat number twent5--one from the 
 old Mouse King, so that I was not badly placed. Should 
 you like to hear the order oi the banquet? The courses 
 were very well arranged — moldy bread, bacon-rind, tallow 
 candle, and sausage — and then the same dishes over again 
 from the beginning: it was just as good as having two ban- 
 quets in succession. There was as much joviality and agree- 
 able jesting as in the family circle. Nothing was left but the 
 pegs at the ends of the sausages. And the discourse turned 
 upon these; and at last the expression, 'Soup on sausage- 
 rinds,' or, as they have the proverb in the neighboring coun- 
 try, 'Soup on a sausage-peg,' was mentioned. Everyone 
 had heard the proverb, but no one had ever tasted the 
 sausage-peg soup, much less prepared it. A capital toast 
 was drunk to the inventor of the soup, and it was said he 
 deserved to be a relieving officer. Was not that witty? And 
 the old Mouse King stood up, and promised that the young 
 female mouse who could best prepare that soup should be 
 his Queen; and a year was allowed for the trial." 
 
 "That was not at all bad," said the other Mouse; "but how 
 'does one prepare this soup?" 
 
 "Ah, how is it prepared? That is just what all the young 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 169 
 
 female mice, and the old ones too, are asking. They would 
 all very much like to be Queen; but they don't want to take 
 the trouble to go out into the world to learn how to prepare 
 the soup, and that they would certainly have to do. But 
 everyone has not the gift of leaving the family circle and 
 the chimney corner. In foreign parts one can't get cheese 
 rinds and bacon every day. No, one must bear hunger, and 
 perhaps be eaten up alive by a cat." 
 
 Such were probably the considerations by which the ma- 
 jority were deterred from going out into the wide world and 
 gaining information. Only four Mice announced them- 
 selves ready to depart. They were young and brisk, but poor. 
 Each of them wished to proceed to one of the four quarters 
 of the globe, and then it would become manifest which 'of 
 them was favored by fortune. Everyone took a sausage- 
 peg, so as to keep in mind the object of the journey. The 
 stiff sausage-peg was to be to them as a pilgrim's staff. 
 
 It was at the beginning of May that they set out, and they 
 did not return till the May of the following year; and then 
 only three of them appeared. The fourth did not report 
 herself, nor was there any intelligence of her, though the 
 day of trial was close at hand. 
 
 "Yes, there's always some drawback in even the pleasant- 
 est affair," said the Mouse King. 
 
 And then he gave orders that all mice within a circuit of 
 many miles should be invited. They were to assemble in the 
 kitchen, where the three traveled Mice would stand up in a 
 row, while a sausage-peg, shrouded in crape, was set up 
 as a m.emento of the fourth, who was missing. No one was 
 to proclaim his opinion till the Mouse King had settled 
 what was to be said. And now let us hear. 
 
 II. 
 
 WHAT THE FIRST LITTLE MOUSE HAD SEEN AND 
 LEARNED IN HER TRAVELS. 
 
 "When I went out into the wide world," said the little 
 Mouse, "I thought, as many think at my age, that I had al- 
 ready learned everything; but that was not the case. Years 
 must pass before one gets so far. I went to sea at once. I 
 
170 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 went in a ship that steered toward the north. They had told 
 me that the ship's cook must know how to manage things at 
 sea; but it is easy enough to manage things when one has 
 plenty of sides of bacon, and whole tubs of salt pork, and 
 moldy flour. One has delicate living on board; but one 
 does not learn to prepare soup on a sausage-peg. We sailed 
 along for many days and nights; the ship rocked fearfully, 
 and we did not get off without a wetting. When we at last 
 reached the port to which we were bound, I left the ship; 
 and it was high up in the far north. 
 
 "It is a wonderful thing to go out of one's own corner at 
 home, and sail in a ship, where one has a sort of corner too, 
 and then suddenly to find one's self hundreds of miles away 
 in a strange land. I saw great pathless forests of pine and 
 birch, which smelt so strong that I sneezed, and thought of 
 sausage. There were great lakes there too. When I came 
 close to them the waters were quite clear, but from a dis- 
 tance they looked black as ink. Great swans floated upon 
 them: I thought at first they were spots of foam, they lay 
 so still; but then I saw them walk and fly, and I recognized 
 them. They belong to the goose family — one can see that 
 by their walk; for no one can deny his parentage. I kept 
 with my own kind. I associated with the forest and field 
 mice, who, by the w^ay, know very little, especially as re- 
 gards cookery, though this was the very subject that had 
 brought me abroad. The thought that soup might be boiled 
 on a sausage-peg was such a startling statement to them, 
 that it flew at once from mouth to mouth through the whole 
 forest. They declared the problem could never be solved: 
 and little did I think that there, on the very first night, I 
 should be initiated into the method of its preparation. It 
 was in the height of summer, and that, the mice said, was the 
 reason why the wood smelt so strongly, and why the herbs 
 were so fragrant, and the lakes so transparent and yet so 
 dark, with their white swimming swans. 
 
 "On the margin of the wood, among three or four houses, 
 a pole as tall as the mainmast of a ship had been erected, 
 and from its summit hung wreaths of fluttering ribbons; 
 this was called a maypole. Men and maids danced round 
 the tree, and sang as loudly as they could, to the violin of 
 the fiddler. There were merry doings at sundown and in 
 the moonlight, but I took no part in them — what has a little 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 171 
 
 mouse to do with a May dance? I sat in the soft moss and 
 held my sausage-peg fast. The moon threw its beams es- 
 pecially upon one spot, where a tree stood, covered with 
 moss so exceedingly fine, I may almost venture to say it 
 was as fine as the skin of the Mouse King; but it was of a 
 green color, and that is a great relief to the eye, 
 
 "All at once, the most charming little people came march- 
 ing forth. They were only tall enough to reach to my knee. 
 They looked like men, but were better proportioned: they 
 called themselves elves, and had delicate clothes on, of flow- 
 er-leaves trimmed with the wings of flies and gnats, which 
 had a very good appearance. Directly they appeared, they 
 seemed to seek for something — I knew not what, but at 
 last some of them came toward me, and the chief pointed to 
 my sausage-peg, and said, 'That is just such a one as we 
 want — it is pointed — it is capital!' and the longer he looked 
 at my pilgrim's staff the more delighted he became. 
 
 " T will lend it,' I said, 'but not to keep.' 
 
 "'Not to keep!' they all repeated; and they seized the 
 sausage-peg, which I gave up to them, and danced av/ay to 
 the spot where the fine moss grew ; and here they set up the 
 peg in the midst of the green. They wanted to have a may- 
 pole of their own, and the one they now had seemed cut out 
 for them; and they decorated it so that it was beautiful to 
 behold. 
 
 "First, little spiders spun it round with gold thread, and 
 hung it all over with fluttering veils and flags, so finely 
 woven, bleached so snowy white in the moonshine, that they 
 dazzled my eyes. They took colors from the butterfly's 
 wing, and strewed these over the white linen, and flowers 
 and diamonds gleamed upon it, so that I did not know my 
 sausage-peg again : there is not in all the world such a may- 
 pole as they had made of it. And now came the real great 
 party of elves. They were quite without clothes, and looked 
 as genteel as possible: and they invited me to be present at 
 the feast; but I was to keep at a certain distance, for I was 
 too large for them. 
 
 "And now began such music! It sounded like thousands 
 oi glass bells, so full, so rich, that I thought the swans were 
 singing. I fancied also that I heard the voice of the cuckoo 
 and the blackbird, and at last the whole forest seemed to 
 join in. I heard children's voices, the sound of bells, and 
 
172 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 the song of birds; the most glorious melodies — and all 
 came from the elves' rnaypole, namely, my sausage-peg. 
 I should never have believed that so much could come out 
 of it; but that depends very much upon the hands into which 
 it falls. I was quite touched. I wept, as a little mouse may 
 weep, with pure pleasure. 
 
 "The night was far too short; but it is not longer up 
 yonder at that season. In the morning dawn the breeze be- 
 gan to blow, the mirror of the forest lake was covered with 
 ripples, and all the delicate veils and flags fluttered away 
 in the air. The waving garlands of spider's web, the hang- 
 ing bridges and balustrades, and whatever else they are 
 called, flew away as if they were nothing at all. Six elves 
 brought me back my sausage-peg, and asked me at the same 
 time if I had any wish that they could gratify; so I asked 
 them if they could tell me how soup was made on a sausage- 
 
 " 'How we do it?' asked the chief of the elves, with a 
 smile. 'Why, you have just seen it. I fancy you hardly 
 know your sausage-peg again?' 
 
 " 'You only mean that as a joke,' I replied. And then I 
 told them in so many words why I had undertaken a jour- 
 ney, and what great hopes were founded on^ the operation 
 at home. 'What advantage,' I asked, 'can accrue to our 
 Mouse King, and to our whole powerful state, from the fact 
 of my having witnessed all this festivity? I cannot shake it 
 out of the sausage-peg, and say, "Look, here is the peg, now 
 the soup will come." That would be a dish that could only 
 be put on the table when the guests had dined.' 
 
 "Then the elf dipped his little finger into the cup of a blue 
 violet, and said to me, 
 
 " 'See here! I will anoint your pilgrim's stafif; and when 
 you go back to your country, and come to the castle of the 
 Mouse King, you have but to touch him with the staff, and 
 violets will spring forth and cover its whole surface, even in 
 the coldest winter-time. And so I think I've given you 
 something to carry home, and a little more than some- 
 thing!'" 
 
 But before the little Mouse said what this "something 
 more" was. she stretched her staff out toward the King, and 
 in very truth the most beautiful bunch of violets burst forth; 
 and the scent was so powerful that the Mouse King incon- 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 173 
 
 tinently ordered the mice that stood nearest the chimney 
 to thrust their tails into the fire and create a smell of burn- 
 ing, for the odor of the violets was not to be borne, and was 
 not of the kind he liked. 
 
 "But what was the 'something more/ of which you 
 spoke?'' asked the Mouse King. 
 
 "Why," the Httle Mouse answered, "I think it is what they 
 call effect!" and herewith she turned the staff round, and lo! 
 there was not a single flower to be seen upon it; she only 
 held the naked skewer, and lifted this up, as a musical con- 
 ductor lifts his baton. " 'Violets,' the elf said to me, " 'are 
 for sight, and smell, and touch. Therefore it yet remains 
 to provide for hearing and taste !' " 
 
 And now the little Mouse began to beat time; and music 
 was heard, not such as sounded in the forest among the 
 elves, but such as is heard in the kitchen. There was a 
 bubbling sound of boiling and roasting; and all at once it 
 seemed as if the sound were rushing through every chimney, 
 and pots and kettles were boiling over. The fire-shovel 
 hammered upon the brass kettle, and then, on a sudden, all 
 was quiet again. They heard the quiet subdued song of the 
 tea-kettle, and it was wonderful to hear — they could not 
 quite tell if the kettle were beginning to sing or leaving 
 off; and the little pot simmered, and the big pot simmered, 
 and neither cared for the other: there seemed to be no 
 reason at all in the pots. And the little Mouse flourished 
 her baton more and more wildly; the pot foamed, threw 
 up large bubbles, boiled over, and the wind roared and 
 whistled through the chimney. Oh! It became so terrible 
 that the little Mouse lost her stick at last. 
 
 "That was a heavy soup!" said the Mouse King. "Shall 
 we not soon hear about the preparation?" 
 
 "That was all," said the little Mouse, with a bow. 
 
 "That all ! Then we should be glad to hear what the next 
 has to relate," said the Mouse King. 
 
 III. 
 
 WHAT THE SECOND LITTLE MOUSE HAD TO TELL. 
 
 "I was born in the palace library," said the second Mouse. 
 "I and several members of our family never knew the hapi)i- 
 
174 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 ness of getting into the dining room, much less into the 
 store-room; on my journey, and here to-day, are the only 
 times I have seen a kitchen. We have indeed often been 
 compelled to suffer hunger in the library, but we get a good 
 deal of knowledge. The rumor penetrated even to us, of 
 the royal prize offered to those who could cook soup upon a 
 sausage-peg; and it was my old grandmother who there- 
 upon ferreted out a manuscript, which she certainly could 
 not read, but which she had heard read out, and in which 
 it was written — Those who are poets can boil soup upon 
 a sausage-peg.' She asked me if I were a poet. I felt 
 quite innocent on the subject, and then she told me I must 
 go out, and manage to become one. I again asked what 
 was requisite in that particular — for it was as difficult for me 
 to find that out as to prepare the soup; but grandmother 
 had heard a good deal of reading, and she said that three 
 things were especially necessary: 'Understanding, imagina- 
 tion, feeling. If you can manage to obtain these three, 
 you are a poet, and the sausage-peg affair will be quite easy 
 to you.' 
 
 "And I went forth, and marched toward the west, away 
 into the wide world, to become a poet. 
 
 "Understanding is the most important thing in every af- 
 fair. I knew that, for the two other things are not held in half 
 such respect, and consequently I went out first to seek 
 understanding. Yes, where does he dwell? 'Go to the ant 
 and be wise,' said the great King of the Jews; I knew that 
 from my library experience; and I never stopped till I came 
 to the first great ant-hill, and there I placed myself on the 
 watch, to become wise. 
 
 "The ants are a respectable people. They are under- 
 standing itself. Everything with them is like a well-worked 
 sum, that comes right. To work and to lay eggs, they say, 
 is to live while you live, and to provide for posterity; and 
 accordingly that is what they do. They were divided into 
 the clean and the dirty ants. The rank of each is indicated 
 by a number, and the Ant Queen is number one; and her 
 view is the only correct one, she is the receptacle of all wis- 
 dom; and that was important for me to know. She spoke 
 so much, and it was all so clever, that it sounded to me like 
 nonsense. She declared her ant-hill was the loftiest thing 
 in the world; though close by it grew a tree, which was 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 175 
 
 certainly loftier, much loftier, that could not be denied, and 
 therefore it was never mentioned. One evening an ant had 
 lost herself upon the tree; she had crept up the stem — 
 not up to the crown, but higher than any ant had chmbed 
 until then; and when she turned and came back home, 
 she talked of something far higher than the ant-hill that she 
 had found in her travels; but the other ants considered that 
 an insult to the whole community, and consequently she was 
 condemned to wear a muzzle, and to continual solitary con- 
 finement. But a short time afterward another ant got on 
 the tree, and made the same journey and the same dis- 
 covery: and this one spoke with emphasis, and distinctly 
 as they said; and as, moreover, she was one of the pure 
 ants and very much respected, they believed her; and when 
 she died they erected an egg-shell as a memorial of her, 
 for they had a great respect for the sciences. I saw," con- 
 tinued the little Mouse, "that the ants are always running to 
 and fro with their eggs on their backs. One of them 
 once dropped her egg; she exerted herself greatly to pick 
 it up again, but she could not succeed. The two others 
 came up, and helped her with all their might, insomuch 
 that they nearly dropped their own eggs over it; but then 
 they certainly at once relaxed their exertions, for each 
 should think of himself first — the Ant Queen had declared 
 that by so doing they exhibited at once heart and under- 
 standing, 
 
 " 'These two qualities,' she said, 'place us ants on the high- 
 est step among all reasoning beings. Understanding is 
 seen among us all in predominant measure, and I have 
 the greatest share of understanding.' And so saying, she 
 raised herself on her hind legs, so that she was easily to 
 be recognized. I could not be mistaken, and I ate her up. 
 We were to go to the ants to learn wisdom — and I had got 
 the Queen! 
 
 "I now proceeded nearer to the before-mentioned lofty 
 tree. It was an oak, and had a great trunk and a far-spread- 
 ing top, and was very old. I knew that a living being dwelt 
 here, a Dryad, as it is called, who is born with the tree, 
 and dies with it. I had heard about this in the library; 
 and now I saw an oak tree and an oak girl. She uttered 
 a piercing cry when she saw me so near. Like all females, 
 she was very much afraid of mice; and she had more 
 
176 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 ground for fear than others, for I might have gnawn 
 through the stem of the. tree on which her Hfe depended. 
 I accosted the maiden in a friendly and honest way, and 
 bade her take courage. And she took me up in her dehcate 
 hand; and when I had told her my reason for coming out 
 into the wide world, she promised me that perhaps on that 
 every evening I should have one of the two treasures of 
 which I was still in quest. She told me that Phantasus, the 
 genius of imagination, was her very good friend, that he 
 was beautiful as the god of love, and that he rested many 
 an hour under the leafy boughs of the tree, which then 
 rustled more strongly than ever over the pair of them. He 
 called her his Dryad, she said, and the tree his tree, for the 
 grand gnarled oak was just to his taste, with its root burrow- 
 ing so deep in the earth, and the stem and crown rising 
 so high out in the fresh air, and knowing the beating snow, 
 and the sharp wind, and the warm sunshine as they deserve 
 to be known. 'Yes,' the Dryad continued, 'the birds sing 
 aloft there in the branches, and tell each other of strange 
 countries they have visited; and on the only dead bough 
 the stork has built a nest which is highly ornamental, and, 
 moreover, one gets to hear something of the land of the 
 Pyramids. All that is very pleasing to Phantasus; but it 
 is not enough for him: I myself must talk to him, and tell 
 him of life in the woods, and must revert to my childhood, 
 Vv^hen I was little, and the tree such a delicate thing that 
 a stinging nettle overshadowed it— and I have to tell every- 
 thing, till now that the tree is great and strong. Sit you 
 down under the green thyme, and pay attention; and when 
 Phantasus comes, I shall find an opportunity ^o pinch his 
 wings, and to pull out a little feather. Take the pen — no 
 better is given to any poet — and it will be enough for 
 you !' 
 
 "And when Phantasus came the feather was plucked, and 
 I seized it," said the little Mouse. "I put it in water, and 
 held it there till it grew soft. It was very hard to digest, 
 but I nibbled it up at last. It is not very easy to gnaw one's 
 self into being a poet, though there are many things one 
 must do. Now I had these two things, imagination and 
 understanding, and through these I knew that the third was 
 to be found in the library; for a great man has said and 
 written that there are romances whose sole and single use 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 177 
 
 is that they reHeve people of their superfluous tears, and 
 that they are, in fact, a sort of sponges sucking up human 
 emotion. I remember a few of these old books, which had 
 always looked especially palatable, and were much thumbed 
 and very greasy, having evidently absorbed a great deal of 
 feeling into themselves. 
 
 "I betook myself back to the library, and, so to speak, de- 
 voured a whole novel — that is, the essence of it, the interior 
 part, for I left the crust or binding. When I had digested 
 this, and a second one in addition, I felt a stirring within me, 
 and I ate a bit of a third romance, and now I was a poet. 
 I said so to myself, and told the others also. I had head- 
 ache, and chestache, and I can't tell what aches besides. 
 I began thinking what kind of stories could be made to 
 refer to a sausage-peg; and many pegs, and sticks, and 
 staves, and splinters came into my mind— the Ant Queen 
 must have had a particularly fine understanding. I re- 
 membered the man who took a white stick in his mouth, 
 by which means he could render himself and the stick in- 
 visible; I thought of stick hobby horse, of 'stock rhymes,' 
 of 'breaking the staff over an offender,' and goodness 
 knows how many phrases more concerning sticks, stocks, 
 staves, and pegs. All my thoughts ran upon sticks, 
 staves, and pegs; and when one is a poet (and I am a poet, 
 for I have worked most terribly hard to become one) a 
 person can make poetry on these subjects. I shall there- 
 fore be able to wait upon you every day with a poem or a 
 history — and that's the soup I have to offer." 
 
 "Let us hear what the third has to say," was now the 
 Mouse King's command. 
 
 "Peep! peep!" cried a small voice at the kitchen door, 
 and a little Mouse — it was the fourth of the ]\lice who had 
 contended for the prize, the one whom they looked upon as 
 dead — shot in like an arrow. She toppled the sausage-peg 
 with the crape covering over in a moment. She had been 
 running day and night, and had traveled on the railway, in 
 the goods train, having watched her opportunity, and yet 
 she had almost come too late. She pressed forward, look- 
 ing very much rumpled, and she had lost her sausage-peg, 
 but not her voice, for she at once took up the word, as if 
 they had been waiting for her, and wanted to hear none but 
 
 12 
 
178 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 her, and as if everything else in the world were of no conse- 
 quence. She spoke at once, and spoke fully: she had ap- 
 peared so suddenly that no one found time to object to her 
 speech or to her, while she was speaking. And now let us 
 hear what she said: 
 
 IV. 
 
 WHAT THE FOURTH MOUSE, WHO SPOKE BEFORE THE 
 THIRD. HAD TO TELL. 
 
 "I betook myself immediately to the largest town," she 
 said ; "the name has escaped me — I have a bad memory for 
 names. From the railway I was carried, with some confis- 
 cated goods, to the council house, and when I arrived there, 
 I ran into the dwelling of the jailer. The jailer was talk- 
 ing of his prisoners, and especially of one who had spoken 
 unconsidered words. These words had given rise to others, 
 and these latter had been written down and recorded. 
 
 " 'The whole thing is soup on a sausage-peg.' said the 
 jailer; 'but the soup may cost him his neck.' 
 
 "Now, this gave me an interest in the prisoner," continued 
 the Mouse, "and I watched my opportunity and slipped 
 into his prison — for there's a mouse hole to be found be- 
 hind every locked door. The prisoner looked pale, and had 
 a great beard and bright, sparkling eyes. The lamp flicker- 
 ed and smoked, but the walls were so accustomed to that, 
 that they grew none the blacker for it. The prisoner 
 scratched pictures and verses in white upon the black 
 ground, but I did not read them. I think he found it 
 tedious, and I was a welcome guest. He lured me with 
 bread-crumbs, with whistling, and with friendly words; he 
 was glad to see me, and gradually I got to trust him. and 
 we became good friends. He let me run over his hand, his 
 arm, and into his sleeve; he let me creep about in his 
 beard, and called me his little friend. I really got to love 
 him, for these things are reciprocal. I forgot my mission 
 in the wide world, forgot my sausage-peg; that I had placed 
 in a crack in the floor — it's lying there still. I wished to 
 stay where I was, for if I went away the poor prisoner would 
 have no one at all, and that's having too little in this world. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 179 
 
 I stayed, but he did not stay. He spoke to me very mourn- 
 fully the last time, gave me twice as much bread and cheese 
 as usual, and kissed his hand to me; then he went away, 
 and never came back. I don't know his history. 
 
 "'Soup on a sausage-peg!' said the jailer, to whom I 
 now went; but I should not have trusted him. He took me 
 in his hand, certainly, but he popped me into a cage, a 
 treadmill. That's a horrible engine, in which you go round 
 and round without getting any farther; and people laugh at 
 you into the bargain. 
 
 "The jailers granddaughter was a charming little thing, 
 with a mass of curly hair that shone like gold, and such 
 merry eyes, and such a smiling mouth! 
 
 " 'You poor little mouse,' she said, as she peeped into 
 my ugly cage; and she drew out the iron rod, and forth I 
 jumped to the window board, and from thence to the roof 
 spout. Free! free! I thought only of that, and not of the 
 goal of my journey. 
 
 "It was dark, and night was coming on. I took up my 
 quarters in an old tower, where dwelt a watchman and an 
 owl. That is a creature like a cat, who has the great fail- 
 ing that she eats mice. But one may be mistaken, and so 
 was I, for this was a very respectable, well-educated old 
 owl: she knew more than the watchman, and as much as 
 I. The young owls were always making a racket; but 'Go 
 and make soup on a sausage-peg' were the hardest words 
 she could prevail on herself to utter, she was so fondly 
 attached to her family. Her conduct inspired me with so 
 much confidence, that from the crack in which I was crouch- 
 ing I called out 'peep!' to her. This confidence of mine 
 pleased her hugely, and she assured me I should be under 
 her protection, and that no creature should be allowed to 
 do me wrong; she would reserve me for herself, for the 
 winter, when there would be short commons. 
 
 "She was in every respect a clever woman, and explained 
 to me how the watchman could only 'whoop' with the horn 
 that hung at his side, adding, 'He is terribly conceited about 
 it, and imagines he's an owl in the tower. Wants to do 
 great things, but is very small — soup on a sausage-peg!' 
 
 "I begged the owl to give me a recipe for this soup, and 
 then she explained the matter to me. 
 
 "'Soup on a sausage-peg,' she said, 'was only a human 
 
180 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 proverb, and was to be understood thus: Each thinks his 
 own way best, but the whole signifies nothing.' 
 
 "'Nothing!' I exclaimed. I was quite struck. Truth is 
 not always agreeable, but truth is above everything; and 
 that's what the old owl said. I now thought about it, and 
 readily perceived that if I bought what was above every- 
 thing I bought something far beyond soup on a sausage- 
 peg. So I hastened away, that I might get home in time, 
 and bring the highest and best, that is above everything — 
 namely the truth. The mice are an enlightened people, and 
 the King is above them all He is capable of making me 
 Queen, for the sake of truth." 
 
 "Your truth is a falsehood," said the Mouse who had not 
 yet spoken. "I can prepare the soup, and I mean to pre- 
 pare it." 
 
 V. 
 
 HOW IT WAS PREPARED. 
 
 "I did not travel," the third mouse said. 'T remained in 
 my country — that's the right thing to do. There's no neces- 
 sity for traveling; one can get everything as good here. I 
 stayed at home. I've not learned what I know from super- 
 natural beings, or gobbled it up, or held converse with 
 owls. I have what I know through my own reflections. 
 Will you make haste and put that kettle upon the fire? So 
 — now water must be poured in — quite full — up to the 
 brim ! So — now more fuel — make up the fire, that the water 
 may boil — it must boil over and over! So — I now throw 
 the peg in. Will the King now be pleased to dip his tail 
 in the boiling water, and to stir it round with the said tail? 
 The longer the King stirs it, the more powerful will the 
 soup become. It costs nothing at all — no further materials 
 are necessary, only stir it round!" 
 
 "Cannot anyone else do that?" asked the Mouse King. 
 
 "No," replied the Mouse. "The power is contained only 
 in the tail of the Mouse King." 
 
 And the water boiled and bubbled, and the Mouse King 
 stood close beside the kettle — there was almost danger in 
 it — and he put forth his tail, as the mice do in the dairy 
 when tliey skim the cream, from a pan of milk afterward 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 181 
 
 licking their creamy tails; but his tail only penetrated into 
 the hot steam, and then he sprang hastily down from the 
 hearth. 
 
 "Of course — certainly you are my Queen," he said. "We'll 
 adjourn the soup question till our golden wedding in fifty 
 years' time, so that the poor of my subjects, who will then 
 be fed, may have something to which they can look for- 
 ward with pleasure for a long time." 
 
 ■And soon the wedding was held. But many of the mice 
 said, as they were returning home, that it could not be 
 really called soup on a sausage-peg, but rather soup on 
 a mouse's tail. They said that some of the stories had been 
 very cleverly told. But the whole thing might have been 
 different. 
 
 "I should have told it so — and so — and so !" 
 
 Thus said the critics, who are always wise — after the 
 fact. 
 
 And this story went out into the wide world, everywhere; 
 and opinions varied concerning it, but the story remained 
 as it was. And that is the best in great things and in small, 
 so also with regard to soup on a sausage-peg — not to expect 
 any thanks for it. 
 
 THE SHEPHERDESS AND THE CHIMNEY- 
 SWEEPER. 
 
 Have you ever seen a very old wooden cupboard, quite 
 black with age, and ornamented with carved foliage and 
 arabesques? Just such a cupboard stood in a parlor: it had 
 been a legacy from the great-grandmother, and was covered 
 from top to bottom with carved roses and tulips. There 
 were the quaintest flourishes upon it, and from among 
 these peered forth little stags' heads with antlers. In the 
 middle of the cupboard door an entire figure of a man had 
 been cut out: he was certainly ridiculous to look at, and 
 he grinned, for you could not call it laughing; he had 
 goat's legs, little horns on his head, and a long beard. The 
 children in the room always called him the Billygoat-legs- 
 Major-and-Lieutenant - General - War - Commander - Ser- 
 geant; that was a difficult name to pronounce, and there 
 
182 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 are not many who obtain this title; but it was something to 
 have cut him out. And there he was ! He was always look- 
 ing at the table under the mirror, for on this table stood 
 a lovely little Shepherdess made of china. Her shoes were 
 gilt, her dress was adorned with a red rose, and besides 
 this she had a golden hat and a shepherd's crook: she was 
 very lovely. Close by her stood a little Chimney-sweeper, 
 black as a coal, and also made of porcelain: he was as clean 
 and neat as any other man, for it was only make-be- 
 lieve that he was a sweep; the china-workers might just 
 as well have made a prince of him, if they had been so 
 minded. 
 
 There he stood very nattily with his ladder, and with a 
 face as white and pink as a girl's ; and that was really a fault, 
 for he ought to have been a little black. He stood quite 
 close to the Shepherdess; they had both been placed where 
 they stood; but as they had been placed there, they had 
 become engaged to each other. They suited each other 
 well. Both were young people, both made of the same kind 
 of china, and both were brittle. 
 
 Close to them stood another figure, three times greater 
 than they. This was an old Chinaman, who could nod. He 
 was also of porcelain, and declared himself to be the grand- 
 father of the little Shepherdess; but he could not prove his 
 relationship. He declared he had authority over her, and 
 that therefore he had nodded to Mr. Billygoat-legs-Lieuten- 
 ant-and-Major-General-War-Commxander-Sergeant who was 
 wooing her for his wife. 
 
 "Then you will get a husband!" said the old China- 
 man, "a man who I verily believe is made of mahogany. 
 He can make you Billygoat-legs-Lieutenant-and-Major- 
 General- War-Commander-Sergeant's lady: he has the 
 whole cupboard full of silver plate, which he hoards up in 
 secret drawers." 
 
 "I won't go into that dark cupboard!" said the little 
 Shepherdess. "I have heard tell that he has eleven porce- 
 lain wives in there." 
 
 "Then you may become the twelfth," cried the China- 
 man. "This night, so soon as it rattles in the old cupboard, 
 you shall be married, as true as I am an old Chinaman!'' 
 
 And with that he nodded his head and fell asleep. But 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 183 
 
 the little Shepherdess wept and looked at her heart's be- 
 loved, the porcelain Chimney-Sweeper. 
 
 "I should like to beg of you," said she, "to go out with 
 me into the wide world, for we cannot remain here." 
 
 "I'll do whatever you like," rephed the Chimney-Sweep. 
 "Let us start directly! I think I can keep you by exercising 
 my profession." 
 
 "If we were only safely down from the table!" said she. 
 "I shall not be happy until we are out in the wide world." 
 
 And he comforted her, and showed her how she must 
 place her little foot upon the carved corners and the gilded 
 toliage at the foot of the table; he brought his ladder, too, 
 to help her, and they were soon together upon the floor. 
 But when they looked up at the old cupboard there was 
 a great commotion within: all the carved stags were stretch- 
 ing out their heads, rearing up their antlers, and turning 
 their necks; and the Billygoat-legs-Lieutenant-and-Major- 
 General-War-Commander-Sergeant sprang high in the air, 
 and called across to the old Chinaman: 
 
 "Now they're running away! now they're running away!" 
 
 Then they were a little frightened, and jumped quickly 
 into the drawer of the window-seat. Here were three or 
 four packs of cards which were not complete, and a little 
 puppet-show, which had been built up as well as it could be 
 done. There plays were acted, and all the ladies, diamonds, 
 clubs, hearts, and spades, sat in the first row, fanning them- 
 selves; and behind them stood all the knaves, showing that 
 they had a head above and below, as is usual in playing- 
 cards. The play was about two people who were not to be 
 married to each other, and the Shepherdess wept, because 
 it was just like her own history. 
 
 "I cannot possibly bear this!" said she. "I must go out 
 of the drawer." 
 
 But when they arrived on the floor, and looked up at the 
 drawer, the old Chinaman was awake, and was shaking over 
 his whole body — for below he was all one lump. 
 
 "Now the old Chinaman's coming!" cried the little Shep- 
 herdess; and she fell down upon her porcelain knee, so 
 startled was she. 
 
 "I have an idea," said the Chimney-Sweeper. "Shall we 
 creep into the great pot-pourri vase which stands in the cor- 
 
184 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 ner? Then we can lie on roses and lavender, and throw 
 salt in his eyes if he comes.'' 
 
 "That will be of no use," she replied. "Besides, I know 
 that the old Chinaman and the pot-pourri vase were once 
 engaged to each other, and a kind of liking always remains 
 when people have stood in such a relation to each other. 
 No, there's nothing left for us but to go out into the wide 
 world." 
 
 "Have you really courage to go into the wide world 
 with me?" asked the Chimney-Svv^eeper. "Have you con- 
 sidered how wide the world is, and that we can never come 
 back here again?" 
 
 "I have," replied she. 
 
 And the Chimney-Sweeper looked fondly at her, and 
 said: 
 
 "My way is through the chimney. If you have really 
 courage to creep with me through the stove — through the 
 iron fire-box as well as up the pipe, then we can get out 
 into the chimney, and I know how to find my way through 
 there. We'll mount so high that they can't catch us, 
 and quite at the top there's a hole that leads out into the 
 wide world." 
 
 And he led her to the door of the stove. 
 
 "It looks very black there," said she; but still she went 
 with him, through the box and through the pipe, where it 
 was pitch-dark night. 
 
 "Now we are in the chimney," said he; "and look, look! 
 up yonder a beautiful star is shining." 
 
 And it was a real star in the sky, which shone straight 
 down upon them, as if it would show them the way. And 
 they clambered and crept: it was a frightful way, and ter- 
 rible steep; but he supported her and helped her up; he 
 held her, and showed her the best places where she could 
 place her little porcelain feet; and thus they reached the 
 edge of the chimney, and upon that they sat down, for 
 they were desperately tired, as they well might be. 
 
 The sky wdth all its stars was high above, and all the 
 roofs of the town deep below them. They looked far 
 around — far, far out into the world. The poor Shepherdess 
 had never thought of it as it really was: she leaned her 
 little head against the Chimney-Sweeper, then she wept so 
 bitterly that the gold ran down ofif her girdle. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 185 
 
 "That is too much," she said. "I cannot bear that. The 
 world is too large! If I were only back upon the table be- 
 low the mirror! I shall never be happy until I am there 
 again. Now I have followed you out into the wide world, 
 you may accompany me back again if you really love 
 me." 
 
 And the Chimney-Sweeper spoke sensibly to her — spoke 
 ol the old Chinaman and the Billygoat-legs-Lieutenant- 
 and-Major-General-War-Commander- Sergeant; but she 
 sobbed bitterly and kissed her little Chimney-Sweeper, so 
 that he could not help giving way to her, though it was 
 foolish. 
 
 And so with much labor they climbed down the chimney 
 again. And they crept through the pipe and the fire-box. 
 That was not pleasant at all. And there they stood in the 
 dark stove; there they listened behind the door, to find out 
 what was going on in the room. Then it was quite quiet: 
 they looked in — ah! there lay the old Chinaman in the mid- 
 dle of the floor! He had fallen down from the table as he 
 was pursuing them, and now he lay broken into three pieces; 
 his back had come off all in one piece, and his head had 
 rolled into a corner. The Billygoat-legs-Lieutenant-and- 
 Major-General-War-Commander-Sergeant stood where he 
 had always stood, considering. 
 
 "That is terrible!" said the little Shepherdess. "The old 
 grandfather has fallen to pieces, and it is our fault. I shall 
 never survive it!" and then she wrung her little hands. 
 
 "He can be mended! he can be mended!" said the Chim- 
 ney-sweeper. "Don't be so violent. If they glue his back 
 together and give him a good rivet in his neck, he will be as 
 good as new, and may say many a disagreeable thing to us 
 yet." 
 
 "Do you think so?" cried she. 
 
 So they climbed back upon the table where they used to 
 stand. 
 
 "You see, we have come to this," said the Chimney-Sweep- 
 er: "we might have saved ourselves all the trouble we have 
 had." 
 
 "If the old grandfather was only riveted!" said the Shep- 
 herdess. "I wonder if that is dear?" 
 
 And he was really riveted. The family had his back ce- 
 
186 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 mented, and a great rivet was passed through his neck; he 
 was as good as new, only he could no longer nod. 
 
 "It seems you have become proud since you fell to 
 pieces," said the Billygoat-legs-Lieutenant-and-Major-Gen- 
 eral-War-Commander-Sergeant. "I don't think you have 
 any reason to give yourself such airs. Am I to have her, 
 or am I not?" 
 
 And the Chimney-Sweeper and the little Shepherdess 
 looked at the old Chinaman most piteously, for they were 
 afraid he might nod. But he could not do that, and it 
 was irksome to him to tell a stranger that he always had 
 a rivet in his neck. And so the porcelain people remained 
 together, and loved one another until they broke. 
 
 THE OLD STREET LAMP. 
 
 Did you ever hear the story of the old Street Lamp? It 
 is not very remarkable, but it may be listened to for once 
 in a way. 
 
 It was a very honest old Lamp, that had done its work for 
 many, many years, but which was now to be pensioned off. 
 It hung for the last time to its post, and gave light to the 
 street. It felt as an old dancer at the theater, who is danc- 
 ing for the last time, and who to-morrow will sit forgotten 
 in her garret. The Lamp was in great fear about the mor- 
 row, for it knew that it was to appear in the council house, 
 and to be inspected by the mayor and the council, to see if it 
 were fit for further service or not. 
 
 And then it was to be decided whether it was to show its 
 light in future for the inhabitants of some suburb, or in the 
 country in some manufactory; perhaps it would have to go 
 at once into an iron foundry to be melted down. In this last 
 case anything might be made of it; but the question whether 
 it would remember, in its new state, that it had been a Street 
 Lamp, troubled it terribly. Whatever might happen, this 
 much was certain, that it would be separated from the 
 watchman and his wife, whom it had got to look upon as 
 quite belonging to its family. When the lamp had been hung 
 up for the first time the watchman was a young, sturdy 
 man; it happened to be the very evening on which he en- 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 187 
 
 tered on his office. Yes, that was certainly a long time ago, 
 when it first became a Lamp and he a watchman. The 
 wife was a little proud in those days. Only in the evening, 
 when she went by, she deigned to glance at the Lamp; in 
 the daytime never. But now, in these later years, when all 
 three, the watchman, his wife, and the Lamp, had grown 
 old, the wife had also tended it^ cleaned it, and provided it 
 with oil. The two people were thoroughly honest; never 
 had they cheated the Lamp O'f a single drop of the oil pro- 
 vided for it. 
 
 It was the Lamp's last night in the street, and to-morrow 
 it was to go to the council house — those were two dark 
 thoughts! No wonder that it did not burn brightly. But 
 many other thoughts passed through its brain. On what a 
 number of events had it shone — how much it had seen ! Per- 
 haps as much as the mayor and the whole council had 
 beheld. But it did not give utterance to these thoughts, 
 for it was a good, honest old Lamp, that would not will- 
 ingly hurt anyone, and least of all those in authority. Many 
 things passed through its mind, and at times its light flashed 
 up. In such moments it had a feeling that it, too, would be 
 remembered. 
 
 "There was that handsome young man — it is certainly a 
 long while ago — he had a letter on pink paper with a gilt 
 edge. It was so prettily written, as if by a lady's hand. 
 Twice he read it, and kissed it, and looked up to me with 
 eyes which said plainly, T am the happiest of men!' Only 
 he and I know what was written in this first letter from his 
 true love. Yes, I remember another pair of eyes. It is won- 
 derful how our thoughts fly about! There was a funeral 
 procession in the street; the young, beautiful lady lay in 
 the decorated hearse, in a coffin adorned with flowers and 
 wreaths; and a number of torches quite darkened my light. 
 The people stood in crowds by the houses, and all followed 
 the procession. But when the torches had passed from be- 
 fore my face, and I looked round, a single person stood 
 leaning against my post, weeping. I shall never forget 
 the mournful eyes that looked up to me!" 
 
 This and similar thoughts occupied the old Street Lan- 
 tern, which shone to-night for the last time. 
 
 The sentry, relieved from his post, at least knows who is 
 to succeed him, and may whisper a few words to him; but 
 
188 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 the Lamp did not know its successor; and yet it might have 
 given a few useful hints with respect to rain and fog, and 
 some information as to how far the rays of the moon lit up 
 the pavement, from what direction the wind usually came, 
 and much more of the same kind. 
 
 On the bridge of the gutter stood three persons who 
 wished to introduce themselves to the Lamp, for they 
 thought the Lamp itself could appoint its successor. The 
 first was a herring's head, that could gleam with light in the 
 darkness. He thought it would be a great saving of oil 
 if they put him upon the post. Number Two was a piece 
 of rotten wood, which also glimmers in the dark. He con- 
 ceived himself descended from an old stem, once the pride 
 of the forest. The third person was a glowworm. Where 
 this one had come from the Lamp could not imagine; but 
 there it was, and it could give light. But the rotten wood 
 and the herring's head swore by all that was good that it 
 only gave light at certain times, and could not be brought 
 into competition with themselves. 
 
 The old Lamp declared that not one of them gave suffi- 
 cient light to fill the office of a street lamp; but not one of 
 them would believe this. When they heard that the Lamp 
 had not the office to give away, they were very glad of it, 
 and declared that the Lamp was too decrepit to make a 
 good choice. 
 
 At the same moment the Wind came careering from the 
 corner of the street, and blew through the air-holes of the 
 old Lamp. 
 
 "What's this I hear?" he asked. "Are you to go away 
 to-morrow? Do I see you for the last time? Then I must 
 make you a present at parting. I will blow into your brain- 
 box in such way that you shall be able in future not only to 
 remember everything you have seen and heard, but that 
 you shall have such light within 3^ou as shall enable you to 
 see all that is read of or spoken of you in your presence." 
 
 "Yes, that is really much, very much !" said the old Lamp. 
 "I thank you heartily. I only hope I shall not be melted 
 down." 
 
 "That is not likely to happen at once," said the Wind. 
 "Now I will blow a memory into you : if you receive several 
 presents of this kind, you may pass your old days very 
 agreeably," 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 189 
 
 "If I am only not melted down!" said the Lamp again. 
 "Or should I retain my memory even in that case?" 
 
 "Be sensible, old Lamp/' said the Wind. And he blew, 
 and at that moment the Moon stepped fortli from behind 
 the clouds. 
 
 "What will you give the old Lamp?" asked the Wind. 
 
 "I'll give nothing," replied the Moon. "I am on the wane, 
 and the lamps never lighted me; but on the contrary, I've 
 often given light for the lamps." 
 
 And with these words the Moon hid herself again behind 
 the clouds, to be safe from further importunity. 
 
 A Drop now fell upon the Lamp, as if from the roof; but 
 the Drop explained that it came from the clouds, and was a 
 present — perhaps the best present possible. 
 
 "I shall penetrate you so completely that you shall re- 
 ceive the faculty, if you wish it, to turn into rust in one 
 night, and to crumble into dust." 
 
 The Lamp considered this a bad present, and the Wind 
 thought so too. 
 
 "Does no one give more? Does no one give more?" it 
 blew as loud as it could. 
 
 Then a bright shooting star fell down, forming a long, 
 bright stripe. 
 
 "What was that?" cried the Herring's Head. "Did not a 
 star fall? I really think it went into the Lamp! Certainly 
 if such high-born personages try for this office, we may say 
 good-night and betake ourselves home." 
 
 And so they did, all three. But the old Lamp shed a mar- 
 velous strong light around. 
 
 "That was a glorious present," it said. "The bright stars 
 which I have always admired, and which shine as I could 
 never shine, though I shone with all my might, have no- 
 ticed me, a poor old Lamp, and have sent me a present, by 
 giving me the faculty that all I remember and see as clearly 
 as if it stood before me, shall also be seen by all whom I 
 love. And in this lies the true pleasure; for joy that we can 
 not share with others is only half enjoyed.'' 
 
 "That sentiment does honor to your heart," said the Wind. 
 "But for that wax hghts are necessary. If these are not lit 
 up in you, your rare faculties will be of no use to others. 
 Look you, the stars did not think of that; they take you 
 
190 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 and every other light for wax. But I will go down." And 
 he went down. 
 
 "Good heavens! wax lights!" exclaimed the Lamp. "I 
 never had those till now, nor am I likely to get them! — If 
 I am only not melted down!'' 
 
 The next day — yes, it will be best that we pass over the 
 next day. The next evening the Lamp was resting in a 
 grandfather's chair. And guess where! In the watchman's 
 dwelling. He had begged as a favor of the mayor and coun- 
 cil that he might keep the Street Lamp, in consideration of 
 his long and faithful service, for he himself had put up and 
 lit the lantern for the first time on the first day of entering on 
 his duties four and twenty years ago. He looked upon it as 
 his child, for he had no other. And the Lamp was given to 
 him. 
 
 Now it lay in the great armchair by the warm stove. It 
 seemed as if the Lamp had grow bigger, now that it occu- 
 pied the chair all alone. 
 
 The old people sat at supper, and looked kindly at the old 
 Lamp, to whom they would willingly have granted a place 
 at their table. 
 
 Their dwelling was certainly only a cellar two yards be- 
 low the footway, and one had to cross a stone passage to get 
 into the room. But within it was very comfortable and 
 warm, and strips of list had been nailed to the door. Every- 
 thing looked clean and neat, and there were curtains round 
 the bed and the little windows. On the window-sill stood 
 two curious flower-pots, which sailor Christian had brought 
 home from the East, or West Indies. They were only of 
 clay, and represented two elephants. The backs of these 
 creatures had been cut off; and instead of them bloomed 
 from within the earth with which one elephant was filled, 
 some very excellent chives, and that was the kitchen-gar- 
 den; out of the other grew a great geranium, and that was 
 the flower-garden. On the wall hung a great colored print 
 representing the Congress of Vienna. There you had all 
 the Kings and Emperors at once. A clock with heavy 
 weights went "tick! tick!" and in fact it always went too 
 fast: but the old people declared this was far better than if 
 it went too slow. They ate their supper, and the Street 
 Lamp lay, as I have said, in the armchair close beside the 
 Stove. It seemed to the Lamp as if the whole world had 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 191 
 
 been turned round. But when the old watchman looked at 
 it, and spoke of all that they two had gone through in rain 
 and in fog, in the bright short nights of summer and in the 
 long winter nights, when the snow beat down, and one 
 longed to be at home in the cellar, then the old Lamp found 
 its wits again. It saw everything as clearly as if it was hap- 
 pening then; yes, the Wind has kindled a capital light for it. 
 
 The old people were very active and industrious; not a 
 single hour was wasted in idleness. On Sunday afternoon 
 some book or other was brought out; generally a book of 
 travels. And the old man read aloud about Africa, about 
 the great woods, with elephants running about wild; and 
 the woman listened intently, and looked furtively at the clay 
 elephants which served for flower-pots. 
 
 "I can almost imagine it to myself!" said she. 
 
 And the Lamp wished particularly that a wax candle had 
 been there, and could be lighted up in it; for then the old 
 woman would be able to see everything to the smallest de- 
 tail, just as the Lamp saw it — ^the tall trees with great 
 branches all entwined, the naked black men on horseback, 
 and whole droves of elephants crashing through the reeds 
 with their broad clumsy feet. 
 
 "Of what use are all my faculties if I can't obtain a wax 
 light?" sighed the Lamp. "They have only oil and tallow 
 candles, and that's not enough." 
 
 One day a great number of wax candle-ends came down 
 into the cellar: the larger pieces were burned, and the 
 smaller ones the old woman used for waxing her thread. 
 So there were wax candles enough; but no one thought of 
 putting a little piece into the Lamp. 
 
 "Here I stand with my rare faculties!" thought the 
 Lamp. "I carry everything with me, and cannot let them 
 partake of it ; they don't know that I am able to cover these 
 white walls with the most gorgeous tapestry, to change 
 them into noble forests, and all that they can possibly 
 wish." 
 
 The Lamp, however, was kept neat and clean, and stood 
 all shining in a corner, where it caught the eyes of all. 
 Strangers considered it a bit of old rubbish; but the old peo- 
 ple did not care for that; they loved the Lamp. 
 
 One day — it was the old watchman's birthday — the old 
 
 -#^^ 
 
192 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES, 
 
 woman approached the Lantern, smihng to herself, and 
 said: 
 
 "I'll make an illumination to-day in honor of my old 
 man!" 
 
 And the Lamp rattled its metal cover, for it thought. 
 "Well, at last there will be a light within me." But only oil 
 was produced, and no wax light appeared. The Lamp 
 burned throughout the whole evening, but nov>? understood, 
 only too well, that the gift of the stars v^^ould be a hidden 
 treasure for all its life. Then it had a dream: for one pos- 
 sessing its rare faculties to dream was not difficult. It seemed 
 as if the old people were dead, and itself had been taken to 
 the ironfoundry to be melted down. It felt as m.uch alarmed 
 as on that day when it was to appear in the council-house 
 to be inspected by the mayor and council. But though the 
 power had been given to it to fall into rust and dust at will, 
 it did not use this power. It was put in the furnace, and 
 turned into an iron candlestick, as fair a candlestick as you 
 would desire — one on which wax lights were to be burned. 
 It had received the form of an angel holding a great nose- 
 gay; and the vv^ax light was to be placed in the miiddle of the 
 nosegay. 
 
 The candlestick had a place assigned to it on a green 
 writing table. The room was very comfortable; many books 
 stood round about the walls, which were hung with beauti- 
 ful pictures; it belonged to a poet. Everything that he 
 wrote or composed showed itself round about him. Nature 
 appears sometimes in thick dark forescs, sometimes in beau- 
 tiful meadows, where the storks strutted about, sometimes 
 again in a ship sailing on the foaming ocean, or in the blue 
 sky with all its stars. 
 
 "What faculties lie hidden in me!" said the old Lamp, 
 when it awoke. 'T could almost wish to be melted down! 
 But no! that cannot be so long as the old people live. They 
 love me for myself; they have cleaned me and brought me 
 oil. I am as well off now as the whole Congress, in look- 
 ing at which they also take pleasure." 
 
 And from that time it enjoyed more inward peace; and 
 the honest old Street Lamp had well deserved to enjoy it. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES.. 193 
 
 THE LOVERS. 
 
 A Whip-Top and a little Ball were together in a drawer 
 among some other toys; and the Top said to the Ball, 
 "Shall we not be bridegroom and bride, as we live together 
 in the same box?" 
 
 But the Ball, which had a coat of morocco leather, and 
 was just as conceited as any fine lady, would make no an- 
 swer to such a proposal. 
 
 Next day the little boy came to whom the toys belonged; 
 he painted the Top red and yellow, and hammered a brass 
 nail into it; and it looked splendid when the Top turned 
 round ! 
 
 "Look at me!" he cried to the Ball. "What do you say 
 now? Shall v^^e not be engaged to each other? We suit one 
 another so well! You jump and I dance! No one could 
 be happier than we two should be." 
 
 "Indeed! Do you think so?" replied the little Ball. "Per- 
 haps you do not know my papa and mamma were morocco 
 slippers, and that I have a Spanish cork inside me?" 
 
 "Yes, but I am made of mahogany," said the Top; "and 
 the mayor himself turned me. He has a turning lathe of his 
 own, ana it amuses him greatly." 
 
 "Can I depend upon that?" asked the little Ball. 
 
 "May I never be whipped again if it is not true!" replied 
 the Top. 
 
 "You can speak well for yourself," observed the Ball, "but 
 I cannot grant your request. I am as good as engaged to 
 a swallow; every time I leap up into the air she puts her 
 head out of her nest and says, 'Will you?' And now I have 
 silently said 'Yes,' and that is as good as half engaged; but 
 I prom.ise I will never forget you." 
 
 "Yes, that will be much good!" said the Top. 
 
 And they spoke no more to each other. 
 
 The next day the Ball was taken out by the boy. The 
 Top saw how it flew high into the air, like a bird ; at last one 
 could no longer see it. Each time it came back again, but 
 gave a high leap when it touched the earth, and that was 
 done either from its longing to mount up again, or because 
 13 
 
194 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 it had a Spanish cork in its body. But the ninth time the 
 httle Ball remained absent, and did not come back again; 
 and the boy sought and sought, but it was gone. 
 
 "I know very well where it is!" sighed the Top. "It is in 
 the swallow's nest, and has married the swallow." 
 
 The more the Top thought of this, the more it longed for 
 the Ball. Just because it could not get the Ball, its love in- 
 creased; and the fact that the Ball had chosen another 
 formed a peculiar feature in the case. So the Top danced 
 round and hummed, but always thought of the little Ball, 
 which became more and more beautiful in his fancy. Thus 
 several years went by, and now it was an old love. 
 
 And the Top was no longer young! But one day he was 
 gilt all over; never had he looked so handsome; he was now 
 a golden Top, and sprang till he hummed again. Yes, that 
 was something worth seeing! But all at once he sprang up 
 too high, and — he was gone. 
 
 They looked and looked, even in the cellar^ but he was 
 not to be found. Where could he be? 
 
 He had jumped into the dustbox, where all kinds of 
 things were lying: cabbage stalks, sweepings, and dust 
 that had fallen down from the roof. 
 
 "Here's a nice place to lie in! The gilding will soon leave 
 me here. Among what a rabble have I alighted." 
 
 And then he looked sideways at a long, leafless cabbage- 
 stump, and at a curious round thing that looked like an old 
 apple; but it was not an apple — it was an old Ball, which 
 had lain for years in the gutter on the roof, and was quite 
 saturated with water. 
 
 "Thank goodness, here comes one of us, with whom one 
 can talk!" said the little Ball, and looked at the gilt Top. 
 "I am really morocco, worked by maiden's hands, and have 
 a Spanish cork Avithin me; but no one would think it, to 
 look at me. I was very nearly marrying a swallow, but I fell 
 into the gutter on the roof, and have lain there full five 
 years, and become quite wet through. You may believe me; 
 that's a long time for a young girl. 
 
 But the Top said nothing. He thought of his old love; 
 and the more he heard, the clearer it became to him that 
 this was she. 
 
 Then came the servant girl, and wanted to turn out the 
 
 dustbox. 
 
 <4 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 195 
 
 "Aha! there's a gilt Top!" she cried. 
 
 And so the Top was brought again to notice and honor, 
 but nothing was heard of the Httle Ball. And the Top spoke 
 no more of his old love; for that dies away when the be- 
 loved object has lain for five years in a roof gutter and got 
 wet through; yes, one does not know her again when one 
 meets her in the dustbox. 
 
 LITTLE TUK. 
 
 Yes, that was little Tuk. His name was not really Tuk; 
 but when he could not speak plainly, he used to call himself 
 so. It was to mean "Charley," and it does very well if one 
 only knows it. Now, he was to take care of his little sister 
 Gustava, who was much smaller that he, and at the same 
 time he was to learn his lesson; but these two things would 
 not suit well together. The poor boy sat there with his lit- 
 tle sister on his lap, and sang her all kinds of songs that he 
 knew, and every now and then he gave a glance at the 
 geography book that lay open before him: by to-morrow 
 morning he was to know all the towns in Zealand by heart, 
 and to know everything about them that one can well know. 
 
 Now his mother came home, for she had been out, and 
 took little Gustava in her arms. Tuk ran quickly to the 
 window, and read so zealously that he had almost read his 
 eyes out, for it became darker and darker; but his mother 
 had no money to buy candles. 
 
 "There goes the old washerwoman out of the lane yon- 
 der," said his mother, as she looked out of the window. 
 "The poor woman can hardly drag herself along, and now 
 she has to carry the pail of water from the well. Be a good 
 boy, Tuk, and run across, and help the old woman. Won't 
 
 you 
 
 ■?" 
 
 And Tuk ran across quickly, and helped her; but when 
 he came back into the room it had become quite dark. There 
 was nothing said about a candle, and now he had to go to 
 bed, and his bed was an old settle. There he lay, and 
 thought of his geography lesson, and of Zealand, and of all 
 the master had said. He ought certainly to have read it 
 again, but he could not do that. So he put the geography 
 
196 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 book under his pillow^ because he had heard that this is a 
 very good way to learn one's lesson; but one cannot depend 
 upon it. There he lay, and thought and thought; and all 
 at once he fancied someone kissed him upon his eyes and 
 mouth. He slept, and yet he did not sleep; it was just as if 
 the old washerwoman were looking at him with her kind 
 eyes, and saying: 
 
 "It would be a great pity if you did not know your les- 
 son to-morrow. You have helped me, therefore now I will 
 help you ; and Providence will help us both.'' 
 
 a\ll at once the book began to crawl, crawl about under 
 Tuk's pillow. 
 
 "Kikeliki! Put! put!" It was a Hen that came crawling 
 up, and she came from Kjoge. "I'm a Kjoge hen!" *she 
 said very proudly. 
 
 And then she told him how many inhabitants were in the 
 town, and about the battle that had been fought there, 
 though that was really hardly worth mentioning. 
 
 "Kribli, kribli, plumps!" Something fell down: it was a 
 wooden bird, the parrot from the shooting match at Pras- 
 toe. He said that there were just as many inhabitants yon- 
 der as he had nails in his body; and he was very proud. 
 "Thorwaldsen lived close to me.f Plumps ! Plere I lie very 
 comfortably." 
 
 But now little Tuk no longer lay in bed; on a sudden he 
 was on horseback. Gallop, gallop! hop, hop! and so he 
 went on. A splendidly attired knight, with flowing plume, 
 held him on the front of the saddle, and so they went rid- 
 ing on through the wood of the old town of Wordinborg, 
 and that was a great and very busy town. On the King's 
 castle rose high towers, and the radiance of lights streamed 
 from every window; within was song and dancing, and King 
 Waldemar and the young, gayly dressed maids of honor 
 danced together. Now the morning came on, and so soon 
 as the sun appeared the whole city and the King's castle 
 
 * Kjoge, a little town on K.ioge Bay. Lifting up children bs' 
 putting the two hsnds to the side of their heads is called "show- 
 ing them Kjoge hens." 
 
 t Prastoe, a still smaller town. A few hundred paces from it 
 lies the estate of Nysoe, where Thorwaldsen usually lived when 
 he was in Denmark, and where he executed manj'' immortal 
 works. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 197 
 
 suddenly sank down, one tower falling after another; and 
 at last only one remained standing on the hill where the cas- 
 tle had formerly been;* and the town was very small and 
 poor, and the schoolboys came with their books under their 
 arms, and said, "Two thousand inhabitants," but that was 
 not true, for the town had not so many. 
 
 And little Tuk lay in his bed, as if he dreamed, and yet 
 as if he did not dream; but someone stood close beside 
 him. 
 
 "Little Tuk! little Tuk!" said the voice. It was a sea- 
 man, quite a little personage, as small as if he had been a 
 cadet; but he was not a cadet. "I'm to bring you a oreeting 
 from Corsor; f that is a town which is just in good progress 
 — a lively town that has steamers and mail coaches. In 
 times past they used always to call it ugly, but that is now 
 no longer true. 
 
 " T lie by the seashore,' said Corsor. 'I have high roads 
 and pleasure gardens; and I gave birth to a poet who was 
 witty and entertaining, and that cannot be said of all of 
 them. I wanted once to fit out a ship that was to sail round 
 the world ; but I did not do that, though I might have done 
 it. But I smell deliciously, for close to my gates the loveliest 
 roses bloom.' " 
 
 Little Tuk looked, and it seemed red and green before his 
 eyes; but when the confusion of color had a little passed by, 
 it changed all at once into a wooden declivity close by a bay, 
 and high above it stood a glorious old church with two high 
 pointed towers. Out of this hill flowed springs of water in 
 thick columns, so that there was a continual splashing, and 
 close by sat an old King with a golden crown upon his white 
 head : that was King Hroar of the springs, close by the town 
 of Roeskilde, as it is now called. And up the hill into the 
 old church went all the Kings and Queens of Denmark, 
 hand in hand, all with golden crowns; and the organ played, 
 and the springs plashed. Little Tuk saw all and heard all. 
 
 * Wordinborg, in King Waldemar's time a considerable town, 
 now a place of no importance. Only a lonely tower and a few re- 
 mains of a wall show where the castle once stood. 
 
 t Corsor, on the Great Belt, used to be called the most tire- 
 some of Danish towns before the establishment of steamers; for 
 in those days travelers had often to wait there for a favorable 
 wind. The poet Baggesen was born there. 
 
198 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "Don't forget the towns,"t said King Hroar. 
 
 At once everything had vanished, and whither? It seemed 
 to him hke turning a leaf in a book. And novv^ stood there 
 an old peasant woman, who came from Soroe, where grass 
 grows in the market-place; she had an apron of gray cotton 
 thrown over her head and shoulders, and the apron was 
 very wet; it must have been raining. 
 
 "Yes, that it has!" said she; and she knew many pretty 
 things out of Holberg's plays, and about Waldemar and 
 Absalom. But all at once she cowered down, and wagged 
 her head as if she were about to spring. "Koax!" said she, 
 "it is wet! it is wet! There is a very agreeable death- 
 silence in Soroe!"* Now she changed all at once into a 
 frog — "Koax!" — and then she became an old woman again. 
 "One must dress according to the weather," she said. "It 
 is wet! it is wet! My town is just like a bottle: one goes in 
 at the cork, and must come out again at the rock. In old 
 times I had capital fish, and now I've fresh red cheeked boys 
 in the bottom of the bottle, and they learn wisdom — He- 
 brew, Greek. — Koax!" 
 
 That sounded just like the croak of the frogs, or the sound 
 of someone marching across the moor in great boots; al- 
 ways the same note, so monotonous and wearisome that lit- 
 tle Tuk fairly fell asleep, and that could not hurt him at 
 all. 
 
 But even in this sleep came a dream, or whatever it was. 
 His little sister Gustava with the blue eyes and the fair 
 curly hair was all at once a tall slender maiden, and with- 
 out having wings she could fly; and now they flew over 
 Zealand, over the green forests and the blue lakes. 
 
 "Do you hear the cock crow, little Tuk? Kikeliki! The 
 fowls are flying up out of Kjoge! You shall have a poultry 
 
 $ Roeskilde (Roesquelle, Rose-spring, falsely called Rothschild), 
 once the capital of Denmark. The town took its name from 
 King Hroar and from the many springs in the vicinitj'. In the 
 beautiful cathedral most of the Kings and Queens of Denmark 
 are buried. In Roeskilde the Danish Estates used to assemble. 
 
 * Soroe, a very quiet little town, in a fine situation, surrounded 
 by forests and lakes. Holberg, the Moliere of Denmark, here 
 founded a noble academy. The poets Hanch and Ingman were 
 professors here. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 199 
 
 yard — a great, great poultry yard! You shall not suffer 
 hunger nor need; and you shall hit the bu'd, as the saying 
 is; you shall become a rich and happy man. Your house 
 shall rise up like King Waldemar's tower, and shah be 
 richly adorned with marble statues, like those of Prastoe. 
 You understand me well. Your name shall travel with fame 
 round the whole world, like the ship that was to sail from 
 Corsor." 
 
 "Don't forget the town," said King Hroar. "You will 
 speak well and sensibly, little Tuk; and when at last you 
 descend to your grave, you shall sleep peacefully " 
 
 "As if I lay in Soroe," said Tuk, and he awoke. It was 
 bright morning, and he could not remember his dream. 
 But that was not necessary, for one must not know what is 
 to happen. 
 
 Now he sprang quickly out of his bed, and read his book, 
 and all at once he knew his whole lesson. The old washer- 
 woman, too, put her head in at the door, nodded to him in 
 a friendly way, and said : 
 
 "Thank you, you good child, for your help. May your 
 beautiful dreams come true." 
 
 Little Tuk did not know all what he had dreamed, but 
 there was One above who knew it. 
 
 THE FLAX. 
 
 The Flax stood in blossom; it had pretty little blue 
 flowers, delicate as a moth's wings, and even more delicate. 
 The sun shone on the Flax, and the rain-clouds moistened 
 it, and this was just as good for it as it is for little children 
 when they are washed, and afterward get a kiss from their 
 mother; they become much prettier, and so did the Flax. 
 
 "The people say that I stand uncommonly well," said the 
 Flax, "and that I'm fine and long, and shall make a capital 
 piece of linen. How happy I am! I'm certainly the happiest 
 of beings. How well I am ofif! And I may come to some- 
 thing! How the sunshine gladdens, and the rain tastes good 
 and refreshes me! I'm the happiest of beings." 
 
 "Yes, yes, yes !" said the Hedge-stake, "You don't know 
 
200 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 the world, but we do, for we have knots in us;" and then it 
 creaked out mournfully: 
 
 "Snip-snap--snurre, 
 Bassellurre! 
 The song is done." 
 
 "No, it is not done," said the Flax. "To-morrow the sun 
 will shine, or the rain will refresh us. I feel that I'm grow- 
 ing, I feel that I'm in blossom! I'm the happiest of be- 
 ings." 
 
 But one day the people came and took the Flax by the 
 head and pulled it up by the root. That hurt; and it was 
 laid in water as if they were going to drown it, and then put 
 on the fire as if it was going to be roasted. It was quite 
 fearful ! 
 
 "One can't always have good times,'' said the Flax. "One 
 must make one's own experiences^ and so one gets to know 
 something." 
 
 Bad times certainly came. The Flax was moistened and 
 roasted, and broken and hackled. Yes, it did not even 
 know what the operations were called that they did with it. 
 It was put on the spinning-wheel — whirr! whirr! whirr — it 
 was not possible to collect one's thoughts. 
 
 "I have been uncommonly happy!" it thought in all its 
 pain. "One must be content with the good one has en- 
 joyed! Contented! contented! Oh!" And it continued to 
 say that when it was put into the loom, and until it became 
 a large beautiful piece of linen. All the Flax, to the last 
 stalk, was used in making one piece. 
 
 "But this is quite remarkable! I should never have be- 
 lieved it! How favorable fortune is to me! The Hedge- 
 stake was well informed, truly, with it: 
 
 "(Snip-snap-snurre, 
 Bassellurre! 
 
 The song is not done by any means. Now it's beginning in 
 earnest. That's quite remarkable! If I've suflfered some- 
 thing, I've been made into something! I'm the happiest 
 of all! How strong and fine I am, and how white and long! 
 That's something dififerent from being a mere plant: even 
 if one b?ars flowers, one is not attended to, and only gets 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 201 
 
 watered when it rains. Now I'm attended to and cherished: 
 the maid turns me over every morning, and I get a shower 
 bath from the watering-pot every evening. Yes, the clergy- 
 man's wife has even made a speech about me, and says i'm 
 the best piece in the whole parish. I cannot be happier!" 
 
 Now the linen was taken into the house, and put under 
 the scissors: how they cut and tore it and then pricked it 
 with needles! That was not pleasant; but twelve pieces 
 of body linen, of a kind not often mentioned by name, but 
 indispensable to all people, were made of it — a whole dozen! 
 
 Just look! Now something has really been made of me! 
 So that was my destiny. That's a real blessing. Now I 
 shall be of some use in the world, and that's right, that's 
 a true pleasure! We've been made into twelve things, but 
 yet we're all one and the same; we're just a dozen: how re- 
 markably charming that is!" 
 
 Years rolled on, and now they would hold together no 
 longer. 
 
 'Tt must be over one day," said each piece. 'T would 
 gladly have held together a little longer, but one must not 
 expect impossibilities." 
 
 They were now torn into pieces and fragments. They 
 thought it was all over now, for they were hacked to shreds, 
 and softened and boiled; yes, they themselves did not know 
 all that was done to them; and then they became beautiful 
 white Paper. 
 
 "Now, that is a surprise, and a glorious surprise!" said 
 the Paper. "Now, I'm finer than before, and I shall be writ- 
 ten on: that is remarkable good fortune." 
 
 And really the most beautiful stories and verses were 
 written upon it, and only once there came a blot; that was 
 certainly remarkable good fortune. And the people heard 
 what was upon it; it was sensible and good, and made peo- 
 ple much more sensible and better: there was a great bless- 
 ing in the words that were on this Paper. 
 
 "That is more than I ever imagined when I was a little 
 blue flower in the fields. How could I fancy that I should 
 ever spread joy and knowledge among men? I can't yet 
 understand it myself, but it is really so. I have done noth- 
 ing but what I was obliged with my weak pov/ers to do for 
 my own preservation, and yet I have been promoted from 
 one joy and honor to another. Each time when I think 'the 
 
202 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 song is done,' it begins again in a higher and better way. 
 Now I shall certainly be sent about to journey through the 
 world, so that all people may read me. That cannot be oth- 
 erwise; it's the only probable thing. I've splendid thoughts, 
 as many as I had pretty flowers in the old times. I'm the 
 happiest of beings." 
 
 But the Paper was not sent on its travels ; it was sent to 
 the printer, and everything that was written upon it was set 
 up in type for a book, or rather for many hundreds of books, 
 for in this way a very far greater number could derive pleas- 
 ure and profit from the book than if the one paper on which 
 it was written had run about the world, to be worn out be- 
 fore it had got half-way. 
 
 "Yes, that is certainly the wisest way," thought the 
 Written Paper. "I really did not think of that. I shall stay 
 at home, and be held in honor, just like an old grandfather; 
 and I am really the grandfather of all these books. Now 
 something can be effected: I could not have wandered 
 about thus. He who wrote all this looked at me; every' word 
 flowed from his pen right into me. I am the happiest of 
 all." 
 
 Then the Paper was tied together in a bundle, and thrown 
 into a tub that stood in the wash-house. 
 
 "It's good resting after work," said the Paper. "It is very 
 right that one should collect one's thoughts. Now I'm able 
 for the first time to think of what is in me, and to know one- 
 self is true progress. What will be done with me now? At 
 any rate I shall go forward again; I'm always going for- 
 ward. I've found that out." 
 
 Now, one day all the Paper was taken out and laid by on 
 the hearth ; it was to be burned, for it might not be sold to 
 hucksters to be used for covering for butter and sugar, they 
 said. And all the children in the house stood round about, 
 for they wanted to see the Paper burn, that flamed up so 
 prettily, and afterward one could see many red sparks among 
 the ashes, careering here and there. One after another faded 
 out quick as the wind, and that they called "seeing the chil- 
 dren come out of school," and the last spark was the school- 
 master; one of them thought he had already gone, but at 
 the next moment there came another spark. "There goes 
 the schoolmaster!'' they said. Yes, they all knew about it; 
 they should have known who it was that went there: we 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 203 
 
 shall get to know it, but they did not. All the old Paper, 
 the whole bundle, was laid upon the fire, and it was soon 
 alight. "Ugh!" it said, and burst out into bright flame. 
 Ugh ! that was not very agreeable, but when the whole was 
 wrapped in bright flames these mounted up higher than the 
 Flax had ever been able to lift its little blue flowers, and 
 glittered as the white Linen had never been able to glitter. 
 AH the written letters turned for a moment quite red, and 
 all the words and thoughts turned to flame. 
 
 "Now I'm mounting straight up to the sun," said a voice 
 in the flame; and it was as if a thousand voices said this in 
 unison; and the flames mounted up through the chimney 
 and out at the top, and, more delicate than the flames, in- 
 visible to human eyes, little tiny beings floated there, as 
 many as there had been blossoms on the Flax. They were 
 lighter even than the flames from which they were born; 
 and when the flame was extinguished, and nothing remained 
 of the Paper but black ashes, they danced over it once more, 
 and where they touched the black mass the little red sparks 
 appeared. The children came out of school, and the school- 
 master was the last of all. That was fun ! and the children 
 sang over the dead ashes: 
 
 "iSnip-snap-snurre, 
 Bassellurre! 
 The song is done." 
 
 But the little invisible beings all said: 
 
 "The song is never done, that is the best of all. I know 
 it, and therefore Fm the happiest of all." 
 
 But the children could neither hear that nor understand 
 it, nor ought they, for children must not know everything. 
 
 THE GIRL WHO TROD ON THE LOAF. 
 
 The story of the girl who trod on the loaf to avoid soiling 
 her shoes, and of the misfortune that befell this girl, is well 
 known. It has been written, and even printed. 
 
 The girl's name was Inge: she was a poor child, but proud 
 and presumptuous; there was a bad foundation in her, as 
 
204 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 the saying is. When she was quite a little child, it was her 
 delight to catch flies, and tear off their wings, so as to con- 
 vert them into creeping things. Grown older, she would 
 take cockchafers and beetles, and spit them on pins. Then 
 she pushed a green leaf or a little scrap of paper toward 
 their feet, and the poor creatures seized it, and held it fast, 
 and turned it over and over, struggling to get free from the 
 pin. 
 
 "The cockchafer is reading," Inge would say. "See how 
 he turns the leaf round and round!" 
 
 With years she grew worse rather than better; but she was 
 pretty, and that was her misfortune; otherwise she would 
 have been more sharply reproved than she was. 
 
 "Your headstrong will requires something strong to 
 break it!" her own mother often said. "As a little child, 
 you used to trample on my apron; but I fear you will one 
 day trample on my heart." 
 
 And that is what she really did. 
 
 She was sent into the country, in service in the house of 
 rich people, who kept her as their own child, and dressed 
 her in corresponding style. She looked well, and her pre- 
 sumption increased. 
 
 When she had been there about a year, her mistress said 
 to her, "You ought once to visit your parents, Inge." 
 
 And Inge set out to visit her parents, but it was only to 
 show herself in her native place, and that the people there 
 might see how grand she had become; but when she came 
 to the entrance of the village, and the young husbandmen 
 and maids stood there chatting, and her own mother ap- 
 peared among them, sitting on a stone to rest, and with a 
 faggot of sticks before her that she had picked up in the 
 wood, then Inge turned back, for she felt ashamed that she, 
 who was so finely dressed, should have for a mother a ragged 
 woman who picked up wood in the forest. She did not turn 
 back out of pity for her mother's poverty; she was only 
 angry. 
 
 And another half-year went by, and her mistress said 
 again, "You ought to go to your home, and visit your old 
 parents, Inge. I'll make you a present of a great wheaten 
 loaf that you may give to them : they will certainly be glad 
 to see you again." 
 
 And Inge put on her best clothes, and her new shoes, and 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 205 
 
 drew her skirts around her, and set out, stepping very care- 
 fully, that she might be clean and neat about the feet; and 
 there was no harm in that. But when she came to the place 
 where the footway led across the moor, and where there was 
 mud and puddles, she threw the loaf into the mud, and trod 
 upon it to pass over without wetting her feet. But as she 
 stood there, with one foot upon the loaf and the other up- 
 lifted to step farther, the loaf sank with her, deeper and 
 deeper, till she disappeared altogether, and only a great 
 puddle, from which the bubbles rose, remained where she 
 had been. 
 
 And that's the story. 
 
 But whither did Inge go? She sank into the moor ground, 
 and went down to the Moor Woman, who is always brewing 
 there. The Moor Woman is cousin to the Elf Maidens, 
 who are well known, of whom songs are sung, and whose 
 pictures are orinted; but concerning the Moor Woman it 
 is only known that when the meadows steam in summer- 
 time, it is because she is brewing. Into the Moor Woman's 
 brewery did Inge sink down; and no one can endure that 
 place long. A box of mud is a place compared with the 
 Moor Woman's brewery. Every barrel there has an odor 
 that almost takes away one's senses; and the barrels stand 
 close to each other; and wherever there is a little opening 
 among them, through which one might push one's way, 
 the passage becomes impracticable from the number of 
 damp toads and fat snakes who sit out their time there. 
 Among this company did Inge fall; and all the horrible mass 
 of living, creeping things was so icy cold, that she shud- 
 dered in all her Hmbs, and became stark and stifif. She con- 
 tinued fastened to the loaf, and the loaf drew her down as 
 an amber button draws a fragment of straw. 
 
 The Moor Woman was at home, and on that day there 
 were visitors in the brewery. These visitors were Old Boge)^ 
 and his grandmother, who came to inspect it; and Bogey's 
 grandmother is a venomous old woman, who is never idle; 
 she never rides out to pay a visit without taking her work 
 with her; and accordingly she had brought it on the day in 
 q'jestion. She sewed biting leather to be worked into men's 
 shoes, and which makes them wander about, unable to set- 
 tle anyv/here. She wove webs of lies, and strung together' 
 hastily-spoken words that had fallen to the ground; and all 
 
206 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 this was done for the injury and ruin of mankind. Yes, she 
 knew how to sew, to weave, and to string, this old grand- 
 mother! 
 
 Catching sight of Inge, she put up her double eyeglass, 
 and took another look at the girl. 
 
 "That's a girl who has ability!" she observed, "and I beg 
 you will give me the little one as a memento of my visit 
 here. She'll make a capital statue to stand in my grandson's 
 ante-chamber." 
 
 And Inge was given up to her, and this is how Inge 
 came into Bogey's domain. People don't always go there 
 by the direct path, but they can get there by roundabout 
 routes if they have a tendency in that direction. 
 
 That v/as a never-ending ante-chamber. The visitor be- 
 came giddy who looked forward, and doubly giddy when 
 he looked back, and saw a whole crowd of people, almost 
 utterly exhausted, waiting till the gate of mercy should be 
 opened to them — they had to wait a long time! Great fat, 
 waddling spiders spun webs of a thousand years over their 
 feet, and these webs cut like wire, and bound them 
 like bronze fetters; and, moreover, there was an eternal 
 unrest working in every heart — a miserable unrest. The 
 'miser stood there, and had forgotten the key of his strong 
 box, and he knew the key was sticking in the lock. It would 
 take too long to describe the various sorts of torture that 
 Avere found there together. Inge felt a terrible pain while 
 she had to stand there as a statue, for she was tied fast to the 
 loaf. 
 
 "That's the fruit of wishing to keep one's feet neat 
 and tidy," she said to herself. "Just look how they're all 
 staring at me!" 
 
 Yes, certainly, the eyes of all were fixed upon her, and 
 their evil thoughts gleamed forth from their eyes, and they 
 spoke to one another, moving their lips, from which no 
 sound whatever came forth : they were very horrible to be- 
 hold. 
 
 "It must be a great pleasure to look at me!" thought Inge, 
 "and indeed I have a pretty face and fine clothes." And 
 she turned her eyes, for she could not turn her head, her 
 neck was too stifif for that. But she had not considered how 
 her clothes had been soiled in the Moor Woman's brew- 
 house. Her garments were covered with mud: a snake had 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 207 
 
 fastened in her hair, and dangling down her back; and out 
 of each fold of her frock a great toad looked forth, croak- 
 ing like an asthmatic poodle. That was very disconcerting. 
 "But all the rest of them down here look horrible," she ob- 
 served to herself, and derived consolation from the thought 
 The worst of all was the terrible hunger that tormented 
 her. But could she not stoop and break off a piece of the 
 loaf on which she stood? No, her back was so stiff her 
 hands and arms were benumbed, and her whole body was 
 like a pillar of stone; only she was able to turn her eyes in 
 her head to turn them quite round, so that she could see 
 backward: it was an ugly sight. And then the flies came up, 
 and crept to and fro over her eyes, and she blinked her eyes 
 but the flies would not go away, for they could not fly' 
 their wmgs had been pulled out, so that they were con- 
 verted into creeping insects: it was horrible torment added 
 to^the hunger, for she felt empty, quite, entirely empty 
 
 If this lasts much longer," she said, 'T shall not be able 
 to bear it. 
 
 But she had to bear it, and it lasted on and on. 
 Ihen a hot tear fell down upon her head, rolled over her 
 tace and neck, down on to the loaf on which she stood- and 
 then another tear rolled down, followed by many more 
 Who might be weeping for Inge? Had she not still a 
 mother m the world? The tears of sorrow which a mother 
 weeps for her child always make their way to the child; but 
 they do not relieve it; they only increase its torment. And 
 now to bear this unendurable hunger, and yet not be 
 u UA ^'^^^the. ^oaf on which she stood! She felt as if 
 she had been feeding on herself, and had become like a thin, 
 hollow reed that takes m every sound, for she heard every^ 
 thing that was said of her up in the world, and all that she 
 heard was hard and evil. Her mother, indeed, wept much 
 and sorrowed for her, but for all that she said, "A haughty 
 spirit goes be ore a fall. That was thy ruin, Inge. Thou 
 hast sorely grieved thy mother." ^ 
 
 Her mother and all on earth knew of the sin she had 
 commmed; knew that she had trodden upon the loaf and 
 
 frnrn T vul ?PP;^''^' ^°" ^^^ ^°^herd had seen it 
 irom the hill beside the moor. 
 
 rr^^f^^'^^Hy ^^'^ *^°" grieved 'thy mother, Inge," said the 
 mother; "yes, yes, I thought it would be thus " 
 
208 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "Oh, that I never had been born!" thought Inge: "it 
 would have been far better. But what use is my mother's 
 weeping now?" 
 
 And she heard how her master and mistress, who had kept 
 and cherished her like kind parents, now said she was a 
 sinful child, and did not value the gifts of God, but trampled 
 them under her feet, and that the gates of mercy would only 
 open slowly to her. 
 
 "They should have punished me," thought Inge, "and 
 have driven out the whims I had in my head." 
 
 She heard how a complete song was made about her, a 
 song of the proud girl who trod upon the loaf to keep her 
 shoes clean, and she heard how the song was sung every- 
 where. 
 
 "That I should have to bear so much evil for that!" 
 thought Inge; "the others ought to be punished, too, for 
 their sins. Yes, then there would be plenty of punishing 
 to do. Ah, how I'm being tortured!" 
 
 And her heart became harder than her outward form. 
 
 "Here in this company one can't even become better," 
 she said, "and I don't want to become better! Look how 
 they're all staring at me !" And her heart was full of anger 
 and malice against all men. "Now they've something to 
 talk about at last up yonder. Ah, how I am being tor- 
 tured!" 
 
 And then she heard how her story was told to the little 
 children, and the little ones called her the godless Inge, and 
 said that she was so naughty and ugly that she must be well 
 punished. 
 
 Thus even the children's mouths spoke hard words of her. 
 
 But one day, while grief and hunger gnawed her hollow 
 frame, and she heard her name mentioned and her story told 
 to an innocent child, a little girl, she became aware that the 
 little one burst into tears at the tale of the haughty, vain 
 Inge. 
 
 "But will Inge never come up here again?" asked the 
 little girl. 
 
 And the reply was, "She will never come up again." 
 
 "But if she were to say she was sorrv, and to beg pardon, 
 and say she would never do so again?'' 
 
 "Yes, then she might come; but she vdll not beg pardon," 
 was the reply. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 209 
 
 '■'I should be so glad if she would," said the little girl; and 
 she appeared to be quite inconsolable. "I'll give my doll 
 and all my playthings if she may only come up. It's too 
 dreadful — poor Inge!" 
 
 And these words penetrated to Inge's inmost heart, and 
 seemed to do her good. It was the first time anyone had 
 said "Poor Inge," without adding anything about her faults: 
 a little innocent child was weeping and praying for mercy 
 for her. It made her feel quite strangely, and she herself 
 would gladly have wept, but she could not weep, and that 
 was a torment in itself. 
 
 While years were passing above her, for where she was 
 there was no change, she heard herself spoken of more and 
 more seldom. At last one day a sigh struck on her ear: 
 "Inge, Inge, how you have grieved me! I said how it 
 would be!" It was the last sigh of her dying mother. 
 
 Occasionally she heard her name spoken by her former 
 employers, and they were pleasant words when the woman 
 said, "Shall I ever see thee again, Inge? One knows not 
 what may happen?" 
 
 But Inge knew right well that her good mistress would 
 never come to the place where she was. 
 
 And again time went on — a long, bitter time. Then 
 Inge heard her name pronounced once more, and saw two 
 bright stars that seemed gleaming above her. They were 
 two gentle eyes closing upon earth. So many years had 
 gone by since the little girl had been inconsolable and wept 
 about "poor Inge," that the child had become an old wo- 
 man, and was now to be called home to heaven; and in the 
 last hour of existence, when the events of the whole life 
 stand at once before us, the old woman remembered how as 
 a child she had cried heartily at the story of Inge. 
 
 And the eyes of the old woman closed, and the eye of her 
 soul was opened to look upon the hidden things. She, in 
 whose last thoughts Inge had been present so vividly, saw 
 how deeply the poor girl had sunk, and burst into tears at 
 the sight; in heaven she stood like a child, and wept for 
 poor Inge. And her tears and prayers sounded like an 
 echo in the dark empty space that surrounded the tor- 
 mented, captive soul, and the unhoped-for love from above 
 conquered her, for an angel was weeping for her. Why 
 was this vouchsafed to her? The tormented soul seemed 
 
 14 
 
210 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 to gather in her thoughts every deed she had done on earth, 
 and she, Inge, trembled and wept such tears as she had 
 never yet wept. She was filled with sorrow about herself: 
 it seemed as though the gate of mercy could never open to 
 her; and while in deep penitence she acknowledged this, a 
 beam of light shot radiantly down into the depths to her, 
 with a greater force than that of the sunbeam which melts 
 the snow man the boys have built up ; and quicker than the 
 snowflake melts and becomes a drop of water that falls on 
 the warm lips of a child, the stony form of Inge was changed 
 to mist, and a little bird soared with the speed of lightning 
 upward into the world of men. But the bird was timid and 
 shy toward all things around; he was ashamed of himself, 
 ashamed to encounter any living thing, and hurriedly sought 
 to conceal himself in a dark hole in an old crumbling wall; 
 there he sat cowering, trembling through his whole frame, 
 and unable to utter a sound, for he had no voice. Long he 
 sat there before he could rightly see all the beauty around 
 him; for it was beautiful. The air was fresh and mild, the 
 moon cast its mild radiance over the earth; trees and bushes 
 exhaled fragrance, and it was right pleasant where he sat, 
 and his coat of feathers was clean and pure. How all 
 creation seemed to speak of beneficence and love! The 
 bird wanted to sing of the thoughts that stirred in his breast, 
 but he could not; gladly would he have sung as the cuckoo 
 and the nightingale sang in the springtime. But Heaven, 
 that hears the mute song of praise of the worm, could hear 
 the notes of praise which now trembled in the breast of 
 the bird, as David's psalms were heard before they had fash- 
 ioned themselves into words and song. 
 
 For weeks these toneless songs stirred within the bird; at 
 last the holy Christmas time approached. Tlie peasant who 
 dwelt near set up a pole by the old wall, with some ears of 
 corn bound to the top, that the birds of heaven might have 
 a good meal, and rejoice in the happy, blessed time. 
 
 And on Christmas morning the sun arose and shone upon 
 the ears of corn, which were surrounded by a number of 
 twittering birds. Then out of the hole in the wall streamed 
 forth the voice of another bird, and the bird soared forth 
 from his hiding place; and in heaven it was well known 
 what bird this was. 
 
 It was a hard winter. The ponds were covered with ice, 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 211 
 
 and the beasts of the field and the birds of the air were 
 stinted for food. Our Httle bird soared away over the high 
 road, and in the ruts of the sledges he found here and there 
 a grain of corn, and at the halting places some crumbs. Of 
 these he ate only a few, but he called all the other hungry 
 sparrows around him^ that they, too, might have some food. 
 He flew into the towns, and looked round about; and wher- 
 ever a kind hand had strewn bread on the window sill for 
 the birds, he only ate a single crumb himself, and gave all 
 the rest to the other birds. 
 
 In the course of the winter, the bird had collected so 
 many bread crumbs, and given them to the other birds, 
 that they equaled the weight of the loaf on which Inge had 
 trod to keep her shoes clean; and when the last bread crumb 
 had been found and given, the gray wings of the bird be- 
 came white, and spread far out. 
 
 "Yonder is a sea swallow, flying away across the water," 
 said the children, when they saw the white bird. Now it 
 dived into the sea, and now it rose again into the clear sun- 
 light. It gleamed white; but no one could tell whither it 
 went, though some asserted that it flew straight into the 
 sun. 
 
 THE MONEY PIG. 
 
 In the nursery a number of toys lay strewn about; high 
 up, on the wardrobe, stood the money box, made of clay and 
 purchased of the potter, and it was in the shape of a little 
 pig; of course the pig had a slit in his back, and this slit 
 had been so enlarged with a knife that whole dollar pieces 
 could slip through; and, indeed, two such had slipped into 
 the box, besides a number of pence. The Money Pig was 
 stuffed so full that it could no longer rattle, and that is the 
 highest point of perfection a money pig can attain. There it 
 stood upon the cupboard, high and lofty, looking down 
 upon everything else in the room. It knew very well that 
 what it had in its stomach would have bought all the toys, 
 and that is what we call having self-respect. 
 
 The others thought of that too, even if they did not ex- 
 actly express it, for there were many other things to speak 
 of. One of the drawers was half pulled out, and there lay 
 
212 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 a great, handsome Doll, though she was somewhat old, and 
 her neck had been mended. She looked out and said:' 
 
 "Now we'll play at men and women, for that is always 
 something!" ^ 
 
 And now there was a general uproar, and even the 
 framed prints on the walls turned round and showed that 
 there was a wrong side to them; but they did not do it to 
 protest against the proposal. 
 
 It was late at night; the moon shone through the window 
 frames and afforded the cheapest light. The game was 
 now to begin, and all even the children's Go-Cart which 
 certamly belonged to the coarser playthings, were 'invited 
 to take part in the sport. 
 
 ^^ "Each one has his own peculiar value," said the Go-Cart • 
 we cannot all be noblemen. There must be some who do 
 the work, as the saying is." 
 
 _ The Money Pig was the only one who received a written 
 mvitation, for he was of high standing, and they were 
 afraid he would not accept a verbal message. Indeed, he 
 did not_ answer to say whether he would come, nor did he 
 come: if he was to take a part, he must enjoy the sport from 
 his own home; they were to arrange accordingly, and so 
 they did. 
 
 The little toy theater was now put up in such a way that 
 the Money Pig could look directly in. They wanted to be- 
 gin with a comedy, and afterward there was to be a tea party 
 and a discussion for mental improvement, and with this 
 latter part they began immediately. The Rocking Horse 
 spoke of training and races, the Go-Cart of railwavs and 
 steam power, for all this belonged to their profession 'and it 
 was quite right they should talk of it. The Clock talked 
 politics— ticks— sticks— and knew what was the time of day, 
 though it was whispered he did not go correctly the 
 Bamboo Cane stood there, stiff and proud, for he was con- 
 ceited about his brass ferrule and his silver top, for beino- 
 thus bound above and below; and on the sofa lay two 
 worked Cushions, pretty and stupid, and now the plav be- 
 gan. 
 
 All sat and looked on. and it was requested that the audi- 
 ence should applaud and crack and stamp according as they 
 were gratified. But the Riding Whip said he never cracked 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 213 
 
 for old people, only for young ones who were not yet mar- 
 ried. 
 
 "I crack for everything," said the Cracker. 
 
 All these were the thoughts they had while the play went 
 on. The piece was worthless, but it was well played; all 
 the characters turned their painted side to the audience, for 
 they were so made that they should only be looked at from 
 that side, and not from the other; and all played wonder- 
 fully well, coming out quite beyond the lamps, because the 
 wires were a little too long, but that only made them come 
 out the more. The darned Doll was quite exhausted with 
 excitement — so thoroughly exhausted that she burst at the 
 darned place in her neck, and the Money Pig was so en- 
 chanted in his way that he formed the resolution to do 
 something for one of the players, and to remember him in 
 his will as the one who should be buried with him in the 
 family vault, when matters were so far advanced. 
 
 It was true enjoyment, such true enjoyment that they 
 quite gave up the thoughts of tea, and only carried out the 
 idea of mental recreation. That's what they called playing 
 at men and women ; and there was nothing wrong in it, for 
 they were only playing; and each one thought of himself 
 and of what the Money Pig might think; and the Money 
 Pig thought farthest of all, for he thought of making his 
 will and of his burial. And when might this come to pass? 
 Certainly far sooner than was expected. Crack! it fell 
 down from the cupboard — fell on the ground, and was 
 broken to pieces; and the pennies hopped and danced in 
 comical style: the little ones turned round like tops, and 
 the bigger ones rolled away, particularly the one great 
 silver dollar who wanted to go out into the world. And he 
 came out into the world, and they all succeeded in doing 
 so. And the pieces of the Money Pig were put into the 
 dust bin; but the next day a new Money Pig was standing 
 on the cupboard: it had not yet a farthing in its stomach, 
 and therefore could not rattle, and in this it was like the 
 other. And that was a beginning — and with that we will 
 make an end. 
 
214 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 THE DARNING-NEEDLE. 
 
 There was once a Darning-Needle, who thought herself 
 so fine, she imagined she was an embroidering needle. 
 
 'Take care, and mind you hold me tight!" she said to 
 the Fingers which took her out. "Don't let me fall! If I 
 fall on the ground I shall certainly never be found again, for 
 I am so fine!" 
 
 "That's as it may be," said the Fingers; and they grasped 
 her round the body. 
 
 "See, I'm coming with a train !" said the Darning-Needle, 
 and she drew a long thread ?fter her, but there was no knot 
 in the thread. 
 
 The Fingers pointed the needle just at the cook's slipper, 
 in which the upper leather had burst, and was to be sewn 
 together. 
 
 "That's vulgar work," said the Darning-Needle. "I shall 
 never get through. I'm breaking! I'm breaking!" And 
 she really broke. ''Did I not say so?" said the Darning- 
 Needle; "I'm too fine." 
 
 "Now it's quite useless," said the Fingers; but they were 
 obliged to hold her fast, all the same; for the cook dropped 
 some sealing wax upon the needle, and pinned her handker- 
 chief together with it in front. 
 
 "So now I'm a breastpin!" said the Darning-Needle. "I 
 knew very well that I should come to honor: when one is 
 something, one comes to something." 
 
 And she laughed quietly to 'nerself — and one can never see 
 when a Darning-Needle laughs. There she sat, as proud as 
 if sTie was in a state coach, and looked all about her. 
 
 May I be permitted to ask if you are of gold?" she in- 
 quired of the pin, her neighbor. "You have a very pretty 
 appearance, and a peculiar head, but it is only little. You 
 must take pains to grow, for it's not everyone that has seal- 
 ing wax dropped upon him." 
 
 And the Darning-Needle drew herself up so proudly that 
 she fell out of the handkerchief right into the sink, which 
 the cook was rinsing out. 
 
 "Now we're going on a journey," said the Darning- 
 Needle. "If I only don't get lost." 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 215 
 
 But she really was lost. 
 
 "I'm too fine for this world," she observed, as she lay in 
 the gutter. "But I know who I am, and there's always 
 something in that." 
 
 So the Darning-Needle kept her proud behavior, and did 
 not lose her good humor. And things of many kinds swam 
 over her, chips and straws and pieces of old newspapers, 
 
 "Only look how they sail!" said the Darning-Needle. 
 "They don't know what is under them! I'm here; I remain 
 firmly here. See, there goes a chip thinking of nothing in 
 the world but of himself — of a chip ! There's a straw going 
 by now. How he turns! How he twirls about! Don't 
 think only of yourself; you might easily run up against a 
 stone. There swims a bit of newspaper. What's written 
 upon it has long been forgotten, and yet it gives itself airs. 
 I sit quietly and patiently here. I know who I am, and I 
 shall remain what I am." 
 
 One day something lay close beside her that glittered 
 splendidly; then the Darning-Needle believed that it was 
 a diamond; but it was a Bit of broken Bottle; and because it 
 shone, the Darning-Needle spoke to it, introducing herself 
 as a breastpin. 
 
 "I suppose you are a diamond?" she observed. 
 
 "Why, yes, something of that kind." 
 
 And then each believed the other to be a very valuable 
 thing; and they began speaking about the world, and how 
 very conceited it was. 
 
 "I have been in a lady's box, said the Darning-Needle^ 
 "and this lady was a cook. She had five fingers on each 
 hand, and I never saw anything so conceited as those five 
 fingers. And yet they were only there that they might take 
 me out of the box, and put me back into it." 
 
 "Were they of good birth?" asked the Bit of Bottle. 
 
 "No, indeed," replied the Darning-Needle, "but very 
 haughty. There were five brothers, all of the Finger family. 
 They kept very proudly together, though they were of dif- 
 ferent lengths: the outermost, the thumbling, was short 
 and fat; he walked out in front of the ranks, and only had 
 one joint in his back, and could only make a single bow; but 
 he said if he were hacked off from a man, that man was use- 
 less from service in war. Dainty-mouth, the second finger, 
 thrust himself into sweet and sour, pointed to the sun and 
 
216 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 moon, and gave the impression when they wrote. Long- 
 man, the third, looked at all the others over his shoulder. 
 Goldborder, the fourth, went about with a golden belt round 
 his waist; and little Playman did nothing at all, and was 
 proud of it. There was nothing but bragging among them, 
 and therefore I went away." 
 
 "And now we sit here and glitter!" said the Bit of Bot- 
 tle. 
 
 At that moment more water came into the gutter, so that 
 it overflowed, and the Bit of Bottle was carried away. 
 
 "So, he is disposed of," observed the Darning-Needle. 
 "I remain here, I am too fine. But that's my pride, and my 
 pride is honorable." And proudly she sat there, and had 
 many great thoughts. "I could almost believe I had been 
 born of a sunbeam, I'm so fine. It really appears to me as 
 if the sunbeam.s were ahvays seeking for me under the water. 
 Ah! I'm so fine that my mother cannot find me. If I had 
 my old eye, which broke off, I think I should cry; but, no, 
 I should not do that; it's not genteel to cry." 
 
 One day a couple of street boys lay grubbing in the 
 gutter, where they sometimes found old nails, farthings, and 
 similar treasures. It was dirty work, but they took great 
 delight in it. 
 
 "Oh!" cried one, who had pricked himself with the Darn- 
 ing-Needle. "There's a fellow for you." 
 
 "I'm not a fellow, I'm a young lady," said the Darning- 
 Needle. 
 
 But nobody listened to her. The sealing wax had come 
 off, and she had turned black; but black makes one look 
 slender, and she thought herself finer even than before. 
 
 "Here comes an egg-shell sailing along," said the boys; 
 and they stuck the Darning-Needle fast into the egg-shell. 
 
 "White walls, and black myself! that looks well," re- 
 remarked the Darning Needle. "Now one can see me. I 
 only hope I shall not be seasick!" But she was not seasick 
 at all. "It is good against seasickness, if one has a steel 
 stomach, and does not forget that one is a little more than 
 an ordinar}' person! Now my seasickness is over. The finer 
 one is, the more one can bear." 
 
 "Crack!" went the egg-shell, for a handbarrow went over 
 her. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 217 
 
 "Good Heavens, how it crushes one!" said the Darning- 
 Needle. "I'm getting seasick now — I'm quite sick." 
 
 But she was not really sick, though the handbarrow went 
 over her; she lay there at full length, and there she may 
 lie. 
 
 THE FIR TREE. 
 
 Out in the forest stood a pretty little Fir Tree. It had a 
 good place; it could have sunlight, air there was in plenty, 
 and all around grew many larger comrades — pines as well 
 as firs. But the little Fir Tree wished ardently to become 
 greater. It did not care for the warm sun and the fresh air; 
 it took no notice of the peasant children, who went about 
 talking together, when they had come out to look for straw- 
 berries and raspberries. Often they came with a whole pot- 
 full, or had strung berries on a straw; then they would sit 
 down by the little Fir Tree and say, "How pretty and small 
 that one is!" and the Fir Tree did not like to hear that at 
 all. 
 
 Next year he had grown a great joint, and the following 
 year he was longer still, for in fir trees one can always tell 
 by the number of rings they have how many years they 
 have been growing. 
 
 "Oh, if I were only as great a tree as the other!" sighed 
 the little Fir, "then I would spread my branches far around, 
 and look out from my crown into the wide world. The birds 
 would then build nests in my boughs, and when the wind 
 blew I could nod just as grandly as the others yonder." 
 
 It took no pleasure in the sunshine, in the birds, and in 
 the red clouds that went sailing over him morning and even- 
 ing. 
 
 When it was winter, and the snow lay all around, white 
 and sparkling, a hare v*'ould often come jumping along, and 
 spring right over the little Fir Tree. Oh! this made him so 
 angry. But two winters went by, and when the third came 
 the little Tree had grown so tall that the hare was obliged 
 to run round it. 
 
 "Oh! to grow, to grow, and become old; that's the only 
 fine thing in the world," thought the Tree. 
 
 In the autumn woodcutters always came and felled a few 
 
218 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 of the largest trees; that was done this year too, and the lit- 
 tle Fir tree, that was now quite well grown, shuddered with 
 fear, for the great stately trees fell to the ground with a 
 crash, and their branches were cut off, so that the trees 
 looked quite naked, long, and slender — they could hardly be 
 recognized. But then they were laid upon wagons, and 
 horses dragged them away out of the wood. Where were 
 they going? What destiny awaited them? 
 
 In the spring, when the Swallows and the Stork came, 
 the Tree asked them, "Do you know where they were taken 
 Did you not meet them?" 
 
 The Swallows knew nothing about it, but the Stork looked 
 thoughtful, nodded his head, and said: 
 
 "Yes, I think so. I met many new ships when I flew out 
 of Egypt; on the ships were stately masts; I fancy these 
 were the trees. They smelt like fir. I can assure you they're 
 stately — very stately." 
 
 "Oh that I were only big enough to go over the sea! 
 What kind of thing is this sea, and how does it look?" 
 
 "It would take too long to explain all that," said the 
 Stork, and he went away. 
 
 "Rejoice in thy youth," said the Sunbeams; "rejoice in thy 
 fresh growth, and in the young life that is within thee." 
 
 And the wind kissed the Tree, and the dew wept tears 
 upon it; but the Fir Tree did not understand that. 
 
 When Christmas-time approached, quite young trees were 
 felled, sometimes trees which were neither so old nor so 
 large as this Fir Tree, that never rested, but always wanted 
 to go away. These young trees, which were always the most 
 beautiful, kept all their branches; they were put upon 
 wagons, and horses dragged them away out of the wood. 
 
 'Where are they all going?" asked the Fir Tree. "They 
 are not greater than I — indeed, one of them was much 
 smaller. Why do they keep all their branches? Whither 
 are they taken?" 
 
 ''We know that! We know that!" chirped the Sparrows. 
 "Yonder in the town we looked in at the windows. We 
 know where they go. Oh! they are dressed up in the great- 
 est pomp and splendor that can be imagined. We have 
 looked in at the windows, and have perceived that they are 
 planted in the middle of a warm room, and adorned with the 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 219 
 
 most beautiful things — gilt apples, honey-cakes, playthings, 
 and many hundreds of candles." 
 
 "And then?" asked the Fir Tree, and trembled through 
 all its branches. "And then? What happens then?" 
 
 "Why, we have not seen anything more. But it was 
 incomparable." 
 
 "Perhaps I may be destined to tread this glorious path 
 one day!" cried the Fir Tree, rejoicingly. "That is even bet- 
 ter than traveling across the sea. How painfully I long for 
 it! If it were only Christmas now! Now I am great and 
 grown up, like the rest who were led away last year. Oh, 
 if I were only on the carriage! If I were only in the warm 
 room, among all the pomp and splendor! And then? Yes, 
 then something even better will come, something far more 
 charming, or else why should they adorn me so? There 
 must be something grander, something greater still to come; 
 but what? Oh! I'm sufifering, I'm longing! I don't know 
 myself what is the matter with me!" 
 
 "Rejoice in us," said Air and Sunshine. "Rejoice in thy 
 fresh youth here in the woodland." 
 
 But the Fir Tree did not rejoice at all, but it grew and 
 grew; winter and summer it stood there, green, dark green. 
 The people who saw it said, "That's a handsome tree!" and 
 at Christmas-time it was felled before anyone of the others. 
 The ax cut deep into its marrow, and the tree fell to the 
 ground with a sigh ; it felt a pain, a sensation of faintness, and 
 could not think at all of happiness, for it was sad at parting 
 from it home, from the place where it had grown up; it 
 knew that it should never again see the dear old compan- 
 ions, the little bushes and flowers all round — perhaps not 
 even the birds. The parting was not at all agreeable. 
 
 The Tree only came to itself when it was vmloaded in a 
 yard, with other trees, and heard a man say: 
 
 "This one is famous ; we only want this one !" 
 
 Now two servants came in gay liveries, and carried the 
 Fir Tree into a large, beautiful saloon. All around the walls 
 hung pictures, and by the great stove stood large Chinese 
 vases with lions on the covers; there were rocking-chairs, 
 silken sofas, great tables covered with picture books, and 
 toys worth a hundred times a hundred dollars, at least the 
 children said so. And the Fir Tree was put into a great tub, 
 filled with sand; but no one could see that it was a tub, 
 
220 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 for it was hung round with green cloth, and stood on a large, 
 many-colored carpet. O'h, how the Tree trembled! 
 What was to happen now? The servants, and the young 
 ladies also, decked it out. On one branch they hung lit- 
 tle nets, cut out of colored paper; every net was filled with 
 sweetmeats; golden apples and walnuts hung down, as if 
 red, v/hite, and blue, were fastened to the different boughs, 
 they grew there, and more than a hundred little candles, 
 Dolls that looked exactly like real people — the Tree had 
 never seen such before — swung among the foliage, and high 
 on the summit of the Tree was fixed a tinsel star. It was 
 splendid, particularly splend'd. 
 
 "This evening," said all, "this evening it will shine." 
 
 "Oh," thought the Tree, "that it were evening already! 
 Oh, that the lights may be soon lit up! When may that be 
 done? I wonder if trees will come out of the forest to look 
 at me? Will the Sparrows fly against the panes? Shall I 
 grow fast here, and stand adorned in summer and winter?" 
 
 Yes, he did not guess badly. But he had a complete 
 backache from m.ere longing, and the backache is just as 
 bad for a tree as the headache for a person. 
 
 At last the candles were lighted. What a brilliance, what 
 splendor! The Tree trembled so in all its branches that one 
 of the candles set fire to a green twig, and it was scorched. 
 
 "Heaven preserve us!" cried the young ladies; and they 
 hastily put the fire out. 
 
 Now the Tree might not even tremble. Oh, that was ter- 
 rible! It was so afraid of setting fire to some of its orna- 
 ments, and it was quite bewildered with all the brilliance. 
 A-nd now the folding doors were thrown open, and a number 
 of children rushed in as if they would have overturned the 
 whole Tree; the older people followed more deliberately. 
 The little ones stood quite silent, but only for a minute; 
 then they shouted till the room rang: they danced gleefully 
 round the Tree, and one present after another was plucked 
 from it. 
 
 "What are they about?" thought the Tree. "What's go- 
 ing to be done?" 
 
 And the candles burned down to the twigs, and as they 
 burned down they were extinguished, and then the chil- 
 dren received permission to plunder the Tree. Oh! they 
 rushed in upon it, so that every branch cracked again: if 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 221 
 
 it had not been fastened by the top and by the golden star 
 to the ceiHng, it would have fallen down. 
 
 The children danced about with their pretty toys. No 
 one looked at the Tree except one old man, who came up 
 and peeped among the branches, but only to see if a fig or 
 an apple had not been forgotten. 
 
 "A story! A story!" shouted the children; and they drew 
 a little fat man toward the tree; and he sat down just be- 
 neath it — "for then we shall be in the green wood," said he, 
 "and the Tree may have the advantage of listening to my 
 tale. But I can only tell one. Will you hear the story of 
 Ivede- Avede, or of Klumpey-Dumpey, who fell downstairs, 
 and still was raised up to honor and married the Princess?" 
 
 "Ivede-Avede!" cried some, "Klumpey-Dumpey!" cried 
 others, and there was a great crying and shouting. Only 
 the Fir Tree v/as quite silent, and thought, "Shall T not be in 
 it? Shall I have nothing to do in it?" But he had been in 
 the evening's amusement, and had done what was required 
 of him. 
 
 And the fat man told about Klumpey-Dumpey who fell 
 downstairs, and yet was raised to honor and married the 
 Princess. And the children clapped their hands, and cried, 
 "Tell another! tell another!" for they wanted to hear about 
 Ivere- Avede; but they only got the story of Klumpey- 
 Dumpey. The Fir Tree stood quite silent and thoughtful; 
 never had the birds in the wood told such a story as that. 
 Klumpey-Dumpey fell downstairs, and yet came to honor 
 and married the Princess! 
 
 "Yes, so it happens in the world !" thought the Fir Tree, 
 and believed it must be true, because that was such a nice 
 man who told it. "Well, who can know? Perhaps I shall 
 fall downstairs, too, and marry a Princess!" And it looked 
 forward vv^ith pleasure to being adorned again, the next 
 evening, with candles and toys, gold and fruit. "To-mor- 
 row I shall not tremble," it thought. 
 
 "I will rejoice in all my splendor. To-morrow I shall hear 
 the story of Klumpey-Dumpey again, and perhaps that of 
 Ivede-Avede, too." 
 
 And the Tree stood all night quiet and thoughtful. 
 
 In the morning the servants and the chambermaid came 
 in. 
 
 ^'Now my splendor will begin afresh," thought the Tree. 
 
222 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 But they dragged him out of tTie room, and upstairs to the 
 garret, and here they put him in a dark corner where no 
 dayhght shone. 
 
 "What's the meaning of this?" thought the Tree. "What 
 am I to do here? What is to happen?" 
 
 And he leaned against the wall and thought, and thought. 
 And he had time enough, for days and nights went by, and 
 nobody came up; and when at length someone came, it 
 was only to put some great boxes in a corner. Now the Tree 
 stood quite hidden away, and the supposition is that it was 
 quite forgotten. 
 
 "Now it's winter outside," thought the Tree. "The earth 
 is hard and covered with snow, and people cannot plant me; 
 therefore I suppose I'm to be sheltered here until spring 
 comes. How considerate that is! How good people are! 
 If it were only not so dark here, and so terribly solitary! — • 
 not even a little hare? That was pretty out there in the 
 wood, when the snow lay thick and the hare sprang past; 
 yes, even when he jumped over me; but then I did not like 
 it. It is terribly lonely up here!" 
 
 "Piep! piep!" said a little Mouse, and crept forward, and 
 then came another little one.' They smelt at the Fir Tree, 
 and then slipped among the branches. 
 
 "It's horrible cold," said the two little Mice, "or else it 
 would be comfortable here. Don't you think so, you old 
 Fir Tree?" 
 
 "I'm not old at all," said the Fir Tree. "There are many 
 much older than I." 
 
 "Where do you come from?" asked the Mice. "And 
 what do you know?" They were dreadfully inquisitive. 
 "Tell us about the most beautiful spot on earth. Have you 
 been there ^ Have you been in the store room, where cheeses 
 lie on the shelves, and hams hang from the ceiling, where 
 one dances on tallow candles, and goes in thin and comes 
 out fat?" 
 
 "I don't know that," replied the Tree; "but I know the 
 wood, where the sun shines and the birds sing." 
 
 And then it told all about its youth. 
 
 And the little Mice had never heard anything of the kind; 
 and they listened and said: 
 
 "What a number of things you have seen! How happy 
 you must have been !" 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 223 
 
 "I?" replied the Fir Tree; and it thought about what it 
 had told. "Yes, those were really quite happy times." But 
 then he told of the Christmas Eve, when he had been hung 
 with sweetmeats and candles. 
 
 "Oh!" said the little Mice, "how happy you have been, 
 you old Fir Tree!" 
 
 "I'm not old at all," said the Tree. "I only came out of 
 the wood this winter. I'm only rather backward in my 
 growth." 
 
 "What splendid stories you can tell!" said the little Mice. 
 
 And next night they came with four other little Mice, to 
 hear what the Tree had to relate; and the more it said, the 
 more clearly did it remember everything, and thought, 
 "Those were quite merry days. But they may come again. 
 Klumpey-Dumpey fell downstairs, and yet he married the 
 Princess. Perhaps I may marry a Princess too?" And then 
 the Fir Tree thought of a pretty little Birch Tree that grew 
 out in the forest: for the Fir Tree, that Birch was a real 
 Princess. 
 
 "Who's Klumpey-Dumpey?" asked the little Mice. 
 
 And then the Fir Tree told the whole story. It could re- 
 member every single word; and the little Mice were ready 
 to leap to the very top of the tree with pleasure. Next night 
 a great many more Mice came, and on Sunday two Rats 
 even appeared; but these thought the story was not pretty, 
 and the little Mice were sorry for that^ for now they also did 
 not like it so much as before. 
 
 "Do you only know one story?" asked the Rats. 
 
 "Only that one," replied the Tree. "I heard that on the 
 happiest evening of my Hfe; I did not think then how hap- 
 py I was." 
 
 "That's a very miserable story. Don't you know any 
 about bacon and tallow candies — a store-room story?" 
 
 "No," said the Tree. 
 
 "Then we'd rather not hear you," said the Rats. 
 
 And they went back to their own people. The little Mice 
 at last stayed away also; and then the Tree sighed and said: 
 
 "It was very nice when they sat round me, the merry lit- 
 tle Mice, and listened when I spoke to them. Now that's 
 past too. But I shall remember to be pleased when they 
 take me out." 
 
 But when did that happen? Why, it was one morning 
 
224 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 that people came and rummaged in the garret: the boxes 
 were put away, and the Tree brought out; they certainly 
 threw him rather roughly on the floor, but a servant 
 dragged him away at once to the stairs, where the daylight 
 shone. 
 
 "Now life is beginning again!" thought the Tree. 
 
 It felt the fresh air and the first sunbeams, and now it was 
 out in the courtyard. Everything passed so quickly that the 
 Tree quite forgot to look at itself, there was so much to look 
 at all round. The courtvard was close to a garden, and here 
 everything was blooming; the roses hung fresh and fragrant 
 over the little paling, the linden trees were in blossom, and 
 the Swallows cried, "Quinze-wit! quinze-wit! my husband's 
 come!" But it was not the Fir Tree that they meant. 
 
 "Now I shall live!" said the Tree, rejoicingly, and spread 
 its branches far out; but, alas! they were all withered and 
 yellow; and it lay in the corner among nettles and weeds. 
 The tinsel star was still upon it, and shone in the bright sun- 
 shine. 
 
 In the courtyard a couple of the merry children were play- 
 ing who had danced round the Tree at Christmas time, and 
 had rejoiced over it. One of the youngest ran up and tore 
 ofif the golden star. 
 
 "Look what is sticking to the ugly old Fir Tree!" said 
 the child, and he trod upon the branches till they cracked 
 again under his boots. 
 
 And the Tree looked at all the blooming flowers and the 
 splendor of the garden, and then looked at itself, and wished 
 it had remained in the dark corner of the garret; it thought 
 of its fresh youth in the wood, of the merry Christmas Eve, 
 and of the little Mice which had listened so pleasantly to the 
 story of Klumpey-Dumpey. 
 
 "Past! past!" said the old Tree. "Had I but rejoiced 
 when I could have done so! Past! past!" 
 
 And the servant came and chopped the Tree into little 
 pieces; a whole bundle lay there; it blazed brightly under 
 the great brewing copper, and it sighed deeply, and each 
 sigh was like a little shot; and the children who were at play 
 there ran up and seated themselves at the fire, looked into 
 it, and cried "Pufif! pufif!" But at each explosion, which 
 was a deep sigh, the Tree thought of a summer day in the 
 woods, or of a winter night there, when the stars beamed; 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 225 
 
 he thought of Christmas Eve and of Klumpey-Dumpey, the 
 only story he had ever heard or knew how to tell; and then 
 the Tree was burned. 
 
 The boys played in the garden, and the youngest had on 
 his breast a golden star, which the Tree had worn on its 
 happiest evening. Now that was past, and the Tree's life 
 was past, and the story is past too: past! past! — and that's 
 the way with all stories. 
 
 SOMETHING. 
 
 "I want to be something!" said the eldest of five brothers. 
 "I want to do something in the world. I don't care how 
 humble my position may be in society, if I only effect some 
 good, for that will really be something. I'll make bricks, for 
 they are quite indispensable things, and then I shall truly 
 have done something." 
 
 "But that something will not be enough!" quoth the sec- 
 ond brother. "What you intend doing is just as much as 
 nothing at all. It is journeymen's work, and can be done by 
 a machine. No, I would rather be a bricklayer at once, for 
 that is something real; and thafs what I will be. That 
 brings rank: as a bricklayer one belongs to a guild, and is 
 a citizen, and has one's own flag and one's own house of 
 call. Yes, and if all goes well, I will keep journeymen. I 
 shall become a master bricklayer, and my wife will be a mas- 
 ter's wife — that is what I call something." 
 
 "That's nothing at all!" said the third. "That is beyond 
 the pale of the guild, and there are many of those in a 
 town that stand far above the mere master artisan. You 
 may be an honest man; but as a 'master' you will after all 
 only belong to those who are ranked among common men. 
 I know som.ething better than that. I will be an architect, 
 and will thus enter into the territory of art and speculation. 
 I shall be reckoned among those who stand high in point of 
 intellect. I shall certainly have to serve up from the pick- 
 ax, so to speak; so I must begin as a carpenter's apprentice, 
 and must go about as an assistant, in a cap, though I am ac- 
 customed to wear a silk hat. I shall have to fetch beer and 
 spirits for the common journeymen, and they will call me 
 
 15 
 
226 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 'thou,' and that is insulting! But I shall imagine to myself 
 that the whole thing is only acting, and a kind of mas- 
 querade. To-morrow — that is to say, when I have served 
 my time — I shall go my own way, and the others will be 
 nothing to me. I shall go to the academy, and get instruc- 
 tions in drawing, and shall be called an architect. That's 
 something! I may get to be called 'sir,' and even 'worship- 
 ful sir,' or even get a handle at the front or at the back of 
 my name, and shall go on building and building, just as 
 those before me have built. That will always be a thing to 
 remember, and that's what I call something!" 
 
 "But I don't care at all for that something," said the 
 fourth. "I won't sail in the wake of others, and be a copyist. 
 I will be a genius, and will stand up greater than all the rest 
 of you together. I shall be creator of a new style, and 
 will give the plan of a building suitable to the climate and 
 material of the country, for the nationality of the people, for 
 the development of the age — and an additional story for my 
 own genius." 
 
 "But supposing the climate and the material are bad," said 
 the fifth, "that would be a disastrous circumstance, for these 
 two exert a great influence. Nationality, moreover, may 
 expand itself until it becomes aflfectation, and the develop- 
 ment of the century may run wild with your work, as youth 
 often runs wild. I quite realize the fact that none of you will 
 be anything real, however much you may believe in your- 
 selves. But^ do what you like, I will not resemble you: I 
 shall keep on the outside of things, and criticise whatever 
 you produce. To every work there is attached something 
 that is not right — something that has gone wrong, and I will 
 ferret that out and find fault with it; and that will be doing 
 something!" 
 
 And he kept his word; and everybody said concerning 
 this fifth brother: "There is certainly something in him; he 
 has a good head, but he does nothing." And by that very 
 means they thought something of him! 
 
 Now, you see, this is only a little story; but it will never 
 end as long as the world lasts. 
 
 But what became of the five brothers? Why, this is 
 nothing and not something. 
 
 Listen, it is a capital story. 
 
 The eldest brother, he who manufactured bricks, soon be- 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 227 
 
 came aware of the fact that every brick, however small it 
 might be, produced for him a httle coin, though this coin 
 was only copper; and many copper pennies laid one upon 
 the other can be changed into a shining dollar; and wher- 
 ever one knocks with such a dollar in one's hand, whether at 
 the bakers, or the butcher's, or the tailor's — wherever it 
 may be, the door flies open, and the visitor is welcomed, and 
 gets what he wants. You see that is what comes of bricks. 
 Some of these belonging to the eldest brother certainly 
 crumbled away, or broke in two, but there was a use even 
 for these. 
 
 On the high rampart, the wall that kept out the sea, Mar- 
 garet, the poor woman, wished to build herself a little house. 
 All the faulty bricks were given to her, and a few perfect 
 ones into the bargain, for the eldest brother was a good- 
 natured man, though he certainly did not achieve anything 
 beyond the manufacture of bricks. The poor woman put 
 together the house for herself. It was little and narrow, and 
 the single window was quite crooked. The door was too 
 low, and the thatched roof might have shown better work- 
 manship. But after all it was a shelter; and from the little 
 house you could look far across the sea, whose waves broke 
 plainly against the protecting rampart on which it was built. 
 The salt billows spurted their spray over the whole house, 
 which was still standing when he who had given the bricks 
 for its erection had long been dead and buried. 
 
 The second brother knew better how to build a wall, for 
 he had served an apprenticeship to it. When he had served 
 his time and passed his examination, he packed his knap- 
 sack and sang the journeyman's song: 
 
 "While I am young I'll wander, from place to place I'll roam, 
 And everywhere build houses, until I come back home; 
 And youth will give me courage, and my true love won't forget; 
 Hurrah, then, for a workman's life! I'll be a master yet!" 
 
 And he carried his idea into effect. When he had come 
 home and become a master, he built one house after another 
 in the town. He built a whole street; and when the street 
 was finished and become an ornament to the place, the 
 houses built a house for him in return, that was to be his 
 own. But how can houses build a house? If you ask them 
 
228 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 they will not answer you, but people will understand what is 
 meant by the expression, and say, "Certainly, it was the 
 street that built his house for him." It was little, and the 
 floor was covered with clay; but when he danced with his 
 bride upon this clay floor, it seemed to become poHshed oak; 
 and from every stone in the wall sprang- forth a flower, and 
 the room was gay, as if with the costliest paperhanger's 
 work. It was a pretty house, and in it lived a happy pair. 
 The flag of the guild fluttered before the house, and the 
 journeymen and apprentices shouted hurrah! Yes, he cer- 
 tainly was something! And at last he died; and that was 
 something too. 
 
 Now came the architect, the third brother, who had been 
 at first a carpenter's apprentice, had worn a cap, and served 
 as an errand boy, but had afterward gone to the academy, 
 and risen to become an architect, and to be called "honored 
 sir." Yes, if the houses of the street had built a house for 
 the brother who had become a bricklayer the street now re- 
 ceived its name from the architect, and the handsomest 
 house in it became his property. That was something, and 
 he was something; and he had a long title before and after 
 his name. His children were called genteel children, and 
 when he died his widow was "a widow of rank," and that is 
 something! and his name always remained at the corner of 
 the street, and lived on in the mouth of everyone as the 
 street's name — and that was something! 
 
 Now came the genius of the family, the fourth brother, 
 who wanted to invent something new and original, and an 
 additional story on the top of it for himself. But the top 
 story tumbled down, and he came tumbling down with it, 
 and broke his neck. Nevertheless, he had a splendid fun- 
 eral, with guild flags and music, poems in the papers, and 
 flowers strewn on the paving stones in the street: and three 
 funeral orations were held over him, each one longer than 
 the last, which would have rejoiced him greatly, for he al- 
 w'ays liked it when people talked about him, a monument 
 also was erected over his grave. It was only one story high, 
 but still it was something. 
 
 Now he was dead, like the three other brothers; but the 
 last, the one who was a critic, outlived them all; and that 
 was quite right, for by this means he got the last word, and it 
 was of great importance to him to have the last word. The 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. m 
 
 people always said he had a good head of his own. At last 
 his hour came, and he died, and came to the gates of Para- 
 dise. There souls always enter two and two, and he came up 
 v/ith another soul that wanted to get into Paradise too; 
 and who should this be but old Dame Margaret from the 
 house upon the sea wall. 
 
 "I suppose this is done for the sake of contrast, that I and 
 this wretched soul should arrive here at exactly the same 
 time," said the critic. 'Tray who are you, my good woman?" 
 he asked. "Do you want to get in here too?" 
 
 And the old woman courtesied as well as she could; she 
 thought it must be St. Peter himself talking to her. 
 
 "Fm a poor old woman of a very humble family," she re- 
 plied. "I'm old Margaret that lived in the house on the sea 
 wall." 
 
 "Well, and what have you done? What have you ac- 
 complished down there?" 
 
 "I have really accomplished nothing at all in the world: 
 nothing that I can plead to have the doors here opened to 
 me. It would be a real mercy to allow me to slip in through 
 the gate." 
 
 "In what manner did you leave the world?" asked he, 
 just for the sake of saying something; for it was wearisome 
 work standing there and saying nothing. 
 
 "Why, I really don't know how I left it. I was sick and 
 miserable during my last years, and could not well bear 
 creeping out of bed, and going out suddenly into the frost 
 and cold. It was a hard winter, but I have got out of it all 
 now. For a few days the weather was quite calm, but very 
 cold, as your honor m.ust very well know. The sea was cov- 
 ered with ice as far as one could look. All the people from 
 the town walked out upon the ice, and I think they said 
 there was a dance there and skating. There was beautiful 
 music and a great feast there too; the sound came into my 
 poor little room, where I lay ill. And it was toward the 
 evening; the moon had risen beautifully, but was not yet 
 in its full splendor. I looked from my bed out over the wide 
 sea, and far off, just where the sea and sky join, a strange 
 white cloud came up. I lay looking at the cloud, and I saw 
 a little black spot in the middle of it, that grew larger and 
 larger; and now I knew what it meant, for I am old and ex- 
 perienced, though this token is not often seen. I knew it, 
 
230 ANDERSEJN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 and a shuddering came upon me. Twice in my life I have 
 seen the same thing; and I knew there would be an awful 
 tempest, and a spring flood, which would overwhelm the 
 poor people who were drinking and dancing and rejoicing — 
 young and old, the Avhole city had issued forth ; who was to 
 warn them, if no one saw what was coming yonder, or 
 knew, as I did, what it meant. I was dreadfully alarmed, 
 and felt more lively than I had done for a long time. I 
 crept out of bed, and got to the window, but could not 
 crawl any further, I was so exhausted. But I managed to 
 open the window. I saw the people outside running and 
 jumping about on the ice; I could see the beautiful flags 
 that waved in the wind. I heard the boys shouting 'Hurrah!' 
 and the servant men and maids singing. There w^ere all 
 kinds of merriment going on. But the white cloud with 
 the black spot! I cried as loud as I could, but no one heard 
 me; I was too far from the people. Soon the storm would 
 burst, and the ice would break, and all who were upon it 
 would be lost without remedy. They could not hear me, 
 and I could not come out to them. Oh, if I could only bring 
 them ashore! Then kind Heaven inspired me with the 
 thought of setting fire to my bed, and rather to let the house 
 burn down, than that all those people should perish miser- 
 ably. I succeeded in lightmg up a beacon for them. The red 
 flame blazed up on high, and I escaped out of the door, but 
 fell down exhausted on the threshold, and could get no 
 farther. The flames rushed out toward me, flickered through 
 the window, and rose high above the roof. All the people 
 on the ice yonder beheld it and ran as fast as they could to 
 give aid to a poor old woman who, they thought, was being 
 burned to death. Not one remained behind. I heard them 
 coming; but I also became aware of a rushing sound in the 
 air; I heard a rumbling like the sound of heavy artillery; 
 the spring flood was lifting the covering of ice, which pres- 
 ently burst and cracked into a thousand fragments. But the 
 people succeeded in reaching the sea wall — I saved them all! 
 But I fancy I could not bear the cold and the fright, and so 
 I came up here to the gates of Paradise. I am told they are 
 opened to poor creatures like me — and now I have no house 
 left down upon the rampart: not that I think this will give 
 me admission here." 
 Then the gates of heaven were opened, and the angel led 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 231 
 
 the old woman in. She left a straw behind her, a straw that 
 had been in her bed when she set it on fire to save the lives 
 of many; and this straw had been changed into the purest 
 gold — into gold that grew and grew, and spread out into 
 beauteous leaves and flowers. 
 
 "Look, this what the poor woman brought," said the angel 
 to the critic. "What dost thou bring? I know that thou 
 hast accomplished nothing— thou hast not made so much 
 as a single brick. Ah, if thou couldst only return, and efifect 
 at least as much as that! Probably the brick, when thou 
 hadst made it, would not be worth much; but if it were made 
 with a good will, it would at least be something. But thou 
 canst not go back, and I can do nothing for thee!" 
 
 Then the poor soul, the old dame who had lived on the 
 dyke, put in a petition for him. She said: 
 
 "His brother gave me the bricks and the pieces out which 
 I built up my house, and that was a great deal for a poor 
 woman like me. Could not all those bricks and pieces be 
 counted as a single brick in his favor? It was an act of 
 mercy. He wants it now ; and is not this a very fountain of 
 mercy?" 
 
 Then the angel said: 
 
 "Thy brother, him whom thou hast regarded as the least 
 among you all, he whose honest industry seemed to thee as 
 the most humble, hath given thee this heavenly gift. Thou 
 shalt not be turned away. It shall be vouchsafed to thee to 
 stand here without the gate, and to reflect, and repent of 
 thy hfe down yonder; but thou shalt not be admitted until 
 thou hast in earnest accomplished something." 
 
 "I could have said that in better words!" thought the 
 critic, but he did not find fault aloud; and for him, after all 
 that was "something !" 
 
 A LEAF FROM THE SKY. 
 
 High up yonder, in the thin clear air, flew an angel with a 
 flower from the heavenly garden. As she was kissing the 
 flower, a very little leaf fell down into the soft soil in the 
 midst of the wood, and immediately took root, and sprouted, 
 and sent forth shoots among the other plants, 
 
232 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "A funny kind of slip that," said the Plants. 
 
 And neither Thistle nor Stinging Nettle would recognize 
 the stranger. 
 
 "That must be a kind of garden plant," said they. 
 
 And they sneered; and the plant was despised by them as 
 being a thing out of the garden. 
 
 "Where are you coming?" cried the lofty Thistles, whose 
 leaves are all armed with thorns. "You give yourself a good 
 deal of space. That's all nonsense — we are not here to sup- 
 port you !" they grumbled. 
 
 And winter came, and snow covered the plant; but the 
 plant imparted to the snowy covering a luster as if the sun 
 was shining upon it from below as from above. When 
 spring came, the plant appeared as a blooming object, more 
 beautiful than any production of the forest. 
 
 And now appeared on the scene the botanical professor, 
 who could show what he was in black and white. He in- 
 spected the plant and tested it, but found it was not included 
 in his botanical system; and he could not possibly find out 
 to what class it belonged. 
 
 "That must be some subordinate species," he said. "I 
 don't know it. It's not included in any system." 
 
 "Not included in any S3^stem!" repeated the Thistles and 
 the Nettles. 
 
 The great trees that stood round about saw and heard 
 it; but they said not a word, good or bad, which is the 
 wisest thing to do for people who are stupid. 
 
 There came through the forest a poor, innocent girl. Her 
 heart was pure, and her understanding was enlarged by 
 faith Her w^hole inheritance was an old Bible; but out of 
 its pages a voice said to her, "If people wish to do us evil, 
 remember how it was said of Joseph. They imagined evil 
 in their hearts, but God turned it to good. If we suffer 
 wrong — if we are misunderstood and despised — then we 
 may recall the words of Him who was purity and goodness 
 itself, and who forgave and prayed for those who buffeted 
 and nailed Him to the cross." 
 
 The girl stood still in front of the wonderful plant, whose 
 great leaves exhaled a sweet and refreshing fragrance, and 
 whose flowers glittered like a colored flame in the sun; and 
 from each flower there came a sound as though it concealed 
 within itself a deep fount of melody that thousands of years 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 233 
 
 could not exhaust. With pious gratitude the girl looked 
 upon this beautiful work of the Creator, and bent down one 
 of the branches toward itself to breathe in its sweetness; and 
 a light arose in her soul. It seemed to do her heart good; 
 and gladly would she have plucked a flower, but she could 
 not make up her mind to break one off, for it would soon 
 fade if she did so. Therefore the girl only took a single leaf, 
 and laid it in her Bible at home; and it lay there quite fresh, 
 always green, and never fading. 
 
 Among the pages of the Bible it was kept; and with the 
 Bible it was laid under the young girl's head, when, a few 
 weeks afterward, she lay in her coffin, with the solemn calm 
 of death on her gentle face, as if the earthly remains bore 
 the impress of the truth that she now stood before her 
 Creator. 
 
 But the wonderful plant still bloomed without in the 
 forest. It was almost like a tree to look upon; and all the 
 birds of passage bowed before it. 
 
 "That's giving itself foreign airs now," said the Thistles 
 ancl the Burdocks; "we never behave like that here." 
 
 And the black snails actually spat at the flower. 
 
 Then came the swineherd. He was collecting thistles and 
 shrubs, to burn them for the ashes. The wonderful plant 
 was placed bodily in his bundle. 
 
 "It shall be made useful," he said; and so said, so done. 
 
 But soon afterward the King of the country was troubled 
 with a terrible depression of spirits. He was busy and in- 
 dustrious, but that did him no good. They read him deep 
 and learned books, and then they read from the lightest and 
 most superficial that they could find; but it was of no use. 
 Then one of the wise men of the world, to whom they had 
 applied, sent a messenger to tell the King that there was 
 one remedy to give him relief and to cure him. He said: 
 
 "In the King's own country there grows in a forest a 
 plant of heavenly origin. Its appearance is thus and thus. 
 It cannot be mistaken." 
 
 "I fancy it was taken up in my bundle, and burned to 
 ashes long ago," said the swineherd; "but I did not know 
 any better." 
 
 "You did not know any better! Ignorance of ignor- 
 ances !" 
 
234 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 And those words the swineherd might well take to him- 
 self, for they were meant for him, and for no one else. 
 
 Not another leaf was to be found; the only one lay in 
 the coffin of the dead girl, and no one knew anything about 
 that. 
 
 And the King himself, in his melancholy, wandered out 
 to the spot in the wood. 
 
 "Here is where the plant stood," he said; "it is a sacred 
 place." 
 
 And the place was surrounded with a golden railing, and 
 a sentry was posted there. 
 
 The botanical professor wrote a long treatise upon the 
 heavenly plant. For this he was gilded all over, and this 
 gilding suited him and his family very well. And indeed 
 that was the most agreeable part of the whole story. But 
 the King remained as low-spirited as before; but that he 
 had always been, at least so the sentry said. 
 
 THE JEWISH GIRL. 
 
 Among the children in a charity school sat a little Jewish 
 girl. She was a good, intelligent child, the quickest in all 
 the school; but she had to be excluded from one lesson, for 
 she was not allowed to take part in the Scriptural lesson, for 
 it was a Christian school. 
 
 In that hour the girl was allowed to open the geography 
 book, or to do her sum for the next day; but that was soon 
 done; and when she had mastered her lesson in geography, 
 the book indeed remained open before her, but the little one 
 read no more in it: she listened silently to the words of the 
 Christian teacher, who soon became aware that she was 
 listening more intently than almost any of the other chil- 
 dren. 
 
 "Read your book, Sara," the teacher said, in mild reproof; 
 but her dark beaming eye remained fixed upon him; and 
 once when he addressed a question to her, she knew how to 
 answer better than any of the others could have done. She 
 had heard and understood, and had kept his words in her 
 heart. 
 
 When her father, a poor, honest man, first brought the 
 
( 
 
 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 235 
 
 girl to the school, he had stipulated that she should be ex- 
 cluded from the lessons on the Christian faith. But it would 
 have caused disturbance, and perhaps might have awakened 
 discontent in the mind of the others, if she had been sent 
 from the room during the hours in question, and conse- 
 quently she stayed ; but this could not go on any longer. 
 
 The teacher betook himself to her father, and exhorted 
 him either to remove his daughter from the school, or to 
 consent that Sara should become a Christian. 
 
 "I can no longer be a silent spectator of the gleaming 
 eyes of the child, and of her deep and earnest longing for 
 the words of the Gospel," said the teacher. 
 
 Then the father burst into tears. 
 
 "I know but little of the commandment given to my 
 fathers," he said, "but Sara's mother was steadfast in the 
 faith, a true daughter of Israel, and I vowed to her as she 
 lay dying that our child should never be baptized. I must 
 keep my vow, for it is even as a covenant with God Him- 
 self." 
 
 And accordingly the little Jewish maiden quitted the 
 Christian school. 
 
 Years have rolled on. 
 
 In one of the smallest provincial towns there dwelt, as a 
 servant in a humble household, a maiden who held the 
 Mosaic faith. Her hair was black as ebony, her eyes dark 
 as night, and yet full of splendor and light, as is usual with 
 the daughters of Israel. It was Sara. The expression in 
 the countenance of the now grown-up maiden was still that 
 of the child sitting on the school-room bench, and listening 
 with thoughtful eyes to the words of the Christian teacher. 
 
 Every Sunday there pealed from the church the sounds of 
 the organ and the song of the congregation. The strain 
 penetrated into the house where the Jewish girl, industrious 
 and faithful in all things, stood at her work. 
 
 "Thou shalt keep holy the Sabbath day,'' said a voice 
 within her, the voice of the Law; but her Sabbath day was 
 a working day among the Christians, and that seemed un- 
 fortunate to her. But then the thought arose in her soul: 
 "Doth God reckon by days and hours?" And when this 
 thought grew strong within her, it seemed a comfort that on 
 the Sunday of the Christians the hour of prayer remainec' 
 undisturbed; and then the sound of the organ and the songs 
 
236 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 of the congregation sounded across to her as she stood In 
 the kitchen at her work, and even that place seemed to be- 
 come a sacred one to her. Then she would read in the Old 
 Testament, the treasure and comfort of her people, and it 
 was only in this one she could read; for she kept faithfully 
 in the depths of her heart the words the teacher had spoken 
 when s'he left the school, and the promise her father had 
 given to her dying mother, that she should never receive 
 Christian baptism, or deny the faith of her ancestors. The 
 New Testament was to be a sealed book to her; and yet 
 she knev^^ much of it, and the Gospel echoed faintly among 
 the recollections of her youth. 
 
 One evening she was sitting in a corner of the living room. 
 Her master was reading aloud ; and she might listen to him, 
 for it was not the Gospel that he read, but an old stor}^ book", 
 therefore she might stay. The book told of a Hungarian 
 knight who was taken prisoner by a Turkish pasha, who 
 caused him to be yoked with his oxen to the plow, and 
 driven with blows of the whip till blood came, and he al- 
 most sank under the pain and ignominy he endured. The 
 faithful wife of the knight at hom.e parted with all her jewels, 
 and pledged castle and land. The knight's friends amassed 
 large sums, for the ransom demanded was almost unattain- 
 ably high; but it was collected at last, and the good knight 
 was freed from servitude and misery. But soon another 
 summons came to war against the foes of Christianity; the 
 knight heard the cry, and he could stay no longer, for he 
 had neither peace nor rest. He caused himself to be lifted 
 on his war-horse; and the blood came back to his cheek, 
 his strength appeared to return, and he went forth to battle 
 and to victory. The very same pasha who had yoked him 
 to the plow became his prisoner, and was dragged to his 
 castle. But not an hour had passed when the knight stood 
 before the captive pasha and said to him: 
 "What dost thou suppose awaitest thee?" 
 "I know it," replied the Turk. "Retribution." 
 "Yes, the retribution of the Christian!" resumed the 
 knight. "The doctrine of Christ commands us to forgive our 
 enemies, and to love our fellow-man, for it teaches us that 
 God is love. Depart in peace, depart to thy home: I will 
 restore thee to thy dear ones; but in future be mild and 
 merciful to all who are unfortunate." 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 237 
 
 Then the prisoner broke out into tears, and exclaimed: 
 
 "How could I believe in the possibility of such mercy? 
 Misery and torment seemed to await me, they seemed 
 inevitable; therefore I took poison, which I secretly carried 
 about me, and in a few hours its effects will slay me. I 
 must die — there is no remedy! But before I die, do thou 
 expound to me the teaching which includes so great a meas- 
 ure of love and mercy, for it is great and godlike! Grant 
 me to hear this teaching, and to die a Christian." And his 
 prayer was fulfilled. 
 
 That was the legend which the master read out of the old 
 story book. All the audience listened with sympathy and 
 pleasure; but Sara, the Jewish girl, sitting alone in her 
 corner, listened with a burning heart; great tears came into 
 her gleaming black eyes, and she sat there with a gentle 
 and lowly spirit as she had once sat on the school bench, 
 and felt the grandeur of the Gospel; and the tears rolled 
 down over her cheeks. 
 
 But again the dying words of her mother rose up within 
 her: "Let not my daughter become a Christian," the voice 
 cried; "and together with it arose the words of the Law: 
 "Thou shalt honor thy father and thy mother." 
 
 "I am not admitted into the community of the Christians," 
 she said; "they abuse me for being a Jew girl — our neigh- 
 bor's boys hooted me last Sunday when I stood at the open 
 church door, and looked in at the flaming candles on the 
 altar, and listened to the song of the congregation. Ever 
 since I sat upon the school bench I have felt the force of 
 Christianity, a force like that of a sunbeam, which streams 
 into my soul, however firmly I may shut my eyes against it. 
 But I will not pain thee in thy grave, oh, my mother; I 
 will not be unfaithful to the oath of my father; I will not 
 read the Bible of the Christians. I have the religion of my 
 people, and to that will I hold!" 
 
 And years rolled on again. 
 
 The master died. His widow fell into poverty, and the 
 servant girl was to be dismissed. But Sara refused to leave 
 the house; she became the staff in time of trouble, and kept 
 the household together, working till late in the night to 
 earn the daily bread through the labor of her hands, for no 
 relative came forward to assist the family; and the widow 
 became weaker every day, and lay for months together on 
 
238 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 the bed of sickness. Sara worked hard, and in the intervals 
 sat kindly ministering by the sick bed: she was gentle and 
 pious, an angel of blessing in the poverty-stricken house. 
 
 "Yonder on the table lies the Bible," said the sick woman 
 to Sara. "Read me something from it; for the night ap- 
 pears to be long — oh, so long! — and my soul thirsts for the 
 word of the Lord." 
 
 And Sara bowed her head. She took the book, and fold- 
 ed her hands over the Bible of the Christians, and opened 
 it, and read to the sick woman. Tears stood in her eyes, 
 which gleamed and shone with ecstasy, and light shone in 
 her heart. 
 
 ''O'h my mother," she whispered to herself, "thy child may 
 not receive the baptism of the Christians, or be admitted 
 into the congregation — thou hast willed it so, and I shall 
 respect thy command: we will remain in union together here 
 on earth; but beyond this earth there is a higher union, 
 even union in God! He will be at our side, and lead us 
 through the valley of death. It is He that descendeth upon 
 the earth when it is athirst, and covers it with fruitfulness. 
 I understand it — I know not how I came to learn the truth; 
 but it is through Him, through Christ!" 
 
 And she started as she pronounced the sacred name, and 
 there came upon her a baptism as of flames of fire, and her 
 frame shook, and her limbs tottered so that she sank down 
 fainting, weaker even than the sick woman by whose couch 
 she had watched. 
 
 "Poor Sara!" said the people: "she is overcome with 
 night watching and toil!" 
 
 They carried her out into the hospital for the sick poor. 
 There she died; and from thence they carried her to the 
 grave, but not to the churchyard of the Christians, for yon- 
 der was no room for the Jewish girl; outside, by the wall, 
 her grave was dug. 
 
 But God's sun, that shines upon the graves of the Chris- 
 tians, throws its beams also upon the grave of the Jewish 
 girl beyond the wall : and when the psalms are sung in the 
 churchyard of the Christians, thev echo likewise over her 
 lonely resting place; and she who sleeps beneath is included 
 in the call to the resurrection, in the name of Him who spake 
 to His disciples: 
 
 "John baptized you with water, but I will baptize you 
 with the Holy Ghost!" 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 239 
 
 THE ELDER TREE MOTHER. 
 
 There was once a little boy who had caught cold ; he had 
 gone out and got wet feet; no one could imagine how it 
 had happened, for it was quite dry weather. Now his 
 mother undressed him, put to bed, and had the tea urn 
 brought in to make a good cup of elder tea, for that warms 
 well. At the same time there also came in at the door the 
 friendly old man who lived all alone at the top of the house, 
 and was very solitary. He had neither v/ife nor children, 
 but he was very fond of little people, and knew so many 
 stories that it was quite dehghtful. 
 
 "Now you are to drink your tea," said the mother, "and 
 then perhaps you will hear a story." 
 
 "Ah! if one only could tell a new one!'' said the old man, 
 with a friendly nod. "But where did the little man get his 
 feet wet?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes," replied the mother, "no one can tell how that came 
 about." 
 
 "Shall I have a story?" asked the boy. 
 
 "Yes, if you can tell me at all accurately — for I must 
 know that first — how deep the gutter is in the little street 
 through which you go to school." 
 
 "Just half-way up to my knee," answered the boy, "that 
 is, if I put my feet in the deep hole." 
 
 "You see, that's how we get our feet wet," said the old- 
 gentleman. "Now I ought certainly to tell you a story; 
 but I don't know any more." 
 
 "You can make up one directly," answered the little boy. 
 "Mother says that everything you look at can be turned 
 into a story, and that you can make a tale of everything you 
 touch." 
 
 "Yes, but those stories and tales are worth nothing! No, 
 the real ones come of themselves. They knock at my fore- 
 head and say, 'Here I am!'" 
 
 "Will there soon be a knock?" asked the little boy, and 
 the mother laughed, and put elder tea in the pot, and poured 
 hot water upon it. 
 
 "A story! a story!" 
 
 "Yes, if a story would come of itself; but that kind of thing 
 is very grand; it only comes when it's in the humor. "Wait!" 
 
240 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 he cried all at once; "here we have it. Look you; there's 
 one in the tea pot now." 
 
 And the little boy looked across at the tea pot. The lid 
 raised itself more and more, and the elder flowers came 
 forth from it, white and fresh; they shot forth long, fresh 
 branches even out of the spout, they spread abroad in all 
 directions, and became larger and larger; there was the 
 most glorious elder bush — in fact, quite a great tree. It 
 penetrated even to the bed, and thrust the curtains aside; 
 how fragrant it was, and how it bloomed I And in the 
 midst of the tree sat an old, pleasant looking woman in a 
 strange dress. It was quite green, like the leaves of the 
 elder tree, and bordered with great white elder blossoms: 
 one could not at once discern whether this border was of 
 stufif or of living green and real flowers. 
 
 "What is the woman's name?'' the little boy asked. 
 
 "The Romans and Greeks," replied the old man, "used to 
 call her a Dryad; but we don't understand that: out in the 
 sailors' suburb we have a better name for her; there she's 
 called Elder Tree Mother, and it is to her you must pay at- 
 tention: only listen, and look at that glorious elder tree. 
 
 "Just such a great blooming tree stands outside; it grew 
 there in the corner of a poor little yard, and under this tree 
 two old people sat one afternoon in the brightest sunshine. 
 It was an old, old sailor, and his old, old wife; they had 
 great-grandchildren, and were soon to celebrate their gold- 
 en wedding;* but they could not quite make out the date, 
 and the Elder Tree Mother sat in the tree and looked pleas- 
 ed, just as she does here. T know vers'- well when the 
 golden wedding is to be," said she; but they did not hear it 
 — they were talking of old times. 
 
 " 'Yes, do you remember,' said the old seaman, 'when we 
 v^^ere quite little, and ran about and played together? It 
 Avas in the very same yard where we are sitting now, and we 
 planted little twigs in the yard, and made a garden.' 
 
 "'Yes,' replied the old woman, 'I remember it ver\' well: 
 we watered the twigs, and one of them was an elder twig; 
 that struck root, shot out other green twigs, and has be- 
 come a great tree, under which we old people sit.' 
 
 "'Surely,' said he; 'and yonder in the corner stood a butt 
 
 *Tbe golden wedrlinf!: is celebrated in several countries of the 
 Continent, by the wedded pairs who survive to see the fiftieth 
 anniversary of their marriage day. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 241 
 
 of water; there I swam my boat: I had cut it out myself. 
 How it could sail! But I certainly soon had to sail else- 
 where myself.' 
 
 " 'But first we went to school and learned something,' said 
 she, 'and then we were confirmed; we both cried, but in the 
 afternoon we went hand in hand to the round tower, and 
 looked out into the wide world, over Copenhagen and 
 across the water; then we went out to Fredericksburg, 
 where the King and Queen were sailing in their splendid 
 boats upon the canals.' 
 
 " 'But I was obliged to sail elsewhere, and that for many 
 yearS; far away on long voyages.' 
 
 " 'Yes, I often cried about you,' she said. 'I thought you 
 were dead and gone, and lying down in the deep waters, 
 rocked by the waves. Many a night I got up to look if the 
 weathercock was turning. Yes, it turned indeed; but you 
 did not come. I remember so clearly how the rain streamed 
 down from the sky. The man with the cart^ who fetched 
 a way the dust came to the place where I was in service. I 
 went down with him to the dust-bin, and remained standing 
 in the doorway. What wretched weather it was! And just 
 as I stood there the postman came up and gave me a letter. 
 It was from you! How that letter had traveled about! I 
 tore it open and read; I laughed and wept at once; I was so 
 glad. There it stood written that you were in the warm 
 countries where the coffee-beans grow. You told me so 
 much, and I read it all while the rain was streaming down, 
 and I stood by the dust-bin. Then somebody came and 
 clasped me round the waist.' 
 
 " 'And you gave him a terrible box on the ear — one that 
 sounded!' 
 
 " 'I did not know that it was you. You had arrived just 
 as quickly as your letter. And you were so handsome; but 
 that you are still. You had a large yellow silk handker- 
 chief in your pocket, and a hat on your head. You were 
 so handsome! And, gracious! what weather it was, and 
 how the streets looked!' 
 
 "'Then we were married,' said he; 'do you remember? 
 And then when our first little boy came, and then Marie, 
 and Neils, and Peter, and Jack, and Christian?' 
 
 " 'Yes ; and how all of these have grown up to be re- 
 spectable people, and everyone likes them.' 
 
 16 
 
242 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 " 'And their children have had Httle ones in their turn,' 
 said the old sailor. 'Yes, those are children's children! 
 They're of the right sort. It was, if I don't mistake, at this 
 very season of the year that we were married?' 
 
 " 'Yes; this is the day of your golden wedding,' said the 
 Elder Tree Mother, putting out her head just between the 
 two old people; and they thought it was a neighbor nod- 
 ding to them, and they looked at each other, and took hold 
 of one another's hands. 
 
 "Soon afterward came their children and grandchildren — 
 these knew very well that it was the golden wedding day; 
 they had already brought their congratulations in the morn- 
 ing, but the old people had forgotten it, while they remem- 
 bered everything right well that had happened years and 
 years ago. 
 
 "And the elder tree smelt so sweet, and the sun that was 
 just setting shone just in the faces of the old couple, so that 
 their cheeks looked quite red; and the youngest of their 
 grandchildren danced about them, and cried out quite glee- 
 fully that there was to be a feast this evening, for they were 
 to have hot potatoes; and the Elder Mother nodded in the 
 tree, and called out 'Hurrah!' with all the rest." 
 
 "But that was not a story," said the little boy, who had 
 heard it told. 
 
 "Yes, so you understand it," replied the old man; "but 
 let us ask the Elder Mother about it." 
 
 "That was not a story," said the Elder Mother; but now 
 it comes; but of truth the strangest stories are formed, 
 otherwise my beautiful elder tree could not have sprouted 
 forth out of the tea pot." 
 
 And then she took the little boy out of bed, and laid him 
 upon her bosom, and the blossoming elder branches wound 
 round them, so they sat as it were in the thickest arbor, and 
 this arbor f^ew with them through the air. It was indescrib- 
 ably beautiful. Elder Mother all at once became a pretty 
 young girl; but her dress was still of the green stuf? with 
 the white blossoms that Elder Mother had worn; in her 
 bosom she had a real elder blossom, and on her head a 
 wreath of elder flowers; her eyes were so large and blue, 
 they were beautiful to look at! She and the boy were of 
 the same age, and they kissed each other and felt similar 
 jovs. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 243 
 
 Hand in hand they went forth out of the arbor, and now 
 they stood in the beauteous flower garden of home. The 
 father's stafT was tied up near the grass plot, and for the 
 little boy there was life in that staff. As soon as they seated 
 themselves upon it, the polished head turned into a 
 noble, neighing horse's head, with a flowing mane, and four 
 slender legs shot forth ; the creature was strong and spirited, 
 and they rode at a gallop round the grass plot — hurrah ! 
 
 "Now we're going to ride many miles away," said the 
 boy; "we'll ride to the nobleman's estate, where we went 
 last year." 
 
 And they rode round and round the grass plot, and the 
 little girl, who, as we know, was no one else but Elder 
 Mother, kept crying out: 
 
 "Now we're in the country! Do you see the farm house, 
 with the great baking oven standing out of the wall like an 
 enormous egg by the way side? The elder tree spreads its 
 branches over it^ and the cock Avalks about, scratching for 
 its hens; look how he struts! Now we are near the church; 
 it lies up on the hill, under the great oak trees, one of which 
 is half dead. Now we are at the forge, where the fire burns, 
 and the half-clad men beat witli their hammers, so that the 
 sparks fly far around. Away, away, to the splendid noble- 
 man's seat!" 
 
 And everything that the little maiden mentioned, as she 
 sat on the stick behind him, flew past them, and the little 
 boy saw it all, though they were only riding round and 
 round the grass "plot. Then they played in the sidewalk, 
 and scratched up the earth to make a little garden; and she 
 took elder flowers out of her hair and planted them, and they 
 grew just like those that the old people had planted when 
 they were little, as has been already told. They went hand 
 in hand just as the old people had done in their childhood; 
 but not to the high tower, or to the Fredericksburg Garden. 
 No, the little girl took hold of the boy round the body, and 
 then flew far away into the country. 
 
 And it was spring, and summer came, and autumn, and 
 winter, and thousands of pictures were mirrored in the boy's 
 eyes and heart, and the little maiden was always singing 
 to him. 
 
 He will never forget that; and throughout their whole 
 journey the elder tree smelt so sweet, so fragrant; he 
 
244 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 noticed the roses and the fresh beech trees; but the elder 
 tree smelt stronger than all, for its flowers hung round the 
 little girl's heart, and he often leaned against them as they 
 flew onward. 
 
 "Here it is beautiful in spring!" said the little girl. 
 
 And they stood in the green beech wood, where the 
 thyme lay spread in fragrance at their feet, and the pale pink 
 anemones looked glorious among the vivid green. 
 
 "Oh, that it were always spring in the merr}' green 
 wood?" 
 
 "Here it is beautiful in summer!" said she. 
 
 And they passed by old c«.stles of knightly days, castles 
 whose high walls and pointed turrets were mirrored in the 
 canals, where swans swam about, and looked down the old 
 shady avenues. In the fields the corn waved like a sea, in 
 the ditches yellow and red flov>'ers were growing, and in 
 the hedges wild hops and blooming convolvulus. In the 
 evening the moon rose round and large, and the haystacks 
 in the meadows smelt sweet. 
 
 "Here it is beautiful in autumn!" said the little girl. 
 
 And the sky seemed twice as lofty and twice as blue as be- 
 fore, and the forest was decked in the most gorgeous tints of 
 red, yellow, and green. The hunting dogs raced about; 
 whole flocks of wild ducks flev/ screaming over the Huns' 
 Graves, on which bramble bushes twined over the old 
 stones. The sea was dark blue, and covered with ships with 
 white sails; and in the barns sat old women, girls, and chil- 
 dren, picking hops into a large tub; the young people sang 
 songs, and the older ones told tales of magicians and gob- 
 lins. It could not be finer anywhere. 
 
 "Here it is beautiful in winter!" said the little girl. 
 
 And all the trees were covered with hoar frost, so that 
 they looked like white trees of coral. The snow crumbled 
 beneath one's feet, as if everyone had new boots on; and one 
 shooting star after another fell from the sky. In the room 
 the Christmas tree was lighted up, and there were presents, 
 and there was happiness. In the country people's farm- 
 houses the violin sounded, and there were many games for 
 apples; and even the poorest child said, "It is beautiful in 
 winter!" 
 
 Yes, it was beautiful; and the little girl showed the boy 
 everything; and still the blossoming tree smelt sweet, and 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 245 
 
 Still waved the red flag with the white cross, the flag under 
 which the old seaman had sailed. The boy became a youth, 
 and was to go out into the wide world, far away to the hot 
 countries where the coffee grows. But when they were to 
 part, the little girl took an elder blossom from her breast, 
 and gave it to him to keep. It was laid in his hymn book, 
 and in the foreign land, when he opened the book, it was al- 
 ways at the place where the flower of remembrance lay; and 
 the more he looked at the flower the fresher it became, so 
 that he seemed, as it were, to breathe the forest air of home ; 
 then he plainly saw the little girl looking out with her clear 
 blue eyes from between the petals of the flower, and then 
 she whispered, "Here it is beautiful in spring, summer, au- 
 tumn, and winter!" and hundreds of pictures glided through 
 his thoughts. 
 
 Thus many years went by, and now he was an old man, 
 and sat with his old wife under the blossoming elder tree; 
 they were holding each other by the hand, just as the great- 
 grandmother and great-grandfather had done outside; and, 
 like these, they spoke of old times and of the golden wed- 
 ding. The little maiden with the blue eyes and with the 
 elder blossoms in her hair sat up in the tree, and nodded to 
 both of them, and said, 'To-day is our golden wedding day!'' 
 and then she took two flowers out of her hair and kissed 
 them, and they gleamed first like silver and then like gold, 
 and when she laid them on the heads of the old people each 
 changed into a golden crown. There they both sat, like a 
 King and a Queen, under the fragrant tree which looked 
 quite like an elder bush, and he told his old wife of the story 
 of the Elder Tree Mother, as it had been told to him when he 
 was quite a little boy, and they both thought that the story 
 in many points resembled their own, and those parts they 
 liked the best of all. 
 
 "Yes, thus it is!" said the little girl in the tree. "Some 
 call me Elder Tree Mother, others the Dryad, but my real 
 name is Remembrance; it is I who sit in the tree that grows 
 on and on, and I can think back and tell stories. Let me 
 see if you have still your flower." 
 
 And the old man opened his hymn book; there lay the 
 elder blossom as fresh as if it had only just been placed 
 there; and Remembrance nodded, and the two old people 
 with the golden crowns on their heads sat in the red evening 
 
243 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 sunlight, and they closed their eyes, and — and — the story 
 was finished. 
 
 The little boy lay in his bed and did not know whether he 
 had been dreaming or had heard a tale told; the tea pot 
 stood on the table, but no elder bush was growing out of it, 
 and the old man who had told about it was just going out 
 of the door, and indeed he went. 
 
 "How beautiful that was!" said the little boy. "Mother, 
 I have been in the hot countries." 
 
 "Yes, I can imagine that!" replied his mother. "When 
 one drinks two cups of hot elder tea one very often gets into 
 the hot countries!" And she covered him up well, that he 
 might not take cold. "You have slept well while I disputed 
 with him as to whether it was a story or a fairy tale." 
 
 "And where is the Elder Tree Mother?" asked the little 
 lad. 
 
 "She's in the tea pot," replied his mother; "and there she 
 may stay." 
 
 THE FARMYARD COCK AND THE WEATHER 
 
 COCK. 
 
 There were two Cocks — one on the dunghill, the other on 
 the roof. Both were conceited; but which of the two ef- 
 fected most? Tell us your opinion; but we shall keep our 
 own nevertheless. 
 
 The poultry yard was divided by a partition of boards 
 from another yard, in which lay a manure heap, whereon lay 
 and grew a great Cucumber, which was fully conscious of 
 being a forcing bed plant. 
 
 "That's a privilege of birth," the Cucumber said to herself. 
 "Not all can be born cucumbers; there must be other kinds, 
 too. The fowls, the ducks, and all the cattle in the neigh- 
 boring yard are creatures, too. I now look up to the Yard 
 Cock on the partition. He certainly is of much greater 
 consequence than the Weather Cock, who is so highly- 
 placed, and who can't even creak, much less crow; and he 
 has neither hens nor chickens, and thinks only of himself, 
 and perspires verdigris. But the Yard Cock — he's some- 
 thing like a cock! His gait is like a dance, his crowing is 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 247 
 
 music ; and wherever he comes, it is known directly. What 
 a trumpeter he is! If he would only come in here! Even 
 if he were to eat me up, stalk and all, it would be quite a 
 blissful death," said the Cucumber. 
 
 In the night the weather became very bad. Hens, chick- 
 ens, and even the Cock himself sought shelter. The wind 
 blew down the partition between the two yards with a 
 crash ; the tiles came tumbling down, but the Weather Cock 
 sat firm. He did not even turn round; he could not turn 
 round, and yet he was young and newly cast, but steady and 
 sedate. He had been "born old," and did not at all resemble 
 the birds that fly beneath the vault of heaven, such as the 
 sparrows and the swallows. He despised those, consider- 
 ing them piping birds of trifling stature — ordinary song 
 birds. The pigeons, he allowed, were big and shining, and 
 gleamed like mother-o'-pearl, and looked like a kind of 
 weather cocks; but then they were fat and stupid, and their 
 whole endeavor was to fill themselves with food. 
 
 ''Moreover, they are tedious things to converse with,'' 
 said the Weather Cock. 
 
 The birds of passage had also paid a visit to the Weather 
 Cock, and told him tales of foreign lands, of airy caravans, 
 and exciting robber stories; of encounters with birds of 
 prey; and that was interesting enough for the first time, but 
 the Weather Cock knew that afterward they always re- 
 peated themselves, and that was tedious. , 
 
 "They are tedious, and all is tedious," he said. "No one 
 is fit to associate with, and one and all of them are weari- 
 some and stupid. The world is worth nothing," he cried. 
 "The whole thing is a stupidity." 
 
 The Weather Cock was what is called "used up" ; and that 
 quality would certainly have made him interesting in the 
 eyes of the Cucumber if she had known it; but she had only 
 eyes for the Yard Cock, who had now actually come into 
 her own yard. 
 
 The wind had blown down the plank, but the storm had 
 passed over. 
 
 "What do you think of that crowing?" the Yard Cock in- 
 quired of his hens and chickens. "It was a little rough — 
 the elegance was wanting." 
 
 And hens and chickens stepped upon the muck heap, and 
 the Cock strutted to and fro on it like a knight. 
 
24S ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "Garden plant!" he cried out to the Cucumber; and in 
 this one word she understood his deep feeHng, and forgot 
 that he was pecking at her and eating her up — a happy 
 death ! 
 
 And the hens came, and the chickens came, and when one 
 of them runs the rest run also; and they clucked and chirped, 
 and looked at the Cock, and were proud that he was of their 
 kind. 
 
 "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" he crowed. "The chickens will 
 grow up large fowls if I make a noise in the poultry yard of 
 the world!" 
 
 And hens and chickens clucked and chirped, and the Cock 
 told them a great piece of news: 
 
 "A cock can lay an egg I and do you know what there is in 
 that egg? In that egg lies a basilisk. No one can stand the 
 sight of a basilisk. Men know that, and now you know it 
 too — you know what is in me, and what a Cock of the world 
 I am." 
 
 And with this the Yard Cock flapped his wings, and made 
 his comb swell up, and crowed again; and all of them shud- 
 dered — all the hens and the chickens; but they were proud 
 that one of their people should be such a cock of the world. 
 They clucked and chirped, so that the Weather Cock heard 
 it; and he heard it, but he never stirred. 
 
 "It's all stupid stufif!" said a voice within the Weather 
 Cock. "The Yard Cock does not lay eggs, and I am too 
 lazy to lay any. If I liked, I could lay a wind egg; but the 
 world is not worth a wind egg. And now I don't like even 
 to sit here any longer." 
 
 And with this the Weather Cock broke off; but he did not 
 kill the Yard Cock, though he intended to do so, as the hens 
 declared. And what does the moral say? — "Better to crow 
 than to be 'used up' and break off." 
 
 THE OLD GRAVESTONE. 
 
 In a little provincial town, in the time of the year when 
 the people say "the evenings are drawing in," there was one 
 evening quite a social gathering in the home of a father of a 
 family. The weather was still mild and warm. The lamp 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES, 249 
 
 gleamed on the table; the long curtains hung down in folds 
 before the open windows, by which stood many flower pots; 
 and outside, beneath the dark blue sky, was the most beauti- 
 ful moonshine. But they were not talking about this. They 
 were talking about the old great stone which lay below in 
 the courtyard, close by the kitchen door, and on which the 
 maids often laid the clean copper kitchen utensils that they 
 might dry in the sun, and where the children were fond of 
 playing. It was, in fact, an old gravestone. 
 
 "Yes," said the master of the house, "I believe the stone 
 comes from the old convent churchyard; for from the 
 church yonder, the pulpit, the memorial boards, and the 
 gravestones were sold. My father bought the latter, and 
 they were cut in two to be used as paving stones; but that 
 old stone was kept back, and has been lying in the court- 
 yard ever since." 
 
 "One can very well see that it is a gravestone," observed 
 the eldest of the children; "we can still decipher on it an 
 hour-glass and a piece of an angel ; but the inscription which 
 stood below is quite effaced, except that you may read the 
 name Preben, and a great S close behind it, and a little far- 
 ther down the name of Martha. But nothing more can be 
 distinguished, and even that is only plain when it has been 
 raining, or when we have washed the stone." 
 
 ''On my word, that must be the gravestone of Preben 
 Schwane and his wife !" 
 
 These words were spoken by a man; so old that he might 
 well have been the grandfather of all who were present in 
 the room. 
 
 "Yes, they were one of the last pairs who were buried in 
 the old churchyard of the convent. They were an honest 
 old couple. I can remember them from the days of my boy- 
 hood. Everyone knew them, everyone esteemed them. 
 They were the oldest pair here in the town. The people de- 
 clared th"ey had more than a tubful of gold; and yet they 
 went about very plainly dressed, in the coarsest stuffs, but 
 always with splendidly clean linen. They were a fine old 
 pair, Preben and Martha! When both of them sat on the 
 bench at the top of the steep stone stairs in front of the 
 house, with the old linden tree spreading its branches above 
 them, and nodded at one in their kind, gentle way, it seemed 
 quite to do one good. They were very kind to the poor; 
 
250 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 they fed them and clothed them; and there was judgment 
 in their benevolence and true Christianity. The old wo- 
 man died first; that day is still quite clear before my mind. 
 I was a little boy, and had accompanied my father over 
 there, and we were just there when she fell asleep. The 
 old man was very much moved and wept like a child. The 
 corpse lay in the room next to the one where we sat; and 
 he spoke to my father and to a few neighbors who were 
 there, and said how lonely it would be now in his house, and 
 how good and faithful she (his dead wife) had been, how 
 many years they had wandered together through life, and 
 how it came about that they came to know each other and 
 to fall in love. I was, as I have told you, a boy, and only 
 stood by and listened to what the others said; but it filled 
 me with quite a strange emotion to listen to the old man, 
 and to watch how his cheeks gradually flushed red when he 
 spoke of the days of their courtship, and how beautiful she 
 was, how many little innocent pretexts he had invented to 
 meet her. And then he talked of the wedding day and his 
 eyes gleamed; he seemed to talk himself back into that time 
 of joy. And yet she was lying in the next room — dead — 
 an old woman; and he was an old man, speaking of the past 
 days of hope! Yes, yes, thus it is! Then I was but a child, 
 and now I am old — as old as Preben Schwane was then. 
 Time passes away, and all things change. I can very well 
 remember the day when she was buried, and how Preben 
 Schwane walked close behind the cofiin. A few years be- 
 fore, the couple had caused their gravestone to be prepared, 
 and their names to be engraved on it, with the inscription, 
 all but the date. In the evening the stone was taken to the 
 churchyard, and laid over the grave; and the year afterward 
 it was taken up, that old Preben Schwane might be laid to 
 rest beside his wife. They did not leave behind them any- 
 thing like the wealth people had attributed to them; what 
 there was went to families distantly related to them — to 
 people of whom, until then, one had known nothing. The 
 old wooden house, with the seat at the top of the steps, be- 
 neath the lime tree, was taken down by the corporation; It 
 was too old and rotten to be left standing. Afterward, 
 when the same fate befell the convent church, and the 
 graveyard was leveled, Preben and Martha's tombstone was 
 sold, like everything else, to anyone who would buy it, and 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 251 
 
 that is how it has happened that this stone was not hewn in 
 two, as many another has been, but that it still lies below in 
 the yard as a scouring bench for the maids and a plaything 
 for the children. The high road now goes over the resting 
 place of old Preben and his wife. No one thinks of them 
 any more." 
 
 And the old man, who had told all this, shook his head 
 scornfully. 
 
 "Forgotten! Everything will be forgotten!'' he said. 
 
 And then they spoke in the room of other things ; but the 
 youngest child, a boy with great serious eyes, mounted up 
 on a chair behind the window-curtains, and looked out into 
 the yard, where the moon was pouring its radiance over the 
 old stone — the old stone that had always appeared to him 
 so tame and flat, but which lay there now Hke a great leaf of 
 a book of chronicles. All that the boy had heard about old 
 Preben and his wife seemed concentrated in the stone; and 
 he gazed at it, and looked at the pure, bright moon and up 
 into the clear air, and it seemed as though the countenance 
 of the Creator was beaming over His world. 
 
 "Forgotten! Everything will be forgotten!" was repeated 
 in the room. 
 
 But in that moment an invisible angel kissed the boy's 
 forehead, and whispered to him: 
 
 "Preserve the seed corn that has been entrusted to thee, 
 that it may bear fruit. Guard it well! Through thee, my 
 child, the obliterated inscription on the old tombstone shall 
 be chronicled in golden letters to future generations! The 
 old pair shall wander again arm in arm through the street, 
 and smile, and sit with their fresh, healthy faces under the 
 lime tree on the bench by the steep stairs, and nod at rich 
 and poor. The seed corn of this hour shall ripen in the 
 course of time to a blooming poem. The beautiful and the 
 good shall not be forgotten; it shall live on in legend and in 
 song," 
 
 THE OLD BACHELOR'S NIGHTCAP. 
 
 There is a street in Copenhagen that has this strange name 
 — "Hysken Strade." Whence comes this name and what is 
 its meaning? It is said to be German; but injustice has 
 
252 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 been done to the Germans in this matter, for it would have 
 had to be "Hauschen," and not "Hysken." For here stood, 
 once upon a time, and indeed for a great many years, a few 
 httle houses, which were principally nothing more than 
 mere wooden booths, just as we see now in the market 
 places at fair time. They were, perhaps, a little larger, and 
 had windows; but the panes consisted of horn or bladder, 
 for glass was then too expensive to be used in every house. 
 But then we are speaking of a long time ago — so long since, 
 that grandfather and great-grandfather, when they talked 
 about them, used to speak of them as "the old times" — in 
 fact, it is several centuries ago. 
 
 The rich merchants in Bremen and Lubeck carried on 
 trade with Copenhagen. They did not reside in the town 
 themselves, but sent their clerks, who lived in the wooden 
 booths in the Hauschen Street, and sold beer and spices. 
 The German beer was good, and there were many kinds of 
 it, as there were, for instance, Bremen, and Prussinger, and 
 Sous beer, and even Brunswick mumm; and quantities 
 of spices were sold — saffron, and aniseed, and ginger, and 
 especially pepper. Yes, pepper was the chief article here; 
 and so it happened that the German clerks got the nickname 
 "pepper gentry"; and there was a condition made with them 
 in Lubeck and in Bremen, that they would not marry at 
 Copenhagen, and man}^ of them became very old. They 
 had to care for themselves, and to look after their own com- 
 forts, and to put out their own fires — when they had any; 
 and some of them became very solitary old boys, with ec- 
 centric ideas and eccentric habits. From them all unmar- 
 ried men, who have attained a certain age, are called in 
 Denmark "pepper gentry"; and this must be understood by 
 all who wish to comprehend this history. 
 
 "The "pepper gentleman" becomes a butt for ridicule, and 
 is continually told that he ought to put on his nightcap, and 
 draw it down over his eyes, and do nothing but sleep. The 
 boys sing: 
 
 Cut, cut wood, 
 
 Poor bachelor so good. 
 
 Go, take your nightcap, go to rest, 
 
 For 'tis the nightcap suits you best! 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 253 
 
 Yes, that's what they sing about the "pepperer" — thus they 
 make game of the poor bachelor and his nightcap, and turn 
 it into ridicule, just because they know very little about 
 either. Ah, that kind of nightcap no one should wish to 
 earn! And why not? We shall hear. 
 
 In the old times the "Housekin Street" was not paved, 
 and the people stumbled out of one hole into another, as in 
 a neglected byway; and it was narrow, too. The booths 
 leaned side by side, and stood so close together that in the 
 summer time a sail was often stretched from one booth to its 
 opposite neighbor, on which occasion the fragrance of pep- 
 per, saffron, and ginger became doubly powerful. Behind 
 the counters young men were seldom seen. The clerks 
 were generally old boys ; but they did not look like what we 
 should fancy them, namely, with wig, and nightcap, and 
 plush small clothes, and with waistcoat and coat buttoned 
 up to the chin. No, grandfather's great-grandfather may 
 look like that, and has been thus portrayed, but the "pepper 
 gentry" had no superfluous means, and accordingly did not 
 have their portraits taken ; though, indeed, it would be inter- 
 esting now to have a picture of one of them, as he stood be- 
 hind the counter or went to church on holy days. His hat 
 was high-crowned and broad-brimmed, and sometimes one 
 of the youngest clerks would mount a feather. The woolen 
 shirt was hidden behind a broad, clean collar, the close 
 jacket was buttoned up to the chin, and the cloak hung 
 loose over it; and the trousers were tucked into the broad- 
 toed shoes, for the clerks did not wear stockings. In their 
 girdles they sported a dinner knife and spoon, and a larger 
 knife was placed there also for the defense of the owner; 
 and this weapon was often very necessary. Just so was An- 
 thony, one of the oldest of the clerks, clad on high days and 
 holy days, except that, instead of a high-crowned hat, he 
 wore a low bonnet, and under it a knitted cap (a regular 
 nightcap), to which he had grown so accustomed that it 
 was always on his head; and he had two of them — night- 
 caps, of course. The old fellow was a subject for a painter. 
 He was as thin as a lath, had wrinkles clustering round his 
 eyes and mouth, and long, bony fingers, and bushy gray 
 eyebrows; over the left eye hung quite a tuft of hair, and 
 that did not look very handsome, though it made him very 
 noticeable. People knew that he came from Bremen; but 
 
254 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 that was not his native place, though his master lived there. 
 His own native place was in Thiiringia, the town of Eise- 
 nach, close by the Wartburg. Old Anthony did not speak 
 much of this, but he thought of it all the more. 
 
 The old clerks of the Hauschen Street did not often come 
 together. Each one remained in his booth, which was 
 closed early in the evening; and then it looked dark enough 
 in the street; only a faint glimmer of light forced its way 
 through the little horn pane in the roof; and in the booth 
 sat, generally on his bed, the old bachelor, his German hymn 
 book in his hand, singing an evening psalm in a low voice ; 
 or he went about in the booth till late into the night, and 
 busied himself about all sorts of things. It was certainly 
 not an amusing life. To be a stranger in a strange land is 
 a bitter lot; nobody cares for you, unless you happen to get 
 in anybody's way. 
 
 Often when it was dark night outside, with snow and rain, 
 the place looked very gloomy and lonely. No lamps were 
 to be seen, with the exception of one solitary light hanging 
 before the picture of the Virgin that was fastened against 
 the wall. The plash of the water against the neighboring 
 rampart at the castle wharf could be plainly heard. Such 
 evenings are long and dreary, unless people devise some 
 employment for themselves. There is not always packing 
 or unpacking to do, nor can the scales be polished or paper 
 bags be made continually; and, failing these, people should 
 devise other employment for themselves. And that is just 
 what old Anthony did; for he used to mend his clothes and 
 put pieces on his boots. When he at last sought his couch, 
 he used from habit to keep his nightcap on. He drew it 
 down a little closer; but soon he would push it up again, 
 to see if the light had been properly extinguished. He 
 would touch it, press the wick together, and then lie down 
 on the other side, and draw his nightcap down again; but 
 then a doubt would come upon him, if every coal in the little 
 fire-pan below had been properly deadened and put out — 
 a tiny spark might have been left burning, and might set 
 fire to something and cause damage. And therefore he 
 rose from his bed, and crept down the ladder, for it could 
 scarcely be called a stair. And when he came to the fire- 
 pan, not a spark was to be discovered, and he might just go 
 back again. But often, when he had gone half of the way 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 255 
 
 back, it would occur to him that the shutters might not be 
 securely fastened; yes, then his thin legs must carry him 
 downstairs once more. He was cold, and his teeth chat- 
 tered in his mouth when he crept back again to bed; for the 
 cold seems to become doubly severe when it knows it can- 
 not stay much longer. He drew up his coverlet closer 
 around him, and pulled down the nightcap lower over his 
 brows, and turned his thoughts away from trade and from 
 the labors of the day. But that did not procure him agree- 
 able entertainment; for now old thoughts came and put up 
 their curtains, and these curtains have sometimes pins in 
 them, with which one pricks one's self, and one cries out 
 "Oh!" and they prick into one's flesh and burn so, that the 
 tears sometimes come into one's eyes; and that often hap- 
 pened to old Anthon}^ — hot tears. The largest pearls 
 streamed forth, and fell on the coverlet or on the floor, and 
 then they sounded as if one of his heart strings had broken. 
 Sometimes again they seemed to rise up in flame, illuminat- 
 ing a picture of life that never faded out of his heart. If he 
 then dried his eyes in his nightcap, the tear and the picture 
 were indeed crushed, but the source of the tears remained, 
 and welled up afresh from his heart. The pictures did not 
 comiC up in the order in which the scenes had occurred in 
 reality, for very often the most painful would come to- 
 gether; then again the most joyful would come, but these 
 had the deepest shadows of all. 
 
 The beech woods of Denmark are acknowledged to be 
 fine, but the woods of Thviringia arose far more beautiful 
 in the eyes of Anthony. More mighty and more venerable 
 seemed to him the old oaks around the proud knightly cas- 
 tle, where the creeping plants hung down over the stony 
 blocks of the rock; sweeter there bloomed the flowers of 
 the apple tree than in the Danish land. This he remem- ^ 
 bered very vividly. A glittering tear rolled down over his 
 cheek; and in this tear he could plainly see two children 
 playing — a boy and a girl. The boy had red cheeks, and 
 yellow, curling hair, and honest blue eyes. He was the son 
 of the merchant Anthony — it was himself. The little girl 
 had brown eyes and black hair, and had a bright, clever 
 look. She was the burgomaster's daughter Molly. The 
 two were playing with an apple. They shook the apple, 
 and heard the pips rattling in it. Then they cut the apple 
 
256 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 in two, and each of them took a half; they divided even 
 the pips, and ate them all but one, which the little girl pro- 
 posed that they should lay in the earth. 
 
 "Then you shall see," she said, "what will come out. It 
 will be something- you don't at all expect. A whole apple 
 tree will come out, but not directly." 
 
 And she put the pip in a flower pot, and both were very 
 busy and eager about it. The boy made a hole in the earth 
 with his finger, and the little girl dropped the pip in it, and 
 they both covered it with earth. 
 
 "Now, you must not take it out to-morrow to see if it has 
 struck root," said Molly. "That won't do at all. I did it 
 with my flowers; but only twice. I wanted to see if they 
 were growing — and I didn't know any better then — and 
 the plants withered." 
 
 Anthony took away the flower pot, and every morning, 
 the whole winter through, he looked at it; but nothing was 
 to be seen but the black earth. At length, however, the 
 spring came, and the sun shone warm again; and the two 
 little green leaves came up out of the pot. 
 
 "Those are for me and IMolly," said the boy. "That's 
 beautiful — that's marvelously beautiful !" 
 
 Soon a third leaf made its appearance. Whom did that 
 represent? Yes, and there came another, and yet another. 
 Day by day and week by week they grew larger, and the 
 plant began to take the form of a real tree. And all this 
 was now mirrored in a single tear, which was wiped away 
 and disappeared; but it might come again from its source 
 in the heart of old Anthony. 
 
 In the neig-hborhood of Eisenach a row of stony moun- 
 tains rises up. One of these mountains is round in outline, 
 and lifts itself above the rest, naked and without tree, bush, 
 or grass. It is called the V^enus-Mount. In this mountain 
 dwells Lady Venus, one of the deities of the heathen times. 
 She is also called Lady Holle; and every child in and 
 around Eisenach has heard about her. She it was who 
 lured Tannhauser, the noble knight and minstrel, from the 
 circle of the singers of the Wartburg into her mountain. 
 
 Little Mollv and Anthony often stood by this mountain; 
 and once Molly said: 
 
 "You may knock and say, 'Lady Holle, open the door — 
 Tannhauser is here!'" 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 257 
 
 But Anthony did not dare. Molly, however, did it, 
 though she only said the words "Lady Holle, Lady Holle!" 
 aloud and distinctly; the rest she muttered so indistinctly 
 that Anthony felt convinced she had not really said any- 
 thing; and yet she looked as bold and saucy as possible — 
 as saucy as when she sometimes came round him with other 
 little girls in the garden, and all wanted to kiss him because 
 he did not like to be kissed and tried to keep them off; and 
 she was the only one who dared to kiss him in spite of his 
 resistance, 
 
 "I may kiss him!" she would say proudly. 
 
 That was her vanity; and Anthony submitted, and 
 thought no more about it. 
 
 How charming and how teasing Molly was. It was said 
 that Lady Holle in the mountain was beautiful also, but that 
 her beauty was like that of a tempting fiend. The greatest 
 beauty and grace was possessed by Saint Elizabeth, the 
 patron of the country, the pious Princess of Thuringia, 
 whose good actions have been immortalized in many places 
 in legends and stories. In the chapel her picture hung, sur- 
 rounded by silver lamps; but it was not in the least like 
 Molly. 
 
 The apple tree which the two children had planted grew 
 year by year, and became taller and taller — so tall, that it 
 had to be transplanted into the garden, into the fresh air, 
 where the dew fell and the sun shone warm. And the tree 
 developed itself strongly so that it could resist the winter. 
 And it seemed as if, after the rigor of the cold season was 
 past, it put forth blossoms in spring for very joy. In the 
 autumn it brought two apples — one for Molly and one for 
 Anthony. It could not well have produced less. 
 
 The tree had grown apace, and Molly grew like the tree. 
 She was as fresh as an apple blossom; but x^nthony was 
 not long to behold this flower. All things change! Molly's 
 father left his old home, and Alolly went with him, far 
 away. Yes, in our time steam has made the journey they 
 took a matter of a few hours, but then more than a day and 
 a night were necessary to go so far eastward from Eisenach 
 to the farthest border of Thuringia, to the city which is still 
 called Weimar. 
 
 And Molly wept, and Anthony wept; but all their tears 
 melted into one, and this tear had the rosy, ch^rvfmf^JuuA 
 n 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 WASHINGTON 
 
 UNlVER-l 5 V 
 ST. LOUIS ^'>&: 
 
258 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 of joy. For Molly told him she loved him — loved him more 
 than all the splendors of Weimar. 
 
 One, two, three years went by, and during this period 
 two letters were received. One came by a carrier, and a 
 traveler brought the other. The way was long and diffi- 
 cult, and passed through many windings by towns and vil- 
 lages. 
 
 Often had Molly and Anthony heard of Tristram and 
 Iseult, and often had the boy applied the story to himself 
 and Molly, though the name Tristram was said to mean 
 "born in tribulation;" and that did not apply to Anthony, 
 nor would he ever be able to think, like Tristram, "She has 
 forgotten me." But, indeed, Iseult did not forget her faith- 
 ful knight; and when both were laid to rest in the earth, 
 one on each side of the church, the linden trees grew from 
 their graves over the church roof, and there encountered 
 each other in bloom; Anthony thought that was beautiful 
 but mournful; but it could not become mournful be- 
 tween him and Molly; and he whistled a song of the old 
 minnesinger, Walter of the Vogelvede: 
 
 Under the lindens 
 Upon the heath. 
 
 And especially that passage appeared charming to him: 
 
 From the forest, down in the vale, 
 Sang her sweet song the nightingale. 
 
 This song was often in his mouth, and he sang and 
 whistled it in the moonlight night, when he rode along the 
 deep hollow way on horseback to get to Weimar and visit 
 Molly. He wished to come unexpectedly, and he came un- 
 expectedly. 
 
 He was made welcome with full goblets of wine, with 
 jovial company, fine company, and a pretty room and a 
 good bed were provided for him; and yet his reception v-as 
 not what he had dreamed and fancied it would be. He 
 could not understand himself — he could not understand the 
 others; but we can understand it. One may be admitted 
 into a house and associate with a family without becoming 
 one of them. One may converse together as one would 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 259 
 
 converse in a post-carriage, and know one another as peo- 
 ple know each other on a journey, each incommoding the 
 other and wishing that either one's self or the good neigh- 
 bor were away. Yes, that was the kind of thing Anthony 
 felt. 
 
 "I am an honest girl," said Molly, "and I myself will tell 
 you what it is. Much has changed since we were children 
 together — changed inwardly and outwardly. Habit and 
 will have no power over our hearts. Anthony, I should not 
 like to have an enemy in you, now that I shall soon be far 
 away from here. Believe me, I entertain the best wishes for 
 you; but to feel for you what I know now one may feel for 
 a man, has never been the case with me. You must recon- 
 cile yourself to this. Farewell, Anthony." 
 
 And Anthony bade her farewell. No tear came into his 
 eye, but he felt that he was no longer Molly's friend. Hot 
 iron and cold iron alike take the skin from our lips, and 
 we have the same feeling when we kiss it; and he kissed 
 himself into hatred as into love. 
 
 Within twenty-four hours Anthony was back in Eisenach, 
 though certainly the horse on which he rode was ruined. 
 
 "What matter!" he said; "I am ruined, too; and I will 
 destroy everything that can remind me of her, or of Lady 
 Holle, or Venus, the heathen woman! I will break down 
 the apple tree and tear it up by the roots, so that it shall 
 never bear flower or fruit more!" 
 
 But the apple tree was not broken down, though he 
 himself was broken down, and bound on a couch by fever. 
 What was it that raised him up again? A medicine was 
 presented to him which had strength to do this — the bitter- 
 est of medicines, that shakes up body and spirit together. 
 Anthony's father ceased to be the richest of merchants. 
 Heavy days — days of trial — were at the door; misfortune 
 came rolling into the house like great waves of the sea. 
 The father became a poor man. Sorrow and sufifering took 
 away his strength. Then Anthony had to think of some- 
 thing else besides nursing his love sorrows and his anger 
 against Molly. He had to take his father's place — to give 
 orders, to help, to act energetically, and at last to go out 
 into the world and earn his bread. 
 
 Anthony went to Bremen. There he learned what pov- 
 
260 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 erty and hard living meant; and these sometimes make the 
 heart hard, and sometimes soften it, even too much. 
 
 How different the world was, and how different the peo- 
 ple were from what he had supposed them to be in his 
 childhood! What were the minnesinger's songs to him 
 now? — an echo, a vanishing sound! Yes, that is what he 
 thought sometimes; but again the songs would sound in 
 his soul, and his heart became gentle. 
 
 "God's will is best!" he would say then, "It was well 
 that I was not permitted to keep Molly's heart — that she did 
 not remain true to me. What would it have led to now, 
 when fortune has turned away from me? She quitted me 
 before she knew of this loss of prosperity, or had any no- 
 tion of what awaited me. That was a mercy of Providence 
 toward me. Everything has happened for the best. It was 
 not her fault — and I have been so bitter, and have shown 
 so much rancor toward her." 
 
 And years went by. Anthony's father was dead, and 
 strangers lived in the old house. But Anthony was destined 
 to see it again. His rich employer sent him on commercial 
 journeys and his duty led him into his native town of 
 Eisenach. The old Wartburg stood unchanged on the 
 mountain, with "the monk and the nun" hewn out in stone. 
 The great oaks gave to the scene the outlines it had pos- 
 sessed in his childish days. The Venus Mount glimmered 
 gray and naked over the valley. He would have been glad 
 to cry, "Lady Holle, Lady Holle, unlock the door, and I 
 shall enter and remain in m}- native earth!" 
 
 That was a sinful thought, and he blessed himself to drive 
 it away. Then a little bird out of the thicket sang clearly, 
 and the old minne-song came into his mind: 
 
 From the forest down in the vale. 
 Sang her sweet song the nightingale. 
 
 And here in the town of his childhood, which he thus saw 
 again through tears, much came back into his remem- 
 brance. The paternal house stood as in the old times; but 
 the garden was altered, and a field-path led over a portion 
 of the old ground, and the apple tree that he had not broken 
 down stood there, but outside the garden, on the farther side 
 cf the path. But the sun threw its rays on the apple tree as 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 261 
 
 in old days, the dew descended gently upon it as then, and 
 it bore such a burden of fruit that the branches were bent 
 down toward the earth. 
 
 "That flourishes!" he said. "The tree can grow!" 
 
 ■Nevertheless, one of the branches of the tree was broken. 
 Mischievous hands had torn it down toward the ground; 
 fo-r now the tree stood by the public way. 
 
 "They break its blossoms off without a feeling of thank- 
 fulness — they steal its fruit and break the branches. One 
 might say of the tree, as has been said of some men — 'It 
 was not sung at his cradle that it should come thus.' How 
 brightly its history began, and what has it come to? For- 
 saken and forgotten — a garden tree by the hedge, in the 
 field, and on the public way! There it stands unprotected, 
 plundered, and broken! It has certainly not died, but in the 
 course of years the number of blossoms will diminish; at 
 last the fruit will cease altogether; and at last — at last all 
 will be over!" 
 
 Such were Anthony's thoughts under the tree; such were 
 his thoughts during many a night in the lonely chamber 
 of the wooden house in the distant land — in the Hauschen 
 Street in Copenhagen, whither his rich employer, the Bre- 
 men merchant, had sent him, first making it a condition 
 that he should not marry. 
 
 "Marry! Ha, ha!'' he laughed bitterly to himself. 
 
 Winter had set in early; it v^^as freezing hard. Without, 
 a snowstorm was raging, so that everyone who could do 
 so remained at home; thus, too, it happened that those who 
 lived opposite to Anthony did not notice that for two days 
 his house had not been unlocked, and that he did not show 
 himself; for who would go out unnecessarily in such 
 weather? 
 
 They were gray, gloomy days; and in the house, whose 
 windows were not of glass, twilight only alternated with 
 dark night. Old Anthony had not left his bed during the 
 two days, for he had not the strength to rise; he had for a 
 long time felt in his limbs the hardness of the weather. For- 
 saken by all, lay the old bachelor, unable to help himself. 
 He could scarcely reach the water jug that he had placed 
 by his bedside, and the last drop it contained had been con- 
 sumed. It was not fever, nor sickness, but old age that had 
 struck him down. Up yonder, where his couch was placed, 
 
262 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 he was overshadowed, as it were, by continual night. A lit- 
 tle spider, which, however, he could not see, busily and 
 cheerfully spun its web around him, as if it were weaving a 
 little crape banner that should wave when the old man 
 closed his eyes. 
 
 The time was very slow, and long, and dreary. Tears he 
 had none to shed, nor did he feel pain. The thought of 
 Molly never came into his mind. He felt as if the world and 
 its noise concerned him no longer — as if he were lying out- 
 side the world, and no one were thinking of him. For a 
 moment he felt a sensation of hunger — of thirst. Yes, he 
 felt them both. But nobody came to tend him — nobody. 
 He thought of those who had once suffered want; of Saint 
 Elizabeth, as she had once wandered on earth; of her, the 
 saint of his home and of his childhood, the noble Duchess 
 of Thuringia, the benevolent lady who had been accustomed 
 to visit the lowliest cottages, bringing to the inmates re- 
 freshment and comfort. Her pious deeds shone bright 
 upon his soul. He thought of her as she had come to dis- 
 tribute words of comfort, binding up the wounds of the 
 afflicted and giving meat to the hungry, though her stern 
 husband had chidden her for it. He thought of the legend 
 told of her, how she had been carrying the full basket 
 containing food and wine, when her husband, who watched 
 her footsteps, came forth and asked angrily what she was 
 carrying, whereupon she answered, in fear and trembling, 
 that the basket contained roses which she had plucked in 
 the garden ; how he had torn away the white cloth from the 
 basket, and a miracle had been performed for the pious 
 lady; for bread and wine, and everything in the basket, had 
 been transformed into roses! 
 
 Thus the saint's memory dwelt in Anthony's quiet mind; 
 thus she stood bodily before his downcast face, before his 
 warehouse in the simple booth in the Danish land. He un- 
 covered his head, and looked into her gentle eyes, and 
 everything around him was beautiful and roseate. Yes, the 
 roses seemed to unfold themselves in fragrance. There 
 came to him a sweet, peculiar odor of apples, and lie saw 
 a blooming apple tree, which spread its branches above him 
 — it was the tree which Molly and he had planted together. 
 
 And the tree strewed down its fragrant leaves upon him, 
 cooling his burning brow. The leaves fell upon his parched 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 263 
 
 lips, and were like strengthening bread and wine; and they 
 fell upon his breast, and he felt reassured and calm, and in- 
 clined to sleep peacefully. 
 
 "Now I shall sleep," he whispered to himself, "Sleep is 
 refreshing. To.-morrow I shall be upon my feet again, and 
 strong and well — glorious, wonderful! That apple tree, 
 planted in true affection, now stands before me in heavenly 
 radiance " 
 
 And he slept. 
 
 The day afterward — it was the third day that his shop had 
 remained closed— the snowstorm had ceased, and a neigh- 
 bor from the opposite house came over toward the booth 
 where dwelt old Anthony, who had not yet shown himself. 
 Anthony lay stretched upon his bed — dead — with his old 
 cap clutched tightly in his two hands! They did not put 
 that cap on his head in his coffin, for he had a new white 
 one. 
 
 Where were now the tears that he had wept? What had 
 become of the pearls? They remained in the nightcap — 
 and the true ones do not come out in the wash — they were 
 preserved in the nightcap, and in time forgotten; but the 
 old thoughts and the old dreams still remained in the 
 "bachelor's nightcap." Don't wish for such a cap for your- 
 selves. It would make your forehead very hot, would make 
 your pulse beat feverishly, and conjure up dreams which 
 appear like reality. The first who wore that identical cap 
 afterward felt all at once, though it was half a century after- 
 ward; and that man was the burgomaster himself, who, 
 with his wife and eleven children, was well and firmly estab- 
 lished, and had amassed a very tolerable amount of wealth. 
 He was immediately seized with dreams of unfortunate love, 
 of bankruptcy, and of heavy times. 
 
 "Hallo! how the nightcap burns!" he cried, and tore it 
 from his head. 
 
 And a pearl rolled out, and another, and they sounded 
 and glittered. 
 
 "This must be gout," said the burgomaster. "Something 
 dazzles my eyes!" 
 
 They were tears, shed half a century before by old An- 
 thony from Eisenach. 
 
 Everyone who afterward put that nightcap upon his head 
 had visions and dreams which excited him not a little. His 
 
2Gi ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 own history was changed into that of Anthony, and became 
 a story; in fact, many stories. But someone else may tell 
 them. We have told the first. And our last word is — don't 
 wish for "the Old Bachelor's Nightcap." 
 
 A ROSE FROM THE GRAVE OF HOMER. 
 
 All the songs of the East tell of the love of the nightin- 
 gale to the rose; in the silent, starlit nights the winged 
 songster serenades his fragrant flower. 
 
 Not far from Smyrna, under the lofty plantains, where the 
 merchant drives his loaded camels, that proudly lift their 
 long necks and tramp over the holy ground, I saw a hedge 
 of roses. Wild pigeons flew among the branches of the 
 high trees, and their wings glistened, while a sunbeam 
 glided over them, as if they were mother-o'-pearl. 
 
 The rose hedge bore a flower which was the most beauti- 
 ful among all, and the nightingale sang to her of his woes; 
 but the Rose was silent — not a dewdrop lay, like a tear of 
 sympathy, upon her leaves; she bent down over a few great 
 stones. 
 
 "Here rests the greatest singer of the world!" said the 
 Rose; "over his tomb will I pour out my fragrance, and on 
 it I will let fall my leaves when the storm tears them off. 
 He who sang of Troy became earth, and from that earth I 
 have sprung. I, a rose from the grave of Homer, am too 
 lofty to bloom for a poor nightingale!" 
 
 And the nightingale sang himself to death. 
 
 The camel driver came with his loaded camels and his 
 black slaves; his little son found the dead bird, and buried 
 the little songster in the grave of the great Homer. And 
 the rose trembled in the wind. The evening came, and the 
 Rose wrapped her leaves more closely together, and 
 dreamed thus: 
 
 "It was a fair sunshiny day; a crowd of strangers drew 
 near, for they had undertaken a pilgrimage to the grave of 
 'Homer. Among the strangers was a singer from the North, 
 the home of clouds and of the Northern Light. He plucked 
 the Rose, placed it in a book, and carried it away into an- 
 other part of the world, to his distant fatherland. The Rose 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 265 
 
 faded with grief, and lay in the narrow book, which he 
 opened in his home, saying, 'Here is a rose from the grave 
 of Homer.' " 
 
 This the flower dreamed; and she awoke and trembled 
 in the wind. A drop of dew fell from the leaves upon the 
 singer's grave. The sun rose, and the Rose glowed more 
 beauteous than before ; it was a hot day, and she was in her 
 own warm Asia. Then footsteps were heard, and Prankish 
 strangers came, such as the Rose had seen in her dream; 
 and among the strangers was a poet from the North; he 
 plucked the Rose, pressed a kiss upon her fresh mouth, and 
 carried her away to the home of the clouds and of the 
 Northern Light, 
 
 Like a mummy the flower corpse now rests in his "Iliad," 
 and, as in a dream, she hears him open a book and say, 
 "Here is a rose from the grave of Homer." 
 
 THE WIND TELLS ABOUT WALDEMAR DAA 
 AND HIS DAUGHTERS. 
 
 When the wind sweeps across the grass, the field has a 
 ripple like a pond, and when it sweeps across the corn the 
 field waves to and fro like a high sea. That is called the 
 wind's dance; but the wind does not dance only; he also 
 tells stories; and how loudly he can sing out of his deep 
 chest, and how different it sounds in the treetops in the for- 
 est, and through the loopholes and clefts and cracks in 
 walls! Do you see how the wind drives the clouds up yon- 
 der, like a frightened flock of sheep? Do you hear how the 
 wind howls down here through the open valley, like a 
 watchman blowing his horn? With wonderful tones he 
 whistles and screams down the chimney and into the fire- 
 place. The fire crackles and flares up, and shines far into 
 the room, and the little place is warm and snug, and it is 
 pleasant to sit there listening to the sounds. Let the Wind 
 speak, for he knows plenty of stories and fairy tales, many 
 more than are known to any of us. Just hear what the 
 Wind can tell. 
 
266 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "Huh — uh — ush! roar along!" That is the burden of the 
 song. 
 
 "By the shores of the Great Belt, one of the straits that 
 unite the Cattegat with the Baltic, lies an old mansion with 
 thick red walls," says the Wind. "I know every stone in it; 
 I saw it when it still belonged to the castle of Marsk Stig 
 on the promontory. But it had to be pulled down, and the 
 stone was used again for the walls of a new mansion in an- 
 other place, the baronial mansion of Borreby, which still 
 stands by the coast. 
 
 "I knew them, the noble lords and ladies, the changing 
 races that dwelt there, and now I'm going to tell about 
 Waldemar Daa and his daughters. How proudly he car- 
 ried himself — he was of royal blood! He could do more 
 than micrely hunt the stag and empty the wine-can. 'It 
 shall be done,' he was accustomed to say. 
 
 "His wife walked proudly in gold embroidered garments 
 over the polished marble floors. The tapestries were gor- 
 geous, the furniture was expensive and artistically carved. 
 She had brought gold and silver plate with her into the 
 house, and there was German beer in the cellar. Black; 
 fiery horses neighed in the stables. There was a wealthy 
 look about the house of Borreby at that time, when wealth 
 was still at home there. 
 
 "Four children dwelt there also; three delicate maidens, 
 Ida, Joanna, and Anna Dorothea. I have never forgotten 
 their names. 
 
 "They were rich people, noble people, born in affluence, 
 nurtured in af^uence. 
 
 "Hush — sh! roar along!" sang the Wind; then he con- 
 tinued: 
 
 "I did not see here, as in other great noble houses, the 
 high-born lady sitting among her women in the great hall 
 turning the spinning-wheel; here she swept the sounding 
 chords of the cithern, and sang to the sound, but not always 
 the old Danish melodies, but songs of a strange land. It 
 was 'live and let live' here; stranger guests came from far 
 and near, the music sounded, the goblets clashed, and I 
 was not able to drown the noise,'' said the Wind. "Osten- 
 tation, and haughtiness, and splendor, and display, and 
 rule were there, but the fear of the Lord was not there. 
 
 "And it was just on the evening of the first day of May," 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 267 
 
 the Wind continued. "I came from the west, and had seen 
 how the ships were being crushed by the waves, with all on 
 board, and flung on the west coast of Jutland. I had hur- 
 ried across the heath, and over Jutland's wood-girt eastern 
 coast, and over the Island of Fiinen, and now I drove over 
 the Great Belt, groaning and sighing. 
 
 "Then I lay down to rest on the shore of Seeland in the 
 neighborhood of the great house of Borreby, where the for- 
 est, the splendid oak forest, still rose. 
 
 "The young men-servants of the neighborhood were col- 
 lecting branches and brushwood under the oak trees; the 
 largest and driest they could find they carried into the vil- 
 lage, and piled them up in a heap, and set them on fire; 
 the men and maids danced, singing in a circle round the 
 blazing pile. 
 
 "I lay quite quiet," continued the Wind; "but I silently 
 touched a branch which had been brought by the handsom- 
 est of the men-servants, and the wood blazed up brightly, 
 blazed up higher than all the rest; and now he was the 
 chosen one, and bore the name of Street-goat, and might 
 choose his Street-lamp first from among the maids; and 
 there was mirth and rejoicing, greater than I had ever heard 
 before in the halls of the rich baronial mansion. 
 
 "And the noble lady drove toward the baronial mansion, 
 with her three daughters, in a gilded carriage drawn by six 
 horses. The daughters were young and fair — three charm- 
 ing blossoms, rose, lily, and pale hyacinth. The mother 
 was a proud tulip, and never acknowledged the salutation of 
 one of the men or maids who paused in their sport to do her 
 honor; the gracious lady seemed a flower that was rather 
 stiff in the stalk. 
 
 "Rose, lily, and pale hyacinth; yes, I saw them all three! 
 Whose lambkins will they one day become? thought I; 
 their Street-goat will be a gallant knight, perhaps a prince. 
 Huh — sh! hurry along! hurry along! 
 
 "Yes, the carriage rolled on with them, and the peasant 
 people resumed their dancing. They rode that summer 
 through all the villages round about. But in the night, 
 when I rose again," said the Wind, "the very noble lady lay 
 down, to rise again no more; that thing came upon her 
 which comes upon all — there is nothing new in that. 
 
 "Waldemar Daa stood for a space silent and thoughtful. 
 
268 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 'The proudest tree can be bowed without being broken,' 
 said a voice within him. His daughters wept, and all the 
 people in the mansion wiped their eyes; but Lady Daa had 
 driven away — and I drove away, too, and rushed along — 
 huh--sh!" said the Wind. 
 
 "I returned again; I often returned again over the Island 
 of Fiinen and the shores of the Belt, and I sat down by 
 Borreby, by the splendid oak wood; there the heron made 
 his nest, and wood pigeons haunted the place, and blue 
 ravens, and even the black stork. It was still spring ; some 
 of them were 3^et sitting on their eggs, others had already 
 hatched their young. But how the}^ fiew up, how they 
 cried! The ax sounded, blow upon blow, the v/ood was to 
 be felled. Waldemar Daa wanted to build a noble ship, a 
 man-of-war, a three-decker, which the King would be sure 
 to buy; and therefore the wood must be felled, the land- 
 mark of the seamen, the refuge of the birds. The hawk 
 started up and flew away, for its nest was destroyed; the 
 heron and all the birds of the forest became homeless, and 
 flew about in fear and in anger; I could well understand 
 how they felt. Crows and ravens croaked aloud as if in 
 scorn. 'Crack! crack! the nest cracks, cracks, cracks!' 
 
 "Far in the interior of the wood, where the noisy laborers 
 were working, stood Waldemar Daa and his three daugh- 
 ters; and all laughed at the wild cries of the birds; only 
 one, the youngest, Anna Dorothea, felt grieved in her 
 heart; and when they made preparations to fell a tree that 
 was almost dead, and on whose naked branches the black 
 stork had built his nest, whence the little storks were 
 stretching out their heads, she begged for mercy for the lit- 
 tle things, and the tears came into her eyes. Therefore the 
 tree with the black stork's nest was left standing. The tree 
 was not worth speaking of. 
 
 "There was a great hewing and sawing, and a three- 
 decker was built. The architect was of low origin, but of 
 great pride; his eyes and forehead told how clever he was, 
 and Waldemar Daa was fond of listening to him, and so 
 was Waldemar's daughter Ida, the eldest, who was now 
 fifteen years old; and while he built a ship for the father, 
 he was building for himself an airy castle into which he and 
 Ida were to go as a married couple — which might indeed 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 269 
 
 have happened, if the castle with stone walls, and ramparts, 
 and moats had remained. But in spite of his wise head, the 
 architect remained but a poor bird; and, indeed, what busi- 
 ness has a sparrow to take part in a dance of peacocks? 
 Huh — sh! I careered away, and he careered away, too, for 
 he was not allowed to stay; and little Ida very soon got 
 over it, because she was obliged to get over it. 
 
 "The proud black horses were neighing in the stable; 
 they were worth looking at, and accordingly they were 
 looked at. The Admiral, who had been sent by the King 
 himself to inspect the new ship and take measures for its 
 purchase, spoke loudly in admiration of the beautiful 
 horses. 
 
 'T heard all that," said the Wind. "I accompanied the 
 gentlemen through the open door, and strewed blades of 
 straw like bars of gold before their feet. Waldemar Daa 
 wanted to have gold, and the Admiral wished for the proud 
 black horses, and that is why he praised them so much ; but 
 the hint was not taken, and consequently the ship was not 
 bought. It remained on the shore covered over with 
 boards, a Noah's ark that never got to the water — Huh — sh ! 
 rush away ! away ! — and that was a pity. 
 
 "In the winter, when the fields were covered with snow, 
 and the water with large blocks of ice that I blew up to the 
 coast," continued the Wind, "crows and ravens came, all as 
 black as might be, great flocks of them, and alighted on the 
 dead, deserted, lonely ship by the shore, and croaked in 
 hoarse accents of the wood that was no more, of the many 
 pretty birds' nests destroyed, and the little ones left without 
 a home ; and all for the sake of that great bit of lumber, that 
 proud ship that never sailed forth. 
 
 "I made the snowflakes whirl, and the snow lay like a 
 great lake high around the ship, and drifted over it. I let 
 it hear my voice, that it might know what a storm has to 
 say. Certainly I did my part toward teaching it seaman- 
 ship. Huh — sh! push along! 
 
 "And the winter passed away; winter and summer, both 
 passed away, and they are still passing away, even as I pass 
 away; as the snow whirls along, and the apple blossom 
 whirls along, and the leaves fall — away! away! — and men 
 are passing away, too! 
 
 "But the daughters were still young, and little Ida was a 
 
270 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 rose, as fair to look upon as on the day when the architect 
 saw her. I often seized her long brown hair, when she 
 stood in the garden by the apple tree, musing, and not heed- 
 ing how I strewed blossoms on her hair, and loosened it, 
 while she was gazing at the red sun and the golden sky, 
 through the dark underwood and the trees of the garden. 
 
 "Her sister was bright and slender as a lily. Joanna had 
 height and deportment, but was like her mother, rather 
 stiff in the stalk. She was very fond of walking through the 
 great hall, where hung the portraits of her ancestors. The 
 women were painted in dresses of silk and velvet, with a 
 tiny little hat embroidered with pearls, on their plaited hair. 
 They were handsome women. The gentlemen were repre- 
 sented clad in steel, or in costly cloaks lined with squirrels' 
 skins; they wore little ruffs, and swords at their sides, but 
 not buckled to their hips. Where would Joanna's picture 
 find a place on that wall some day? and how would he look, 
 her noble lord and husband? This is what she thought of, 
 and of this she spoke softly to herself. I heard it, as I swept 
 into the long hall, and turned round to come out again. 
 
 "Anna Dorothea, the pale hyacinth, a child of fourteen, 
 was quiet and thoughtful; her great, deep blue eyes had a 
 musing look, but the childlike smile still played around her 
 lips; I was not able to blow it away, nor did I wish to do so. 
 
 "We met in the garden, in the hollow lane, in the field and 
 meadow; she gathered herbs and flowers which she knew 
 would be useful to her father in concocting the drinks and 
 drops he distilled. Waldemar Daa was arrogant and proud, 
 but he was also a learned man, and knew a great deal. That 
 was no secret, and many opinions were expressed concern- 
 ing it. In his chimney there was a fire even in summ^er 
 time. He would lock the door of his room, and for days the 
 fire would be poked and raked; but of this he did not talk 
 much — the forces of nature must be conquered in silence; 
 and soon he would discover the art of making the best 
 thing of all — the red gold. 
 
 "That is why the chimney was always smoking, therefore 
 the flames crackled so frequently. Yes, I was there, too," 
 said the Wind. " 'Let it go,' I sang down through the 
 chimney; 'it will end in smoke, air, coals, and ashes! You 
 will burn yourself! Hu-uh-ush ! drive away! drive away!' 
 But Waldemar Daa did not drive it away. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 271 
 
 "The splendid black horses in the stable — what became of 
 them? What became of the old gold and silver vessels in 
 cupboards and chests, the cows in the fields, and the house 
 and home itself? Yes, they may melt, may melt in the 
 golden crucible, and yet yield no gold. 
 
 "Empty grew the barns and store rooms, the cellars and 
 magazines. The servants decreased in number, and the 
 mice multiplied. Then a window broke, and then another, 
 and I could get in elsewhere besides at the door," said the 
 Wind. " 'Where the chimney smokes the meal is being 
 cooked,' the proverb says. But here the chimney smoked 
 that devoured all the meals, for the sake of the red gold, 
 
 "1 blew through the courtyard gate like a watchman 
 blowing his horn," the Wind went on, "but no watchman 
 was there, I twirled the weather cock round on the summit 
 of the tower, and it creaked like the snoring of the warder, 
 but no warder was there; only mice and rats were there. 
 Poverty laid the table cloth; poverty sat in the wardrobe 
 and in the larder; the door fell off its hinges, cracks and 
 fissures made their appearance, and I went in and out at 
 pleasure ; and that is how I know all about it. 
 
 "Amid smoke and ashes, amid sorrow and sleepless 
 nights, the hair and beard of the master turned gray, and 
 deep furrows showed themselves around his temples; his 
 skin turned pale and yellow, as his eyes looked greedily for 
 the gold, the desired gold. 
 
 "I blew the smoke and ashes into his face and beard; the 
 result of his labor was debt instead of pelf. I sung through 
 the burst window panes and the yawning clefts in the walls. 
 I blew into the chests of drawers belonging to the daugh- 
 ters, wherein lay the clothes that had become faded and 
 threadbare from being worn over and over again. That 
 was not the song that had been sung at the children's cra- 
 dle. Thelordlylife had changed to a life of penury. I was the 
 only one who rejoiced aloud in that castle," said the Wind, 
 "I snowed them up, and they say snow keeps people warm. 
 They had no wood, and the forest from which they might 
 have brought it was cut down. It was a biting frost. I 
 rushed in through loopholes and passages, over gables and 
 roofs, that I might be brisk. They were lying in bed be- 
 cause of the cold, three high-born daughters, and their 
 father was crouching under his leathern coverlet. Nothing 
 
272 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 to bite, nothing to break, no fire on the hearth — there was 
 a hfe for high-born people! Hush-sh! Let it go! But this 
 is what my Lord Daa could not do — he could not let it go. 
 
 " 'After winter comes spring,' he said. 'After want, good 
 times will come; one must not lose patience; one must 
 learn to wait! Now my house and lands are mortgaged, it 
 is indeed high time; and the gold will soon come. At 
 Easter!' 
 
 "I heard how he spoke thus, looking at a spider's web. 
 'Thou cunning little weaver, thou dost teach me perse- 
 verance. Let them tear thy web, and thou wilt begin it 
 again, and complete it. Let them destroy it again, and thou 
 wilt resolutely begin to work again — again! That is what 
 we must do, and that will repay itself at last.' 
 
 "It was the morning of Easter day. The bells sounded 
 from the neighboring church, and the sun seemed to rejoice 
 in the sky. The master had watched through the night in 
 feverish excitement, and had been melting and cooling, dis- 
 tilling and mixing. I 'heard him sighing like a soul in de- 
 spair; I heard him praying, and Lnoticed how he held his 
 breath. The lamp was burned out, but he did not notice 
 it. I blew fiercely at the fire of coals, and it threw its red 
 glow upon his ghastly white face, lighting it up with a glare, 
 and his sunken eyes looked forth wildly out of their deep 
 sockets — but they became larger and larger, as though they 
 would burst. 
 
 "Look at the alchymic glass! It glows in the crucible red, 
 hot, and pure and heavy! He lifted it with a trembling 
 hand, and cried with a trembling voice, 'Gold! gold!' 
 
 "He was quite dizzy — I could have blown him down," 
 said the Wind; "but I only fanned the glowing coals, and 
 accompanied him through the door to where his daughters 
 sat shivering. His coat was powdered with ashes, and 
 there were ashes in his beard and in his tangled hair. He 
 stood straight up, and held his costly treasure on high, in 
 the brittle glass. 'Found, found! — Gold, gold!' he shouted, 
 and again held aloft the glass to let it flash in the sunshine; 
 but his hand trembled, and the alchymic glass fell clattering 
 to the ground, and broke into a thousand pieces; and the 
 last bubble of his happiness had burst! Hu — uh-sh! rush- 
 ing away! — and I rushed away from the gold-maker's 
 house. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 273 
 
 "Late in the autumn, when the days are short, and the 
 mist comes and strews cold drops upon the berries and leaf- 
 less branches, I came back in fresh spirits, rushed through 
 the air, swept the sky clear, and snapped the dry twigs — 
 which is certainly no great labor, but yet it must be done. 
 Then there was another kind of sweeping clean at Walde- 
 mar Daa's in the mansion of Borreby. His enemy. Owe 
 Rainel, of Basnas, was there with the mortgage of the 
 house and everything it contained in his pocket. I 
 drummed against the broken window panes, beat against 
 the old rotten doors, and whistled through cracks and rifts 
 ■ — huh-sh ! Mr. Owe Rainel did not like staying there. Ida 
 •and Anna Dorothea wept bitterly; Joanna stood pale and 
 proud, and bit her thumb till it bled — but what could that 
 avail? Owe Rainel oflfered to allow Waldemar Daa to re- 
 main in the mansion till the end of his life, but no thanks 
 were given him for his offer. I listened to hear what oc- 
 curred. I saw the ruined gentleman lift his head and throw 
 it back prouder than ever, and I rushed against the house 
 and the old lime trees with such force, that one of the thick- 
 est branches broke, one that was not decayed; and the 
 branch remained lying at the entrance as a broom when 
 anyone wanted to sweep the place out; and a grand sweep- 
 ing out there was — I thought it would be so. 
 
 "It was hard on that day to preserve one's composure; 
 but their will was as hard as their fortune. 
 
 "There was nothing they could call their own except the 
 clothes they wore; yes, there was one thing more — the 
 alchymist's glass, a new one that had lately been bought, 
 and filled with what had been gathered up from the ground 
 of the treasure which promised so much, but never kept its 
 promise. Waldemar Daa hid the glass in his bosom, and 
 taking his stick in his hand, the once rich gentleman passed 
 with his daughters out of the house of Borreby. I blew 
 cold upon his heated cheeks, I stroked his gray beard and 
 his long white hair, and I sang as well as I could, — 
 'Huh-sh! gone away! gone away!' And that was the end 
 of the wealth and splendor. 
 
 "Ida walked on one side of the old man, and Anna Doro- 
 thea on the other. Joanna turned round at the entrance- 
 why? Fortune would not turn because she did so. She 
 
 18 
 
274 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 looked at the old walls of what had once been the castle of 
 Marsk Stig, and perhaps she thought of his daughters: 
 
 The eldest gave the youngest her hand, 
 And forth they went to the far-off land. 
 
 Was she thinking of this old song? Here were three of 
 them, and their father was with them, too. They walked 
 along the road on which they had once driven in their 
 splendid carriage — they walked forth as beggars, with their 
 father, and wandered out into the open field, and into a mud 
 hut, which they rented for a dollar and a half a year — into 
 their new house with the empty rooms and empty vessels. 
 Crows and magpies fluttered above them, and cried, as if 
 in contempt, 'Craw! craw! out of the nest! craw! craw!' 
 as they had done in the wood at Borreby when the trees 
 were felled. 
 
 "Daa and his daughters could not help hearing it. I 
 blew about their ears, for what use would it be that they 
 should listen? 
 
 "And they went to live in the mud hut on the open field, 
 and I wandered away over moor and field, through bare 
 bushes and leafless forests, to the open waters, the free 
 shores, to other lands — huh-uh-ush! away, away! — year 
 after year!" 
 
 And how did Waldemar Daa and his daughters prosper? 
 The Wind tells us: 
 
 "The one I saw last, yes, for the last time, was Anna 
 Dorothea, the pale hyacinth; then she was old and bent, 
 for it was fifty years afterward. She lived longer than the 
 rest; she knew all. 
 
 "Yonder on the heath, by the Jutland town of Wiborg, 
 stood the fine new house of the cannon, built of red bricks 
 with projecting gables; the smoke came up thickly from 
 the chimney. The cannon's gentle lady and her beautiful 
 daughters sat in the bay windov/, and looked over the haw- 
 thorn hedge of the garden toward the brown heath. What 
 were they looking at? Their glances rested upon the stork's 
 nest without, and on the hut, which was almost falling in; 
 the roof consisted of moss and houseleek, in so far as a 
 roof existed there at all — the stork's nest covered the 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 275 
 
 greater part of it, and that alone was in proper condition, 
 for it was kept in order by the stork himself. 
 
 "That is a house to be looked at, but not to be touched; 
 I must deal gently with it," said the Wind, "For the sake of 
 the stork's nest the hut has been allowed to stand, though 
 it has been a blot upon the landscape. They did not like to 
 drive the stork away, therefore the old shed was left stand- 
 ing, and the poor woman who dwelt in it was allowed to 
 stay; she had the Egyptian bird to thank for that; or was 
 it perchance her reward, because she had once interceded 
 for the nest of its black brother in the forest of Borreby? 
 At that time she, the poor woman, was a young child, a 
 pale hyacinth in the rich garden. She remembered all that 
 right well, did Anna Dorothea. 
 
 "'Oh! oh!' Yes, people can sigh like the wind moaning 
 in the rushes and reeds. 'Oh! oh!' she sighed, 'no bells 
 sounded at thy burial, Waldemar Daa! The poor school- 
 boys did not even sing a psalm when the former Lord of 
 Borreby was laid in the earth to rest! Oh, everything has 
 an end, even misery. Sister Ida became the wife of a peas- 
 ant. That was the hardest trial that befell our father, that 
 the husband of a daughter of his should be a miserable serf, 
 whom the proprietor could mount upon the wooden horse 
 for punishment! I suppose he is under the ground now. 
 And thou, Ida! Alas, alas! it is not ended yet, wretch that 
 I am! Grant me that I may die, kind Heaven!' 
 
 "That was Anna Dorothea's prayer in the wretched hut 
 which was left standing for the sake of the stork. 
 
 "I took pity on the fairest of the sisters," said the Wind. 
 "Her courage was like that of a man, and in man's clothes 
 she took service as a sailor on board a ship. She was spar- 
 ing of words, and of a dark countenance, but willing at her 
 work. But she did not know how to climb; so I blew her 
 overboard before anybody found out that she was a woman, 
 and, according to my thinking, that was well done!" said 
 the Wind. 
 
 "On such an Easter morning as that on which Waldemar 
 Daa had fancied that he had found the red gold, I heard the 
 tones of a psalm under the stork's nest, among the crum- 
 bling walls-r-it was Anna Dorothea's last song. 
 
 "There was no window, only a hole in the wall. The sun 
 rose up like a mass of gold, and looked through. What a 
 
276 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES, 
 
 splendor he diffused! Her eyes and her heart were break- 
 ing — but that they would have done, even if the sun had 
 not shone that morning on Anna Dorothea. 
 
 "The stork covered her hut till her death. I sang at her 
 grave!" said the Wind. "I sang at her father's grave; I 
 know where his grave is, and where hers is, and nobody else 
 knows it. 
 
 "New times, changed times! The old high road runs 
 through cultivated fields; the new road winds among the 
 trim ditches, and soon the railway will come with its train of 
 carriages, and rush over the graves which are forgotten like 
 the names — hu-ush! — passed away! passed away! 
 
 "That is the story of Waldemar Daa and his daughters. 
 Tell it better, any of you, if you know how," said the Wind, 
 and turned away — and he was gone. 
 
 FIVE OUT OF ONE SHELL. 
 
 There were five peas in one shell; they were green, and 
 the pod was green, and so they thought all the world was 
 green; and that was just as it should be. The shell grew 
 and the peas grew; they accommodated themselves to cir- 
 cumstances, sitting all in a row. The sun shone without, 
 and warmed the husk, and the rain made it clear and trans- 
 parent; it was mild and agreeable in the bright day and in 
 the dark night, just as it should be, and the peas as they sat 
 there became bigger and bigger, and more and more 
 thoughtful, for something they must do. 
 
 "Are we to sit here everlastingly?" asked one. "I'm 
 afraid we shall become hard by long sitting. It seems to 
 me there must be something outside — I have a kind of ink- 
 ling of it." 
 
 And weeks went by. The peas became yellow, and the 
 pod also. 
 
 "All the world's turning yellow," said they; and they 
 had a right to say it. 
 
 Suddenly they felt a tug at the shell. The shell was torn 
 off, passed through human hands, and glided down into the 
 pocket of a jacket, in company with other full pods. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 277 
 
 "Now we shall soon be opened!" they said; and that is 
 just what they were waiting for. 
 
 "I should like to know who of us will get farthest!" 
 said the smallest of the five. "Yes, now it will soon show 
 itself." 
 
 "What is to be will be," said the biggest. 
 
 "Crack!" the pod burst, and all the five peas rolled out 
 into the bright sunshine. There they lay in a child's hand. 
 A little boy was clutching them, and said they were fine peas 
 for his pea-shooter; and he put one in directly and shot it 
 out. 
 
 "Now I'm flying out into the wide world, catch me if you 
 can!" And he was gone. 
 
 "I," said the second, "I shall fly straight into the sun. 
 That's a shell worth looking at, and one that exactly suits 
 me." And away he went. 
 
 "We'll go to sleep wherever we arrive," said the two next, 
 "but we shall roll on all the same." And they certainly 
 rolled and tumbled down on the ground before they got 
 into the pea-shooter; but they were put in for all that. 
 "We shall go farthest," said they. 
 
 "What is to happen will happen," said the last, as he was 
 shot forth out of the pea-shooter; and he flew up against 
 the old board under the garret window, just into a crack 
 which was filled up with moss and soft mold; and the moss 
 closed round him; there he lay, a prisoner indeed, but not 
 forgotten by provident nature. 
 
 "What is to happen will happen," said he. 
 
 Within, in the little garret, lived a poor woman, who went 
 out in the day to clean stoves, chop wood small, and to do 
 other hard work of the same kind, for she was strong and 
 industrious, too. But she always remained poor; and at 
 home in the garret lay her half-grown only daughter, who 
 was very delicate and weak; for a whole year she had kept 
 her bed, and it seemed as if she could neither live nor die. 
 
 "She is going to her little sister," the woman said. "I had 
 only the two children, and it was not an easy thing to pro- 
 vide for both, but the good God provided for one of them 
 by taking her home to himself; now I should be glad to 
 keep the other that was left me; but I suppose they are not 
 to remain separated, and my sick girl will go to her sister 
 in heaven." 
 
278 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 But the sick girl remained where she was. She lay quiet 
 and patient all day long, while her mother went to earn 
 money out of doors. It was spring, and early in the morn- 
 ing, just as the mother was about to go out to work, the 
 sun shone mildly and pleasantly through the little window, 
 and threw its rays across the floor; and the sick girl fixed 
 her eyes on the lowest pane in the window. 
 
 "What may that green thing be that looks in at the win- 
 dow? It is moving in the wind." 
 
 And the mother stepped to the window, and half opened 
 it. "Oh!" said she, "on my word, that is a little pea which 
 has taken root here, and is putting out its little leaves. How 
 can it have got into the crack? That is a little garden with 
 which you can amuse yourself." 
 
 And the sick girl's bed was moved nearer to the window, 
 so that she could always see the growing pea; and the 
 mother went forth to her work. 
 
 "Mother, I think I shall get well," said the sick child in 
 the evening. "The sun shone in upon me to-day delight- 
 fully warm. The little pea is prospering famously, and I 
 shall prosper, too, and get up, and go out into the warm 
 sunshine." 
 
 "God grant it," said the mother, but she did not believe 
 it would be so ; but she took care to prop with a little stick 
 the green plant which had given her daughter the pleasant 
 thoughts of life, so that it might not be broken by the wind; 
 she tied a piece of string to the window sill and to the upper 
 part of the frame, so that the pea might have something 
 round which it could twine, when it shot up; and it did 
 shoot up, indeed — one could see how it grew every day. 
 
 "Really, here is a flower coming!" said the v/oman one 
 day; and now she began to cherish the hope that her sick 
 daughter would recover. She remembered that lately the 
 child had spoken much more cheerfully than before, that in 
 the last few days she had risen up in bed of her own accord, 
 and had sat upright, looking with delighted eyes at the lit- 
 tle garden in which only one plant grew. A week afterward 
 the invalid for the first time sat up for a whole hour. Quite 
 happy, she sat there in the warm sunshine ; the window was 
 opened, and outside before it stood a pink pea blossom, 
 fullv blown. The sick girl bent down and gently kissed the 
 delicate leaves. This day was like a festival. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 279 
 
 "The Heavenly Father himself has planted that pea, and 
 caused it to prosper, to be a joy to you, and to me also, my 
 blessed child!" said the glad mother; and she smiled at the 
 flower, as if it had been a good angel. 
 
 But about the other peas? Why, the one who flew out 
 into the wide world, and said, "Catch me if you can," fell 
 into the gutter on the roof, and found a home in a pigeon's 
 crop; the two lazy ones got just as far, for they, too, were 
 eaten up by pigeons, and thus, at any rate, they were of 
 some real use; but the fourth, who wanted to go up into the 
 sun, fell into the sink, and there he lay in the dirty water 
 for weeks and weeks, and swelled prodigiousl;^. 
 
 "How beautifully fat I'm growing!" said the Pea. "I 
 shall burst at last; and I don't think any pea can do more 
 than that. I'm the most remarkable of all the five that were 
 in the shell." 
 
 And the Sink said he was right. 
 
 But the young girl at the garret window stood there with 
 gleaming eyes, with the roseate hue of health on her cheeks, 
 and folded her thin hands over the pea blossom, and 
 thanked Heaven for it. 
 
 "I," said the Sink, "stand up for my own pea." 
 
 THE METAL PIG. 
 
 In the city of Florence, not far from the Piazza del Gran- 
 duca, there runs a little cross street, I think it is called Porta 
 Rosa. In this street, in front of a kind of market hall where 
 vegetables are sold, there lies a Pig artistically fashioned of 
 metal. The fresh, clear water pours from the jaws of the 
 creature, which has become a blackish-green from age; 
 only the snout shines as if it had been polished, and indeed 
 it has been, by many hundreds of children and lazzaroni, 
 who seize it with their hands, and place their mouths close 
 to the mouth of the animal, to drink. It is a perfect picture 
 to see the well-shaped creature clasped by a half-naked boy, 
 who lays his red lips against its jaw. 
 
 Everyone who comes to Florence can easily find the 
 place; he need only ask the first beggar he meets for the 
 Metal Pig, and he will find it. 
 
280 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 It was late on a winter evening. The mountains were 
 covered with snow; but the moon shone, and moonhght in 
 Italy is just as good as the light of a murky Northern win- 
 ter's day; nay, it is better, for the air shines and lifts us up, 
 while in the North the cold, gray, leaden covering seems to 
 press us downward to the earth — the cold damp earth, 
 which will once press down our coffin. 
 
 In the Grand Duke's palace garden, under a penthouse 
 roof, where a thousand roses bloom in winter, a little ragged 
 boy had been sitting all day long, a boy who might serve 
 as a type of Italy, pretty and smiling, and yet suffering. He 
 was hungry and thirsty, but no one gave him anything; 
 and when it became dark, and the garden was to be closed, 
 the porter turned him out. Long he stood musing on the 
 bridge that spans the Arno, and looked at the stars, whose 
 light glittered in the water between him and the splendid 
 marble bridge of Delia Trinita. 
 
 He took his way toward the Metal Pig, half-knelt down, 
 clasped his arms round it, put his mouth against its shining 
 snout, and drank the fresh water in deep draughts. Close 
 by lay a few leaves of salad and one or two chestnuts ; these 
 were his supper. No one was in the street but himself — it 
 belonged to him alone ; and he boldly sat down on the Pig's 
 back, bent forward, so that his curly head rested on the head 
 of the animal, and, before he was aware, fell asleep. 
 
 It was midnight. The ]\Ietal Pig stirred, and he heard it 
 say quite distinctly, "You little boy, hold tight, for now I am 
 going to run,'' and away it ran with him. This was a won- 
 derful ride. First they got to the Piazza del Granduca, and 
 the metal horse, which carries the Duke's statue, neighed 
 aloud, the painted coat of arms on the old covmcil house 
 looked like transparent pictures, and Michael Angelo's 
 "David" swung his sling; there was a strange life stirring 
 among them. The metal groups representin'g persons, and 
 the rape of the Sabines, stood there as if they were alive ; a 
 cry of mortal fear escaped them, and resounded over the 
 splendid square. 
 
 By the Palazzo Degli Uffizi, in the arcade, where the no- 
 bility assembled for the Carnival amusements, the ]\Ietal 
 Pig stopped. "Hold tight," said the creature, "for now we 
 are going upstairs." The little boy spoke not a word, for 
 he was half frightened, half delighted. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 281 
 
 They came into a long gallery where the boy had already 
 been. The walls shone with pictures; here stood statues 
 and busts, all in the most charming light, as if it had been 
 broad day; but the most beautiful of all was when the door 
 of a side room opened; the little boy could remember the 
 splendor that was there, but on this night everything shone 
 in the most glorious colors. 
 
 Here stood a beautiful woman, as radiant in beauty as 
 nature and the greatest master of sculpture could make her; 
 she moved her graceful limbs, dolphins sprang at her feet, 
 and immortality shone out of her eyes. The world calls her 
 the Venus de Medici. By her side are statues in which the 
 spirit of life has been breathed into the stone; they are 
 handsome, unclothed men. One was sharpening a sword, 
 and was called the Grinder; the Wrestling Gladiators 
 formed another group; and the sword was sharpened, and 
 they strove for the Goddess of Beauty. 
 
 The boy was dazzled by all this pomp; the walls gleamed 
 with bright colors, and everything was life and movement. 
 
 What splendor, what beauty shone from hall to hall! and 
 the little boy saw everything plainly, for the Metal Pig went 
 step by step from one picture to another through all this 
 scene of magnificence. Each fresh glor}^ efifaced the last. 
 One picture only fixed itself firmly in his soul especially, 
 through the very happy children introduced into it, for these 
 the little boy fancied he had greeted in the daylight. 
 
 Many persons pass by this picture with indifference, and 
 yet it contains a treasure of poetry. It represents the Savior 
 descending into hell. But these are not the damned whom 
 the spectator sees around him ; they are heathen. The Flor- 
 entine Agniolo Bronzino painted this picture. 'Most beauti- 
 ful is the expression on the faces of the children — the full 
 confidence that they will get to heaven. Two little beings 
 are already embracing, and one little one stretches out his 
 hand toward another who stands below him, and points to 
 himself as if he were saymg, 'T am going to heaven!" The 
 older people stand uncertain, hoping, but bowing in humble 
 adoration before the Lord Jesus. The boy's eyes rested 
 longer on this picture than on any other. The Metal Pig 
 stood still before it. A low sigh was heard; did it come 
 from the picture or from the animal? The boy lifted up his 
 
282 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 hands toward the smihng children; then the Pig ran away 
 with him, away through the open vestibule. 
 
 "Thanks and blessings to yourself," replied the Metal Pig. 
 "I have helped you, and you have helped me, for with only 
 an innocent child on my back do I receive power to run! 
 Yes, you see, I may even step into the rays of the lamp in 
 front of the picture of the Madonna, only I may not go into 
 the church. But from without, when you are with me, I 
 may look in through the open door. Do not get down from 
 my back ; if you do so, I shall lie dead as you see me in the 
 daytime at the Porta Rosa." 
 
 "I will stay with you then, you dear creature!" cried the 
 little boy. 
 
 So they went in hot haste through the streets of Florence, 
 out into the place before the church of Santa Croce. The 
 folding doors flew open, and lights gleamed out from the 
 altar through the church into the deserted square. 
 
 A wonderful blaze of light streamed forth from a monu- 
 ment in the left aisle, and a thousand moving stars seemed 
 to form a glory round it. A coat of arms shone upon the 
 grave, a red letter in a blue field seemed to glow like fire. 
 It was the grave of Galileo. The monument is unadorned, 
 but the red ladder is a significant emblem, as if it were that 
 of art, for in art the way always leads up a burning ladder, 
 toward heaven. The prophets of mind soar vipward toward 
 heaven, like Elias of old. 
 
 To the right, in the aisle of the church, every statue on the 
 richly carved sarcophagi seemed endowed with life. Here 
 stood Michael Angelo, there Dante with the laurel wreath 
 round his brow, Alfieri and Machiavelli; for here the great 
 men, the pride of Italy, rest side by side.* It is a glorious 
 church, far more beautiful than the marble cathedral of 
 Florence, though not so large. 
 
 * Opposite to the grave of Galileo is the tomb of Michael An- 
 gelo. On the monument his bust is displayed, with three figures, 
 representing Sculpture, Painting, and Architecture. Close by is 
 a monument to Dante, whose corpse is interred at Ravenna; on 
 this monument Italy is represented pointing to a colossal statue 
 of the poet, while Poetry weeps over his loss. A few paces far- 
 ther on is Alfieri's monument, adorned with laurel, the lyre, and 
 dramatic masks. Italy weeps at his grave. Machiavelli here 
 closes the series of celebrated men. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 283 
 
 It seemed as if the marble vestments stirred, as if the 
 great forms raised their heads higher and looked up, amid 
 song and music, to the brighter altar glowing with color, 
 where the white-clad boys swing the golden censors; and 
 the strong fragrance streamed out of the church into the 
 open square. 
 
 The boy stretched forth his hand toward the gleaming 
 light, and in a moment the Metal Pig resumed its headlong 
 career; he was obliged to cling tightly; and the wind 
 whistled about his ears; he heard the church door creak on 
 its hinges as it closed; but at the same moment his senses 
 seemed to desert him, he felt a cold shudder pass over him, 
 and awoke. 
 
 It was morning, and he was still sitting on the Metal Pig, 
 which stood where it always stood on the Porta Rosa, and 
 he had slipped half ofif its back. 
 
 Fear and trembling filled the soul of the boy at the 
 thought of her whom he called mother, and who had yester- 
 day sent him forth to bring money; for he had none, and 
 was hungry and thirsty. Once more he clasped his arms 
 round the neck of his metal horse, kissed its lips, and nod- 
 ded farewell to it. Then he wandered away into one of the 
 narrowest streets, where there is scarcely room for a laden 
 ass. A great iron-clamped door stood ajar; he passed 
 through it, and climbed up a brick stair, with dirty walls and 
 a rope for a balustrade, till he came to an open gallery hung 
 with rags; from here a flight of stairs led down into the 
 court, where there was a fountain, and great iron wires led 
 up to the different stories, and many water buckets hung 
 side by side, and at times the roller creaked, and one of the 
 buckets would dance into the air, swaying so that the water 
 splashed out of it down into the courtyard. A second ruin- 
 ous brick staircase here led upward. Two Russian sailors 
 were running briskly down, and almost overturned the poor 
 boy; they were going home from their nightly carouse. A 
 large woman, no longer young, followed them. 
 
 "What do you bring home?" she asked the boy. 
 
 "Don't be angry," he pleaded. "I received nothing — 
 nothing at all." And he seized the mother's dress, and 
 would have kissed it. 
 
 They went into the little room. I will not describe it, but 
 only say that there stood in it an earthen pot with handles, 
 
tU ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 made for holding fire, and called marito. This pot she took 
 in her arms, warmed her fingers, and pushed the boy with 
 her elbow. 
 
 "Certainly you must have brought some money?" said 
 she. 
 
 The boy wept, and she struck him with her foot, so that 
 he cried aloud. 
 
 "Will you be silent, or I'll break your screaming head!" 
 
 And she brandished the fire pot which she held in her 
 hand. The boy crouched down to the earth with a scream 
 of terror. Then a neighbor stepped in, also with a marito in 
 her arms. 
 
 "Felicita," she said, "what are you doing to the child?" 
 
 "The child is mine," retorted Felicita. "I can murder 
 him if I like, and you, too, Giannina." 
 
 And she swung her fire pot. The other lifted up hers in 
 self-defense, and the two pots clashed together with such 
 fury that fragments, fire, and ashes flew about the room; 
 but at the same moment the boy rushed out at the door, 
 sped across the courtyard, and fied from the house. The 
 poor child ran till he was quite out of breath. He stopped 
 by the church, whose great doors had opened to him the 
 previous night, and went in. Everything was radiant. The 
 boy knelt down at the first grave on the right hand, the 
 grave of Michael Angelo, and soon he sobbed aloud. Peo- 
 ple came and went, and mass Avas performed; but no one 
 noticed the boy, only an elderly citizen stood still, looked at 
 him, and then went awa}^ like the rest. 
 
 Hunger and thirst tormented the child; he was quite faint 
 and ill, and he crept into a corner between the marble monu- 
 ments, and went to sleep. Toward evening he was awak- 
 ened by a tug at his sleeve ; he started up, and the same citi- 
 zen stood before him. 
 
 "Are you ill? Where do you live? Have you been here 
 all day?" were three of the many questions the old man 
 asked of him. 
 
 He answered, and the old man took him into his little 
 house, close by, in a back street. They came into a glover's 
 workshop, where a woman sat sewing busily. A little white 
 Spitz dog, so closely shaven that his pink skin could be seen, 
 frisked about on the table and gamboled before the boy. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES, 285 
 
 **Innocent souls soon make acquaintance," said the wo- 
 man. 
 
 And she caressed the boy and the dog. The good people 
 gave the child food and drink, and said he should be per- 
 mitted to stay the night with them; and next day Father 
 Guiseppe would speak to his mother. A little single bed 
 was assigned to him, but for him who had often slept on the 
 hard stones it was a royal couch; and he slept sweetly, and 
 dreamed of the splendid pictures and of the Metal Pig. 
 
 Father Guiseppe went out next morning; the poor child 
 was not glad of this, for he knew that the object of the er- 
 rand was to send him back to his mother. He wept, and 
 kissed the merry little dog, and the woman nodded approv- 
 ingly at both. 
 
 What news did Father Guiseppe bring home? He spoke 
 a great deal with his wife, and she nodded and stroked the 
 boy's cheek. 
 
 "He is a capital lad!" said she. "He may become an 
 accomplished glove maker, like you; and look what deli- 
 cate fingers he has! Madonna intended him for a glove 
 maker." 
 
 And the boy stayed in the house, and the woman herself 
 taught him to sew; he ate well, slept well, and became mer- 
 ry, and began to tease Bellissima, as the little dog was 
 called; but the woman grew angry at this, and scolded and 
 threatened him with her finger. This touched the boy's 
 heart, and he sat thoughtful in his little chamber. This 
 chamber looked upon the street in which skins were dried; 
 there were thick bars of iron before his window. He could 
 not sleep, for the Metal Pig was always present in his 
 thoughts, and suddenly he heard outside a pit-pat. That 
 must be the Pig! He sprang to the window, but nothing 
 was to be seen — it had passed by already. 
 
 "Help the gentleman to carry his box of colors," said the 
 woman next morning to the boy, when their young neigh- 
 bor, the artist, passed by, carrying a paint box and a large, 
 rolled canvas. 
 
 The boy took the box and followed the painter; they be- 
 took themselves to the gallery, and mounted the same stair- 
 case which he remembered well from the night when he had 
 ridden on the Metal Pig. He recognized the statues and 
 pictures, the beautiful marble Venus, and the Venus that 
 
286 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 lived in the picture; and again he saw the Madonna, and the 
 Savior, and St, John. 
 
 They stood still before the picture by Bronzino, in which 
 Christ is descending into hell, and the children smiling 
 around Him in the sweet expectation of heaven. The poor 
 child smiled too, for he felt as if his heaven were here. 
 
 "Go home now," said the painter, when the boy had stood 
 until the other had set up his easel. 
 
 "May I see you paint?" asked the boy. '^May I see you 
 put the picture upon this white canvas?" 
 
 "I am not going to paint yet," replied the man; and he 
 brought out a piece of white chalk. His hand moved 
 quickly; his eye measured the great picture, and though 
 nothing appeared but a thin line, the figure of the Savior 
 stood there, as in the colored picture. 
 
 "Why don't you go?" said the painter. 
 
 And the boy wandered home silently, and seated himself 
 on the table and learned to sew gloves. 
 
 But all day long his thoughts were in the picture gallery; 
 and so it came that he pricked his fingers, and was awk- 
 ward; but he did not tease Bellissima. When the evening 
 came, and when the house door stood open, he crept out; 
 it was cold, but starlight; a bright, beautiful evening. Away 
 he went through the already deserted streets, and soon came 
 to the Metal Pig. He bent down on it, kissed its shining 
 mouth, and seated himself on its back. 
 
 "You happy creature!" he said; "how I have longed for 
 you! You must take a ride to-night." 
 
 The Metal Pig lay motionless, and the fresh stream 
 gushed forth from its mouth. The little boy sat astride on its 
 back; then something tugged at his clothes. He looked 
 down, and there was Bellissima — little smooth-shaven Bel- 
 lissima — barking as if she would have said, "Here am I, too; 
 why are you sitting there!" A fiery dragon could not have 
 terrified the boy so much as did the little dog in this place. 
 Bellissima in the street, and not dressed, as the old lady 
 called it! What would be the end of it? The dog never 
 came out in winter, except attired in a little lamb-skin, 
 which had been cut out and made into a coat for him; it was 
 made to fasten with a red ribbon round the little dog's neck 
 and body, and adorned with bows and with bells. The dog 
 looked almost like a little kid, when in winter he got per- 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 287 
 
 mission to patter out with his mistress. Bellissima was out- 
 side and not dressed! what would be the end of it? All his 
 fancies were put to flight; yet the boy kissed the Metal Pig 
 once more, and then took Bellissima on his arm; the little 
 thing trembled with cold, therefore the boy ran as fast as he 
 could. 
 
 "What are you running away with there?" asked two 
 police soldiers whom he met, and at whom Bellissima 
 barked. "Where have you stolen that pretty dog?" they 
 asked, and they took it away from him. 
 
 "Oh, give it back to me !" cried the boy despairingly. 
 
 "If you have not stolen him, you may say at home that 
 the dog may be sent for from the watch house." And they 
 told him where the watch house was, and went away with 
 Bellissima. 
 
 Here was a terrible calamity! The boy did not know 
 whether he should jump into the Arno, or go home and con- 
 fess everything; they would certainly kill him, he thought. 
 
 "But I will gladly be killed; then I shall die and go to 
 heaven," he reasoned. And he went home, principally v/ith 
 the idea of being killed. 
 
 The door was locked, and he could not reach the knocker; 
 no one was in the street, but a stone lay there and with this 
 he thundered at the door. 
 
 "Who is there?" cried somebody from within. 
 
 "It is I," said he. "The dog is gone. Open the door and 
 then kin me!" 
 
 There was quite a panic. Madame was especially con- 
 cerned for poor Bellissima. She immediately looked at the 
 wall, where the dog's dress usually hung, and there was the 
 little lamb-skin. 
 
 "Bellissima in the watch house!" she cried aloud. "You 
 bad boy! How did you entice her out? She'll be frozen, 
 the poor, delicate little thing! among those rough sol- 
 diers.'' 
 
 The father was at once dispatched — the woman lamented 
 and the boy wept. All the inhabitants of the house came to- 
 gether, and among the rest the painter; he took the boy be- 
 tween his knees and questioned him; and in broken sen- 
 tences he heard the whole story about the Metal Pig and 
 the gallery, which was certainly rather incomprehensible. 
 
 The painter consoled the little fellow, and tried to calm 
 
288 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 the old lady's anger; but she would not be pacified until 
 the father came in with Bellissima, who had been among 
 the soldiers; then there was great rejoicing; and the painter 
 caressed the boy, and gave him a handful of pictures. 
 
 Oh, those were capital pieces — such funny heads! — and 
 truly the Metal Pig was there among them, bodily. Oh, 
 nothing could be more superb ! By means of a few strokes 
 it was made to stand there on the paper, and even the house 
 that stood behind it was sketched in. 
 
 Oh, for the ability to draw and paint! He who could do 
 this could conjure up the whole v^^orld around him! 
 
 On the first leisure moment of the following day, the little 
 fellow seized the pencil, and on the back of one of the pic- 
 tures he attempted to copy the drawing of the Metal Pig, 
 and he succeeded! — it was certainly rather crooked, rather 
 up and down, one leg thick and another thin ; but still it was 
 to be recognized, and he rejoiced himself at it. The pencil 
 would not quite work as it should do, that he could well ob- 
 serve; but on the next day a second Metal Pig was drawni 
 by the side of the first, and this looked a hundred times bet- 
 ter; and the third was already so good that everyone could 
 tell what it was meant for. 
 
 But the glove making prospered little, and the orders 
 given in the town were executed but slowly; for the Metal 
 Pig had taught him that all pictures may be drawn on paper; 
 and Florence is a picture book for anyone who chooses to 
 turn over its pages. On the Piazza del Trinita stands a 
 slender pillar, and upon it the Goddess of Justice, blind- 
 folded and with her scales in her hand. Soon she was placed 
 upon the paper, and it was the little glove maker's boy who 
 placed her there. The collection of pictures increased, but 
 as yet it only contained representations of lifeless objects, 
 when one day Bellissima came gamboling before him. 
 
 "Stand still!" said he. "then you shall be made beautiful 
 and put into my collection." 
 
 But Bellissima w'ould not stand still, so she had to be 
 bound fast; her head and tail were tied, and she barked and 
 jumped, and the string had to be pulled tight; and then the 
 signora came in. 
 
 "You wicked boy! — The poor creature!" was all she 
 could utter. 
 
 And she put the boy aside, thrust him away with her foot, 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 289 
 
 forbade him to enter her house again, and called him a most 
 ungrateful good-for-nothing and a wicked boy; and then, 
 weeping, she kissed her little half-strangled Bellissima. 
 
 At this very moment the painter came downstairs, and 
 here is the turning-point of the story. 
 
 In the year 1834 there was an exhibition in the Academy 
 of Arts at Florence. Two pictures, placed side by side, col- 
 lected a number of spectators. The smaller of the two rep- 
 resented a merry little boy who sat drawing, with a little 
 white Spitz dog, curiously shorn, for his model ; but the ani- 
 mal would not stand still, and was therefore bound by a 
 string fastened to its head and its tail. There was a truth 
 and life in this picture that interested everyone. The painter 
 was said to be a young Florentine, who had been found in 
 the streets in his childhood, had been brought up by an old 
 glove maker, and had taught himself to draw. It was fur- 
 ther said that a painter, now become famous, had discov- 
 ered this talent just as the boy was to be sent away for 
 tying up the favorite little dog of Madame, and using it as 
 a model. 
 
 The glove maker's boy had become a great painter; the 
 picture proved this, and still more the larger picture that 
 stood beside it. Here was represented onl}^ one figure, a 
 handsome boy, clad in rags, asleep in the street, and leaning 
 against the Metal Pig in the Porta Rosa street. All the 
 spectators knew the spot. The child's arms rested upon the 
 head of the Pig; the little fellow was fast asleep, and the 
 lamp before the picture of the Madonna threw a strong 
 effective light on the pale, delicate face of the child — it was 
 a beautiful picture! A great gilt frame surrounded it, and 
 on one corner of the frame a laurel wreath had been hung; 
 but a black band wound unseen among the green leaves, 
 and a streamer of crape hung down from it. For within 
 the last few days the young artist had — died! 
 
 19 
 
290 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 THE SNOW QUEEN. 
 
 IN SEVEN STORIES. 
 
 THE FIRST STORY. 
 WHICH TREATS OF THE MIRROR AND FRAGMENTS. 
 
 Look you, now we're going to begin. When we are at the 
 end of the story we shall know more than we do now, for he 
 was a bad goblin. He was one of the very worst, for he 
 was a demon. One day he was in very good spirits, for he 
 had made a mirror which had this peculiarity, that every- 
 thing good and beautiful that was reflected in it shrank to- 
 gether into almost nothing, but that whatever was worthless 
 and looked ugly became prominent and looked worse than 
 ever. The most lovely landscapes seen in this mirror looked 
 like boiled spinach, and the best people became hideous, or 
 stood on their heads and had no bodies; their faces were so 
 distorted as to be unrecognizable, and a single freckle was 
 shown spread out over nose and mouth. That was very 
 amusing, the demon said. When a good, pious thought 
 passed through any person's mind, these were again shown 
 in the mirror, so that the demon chuckled at his artistic in- 
 vention. Those who visited the goblin school — for he kept 
 a goblin school — declared everywhere that a wonder had 
 been wrought. For now, they asserted, one could see, for 
 the first time, how the world and the people in it really 
 looked. Now they wanted to i\y up to heaven, to sneer and 
 scoff at the angels themselves. The higher they flew with 
 the mirror, the more it grinned; they could scarcely hold it 
 fast. They flew higher and higher, and then the mirror 
 trembled so terribly amid its grinning that it fell down out of 
 their hands to the earth, where it was shattered into a hun- 
 dred million and more fragments. And now this mirror 
 occasioned much more unhappiness than before; for some 
 of the fragments were scarcely so large as a barleycorn, and 
 these flew about in the world, and whenever thev flew into 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 291 
 
 anyone's eye they stuck there, and those people saw every- 
 thing wrongly, or had only eyes for the bad side of a thing, 
 for every little fragment of the mirror had retained the 
 power which the whole glass possessed. A few persons 
 even got a fragment of the mirror into their hearts, and that 
 was terrible indeed, for such a heart became a block of ice. 
 A few fragments of the mirror were so large that they were 
 used as window panes, but it was a bad thing to look at one's 
 friends through these panes; other pieces were made into 
 spectacles, and then it went badly when people put on these 
 spectacles to see rightly, and to be just; and then the demon 
 laughed till his paunch shook, for it tickled him so. But 
 without, some little fragments of glass still floated about in 
 the air— and now we shall hear 
 
 THE SECOND STORY. 
 A LITTLE BOY AND A LITTLE GIRL. 
 
 In the great town, where there are many houses, and so 
 many people that there is not room enough for everyone to 
 have a little garden, and where consequently most persons 
 are compelled to be content with some flowers in flower 
 pots, were two poor children who possessed a garden some- 
 what larger than a flower pot. They were not brother and 
 sister, but they loved each other quite as much as if they had 
 been. Their parents lived just opposite each other in two 
 garrets, there where the roof of one neighbor's house joined 
 that of another; and where the water-pipe ran between the 
 two houses was a little window; one had only to step across 
 the pipe to get from one window to the other. 
 
 The parents of each child had a great box, in which grew 
 kitchen herbs that they used, and a little rose bush; there 
 was one in each box, and they grew famously. Now, it oc- 
 curred to the parents to place the boxes across the pipe, so 
 that they reached from one window to another, and looked 
 quite like two embankments of flowers. Pea plants hung 
 down over the boxes, and the rose bushes shot forth long 
 twigs, which clustered round the windows and bent down 
 toward each other; it was aimost like a triumphal arch of 
 flowers and leaves. A§ the boj^es were very highj and the 
 
292 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 children knew that they might not creep upon them, they 
 often obtained permission to step out upon the roof behind 
 the boxes, and to sit upon their Httle stools under the roses, 
 and there they could play capitally. 
 
 In the winter time there was an end of this amusement. 
 The windows were sometimes quite frozen all over. But 
 then they warmed copper shillings on the stove, and held 
 the warm coins against the frozen pane; and this made a 
 capital peep-hole, so round! so round! and behind it gleamed 
 a pretty mild eye at each window; and these eyes belonged 
 to the little boy and the little girl. His name was Kay and 
 the little girl's was Gerda. 
 
 In the summer they could get to one another at one 
 bound; but in the winter they had to go down and up the 
 long staircase, while the snow was pelting without. 
 
 "Those are the white bees swarming," said the old grand- 
 mother. 
 
 "Have they a Queen bee?" asked the little boy. For he 
 knew that there is one among the real bees. 
 
 "Yes, they have one," replied grandmamma. "She al- 
 ways flies where they swarm thickest. She is the largest of 
 them all, and never rem.ains quiet upon the earth; she flies 
 up again into the black cloud. Many a midnight she is fly- 
 ing through the streets of the town, and looks in at the win- 
 dows, and then they freeze in such a strange way, and look 
 like fiowers." 
 
 "Yes, I've seen that!" cried both the children; and now 
 they knew that it was true. 
 
 "Can the Snow Queen come in here?" asked the little 
 girl. 
 
 "Only let her come," cried the boy; "I'll set her upon the 
 warm stove, and then she'll melt." 
 
 But grandmother smoothed his hair, and told some other 
 tales. In the evening, when little Kay was at home and half 
 undressed, he clambered upon the chair by the window, and 
 looked through the little hole. A few flakes of snow were 
 falling outside, and one of them, the largest of them all, re- 
 mained lying on the edge of one of the flower boxes. The 
 snowflakes grew larger and larger, and at last became a 
 maiden clothed in the finest white gauze, put together of 
 millions of starry flakes. She was beautiful and delicate, 
 but of ice — of shining glittering ice. Yet she was alive; 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 293 
 
 her eyes flashed hke two cleas stars, but there was no peace 
 or rest in them. She nodded toward the window, and beck- 
 oned with her hand. The httle boy was frightened, and 
 sprang down h'om the chair; then it seemed as if a great bird 
 flew by outside, in front of the window. 
 
 Next day there was a clear frost, and then the spring 
 came; the sun shone, the green sprouted forth, the swal- 
 lows built nests, the windows were opened, and the little 
 children again sat in their garden high up in the roof, over 
 all the floors. 
 
 How splendidly the roses bloomed this summer! The 
 little girl had learned a psalm, in which mention was made of 
 roses, and, in speaking of roses, she thought of her own; 
 and she sang it to the little boy, and he sang, too : 
 
 "The roses will fade and pass away. 
 But we the Christ-child shall see one day." 
 
 And the little ones held each other by the hand, kissed the 
 roses, looked at God's bright sunshine, and spoke to it, as if 
 the Christ-child were there. What splendid summer days 
 those were! How beautiful it was without, among the 
 fresh rose bushes, which seemed as if they would never 
 leave off blooming! 
 
 Kay and Gerda sat and looked at the picture-book of 
 beasts and birds. Then it was, while the clock was just 
 striking twelve on the church tower, that Kay said: 
 
 '"Oh! something struck my heart and pricked me in the 
 eye." The little girl fell upon his neck; he blinked his eyes. 
 No, there was nothing at all to be seen. 
 
 "I think it is gone," said he; but it was not gone. It was 
 just one of those glass fragments which sprang from the mir- 
 ror — the magic mirror that we remember well, the ugly 
 glass that made everything great and good which was mir- 
 rored in it to seem small and mean, but in which the mean 
 and the wicked things were brought out in relief, and every 
 fault was noticeable at once. Poor little Kay had also re- 
 ceived a splinter just in his heart, and that will now soon be- 
 come like a lump of ice. It did not hurt him now, but the 
 splinter was still there. 
 
 "Why do you cry?" he asked. "You look ugly like that. 
 There's nothing the matter with me. Oh, fie!" he suddenly 
 
294 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 exclaimed, "that rose is worm-eaten, and this one is quite 
 crooked. After all, they're ugly roses. They're like the 
 box in which they stand. 
 
 And then he kicked the box with his foot, and tore both 
 the roses off. 
 
 "Kay, what are you about?" cried the little girl. 
 
 And when he noticed her fright he tore off another rose, 
 and then sprang in at his own window, away from pretty 
 little Gerda. 
 
 When she afterward came with her picture-book, he said 
 it was only fit for babies in arms ; and when his grandmother 
 told stories he always came in with a but; and when he could 
 manage it, he would get behind her, put on a pair of spec- 
 tacles, and talk just as she did; he could do that very clev- 
 erly, and the people laughed at him. Soon he could mimic 
 the speech and gait of everybody in the street. Every- 
 thing that was peculiar or ugly about him, Kay would imi- 
 tate; and people said: "That boy must certainly have a re- 
 markable genius." But it was the glass that struck deep in 
 his heart; so it happened that he even teased little Gerda, 
 who loved him with all her heart. 
 
 His games now became quite dififerent from what they 
 were before; they became quite sensible. One winter's day 
 when it snowed he came out with a great burning-glass, 
 held up the blue tail of his coat, and let the snowflakes fall 
 upon it. 
 
 "Now look at the glass, Gerda," said he. 
 
 And every flake of snow was magnified, and looked like a 
 splendid iiower, or a star with ten points; it was beautiful to 
 behold. 
 
 "See how clever that is," said Kay. "That's much more 
 interesting than real flowers; and there's not a single fault 
 in it — they're quite regular until they begin to melt." 
 
 Soon after Kay came in thick gloves, and with his sledge 
 upon his back. He called up to Gerda, "I've got leave to go 
 into the great square, where the other boys play," and he 
 was gone. 
 
 In the great square the boldest among the boys often tied 
 their sledges to the country people's carts, and thus rode 
 with them a good way. They went capitally. When they 
 were in the midst of their playing there came a great sledge. 
 It was painted quite white, and in it sat somebody wrapped 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 295 
 
 in a rough white fur, and with a white, rough cap on his 
 head. The sledge drove twice round the square, and Kay 
 bound his httle sledge to it, and so he drove on with it. It 
 went faster and faster, straight into the next street. The 
 man who drove turned round and nodded in a familiar way 
 to Kay; it was as if they knew one another; each time when 
 Kay wanted to cast loose his little sledge, the stranger nod- 
 ded again, and then Kay remained where he was, and thus 
 they drove out at the town gate. Then the snow began to 
 fall so rapidly that the boy could not see a hand's breadth 
 before him, but still he drove on. Now he hastily dropped 
 the cord, so as to get loose from the great sledge, but that 
 was no use, for his sledge was fast bound to the other, and 
 they went on like the wind. Then he called out quite loud- 
 ly, but nobody heard him; and the snow beat down, and the 
 sledge flew onward; every now and then it gave a jump, and 
 they seemed to be flying over hedges and ditches. The boy 
 was quite frightened. He wanted to say his prayer, but 
 could remember nothing but the multiplication table. 
 
 The snowflakes became larger and larger; at last they 
 looked like white fowls. All at once they sprang aside and 
 the great sledge stopped, and the person who had driven it 
 rose up. The fur and the cap were made altogether of ice. 
 It was a lady, tall and slender, and brilliantly white; it was 
 the Snow Queen. 
 
 "We have driven well!'' said she. "But why do you 
 tremble with cold? Creep into my fur." 
 
 And she seated him beside her in her own sledge, and 
 wrapped the fur round him, and he felt as if he sank into a 
 snowdrift. 
 
 "Are you still cold?" asked she, and then she kissed him 
 on the forehead. 
 
 Oh, that was colder than ice ; it went quite through to his 
 heart, half of which was already a lump of ice; he felt as if 
 he were going to die; but only for a moment; for then he 
 seemed quite well, and he did not notice the cold all about 
 him. 
 
 "My sledge! don't forget my sledge." 
 
 That was the first thing he thought of; and it was bound 
 fast to one of the white chickens, and this chicken flew be- 
 hind him with the sledge upon its back. The Snow Queen 
 
296 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 kissed Kay again, and then he had forgotten httle Gerda, 
 his grandmother, and all at home. 
 
 "Now you shall have no more kisses," said she, "for if you 
 did I should kiss you to death." 
 
 Kay looked at her. She was so beautiful, he could not 
 imagine a more sensible or lovely face; she did not appear to 
 him to be made of ice now as before, when she sat at the 
 window and beckoned to him. In his eyes she was perfect; 
 he did not feel at all afraid. He told her that he could do 
 mental arithmetic as far as fractions ; that he knew the num- 
 ber of square miles and the number of inhabitants in the 
 country. And she always smiled, and then it seemed to him 
 that what he knew was not enough, and he looked up into 
 the wide sky, and she flew with him high up upon the black 
 cloud, and the storm blew and whistled ; it seemed as though 
 the wind sang old songs. They flew over woods and lakes, 
 over sea and land; below them roared the cold wind, the 
 wolves howled, the snow crackled; over them flew the black, 
 screaming crows; but above all the moon shone bright and 
 clear, and Kay looked at the long, long winter night; by day 
 he slept at the feet of the Queen. 
 
 THE THIRD STORY. 
 
 THE FLOWER GARDEN OF THE WOMAN WHO COULD 
 CONJURE. 
 
 But how did it fare with little Gerda when Kay did not 
 return? What could have become of him? No one knew, 
 no one could give information. The boys only told that 
 thev had seen him bind his sledge to another very large one, 
 which had driven along the street and out at the town gate. 
 Nobody knew what had become of him; many tears were 
 shed, and little Gerda especially wept long and bitterly; 
 then she said he was dead — he had been drowned in the 
 river, which flowed close by their school. Oh, those were 
 very dark, long wintry days! But now spring came, with 
 warmer sunshine. 
 
 "Kay is dead and gone," said little Gerda. 
 
 "I don't believe it," said the Sunshine. 
 
 "He is dead and gone," said she to the Sparrows. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 297 
 
 "We don't believe it," they replied; and at last little Gerda 
 did not believe it herself. 
 
 "I will put on my new red shoes," she said one morning, 
 "those that Kay has never seen; and then I will go down to 
 the river, and ask for him." 
 
 It w-as still very early; she kissed the old grandmother, 
 who was still asleep, put on her red shoes, and went quite 
 alone out of the town gate toward the river. 
 
 "Is it true that you have taken my little playmate from 
 me? I will give you my red shoes if you will give him back 
 to me!" 
 
 And it seemed to her as if the waves nodded quite strange- 
 ly; and then she took her red shoes, that she liked best of 
 anything she possessed, and threw them both into the river; 
 but they fell close to the shore, and the little wavelets carried 
 them back to her, to the land. It seemed as if the river 
 would not take from her the dearest things she possessed 
 because he had not her little Kay ; but she thought she had 
 not thrown the shoes far enough out; so she crept into a 
 boat that lay among the reeds, she went to the other end of 
 the boat, and threw the shoes from thence into the water; 
 but the boat was not bound fast, and at the movement she 
 made it glided away from the shore. She noticed it, and 
 hurried to get back, but before she reached the other end the 
 boat was a yard from the bank, and it drifted away faster 
 than before. 
 
 Then little Gerda was very much frightened, and began to 
 cry; but no one heard her except the Sparrows, and they 
 could not carry her to land ; but they flew along by the shore, 
 and sang, as if to console her, "Here we are! here we are!" 
 The boat drove on with the stream, and little Gerda sat quite 
 still, with only her stockings on her feet; her little red shoes 
 floated along behind her, but they could not come up to the 
 boat, for that made more way. 
 
 It was very pretty on both shores. There were beautiful 
 flowers, old trees, and slopes with sheep and cows; but not 
 one person was to be seen. 
 
 "Perhaps the river will carry me to little Kay,'' thought 
 Gerda. 
 
 And then she became more cheerful, and rose up ; and for 
 many hours she watched the charming green banks; then 
 she came to a great cherry orchard, in which stood a little 
 
298 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 house with remarkable blue and red windows; it had a 
 thatched roof, and without stood two wooden soldiers, who 
 presented arms to those who sailed past. 
 
 Gerda called to them, for she thought they were alive, but 
 of course they did not answer. She came quite close to 
 them. The river carried the boat toward the shore. 
 
 Gerda called still louder, and then there came out of the 
 house an old woman leaning on a crutch ; she had on a great 
 velvet hat, painted over with the finest flowers. 
 
 "You poor little child !" said the old woman, "how did you 
 manage to come on the great rolling river, and to float thus 
 far out into the world?" 
 
 And then the old woman went quite into the water, seized 
 the boat with her crutch stick, drew it to land, and lifted 
 little Gerda out. And Gerda was glad to be on dry land 
 again, though she felt a little afraid of the strange old wo- 
 man. 
 
 "Come and tell me who you are, and how you came here," 
 said the old lady. And Gerda told her everything; and the 
 old woman shook her head, and said, "Hem! hem!" And 
 when Gerda had told everything, and asked if she had not 
 seen little Kay, the woman said that he had not yet come by, 
 but that he probably would soon come. Gerda was not to 
 be sorrowful, but to look at the flowers and taste the cher- 
 ries, for they were better than any picture-book, for each 
 one of them could tell a story. Then she took Gerda by the 
 hand and led her into the little house, and the old woman 
 locked the door. 
 
 The windows were very high, and the panes were red, 
 blue, and yellow; the daylight shone in a remarkable way, 
 with different colors. On the table stood the finest cherries, 
 and Gerda ate as many of them as she liked, for she had 
 leave to do so. While she was eating them, the old lady 
 combed her hair with a golden comb, and the hair hung 
 in ringlets of pretty yellow round the friendly little face, 
 which looked as blooming as a rose. 
 
 "I have long wished for such a dear little girl as you," 
 said the old lady. "Now you shall see how well we shall 
 live with one another." 
 
 And as the ancient dame combed her hair, Gerda forgot 
 her adopted brother Kay more and more; for this old wo- 
 man could conjure, but she was not a wicked witch. She 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 299 
 
 only practiced a little magic for her own amusement, and 
 wanted to keep little Gerda. Therefore she went into the 
 garden, stretched out her crutch toward all the rose bushes, 
 and, beautiful as they were, they all sank into the earth, and 
 one could not tell where they had stood. The old woman 
 was afraid that, if the little girl saw roses, she would think 
 of her own, and remember little Kay, and run away. 
 
 Now Gerda was led out into the flower garden. What 
 fragrance was there, and what loveliness! Every conceiv- 
 able flower was there in full bloom; there were some for 
 every season; no picture book could be gayer and pret- 
 tier. Gerda jumped high for joy, and played till the sun 
 went down behind the high cherry trees; then she was put 
 into a lovely bed, with red silk pillows stuffed with blue 
 violets, and she slept there, and dreamed as glorious as a 
 Queen on her wedding day. 
 
 One day she played again with the flowers in the warm 
 sunshine; and thus many days went by. Gerda knew 
 every flower; but, as many as there were of them, it still 
 seemed to her as if one were wanting, but which one she 
 did not know. One day she sat looking at the old lady's hat 
 with the painted flowers, and the prettiest of them all was 
 a rose. The old lady had forgotten to efface it from her hat 
 when she caused the others to disappear. But so it always 
 is when one does not keep one's wits about one. 
 
 "What, are there no roses here?" cried Gerda. 
 
 And she went among the beds, and searched and 
 searched, but there was not one to be found. Then she sat 
 down and wept; her tears fell just upon a spot where a rose- 
 bud lay buried, and when the warm tears moistened the 
 earth, the tree at once sprouted up as blooming as when it 
 had sunk; and Gerda embraced it, and kissed the Roses, 
 and thought of the beautiful roses at home, and also of 
 little Kay. 
 
 "Oh, how I have been detained!" said the little girl. 'T 
 wanted to seek for little Kay! Do you not know where he 
 is?" she asked the Roses. "Do you think he is dead?" 
 
 "He is not dead,'' the Roses answered. "We have been in 
 the ground. All the dead people are there, but Kay is not 
 there." 
 
 "Thank you," said little Gerda, and she went to the other 
 
300 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 flowers, looked into their cups, and asked, "Do you know 
 where Httle Kay is?" 
 
 But every flower stood in the sun thinking only of her 
 own story or fancy tale. Gerda heard many, many of 
 them; but not one knew anything of Kay, 
 
 And what did the Tiger-lily say? 
 
 "Do you hear the drum *Rub-dub'? There are only two 
 notes, always 'rub-dub!' Hear the mourning song of the 
 women; hear the call of the priests. The Hindoo widow 
 stands in her long red mantel on the funeral pile ; the flames 
 rise up around her and her dead husband; but the Hindoo 
 woman is thinking of the living one here in the circle, of 
 him whose eyes burn hotter than flames, whose fiery glances 
 have burned in her soul more ardently than the flames them- 
 selves, which are soon to burn her body to ashes. Can the 
 flame of heart die in the flame of the funeral pile?" 
 
 'T don't understand that at all !" said little Gerda. 
 
 ''That's my story," said the lily. 
 
 What says the Convolvulus? 
 
 "Over the narrow road looms an old knightly castle; 
 thickly the ivy grows over the crumbling red walls, leaf 
 by leaf up to the balcony, and there stands a beautiful girl; 
 she bends over the balustrade and glances up the road. No 
 rose on its branch is fresher than she; no apple blossoms 
 wafted onward by the wind floats more lightly along. How 
 her costly silks rustle! 'Comes he not yet?' " 
 
 'Ts it Kay whom you mean?" asked little Gerda. 
 
 "I'm only speaking of a story— my dream," replied the 
 Convolvulus. 
 
 What said the little Snowdrop? 
 
 "Between the trees a long board hangs by ropes; that is a 
 swing. Two pretty little girls, with clothes white as snow 
 and long green silk ribbons on their hats, are sitting upon 
 it, swinging; their brother, who is greater than they, stands 
 in the swing, and has slung his arm rovmd the rope to hold 
 himself, for in one hand he has a little saucer, and in the 
 other a clay pipe; he is blowing bubbles. The swing flies, 
 and the bubbles rise with beautiful, changing colors; the 
 last still hangs from the pipe bowl, swaying in the wind. 
 The swing flies on; the little black dog, light as the bubbles, 
 stands up on his hind legs, and wants to be taken into the 
 swing; it flies on, and the dog falls, barks, and grows angry, 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 301 
 
 for he is teased, and the bubble bursts. A swinging board 
 and a bursting bubble — that is my song." 
 
 "It may be very pretty, what you're telling, but you speak 
 it so mournfully, and you don't mention little Kay at all." 
 
 What do the Hyacinths say? 
 
 "There were three beautiful sisters, transparent and deli- 
 cate. The dress of one was red, that of the second blue, 
 and that of the third quite white ; hand in hand they danced 
 by the calm lake in the bright moonlight. They were not 
 elves; they were human beings. It was so sweet and fra- 
 grant there! The girls disappeared in the forest, and the 
 sweet fragrance became stronger; three cofhns, with three 
 beautiful maidens lying in them, glided from the wood- 
 thicket across the lake; the glow-worms flew gleaming 
 about them like little hovering lights. Are the dancing 
 girls sleeping, or are they dead? The flower scent says they 
 are dead, and the evening bell tolls their knell." 
 
 "You make me quite sorrowful," said little Gerda. "You 
 scent so strongly, I cannot help thinking of the dead maid- 
 ens. Ah! is little Kay really dead? The Roses have been 
 down in the earth, and they say no." 
 
 "Kling! klang!" tolled the Hyacinth Bells. "We are 
 not tolling for little Kay — -we don't know him ; we only sing 
 our song, the only one we know." 
 
 And Gerda went to the Buttercup, gleaming forth from 
 the green leaves. 
 
 "You are a little bright sun," said Gerda. "Tell me, if 
 you know, where I may find my companion.'' 
 
 And the Buttercup shone so gayly, and looked back at 
 Gerda. What song might the Buttercup sing? It was not 
 about Kay. 
 
 "In a little courtyard the clear sun shone warm on the 
 first day of spring. The sunbeams glided down the white 
 wall of the neighboring house; close by grew the first yel- 
 low flower, glancing like gold in the bright sun's ray. The 
 old grandmother sat out of doors in her chair; her grand- 
 daughter, a poor, handsome maidservant, was coming home 
 for a short visit; she kissed her grandmother. There was 
 gold, heart's gold, in that blessed kiss, gold in the mouth, 
 gold in the south, gold in the morning hour. See, that's my 
 little story," said the Buttercup. 
 
 "My poor old grandmother!" sighed Gerda. "Yes, she 
 
302 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 is surely longing for me and grieving for me, just as she 
 did for little Kay. But I shall soon go home and take Kay 
 with me. There is no use of my asking the flowers, they 
 only know their own song, and give me no information." 
 And then she tied her little frock round her, that she might 
 run the faster; but the Jonquil struck against her leg as 
 she sprang over it, and she stopped to look at the tall yellow 
 flower, and asked, "Do you, perhaps, know anything of lit- 
 tle Kay?" 
 
 And she bent quite down to the flower, and what did it 
 say? 
 
 "I can see myself! I can see myself!" said the Jonquil. 
 "Oh! oh! how I smell! Up in the little room in the gable 
 stands a little dancing girl; she stands sometimes on one 
 foot, sometimes on both; she seems to tread on all the 
 world. She's nothing but an ocular delusion; she pours 
 water out of a tea pot on a bit of stuff — it is her bodice. 
 'Cleanliness is a fine thing,' she says; her white frock hangs 
 on a hook; it has been washed in the tea pot, too, and dried 
 on the roof; she puts it on and ties her safifron handkerchief 
 round her neck, and the dress looks all the whiter. Point 
 your toes! look how she seems to stand on a stalk. I can 
 see myself! I can see myself!" 
 
 "I don't care at all about that," said Gerda. "You need 
 not tell me that." 
 
 And then she ran to the end of the garden. The door 
 was locked, but she pressed against the rusty lock, and it 
 broke off, the door sprang open, and little Gerda ran with 
 naked feet out into the wide world. She looked back three 
 times, but no one was there to pursue her; at last she could 
 run no longer, and seated herself on a great stone, and 
 when she looked round the summer was over — it was late 
 in autumn; one could not notice that in the beautiful garden, 
 where there was always sunshine, and the flowers of every 
 season always bloomed. 
 
 "Alas! how I have loitered!" said little Gerda. "Autumn 
 has come. I may not rest again." 
 
 And she rose up to go on. Oh! how sore and tired her 
 little feet were. All around it looked cold and bleak; the 
 long Vi^illow leaves were quite yellow, and the dew fell down 
 like water; one leaf after another dropped; only the sole- 
 thorn still bore fruit, but the §loes were sour, and set the 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 303 
 
 teeth on edge. Oh! how gray and gloomy it looked, the 
 wide world! 
 
 THE FOURTH STORY. 
 THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS. 
 
 Gerda was compelled to rest again; then there came hop- 
 ping across the snow, just opposite the spot where she was 
 sitting, a great Crow. This Crow stopped a long time to 
 look at her, nodding its head — now it said, "Krah! krah! 
 Good-day! good-day!" It could not pronounce better, but 
 it felt friendly toward the little girl, and asked where she was 
 going all alone in the wide world. The word "alone'' 
 Gerda understood very well, and felt how much it ex- 
 pressed; and she told the Crow the story of her whole life 
 and fortunes, and asked if it had not seen Kay. 
 
 And the Crow nodded very gravely, and said: 
 
 "That may be! that may be!" 
 
 "What? do you think so?" cried the little girl, and nearly 
 pressed the Crow to death, she kissed it so. 
 
 "Gently, gently!" said the Crow. "I think I know. I 
 believe it may be little Kay; but he has certainly forgotten 
 you, with the Princess." 
 
 "Does he live with a Princess?" asked Gerda. 
 
 "Yes; listen," said the Crow. "But it's so difficult for 
 me to speak your language. If you know the crows' lan- 
 guage, I can tell it much better." 
 
 "No, I never learned it," said Gerda; "but my grand- 
 mother understood it, and could speak the language, too. 
 I only wish I had learned it." 
 
 "That doesn't matter," said the Crow. "But it will go 
 badly." 
 
 And then the Crow told what it knew. 
 
 "In the country in which we now are lives a Princess who 
 is quite wonderfully clever, but then she has read all the 
 newspapers in the world, and has forgotten them again, she 
 is so clever. Lately she was sitting on the throne — and 
 that's not so pleasant as is generally supposed — and she be- 
 gan to sing a song, and it was just this: 'Why should I 
 not marry yet?' You see, there was something in that," 
 said the Crow. "And so she wanted to marry, but she 
 
304 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 wished for a husband who could answer when he was 
 spoken to, not one who only stood and looked handsome, 
 for that was wearisome. And so she had all her maids of 
 honor summoned, and when they heard her intention they 
 were very glad. 'I like that,' said they; 'I thought the very 
 same thing the other day.' You may be sure that every 
 word I am telling you is true," added the Crow. "I have a 
 tame sweetheart who goes about freely in the castle, and she 
 told me everything." 
 
 Of course the sweetheart was a crow, for one crow always 
 finds out another, and birds of a feather flock together. 
 
 "Newspapers were published directly, with a border of 
 hearts and the Princess' initials. One could read in them 
 that every young man who was good-looking might come 
 to the castle and speak with the Princess, and him who 
 spoke so that one could hear he was at home there, and who 
 spoke best, the Princess would choose for her husband. 
 Yes, yes," said the Crow, ''you may believe me. It's as true 
 as I sit here. Young men came flockine: in; there was a 
 great crowding and much running to and fro, but no one 
 succeeded the first or second day. They could all speak well 
 when they were out in the streets, but when they entered 
 at the palace gates, and saw the guards standing in their 
 silver lace, and went up the staircase, and saw the lackeys 
 in their golden liveries, and the great lighted halls, they 
 became confused. And when they stood before the throne 
 itself, on which the Princess sat, they could do nothing but 
 repeat the last word she had spoken, and she did not care 
 to hear her own words again. It was just as if the people 
 in there had taken some narcotic and fallen asleep, till they 
 got into the street again, for not till then were they able to 
 speak. There stood a whole row of them, from the town 
 gate to the palace gate. I went out myself to see it," said 
 the Crow. "They were hungry and thirsty, but in the palace 
 they did not receive so much as a glass of lukewarm water. 
 A few of the vv'isest had brought bread and butter with them, 
 but they would not share with their neighbors, for they 
 thought, 'Let him look hungry, and the Princess won't have 
 him.' " 
 
 "But Kay, little Kay?" asked Gerda. "When did he 
 come? Was he among the crowd?" 
 
 "Wait! wait! We're just coming to him. It was on the 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 205 
 
 third day that there came a Uttle personage, without horse 
 or carriage, walking quite merrily up to the castle ; his eyes 
 sparkled like yours; he had fine long hair, but his clothes 
 were shabby." 
 
 "That was Kay!" cried Gerda, rejoicing. "Oh, then 1 
 have found him !" And she clapped her hands. 
 
 "He had a little knapsack on his back," observed the 
 Crow. 
 
 "No, that must certainly have been his sledge," said 
 •Gerda, "for he went away with a sledge." 
 
 "That may well be,'' said the Crow, "for I did not look to 
 it very closely. But this much I know from, my tame sweet- 
 heart, that when he passed under the palace gate and saw 
 the Life Guards in silver, and mounted the staircase and 
 saw the lackeys in gold, he was not in the least embarrassed. 
 He nodded and said to them, Tt must be tedious work 
 standing on the stairs — I'd rather go in.' The halls shone 
 full of light; privy councilors and Excellencies walked 
 about with bare feet, and carried golden vessels; anyone 
 might have become solemn; and his boots creaked most 
 noisily, but he was not embarrassed," 
 
 "That is certainly Kay!" cried Gerda. "He had new 
 boots on; I've heard them creak in grandmothers room." 
 
 "Yes, certainly they creaked," resumed the Crow. "And 
 he went boldly in to the Princess herself, who sat on a pearl 
 that was as big as a spinning-wheel, and all the maids of 
 honor with their attendants, and all the cavaliers with their 
 followers, and the followers of their followers, who them- 
 selves kept a page apiece, were standing round; and the 
 nearer they stood to the door, the prouder they looked. 
 The followers' followers' pages, who always went in slip- 
 pers, could hardly be looked at, so proudly did they stand 
 in the doorway!" 
 
 "That must be terrible!" faltered little Gerda. "And yet 
 Kay won the Princess?" 
 
 "If I had not been a crow, I would have married her my- 
 self, notwithstanding that I am engaged. They say he 
 spoke as well as I can when I speak the crows' language; I 
 heard that from my tame sweetheart. He was merry and 
 agreeable ; he had not come to marry, only to hear the wis- 
 dom of the Princess; and he approved of her, and she of 
 him." 
 
 "Yes, certainly that was Kay !" said Gerda. "He was so 
 20 
 
306 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 clever; he could do mental arithmetic up to fractions. Oh! 
 won't you lead me to the castle, too?" 
 
 "That's easily said," replied the Crow. "But how are we 
 to manage it? I'll talk it over with my tame sweetheart; 
 she can probably advise us; for this I must tell you — a little 
 girl like yourself will never get leave to go completely in." 
 
 "Yes, I shall get leave," said Gerda. "When Kay hears 
 that I'm there he'll come out directly, and bring me in." 
 
 "Wait for me yonder at the grating," said Crow; and 
 it wagged its head and flew away. 
 
 It was already late in the evening when the Crow came 
 back. 
 
 "Rax! rax!" it said. "I'm to greet you kindly from my 
 sweetheart, and here's a little loaf for you. She took it from 
 the kitchen. There's plenty of bread there, and you must 
 be hungr}^ You can't possibly get into the palace, for you 
 are barefooted, and the guards in silver and the lackeys in 
 gold would not allow it. But don't cry; you shall go up. 
 My sweetheart knows a little back staircase that leads up 
 to the bedroom, and she knows where she can get the key." 
 
 And they went into the garden into the great avenue, 
 where one leaf was falling down after another; and when 
 the lights were extinguished in the palace one after the 
 other, the Crow led Gerda to a back door, which stood ajar. 
 
 Oh, how Gerda's heart beat with fear and longing! It 
 was just as if she had been going to do something wicked; 
 and yet she only wanted to know if it was little Kay. Yes, 
 it must be he. She thought so deeply of his clear eyes and 
 his long hair; she could fancy she saw how he smiled as 
 he had smiled at home when they sat among the roses. He 
 would certainly be glad to see her; to hear what a long dis- 
 tance she had come for his sake; to know how sorry the}' 
 had all been at home when he did not come back. Oh, what 
 a fear and what a joy that was! 
 
 Now they were on the staircase. A little lamp was burn- 
 ing upon a cupboard, and in the middle of the floor stood 
 the tame Crow turning her head on every side and looking 
 at Gerda, who courtesied as her grandmother had taught 
 her to do. 
 
 "My betrothed has spoken to me very favorably of you, 
 my little lady," said the tame Crow. "Your history, as it 
 may be called, is very moving. Will you take the lamp? 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES, 307 
 
 then I will precede you. We will go the straight way, and 
 then we shall meet nobody." 
 
 "I feel as if someone were coming after us," said Gerda, 
 as something rushed by her; it seemed like a shadow on 
 the wall; horses with flying manes and thin legs, hunters, 
 and ladies and gentlemen on horseback. 
 
 "These are only dreams," said the Crow; "they are com- 
 ing to carry the high masters' thoughts out hunting. That's 
 all the better, for you may look at them the more closely, 
 in bed. But I hope, when you are taken into favor and get 
 promotion, you will show a grateful heart." 
 
 "Of that we may be sure!" observed the Crow from the 
 wood. 
 
 Now they came into the first hall; it was hung with rose- 
 colored satin, and artificial flowers were worked on the 
 walls; and here the dream already came flitting by them, 
 but they moved so quickly that Gerda could not see the 
 high-born lords and ladies. Each hall was more splendid 
 than the last; yes, one could almost become bewildered! 
 Now they were in the bedchamber. Here the ceiling was 
 like a great palm tree with leaves of glass, of costly glass, 
 and in the middle of the floor two beds hung on a thick 
 stalk of gold, and each of them looked like a lily. One of 
 them was white, and in that lay the Princess ; the other was 
 red, and in that Gerda was to seek little Kay. She bent one 
 of the red leaves aside, and then she saw a little brown neck. 
 Oh, that was Kay! She called out his name quite loud, 
 and held the lamp toward him. The dreams rushed into 
 the room again on horseback — he awoke, turned his head, 
 and — it was not little Kay! 
 
 The Prince was only like him in the neck, but he was 
 young and good looking, and the Princess looked up, blink- 
 ing, from the white lily, and asked who was there. Then 
 little Gerda wept, and told her whole history, and all that 
 the Crows had done for her. 
 
 "You poor child!" said the Prince and Princess. 
 
 And they praised the Crows, and said that they were not 
 angry with them at all, but the Crows were not to do it 
 again. However, they should be rewarded. 
 
 "Will you fly out free?" asked the Princess, "or will you 
 have fixed positions as Court Crows, with the right to every- 
 thing that is left in the kitchen?" 
 
308 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 And the two Crows bowed, and begged for fixed posi- 
 tions, for they thought of their old age, and said, "It is so 
 good to have some provisions for one's old days," as they 
 called them. 
 
 And the Prince got up out of his bed, and let Gerda sleep 
 in it, and he could not do m.ore than that. She folded her 
 little hands, and thought, "How good men and animals 
 are !" and then she shut her eyes and went quietly to sleep. 
 All the dreams came flying in again, looking like angels, 
 and they drew a little sledge, on which Kay sat nodding; 
 but all this was only a dream, and therefore it was gone 
 again as soon as she awoke. 
 
 The next day she was clothed from head to foot in velvet ; 
 and an offer was made to her that she should stay in the 
 castle and enjoy pleasant times, but she only begged for a 
 little carriage, with a horse to draw it, and a pair of little 
 boots; then she would drive out into the world and seek 
 for Kay. 
 
 And she received not only boots, but a muff likewise, and 
 was neatly dressed; and when she was ready to depart, a 
 coach, made of pure gold, stopped before the door. Upon it 
 shone like a star the coat of arms of the Prince and Princess; 
 coachmen, footmen, and outriders — for there were outrid- 
 ers, too — sat on horseback, with gold crowns on their heads. 
 The Prince and Princess themselves helped her into the 
 carriage, and wished her all good fortune. The forest Crow, 
 who was now married, accompanied her the first three 
 miles; he sat by Gerda's side, for he could not bear riding 
 backward; the other Crow stood in the doorway, flapping 
 her wings ; she did not go with them, for she suffered from 
 headache, that had come on since she had obtained a fixed 
 position and was allowed to eat too much. The coach was 
 lined with sugar biscuits, and in the seat there were ginger- 
 bread, nuts, and fruit. 
 
 "Farewell, farewell!" cried the Prince and Princess; and 
 little Gerda wept, and the Crow wept. So they went on for 
 the first three miles, and then the Crow said good-bye, and 
 that was the heaviest parting of all. The Crow flew up on a 
 tree, and beat his black wings as long as he could see the 
 coach, which glittered like the bright sunshine. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 309 
 
 THE FIFTH STORY. 
 THE LITTLE ROBBER GIRL. 
 
 They drove on through the thick forest, but the coach 
 gleamed Hke a torch, that dazzled the robbers' eyes, and 
 they could not bear it. 
 
 "That is gold! that is gold!" cried they, and rushed for- 
 ward, and seized the horses, killed the postilions, the coach- 
 man, and the footmen, and then pulled little Gerda out of 
 the carriage. 
 
 "She is fat — she is pretty — she is fed with nut kernels!" 
 said the old robber woman, who had a very long matted 
 beard, and shaggy eyebrows that hung down over her 
 eves. "She's as good as a little pet lamb ; how I shall relish 
 her!" 
 
 And she drew out her shining knife, that gleamed in a 
 horrible way. 
 
 "Oh!" screamed the old woman at the same moment; for 
 her own daughter, who hung at her back, bit her ear in a 
 very naughty and spiteful manner "You ugly brat!" 
 screamed the old woman; and she had not time to kill 
 Gerda. 
 
 "She shall play with me !" said the little robber girl. "She 
 shall give me her muff and her pretty dress, and sleep with 
 me in my bed!'' 
 
 And then the girl gave another bite, so that the woman 
 jumped high up, and turned right round, and all the robbers 
 laughed, and said: 
 
 "Look how she dances with her calf." 
 
 "I want to go into the carriage," said the little robber 
 girl. 
 
 And she would have her own way, for she was spoiled and 
 very obstinate; and she and Gerda sat in the carriage, and 
 drove over stock and stone deep into the forest. The little 
 robber girl was as big as Gerda, but stronger and more 
 broad shouldered, and she had a brown skin; her eyes were 
 quite black, and they looked almost mournful. She clasped 
 little Gerda round the waist, and said: 
 
 "They shall not kill you as long as I am not angry with 
 you. I suppose you are a Princess?" 
 
310 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "No," replied Gerda. And she told all that had happened 
 to her, and how fond she was of little Kay. 
 
 The robber girl looked at her seriously, nodded slightly, 
 and said: 
 
 "They shall not kill you, even if I do get angry with you, 
 for then I will do it myself." 
 
 And then she dried Gerda's eyes, and put her two hands 
 into the beautiful mufT that was so soft and w-arm. 
 
 Now the coach stopped, and they were in the courtyard of 
 a robber castle. It had burst from the top to the ground; 
 ravens and crows flew out of the great holes, and big bull- 
 dogs — each of which looked as if he could devour a man — 
 jumped high up, but they did not bark, for that was forbid- 
 den. 
 
 In the great old, smoky hall, a bright fire burned upon 
 the stone floor; the smoke passed along under the ceiling, 
 and had to seek an exit for itself. A great cauldron of soup 
 was boiling, and hares and rabbits were roasting on the 
 spit. 
 
 "You shall sleep to-night with me and all my little ani- 
 mals," said the robber girl. 
 
 They got something to eat and drink, and then went to a 
 corner, where straw and carpets were spread out. Above 
 these sat on laths and perches more than a hundred pigeons, 
 and all seemed asleep, but they turned a little when the two 
 little girls came. 
 
 "All these belong to me,'' said the little robber girl; and 
 she quickly seized one of the nearest, held it by the feet, and 
 shook it so that it flapped its wings. "Kiss it!" she cried, 
 and beat it in Gerda's face. "There sit the wood rascals," 
 she continued, pointing to a number of laths that had been 
 nailed in front of a hole in the wall. "Those are wood ras- 
 cals, those two; they fly away directly if one does not keep 
 them well locked up. And here's my old sweetheart 'Ba.' " 
 And she pulled out b}^ the horn a Reindeer, that was tied up, 
 and had a polished copper ring round its neck. "We're 
 obliged to keep him tight, too, or he'd run aw^ay from us. 
 Every evening I tickle his neck with a sharp knife, and he's 
 very frightened at that." 
 
 And the little girl drew a long knife from a cleft in the 
 wall, and let it glide over the Reindeer's neck; the poor 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 311 
 
 creature kicked out its legs, and the little robber girl 
 laughed, and drew Gerda into bed with her. 
 
 "Do you keep the knife while you're asleep?" asked 
 Gerda, and looked at it in rather a frightened way. 
 
 "I always sleep with my knife," replied the robber girl. 
 "One does not know what may happen. But now tell me 
 again what you told me just now about little Kay, and why 
 you came out into the wide world," 
 
 And Gerda told it again from the beginning; and the 
 Wood Pigeons cooed above them in their cage, and the 
 other pigeons slept. The little robber girl put her arm 
 round Gerda's neck, held her knife in the other hand, and 
 slept so that one could hear her; but Gerda could not close 
 her eyes at all — she did not know whether she was to live or 
 die. 
 
 The robbers sat round the fire, sang and drank, and the 
 old robber woman tumbled about. It was quite terrible for 
 a little girl to behold. 
 
 Then the Wood Pigeons said: "Coo! coo! we have seen 
 little Kay. A white owl was carrying his sledge; he sat in 
 the Snow Queen's carriage, which drove close by the forest 
 as we lay in our nests. She blew upon us young pigeons 
 and all died except us two. Coo! coo!" 
 
 "What are you saying there?" asked Gerda. "Whither 
 was the Snow Queen traveling? Do you know anything 
 about it?" 
 
 "She was probably journeying to Lapland, for there they 
 have always ice and snow. Ask the reindeer that is tied to 
 the cord." 
 
 "There is ice and snow yonder, and it is glorious and fine," 
 said the Reindeer. "There one may run about free in great 
 glittering plains. There the Snow Queen has her summer 
 tent; but her strong castle is up toward the North Pole, on 
 the island that's called Spitzbergen." 
 
 "O Kay, little Kay!" cried Gerda. 
 
 "You must lie still," exclaimed the robber girl, "or I shall 
 thrust my knife into your body." 
 
 In the morning Gerda told her all that the Wood Pigeons 
 had said, and the robber girl looked quite serious, and nod- 
 ded her head and said, "That's all the same, that's all the 
 same !'' 
 
312 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "Do you know where Lapland is?" she asked the Rein- 
 deer. 
 
 "Who should know better than I?" the creature replied, 
 and its eyes sparkled in its head. "I was born and bred 
 there; I ran about there in the snow fields." 
 
 "Listen!" said the robber girl to Gerda. "You see all 
 our men have gone away. Only mother is here still, and 
 she'll stay; but toward noon she drinks out of the big bot- 
 tle, and then she sleeps for a little while; then I'll do some- 
 thing for you." 
 
 Then she sprang out of bed, and clasped her mother 
 round the neck and pulled her beard, crying: 
 
 "Good-morning, my own old nanny-goat." And her 
 mother filliped her nose till it was red and blue; and it was 
 all done for pure love. 
 
 When the mother had drunk out of her bottle and had 
 gone to sleep upon it, the robber girl went to the Reindeer, 
 and said: 
 
 "I should like very much to tickle you a few times more 
 with the knife, for you are very funny then ; but it's all the 
 same. I'll loosen your cord and help you out, so that you 
 may run to Lapland; but you must use your legs well, and 
 carry this little girl to the palace of the Snow Queen, where 
 her playfellow is. You've heard what she told me, for she 
 spoke loud enough, and you were listening." 
 
 The Reindeer sprang up high for joy. The robber girl 
 lifted little Gerda on its back, and had the forethought to 
 tie her fast, and even to give her own little cushion as a sad- 
 dle. 
 
 "There are your fur boots for you," she said, "for it's 
 growing cold; but I shall keep the muff, for that's so very 
 pretty. Still, you shall not be cold, for all that; here's my 
 mother's big muffles — they'll just reach up to your elbows. 
 Now you look just like my ugly mother." 
 
 And Gerda wept for joy. 
 
 "I can't bear to see you whimper," said the little robber 
 girl. "No, you just ought to look very glad. And here are 
 two loaves and a ham for you ; now you won't be hungry." 
 
 These were tied on the Reindeer's back. The little rob- 
 ber girl opened the door, coaxed in all the big dogs, and 
 then cut the rope with her sharp knife, and said to the Rein- 
 deer: 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 313 
 
 "Now run, but take good care of the little girl." 
 
 And Gerda stretched out her hands with the big muffles 
 toward the little robber girl, and said, "Farewell." 
 
 And the Reindeer ran over stock and stone, away 
 through the great forest, over marshes and steppes, as quick 
 as it could go. The wolves howled and the ravens croaked. 
 "Hiss! hiss!" it went in the air. It seemed as if the sky 
 were flashing fire. 
 
 "Those are my old Northern Lights," said the Reindeer. 
 "Look how they glow!" And then it ran on faster than 
 ever, day and night. 
 
 THE SIXTH STORY. 
 THE LAPLAND WOMAN AND THE FINLAND WOMAN. 
 
 At a little hut they stopped. It was very humble; the 
 roof sloped down almost to the ground, and the door was 
 so low that the family had to creep on their stomachs when 
 they wanted to go in or out. No one was in the house but 
 an old Lapland woman, cooking fish by the light of a train- 
 oil lamp; and the Reindeer told Gerda's whole history, but 
 it related its own first, for this seemed to the Reindeer the 
 more important of the two. Gerda was so exhausted by 
 the cold that she could not speak. 
 
 "Oh, you poor things," said the Lapland woman, "you've 
 a long way to run yet ! You must go more than a hundred 
 miles into Finmark, for the Snow Queen is there, staying 
 in the country, and burning Bengal Lights every evening. 
 I'll write a few words on a dried cod, for I have no paper, 
 and I'll give you that as a letter to the Finland woman; she 
 can give you better information than I." 
 
 And when Gerda had been warmed and refreshed with 
 food and drink, the Lapland woman wrote a few words on 
 a dried codfish, and telling Gerda to take care of these, tied 
 her again on the Reindeer, and the Reindeer sprang away. 
 Flash! flash! it went high in the air; the whole night long 
 the most beautiful blue Northern Lights were burning. 
 
 And then they got to Finm^ark, and knocked at the chim- 
 ney of the Finland woman, for she had not even a hut. 
 
 There was such a heat in the chimney that the woman 
 
314 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 herself went about almost naked. She at once loosened 
 little Gerda's dress and took off the child's muffles and 
 boots; otherwise it would have been too hot for her to bear. 
 Then she laid a piece of ice on the Reindeer's head, and 
 read what was written on the codfish; she read it three 
 times, and when she knew it by heart, she popped the fish 
 into the soup-cauldron, for it was eatable, and she never 
 wasted anything. 
 
 Now the Reindeer first told his own story, and then little 
 Gerda's; and the Finland woman blinked with her clever 
 eyes, but said nothing. 
 
 "You are very clever," said the Reindeer. "I know you 
 can tie all the winds of the world together with a bit of 
 twine; if the seaman unties one knot, he has a good wind; 
 if he loosens the second, it blows hard; but if he unties the 
 third and fourth, there comes such a tempest that the for- 
 ests are thrown down. Won't you give the little girl a 
 draught, so that she may get twelve men's power, and over- 
 come the Snow Queen?'' 
 
 "Twelve men's power!" repeated the Finland woman. 
 "Great use that would be!" 
 
 And she went to a bed and brought out a great rolled-up 
 fur, and unrolled it; wonderful characters were written 
 upon it, and the Finland woman read until the perspiration 
 ran down over her forehead. 
 
 But the Reindeer again begged so hard for little Gerda, 
 and Gerda looked at the Finland woman with such be- 
 seeching eyes, full of tears, that she began to blink again 
 with her own, and drew the Reindeer into a corner, and 
 whispered to him, while she laid fresh ice upon his head. 
 
 "Little Kay is certainly at the Snow Queen's, and finds 
 everything there to his taste and liking, and thinks it is the 
 best place in the world ; but that is because he has a splinter 
 of glass in his eye, and a little fragment in his heart: but 
 these must be got out, or he will never be a human being 
 again, and the Snow Queen will keep her power over him." 
 
 "But cannot you give something to little Gerda, so as to 
 give her power over all this?" 
 
 "I can give her no greater power than she possesses al- 
 ready; don't you see how great that is? Don't you see how 
 men and animals are obliged to serve her, and how she gets 
 on so well in the world, with her naked feet? She cannot 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 315 
 
 receive her power from us; it consists in this, that she is a 
 dear, innocent child. If she herself cannot penetrate to the 
 iSnow Queen and get the glass out of little Kay, we can be of 
 no use ! Two miles from here the Snow Queen's garden be- 
 gins; you can carry the little girl thither; set her down by 
 the great bush that stands with its red berries in the snow. 
 Don't stand gossiping, but make haste, and get back here!" 
 
 And then the Finland woman lifted little Gerda on the 
 Reindeer, which ran as fast as it could. 
 
 "Oh, I haven't my boots! I haven't my muffles!" cried 
 Gerda. 
 
 She soon noticed that in the cutting cold; but the Rein- 
 deer dare not stop; it ran till it came to the bush with the 
 red berries; there it set Gerda down, and kissed her on the 
 mouth, and great big tears ran down the creature's cheeks; 
 and then it ran back, as fast as it could. There stood poor 
 Gerda without shoes, without gloves, in the midst of the 
 terrible cold Finmark. 
 
 She ran forward as fast as possible; then came a whole 
 regiment of snow flakes; but they did not fall down from 
 the sky, for that was quite bright, and shone with the 
 Northern Light; the snow flakes ran along the ground, 
 and the nearer they came the larger they grew. Gerda still 
 remembered how large and beautiful the snow flakes had 
 appeared when she had looked at them through the burn- 
 ing-glass. But here they were certainly far longer and 
 much more terrible — they were alive. They were advanced 
 posts of the Snow Queen, and had the strangest shapes. A 
 few looked like ugly great porcupines; others like knots 
 formed of snakes, which stretched forth their heads; and 
 others like little fat bears, whose hair stood up on end; all 
 were brilliantly white, all were living snow flakes. 
 
 Then little Gerda said her prayer; and the cold was so 
 great that she could see her own breath, which went forth 
 out of her mouth like smoke. The breath became thicker 
 and thicker, and formicd itself into little angels, who grew 
 and grew whenever they touched the earth; and all had 
 helmets on their heads and shields and spears in their hands; 
 their number increased more and more, and when Gerda 
 had finished her prayer a whole legion stood round about 
 her, and struck with their spears at the terrible snow flakes, 
 so that these were shattered into a thousand pieces; and 
 
316 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 little Gerda could go forward afresh, with good courage. 
 The angels stroked her hands and feet, and then she felt 
 less how cold it was, and hastened on to see the Snow 
 Queen's palace. 
 
 But now we must see what Kay is doing. He certainly 
 was not thinking of little Gerda, and least of all that she was 
 standing in front of the palace. 
 
 THE SEVENTH STORY. - 
 
 OF THE tSNOW QUEEN'S CASTLE, AND WHAT HAPPENED 
 THERE AT LAST. 
 
 The walls of the palace were formed of the drifting snow, 
 and the windows and doors of the cutting winds. There 
 were more than a hundred halls, all blovv^n together by the 
 snow; the greatest of these extended for several miles; the 
 strong Northern Light illumined them all, and how great 
 and empty, how icily cold and shining they all were ! Never 
 was merriment there, not even a little bears ball, at which 
 the storm could have played the music, while the bears 
 walked about on their hind legs and showed off their pretty 
 manners; never any little sport of mouth-slapping or bars- 
 touch; never any little coffee gossip among the young lady 
 white foxes. Empty, vast, and cold were the halls of the 
 Snow Queen. The Northern Lights flamed so brightly 
 that one could count them where they stood highest and 
 lowest. In the midst of this immense empty snow hall was 
 a frozen lake, which had burst into a thousand pieces; but 
 each piece was like the rest, so that it was a perfect work of 
 art; and in the middle of the lake sat the Snow Queen, 
 when she was at home, and then she said that she sat in the 
 Mirror of Reason, and that this was the only one, and the 
 best in the world. 
 
 Little Kay was quite blue with cold — indeed, almost 
 black! but he did not notice it, for she had kissed the cold 
 shudderings away from him, and his heart was like a lump 
 of ice. He dragged a few sharp, flat pieces of ice to and fro, 
 joining them together in all kinds of ways, for he v/anted 
 to achieve something with them. It was just like when we 
 have little tablets of wood, and lay them together to form 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 317 
 
 figures — what we call the Chinese game. Kay also went 
 and laid figures, and, indeed, very artistic ones. That was 
 the icy game of Reason, In his eyes these figures were very 
 remarkable and of the highest importance; that was be- 
 cause of the fragment of glass sticking in his eye. He laid 
 out the figures so that they formed a word — but he could 
 never manage to lay down the word as he wished to have it 
 — the word "Eternity." And the Snow Queen had said: 
 
 "If you can find out this figure, you shall be your own 
 master, and I will give you the whole world and a new pair 
 of skates." 
 
 But he could not. 
 
 "Now I'll hasten away to the warm lands," said the Snow 
 Queen. "I will go and look into the black spots;" these 
 were the volcanoes, Etna and Vesuvius, as they are called. 
 "I shall make them a little white! That's necessary; that 
 will do the grapes and lemons good." 
 
 And the Snow Queen flew away, and Kay sat quite alone 
 in the great icy hall that was miles in extent, and looked 
 at his pieces of ice, and thought so deeply that cracks were 
 heard inside him; one would have thought that he was 
 frozen. 
 
 Then it happened that little Gerda stepped through the 
 great gate into the wide hall. Here reigned cutting winds, 
 but she prayed a prayer, and the winds lay down as if they 
 would have gone to sleep; and she stepped into the great 
 empty cold halls, and beheld Kay; she knew him, and flew 
 to him, and embraced him, and held him fast, and called 
 out: ■ - ■ H":; 
 
 "Kay, dear little Kay! at last I have found you!" 
 
 But he sat quite still, stiff and cold. Then little Gerda 
 wept hot tears, that fell upon his breast; they penetrated 
 into his heart, they thawed the lump of ice, and consumed 
 the little piece of glass in it. He looked at her, and she 
 sang: 
 
 "Roses bloom and roses decay, 
 But we the Christ-child shall see one day." 
 
 Then Kay burst into tears; he wept so that the splinter of 
 glass came out of his eye. Now he recognized her, and 
 cried rejoicingly: 
 
318 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "Gerda, dear Gerda! where have you been all this time? 
 And where have I been?" And he looked all around him. 
 "How cold it is here! How large and void!" 
 
 And he clung to Gerda, and she laughed and wept for 
 joy. It was so glorious that even the pieces of ice round 
 about danced for joy; and when they were tired and lay 
 down, they formed themselves just into the letters of which 
 the Snow Queen had said that if he found them out he 
 should be his own master, and she would give him the 
 whole world and a new pair of skates. 
 
 And Gerda kissed his cheeks, and they became blooming; 
 she kissed his eyes, and they shone like her own; she 
 kissed his hands and feet, and he then became well and 
 merry. The Snov/ Queen might now come home; his letter 
 of release stood written in shining characters of ice. 
 
 And they took one another by the hand, and wandered 
 forth from the great palace of ice. They spoke of the grand- 
 mother and of the roses on the roof; and where they went 
 the winds rested and the sun burst forth; and when they 
 came to the bush with the red berries, the Reindeer was 
 standing there waiting; it had brought another young Rein- 
 deer, which gave the children warm milk, and kissed them 
 on the mouth. Then they carried Kay and Gerda. first to 
 the Finnish woman, where they warmed themselves thor- 
 oughly in the hot room, and received instructions for their 
 journey home, and then to the Lapland woman, who had 
 made their new clothes and put their sledge in order. 
 
 The Reindeer and the young one sprang at their side, and 
 followed them as far as the boundary of the country. There 
 the first green sprouted forth, and there they took leave of 
 the two Reindeers and the Lapland woman. "Farewell!" 
 said all. And the first little birds began to twitter, the for- 
 est was decked with green buds, and out of it, on a beautiful 
 horse (which Gerda knew, for it w^as the same that had 
 drawn her golden coach), a young girl came riding, with a 
 shining red cap on her head and a pair of pistols in the 
 holsters. This was the little robber girl, who had grown 
 tired of staying at home, and wished to go first to the 
 north, and if that did not suit her, to some other region. 
 She knew Gerda at once, and Gerda knew her, too; and 
 it was a right merry meeting. 
 
 "You are a fine fellow to gad about!" she said to little 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 319 
 
 Kay, "I should like to know if you deserve that one should 
 run to the end of the world after you?" 
 
 But Gerda patted her cheeks, and asked after the Prince 
 and Princess. 
 
 "They've gone to foreign countries," said the robber girl. 
 
 "But the Crow?" said Gerda. 
 
 "The Crow is dead," answered the other. "The tame one 
 has become a widow, and goes about with an end of black 
 worsted thread round her leg. She complains most lament- 
 ably, but it's all talk. But now tell me how you have fared, 
 and how you caught him." 
 
 And Gerda and Kay told their story. 
 
 "Snipp-snapp-snurre-purre-basellurre!" said the robber 
 girl. 
 
 And she took them both by the hand, and promised that if 
 she ever came through their town, she would come up and 
 pay them a visit. And then she rode away into the wide 
 world. But Gerda and Kay went hand in hand, and as they 
 went it became beautiful spring, with green and with flow- 
 ers. The church bells sounded, and they recognized the 
 high steeples and the great town; it was the one in which 
 they lived, and they went to the grandmother's door, and 
 up the stairs, and into the room, where everything remained 
 in its usual place. The big clock was going "Tick! tack!" 
 and the hands were turning; but as they went through the 
 rooms they noticed that they had become grown-up people. 
 The roses out on the roof gutter were blooming in at the 
 open window, and there stood the children's chairs, and 
 Kay and Gerda sat each upon their own, and held each 
 other by the hand. They had forgotten the cold, empty 
 splendor at the Snow Queen's like a heavy dream. The 
 grandmother was sitting in God's bright sunshine, and 
 read aloud out of the Bible, "Except ye become as little 
 children, ye shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of 
 God." 
 
 And Kay and Gerda looked into each other's eyes, and 
 all at once they understood the old song: 
 
 "Roses bloom and roses decay, 
 But we the Christ-child shall see one day." 
 
520 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 There they both sat, grown up, and yet children — chil- 
 dren in heart — and it was summer; warm, dehghtful sum- 
 mer. 
 
 THE NIGHTINGALE. 
 
 In China, you must know, the Emperor is a Chinaman, 
 and all whom he has about him are Chinamen, too. It hap- 
 pened a good many years ago, but that's just why it's worth 
 while to hear the story, before it is forgotten. The Em- 
 peror's palace was the most splendid in the world; it was 
 made entirely of porcelain, very costly, but so delicate and 
 brittle that one had to take care how one touched it. In 
 the garden were to be seen the most wonderful flowers, and 
 to the costliest of them silver bells were tied, which 
 sounded, so that nobody should pass by without noticing 
 the flowers. Yes, everything in the Emperor's garden was 
 admirably arranged. And it extended so far that the gar- 
 dener himself did not know where the end was. If a man 
 went on and on, he came into a glorious forest with high 
 trees and deep lakes. The wood extended straight down to 
 the sea, which was blue and deep; great ships could sail"; 
 too, beneath the branches of the trees; and in the trees 
 lived a Nightingale, which sang so splendidly that even the 
 poor fisherman, who had many other things to do, stopped 
 still and listened, when he had gone out at night to throw 
 out his nets, and heard the Nightingale. 
 
 "How beautiful that is!'' he said; but he was obliged to 
 attend to his property, and thus forgot the bird. But when 
 the next night the bird sang again, and the fisherman heard 
 it, he exclaimed again, "How beautiful that is!" 
 
 From all the countries of the world travelers came to the 
 city of the Emperor, and admired it, and the palace and the 
 garden, but when they heard the Nightingale, they said, 
 "That is the best of all!" 
 
 And the travelers told of it when they came home; and 
 the learned men wrote many books about the town, the pal- 
 ace, and the garden. But they did not forget the Nightin- 
 gale; that was placed highest of all; and those who were 
 poets wrote most magnificent poems about the Nightingale 
 in the wood by the deep lake. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 321 
 
 The books went through all the world, and a few of them 
 once came to the Emperor, He sat in his golden chair, and 
 read, and read; every moment he nodded his head, for it 
 pleased him to peruse the masterly descriptions of the city, 
 the palace, and the garden. "But the Nightingale is the 
 best of all," it stood written there. 
 
 "What's that?" exclaimed the Emperor. "I don't know 
 the Nightingale at all! Is there such a bird in my empire, 
 and even in my garden? I've never heard of that. To 
 think that I should have to learn such a thing for the first 
 time from books!" 
 
 And hereupon he called his cavalier. This cavalier was 
 so grand that if anyone lower in rank than himself dared to 
 speak to him, or to ask him any question, he answered 
 nothing but "P!" — and that meant nothing. 
 
 "There is said to be a wonderful bird here called a Night- 
 ingale," said the Emperor. "They say it is the best thing in 
 all my great empire. Why have I never heard anything 
 about^t?" 
 
 "I have never heard him named," replied the cavalier. 
 "He has never been introduced at Court." 
 
 "I command that he shall appear this evening, and sing 
 before me," said the Emperor. "All the world knows what 
 I possess, and I do not know it myself!" 
 
 "I have never heard him mentioned," said the cavalier. 
 "I will seek for him. I will find him." 
 
 But where was he to be found? The cavalier ran up and 
 down all the staircases, through halls and passages, but no 
 one among all those whom he met had heard talk of the 
 Nightingale. And the cavalier ran back to the Emperor, 
 and said that it must be a fable invented by the writers of 
 books. 
 
 "Your Imperial Majesty cannot believe how much is 
 written that is fiction, besides something that they call the 
 black art." ; 
 
 "But the book in which I read this," said the Emperor, 
 "was sent to me by the high and mighty Emperor of Japan, 
 and therefore cannot be a falsehood. I will hear the Night- 
 ingale! It must be here this evening! It has my imperial 
 favor; and if it does not come, all the Court shall be tram- 
 pled upon after the Court has supped !" 
 
 "Tsing-pe!" said the cavalier; and again he ran up and 
 
 21 
 
322 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 down all the staircases, and through all the halls and corri- 
 dors; and half the Court ran with him, for the courtiers did 
 not like being trampled upon. 
 
 Then there was a great inquir)^ after the wonderful Night- 
 ingale, which all the world knew excepting the people at 
 Court. 
 
 At last they met with a poor little girl in the kitchen, who 
 said: 
 
 "The Nightingale? I know it well; yes, it can sing glori- 
 ously. Every evening I get leave to carry my poor sick 
 mother the scraps from the table. She lives down by the 
 strand; and when I get back and am tired, and rest in the 
 wood, then I hear the Nightingale sing. And then the 
 water comes into my eyes, and it is just as if my mother 
 kissed me." 
 
 "Little kitchen girl," said the cavalier, "I will get you a 
 place in the kitchen, with permission to see the Emperor 
 dine, if you will but lead us to the Nightingale, for it is an- 
 nouncecl for this evening." 
 
 So they all went out into the wood where the Nightingale 
 was accustomed to sing; half the Court went forth. When 
 they were in the midst of their journey a cow began to low. 
 
 "Oh!'' cried the Court pages, "now we have it! That 
 shows a wonderful power in so small a creature! I have 
 certainly heard it before." 
 
 "No, those are cows lowing," said the little kitchen girl. 
 "We are a long way from the place yet." 
 
 Now the frogs began to croak in the marsh. 
 
 "Glorious!" said the Chinese Court preacher. "Now I 
 hear it — it sounds just like little church bells." 
 
 "No, those are frogs," said the little kitchen maid. "But 
 now I think we shall soon hear it." 
 
 And then the Nightingale began to sing. 
 
 "That is it!" exclaimed the little girl. "Listen, listen! 
 and yonder it sits." 
 
 And she pointed to a little gray bird in the boughs. 
 
 "Is it possible?" cried the cavalier. "I should never have 
 thought it looked like that! How simple it looks! It must 
 certainly have lost its color at seeing such grand people 
 around." 
 
 "Little Nightingale!" called the little kitchen maid, quite 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 323 
 
 loudly, "our gracious Emperor wishes you to sing before 
 him." 
 
 "With the greatest pleasure!" replied the Nightingale, 
 and began to sing most delightfully. 
 
 "It sounds just like glass bells!" said the cavalier. "And 
 look at its little throat, how it's, working! It's wonderful 
 that we should never have heard it before. That bird will be 
 a great success at Court." 
 
 "Shall I sing once more before the Emperor?" inquired 
 the Nightingale, for it thought the Emperor was present. 
 
 "My excellent little Nightingale," said the cavalier, "I 
 have great pleasure in inviting you to a Court festival this 
 evening, when you shall charm his Imperial Majesty with 
 your beautiful singing." 
 
 "My song sounds best in the green wood," replied the 
 Nightingale ; still it came willingly when it heard what the 
 Emperor wished. 
 
 The palace was festively adorned. The walls and the 
 flooring, which were of porcelain, gleamed in the rays of 
 thousands of golden lamps. The most glorious flowers, 
 which could ring clearly, had been placed in the passages. 
 There was a running to and fro, and a thorough draught, 
 and all the bells rang so loudly that one could not hear one's 
 self speak. 
 
 In the midst of the great hall, where the Emperor sat, a 
 golden perch had been placed, on which the Nightingale 
 was to sit. The whole Court was there, and the little cook- 
 maid had got leave to stand behind the door, as she had 
 now received the title of a real Court cook. All were in full 
 dress, and all looked at the little gray bird, to which the 
 Emperor nodded. 
 
 And the Nightingale sang so gloriously that the tears 
 came into the Emperor's eyes, and the tears ran down over 
 his cheeks; then the Nightingale sang still more sweetly, 
 that went straight to the heart. The Emperor was so much 
 pleased that he said the Nightingale should have his golden 
 slipper to wear round its neck. But the Nightingale de- 
 clined this with thanks, saying it had already received a 
 sufficient reward. 
 
 "I have seen tears in the Emperor's eyes — that is the real 
 treasure to me. An Emperor's tears have a peculiar power, 
 
324 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 I am rewarded enough!" And then it sang again with a 
 sweet, glorious voice. 
 
 "That's the most amiable coquetry I ever saw!" said the 
 ladies who stood round about, and then they took water in 
 their mouths to gurgle when anyone spoke to them. They 
 thought they should be nightingales, too. And the lackeys 
 and chambermaids reported that they were satisfied also; 
 and that was saying a good deal, for they are the most 
 difficult to please. In short, the Nightingale achieved a 
 real success. 
 
 It was now to remain at Court, to have its own cage, with 
 liberty to go out twice every day and once at night. Twelve 
 servants were appointed when the Nightingale went out, 
 each of whom had a silken string fastened to the bird's legs, 
 which they held very tight. There was really no pleasure in 
 an excursion of that kind. 
 
 The whole city spoke of the wonderful bird, and whenever 
 two people met, one said nothing but "Nightin," and the 
 other said "gale;" and then the}^ both sighed, and under- 
 stood one another. Eleven pedlars' children were named 
 after the bird, but not one of them could sing a note. 
 
 One day the Emperor received a large parcel, on which 
 was written "The Nightingale." 
 
 "There we have a new book about this celebrated bird." 
 said the Emperor. 
 
 But it was not a book, but a little work of art, contained 
 in a box, an artificial nightingale, which was to sing like a 
 natural one, and was brilliantly ornamented with diamonds, 
 sapphires, and rubies. So soon as the artificial bird was 
 wound up, he could sing one of the pieces that he really 
 sang, and then his tail moved up and down, and shone with 
 silver and gold. Round his neck hung a little ribbon, and 
 on that was written, "The Em.peror of China's nightingale 
 is poor compared to that of the Emperor of Japan." 
 
 "That is capital!" said they all, and he who had brought 
 the artificial bird immediately received the title. Imperial 
 Head-Nightingale-Bringer. 
 
 "Now they must sing together; what a duet that will be!" 
 cried the courtiers. 
 
 And so they had to sing together; but it did not sound 
 very well, for the real Nightingale sang its own way, and the 
 artificial bird sang waltzes. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 325 
 
 "That's not his fault," said the playmaster; "he's quite 
 perfect, and very much in my style." 
 
 Now the artificial bird was to sing alone. He had just as 
 much success as the real one, and then it was much hand- 
 somer to look at — it shone like bracelets and breastpins. 
 
 Three and thirty times over did it sing the same piece, 
 and yet was not tired. The people would gladly have heard 
 it again, but the Emperor said that the living Nightingale 
 ought to sing something now. But where was it? No one 
 had noticed that it had flown away out of the open window, 
 back to the green wood. 
 
 "But what has become of that?" asked the Emperor. 
 
 And all the courtiers abused the Nightingale, and de- 
 clared that it was a very ungrateful creature. 
 
 "We have the best bird after all," said they. 
 
 And so the artificial bird had to sing again, and that was 
 the thirty-fourth time that they listened to the same piece. 
 For all that they did not know it quite by heart, for it was 
 so very difficult. And the playmaster praised the bird par- 
 ticularly; yes, he declared that it was better than a nightin- 
 gale, not only with regard to its plumage and the many 
 beautiful diamonds, but inside as well. 
 
 "For you see, ladies and gentlemen, and above all, your 
 Imperial Majesty, with a real nightingale one can never 
 calculate what is coming, but in this artificial bird, every- 
 thing is settled. One can explain it; one can open it and 
 make people understand where the waltzes come from, how 
 they go, and how one follows up another." 
 
 "Those are quite our own ideas," they all said. 
 
 And the speaker received permission to show the bird to 
 the people on the next Sunday. The people were to hear it 
 sing, too, the Emperor commanded; and they did hear it, 
 and were as much pleased as if they had all got tipsy upon 
 tea, for that's quite the Chinese fashion, and they all said, 
 "Oh!" and held up their forefingers and nodded. But the 
 poor fisherman, who had heard the real Nightingale, said: 
 
 "It sounds pretty enough, and the melodies resemble each 
 other, but there's something wanting, though I know not 
 what!" 
 
 The real Nightingale was banished from the country and 
 empire. The artificial bird had its place on a silken cushion 
 close to the Emperor's bed; all the presents it had received, 
 
326 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 gold and precious stones, were ranged about it; in title it had 
 advanced to be the High Imperial After-Dinner Singer, and 
 in rank to Number One on the left hand ; for the Emperor 
 considered that side the most important on which the heart 
 is placed, and even in an Emperor the heart is on the left 
 side; and the playmaster wrote a work of five and twenty- 
 volumes about the artificial bird; it was very learned and 
 very long, full of the most difficult Chinese words; but yet 
 all the people declared that they had read it and understood 
 it, for fear of being considered stupid, and having their 
 bodies trampled on. 
 
 So a whole year went by. The Emperor, the Court, and 
 all the other Chinese knew every little twitter in the arti- 
 ficial bird's song by heart. But just for that reason it 
 pleased them best — they could sing with it themselves, and 
 they did so. The street boys sang, "Tsi-tsi-tsi-glug-glug!" 
 and the Emperor himself sang it, too. Yes, that was cer- 
 tainly famous. 
 
 But one evening, when the artificial bird was singing its 
 •best, and the Emperor lay in bed listening to it, something 
 inside the bird said, "Whizz!" Something cracked. 
 "Whirr-r!" All the wheels ran round, and then the music 
 stopped. 
 
 The Emperor immediately sprang out of bed, and caused 
 his body physician to be called; but what could he do? 
 Then they sent for a watchmaker, and after a good deal of 
 talking and investigation, the bird was put into something 
 like order, but the watchmaker said that the bird must be 
 carefully treated, for the barrels were worn, and it would be 
 impossible to put new ones in in such a manner that the music 
 would go. There was a great lamentation; only once in the 
 year was it permitted to let the bird sing, and that was al- 
 most too much. But then the playmaster made a little 
 speech, full of heavy words, and said this was just as good as 
 before — and so of course it was as good as before. 
 
 Now five years had gone by, and a real grief came upon 
 the whole nation. The Chinese were really fond of their 
 Emperor, and now he was ill, and could not, it was said, 
 live much longer. Already a new Emperor had been chosen, 
 and the people stood out in the street and asked the cavalier 
 how the Emperor did. 
 
 "P!" said he, and shook his head. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 327 
 
 Cold and pale lay the Emperor in his great, gorgeous bed ; 
 
 the whole court thought him dead, and each one ran to pay 
 homage to the new ruler. The chamberlains ran out to talk 
 it over, and the ladies' maids had a great coffee party. All 
 about, in all the halls and passages, cloth had been laid down 
 so that no footstep could be heard, and therefore it was quiet 
 there, quite quiet. But the Emperor was not dead yet; stiff 
 and pale he lay on the gorgeous bed, with the long velvet 
 curtains and the heavy gold tassels ; high up, a window stood 
 open, and the moon shone in upon the Emperor and the 
 artificial bird. 
 
 The poor Emperor could scarcely breathe; it was just as 
 if something lay upon his chest; he opened his eyes, and then 
 he saw that it was Death who sat upon his chest, and had 
 put on his golden crown, and held in one hand the Emper- 
 or's sword, in the other his beautiful banner. And all 
 around, from among the folds of the splendid velvet curtains, 
 strange heads peered forth; a few very ugly, the rest quite 
 lovely and mild. These were all the Emperor's bad and 
 good deeds, that stood before him now that Death sat upon 
 his heart. 
 
 "Do you remember this?" whispered one to the other. 
 "Do you remember that?" and then they told him so much 
 that the perspiration ran from his forehead. 
 
 "I did not know that!" said the Emperor. "Music! mu- 
 sic! the great Chinese drum!" he cried, "so that I need not 
 hear all they say!" 
 
 And they continued speaking, and Death nodded like a 
 Chinaman to all they said. 
 
 "Music! music!" cried the Emperor. "You little precious 
 golden bird, sing, sing! I have given you gold and costly 
 presents; I have even hung my golden slipper around your 
 neck — sing now, sing!" 
 
 But the bird stood still; no one was there to wind him up, 
 and he could not sing without that; but Death continued to 
 stare at the Emperor with his great, hollow eyes, and it was 
 quiet, fearfully quiet. 
 
 Then there sounded from the window, suddenly, the most 
 lovely song. It was the little live Nightingale, that sat out- 
 side on a spray. It had heard of the Emperor's sad plight, 
 and had come to sing to him of comfort and hope. As it 
 sang the specters grew paler and paler; the blood ran quicker 
 
328 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 and more quickly through the Emperor's weak Hmbs; and 
 even Death hstened, and said: 
 
 "Go on, Httle Nightingale, go on!" 
 
 "But will you give me that splendid golden sword? Will 
 you give me that rich banner? Will you give me the Em- 
 peror's, crown?" 
 
 And Death gave up each of these treasures for a song. 
 And the Nightingale sang on and on; and it sang of the 
 quiet churchyard where the white roses grow, where the 
 elder blossoms smell sweet, and where the fresh grass is 
 moistened by the tears of survivors. Then Death felt a 
 longing to see his garden, and floated out at the window in 
 the form of a cold white mist. 
 
 "Thanks! thanks!" said the Emperor. "You heavenly lit- 
 tle bird; I know you well. I banished you from my country 
 and empire, and yet you have charmed away the evil faces 
 from my couch, and banished Death from my heart ! How 
 can I reward you?" 
 
 "You have rewarded me!" replied the Nightingale. "I 
 have drawn tears from your eyes, when I sang the first time 
 — I shall never forget that. Those are the jewels that re- 
 joice a singer's heart. But now sleep, and grow fresh and 
 strong again. I will sing you something." 
 
 And it sang, and the Emperor fell into a sweet slumber. 
 Ah! how mild and refreshing that sleep was! The sun 
 shone upon him through the windows, when he awoke re- 
 freshed and restored; not one of his servants had yet re- 
 turned, for they all thought he was dead; only the Nightin- 
 gale still sat beside him and sang. 
 
 "You must always stay with me," said the Emperor. 
 "You shall sing as you please; and Fll break the artificial 
 bird into a thousand pieces." 
 
 "Not so," replied the Nightingale. "It did well as long 
 as it could; keep it as you have done till now. I cannot 
 build my nest in the palace to dwell in it, but let me come 
 when I feel the wish; then I will sit in the evening on the 
 spray yonder by the window, and sing you something, so 
 that you may be glad and thoughtful at once. I will sing of 
 those who are happy and of those who suffer. I will sing of 
 good and of evil that remains hidden round about you. The 
 little singing bird flies far around, to the poor fisherman, to 
 the peasant's roof, to everyone who dwells far away from 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 329 
 
 you and from your Court. I love your heart more than 
 your crown, and yet the crown has an air of sanctity about 
 it. I will come and sing to you — but one thing you must 
 promise me." 
 
 "Everything!" said the Emperor; and he stood there in 
 his imperial robes, which he had put on himself, and pressed 
 the sword which was heavy with gold to his heart. 
 
 "One thing I beg of you; tell no one that you have a little 
 bird who tells you everything. Then it will go all the bet- 
 ter." 
 
 And the Nightingale flew away. 
 
 The servants came in to look at their dead Emperor, and 
 — yes, there he stood, and the Emperor said "Good-morn- 
 ing!" 
 
 THE NEIGHBORING FAMILIES. 
 
 One would really have thought that something important 
 was going on by the duck pond ; but nothing was going on. 
 All the ducks lying quietly on the water, or standing on their 
 heads in it — for they could do that — swam suddenly to the 
 shore. One could see the traces of their feet on the wet 
 earth, and their quacking sounded far and wide. The water, 
 lately clear and bright as a mirror, was quite in a commo- 
 tion. Before, every tree, every neighboring bush, the old 
 farmhouse with the holes in the roof and the swallow's nest, 
 and especially the great rose bush covered with flowers, had 
 been mirrored in it. This rose bush covered the w^all and 
 hung over the water, in which everything appeared as in a 
 picture, only that everything stood on its head; but when the 
 water was set in motion, everything swam away, and the 
 picture was gone. Two feathers, which the fluttering ducks 
 had lost, floated to and fro, and all at once they took a start, 
 as if the wind were coming; but the wind did not come, so 
 they had to be still, and the water became quiet and smooth 
 again. The roses mirrored themselves in it again; they 
 were beautiful, but they did not know it, for no one had told 
 them. The sun shone among the delicate leaves; every- 
 thing breathed in the sweet fragrance, and all felt as we 
 feel when we are filled with the thought of our greatest hap- 
 piness. 
 
330 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "How beautiful is life!" said each Rose, "Only one 
 thing I wish, that I were able to kiss the sun, because it is so 
 bright and so warm. The roses, too, in the water yonder, 
 our images, I should like to kiss, and the pretty birds in the 
 nests. There are some up yonder, too; they thrust out their 
 heads and pipe quite feebly; they have no feathers like their 
 father and mother. They are good neighbors, below and 
 above. How beautiful is life!" 
 
 The young ones above and below; those below are cer- 
 tainly only shadows in the water — mere Sparrows; their 
 parents were Sparrows, too; they had taken possession of 
 the empty swallow's nest of last year, and kept house in it as 
 if it had been their own. 
 
 "Are those ducks' children swimming yonder?" asked the 
 young Sparrows, when they noticed the ducks' feathers upon 
 the water. 
 
 "If you must ask questions, ask sensible ones," replied 
 their mother. "Don't you see that they are feathers? living 
 clothes, stufif like I wear and like you will wear; but ours is 
 finer. I wish, by the way, we had those up here in our own 
 nest, for they keep one warm. I wonder what the ducks 
 were so frightened at. Not at us, certainly, though I said 
 'piep' to you rather loudly. The thick-headed roses ought 
 to know it, but they know nothing; they only look at one an- 
 other and smell. I'm very tired of those neighbors." 
 
 "Just listen to those darling birds up there," said the 
 Roses. "They begin to want to sing, but are not able yet. 
 But it will be managed in time. What a pleasure that must 
 be! It's nice to have such merry neighbors." 
 
 Suddenly two horses came galloping up to water. A 
 peasant boy rode on one, and he had taken ofif all his clothes, 
 except his big, broad straw hat. The boy whistled like a 
 bird, and rode into the pond where it was deepest, and when 
 he came past the rose bush he plucked a rose, and put it 
 upon his hat. And now he thought he looked very fine, 
 and rode on. The other Roses looked after their sister, and 
 said to each other: "Whither may she be journeying?" but 
 they did not know. 
 
 "I should like to go out into the world," said one; "but it's 
 beautiful, too, here at home among the green leaves. All 
 day the sun shines warm and bright, and in the night-time 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES, 331 
 
 the sky is more beautiful still; we can see that through all 
 the little holes in it." 
 
 They meant the stars, but they knew no better. 
 
 "We make it lively about a house," said the Mother Spar- 
 row; "and 'the swallow's nest brings luck,' people say, so 
 they're glad to see us. But the neighbors! Such a rose 
 bush climbing up the wall causes damp. It will most likely 
 be taken away; and then, at least, corn will perhaps grow 
 here. The Roses are fit for nothing but to be looked at, or 
 at most one may be stuck on a hat. Every year, I know 
 from my mother, they fall off. The farmer's wife preserves 
 them, and puts salt among them; then they get a French 
 name that I neither can nor will pronounce, and are put 
 upon the fire to make a good smell. You see, that's their 
 life. They're only for the eye and the nose. Now you 
 know it." 
 
 When the evening came, and the gnats played in the 
 warm air and the red clouds, the Nightingale came and sang 
 to the Roses, saying that the beautiful was like sunshine to 
 the world, and that the beautiful lived forever. But the 
 Roses thought the Nightingale was singing of itself, and in- 
 deed one might easily have thought so; they never imagined 
 that the song was about them. But they rejoiced greatly in 
 it, and wondered whether all the little Sparrows might be- 
 come Nightingales. 
 
 'T understood the song of that bird very well," said the 
 young Sparrows, "only one word was not clear. What is 
 the beautiful?" 
 
 "That's nothing at all," replied the Mother Sparrow; 
 that's only an outside affair. Yonder, at the nobleman's 
 seat, where the pigeons have their own house, and have 
 corn and peas strewn before them every day, — Tve been 
 there myself and dined with them; for tell me what com- 
 pany you keep and I'll tell you who you are, — yonder at the 
 nobleman's seat there are two birds, with green necks and a 
 crest upon their head; they can spread out their tails like a 
 great shell, and then it plays with various colors, so that the 
 sight makes one's eyes ache. These birds are called pea- 
 cocks, and that's the beautiful. They should only be 
 plucked a little, then they would look no better than all the 
 rest of us. I should have plucked them myself if they had 
 not been so large," 
 
S32 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "I'll pluck them," piped the little Sparrow, who had no 
 feathers yet. 
 
 In the farmhouse dwelt two young married people; they 
 loved each other well, were industrious and active, and 
 everything in their home looked very pretty. On Sunday 
 morning the young wife came out, plucked a handful of the 
 most beautiful roses, and put them into a glass of water, 
 which she put upon the cupboard. 
 
 "Now I see that it is Sunday," said the husband, and he 
 kissed his little Vvife. 
 
 They sat down, read their hymn book, and held each 
 other by the hand; and the sun shone on the fresh roses and 
 the young couple. 
 
 "This sight is really too wearisome," said the Mother 
 Sparrow, who could look from the nest into the room; and 
 she flew away. 
 
 The same thing happened the next Sunday, for every Sun- 
 day fresh roses were placed in the glass; but the rose bush 
 bloomed as beautiful as ever. 
 
 The young Sparrows had feathers now, and wanted to flly 
 out too, but the mother would not allow it, and they were 
 obliged to stay at home. She flew alone; but, however it 
 may have happened, before she was aware of it, she was en- 
 tangled in a noose of horse-hair, which some boys had fas- 
 tened to the branches. The horse-hair wound itself fast 
 round her legs, as fast as if it would cut the leg through. 
 What pain ! what a fright she was in ! 
 
 The boys came running up, and seized the bird; and in- 
 deed, roughly enough. 
 
 "It's only a Sparrow," said they; but they did not let her 
 go, but took her home with them. And whenever she cried, 
 they tapped her on the beak. 
 
 In the farmhouse stood an old man, who understood mak- 
 ing soap for shaving and washing, in cakes as well as in 
 balls. He was a merry, wandering old man. When he saw 
 the Sparrow, which the boys had brought, and for which 
 they said they did not care, he said: 
 
 "Shall we make it very beautiful?" 
 
 The Mother Sparrow felt an icy shudder pass through 
 her. 
 
 Out of a box, in which were the most brilliant colors, the 
 old man took a quantity of shining gold leaf, and the boys 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 333 
 
 were sent for some white of eggs, with which the Sparrow 
 was completely smeared; the gold leaf was stuck upon that, 
 and there was the Mother Sparrow gilded all over. She did 
 not think of the adornment, but trembled all over. And the 
 soap man tore off a fragment from the red lining of his old 
 jacket, cut notches in it, so that it looked like a cock's comb, 
 and stuck it on the bird's head. 
 
 "Now you shall see the gold-jacket fly," said the old man; 
 and he released the Sparrow, which flew away in deadly fear, 
 with the sunlight shining upon her. 
 
 How it glittered! All the Sparrows, and even a crow, a 
 knowing old boy, were startled at the sight; but still they 
 flew after her, to know what kind of strange bird this 
 might be. 
 
 Driven by fear and horror, she flew homeward; she was 
 nearly sinking powerless to the earth; the flock of pursuing 
 birds increased, and some even tried to peck at her. 
 
 "Look at her! look at her!" they all cried. 
 
 "Look at her! look at her!" cried the young ones, when 
 the Mother Sparrow approached the nest. "That must be a 
 young peacock. He glitters with all colors. It quite hurts 
 one's eyes, as Mother told us. Piep! that's the beautiful." 
 
 And now they pecked at the bird with their little beaks, so 
 that she could not possibly get into the nest; she was so 
 much exhausted that she could not even say "Piep!" much 
 less "I am your mother!" 
 
 The other birds also fell upon the Sparrow, and plucked 
 off feather after feather, until she fell bleeding into the rose 
 bush. 
 
 "You poor creature!" said all the Roses; "be quiet, and 
 we will hide you. Lean your head against us.'' 
 
 The Sparrow spread out her wings once more, then drew 
 them tight to her body, and lay dead by the neighboring 
 family, the beautiful fresh Roses. 
 
 "Piep!" sounded from the nest. "Where can our mother 
 be? It's quite inexplicable. It cannot be a trick of hers, 
 and mean that we're to shift for ourselves; she has left us 
 the house as an inheritance, but to which of us shall it be- 
 long when we have families of our own?" 
 
 "Yes, it won't do for you to stay with me when I enlarge 
 my establishment with a wife and children;" observed the 
 smallest. 
 
334 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "I shall have more wives and children than you!" cried 
 the second. 
 
 "But I am the oldest!" said the third. 
 
 Now they all became excited. They struck out with their 
 wings, hacked with their beaks, and flump! one after an- 
 other was thrust out of the nest. There they lay with their 
 anger, holding their heads on one side, and blinking with 
 the eye that looked upward. That was their way to look 
 sulky. 
 
 They could fly a little; by practice they improved, and at 
 last they fixed upon a sign by which they should know each 
 other when they met later in the world. This sign was to be 
 the cry of "Piep!'' with a scratching of the left foot three 
 times against the ground. 
 
 The Sparrow that had remained behind in the nest made 
 itself as broad as it possibly could, for it was the proprietor. 
 But the proprietorship did not last long. In the night the 
 red fire burst through the window, the fl.ames seized upon 
 the roof, the dry straw blazed brightly up, and the whole 
 house was burned, and the young Sparrow too; but the two 
 others, who wanted to marry, managed to escape with their 
 lives. 
 
 When the sun rose again, and everything looked as much 
 refreshed as if nature had had a quiet sleep, there rem.ained 
 of the farmhouse nothing but a few charred beams, leaning 
 against the chimney that was now its own master. Thick 
 smoke still rose from among the fragments, but without 
 stood the rose bush quite unharmed, and every flower, every 
 twig immersed in the clear water. 
 
 "How beautiful those roses bloom before the ruined 
 house!" cried a passer-by. "I cannot imagine a more agree- 
 able picture. I must have that." 
 
 And the traveler took out of his portfolio a little book with 
 white leaves; he was a painter, and with his pencil he drew 
 the smoking house, the charred beams, and the overhanging 
 chimney, which bent more and more; quite in the fore- 
 ground appeared the blooming rose bush, which presented a 
 charming sight, and indeed for its sake the whole picture 
 had been made. 
 
 Later in the day, the two Sparrows that had been born 
 here came by. 
 
 ''Where is the house?" asked they. "Where is the nest? 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 335 
 
 Piep! All is burned, and our strong brother is burned too. 
 That's what he has got by keeping the nest to himself. The 
 Roses have escaped well enough — there they stand yet, with 
 their red cheeks. They certainly don't mourn at their 
 neighbor's misfortune. I won't speak to them, it's so ugly 
 here, that's my opinion." And they flew up and away. 
 
 On a beautiful sunny autumn day, when one could almost 
 have believed it was the middle of summer, there hopped 
 about in the clean, dry courtyard of the nobleman's seat, in 
 front of the great steps, a number of Pigeons, black, white, 
 and variegated, all shining in the sunlight. The old Mother 
 Pigeons said to their young ones: 
 
 "Stand in groups, stand in groups, for that looks much 
 better." 
 
 "What are those little gray creatures, that run about be- 
 hind us?" asked an old Pigeon, with red and green in her 
 eyes. "Little gray ones, little gray ones!" she cried. . 
 
 "They are Sparrows, good creatures. We have always 
 had the reputation of being kind, so we will allow them to 
 pick up the corn with us. They don't interrupt conversa- 
 tion, and they make such very pretty courtesies.'' 
 
 Yes they courtesied three times, each with the left leg, 
 and said "Piep." By that they recognized each other as the 
 Sparrows from the nest by the burned house. 
 
 "Here's very good eating," said the Sparrow. 
 
 The Pigeons strutted round one another, bulged out their 
 chests mightily, and had their own secret views and opinions 
 on things in general. 
 
 "Do you see that pouter Pigeon?'' said one speaking to 
 the others. "Do you see that one swallowing the peas? 
 She takes too many, and the best, moreover. Curoo! 
 curoo! How she lifts up her crest, the ugly, spiteful thing! 
 Curoo! curoo!" 
 
 And all their eyes sparkled with spite. 
 
 "Stand in groups! stand in groups! Little gray ones! 
 little gray ones! Curoo! curoo!" 
 
 So their beaks went on and on, and so they will go on 
 when a thousand years are gone. 
 
 The Sparrows feasted bravely. They listened attentively, 
 and even stood in the ranks of the Pigeons, but it did not 
 suit them well. They were satisfied, and so they quitted the 
 Pigeons, exchanged opinion concerning them, slipped un- 
 
336 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 der the garden railings, and when they found the door of 
 the garden open, one of them, who was over-fed, and conse- 
 quently valorous, hopped on the threshold. 
 
 "Piep!" said he, "I may venture that." 
 
 "Piep!" said the other, "so can I, and something more 
 too." 
 
 And he hopped right into the room. No one was pres- 
 ent; the third Sparrow saw that, and hopped still far- 
 ther into the room, and said, "Everything or nothing! By 
 the way, this is a funny man's nest; and what have they put 
 up there? What's that?" 
 
 Just in front of the Sparrows the roses were blooming; 
 they were mirrored in the water, and the charred beams 
 leaned against the toppling chimney. 
 
 "Why, what is that? How came this in the room of a 
 nobleman's seat?" 
 
 And then these Sparrows wanted to fly over the chimney 
 and roses, but flew against a flat wall. It was all a picture, 
 a great beautiful picture, that the painter had completed 
 from a sketch. 
 
 "Piep!" said the Sparrow,"it's nothing, it only looks like 
 something. Piep! that's the beautiful. Can you under- 
 stand it? I can't." 
 
 And they flew away, for some people came into the room. 
 
 Days and years went by. The Pigeons had often cooed, 
 not to say growled, the spiteful things; the Sparrows had 
 suffered cold in winter, and lived riotously in summer ; they 
 were all betrothed or married, or whatever you like to call it. 
 They had little ones, and of course each thought his own the 
 handsomest and the cleverest; one flew this way, another that, 
 and when they met they knew each other by their "Piep!" 
 and the three courtesies with the left leg. The eldest had 
 remained a maiden Sparrow, with no nest and no young 
 ones. Her great idea was to see a town, and therefore she 
 flew to Copenhagen. 
 
 There was to be seen a great house painted with many 
 colors, close by the castle and by the canal, in which latter 
 swam many ships laden with apples and pottery. The 
 windows were broader below than at the top, and when the 
 Sparrows looked through, every room appeared to them li'ke 
 a tulip with the most beautiful colors and shades. But 
 in the middle of the tulip were white people, made of mar- 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 337 
 
 ble; a few certainly were made of plaster, but in the eyes of 
 a sparrow that's all the same. Upon the roof stood a metal 
 carriage, with metal horses harnessed to it, and the God- 
 dess of Victory, also of bronze, driving. It was Thorwald- 
 sen's Museum. 
 
 "How it shines! how it shines!" said the little maiden 
 Sparrow. "I suppose that's "what they call the beautiful. 
 Piep! But this is greater than the peacock!" 
 
 It still remembered what, in its days of childhood, the 
 Mother Sparrow had declared to be the greatest among the 
 beautiful. The Sparrow flew down into the courtyard. 
 There everything was very splendid; upon the walls palms 
 and branches were painted; in the midst of the court stood a 
 great blooming rose tree, spreading out its fresh branches, 
 covered with many roses, over a grave. Thither the maiden 
 Sparrow flew, for there she saw many of her own kind. 
 "Piep!" and three courtesies with the left leg — that saluta- 
 tion it had often made throughout the summer, and nobody 
 had replied, for friends who are once parted don't meet every 
 day; and now this form of greeting had become quite a 
 habit with it. But to-day two old Sparrows and a young 
 one replied "Piep!" and courtesied three times, each with 
 the left leg. 
 
 "Ah! good-day! good-day!" They were two old ones 
 from the nest, and a little one belonging to the family. "Do 
 we meet here again? It's a grand place, but there's not 
 much to eat. This is the beautiful! Piep!" 
 
 And many people came out of the side chambers, where 
 the glorious marble statues stood, and approached the grave 
 where slept the great master who had formed these marble 
 images. All stood with radiant faces by Thorwaldsen's 
 grave, and some gathered up the fallen rose leaves and kept 
 them. They had come from afar; one from mighty Eng- 
 land, others from Germany and France. The most beauti- 
 ful among the ladies plucked one of the roses and hid it in 
 her bosom. Then the Sparrows thought that the roses ruled 
 here, and that the whole house had been built for their sake ; 
 that appeared to them to be too much; but as all the people 
 showed their love for the roses, they would not be behind- 
 hand. "Piep!'' they said, and swept the ground with their 
 tails, and glanced with one eye at the Roses; and they had 
 not looked long at the flowers before they recognized them 
 
 22 
 
338 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 as old neighbors. And so the Roses really were. The 
 painter, who had sketched the rose bush by the ruined 
 house, had afterward received permission to dig it up, and 
 had given it to the architect, for nowhere could more beau- 
 tiful roses be found. And the architect had planted it upon 
 Thorwaldsen's grave, where it bloomed, an image of the 
 beautiful, and gave its red, fragrant leaves to be carried into 
 distant lands as mementoes. 
 
 "Have you found a situation here in the town?" asked the 
 Sparrows. 
 
 And the Roses nodded; they recognized their brown 
 neighbors, and were glad to see them again. "How glori-> 
 ous it is to live, and bloom, to see old faces again, and cheer- 
 ful faces every day!" 
 
 "Piep!" said the Sparrows. "Yes, these are truly our old 
 neighbors; we remember their origin by the pond. Piep! 
 how they've got on! Yes, some people succeed while they're 
 asleep. Why, yonder is a withered leaf — I see it quite 
 plainly!" 
 
 And they picked at it till the leaf fell. But the tree 
 stood there greener and fresher than ever; the sweet Roses 
 bloomed in the sunshine by Thorwaldsen's grave, and were 
 associated with his immortal name. 
 
 THE LITTLE MATCH GIRL. 
 
 It was terribly cold; it snov/ed and was already almost 
 dark, and evening came on, the last evening of the year. In 
 the cold and gloom a poor little girl, bareheaded and bare- 
 foot, was walking through the streets. When she left her 
 own house she certainly had had slippers on; but of what 
 use were they? They were big slippers, and her mother 
 had used them till then, so big were they. The little maid 
 lost them as she slipped across the road, where two carriages 
 were rattling by terribly fast. One slipper was not to be 
 found again, and a boy had seized the other, and run away 
 with it. He thought he could use it very well as a cradle, 
 some day when he had children of his own. So now the lit- 
 tle girl went with her little naked feet, which were quite red 
 and blue with the cold. In an old apron she carried a num- 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 339 
 
 ber of matches, and a bundle of them in her hand. No 
 one had bought of her all day, and no one had given her a 
 
 farthing. 
 
 Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept along, a pic- 
 ture of misery, poor little girl! The snowflakes covered 
 her long fair hair, which fell in pretty curls over her neck; 
 but she did not think of that now. In all the windows 
 lights were shining, and there was a glorious smell of roast 
 goose, for it was New Year's Eve. Yes, she thought of 
 that! 
 
 In a corner formed by two houses, one of which projected 
 beyond the other, she sat down, cowering. She had drawn 
 up her little feet, but she was still colder, and she did not 
 dare to go home, for she had sold no matches, and did not 
 bring a farthing of money. From her father she would cer- 
 tainly receive a beating, and besides it was cold at home, for 
 they had nothing over them but a roof through which the 
 wind whistled, though the largest rents had been stopped 
 with straw and rags. 
 
 Her little hands were almost benumbed with the cold! 
 Ah! a match might do her good, if she could only draw one 
 from the bundle, and rub it against the wall, and warm her 
 hands at it. She drew one out. R-r-atch ! how it sputtered 
 and burned! It was a warm, bright flame, like a little can- 
 dle, when she held her hands over it; it was a wonderful lit- 
 tle light! It really seemed to the little girl as if she sat be- 
 fore a great polished stove, with bright brass feet and a 
 brass cover. How the fire burned! how comfortable it was! 
 But the little flame went out, and the stove vanished, and 
 she had only the remains of the burned match in her hand. 
 
 A second was rubbed against the wall. It burned up, 
 and when the light fell upon the wall it became transparent, 
 like a thin veil, and she could see through it into the room. 
 On the table a snow-white cloth was spread; upon it stood 
 a shining dinner service; the roast goose smoked gloriously, 
 stufifed with apples and dried plums. And what was still 
 more splendid to behold, the goose hopped down from the 
 dish, and waddled along the floor, with a knife and fork in 
 its breast, to the little girl. Then the match went out, and 
 only the thick, damp, cold wall was before her. She lighted 
 another match. Then she was sitting under a beautiful 
 Christmas tree; it was greater and more ornamental than the 
 
340 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 one she had seen through the glass door at the rich mer- 
 chant's. Thousands of candles burned upon the green 
 branches, and colored pictures like those in the. print shops 
 looked down upon them. The little girl stretched forth her 
 hand toward them; then the match went out. The Christ- 
 mas lights mounted higher. She saw them now as stars in 
 the sky; one of them fell down, forming a long line of fire. 
 
 "Now someone is dying," thought the little girl, for her 
 old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and 
 who was now dead, had told her when a star fell down a 
 soul mounted up to God. She rubbed another match 
 against the wall; it became bright again, and in the bright- 
 ness the old grandmother stood clear and shining, mild and 
 lovely. 
 
 "Grandmother!" cried the child, "oh! take me with you! 
 I know you will go when the match is burned out. You will 
 vanish like the warm fire, the warm food, and the great glori- 
 ous Christmas tree!" 
 
 And she hastily rubbed the v/hole bundle of matches, for 
 she wished to hold her grandmother fast. And the matches 
 burned with such a glow that it became brighter than in the 
 middle of the day; grandmother had never been so large or 
 so beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and both 
 flew with brightness and joy above the earth, very, very 
 high, and up there was neither cold, nor hunger, nor care — 
 they were with God! 
 
 But in the corner, leaning against the wall, sat the poor 
 girl, with red cheeks and smiling mouth, frozen to death on 
 the last evening of the Old Year. The New Year's sun rose 
 upon a little corpse! The child sat there, stiff and cold, 
 with the matches of which one bundle was burned. "She 
 wanted to warm herself," the people said. No one imag- 
 ined what a beautiful thing she had seen, and in what glory 
 she had gone in with her grandmother to the New Year's 
 Day. 
 
 THE ELF HILL. 
 
 A few great Lizards raced nimbly about in the clefts of an 
 old tree; they could understand each other very well, for 
 they spoke the Lizards' language. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 341 
 
 "How it grumbles and growls in the old elf hill!" said one 
 Lizard. "I've not been able to close my eyes for two nights, 
 because of the noise; I might just as well lie and have the 
 toothache, for then I can't sleep either." 
 
 "There's something wrong in there," said the other Liz- 
 ard. "They let the hill stand on four red posts till the cock 
 crows at morn. It is regularly aired, and the elf girls have 
 learned new dances. There's something going on." 
 
 "Yes, I have spoken with an Earthworm of my acquaint- 
 ance," said the third Lizard. "The Earthworm came straight 
 out of the hill, where he had been grubbing in the ground 
 night and day; he had heard much. He can't see, the mis- 
 erable creature, but he understands how to toss about and 
 listen. They expect some friends in the elf hill — grand 
 strangers; but who they are the Earthworm would not tell, 
 and perhaps, indeed, he did not know. All the Will-o'-the- 
 wisps are ordered to hold a torch dance, as it is called; and 
 silver and gold, of which there is enough in the elf hill, is 
 being polished and put out in the moonshine." 
 
 "Who may these strangers be?" asked all the Lizards. 
 "What can be going on there? Hark, how it hums! Hark, 
 how it murmurs !" 
 
 At the same moment the elf hill opened, and an old elf 
 maid,* hollow behind, came tripping out. She was the old 
 Elf King's housekeeper. She .was a distant relative of the 
 royal family, and wore an amber heart on her forehead. Her 
 legs moved so rapidly — trip, trip ! Gracious ! how she could 
 trip ! straight down to the sea, to the Night Raven. 
 
 "You are invited to the elf hill for this evening," said she; 
 "but will you do me a great service and undertake the invi- 
 tations? You must do something, as you don't keep any 
 house yourself. We shall have some very distinguished 
 friends, magicians who have something to say; and so the 
 old Elf King wants to make a display." 
 
 "Who's to be invited?" asked the Night Raven. 
 
 "To the great ball the world m.ay come, even men, if they 
 can talk in their sleep, or do something that falls in our line. 
 But at the first feast there's to be a strict selection; we will 
 
 * A prevailing superstition regarding the elf maid, or elle maid, 
 is, that she is fair to look at in front, but behind she is hollow, 
 like a mask. 
 
342 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 have only the most distinguished. I have had a dispute with 
 the Elf King, for I declared that we would not even admit 
 ghosts. The merman and his daughters must be invited 
 first. They may not be very well pleased to come on dry 
 land, but they shall have a wet stone to sit upon, or some- 
 thing still better, and then I think they won't refuse for this 
 time. All the old demons of the first class, with tails, and 
 the wood demon and his gnomes, we must have ; and then I 
 think we may not leave out the grave pig, the death horse,* 
 and the church twig; they certainly belong to the clergy, 
 and are not reckoned among our people. But that's only 
 their office; they are closely related to us, and visit us dili- 
 gently." 
 
 "Croak!" said the Night Raven, and flew away to give 
 the invitations. 
 
 The elf girls were already dancing on the elf hill, and they 
 danced with shawls, which were woven of mist and moon- 
 shine; and that looks very pretty for those who like that sort 
 of thing. In the mist, below the elf hill, the great hall was 
 splendidly decorated; the floor had been washed with moon- 
 shine, and the walls rubbed with witches' salve, so that they 
 glowed like tulips in the light. In the kitchen, plenty of 
 frogs were turning on the spit, snail skins with children's 
 fingers in them, and salads of mushroom, spawn, damp 
 mouse muzzles, and hemlock; beer brewed by the marsh 
 witch, gleaming saltpeter wine from grave cellars, every- 
 thing very grand; and rusty nails and church windowglass 
 among the sweets. 
 
 The old Elf King had one of his crowns polished with 
 powdered slate pencil ; it was slate pencil from the first form, 
 and it's very difficult for the Elf King to get first-form slate 
 pencil! In the bedroom curtains were hung up, and fas- 
 tened with snail slime. Yes, there was a grumbling and 
 murmuring there ! 
 
 "Now we must burn horse hair and pigs' bristles as in- 
 
 * It is a popular superstition in Denmark, that under every 
 church that is built, a living horse must be buried; the ghost of 
 this horse is the death horse, that limps every night on three legs 
 to the house where someone is to die. Under a few churches a 
 living pig was buried, and the ghost of this was called the grave 
 pig. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 343 
 
 cense here," said the Elf King, "and then I think I shall have 
 done my part." 
 
 "Father, dear," said the youngest of the daughters, "shall 
 I hear now who the distinguished strangers are?" 
 
 "Well," said he, "I suppose I must tell it now. Two of 
 my daughters must hold themselves prepared to be married; 
 two will certainly be married. The old gnome from Nor- 
 way yonder, he who lives in the Dovre mountains, and pos- 
 sesses many rock castles of field stones, and a gold mine 
 which is better than one thinks, is coming with his two sons, 
 who want each to select a wife. The old gnome is a true 
 old honest Norwegian veteran, merry and straightforward. 
 I know him from old days, when we drank brotherhood with 
 one another. He was down here to fetch his wife; now she 
 is dead^ — she vv'as a daughter of the King of the Chalk-rocks 
 of Moen. He took his wife upon chalk, as the saying is. 
 Oh, how I long to see the old Norwegian gnome ! The lads, 
 they say, are rather rude, forward lads ; but perhaps they are 
 belied, and they'll be right enough when they grow older. 
 Let me see that you can teach them manners." 
 
 "And when will they come?" asked the daughters. 
 
 "That depends on wind and weather," said the Elf King. 
 "They travel economically; they come when there's a 
 chance by a ship. I wanted them to go across Sweden, but 
 the old one would not incline to that wish. He does not ad- 
 vance with the times, and I don't like that." 
 
 Then two Will-o'-the-wisps came hopping up, one quicker 
 than the other, and so one of them arrived first. 
 
 "They're coming! they're coming!" they cried. 
 
 "Give me my crown, and let me stand in the moonshine," 
 said the Elf King. 
 
 And the daughters lifted up their shawls and bowed down 
 to the earth. 
 
 There stood the old gnome of Dovre, with the crown of 
 hardened ice and polished fir cones; moreover, he wore a 
 bear-skin and great warm boots. His sons, on the contrary, 
 went bare-necked, and with trousers without braces, for they 
 were strong men. 
 
 "Is that an acclivity?" asked the youngest of the lads; 
 and he pointed to the elf hill. "In Norway yonder we should 
 call it a hole." 
 
344 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "Boys!" said the old man, "holes go down, mounds go up. 
 Have you no eyes in your heads?" 
 
 The only thing they wondered at down here, they said, 
 was that they could understand the language without dif- 
 ficulty. 
 
 "Don't give yourselves airs," said the old man. "One 
 would think you were home nurtured." 
 
 And then they went into the elf hill, where the really grand 
 company were assembled, and that in such haste that one 
 might almost say they had been blow^n together. But 
 for each it was nicely and prettily arranged. The sea folks 
 sat at table in great washing tubs; they said it was just as if 
 they were at home. All observed the ceremonies of the 
 table except the two young Northern gnomes, and they put 
 their legs up on the table; but they thought all that suited 
 them well. 
 
 "Your feet off the table cloth!" cried the old gnome. 
 
 And they obeyed, but not immediately. The ladies they 
 tickled with pine cones that they had brought with them, 
 and then took off their boots for their own convenience, and 
 gave them to the ladies to hold. But the father, the old 
 Dovre gnome, was quite different from them; he told such 
 line stories of the proud Norwegian rocks, and of the water- 
 falls, which rushed down with white foam and with a noise 
 like thunder and the sound of organs ; he told of the salmon 
 that leaps up against the falling waters when the Reck plays 
 upon the golden harp; he told of shining winter nights, 
 when the sledge bells sound, and the lads run with burning 
 torches over the ice, which is so transparent that they see 
 the fishes start beneath their feet. Yes! he could tell It so 
 finely that one saw what he described; it was just as if the 
 sawmills were going, as if the servants and maids were sing- 
 ing songs and dancing the kalling dance. Hurrah! all at 
 once the old gnome gave the old elf girl a kiss; that was a 
 kiss! and yet they were nothing to each other. 
 
 Now the elf maidens had to dance nimbly, and also with 
 stamping steps, and that suited them well; then came the 
 artistic and solo dance. Wonderful how they could use 
 their legs! one hardly knew where they began and where 
 they ended, which were their arms and which their legs — 
 they were all mingled together like wood shavings; and 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 345 
 
 ■ then they whirled round till the death horse and the grave 
 pig turned giddy, and were obliged to leave the table. 
 
 "Purr!" exclaimed the old gnome; "that's a strange fash- 
 ion of using one's legs. But what can they do more than 
 dance, stretch out their limbs, and make a whirlwind?" 
 
 "You shall soon know!" said the Elf King. 
 
 And then he called forth the youngest of his daughters. 
 She was as light and graceful as moonshine; she was the 
 most delicate of all the sisters. She took a white shaving 
 in her mouth, and then she was quite gone; that was her 
 art. 
 
 But the old gnome said he should not like his wife to pos- 
 sess this art, and he did not think that his boys cared for it. 
 
 The other could walk under herself, just as if she had a 
 shadow, and the gnome people had none. The third daugh- 
 ter was of quite another kind; she had served in the brew- 
 house of the moor witch, and knew how to stuff elder-tree 
 knots with glow-worms. 
 
 "She will make a good housewife," said the old gnome; 
 and then he winked a health with his eyes, for he did not 
 want to drink too much. 
 
 Now came the fourth; she had a great harp to play upon, 
 and when she struck the first chord all lifted up their left feet, 
 for gnomes are left-legged; and when she struck the second 
 chord all were compelled to do as she wished. 
 
 "That's a dangerous woman!" said the old gnome; but 
 both the sons went out of the hill, for they had had enough 
 of it. 
 
 "And what can the next daughter do?" asked the old 
 gnome. 
 
 "I have learned to love what is Norwegian," said she, 
 "and I will never marry unless I can go to Norway." 
 
 But the youngest sister whispered to the old King, 
 "That's only because she has heard, in a Norwegian song, 
 that when the world sinks down, the cliffs of Norway will 
 remain standing like monuments, and so she wants to get 
 up there, because she is afraid of sinking down." 
 
 "Ho! ho!" said the old gnome, "was it meant in that way? 
 But what can the seventh and last do?" 
 
 "The sixth comes before the seventh!" said the Elf King, 
 for he could count. But the sixth would not come out. 
 
346 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "I can only tell people the truth!" said she. "Nobody 
 cares for me, and I have enough to do to sew my shroud." 
 
 Now came the seventh and last, and what could she do? 
 Why, she could tell stories, as many as they wished. 
 
 "Here are all my fingers," said the old gnome, "tell me one 
 for each." 
 
 And she took him by the wrist, and he laughed till it 
 clucked within him; and when she came to the ring finger, 
 which had a ring round its waist, just as if it knew there was 
 to be a wedding, the old gnome said: 
 
 "Hold fast what you have; the hand is yours; I'll have 
 you for my own wife." 
 
 And the elf girl said that the story of the ring finger and 
 of little Peter Playman, the fifth, were still wanting. 
 
 "We'll hear those in winter," said the gnome, "and we'll 
 hear about the pine tree, and about the birch, and about the 
 spirits' gifts, and about the biting frost. You shall tell your 
 tales, for no one up there knows how to do that well; and 
 then we'll sit in the stone chamber, where the pine logs burn, 
 and drink mead out of the horns of the old Norwegian 
 Kings — Reck has given me a couple; and when we sit there, 
 and the Nix comes on a visit, she'll sing you all the songs of 
 the shepherds in the mountains. That will be merry. The 
 salmon will spring in the waterfall, and beat against the 
 stone walls, but he shall not come in." 
 
 "Yes, it's good living in Norway; but where are the 
 lads?" 
 
 Yes, where were they? They were running about in the 
 fields, and blowing out the Will-o'-the-wisps, which had 
 come so good-naturedly for the torch dance. 
 
 "What romping about is this?" said the old gnome. "I 
 have taken a mother for you, and now you may take one of 
 the aunts." 
 
 But the lads said they would rather make a speech and 
 drink brotherhood — they did not care to marry; so they 
 made speeches, and drank brotherhood, and tipped up their 
 glasses on their nails, to show they had emptied them. 
 Afterward they took their coats off and lay down on the 
 table to sleep, for they made no ceremony. But the old 
 gnome danced about the room with his young bride, and he 
 changed boots with her, for that's more fashionable than 
 exchanging rings. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 347 
 
 "Now the cock crows," said the old eh girl, who attended 
 to the housekeeping. "Now we must shut the shutters, so 
 that the sun may not burn us." 
 
 And the hill shut itself up. But outside, the Lizards ran 
 up and down in the cleft-tree, and one said to the other: 
 
 "Oh, how I like that old Norwegian gnome!" 
 
 "I like the lads better,'' said the ^^rthworm. But he 
 could not see, the miserable creature. 
 
 THE BUCKWHEAT. 
 
 Often, after a thunderstorm, when one passes a field in 
 which buckwheat is growing, it appears quite blackened and 
 singed. It is just as if a flame of fire had passed across it; 
 and then the countryman says, "It got that from lightning." 
 But whence has it received that? I will tell you what the 
 Sparrow told me about it, and the Sparrow heard it from 
 an old Willow Tree which stood by a Buckwheat field, and 
 still stands there. It is quite a great venerable Willow 
 Tree, but crippled and old; it is burst in the middle, and 
 grass and brambles grow out of the cleft; the tree bends 
 forward, and the branches hang quite down to the ground, 
 as if they were long green hair. 
 
 On all the fields round about corn was growing, not only 
 rye and barley, but also oats; yes, the most capital oats, 
 which when ripe looks like a number of little yellow can- 
 ary birds sitting upon a spray. The corn stood smiling, 
 and the richer an ear was, the deeper did it bend in pious 
 humility. 
 
 But there was also a field of Buckwheat, and this field was 
 exactly opposite to the old Willow Tree. The Buckwheat 
 did not bend at all, like the rest of the grain, but stood up 
 proudly and stiffly. 
 
 "I'm as rich as any corn-ear," said he. Moreover, I'm 
 very much handsomer; my flowers are beautiful as the blos- 
 soms of the apple tree; it's quite a delight to look upon me 
 and mine. Do you know anything more splendid than we 
 are, you old Willow Tree?" 
 
 And the Willow Tree nodded his head, just as if he would 
 have said, "Yes, that's true enough!" 
 
348 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 But the Buckwheat spread itself out in mere vainglory, 
 and said: 
 
 "The stupid tree! he's so old that the grass grows in his 
 body." 
 
 Now a terrible storm came on ; all the field flowers folded 
 their leaves together or bowed their little heads while the 
 storm passed over them, but the Buckwheat stood erect in 
 its pride. 
 
 "Bend your head like us,'' said the Flowers. 
 
 "I've not the slightest cause to do so," replied the Buck- 
 wheat. 
 
 "Bend your head as we do," cried the various Crops. 
 "Now the storm comes flying on. He has wings that reach 
 from the clouds down to the earth, and he'll beat you in 
 halves before you can cry for mercy." 
 
 "Yes, but I won't bend," quoth the Buckwheat. 
 
 "Shut up your flowers and bend your leaves,'' said the old 
 Willow Tree. "Don't look up at the lightning, when the 
 cloud bursts; even men do not do that, for in the lightning 
 one may look into heaven, but the light dazzles even men: 
 and what would happen to us, if we dared to do so — we. the 
 plants of the field, that are much less worthy than they?" 
 
 "Much less worthy!" cried the Buckwheat. "Now I'll 
 just look straight up into heaven." 
 
 And it did so, in its pride and vainglory. It was as if the 
 whole world were on fire, so vivid was the lightning. 
 
 When afterward the bad weather had passed by, the 
 flowers and the crops stood in the still pure air, quite re- 
 freshed by the rain; but the Buckwheat was burned coal- 
 black by the lightning, and it was now like a dead weed 
 upon the field. 
 
 And the old Willow Tree waved its branches in the wind, 
 and great drops of water fell down out of the green leaves 
 just as if the tree wept. 
 
 And the Sparrows asked, "Why do you weep? Here 
 everything is so cheerful; see how the sun shines, see how 
 the clouds sail on. Do you not breathe the scent of flowers 
 and bushes? Why do you weep, Willow Tree?" 
 
 And the Willow Tree told them of the pride of the Buck- 
 wheat, of its vainglory, and of the punishment which always 
 follows such sin. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 349 
 
 I, who tell you this tale, have heard it from the Sparrows. 
 They told it me one evening when I begged them to give me 
 a story. 
 
 THE OLD HOUSE. 
 
 Down yonder, in the street, stood an old, old house. It 
 was almost three hundred years old, for one could read as 
 much on the beam, on which was carved the date of its 
 erection, surrounded by tulips and trailing hops. There 
 one could read entire verses in the characters of olden 
 times, and over each window a face had been carved in the 
 beam, and these faces made all kinds of grimaces. One 
 story projected a long way above the other, and close under 
 the roof was a leaden gutter with a dragon's head. The 
 rainwater was to run out of the dragon's mouth, but it ran 
 out of the creature's body instead, for there was a hole in 
 the pipe. 
 
 All the other houses in the street were still new and neat, 
 with large window panes and smooth walls. One could 
 easily see that they could have nothing to do with the old 
 house. They thought, perhaps, "How long is that old rub- 
 bish heap to stand there, a scandal to the whole street? The 
 parapet stands so far forward that no one can see out of our 
 windows what is going on in that direction. The staircase 
 is as broad as a castle staircase, and as steep as if it led to a 
 church tower. The iron railing looks like the gate of a fam- 
 ily vault, and there are brass bosses upon it. It's too ridicu- 
 lous !" 
 
 Just opposite stood some more new, neat houses that 
 thought exactly like the rest; but here at the window sat 
 a little boy, with fresh, red cheeks, with clear, sparkling 
 eyes, and he was particularly fond of the old house, in sun- 
 shine as well as by moonlight. And when he looked down 
 at the wall where the plaster had fallen off, then he could sit 
 and fancy all kinds of pictures — how the street must have 
 appeared in old times, with parapets, open staircases, and 
 pointed gables; he could see soldiers with halberds, and 
 roof-gutters running about in the form of dragons and 
 griffins. That was just a good house to look at; and in it 
 lived an old man, who went about in leather knee smalls, 
 
350 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 and wore a coat with great brass buttons, and a wig, which 
 one could at once see was a real wig. Every morning an 
 old man came to him to clean his rooms and run on his er- 
 rands. With this exception the old man in the leather knee 
 smalls was all alone in the old house. Sometimes he came 
 to one of the windows and looked out, and the little boy 
 nodded to him, and the old man nodded back, and thus 
 they became acquainted and became friends, though they 
 had never spoken to one another; but, indeed, that was not 
 at all necessary. 
 
 The little boy heard his parents say, 'The old man op- 
 posite is very well off, but he is terribly lonely." 
 
 Next Sunday the little boy wrapped something in a piece 
 of paper, went with it to the house door, and said to the 
 man who ran errands for the old gentleman: 
 
 "Harkye; will you take this to the old gentleman oppo- 
 site for me? I have two tin soldiers; this is one of them, 
 and he shall have it, because I know that he is terribly 
 lonely." 
 
 And the old attendant looked quite pleased, and nodded, 
 and carried the Tin Soldier into the old house. Afterward 
 he was sent over, to ask if the little boy would not like to 
 come himself and pay a visit. His parents gave him leave; 
 and so it was that he came to the old house. 
 
 The brass bosses on the staircase shone much more 
 brightly than usual ; one would have thought they had been 
 polished in honor of his visit. And it was just as if the 
 carved trumpeters — for on the doors there were carved 
 trumpeters, standing in tulips — were blowing with all their 
 might; their cheeks looked much rounder than before. Yes, 
 they blew "Tan-ta-ra-ra! the little boy's coming! tan-ta- 
 ra-ra!" and then the door opened. The whole of the hall 
 was hung with old portraits of knights in armor and ladies 
 in silk gowns; and the armor rattled and the silk dresses 
 rustled; and then came a staircase that went up a great way 
 and down a little way, and then one came to a balcony 
 which was certainly in a very rickety state, with long cracks 
 and great holes; but out of all these grew grass and leaves, 
 for the whole balcony, the courtyard, and the wall were 
 overgrown with so much green that it looked like a gar- 
 den, but it was only a balcony. Here stood old flower pots 
 that had faces with asses' ears; but the flowers grew just 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 351 
 
 as they chose. In one pot pinks were growing over on all 
 sides; that is to say, the green stalks, sprout upon sprout, 
 and they said quite plainly, "The air has caressed me and 
 the sun has kissed me, and promised me a little flower for 
 next Sunday, a little flower next Sunday !" 
 
 And then they came to a room where the walls were 
 covered with pig skin, and golden flowers had been stamped 
 on the leather. 
 
 "Flowers fade fast. 
 But pig-skin will last," 
 
 said the walls. And there stood chairs with quite high 
 backs, with carved work and elbows on each side. 
 
 "Sit down!'' said they. "Oh, how it cracks inside me! 
 Now I shall be sure to have the gout, like the old cupboard. 
 Gout in my back, ugh!" 
 
 And then the little boy came to the room where the old 
 man sat. 
 
 "Thank you for the Tin Soldier, my little friend," said 
 the old man, "and thank you for coming over to me." 
 
 "Thanks! thanks!" or "Crick! crack!" said all the fur- 
 niture; there were so many pieces that they almost stood 
 in each other's way to see the little boy. 
 
 And in the middle, on the wall, hung a picture, a beauti- 
 ful lady, young and cheerful in appearance, but dressed just 
 like people of the old times, with powder in her hair and 
 skirts that stuck out stiffly. She said neither thanks nor 
 crack, but looked down upon the little boy with her mild 
 eyes; and he at once asked the old man: 
 
 "Where did you get her from?" 
 
 "From the dealer opposite,'' replied the old man. "Many 
 pictures are always hanging there. No one knew them or 
 troubled himself about them, for they are all buried. But 
 many years ago I knew this lady, and now she's been dead 
 and gone for half a century." 
 
 And under the picture hung, behind glass, a nosegay of 
 withered flowers; they were certainly also half a century old 
 — at least they looked it; and the pendulum of the great 
 clock went to and fro, and the hands turned round and 
 everything in the room grew older still, but no one noticed 
 it. 
 
352 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "They say at home," said the Httle boy, "that you are al- 
 ways terribly solitary." 
 
 "Oh," answered the old man, "old thoughts come, with all 
 that they bring, to visit me; and now you are coming, too, 
 I'm very well off." 
 
 And then he took from a shelf a book with pictures ; there 
 were long processions of wonderful coaches, such as one 
 never sees at the present day, soldiers like the knave of 
 clubs, and citizens with waving flags. The tailors had a 
 flag with shears on it held by two lions, and the shoemakers 
 a flag without boots, but with an eagle that had two heads ; 
 for among the shoemakers everything must be so arranged 
 that they can say, "There's a pair." Yes, that was a picture 
 book! And the old man went into the other room, to fetch 
 preserves, and apples, and nuts. It was reall}^ glorious in 
 that old house. 
 
 'T can't stand it!" said the Tin Soldier, who stood upon 
 the shelf. "It is terribly lonely and dull here. When a per- 
 son has been accustomed to family life, one cannot get ac- 
 customed to their existence here. I cannot stand it! The 
 day is long enough, but the evening is longer still! Here 
 it is not at all like in your house opposite, where your father 
 and mother were always conversing cheerfully together, 
 and you and all the other dear children made a famous 
 noise. How solitary it is here at the old man's! Do you 
 think he gets any kisses? Do you think he gets friendly 
 looks, or a Christmas tree? He'll get nothing but a grave! 
 I cannot stand it!" 
 
 "You must not look at it from the sorrowful side," said 
 the little boy. "To me all appears remarkably pretty, and all 
 the old thoughts, with all they bring with them, come to 
 visit here." 
 
 "Yes, but I don't see them, and don't know them," ob- 
 jected the Tin Soldier. "I can't bear it!" 
 
 "You must bear it." said the little boy. 
 
 And the old man came with the pleasantest face and with 
 the best of preserved fruits and apples and nuts; and then 
 the little boy thought no more of the Tin Soldier. Happy 
 and delighted, the youngster went home; and days went 
 by, weeks went by, and there was much nodding from the 
 boy's home across to the old house and back; and then the 
 little boy went over there again. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 353 
 
 And the carved trumpeters blew, "Tan-ta-ra-ra ! tan-ta-ra- 
 ra! there's the Httle boy, tan-ta-ra-ra !" and the swords and 
 armor on the old pictures rattled, and the silken dresses 
 rustled, and the leather told tales, and the old chairs had the 
 gout in their backs. Ugh! it was just like the first time, for 
 over there one day or one hour was just like another. 
 
 "I can't stand it!" said the Tin Soldier. "I've wept tears 
 of tin. It's too dreamy here. I had rather go to war and 
 lose my arms and legs; at any rate, that's a change. I can- 
 not stand it ! Now I know what it means to have a visit from 
 one's old thoughts, and all they bring with them. I've had 
 visits from my own, and you may believe me, that's no 
 pleasure in the long run. I was very nearly jumping down 
 from the shelf. I could see you all in the house opposite as 
 plainly as if you had been here. It was Sunday morning, 
 and you children were all standing round the table singing 
 the psalm you sing every morning. You were standing 
 reverently, with folded hands, and your father and mother 
 were just as piously disposed; then the door opened, and 
 your little sister Maria, who is not two years old yet and 
 v/ho always dances when she hears music or singing, of 
 whatever description they may be, was brought in. She was 
 not to do it, but she immediately began to dance, though 
 she could not get into right time, for the music was too 
 slow, so she first stood on one leg and bent her head quite 
 over in front, but it was not long enough. You all stood 
 very quietly, though that was rather difficult; but I laughed 
 inwardly, and so I fell down from the table and got a bruise, 
 which I have still ; for it was not right of one to laugh. But 
 all this, and all the rest that I have experienced, now passes 
 by my inward vision, and those must be the old thoughts 
 with everything they bring with them. Tell me, do you 
 still sing on Sunday? Tell me something about Httle Maria. 
 And how is my comrade and brother Tin Soldier? Yes, he 
 must be very happy. I can't stand it!" 
 
 "You have been given away," said the little boy. "You 
 must stay where you are. Don't you see that?" 
 
 And the old man came with a box in which many things 
 were to be seen; little rouge-pots and scent-boxes; and old 
 cards so large and so richly gilt as one never sees them in 
 these days; and many little boxes were opened; likewise 
 the piano, and in this were painted landscapes, inside the 
 
 23 
 
354 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 lid. But the piano was quite hoarse when the old man 
 played upon it; and then he nodded to the picture that he 
 had bought at the dealer's, and then the old man's eyes 
 shone quite brightly. 
 
 "I'll go to the war! I'll go to the war!" cried the Tin 
 Soldier as loud as he could; and he threw himself down on 
 the floor. 
 
 Where had he gone? The old man searched, the little 
 boy searched, but he was gone, and could not be found. 
 
 "I shall find him," said the old man. 
 
 But he never fovmd him; the flooring was so open and full 
 of holes, that the Tin Soldier had fallen through a crack, 
 and there he lay, as in an open grave. 
 
 And the day passed away, and the little boy went home; 
 and the week passed by, and many weeks passed by. The 
 windows were quite frozen up, and the little boy had to sit 
 and breathe upon the panes, to make a peep-hole to look at 
 the old house ; and snow had blown among all the carvings 
 and the inscriptions, and covered the whole staircase, as if 
 no one were in the house at all. And, indeed, there was no 
 one in the house, for the old man had died! 
 
 In the evening a carriage stopped at the door, and in that 
 he was laid, in his coffin ; he was to rest in a family vault in 
 the country. So he was carried away; but no one followed 
 him on his last journey, for all his friends were dead. And 
 the little boy kissed his hand after the coffin as it rolled 
 away. 
 
 A few days later, and there was an auction in the old 
 house; and the little boy saw from his window how the old 
 knights and ladies, the flower pots with the long ears, the 
 chairs and the cupboards were carried away. One was 
 taken here, and then there; her portrait, that had been 
 bought by the dealer, went back into his shop, and there 
 it was hung, for no one cared for the old picture. 
 
 In the spring the house itself was pulled down, for the 
 people said it was old rubbish. One could look from the 
 street straight into the room with the leather wall-covering, 
 which was taken down, ragged and torn; and the green of 
 the balcony hung straggling over the beams, that threat- 
 ened to fall in altogether. And now a clearance was made. 
 
 "That does good !" said a neighbor. 
 
 And a capital house was built, with large windows and 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 355 
 
 smooth white walls; but in front of the place, where the old 
 house had really stood, a little garden was planted, and by 
 the neighbor's wall tall vine shoots clambered up. In front 
 of the garden was placed a great iron railing with an iron 
 door; and it had a stately look. The people stepped in 
 front, and looked through. And the sparrows sat down in 
 dozens upon the vine branches, and chattered all at once as 
 loud as they could; but not about the old house, for they 
 could not remember that, for many years had gone by — so 
 many, that the little boy had grown to be a man, a thorough 
 man, whose parents rejoiced in him. And he had just mar- 
 ried, and was come with his wife to live in the house, in 
 front of which was the garden; and here he stood next to 
 her while she planted a field flower which she considered 
 very pretty; she planted it with her little hand, pressing 
 the earth close round it with her fingers. "Ah, what was 
 that?" She pricked herself. Out of the soft earth some- 
 thing pointed was sticking up. Only think! that was the 
 Tin Soldier, the same that had been lost up in the old man's 
 room, and had been hidden among old wood and rubbish 
 for a long time, and had lain in the ground many a year. 
 And the young wife first dried the Soldier in a green leaf, 
 and then with her fine handkerchief, that smelt so deli- 
 ciously. And the Tin Soldier felt as if he were waking from 
 a fainting fit. 
 
 "Let me see him," said the young man. And then he 
 smiled and shook his head. "Yes, it can scarcely be the 
 same; but it reminds me of an affair with a Tin Soldier 
 which I had when I was a little boy." 
 
 And then he told his wife about the old house, and the 
 old man, and of the Tin Soldier he had sent across to the old 
 man whom he had thought so lonely; and the tears came 
 into the young wife's eyes for the old house and the old 
 man. 
 
 "It is possible, after all, that it may be the same Tin Sol- 
 dier," said she. "I will take care of him, and remember 
 what you have told me; but you must show me the old 
 man's grave." 
 
 "I don't know where that is," replied he, "and no one 
 knows it. All his friends were dead; none tended his grave, 
 and I was but a little boy." 
 
 "Ah, how terribly lonely he must have been!" said she. 
 
356 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 ''Yes, horribly lonely," said the Tin Soldier; "but it is 
 glorious not to be forgotten." 
 
 "Glorious!" repeated a voice close to them. 
 
 But nobody except the Tin Soldier perceived that it came 
 from a rag of the pig's leather hangings, which was now de- 
 void of all gilding. It looked like wet earth, but yet it had 
 an opinion, which it expressed thus: 
 
 "Gilding fades fast, 
 Pig-skin will last!" 
 
 But the Tin Soldier did not believe that. 
 
 THE HAPPY FAMILY. 
 
 The biggest leaf here in the country is certainly the bur- 
 dock leaf. Put one in front of your waist and it's just like 
 an apron, and if you lay it upon your head it is almost as 
 good as an umbrella, for it is quite remarkably large. A 
 burdock never grows alone; where there is one tree there 
 are several more. It's splendid to behold! and all this 
 splendor is snail's meat; the great white snails, which the 
 grand people in old times used to have made into fricassees, 
 and when they had eaten them they would say, "H'm, how 
 good that is !" for they had the idea that it tasted delicious. 
 These snails lived on burdock leaves, and that's why bur- 
 docks were sown. 
 
 Now, there was an old estate, on which people ate snails 
 no longer. The snails had died out, but the burdocks had 
 not. These latter grew and grew in all the walks and on all 
 the beds — there was no stopping them; the place became a 
 complete forest of burdocks. Here and there stood an apple 
 or plum tree; but for this, nobody would have thought a 
 garden had been there. Everything was burdock, and 
 among the burdocks lived the two last ancient Snails. 
 
 They did not know themselves how old they were, but 
 they could very well remember that there had been a great 
 many more of them, that they had descended from a foreign 
 family, and that the whole forest had been planted for them 
 and theirs. They had never been away from home, but it 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 357 
 
 was known to them that something existed in the world 
 called the ducal palace, and that there one was boiled, and 
 one became black, and was laid upon a silver dish; but 
 what was done afterward they did not know. Moreover, 
 they could not imagine what that might be, being boiled 
 and laid upon a silver dish; but it was stated to be fine, and 
 particularly grand! Neither the cockchafer, nor the toad, 
 nor the earthworm, whom they questioned about it, could 
 give them any inform.ation, for none of their own kind had 
 ever been boiled and laid on silver dishes. 
 
 The old white Snails were the grandest in the world; they 
 knev/ that! The forest was there for their sake, and the 
 ducal palace, too, so that they might be boiled and laid on 
 silver dishes. 
 
 They led a very retired and happy life, and as they them- 
 selves were childless, they had adopted a little common 
 Snail, which they brought up as their own child. But the 
 little thing would not grow, for it was only a common Snail, 
 though the old people, and particularly the mother, declared 
 one could easily see how he grew. And when_ the father 
 could not see it, she requested him to feel the little Snail's 
 shell, and he felt it, and acknowledged that she was right. 
 One day it rained very hard. 
 
 "Listen, how it's drumming on the burdock leaves, rum- 
 dum-dum! rum-dum-dum!" said the Father Snail. 
 
 "That's what I call drops," said the mother. "It's coming 
 straight down the stalks. "You'll see it will be wet here 
 directly. I'm only glad that we have our good houses, and 
 that the little one has his own. There has been more done 
 for us than for any other creature; one can see very plainly 
 that we are the grand folks of the world! We have houses 
 from our birth, and the burdock forest has been planted for 
 us ; I should like to know how far it extends, and what lies 
 beyond it." 
 
 "There's nothing," said the Father Snail, "that can be 
 better than here at home ; I have nothing at all to wish for." 
 
 "Yes," said the mother, "I should like to be taken to the 
 ducal palace, and be boiled and laid upon a silver dish; that 
 has been done to all our ancestors, and you may be sure it's 
 quite a distinguished honor." 
 
 "The ducal palace has perhaps fallen in," said the Father 
 Snail, "or the forest of burdocks may have grown over it, so 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 UN'VER 1 
 ST. LOUiS • O 
 
358 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 that the people can't get out at all. You need not be in a 
 hurry — but you always hurry so, and the little one is begin- 
 ning just the same way. Has he not been creeping up that 
 stalk these three days? My head quite aches when I look 
 up at him." 
 
 "You must not scold him," said the Mother Snail. "He 
 crawls very deliberately. We shall have much joy in him; 
 and we old people have nothing else to live for. But have 
 you ever thought where we shall get a wife for him? Don't 
 you think that farther in the wood there may be some more 
 of our kind?" 
 
 "There may be black snails there, I think," said the old 
 man, "black snails without houses! but they're too vulgar. 
 And they're conceited, for all that. But we can give the 
 commission to the Ants ; they run to and fro, as if they had 
 business ; they're sure to know of a wife for our young gen- 
 tleman." 
 
 "I certainly know the most beautiful of brides," said one 
 of the Ants; "but I fear she would not do, for she is the 
 Queen!" 
 
 "That does not matter," said the two old Snails. "Has she 
 a house?" 
 
 "She has a castle !" replied the Ant. "The most beautiful 
 ant's castle, with seven hundred passages." 
 
 "Thank you," said the Mother Snail; "our boy shall not 
 go into an ant hill. If you know of nothing better, we'll 
 give the commission to the white Gnats; they fly far about 
 in rain and sunshine, and they know the burdock wood, in- 
 side and outside." 
 
 "We have a wife for him," said the Gnats. "A hundred 
 man-steps from here a little Snail with a house is sitting on a 
 gooseberry bush; she is quite alone, and old enough to 
 marry. It's only a hundred man-steps from here." 
 
 "Yes, let her come to him," said the old people. "He has 
 a whole burdock forest, and she has only a bush." 
 
 And so they brought the little maiden Snail. Eight days 
 passed before she arrived, but that was the rare circumstance 
 about it, for by this one could see that she was of the right 
 kind. 
 
 And then they had a wedding. Six Glowworms lighted 
 as well as they could ; with this exception it went very 
 quietly, for the old Snail people could not bear feasting and 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 359 
 
 dissipation. But a capital speech was made by the Mother 
 Snail. The father could not speak, he was so much moved. 
 Then they gave the young couple the whole burdock forest 
 for an inheritance, and said, what they had always said, 
 namely — that it was the best place in the world, and that 
 the young people, if they lived honorably, and increased and 
 multiplied, would some day be taken with their children to 
 the ducal palace, and boiled black, and laid upon a silver 
 dish. And when the speech was finished, the old people 
 crept into their houses and never came out again, for they 
 slept. 
 
 The young Snail pair now ruled in the forest, and had a 
 numerous progeny. But as the young ones were never 
 boiled and put into silver dishes, they concluded that the 
 ducal palace had fallen in, and that all the people in the 
 world had died out. And as nobody contradicted them, 
 they must have been right. And the rain fell down upon the 
 burdock leaves to play the drum for them, and the sun shone 
 to color the burdock forest for them ; and they were happy, 
 very happy — the whole family was happy, uncommonly 
 happy ! 
 
 THE ROSE-ELF. 
 
 In the midst of the garden grew a rose bush, which was 
 quite covered with roses; and in one of them, the most 
 beautiful of all, there dwelt an elf. He was so tiny that no 
 human eye could see him. Behind every leaf in the rose he 
 had a bedroom. He was as well formed and beautiful as 
 any child could be, and had wings that reached from his 
 shoulders to his feet. Oh, what a fragrance there was in his 
 room! And how clear and bright were the walls! They 
 were made of the pale pink rose leaves. 
 
 The whole day he rejoiced in the warm sunshine, flew 
 from flower to flower, danced on the wings of the flying but- 
 terfly, and measured how many steps he would have to take 
 to pass along all the roads and cross roads that are marked 
 out on a single hidden leaf. What we call veins on the leaf 
 were to him high and cross roads. Yes, those were long 
 roads for him! Before he had finished his journey the sun 
 went down, for he had begun his work too late! 
 
360 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TAI>ES. 
 
 It became very cold, the dew fell, and the wind blew; now 
 the best thing to be done was to come home. He made 
 what haste he could, but the rose had shut itself up, and 
 he could not get in; not a single rose stood open. The 
 poor little elf was very much frightened. He had never 
 been out at night before; he had always slumbered sweetly 
 and comfortably behind the warm rose leaves. Oh, it cer- 
 tainly would be the death of him. 
 
 At the other end of the garden there was,, he knew, an 
 arbor of fine honeysuckle. The flowers looked like great 
 painted horns, and he wished to go down into one of them 
 to sleep till the next day. 
 
 He flew thither. Silence! Two people were in there — a 
 handsome young man and a young girl. They sat side by 
 side, and wished that they need never part. They loved 
 each other better than a good child loves its father and 
 mother. 
 
 "Yet we must part!" said the young man. "Your 
 brother does not like us, therefore he sends me away on an 
 errand so far over mountains and seas. Farewell, my sweet 
 bride, for that you shall be !" 
 
 And they kissed each other, and the young girl wept, and 
 gave him a rose. But, before she gave it him, she impressed 
 a kiss so firmly and closely upon it that the flower opened. 
 Then the little elf flew into it, and leaned his head against 
 the delicate, fragrant walls. Here he could plainly hear 
 them say "Farewell! farewell!" and he felt that the rose was 
 placed on the young man's heart. Oh. how that heart beat! 
 The little elf could not go to sleep, it thumped so. 
 
 But not long did the rose rest undisturbed on that breast. 
 The man took it out, and as he went lonely through the 
 wood, he kissed the flower so often and so fervently that the 
 little elf was almost crushed. He could feel through the 
 leaf how the man's lips burned, and the rose itself had 
 opened, as if under the hottest noonday sun. 
 
 Then came another man, gloomy and wicked; he was the 
 bad brother of the pretty maiden. He drew out a sharp 
 knife, and while the other kissed the rose the bad man 
 stabbed him to death, and then, cutting ofif his head, buried 
 both head and body in the soft earth under the linden tree, 
 
 "Now he's forgotten and gone!" thought the wicked 
 brother; "he will never come back again. He was to have 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 361 
 
 taken a long journey over mountains and seas. One can 
 easily lose one's life, and he has lost his. He cannot come 
 back again, and my sister dare not ask news of him from 
 me." 
 
 Then with his feet he shuffled dry leaves over the loose 
 earth, and went home in the dark night. But he did not go 
 alone, as he thought; the little elf accompanied him. The 
 elf sat in a dry rolled-up linden leaf that had fallen on the 
 wicked man's hair as he dug. The hat was now placed over 
 the leaf, and it was very dark in the hat, and the elf trembled 
 with fear and with anger at the evil deed. 
 
 In the morning hour the bad man got home; he took of¥ 
 his hat, and went into his sister's bedroom. There lay the 
 beautiful, blooming girl, dreaming of him whom she loved 
 from her heart, and of whom she now believed that he was 
 going across the mountains and through the forests. And 
 the wicked brother bent over her, and laughed hideously, 
 as only a fiend can laugh. Then the dry leaf fell out of his 
 hair upon the coverlet; but he did not remark it, and he 
 went out to sleep a little himself in the morning hour. But 
 the elf slipped forth from the withered leaf, placed himself 
 in the ear of the sleeping girl, and told her, as in a dream, 
 the dreadful history of the murder; described to her the 
 place where her brother had slain her lover and buried his 
 corpse; told her of the blooming linden tree close by it, and 
 said : 
 
 "That you may not think it is only a dream that I have 
 told you, you will find on your bed a withered leaf." 
 
 And she found it when she awoke. Oh, what bitter tears 
 she wept! The window stood open the whole day; the lit- 
 tle elf could easily get out to the roses and all the other flow- 
 ers, but he could not find it in his heart to quit the afflicted 
 maiden. In the window stood a plant, a monthly rose bush; 
 he seated himself in one of the flowers, and looked at the 
 poor girl. Her brother often came into the room, and, in 
 spite of his wicked deed, he always seemed cheerful, but she 
 dared not say a word of the grief that was in her heart. 
 
 As soon as the night came, she crept out of the house, 
 went to the wood, to the place where the linden tree stood, 
 removed the leaves from the ground, turned up the earth, 
 and immediately found him who had been slain. Oh, how 
 she wept, and prayed that she might die also! 
 
362 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 Gladly would she have taken the corpse home with her, 
 but that she could not do so. Then she took the pale head, 
 with the closed eyes, kissed the cold mouth, and shook the 
 earth out of the beautiful hair. "That I will keep," she 
 said. And when she had laid earth upon the dead body she 
 took the head, and a little sprig- of the jasmine that bloomed 
 in the wood where he was buried, home with her. 
 
 As soon as she came into her room, she brought the 
 greatest flower pot she could find ; in this she laid the dead 
 man's head, strewed earth upon it, and then planted the 
 jasmine twig in the pot. 
 
 "Farewell! farewell!" whispered the little elf; he could 
 endure it no longer to see all this pain, and therefore flew 
 out to his rose in the garden. But the rose was faded; only 
 a few pale leaves clung to the wild bush. 
 
 "Alas! how soon everything good and beautiful passes 
 away!" sighed the elf. 
 
 At last he found another rose, and this became his house ; 
 behind its delicate, fragrant leaves he could hide himself 
 and dwell. 
 
 Every morning he flew to the window of the poor girl, 
 and she was always standing weeping by the flower pot. 
 The bitter tears fell upon the jasmine spray, and every day, 
 as the girl became paler and paler, the twig stood there 
 fresher and greener, and one shoot after another sprouted 
 forth, little white buds burst out, and these she kissed. But 
 the bad brother scolded his sister, and asked if she had gone 
 mad. He could not bear it, and could not imagine why she 
 was always weeping over the flower-pot. He did not know 
 what closed eyes were there, what red lips had there faded 
 into earth. And she bowed her head upon the flower pot, 
 and the little elf of the rose bush found her slumbering- 
 there. Then he seated himself in her ear, told her of the 
 evening in the arbor, of the fragrance of the rose, and the 
 love of the elves. And she dreamed a marvelously sweet 
 dream, and while she dreamed her life passed away. She 
 had died a quiet death, and she was in heaven, with him 
 whom she loved. 
 
 And the jasmine opened its great white bells. They smelt 
 quite peculiarly sweet; it could not weep in any other way 
 over the dead one. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 363 
 
 But the wicked brother looked at the beautiful blooming 
 plant, and took it for himself as an inheritance, and put it in 
 his sleeping room, close by his bed, for it was glorious to 
 look upon, and its fragrance was sweet and lovely. The 
 little Rose-elf followed, and went from flower to flower — 
 for in each dwelt a little soul — and told of the murdered 
 young man, whose head was now earth beneath the earth, 
 and told of the evil brother and of the poor sister, 
 
 "We know it!" said each soul in the flowers, "we know 
 it! have we not sprung from the eyes and lips of the mur- 
 dered man? We know it! we know it!" 
 
 And then they nodded in a strange fashion with their 
 heads. 
 
 The Rose-elf could not at all understand how they could 
 be so quiet, and he flew out to the bees that were gathering 
 honey, and told them the story of the wicked brother. And 
 the bees told it to their Queen, and the Queen commanded 
 that they should all kill the murderer next nxorning. But 
 in the night — it was the first night that followed upon the 
 sister's death — when the brother was sleeping in his bed, 
 close to the fragrant jasmine, each flower opened, and in- 
 visible, but armed with poisonous spears, the flower-souls 
 came out and seated themselves in his ear, and told him bad 
 dreams, and then flew across his lips and pricked his tongue 
 with the poisonous spears. 
 
 "Now we have avenged the dead man!" they said, and 
 flew back into the jasmine's white bells. 
 
 When the morning came and the windows of the bed- 
 chamber were opened, the Rose-elf and the Queen Bee and 
 the whole swarm of bees rushed in to kill him. 
 
 But he was dead already. People stood around his bed, 
 and said, "The scent of the jasmine has killed him!" Then 
 the Rose-elf understood the revenge of the flowers, and 
 told it to the Queen and to the bees, and the Queen hummed 
 with the whole swarm around the flower pot. The bees 
 were not to be driven away. Then a man carried away the 
 flower pot, and one of the bees stung him in the hand, so 
 that he let the pot fall, and it broke in pieces. 
 
 Then they beheld the whitened skull, and knew that the 
 dead man on the bed was a murderer. 
 
 And the Queen Bee hummed in the air, and sang of the 
 
364 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 revenge of the bees, and of the Rose-elf, and said that be- 
 hind the smallest leaf there dwells One Avho can bring the 
 evil to light, and repay it. 
 
 THE SHADOV/. 
 
 In the hot countries the sun burns very strongly; there 
 the people become quite mahogany brown, and in the very 
 hottest countries they are even burned into negroes. But 
 this time it was only to the hot countries that a learned man 
 out of the cold regions had come. He thought he could 
 roam about there just as he had been accustomed to do at 
 home; but he soon altered his opinion. He and all sensible 
 people had to remain at home, where the window shutters 
 and doors were shut all day long, and it looked as if all the 
 inmates were asleep or had gone out. The narrow street, 
 with the high houses, in which he lived, was, however, built 
 in such a way that the sun shone upon it from morning till 
 evening; it was really quite unbearable! The learned man 
 from the cold regions was a young man and a clever man; 
 it seemed to him as if he was sitting in a glowing oven that 
 exhausted him greatly, and he became quite thin; even his 
 Shadow shriveled up and became much smaller than it had 
 been at home; the sun even took the Shadow away, and it 
 did not return till the evening when the sun went down. 
 It was really a pleasure to see this. So soon as a light was 
 brought into the room the Shadow stretched itself quite up 
 the wall, farther even than the ceiling, so tall did it make 
 itself; it was obliged to stretch to get strength again. The 
 learned man went out into the balcony to stretch himself, 
 and so soon as the stars came out in the beautiful blue sky, 
 he felt himself reviving. On all the balconies in the streets 
 — and in the hot countries there is a balcony to every vv'in- 
 dow — young people now appeared, for one must breathe 
 fresh air, even if one has got used to becoming mahogany 
 brown; then it became lively above and below; the tink- 
 ers and tailors — by which we mean all kinds of people — sat 
 below in the street; then tables and chairs were brought 
 out, and candles burned, yes, more than a thousand candles; 
 one talked and then sang, and the people walked to and fro; 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 365 
 
 carriages drove past, mules trotted, "Kling-ling-ling!" for 
 they had bells on their harness; dead people were buried 
 with solemn songs; the church bells rang, and it was in- 
 deed very lively in the street. Only in one house, just op- 
 posite to that in which the learned man dwelt, it was quite 
 quiet, and yet somebody lived there, for there were flowers 
 upon the balcony, blooming beautifully in the hot sun, and 
 they could not have done this if they had not been watered, 
 so that someone must have watered them; therefore, there 
 must be people in that house. Toward evening the door 
 was half opened, but it was dark, at least in the front room ; 
 farther back, in the interior, music was heard. The strange 
 learned man thought this music very lovely, but it was quite 
 possible that he only imagined this, for out there in the hot 
 countries he found everything exquisite, if only there had 
 been no sun. The stranger's landlord said that he did not 
 know who had taken the opposite house — one saw nobody 
 there, and so far as the music was concerned, it seemed very 
 monotonous to him. 
 
 "It was just," he said, "as if someone sat there, always 
 practicing a piece that he could not manage — always the 
 same piece. He seemed to say, 'I shall manage it, after all!' 
 but he did not manage it, however long he played." 
 
 Will the stranger awake at night? He slept with the bal- 
 cony door open; the wind lifted up the curtain before it, and 
 he fancied that a wonderful radiance came from the balcony 
 of the house opposite; all the flowers appeared like flames 
 of the most gorgeous colors, and in the midst, among the 
 flowers, stood a beavitiful slender maiden; it seemed as if a 
 radiance came from her also. His eyes were quite dazzled; 
 but he had only opened them too wide just when he awoke 
 out of his sleep. With one leap he was out of bed; quite 
 quietly he crept behind the curtain; but the maiden was 
 gone, the splendor was gone, the flowers gleamed no longer, 
 but stood there as beautiful as ever. The door was ajar, 
 and from within sounded music, so lovely, so charming, 
 that one fell into sweet thought at the sound. It was just 
 like magic work. 
 
 But who lived there? Where was the real entrance? for 
 toward the street and toward the lane at the side the whole 
 ground floor was shop by shop, and the people could not 
 always run through there. 
 
366 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 One evening the stranger sat upon his balcony; in the 
 room just behind him a Hght was burning, and so it was 
 quite natural that his Shadow fell upon the wall of the op- 
 posite house; yes, it sat just among the flowers on the 
 balcony, and when the stranger moved his Shadow moved, 
 too. 
 
 "I think my Shadow is the only living thing we see yon- 
 der," said the learned man. "Look how gracefully it sits 
 among the flowers. The door is only ajar, but the Shadow 
 ought to be sensible enough to walk in and look round, and 
 then come back and tell me what it has seen." 
 
 "Yes, you would thus make yourself very useful," said 
 he, as if in sport. "Be so good as to slip in. Now, will 
 you go?" And then he nodded at the Shadow, and the 
 Shadow nodded back at him. "Now go, but don't stay away 
 altogether.'' 
 
 And the stranger stood up, and the Shadow on the bal- 
 cony opposite stood up, too, and the stranger moved round, 
 and if anyone had noticed closely he would have remarked 
 how the Shadow went away in the same moment, straight 
 through the half-opened door of the opposite house, as the 
 stranger returned to his room and let the curtain fall. 
 
 Next morning the learned man went out to drink cofifee 
 and read the papers. 
 
 "What is this?" said he, when he came out into the sun- 
 shine. "I have no Shadow! So it really went away yester- 
 day evening, and did not come back; that's very tiresome." 
 
 And that fretted him, but not so much because the 
 Shadow was gone as because he knew that there was a 
 story of a man without a shadow. All the people in the 
 house knew this story, and if the learned man came home 
 and told his own history, they would say that it was only an 
 imitation, and he did not choose them to say that of him. 
 So he would not speak of it at all, and that was a very sensi- 
 ble idea of his. 
 
 In the evening he again went out on his balcony ; he had 
 placed the light behind him, for he knew that a shadow 
 always wants its master for a screen, but he could not coax 
 it forth. He made himself little, he made himself long, but 
 there was no shadow, and no shadow came. He said, 
 "Here, here!" but that did no good. 
 
 That was vexatious, but in the warm countries all things 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 367 
 
 grow very quickly, and after the lapse of a week he re- 
 marked to his great joy that a new shadow was growing 
 out of his legs when he went into the sunshine, so that the 
 root must have remained behind. After three weeks he had 
 quite a respectable shadow, which, when he started on his 
 return to the North, grew more and more, so that at last it 
 was so long and great that lie could very well have parted 
 with half of it. 
 
 When the learned man got home he wrote books about 
 what is true in the world, and what is good, and what is 
 pretty; and days went by, and years went by, many years. 
 
 He was one evening sitting in his room when there came 
 a little quiet knock at the door. "Come in!" said he; but 
 nobody came. Then he opened the door, and there stood 
 before him such a remarkably thin man that he felt quite un- 
 comfortable. This man was, however, very respectably 
 dressed; he looked like a man of standing. 
 
 "Whom have I the honor to address?" asked the profes- 
 sor. 
 
 "Ah!" replied the genteel man, "I thought you would not 
 know me; I have become so much a body that I have got 
 real flesh and clothes. You never thought to see me in such 
 a condition. Don't you know your old Shadow? You cer- 
 tainly never thought I would come again. Things have 
 gone remarkably well with me since I was with you last. 
 I've become rich in every respect; if I want to buy myself 
 free from servitude, I can do it !" 
 
 And he rattled a number of valuable charm_s, which hung 
 by his watch, and put his hand upon the thick gold chain 
 which he wore round his neck; and how the diamond rings 
 glittered on his fingers ! and everything was real ! 
 
 "No, I cannot regain my self-possession at all!" said the 
 learned man. "What's the meaning of all this?" 
 
 "Nothing common," said the Shadow. "But you your- 
 self don't belong to common folks; and I have, as you very 
 well know, trodden in your footsteps from my childhood 
 upward. So soon as I found that I was experienced enough 
 to find my way through the world alone, I went away. I am 
 in the most brilliant circumstances; but I was seized with a 
 kind of longing to see you once more before you die, and I 
 wanted to see these regions once more, for one always holds 
 by one's fatherland. I know that you have got another 
 
368 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 shadow; have I anything to pay to it, or to you? You have 
 only to tell me." 
 
 "Is it really you?" said the learned man. "Why, this is 
 wonderful! I should never have thought that I should 
 ever meet my old shadow as a man!" 
 
 "Only tell me what I have to pay," said the Shadow, "for 
 I don't like to be in anyone's debt." 
 
 "How can you talk in that way?" said the learned man. 
 "Of what debt can there be a question here? You are as 
 free as anyone. I am exceedingly pleased at your good 
 fortune. Sit down, old friend, and tell me a little how it has 
 happened, and what you saw in the warm countries, and in 
 the house opposite ours." 
 
 "Yes, that I will tell you," said the Shadow; and it sat 
 down. "But then you must promise me never to tell anyone 
 in this town, when you meet me, that I have been your 
 shadow. I have the intention of engaging myself to be 
 married; I can do more than support a fam.ily." 
 
 "Be quite easy," replied the learned man; "I will tell no- 
 body who you really are. Here's my hand. I promise it, 
 and my word's as good as my bond." 
 
 "A Shadow's word in return!" said the Shadow, for he 
 was obliged to talk in that way. But, by the way, it was 
 quite wonderful how complete a man he had become. He 
 was dressed all in black, and wore the very finest black 
 cloth, polished boots, and a hat that could be crushed to- 
 gether till it was nothing but crov^m and rim, besides what 
 we have already noticed of him, namely, the charms, the 
 gold neck-chain, and the diamond rings. The Shadow was 
 indeed wonderfully well clothed; and it was just this that 
 made a complete man of him. 
 
 "Now I will tell you," said the Shadow; and then he put 
 dovvn his polished boots as firmly as he could on the arm of 
 the learned man's new shadow, that lay like a poodle dog at 
 his feet. This was done perhaps from pride, perhaps so 
 that the new shadow might stick to his feet; but the pros- 
 trate shadow remained quite quiet, so that it might listen 
 well, for it wanted to know how one could get free and work 
 up to be one's own master. 
 
 "Do you know who lived in the house opposite to us?" 
 asked the Shadow. "That was the most glorious of all; it 
 was Poetry! I was there for three weeks, and that was just 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 369 
 
 as if one had lived there a thousand years, and could read 
 all that has been written and composed. For this I say, 
 and it is truth, I have seen everything, and I know every- 
 thing!" 
 
 "Poetry!" cried the learned man. "Yes, she often lives 
 as a hermit in great cities. Poetry? Yes, I myself saw her 
 for one single brief mqment, but sleep was heavy on my 
 eyes; she stood on the balcony, gleaming as the Northern 
 Light gleams, flowers with living flames. Tell me! tell 
 me! You were upon the balcony. You went through the 
 door, and then " 
 
 "Then I was in the anteroom," said the Shadow. "You 
 sat opposite, and were always looking across at the ante- 
 room. There was no light; a kind of semi-obscurity 
 reigned there; but one door after another in a whole row 
 of halls and rooms stood open, and there it was light; and 
 the mass of light would have killed me if I had got as far 
 as to where the maiden sat. But I was deliberate, I took 
 my time; and that's what one must do." 
 
 "And what didst thou see then?" asked the learned man. 
 
 "I saw everything, and I will tell you what; but — it is 
 really not pride on my part — as a free man, and with the 
 acquirements I possess, besides my good position and my 
 remarkable fortune, I wish you would say you to me." 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said the learned man. "This thou is 
 an old habit, and old habits are difficult to alter. You are 
 perfectly right, and I will remember it. But now tell me 
 everything you saw." 
 
 "Everything," said the Shadow; "for I saw everything, 
 and I know everything." 
 
 "How did things look in the inner room?" asked the 
 learned man. "Was it there as in a cool grave? Was it 
 there like as in a holy temple? Were the chambers like the 
 starry sky, when one stands on the high mountains?" 
 
 "Everything was there," said the Shadow. "I was cer- 
 tainly not quite inside ; I remained in the front room, in the 
 half-darkness; but I stood there remarkably well. I saw 
 everything and know everything. I have been in the ante- 
 room at the Court of Poetry." 
 
 "But what did you see? Did all the gods of antiquity 
 march through the halls? Did the old heroes fight there? 
 Did lovely children play there, and relate their dreams?" 
 
 24 
 
270 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "I tell you that I have been there, and so you will easily 
 understand that I saw everything that was to be seen. If 
 you had got there you would not have remained a man ; but 
 I became one, and at the same time I learned to understand 
 my inner being and the relation in which T stood to Poetry. 
 Yes, when I was with you I did not think of these things; 
 but you know that whenever the sun rises or sets I am won- 
 derfully great. In the moonshine I was almost more notice- 
 able than you yourself. I did not then understand my in- 
 ward being; in the anteroom it was revealed to me. I be- 
 came a man ! I came out ripe. But you were no longer in 
 the warm countries. I was ashamed to go about as a man 
 in the state I was then in; I required boots, clothes, and all 
 the human varnish by which a man is known. I hid my- 
 self; yes, I can confide a secret to you — you will not put it 
 into a book. I hid myself under the cake-woman's gown; 
 the woman had no idea how much she concealed. Only in 
 the evening did I go out; I ran about the streets by moon- 
 light; I stretched myself quite long up the wall; that tickled 
 my back quite agreeably. I ran up and down, looked 
 through the highest windows into the halls and through the 
 roof, where nobody could see, and I saw what nobody saw 
 and what nobody ought to see. On the whole it is a bad 
 world ; I should not like to be a man if I were not allowed to 
 be of some consequence. I saw the most incomprehensible 
 things going on among men, and women, and parents, and 
 'dear incomparable children.' I saw what no one else knows, 
 but what they all would be very glad to know, namely, bad 
 goings-on at their neighbors'. If I had written a news- 
 paper, how it would have been read! But I wrote directly 
 to the persons interested, and there was terror in every town 
 to which I came. They were so afraid of me that they were 
 remarkably fond of me. The professor made me a profes- 
 sor; the tailor gave me new clothes (I am well provided); 
 the coining superintendent coined money for me; the wo- 
 men declared I was handsome, and thus I became the man 
 I am. And now, farewell! Here is my card; I live on the 
 sunny side, and am always at home in rainy weather." 
 
 And the shadow went away. 
 
 "That was very remarkable,'' said the learned man. 
 
 Years and days passed by and the shadow came again. 
 
 "How goes it?" he asked. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 371 
 
 "Ah!" said the learned man, "I'm writing about the true, 
 the good, and the beautiful; but nobody cares to hear of any- 
 thing of the kind; I am quite in despair, for I take that to 
 heart." 
 
 "That I do not," said the Shadow. "I'm becoming fat and 
 hearty, and that's what one must try to become. You don't 
 understand the world, and you're getting ill. You must 
 travel. I'll make a journey this summer; will you go too? I 
 should like to have a traveling companion ; will you go with 
 me as my shadow? I shall be very happy to take you, and 
 I'll pay the expenses." 
 
 "I suppose you travel very far?" said the learned man. 
 
 "As you take it," replied the Shadow. "A journey will do 
 you a great deal of good. Will you be my shadow? — then 
 you shall have everything on the journey for nothing." 
 
 "That's too strong!" said the learned man. 
 
 "But it's the way of the world," said the Shadow, "and so 
 it will remain." And he went away. 
 
 The learned man was not at all fortunate. Sorrow and 
 care pursued him, and what he said of the true and the good 
 and the beautiful was as little valued by most people as a 
 nutmeg would be by a cow. At last he became quite ill. 
 
 "You really look like a shadow!" people said; and a shud- 
 der ran through him at these words, for he attached a pe- 
 culiar meaning to them. 
 
 "You must go to a watering-place!" said the Shadow, who 
 came to pay him a visit. "There's no other help for you. 
 I'll take you with me for the sake of old acquaintance. I'll 
 pay the expenses of the journey, and you shall make a de- 
 scription of it, and shorten time for me on the way. I want 
 to visit a watering-place. My beard doesn't grow quite as it 
 should, and that is a kind of illness; and a beard I must have. 
 Now be reasonable and accept my proposal; we shall travel 
 like comrades." 
 
 And they traveled. The Shadow was master now, and 
 the master was shadow; they drove together, they rode to- 
 gether, and walked side by side, and before and behind each 
 other just as the sun happened to stand. The Shadow al- 
 ways knew when to take the place of honor. The learned 
 man did not particularly notice this, for he had a very gooci 
 heart, and was moreover particularly mild and friendly. 
 Then one day the master said to the Shadow: 
 
372 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "As we have in this way become travehng companions, 
 and have also from childhood's days grown up with one an- 
 other, shall we not drink brotherhood? That sounds more 
 confidential." 
 
 "You're saying a thing there," said the Shadow, who was 
 now really the master, "that is said in a very kind and 
 straightforward way. I will be just as kind and straightfor- 
 ward. You who are a learned gentleman, know very well how 
 wonderful nature is. There are some men who cannot bear 
 to smell brown paper, they become sick at it; others shud- 
 der to the marrow of the bones if one scratches wi,th a nail 
 upon a pane of glass ; and I for my part have a similar feel- 
 ing when anyone says 'thou' to me ; I feel myself, as I did in 
 my first position with you, oppressed by it. You see that 
 this is a feeling, not pride. I cannot let you say 'thou'* to 
 me, but I will gladly say 'thou' to you; and thus your wish 
 will be at any rate partly fulfilled." 
 
 And now the Shadow addressed his former master as 
 "thou." 
 
 "That's rather strong," said the latter, ''that I am to say 
 'you,' while he says 'thou.' " But he was obliged to submit 
 to it. 
 
 They came to a bathing-place, where many strangers 
 were, and among them a beautiful young Princess, who had 
 this disease, that she saw too sharply, which was very dis- 
 quieting. She at once saw that the new arrival was a very 
 different personage from all the rest. 
 
 "They say he is here to get his beard to grow; but I see 
 the real reason — he can't throw a shadow.'' 
 
 She had now become inquisitive, and therefore she at once 
 began a conversation with the strange gentleman on the 
 promenade. As a Princess, she was not obliged to use 
 much ceremony, therefore she said outright to him at once: 
 
 "Your illness consists in this, that you can't throw a 
 shadow." 
 
 "Your Royal Highness must be much better," replied the 
 Shadow. "I know your illness consists in this, that you see 
 too sharply; but you have got the better of that. I have a 
 
 *0n the Continent, people who have drunk "brotherhood" ad- 
 dress each other as "thou," in preference to the more ceremoni- 
 ous "you." 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 373 
 
 very unusual shadow; don't you see the person who always 
 accompanies me? Other people have a common shadow, 
 but I don't love what is common. One often gives one's 
 servants finer cloth for their liveries than one wears oneself, 
 and so I have let my shadow deck himself out like a separate 
 person ; yes, you see I have often given him a shadow of his 
 own. That costs very much, but I like to have something 
 peculiar." 
 
 "How!" said the Princess, "can I really have been cured? 
 This is the best bathing-place in existence; water has won- 
 derful power nowadays. But I'm not going away from 
 here yet, for now it begins to be amusing. The foreign 
 Prince — for he must be a Prince — pleases me remarkably 
 well. I only hope his beard won't grow, for if it does he'll 
 go away." 
 
 That evening the Princess and the Shadow danced to- 
 gether in the great ball-rooni. She was light, but he was 
 still lighter; never had she se>> . such a dancer. She told him 
 from what country she ca .^c, and he knew the country — he 
 had been there, but just when she had been absent. He 
 had looked through the windows of her castle, from below 
 as well as from above; he had learned many circumstances, 
 and could therefore make allusions, and give replies to the 
 Princess, at which she marveled greatly. She thought he 
 must be the cleverest man in all the world, and was inspired 
 with great respect for all his knowledge. And when she 
 danced with him again, she fell in love with him, and the 
 Shadow noticed that particularly, for she looked him almost 
 through and through with her eyes. They danced together 
 once more, and she was nearly telling him, but she was dis- 
 creet; she thought of her country, and her kingdom, and of 
 the many people over whom she was to rule. 
 
 "He is a clever man," she said to herself, "and that is 
 well, and he dances capitally, and that is well, too; but has 
 he well-grounded knowledge? That is just as important, 
 and he must be examined." 
 
 And she immediately put such a difificult question to him, 
 that she could not have answered it herself; and the Shadow 
 made a wry face. 
 
 "You cannot answer me that," said the Princess. 
 
 "I learned that in my childhood," replied the Shadow, 
 
874 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "and I believe my very shadow, standing yonder by the 
 door, could answer it." 
 
 "Your shadow!'' cried the Princess; "that would be very 
 remarkable." 
 
 "I do not assert as quite certain that he can do so," said 
 the Shadow, "but I am almost inclined to believe it. But 
 your Royal Highness will allow me to remind you that he is 
 so proud of passing for a man, that, if he is in a good humor, 
 and he should be able to answer rightly, he must be treated 
 just like a man." 
 
 "I like that," said the Princess. 
 
 And now she went to the learned man at the door; and 
 she spoke with him of sun and moon, of the green forests, 
 and of people near and far ofif; and the learned man ans- 
 wered very cleverly and very well. 
 
 "What a man that must be, who has such a clever shad- 
 ow!" she thought. "It would be a real blessing for my 
 country and for my people if I chose him; and I'll do it!" 
 
 And they soon struck a bargain — the Princess and the 
 Shadow; but no one was to know anything of it till she had 
 returned to her kingdom. 
 
 "No one — not even my shadow,'' said the Shadow; and 
 for this he had especial reasons. 
 
 And they came to the country where the Princess ruled, 
 and where was her home. 
 
 "Listen, my friend," said the Shadow to the learned man. 
 "Now I am as lucky and powerful as anyone can become. 
 I'll do something particular for you. You shall live with me 
 in my palace, drive with me in the royal carriage, and have a 
 hundred thousand dollars a year; but you must let yourself 
 be called a shadow by everyone, and may never say that you 
 were once a man; and once a year, when I sit on the bal- 
 cony and show myself, you must lie at my feet as it be- 
 comes my shadow to do. For I tell you I'm going to 
 marry the Princess, and this evening the wedding will be 
 held." 
 
 "Now, that's too strong!" said the learned man. "I won't 
 do it; I won't have it. That would be cheating the whole 
 country and the Princess too. I'll tell everything — that I'm 
 the man and you are the Shadow, and that you only wear 
 men's clothes." 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 375 
 
 "No one would believe that," said the Shadow. "Be rea- 
 sonable, or I'll call the watch." 
 
 "I'll go straight to the Princess," said the learned man. 
 
 "But I'll go lirst," said the Shadow; "and you shall go to 
 prison." 
 
 And that was so; for the sentinels obeyed him of whom 
 they knew that he was to marry the Princess. 
 
 "You tremble," said the Princess, when the Shadow came 
 to her. "Has anything happened? You must not be ill to- 
 day, when we are to have a wedding." 
 
 "I have experienced the most terrible thing that can hap- 
 pen," said the Shadow. "Only think! — such a poor shallow 
 brain cannot bear much — only think! — my shadow has gone 
 mad; he fancies he has become a man, and — only think! — 
 that I am his shadow." 
 
 "This is terrible!" said the Princess. "He's locked up, I 
 hope?" 
 
 "Certainly. I'm afraid he will never recover." 
 
 "Poor shadow!" cried the Princess, "he's very unfortu- 
 nate. It would really be a good action to deliver him from 
 his little bit of life. And when I think how prone the peo- 
 ple are, nowadays, to take the part of the low against the 
 high, it seems to me quite necessary to put him quietly out 
 of the way." 
 
 "That's certainly very hard, for he was a faithful servant," 
 said the Shadow; and he pretended to sigh. 
 
 "You're a noble character," said the Princess, and she 
 bowed before him. 
 
 In the evening the whole town was illuminated, and can- 
 non were fired — bang! — and the soldiers presented arms. 
 That was a wedding! The Princess and the Shadow stepped 
 out on the balcony to show themselves and receive another 
 cheer. 
 
 The learned man heard nothing of all this festivity, for he 
 had already been executed. 
 
376 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 THE ANGEL. 
 
 Whenever a good child dies, an angel from heaven comes 
 down to earth, and takes the dead child in his arms, spreads 
 out his great white wings, and flies away over all the places 
 the child has loved, and picks quite a hand-full of flowers, 
 which he carries up to the Almighty, that they may bloom 
 in heaven more brightly than on earth. And the Father 
 presses all the flowers to His heart; but He kisses the flower 
 that pleases Him best, and the flower is then endowed with 
 a voice, and can join in the great chorus of praise! 
 
 "See" — this is what an angel said, as he carried a dead 
 child up to heaven, and the child heard, as if in a dream, and 
 they went on over the regions of home where the little child 
 had played, and they came through gardens with beautiful 
 flowers — "which of these shall we take with us to plant in 
 heaven?" asked the angel. 
 
 Now there stood near them a slender, beautiful rose bush; 
 but a wicked hand had broken the stem, so that all the 
 branches, covered with half-opened buds, were hanging 
 drooping around, quite withered. 
 
 "The poor rose bush!" said the child. "Take it, that it 
 may bloom up yonder." 
 
 And the angel took it, and kissed the child, and the little 
 one half opened his eyes. They plucked some of the rich 
 flowers, but also took with them the despised buttercup and 
 the wild pansy. 
 
 "Now we have flowers," said the child. 
 
 And the angel nodded, but he did not yet fly upward to 
 heaven. It was night and quite silent. They remained in 
 the great city; they floated about there in a small street, 
 where lay whole heaps of straw, ashes, and sweepings, for it 
 had been removal-day. There lay fragments of plates, bits 
 of plaster, rags, and old hats, and all this did not look well. 
 And the angel pointed amid all this confusion to a few 
 fragments of a flower-pot, and to a lump of earth which had 
 fallen out, and which was kept together by the roots of a 
 great dried field flower, which was of no use, and had there- 
 fore been thrown out into the street. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 377 
 
 "We will take that with us," said the angel. "I will tell 
 you why, as we fly onward." 
 
 "Down yonder in the narrow lane, in the low cellar, lived 
 a poor sick boy; from his childhood he had been bedridden. 
 When he was at his best he could go up and down the room 
 a few times, leaning on crutches; that was the utmost he 
 could do. For a few days in summer the sunbeams would 
 penetrate for a few hours to the ground of the cellar, and 
 when the poor boy sat there and the sun shone on him, and 
 he looked at the red blood in his three fingers, as he held 
 them up before his face, he would say, 'Yes, to-day he has 
 been out.' He knew the forest with its beautiful vernal 
 green only from the fact that the neighbor's son brought him 
 the first green branch of a beech tree, and he held that up 
 over his head, and dreamed he was in the beech wood where 
 the sun shone and the birds sang. On a spring day the 
 neighbor's boy also brought him field flowers, and among 
 these was, by chance, one to which the root was hanging; 
 and so it was planted in a flower-pot, and placed by the bed, 
 close to the window. And the flower had been planted by a 
 fortunate hand ; and it grew, threw out new shoots, and bore 
 flowers every year. It became as a splendid flower garden to 
 the sickly boy — his little treasure here on earth. He watered 
 it, and tended it, and took care that it had the benefit of every 
 ray of sunlight, down to the last that struggled in through 
 the narrow window; and the flower itself was woven into his 
 dreams, for it grew for him and gladdened his eyes, and 
 spread its fragrance about him; and toward it he turned in 
 death when the Father called him. He has now been with 
 the Almighty for a year; for a year the flower has stood 
 forgotten in the window, and is withered; and thus, at the 
 removal, it has been thrown out into the dust of the street. 
 And this is the flower, the poor withered flower, which we 
 have taken into our nosegay; for this flower has given more 
 joy than the richest flower in a Queen's garden." 
 
 "But how do you know all this?" asked the child which 
 the angel was carrying to heaven. 
 
 "I know it," said the angel, "for I myself was that little 
 boy who walked on crutches! I know my flower well!" 
 
 And the child opened his eyes and looked into the glori- 
 ous, happy face of the angel; and at the same moment'they 
 entered the regions where there is peace and joy. And the 
 
378 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 Father pressed the dead child to His bosom, and then it re- 
 ceived wings like the angel, and flew hand in hand with him. 
 And the Almighty pressed all the flowers to His heart; but 
 He kissed the dry withered field flower, and it received a 
 voice and sang with all the angels hovering around — some 
 near, and some in wider circles, and some in infinite distance, 
 but all equally happy. And they all sang, little and great, 
 the good, happy child, and the poor field flower that had 
 lain there withered, thrown among the dust, in the rubbish 
 of the removal-day, in the narrow dark lane. 
 
 TWELVE BY THE MAIL 
 
 It was bitterly cold! the sky gleamed with stars, and not a 
 breeze was stirring. 
 
 Bump! an old pot was thrown at the neighbor's house 
 door. Bang! bang went the gun, for they were welcoming 
 the New Year. It was New Year's Eve ! The church clock 
 was striking twelve. 
 
 Tan-ta-ra-ra ! the mail came lumbering up. The great 
 carriage stopped at the gate of the town. There were twelve 
 persons in it; all the places were taken. 
 
 "Hurrah! hurrah!" sang the people in the houses of the 
 town, for the New Year was being welcomed, and as the 
 clock struck they stood up with the filled glass in their hand, 
 to drink success to the new comer. 
 
 "Happy New Year!" was the cry. "A pretty wife, plenty 
 of money, and no sorrow or care!" 
 
 This wish was passed round, and then glasses were 
 clashed together till they rang again, and in front of the 
 town gate the post-carriage stopped with the strange guests, 
 the twelve travelers. 
 
 And who were these strangers? Each of them had his 
 passport and his luggage with him ; they even brought pres- 
 ents for me and for you, and for all the people of the little 
 town. Who are they? What did they want? and what did 
 they bring with them? 
 
 "Good-morning!" they cried to the sentry at the .town 
 gate. 
 
 "Good-morning!" replied the sentry, for the clock struck 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 379 
 
 twelve. "Your name and profession?" the sentry inquired 
 of the one who alighted first from the carriage. 
 
 "See yourself, in the passport," replied the man. "I am 
 myself!" And a capital fellow he looked, arrayed in a bear 
 skin and fur boots. "I am the man on whom many persons 
 fix their hopes. Come to me to-morrow, and I'll give you a 
 New Year's present. I throw pence and dollars among the 
 people, I even give balls, thirty-one balls; but I cannot de- 
 vote more than thirty-one nights to this. My ships are frozen 
 in, but in my office it is warm and comfortable. I'm a mer- 
 chant. My name is January, and I only carry accounts 
 with me." 
 
 Now the second alighted. He was a merry companion; 
 he was a theater director, manager of masque balls, and all 
 the amusements one can imagine. His luggage consisted of 
 a great tub. 
 
 "We'll dance the cat out of the tub at carnival time," said 
 he. "I'll prepare a merry tune for you and for myself, too. I 
 have not a very long time to live — the shortest, in fact, of 
 my whole family, for I only become twenty-eight days old. 
 Sometimes they pop me in an extra day, but I trouble my- 
 self very little about that. Hurrah !" 
 
 "You must not shout so !" said the sentry. 
 
 "Certainly, I may shout !" retorted the man. "I'm Prince 
 Carnival, traveling under the name of February." 
 
 The third now got out. He looked like Fasting itself, but 
 carried his nose very high, for he was related to the "Forty 
 Knights," and was a weather prophet. But that's not a pro- 
 fitable office, and that's why he praised fasting. In his 
 buttonhole he had a little bunch of violets, but they were 
 very small. 
 
 "March ! March !" the fourth called after him, and slapped 
 him on the shoulder. "Do you smell nothing? Go quickly 
 into the guard room; there they're drinking punch, your 
 favorite drink! I can smell it already out here. Forward, 
 Master March!" 
 
 But it was not true; the speaker only wanted to let him 
 feel the influence of his own name, and make an April fool of 
 him; for with that the fourth began his career in the town. 
 He looked very jovial, did little work, but had the more holi- 
 days. 
 
 "If it were only a little more steady in the world!" said 
 
S80 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 he; "but sometimes one is in a good humor, sometimes in a 
 bad one, according to circumstances; now rain, now sun- 
 shine. I am a kind of house and ofhce-letting agent, also a 
 manager of funerals. I can laugh or cry, according to cir- 
 cumstances. Here in this box I have my summer wardrobe, 
 but it would be very foolish to put it on. Here I am now ! 
 On Sundays I go out walking in shoes and silk stockings, 
 and with a muff!" 
 
 After him a lady came out of the carriage. She called 
 herself Miss May. She wore a summer costume and over- 
 shoes, a light green dress, and anemones in her hair, and she 
 was so scented with wild thyme that the sentry had to 
 sneeze. 
 
 "God bless you! God bless you!" she said, and that was 
 her salutation. 
 
 How pretty she was! and she was a singer, not a theater 
 singer nor a ballad singer, but a singer of the woods, as she 
 roamed through the gay green forest, and sang there for her 
 own amusement. 
 
 "Now comes the young dame!" said those who were still 
 in the carriage. 
 
 And the young dame stepped out, delicate, proud, and 
 pretty. It was easy to see that she was Mistress June, ac- 
 customed to be served by drowsy marmots. She gave a 
 great feast on the longest day of the year, that the guests 
 might have time to partake of the many dishes at her table. 
 She, indeed, kept her own carriage; but still she traveled in 
 the mail with the rest, because she wanted to show that she 
 was not high-minded. But she was not without protection; 
 her elder brother July was with her. 
 
 He was a plump young fellow, clad in summer garments, 
 with a Panama hat. He had but little baggage with him, 
 because it was cumbersome in the great heat; therefore he 
 had only provided himself with swimming trousers, and 
 those are not much. 
 
 Then came the mother herself, Madam August, whole- 
 sale dealer in fruit, proprietress of a large number of fish- 
 ponds, and land cultivator, in a great crinoline ; she was fat 
 and hot, could use her hands well, and would herself carry 
 out beer to the workmen in the fields. 
 
 "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread," she said; 
 "that is written in the Book. Afterward come the excur- 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 381 
 
 sions, dance and playing in the greenwood, and the harvest 
 feasts r 
 
 She was a thorough housewife. 
 
 After her, a man came out of the coach, a painter, Mr. 
 ■Master-colorer September, The forest had to receive him; 
 the leaves were to change their colors, but how beautifully! 
 when he wished it; soon the wood gleamed with red, yellow, 
 and brown. The master whistled like the black magpie, 
 was a quick workman, and wound the brown-green hop 
 plants round his beer-jug. That was an ornament for the 
 jug, and he had a good idea of ornament. There he stood 
 with his color-pot, and that was his whole luggage. 
 
 A landed proprietor followed him, one who cared for the 
 plowing and preparing of the land, and also for field sports. 
 Squire October brought his dog and his gun with him, and 
 had nuts in his game-bag. "Crack! crack!" He had 
 much baggage, even an English plow; and he spoke of farm- 
 ing, but one could scarcely hear what he said, for the cough- 
 ing and gasping of his neighbor. 
 
 It was November who coughed so violently as he got out. 
 He was very much plagued by a cold; he was continually 
 having recourse to his pocket-handkerchief, and yet, he said, 
 he was obliged to accompany the servant-girls, and initiate 
 them into their new winter service. He said he should get 
 rid of his cold when he went out wood-cutting, and had to 
 saw and split wood, for he was sawyer-master to the fire- 
 wood guild. He spent his evenings cutting the wooden 
 soles for skates, for he knew, he said, that in a few weeks 
 there would be occasion to use these amusing shoes. 
 
 At length appeared the last passenger, old Mother De- 
 cember, with her fire-stool. The old lady was cold, but her 
 eyes glistened like two bright stars. She carried on her arm 
 a flower-pot, in which a little fir tree was growing. 
 
 "This tree I will guard and cherish, that it may grow large 
 by Christmas Eve, and may reach from the ground to the 
 ceiling, and may rear itself upward with flaming candles, 
 golden apples, and little carved figures. The fire-stool 
 warms like a stove. I bring the story book out of my pocket 
 and read aloud, so that all the children in the room become 
 quite quiet; but the little figures on the trees become lively, 
 and the little waxen angel on the top spreads out his wings 
 of gold leaf, flies down from his green perch, and kisses 
 
382 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 great and small in the room, yes, even the poor children who 
 stand out in the passage and in the street, singing the carol 
 about the Star of Bethlehem." 
 
 "Well, now the coach may drive away," said the sentry; 
 "we have the whole twelve. Let the chaise drive up." 
 
 "First let all the twelve come in to me," said the captain 
 on duty, "one after the other. The passports I will keep 
 here. Each of them is available for a month ; when that has 
 passed, I shall write their behavior on each passport. Mr. 
 January, have the goodness to come here." 
 
 And Mr. January stepped forward. 
 
 "When a year is passed I think I shall be able to tell you 
 what the twelve have brought to me, and to you, and to all 
 of us. Now I do not know it, and they don't know it them- 
 selves, probably, for we live in strange times." 
 
 WHAT THE MOON SAW. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 It is a strange thing, that when I feel most fervently and 
 most deeply, my hands and my tongue seem alike tired, so 
 that I cannot rightly describe or accurately portray the 
 thoughts that are rising within me; and yet I am a painter; 
 my eye tells me as much as that, and all my friends who 
 have seen my sketches and fancies say the same. 
 
 I am a poor lad, and live in one of the narrowest of lanes; 
 but I do not want for light, as my room is high up in the 
 house, with an extensive prospect over the neighboring 
 roofs. During the first few days I went to live in the town, 
 I felt low spirited and solitary enough. Instead of the forest 
 and the green hills of former days, I had here only a forest 
 of chimney-pots to look out upon. And then I had not a 
 single friend; not one familiar face greeted me. 
 
 So one evening I sat at the window, in a desponding 
 mood ; and presently I opened the casement and looked out. 
 Oh, how my heart leaped up with joy! Here was a well- 
 known face at last — a round, friendly countenance, the face 
 of a good friend I had known at home. In fact, it was the 
 Moon that looked in upon me. He was quite unchanged, 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 383 
 
 the dear old Moon, and had the same face exactly that he 
 used to show when he peered down upon me through the 
 willow trees on the moor. I kissed my hand to him over 
 and over again, as he shone far into my little room; and he, 
 for his part, promised me that every evening, when he came 
 abroad, he would look in upon me for a few moments. This 
 promise he has faithfully kept. It is a pity that he can only 
 stay such a short time when he comes. Whenever he ap- 
 pears, he tells me of one thing or another that he has seen 
 on the previous night or on that same evening. 
 
 "Just paint the scenes I describe to you" — that is what 
 he said to me — "and you will have a very pretty picture- 
 book." 
 
 I have followed his injunction for many evenings. I could 
 make up a new "Thousand and One Nights" in my own way 
 out of these pictures, but the number might be too great, 
 after all. The pictures I have here given have not been 
 chosen at random, but follow in their proper order, just as 
 they were described to me. Some great gifted painter, or 
 some poet or musician, may make something more of them 
 if he likes; what I have given here are only hasty sketches, 
 hurriedly put upon the paper, with some of my own 
 thoughts interspersed; for the Moon did not come to me 
 every evening — a cloud sometimes hid his face from me. 
 
 FIRST EVENING. 
 
 "Last night" — I am quoting the Moon's own words — 
 "last night I was gliding through the cloudless Indian sky. 
 My face was mirrored in the waters of the Ganges, and my 
 beams strove to pierce through the thick intertwining 
 boughs of the bananas, arching beneath me like the tortoise's 
 shell. Forth from the thicket tripped a Hindoo maid, light 
 as a gazelle, beautiful as Eve. Airy and ethereal as a vision, 
 and yet sharply defined amid the surrounding shadows, 
 stood this daughter of Hindostan; I could read on her deli- 
 cate brow the thought that had brought her thither. The 
 thorny creeping plants tore her sandals, but for all that she 
 came rapidly forward. The deer that had come down to the 
 river to quench her thirst, sprang by with a startled bound, 
 for in her hand the maiden bore a lighted lamp. I could see 
 
S84 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 the blood in her dehcate finger-tips, as she spread them for a 
 screen before the dancing flame. She came down to the 
 stream, and set the lamp upon the water, and let it float 
 away. The flame flickered to and fro, and seemed ready to| 
 expire; but still the lamp burned on, and the girl's black 
 sparkling eyes, half veiled behind their long silken lashes, 
 followed it with a gaze of earnest intensity. She well knew 
 that if the lamp continued to burn so long as she could keep 
 it in sight, her betrothed was still alive ; but if the lamp was 
 suddenly extinguished, he was dead. And the lamp burned 
 bravely on, and she fell on her knees and prayed. Near her 
 in the grass lay a speckled snake, but she heeded it not — she 
 thought only of Bramah and of her betrothed. 
 
 "'He lives!' she shouted joyfully, 'he lives!' And from 
 the mountains the echo came back upon her, 'He lives!' " 
 
 SECOND EVENING. 
 
 "Yesterday," said the Moon to me, "I looked down upon 
 a small courtyard surrounded on all sides by houses. In the 
 courtyard sat a clucking hen with eleven chickens; and a 
 pretty little girl was running and jumping around them. 
 The hen was frightened, and screamed, and spread out her 
 wings over the little brood. Then the girl's father came out 
 and scolded her; and I glided away and thought no more of 
 the matter. 
 
 "But this evening, only a few minutes ago, I looked down 
 into the same courtyard. Everything was quiet. But pres- 
 ently the little girl came forth again, crept quietly to the hen- 
 house, pushed back the bolt, and slipped into the apartment 
 of the hen and chickens. They cried out loudly, and came 
 fluttering down from their perches, and ran about in dismay, 
 and the little girl ran after them. I saw it quite plainly, for 
 I looked through a hole in the hen-house wall. I was angry 
 with the willful child, and felt glad when her father came out 
 and scolded her more violently than yesterday, holding her 
 roughly by the arm; she held down her head, and her blue 
 eyes were full of large tears. 'What are you about here?' he 
 asked. She wept and said, 'I wanted to kiss the hen and beg 
 her pardon for frightening her yesterday; but I was afraid 
 to tell vou.' 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 385 
 
 "And the father kissed the innocent child's forehead, and I 
 kissed her on the mouth and eyes.'' 
 
 THIRD EVENING. 
 
 "In the narrow street round the corner yonder — it is so 
 narrow that my beams can only glide for a minute along the 
 walls of the house, but in that minute I see enough to learn 
 what the world is made of — in that narrow street I saw a 
 woman. Sixteen years ago that woman was a child, playing 
 in the garden of the old parsonage in the country! The 
 hedges of rose bushes were old, and the flowers were faded. 
 They straggled wild over the paths, and the ragged branches 
 grew up among the boughs of the apple trees; here and there 
 were a few roses still in bloom — not so fair as the queen of 
 flowers generally appears, but still they had color and scent, 
 too. The clergyman's little daughter appeared to me a far 
 lovelier rose, as she sat on her stool under the straggling 
 hedge, hugging and caressing her doll with the battered 
 pasteboard cheeks. 
 
 "Ten years afterward I saw her again. I beheld her in a 
 splendid ball-room ; she was the beautiful bride of a rich mer- 
 chant. I rejoiced at her happiness, and sought her on calm, 
 quiet evenings — ah, nobody thinks of my clear eye and silent 
 glance! Alas! my rose ran wild, like the rose bushes in the 
 garden of the parsonage. There are tragedies in everyday 
 life, and to-night I saw the last act of one. 
 
 "She was lying in bed in a house in that narrow street; 
 she was sick unto death, and the cruel landlord came up, and 
 tore away the thin coverlet, her only protection against the 
 cold. 'Get up!' said he, 'your face is enough to frighten 
 one. Get up and dress yourself. Give me money, or I'll 
 turn you out into the street! Quick — get up!' She ans- 
 wered, 'Alas! death is gnawing at my heart. Let me rest.' 
 But he forced her to get up and bathe her face, and he put a 
 wreath of roses in her hair; and he placed her in a chair at 
 the window, with a candle burning beside her, and went 
 away. 
 
 "I looked at her, and she was sitting motionless, with her 
 hands in her lap. The wind caught the open window and 
 shut it with a crash, so that a pane came clattering down in 
 
 25 
 
386 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 fragments; but still she never moved. The curtain caught 
 fire, and the flames played about her face; and then I saw 
 that she was dead. There at the window sat the dead woman, 
 preaching a sermon against sin — my poor faded rose out of 
 the parsonage garden!" 
 
 FOURTH EVENING. 
 
 "This evening I saw a German play acted,'' said the 
 Moon. "It was in a little town. A stable had been turned 
 into a theater; that is to say, the stable had been left standing, 
 and had been turned into private boxes, and all the timber 
 work had been covered with colored paper. A little iron 
 chandelier hung beneath the ceiling, and that it might be 
 made to disappear into the ceiling, as it does in great thea- 
 ters, when the ting-ting of the prompter's bell is heard, a 
 great inverted tub had been placed just above it. 
 
 "'Ting-ting!' and the little iron chandelier suddenly rose 
 at least half a yard and disappeared in the tub ; and that was 
 the sign that the play was going to begin. A young noble- 
 man and his lady, who happened to be passing through the 
 little town, were present at the performance, and conse- 
 quently the house was crowded. But under the chandelier 
 was a vacant space like a little crater; not a single soul sat 
 there, for the tallow was dropping, drip, drip ! I saw every- 
 thing, for it was so warm in there that every loophole had 
 been opened. The male and female servants stood outside, 
 peeping through the chinks, although a real policeman was 
 inside, threatening them with a stick. Close by the orches- 
 tra could be seen the noble young couple in two old arm- 
 chairs, which were usually occupied by his worship, the may- 
 or, and his lady; but these latter were obliged to-day to con- 
 tent themselves with wooden forms, just as if they had been 
 ordinary citizens; and the lady observed quietly to herself, 
 'One sees, now, that there is rank above rank;' and this inci- 
 dent gave an air of extra festivity to the whole proceedings. 
 The chandelier gave little leaps, the crowd got their knuckles 
 rapped, and I, the Moon, was present at the performance 
 from beginning to end," 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 387 
 
 FIFTH EVENING. 
 
 "Yesterday," began the Moon, "I looked down upon the 
 turmoil of Paris. My eye penetrated into an apartment of 
 the Louvre. An old grandmother, poorly clad — she be- 
 longed to the working class — was following one of the un- 
 der-servants into the great empty throne room, for this was 
 the apartment she wanted to see — that she was resolved to 
 see; it had cost her many a little sacrifice and many a coax- 
 ing word to penetrate thus far. She folded her thin hands, 
 and looked round with an air of reverence, as if she had been 
 in a church. 
 
 '"Here it was!' she said, 'here!' And she approached 
 the throne, from which hung the rich velvet, fringed with 
 gold lace. 'There,' she exclaimed, 'there!' and she knelt 
 and kissed the purple carpet. I think she was actually 
 weeping. 
 
 " 'But it was not this very velvet!' observed the footman, 
 and a smile played about his mouth. 
 
 " 'True, but it was this very place,' replied the woman, 
 'and it must have looked just Hke this.' 
 
 " 'It looked so, and yet it did not,' observed the man; 'the 
 windows were beaten in, and the doors were off their hinges, 
 and there Vv^as blood upon the floor.' 
 
 " 'But for all that you can say, my grandson died upon the 
 throne of France. Died!' mournfully rejDeated the old 
 woman. 
 
 "I do not think another word was spoken, and they soon 
 quitted the hall. The evening twilight faded, and my light 
 shone vividly upon the rich velvet that covered the throne of 
 France. 
 
 "Now, who do you think this poor woman was? Listen, 
 I will tell you a story. 
 
 "It happened in the Revolution of July, on the evening of 
 the most brilliantly victorious day, when every house was a 
 fortress, every window a breastwork. The people stormed 
 the Tuileries. Even women and children were found among 
 the combatants. They penetrated into the apartments and 
 halls of the palace. A poor half-grown boy in a ragged 
 blouse fought among the older insurgents. Mortally wound- 
 ed with several bayonet thrusts, he sank down. This hap- 
 
388 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 pened in the throne room. .They laid the bleeding youth 
 upon the throne of France, wrapped the velvet round his 
 wounds, and his blood streamed forth on the imperial pur- 
 ple. There was a picture! — the splendid hall, the fighting 
 groups! A torn flag lay upon the ground, the tricolor was 
 waving above the bayonets, and on the throne lay the poor 
 lad with the pale, glorified countenance, his eyes turned 
 toward the sky, his limbs writhing in the death agony, his 
 breast bare, and his poor tattered clothing half hidden by 
 the rich velvet embroidered with silver lilies. At the boy's 
 cradle a prophecy had been spoken: 'He will die on the 
 throne of France!' The mother's heart had fondly imag- 
 ined a second Napoleon. 
 
 "'My beams have kissed the wreath of immortelles on his 
 grave, and this night they kissed the forehead of the old 
 grandame, while in a dream the picture floated before her 
 which thou mayst draw — the poor boy on the throne of 
 France." 
 
 SIXTH EVENING, 
 
 "I've been in Upsala," said the Moon; "I looked down 
 upon the great plain covered with coarse grass, and upon 
 the barren fi.elds. I mirrored my face in the Tyris river, 
 while the steamboat drove the fish into the rushes. Be- 
 neath me floated the waves, throwing long shadows on the 
 so-called graves of Odin, Thor, and Friga. In the scanty 
 turf that covers the hillside, names have been cut.* There 
 is no monument here, no memorial on which the traveler 
 can have his name carved, no rocky wall on whose surface 
 he can get it painted; so visitors have the turf cut away for 
 that purpose. The naked earth peers through in the form of 
 great letters and names; these form a network over the 
 whole hill. Here is an immortality, which lasts till the fresh 
 turf grows ! 
 
 "Up on the hill, stood a man, a poet. He emptied the 
 mead horn with the broad silver rim, and murmured a name. 
 
 ^Travelers on the Continent have frequent opportunities of 
 seeing how universally this custom prevails among travelers. In 
 some places on the Rhine, pots of paint and brushes are offered 
 by the natives to the traveler desirous of "immortallaing" him- 
 self. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 389 
 
 He begged the winds not to betray him, but I heard the 
 name. I knew it. A count's coronet sparkles above it, and 
 therefore he did not speak it out. I smiled, for I knew that a 
 poet's crown adorned his own name. The nobility of 
 Eleanora d'Este is attached to the name of Tasso. And I also 
 know where the Rose of Beauty blooms!" 
 
 Thus spake the Moon, and a cloud came between us. 
 May no cloud separate the poet from the rose ! 
 
 SEVENTH EVENING. 
 
 "Along the margin of the shore stretches a forest of firs 
 and beeches, and sweet, fresh, and fragrant is this wood; 
 hundreds of nightingales visit it every spring. Close beside 
 it is the sea, the ever-changing sea, and between the two is 
 placed the broad high road. One carriage after another 
 rolls over it; but I did not follow them, for my eyes love best 
 to rest upon one point. A Hun's Grave* lies there, and the 
 sloe and blackthorn grow luxuriantly among the stones. 
 Here is true poetry in nature. 
 
 "And how do you think men appreciate this poetry? I 
 will tell you what I heard there last evening and during the 
 night. 
 
 "First, two rich landed proprietors came driving by. 
 'Those are glorious trees!' said the first. 'Certainly; there 
 are ten loads of firewood in each,' observed the other; 'it 
 will be a hard winter, and last year we got fourteen dollars a 
 load' — and they were gone. 'The road here is wretched,' 
 observed another man who drove past. 'That's the fault of 
 those horrible trees,' replied his neighbor; 'there is no free 
 current of air; the wind can only come from the sea' — and 
 they were gone. The stage coach went rattling past. All 
 the passengers were asleep at this beautiful spot. The pos- 
 tilion blew his horn, but he only thought, '1 can play capi- 
 tally. It sounds well here. I wonder if those in there like 
 it?' — and the stage coach vanished. Then two young fel- 
 lows came galloping up on horseback. There's youth and 
 spirit in the blood here! thought I; and, indeed, they 
 
 *Large mounds, similar to the "barrows" found in Britain, are 
 thus designated in Germany and the North. 
 
390 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 looked with a smile at the moss-grown hill and thick forest, 
 'I should not dislike a walk here with the miller's Christine,' 
 said one — and they flew past. The flowers scented the air; 
 every breath was hushed; it seem.ed as if the sea was a part 
 of the sky that stretched above the deep valley. A carriage 
 rolled by. Six people were sitting in it. Four of them were 
 asleep ; the fifth was thinking of his new summer coat, which 
 would suit him admirably; the sixth turned to the coach- 
 man and asked him if there were anything remarkable con- 
 nected with yonder heap of stones. 'No,' replied the coach- 
 man, 'it is only a heap of stones; but the trees are remark- 
 able. 'How so?' 'Why, I'll tell you how they are very re- 
 markable. You see, in winter, when the snow lies very deep, 
 and has hidden the whole road so that nothing is to be seen, 
 those trees serve me for a landmark. I steer by them, so 
 as not to drive into the sea; and, you see, that is why the 
 trees are remarkable.' 
 
 "Now came a painter. He spoke not a word, but his eyes 
 sparkled. He began to whistle. At this the nightingales 
 sang louder than ever. 'Hold your tongues!' he cried, 
 testily; and he made accurate notes of all the colors and 
 transitions — blue, and lilac, and dark brown. 'That will 
 make a beautiful picture,' he said. He took it in just as a 
 mirror takes in a view; and as he Avorked he v/histled a 
 march of Rossini. And last of all came a poor girl. She 
 laid aside the burden she carried and sat down to rest upon 
 the Hun's Grave. Her pale, handsome face was bent in a 
 listening attitude toward the forest. Her eyes brightened, 
 she gazed earnestly at the sea and the sky, her hands were 
 folded, and I think she prayed, 'Our Father.' She herself 
 could not understand the feeling that swept through her, 
 but I know that this minute, and the beautiful natural scene, 
 will live within her memory for years, far more vividly and 
 more truly than the painter could portray it with his colors 
 on paper. My rays followed her till the morning dawn 
 kissed her brow." 
 
 EIGHTH EVENING. 
 
 Heavy clouds obscured the sky, and the Moon did not 
 make his appearance at all. I stood in my little room, more 
 lonely than ever, and looked up at the sky where he ought 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 391 
 
 to have shown himself. My thoughts flew far away, up to 
 my great friend, who every evening told me such pretty 
 tales, and showed me pictures. Yes, he has had an expe- 
 rience indeed. He glided over the waters of the Deluge, 
 and smiled on Noah's ark just as he lately glanced down 
 upon me, and brought comfort and promise of a new world 
 that was to spring forth from the old. When the Children 
 of Israel sat weeping by the waters of Babylon, he glanced 
 mournfully upon the willows where hung the silent harps. 
 When Romeo climbed the balcony, and the promise of true 
 love fluttered like a cherub toward heaven, the round Moon 
 hung, half hidden among the dark cypresses, in the lucid 
 air. Re saw the captive giant at St. Helena, looking from 
 the lonely rock across the wide ocean, while great thoughts 
 swept through his soul. Ah! what tales the Moon can tell. 
 Human life is like a story to him. To-night I shall not see 
 thee again, old friend. To-night I can draw no picture of 
 the memories of thy visit. And, as I looked dreamily to- 
 ward the clouds, the sky became bright. There was a glanc- 
 ing light, and a beam from the Moon fell upon me. It van- 
 ished again, and dark clouds flew past; but still it was a 
 greeting, a friendly good-night offered to me by the Moon. 
 
 NINTH EVENING. 
 
 rrhe air was clear again. Several evenings had passed, 
 and the Moon was in the first quarter. Again he gave me 
 an outline for a sketch. Listen to what he told me. 
 
 "I have followed the polar bird and the swimming whale 
 to the eastern coast of Greenland. Gaunt ice-covered rocks 
 and dark clouds hung over a valley, where dwarf willows 
 and barberry bushes stood clothed in green. The blooming 
 lychnis exhaled sweet odors. My light was faint, my face 
 pale as the water lily that, torn from its stem, had been drift- 
 ing for weeks with the tide. The crown-shaped Northern 
 Light burned fiercely in the sky. Its ring was broad, and 
 from its circumference the rays shot like whirling shafts of 
 fire across the whole sky, flashing in changing radiance 
 from green to red. The inhabitants of that icy region were 
 assembling for dance and festivity; but accustomed to this 
 glorious spectacle, they scarcely deigned to glance at it. 
 
392 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 'Let us leave the souls of the dead to their ball play with the 
 heads of the walruses,' they thought in their superstition, 
 and they turned their whole attention to the song and 
 dance. In the midst of the circle, and divested of his furry 
 cloak, stood a Greenlander, with a small pipe, and he played 
 and sang a song about catching the seal, and the chorus 
 around chimed in with 'Eia, Eia, Ah.' And in their white 
 furs they danced about in the circle, till you might fancy 
 it was a polar bear's ball. 
 
 "And now a Court of Judgment was opened. Those 
 Greenlanders who had quarreled stepped forward, and the 
 offended person chanted forth the faults of his adversary 
 in an extempore song, turning them sharply into ridicule, 
 to the sound of the pipe and the measure of the dance. The 
 defendant replied with satire as keen, while the audience 
 laughed and gave their verdict. 
 
 "The rocks heaved, the glaciers melted, and great masses 
 of ice and snov/ came crashinsf down, shiverinsf to frag- 
 ments as they fell; it was a glorious Greenland summer 
 night. A hundred paces away, under the open tent of hides, 
 lay a sick man. Life still flowed through his warm blood, 
 but still he was to die; he him.self felt it, and all who stood 
 round him knew it also; therefore his wife was already 
 sewing round him the shroud of furs, that she might not 
 afterward be obliged to touch the dead body. And she 
 asked, 'Wilt thou be buried on the rock, in the firm snow? 
 I will deck the spot with thy kayak, and thy arrows, and the 
 angekokk shall dance over it. Or wouldst thou rather be 
 buried in the sea?' 'In the sea,' he whispered, and nodded 
 with a mournful smile. 'Yes, it is a pleasant summer tent, 
 the sea,' observed the wife. 'Thousands of seals sport there, 
 the walrus shall lie at thy feet, and the hunt will be safe and 
 merry !' And the yelling children tore the- outspread hide 
 from the window hole, that the dead man might be carried 
 to the ocean, the billowy ocean, that had given him food in 
 life, and that now, in death, was to afford him a place of rest. 
 For his monument he had the floating, ever-changing ice- 
 bergs, whereon the seal sleeps, while the stormbird flies 
 round their gleaming summits." 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 393 
 
 TENTH EVENING. 
 
 "I knew an old maid," said the Moon. "Every winter she 
 wore a wrapper of yellow satin, and it always remained new, 
 and was the only fashion she followed. In summer she al- 
 ways wore the same straw hat, and I verily believe the very 
 same gray-blue dress. 
 
 "She never went out, except across the street to an old 
 female friend; and in later years she did not even take this 
 walk, for the old friend was dead. In her solitude my old 
 maid was always busy at the window, which was adorned in 
 summer with pretty flowers, and in winter with cress, grown 
 upon felt. During the last months I saw her no more at the 
 window, but she was still alive. I knew that, for I had not 
 yet seen her begin the 'long journey,' of which she often 
 spoke with her friend. 'Yes, yes,' she was in the habit of 
 saying, 'when I come to die, I shall take a longer journey 
 than I have made my whole life long. Our family vault is 
 six miles from here. I shall be carried there, and shall sleep 
 there among my family and relatives.' Last night a van 
 stopped at the house. A coffin was carried out, and then I 
 knew that she was dead. They placed straw round the 
 cofhn, and the van drove away. There slept the quiet old 
 lady, who had not gone out of her house once for the last 
 year. The van rolled out through the town gate as briskly 
 as if it were going for a pleasant excursion. On the high 
 road the pace was quicker yet. The coachman looked 
 nervously round every now and then — I fancy he half ex- 
 pected to see her sitting on the coffin, in her yellow satin 
 wrapper. And because he was startled, he foolishly lashed 
 his horses, while he held the reins so tightly that the poor 
 beasts were in a foam; they were young and fiery. A little 
 hare jumped across the road and startled them, and they 
 fairly ran away. The old, sober maiden, who had for years 
 and years moved quietly round and round in a dull circle, 
 was now, in death, rattled over stock and stone on the public 
 highway. The coffin, in its covering of straw, tumbled out 
 of the van, and was left on the high road, while horses, 
 coachman, and carriage flew past in wild career. The lark 
 rose up caroling from the field, twittering her morning lay 
 over the coffin, and presently perched upon it, picking with 
 
394 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 her beak at the straw covering, as though she would tear it 
 up. The lark rose up again, singing gayly, and I withdrew 
 behind the red morning clouds." 
 
 ELEVENTH EVENING. 
 
 "I will give you a picture of Pompeii," said the Moon. "I 
 was in the suburb in the Street of Tombs, as they call it, 
 where the fair monuments stand, in the spot where, ages 
 ago, the merry youths, their temples bound with rosy 
 wreathes, danced with the fair sisters of La'is. Now the 
 stillness of death reigned around. German mercenaries, in 
 the Neapolitan service, kept guard, and played cards and 
 dice; and a troop of strangers from beyond the mountains 
 came into the towm, accompanied by a sentry. They wanted 
 to see the city that had risen from the grave illumined by my 
 beams; and I showed them the wheel ruts in the streets 
 paved with broad lava slabs; I showed them the names on 
 the doors, and the signs that hung there yet; they saw in 
 the little courtyard the basins of the fountains, ornamented 
 with shells; bvit no jet of water gushed upward, no songs 
 sounded forth from the richly painted chambers, \vhere the 
 bronze dog kept the door. 
 
 "It was the City of the Dead; only Vesuvius thundered 
 forth his everlasting hymn, each separate verse of which is 
 called by men an eruption. We went to the temple of 
 Venus, built of snow-white marble, with its high altar in 
 front of the broad steps, and the weeping willows sprouting 
 freshly forth among the pillars. The air was transparent 
 and blue, and black Vesuvius formed the background, with 
 fire ever shooting forth from it, like the stem of the pine 
 tree. Above it stretched the smoky cloud in the silence of 
 the night, like the crown of the pine, but in a blood-red il- 
 lumination. Among the company was a lady singer, a real 
 and great singer. I have witnessed the homage paid to her 
 in the greatest cities of Europe. When they came to the 
 tragic theater, they all sat down on the amphitheater steps, 
 and thus a small part of the house was occupied by an audi- 
 ence, as it had been many centuries ago. The stage still 
 stood unchanged, and its walled sidescenes, and the two 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES, 395 
 
 arches in the background, through which the beholders saw 
 the same scene that had been exhibited in the old times — a 
 scene painted by Nature herself, namely, the mountains be- 
 tween Sorrento and Amalfi. The singer gayly mounted the 
 ancient stage, and sang. The place inspired her, and she 
 reminded me of a wild Arab horse, that rushes headlong 
 on with snorting nostrils and flying mane — her song was so 
 light and yet so firm. Anon I thought of the mourning 
 mother beneath the cross at Golgotha, so deep was the ex- 
 pression of pain. And, just as it had done thousands of 
 years ago, the sound of applause and delight now filled the 
 theater. 'Happy, gifted creature!' all the hearers exclaimed. 
 Five minutes more, and the stage was empty, the company 
 had vanished, and not a sound more was heard — all were 
 gone. But the ruins stood unchanged, as they will stand 
 when centuries shall have gone by, and when none shall 
 know of the momentary applause and of the triumph of the 
 fair songstress; when all will be forgotten and gone, and 
 even for me this hour will be but a dream of the past." 
 
 TWELFTH EVENING. 
 
 "I looked through the windows of an editor's house," 
 said the Moon. "It was somewhere in Germany. I saw 
 handsome furniture, many books, and a chaos of newspa- 
 pers. Several young men were present; the editor himself 
 stood at his desk, and two little books, both by young 
 authors, were to be noticed. 'This one has been sent to me,' 
 said he. 'I have not read it yet; what think you of the con- 
 tents?' 'Oh,' said the person addressed — he was a poet him- 
 self — 'it is good enough; a little broad, certainly; but, you 
 see the author is still young. The verses might be better, to 
 be sure ; the thoughts are sound, though there is certainly a 
 good deal of commonplace among them. But what will you 
 have? You can't be always getting something new. That 
 he'll turn out anything great I don't believe, but you may 
 safely praise him. He is well read, a remarkable Oriental 
 scholar, and has a good judgment. It was he v/ho wrote 
 that nice review of my "Reflections on Domestic Life." We 
 must be lenient toward the young man.' 
 
896 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 "'But he is a complete hack!' objected another of the 
 gentlemen. 'Nothing is worse in poetry than mediocrity, 
 and he certainly does not go beyond that.' 
 
 " 'Poor fellow!' observed a third, 'and his aunt is so happy 
 about him. It was she, Mr. Editor, who got together so 
 many subscribers for your last translation.' 
 
 " 'Ah, the good woman ! Well, I have noticed the book 
 briefly. Undoubted talent — a welcome offering — a flower 
 in the garden of poetry — prettily brought out, and so on. 
 But this other book — I suppose the author expects me to 
 purchase it? I hear it is praised. He has genius, certainly; 
 don't you think so?' 
 
 " 'Yes, all the world declares as much,' replied the poet, 
 'but it has turned out rather wildly. The punctuation of the 
 book, in particular, is ver}^ eccentric' 
 
 " 'It will be good for him if we pull hinx to pieces, and 
 anger him a little, otherwise he will get too good an opinion 
 of himself.' 
 
 " 'But that would be unfair,' objected the fourth. 'Let 
 us not carp at little faults, but rejoice over the real and abun- 
 dant good that we find here; he surpasses all the rest.' 
 
 " 'Not so. If he be a true genius, he can bear the sharp 
 voice of censure. There are people enough to praise him. 
 Don't let us quite turn his head.' 
 
 " 'Decided talent,' wrote the editor, 'with the usual care- 
 lessness. That he can write incorrect verses may be seen 
 in page 25, where there are two false quantities. We recom- 
 mend him to study the ancients,' etc. 
 
 "I went away," continued the Moon, "and looked through 
 the window in the aunt's house. There sat the bepraised 
 poet, the tame one ; all the guests paid homage to him, and 
 he was happy. 
 
 "I sought the other poet out, the wild one; him also I 
 found in a great assembly at his patron's where the tame 
 poet's book was being discussed. 
 
 " 'I shall read yours also,' said Maecenas ; 'but to speak 
 honestly — you know I never hide my opinions from you — I 
 don't expect much from it, for you are much too wild, too 
 fantastic. But it must assuredly be allowed that, as a 
 man, you are highly respectable.' 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 397 
 
 '"A young girl sat in a corner; and she read in a book 
 these words: 
 
 " 'In tlie dust lies genius and glory. 
 But ev'ry-day talent will pay. 
 It's only the old, old story, 
 But the piece is repeated eacli day.' " 
 
 THIRTEENTH EVENING. 
 
 The Moon said, "Beside the woodland path there are two 
 small farm-houses. The doors are low, and some of the 
 windows are placed quite high, and others close to the 
 ground; and whitethorn and barberry bushes grow around 
 them. The roof of each house is overgrown with moss and 
 with yellow flowers and houseleek. Cabbage and potatoes 
 are the only plants cultivated in the gardens, but out of the 
 hedge there grows a willow tree, and under this willow tree 
 sat a little girl, and she sat with her eyes fixed upon the old 
 oak tree between the two huts. 
 
 "It was an old withered stem. It had been sawn o& at the 
 top, and a stork had built his nest upon it; and he stood in 
 this nest clapping with his beak. A little boy came and 
 stood by the girl's side; they were brother and sister. 
 
 " 'What are you looking at?' he asked. 
 
 " 'I'm watching the stork/ she replied ; 'our neighbor told 
 me that he wovild bring us a little brother or sister to-day; 
 let us watch to see it come!' 
 
 " 'The stork brings no such things,' the boy declared, 'you 
 may be sure of that. Our neighbor told me the same thing, 
 but she laughed when she said it, and so I asked her if she 
 could say "On my honor,'' and she could not; and I know- 
 by that that the story about the storks is not true, and that 
 they only tell it to us children for fun.' 
 
 " 'But where do the babies come from, then?' asked the 
 girl. 
 
 " 'Why, an angel from heaven brings them under his 
 cloak, but no man can see him; and that's why we never 
 know when he brings them.' 
 
 "At that moment there was a rustling in the branches of 
 the willow tree, and the children folded their hands and 
 looked at one another; it was certainly the angel coming' 
 
398 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 with the baby. They took each other's hand, and at that 
 moment the door of one of the houses opened, and the 
 neighbor appeared. 
 
 " 'Come in, you two,' she said. 'See what the stork has 
 brought. It is a httle brother.' 
 
 "And the children nodded gravely at one another, for they 
 had felt quite sure already that the baby was come." 
 
 FOURTEENTH EVENING. 
 
 "I was gliding over the Liineburg Heath," the Moon 
 said. "A lonely hut stood by the wayside, a few scanty 
 bushes grew near it, and a nightingale who had lost his way 
 sang sweetly. He died in the coldness of the night; it was 
 his farewell song that I heard. 
 
 "The morning dawn came glimmering red. I saw a cara- 
 van of emigrant peasant families who were bound to Ham- 
 burgh, there to take ship for America, where fancied pros- 
 perity would bloom for them. The mothers carried their 
 little children at their backs, the elder ones trotted by their 
 sides, and a poor starved horse tugged at a cart that bore 
 their scanty effects. The cold wind whistled, and therefore 
 the little girl nestled closer to the mother, who, looking up 
 at my decreasing disk, thought of the bitter want at home, 
 and spoke of the heavy taxes they had not been able to raise. 
 The whole caravan thought of the same thing; therefore the 
 rising dawn seemed to them a message from the sun, of 
 fortune that was to gleam brightly upon them. They heard 
 the dying nightingale sing; it was no false prophet, but a 
 harbinger of fortune. The wind whistled, therefore they 
 did not understand that the nightingale sang, 'Far away 
 over the sea! Thou hast paid the long passage with all that 
 was thine, and poor and helpless shalt thou enter Canaan. 
 Thou must sell thyself, thy wife, and th}^ children. But 
 your griefs shall not last long. Behind the broad fragrant 
 leaves lurks the Goddess of Death, and her welcome kiss 
 shall breathe fever into thy blood. Fare away, fare away, 
 over the heaving billows.' And the caravan listened well 
 pleased to the song of the nightingale, which seemed to 
 promise good fortune. The day broke through the light 
 clouds; country people went across the heath to the church; 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY-TALES. 399 
 
 the black-gowned women with their white head-dresses 
 looked like ghosts that had stepped forth from the church 
 pictures. All around lay a wide dead plain, covered with 
 faded brown heath, and black charred spaces between the 
 white sand hills. The women carried hymn-books, and 
 walked into the church. Oh, pray, pray for those who are 
 wandering to find graves beyond the foaming billows." 
 
 FIFTEENTH EVENING. 
 
 "I know a Pulcinella,"* the Moon told me. "The public 
 applaud vociferously directly they see him. Everyone of his 
 movements is comic, and is sure to throw the house into 
 convulsions of laughter ; and yet there is no art in it at all — 
 it is complete nature. When he was yet a little boy, play- 
 ing with other boys, he was already Punch. Nature had in- 
 tended him for it, and had provided him with a hump on his 
 back, and another on his breast; but his inward man, his 
 mind, on the contrary, was richly furnished. No one could 
 surpass him in depth of feeling or in readiness of intellect. 
 The theater was his ideal world. If he had possessed a slen- 
 der, well-shaped figure, he might have been the first trage- 
 dian on any stage; the heroic, the great, filled his soul; and 
 yet he had become a Pulcinella. His very sorrow and 
 melancholy did but increase the comic dryness of his sharp- 
 ly-cut features, and increased the laughter of the audience, 
 who showered plaudits on their favorite. The lovely Colum- 
 bine was indeed kind and cordial to him; but she preferred 
 to marry the Harlequin. It would have been too ridiculous 
 if beauty and ugliness had in reality paired together. 
 
 "When Pulcinella was in very bad spirits, she was the 
 only one who could force a hearty burst of laughter, or even 
 a smile from him; first she would be melancholy with him, 
 then quieter, and at last quite cheerful and happy. T know 
 very well what is the matter with you,' she said; 'yes, you're 
 in love!' And he could not help laughing, T in love!' he 
 cried, 'that would have an absurd look. How the public 
 would shout!' 'Certainly, you are in love,' she continued; 
 
 *The comic or grotesque character of the Italian ballet, from 
 which the English "Punch" takes its origin. 
 
400 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 and added with a comic pathos, 'and I am the person you 
 are in love with.' You see, such a thing may be said when 
 it is quite out of the question — and, indeed, Pulcinella burst 
 out laughing, and gave a leap into the air, and his melan- 
 choly was forgotten. 
 
 "And yet she had only spoken the truth. He did love her, 
 love her adoringly, as he loved what was great and lofty in 
 art. At her wedding he was the merriest among the guests, 
 but in the stillness of night he wept; if the public had seen 
 the distorted face, then, they would have applauded raptur- 
 ously. 
 
 "And a few days ago Columbine died. On the day of the 
 funeral. Harlequin was not required to show himself on the 
 boards, for he was a disconsolate widower. The director 
 had to give a very merry piece, that the public might not too 
 painfully miss the pretty Columbine and the agile Harle- 
 quin. Therefore Pulcinella had to be more boisterous and 
 extravagant than ever; and he danced and capered, with 
 despair in his heart; and the audience yelled, and shouted, 
 'Bravo! bravissimo!' Pulcinella was actually called before 
 the curtain. He was pronounced inimitable. 
 
 "But last night the hideous little fellow went out of the 
 town, quite alone, to the deserted churchyard. The wreath 
 of flowers on Columbine's grave was already faded, and he 
 sat down there. It was a study for a painter. As he sat 
 with his chin on his hands, his eyes turned up toward me, 
 he looked like a grotesque monument — a Punch on a grave 
 — very peculiar and whimsical. If the people could have 
 seen their favorite, they would have cried as usual, 'Bravo! 
 Pulcinella! bravo, bravissimo!'" 
 
 SIXTEENTH EVENING. 
 
 Hear what the Moon told me: "I have seen the cadet 
 who had just been made an of^cer, put on his handsome 
 uniform for the first time; I have seen the young bride in 
 her wedding dress, and the Princess girl-wife happy in her 
 gorgeous robes; but never have I seen a felicity equal to 
 that of a little girl of four years old, whom I \vatched this 
 evening. She had received a new blue dress and a new pink 
 hat; the splendid attire had just been put on, and all were 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 401 
 
 calling for a candle, for my rays, shining in through the 
 windows of the room, were not bright enough for the occa- 
 sion, and further illumination was required. There stood 
 the little maid, stiff and upright as a doll, her arms stretched 
 painfully straight out away from her dress, and her fingers 
 apart; and, oh, what happiness beamed from her eyes and 
 from her whole countenance! 'To-morrow you shall go 
 out in your new clothes,' said her mother; and the little one 
 looked up at her hat and down at her frock, and smiled 
 brightly. 'Mother,' she cried, 'what will the little dogs think 
 when they see me in these splendid new things?' " 
 
 SEVENTEENTH EVENING. 
 
 "I have spoken to you of Pompeii," said the Moon ; "that 
 corpse of a city, exposed in the view of living towns; I 
 know another sight still more strange, and this is not the 
 corpse, but the specter of a city. Whenever the jetty foun- 
 tains splash into the marble basins, they seem to me to be 
 telling the story of the floating city. Yes, the sprouting 
 water may tell of her, the waves of the sea may sing of her 
 fame! On the surface of the ocean a mist often rests, and 
 this is her widow's veil. TheBridegroom of the Sea is dead, 
 his palace and his city are his mausoleum! Dost thou know 
 this city? She has never heard the rolling of wheels or the 
 hoof-tread of horses in her streets, through which the fish 
 swim, while the black gondola glides spectrally over the 
 green water. I will show you the place," continued the 
 Moon, "the largest square in it, and you will fancy yourself 
 transported into the city of a fairy tale. The grass grows 
 rank among the broad flagstones, and in the morning twi- 
 light thousands of tame pigeons flutter around the solitary, 
 lofty tower. On three sides you find yourself surrounded 
 by cloistered walks. In these the silent Turk sits smoking 
 his long pipe; the handsome Greek leans against the pillar, 
 and gazes at the upraised trophies and lofty masts, 
 memorials of power that is gone. The flags hang down like 
 morning scarves. A girl rests there; she has put down her 
 heavy pails filled with water, the yoke with which she has 
 carried them rests on one of her shoulders, and she leans 
 against the mast of victory. This is not a fairy palace you 
 
 26 
 
402 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 see before you yonder, but a church; the gilded domes and 
 shining orbs flash back my beams; the glorious bronze 
 horses up yonder have made journeys, like the bronze 
 horses in the fairy tale; they have come hither, and gone 
 hence, and have returned again. Do you notice the varie- 
 gated splendor of the walls and windows? It looks as if 
 Genius had followed the caprices of a child, in the adorn- 
 ment of these singular temples. Do you see the winged lion 
 on the pillar? The gold glitters still, but his wings are tied 
 — the lion is dead, for the King of the Sea is dead; the great 
 halls stand desolate, and where gorgeous painting hung of 
 yore, the naked wall now peers through. The lazzaroni 
 sleep under the arcade, whose pavement in old times was to 
 be trodden only by the feet of the high nobility. From the 
 deep wells, and perhaps from the prisons by the Bridge of 
 Sighs, rise the accents of woe, as at the time when the tam- 
 bourine was heard in the gay gondolas, and the golden ring 
 was cast from Bucentaur to Adria, the Queen of the Seas. 
 Adria! shroud thyself in mists; let the veil of thy widow- 
 hood shroud thy form, and clothe in the weeds of woe the 
 mausoleum of thy bridegroom — the marble, spectral 
 Venice!" 
 
 EIGHTEENTH EVENING. 
 
 "I looked down upon a great theater," said the Moon. 
 "The house was crowded, for a new actor was to make his 
 first appearance that night. My rays glided over a little win- 
 dow in the wall, and I saw a painted face with the forehead 
 pressed against the panes. It was the hero of the evening. 
 The knightly beard curled crisply about the chin ; but there 
 were tears in the man's eyes, for he had been hissed off, and 
 indeed with reason. The poor Incapable! But Incapables 
 cannot be admitted into the empire of Art. He had deep 
 feelings, and loved his art enthusiastically, but the art loved 
 not him. The prompter's bell sounded; 'the hero enters 
 with a determined air,' so ran the stage direction in his part, 
 and he had to appear before an audience who turned him 
 into ridicule. When the piece was over, I saw a form 
 wrapped in a mantle creeping down the steps; it was the 
 vanquished knight of the evening. The scene shifters 
 whispered to one another, and I followed the poor fellow 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 403 
 
 home to his room. To hang one's self is to die a mean 
 death, and poison is not always at hand, I know; but he 
 thought of both. I saw how he looked at his pale face in 
 the glass, with eyes half closed, to see if he should look well 
 as a corpse. A man may be very unhappy, and yet exceed- 
 ingly affected. He thought of death, of suicide; I believe he 
 pitied himself, for he wept bitterly; and when a man has had 
 his cry out he doesn't kill himself. 
 
 "Since that time a year had rolled by. Again a play was 
 to be acted, but in a little theater, and by a poor strolling 
 company. Again I saw the well remembered face, with the 
 painted cheeks and the crisp beard. He looked up at me 
 and smiled; and yet he had been hissed ofif only a minute 
 before — hissed off from a wretched theater by a miserable 
 audience. And to-night a shabby hearse rolled out of the 
 town gate. It was a suicide — our painted, despised hero. 
 The driver of the hearse was the only person present, for 
 no one followed except my beams. In a corner of the 
 churchyard the corpse of the suicide was shoveled into the 
 earth, and nettles will soon be rankly growing over his 
 grave, and the sexton will throw thorns and weeds from the 
 other graves upon it." 
 
 NINETEENTH EVENING. 
 
 "I come from Rome," said the Moon. "In the midst of 
 the city, upon one of the seven hills, lie the ruins of the im- 
 perial palace. The wild fig tree grows in the clefts of the 
 wall, and covers the nakedness thereof with its broad, gray- 
 green leaves; trampling among heaps of rubbish, the ass 
 treads upon green laurels, and rejoices over the rank this- 
 tles. From this spot, whence the eagles of Rome once flew 
 abroad, whence they 'came, saw and conquered,' one door 
 leads into a little, mean house, built of clay between two 
 pillars; the wild vine hangs like a mourning garland over 
 the crooked window. An old woman and her little grand- 
 daughter live there; they rule now in the palace of the 
 Caesars, and show to strangers the remains of its past 
 glories. Of the splendid throne-hall only a naked wall 
 yet stands, and a black cypress throws it dark shadow on 
 the spot where the throne once stood. The dust lies several 
 feet deep on the broken pavement; and the little maiden, 
 
4^ ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 now the daughter of the imperial palace, often sits there on 
 her stool when the evening bells ring. The keyhole of the 
 door close by she calls her turret-window; through this 
 she can see half Rome, as far as the mighty cupola of St. 
 Peter's. 
 
 "On this evening, as usual, stillness reigned around; and 
 in the full beam of my light came the little granddaughter. 
 On her head she carried an earthen pitcher of antique shape 
 filled with watef. Her feet v/ere bare, her short frock and 
 her white sleeves were torn. I kissed her pretty, round 
 shoulders, her dark eyes, and black, shining hair. She 
 mounted the stairs; they were steep, having been made 
 up of rough blocks of broken marble and the capital of a 
 fallen pillar. The colored lizards slipped away, startled, 
 from before her feet, but she was not frightened at them. 
 Already she lifted her hand to pull the doorbell — a hare's 
 foot fastened to a string formed the bellhandle of the im^- 
 periai palace. She paused for a moment — of what might 
 she be thinking? Perhaps of the beautiful Christ-child, 
 dressed in gold and silver, which was down below in the 
 chapel, where the silver candlesticks gleamed so bright, 
 and where her little friends sang the hymns in which she 
 also could join. I know not. Presently she moved again — 
 she stuinbled; the earthen vessel fell from her head, and 
 broke on the marble steps. She burst into tears. The 
 beautiful daughter of the imperial palace wept over the 
 worthless, broken pitcher; with her bare feet she stood 
 there weeping, and dared not pull the string, the belkrope 
 of the imperial palace." 
 
 TWENTIETH EVENING. 
 
 It was more than a fortnight since the Moon had shone. 
 Now he stood once more, round and bright, above the 
 clouds, moving slowly onward. Hear what the Moon told 
 me. 
 
 "From a town in Fezzan I followed a caravan. On the 
 margin of the sandy desert, in a salt plain, that shone like a 
 frozen lake, and was only covered in spots with light drift- 
 ing sand, a halt was made. The eldest of the company — the 
 water-gourd hung at his girdle, and on his head was a little 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 405 
 
 bag of unleavened bread— drew a square in the sand with 
 his staff, and wrote in it a few words out of the Koran, and 
 then the whole caravan passed over the consecrated spot. A 
 young merchant, a child of the East, as I could tell by his 
 eye and his figure, rode pensively forward on his white, 
 snorting steed. Was he thinking, perchance, of his fair 
 young wife? It was only two days ago that the camel, 
 adorned with furs and with costly shawls, had carried her, 
 the beauteous bride, round the walls of the city, while drums 
 and cymbals had sounded, the women sang, and festive 
 shots, of which the bridegroom fired the greatest number, 
 resounded round the camel; and now he was journeying 
 with the caravan across the desert. 
 
 "For many nights I followed the train. I saw them rest 
 by the wellside among the stunted palms; they thrust the 
 knife into the breast of the camel that had fallen, and 
 roasted its flesh by the fire. 'My beams cooled the glowing 
 sands, and showed them the black rocks, dead islands in the 
 immense ocean of sand. No hostile tribes met them in 
 their pathless route, no storms arose, no columns of sand 
 whirled destruction over the journeying caravan. At home 
 the beautiful wife prayed for her husband and her father. 
 'Are they dead?' she asked of my golden crescent; 'Are 
 they dead?' she cried to ray full disk. Now the desert lies 
 behind them. This evening they sit beneath the lofty palm 
 trees where the crane flutters round them with its long- 
 wings, and the pelican watches them from the branches of 
 the mimosa. The luxuriant herbage is trampled down, 
 crushed by the feet of elephants. A troop of negroes are re- 
 turning from a market in the interior of the land; the 
 women, with copper buttons in their black train, and 
 decked out in clothes dyed with indigo, drive the heavily- 
 laden oxen, on whose backs slumber the naked black chil- 
 dren. A negro leads a young lion, which he has bought, 
 by a string. They approach the caravan; the young mer- 
 chant sits pensive and motionless, thinking of his beauti- 
 ful wife, dreaming, in the land of the blacks, of his white, 
 fragrant lily beyond the desert. He raises his head, and — " 
 
 ■But at this moment a cloud passed before the Moon, and 
 then another. I heard nothing more from him this even- 
 ing. 
 
406 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 TWENTY-FIRST EVENING. 
 
 "I looked down on Tyrol," said the Moon, "and my beams 
 caused the dark pines to throw long shadows upon the 
 rocks. I looked at the pictures of St. Christopher carrying 
 the Infant Jesus that are painted there upon the walls of the 
 houses, colossal figures reaching from the ground to the 
 roof. St. Florian was represented pouring water on the 
 burning house, and the Lord hung bleeding on the great 
 cross by the wayside. To the present generation these are 
 old pictures, but I saw when they were put up, and marked 
 how one followed the other. On the brow of the mountain 
 yonder is perched, like a swallow's nest, a lonely convent of 
 nuns. Two of the sisters stood up in the tower tolling the 
 bell; they were both young, and therefore their glances 
 flew over the mountain out into the world. A traveling 
 coach passed by below, the postilion wound his horn, and 
 the poor nuns looked after the carriage for a moment with a 
 mournful glance, and a tear gleamed in the eyes of the 
 younger one. And the horn sounded faintly and more faint, 
 and the convent bell drowned its expiring echoes." 
 
 TWENTY-SECOND EVENING. 
 
 "I saw a little girl weeping," said the Moon; "she was 
 weeping over the depravity of the world. She had received 
 a most beautiful doll as a present. Oh, that was a glorious 
 doll, so fair and delicate! She did not seem created for the 
 sorrows of this world. But the brothers of the little girl, 
 those great, naughty boys, had set the doll high up in the 
 branches of a tree, and had run away. 
 
 "The little girl could not reach up to the doll, and could 
 not help her down, and that is why she was crying. The 
 doll must certainly have been crsdng, too, for she stretched 
 out her arms among the green branches, and looked quite 
 mournful. Yes, these are the troubles of life of which the 
 little girl had often heard tell. Alas, poor doll! it began to 
 grow dark already; and suppose night were to come on 
 completely! Was she to be left sitting there alone on the 
 bough all night long? No, the little maid could not make 
 
iA.NDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 407 
 
 Up her mind to that. 'I'll stay with you,' she said, although 
 she felt anything but happy in her mind. She could almost 
 fancy she distinctly saw little gnomes, with their high- 
 crowned hats, sitting in the bushes; and farther back in the 
 long walk, tall specters appeared to be dancing. They came 
 nearer and nearer, and stretched out their hands toward the 
 tree on which the doll sat; they laughed scornfully, and 
 pointed at her with their fingers. Oh, how frightened the 
 little maid was! 'But if one has not done anything wrong,' 
 she thought, 'nothing evil can harm one. I wonder if I have 
 done anything wrong?' And she considered. 'Oh, yes! I 
 laughed at the poor duck with the red rag on her leg; she' 
 limped along so funnily, I could not help laughing; but it's 
 a sin to laugh at animals.' And she looked up at the doll. 
 'Did you laugh at the duck, too?' she asked; and it seemed 
 as if the doll shook her head." 
 
 TWENTY-THIRD EVENING. 
 
 Hear what the Moon told me: "Some years ago, here in 
 Copenhagen, I looked through the window of a mean little 
 room. The father and mother slept, but the little son was 
 not asleep. I saw the flowered cotton curtains of the bed 
 move, and the child peep forth. At first I thought he was 
 looking at the great clock, which was gayly painted in red 
 and green. At the top sat a cuckoo, below hung the heavy 
 leaden weights, and the pendulum with the polished disk 
 of metal went to and fro, and said 'tick, tick.' But no, he 
 was not looking at the clock, but at his mother's spinning 
 wheel, that stood just underneath it. That was the boy's 
 favorite piece of furniture, but he dared not touch it, for if 
 he meddled with it he got a rap on the knuckles. For hours 
 together, when his mother was spinning, he would sit quietly 
 by her side, watching the murmuring spindle and the re- 
 volving wheel, and as he sat he thought of many things. 
 Oh, if he might only turn the wheel himself. Father and 
 mother were asleep; he looked at them, and looked at the 
 spinning wheel, and presently a little naked foot peered out 
 of the bed, and then a second foot, and then two little 
 white legs. ITiere he stood. He looked round once more, 
 to see if father and mother were still asleep — yes, they slept; 
 
408 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 and now he crept softly, softly, in his short little nightgown, 
 to the spinning wheel, and began to spin. The thread flew 
 from the wheel, and the wheel whirled faster and faster. I 
 kissed his fair hair and his blue eyes. It was such a pretty 
 picture. 
 
 "At that moment the mother awoke. The curtain shook; 
 she looked forth, and fancied she saw a gnome or some 
 other kind of little specter. Tn Heaven's name!' she cried, 
 and aroused her husband in a frightened way. He opened 
 his eyes, rubbed them with his hands, and looked at the 
 brisk little lad. 'Why, that is Bertel,' said he. And my eyes 
 quitted the poor room, for I have so much to see. At the 
 same moment I looked at the halls of the Vatican, where 
 the marble gods are enthroned. I shone upon the group of 
 the Lacoon; the stone seemed to sigh. I pressed a silent 
 kiss on the lips of the Muses, and they seemed to stir and 
 move. But my rays lingered longest about the Nile group, 
 with the colossal god. Leaning against the Sphinx, he lies 
 there thoughtful and meditative, as if he were thinking on 
 the rolling centuries; and little love-gods sport with him 
 and with the crocodiles. In the horn of plenty sits with 
 folded arms a little, tiny love-god contemplating the great 
 solemn river-god, a true picture of the boy at the spinning 
 wheel — the features were exactly the same. Charming and 
 lifelike stood the little marble form, and yet the wheel of 
 the years had turned more than a thousand times since the 
 time when it sprang from the stone. Just as often as the boy 
 in the little room turned the spinning wheel had the great 
 wheel murmured, before the age could again call forth 
 marble gods equal to those he afterward formed. 
 
 "Years have passed since all this happened," the Moon 
 went on to say. "Yesterday I looked upon a bay on the 
 eastern coast of Denmark. Glorious woods are there, and 
 high trees, an old knightly castle with red walls, swans 
 floating in the ponds, and in the background appears, 
 among orchards, a little town with a church. Many boats, 
 the crews all furnished with torches, glided over the silent 
 expanse — but these fires had not been kindled for catching 
 fish, for everything had a festive look. Music sounded, a 
 song was sung, and in one of the boats a man stood erect, to 
 whom homage was paid by the rest, a tall, sturdy man, 
 wrapped in a cloak. He had blue eyes and long white hair. 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 409 
 
 I knew him, and thought of the Vatican, and of the group 
 of the Nile, and the old marble gods. I thought of the sim- 
 ple little room where little Bertel sat in his nightshirt by the 
 spinning wheel. The wheel of time has turned, and new 
 gods have come forth from the stone. From the boats there 
 arose a shout: 'Hurrah! hurrah for Bertel Thorwaldsen!'" 
 
 TWENTY-FOURTH EVENING. 
 
 "I will now give you a picture from Frankfort," said the 
 Moon. "I especially noticed one building there. It was not 
 the house in which Goethe was born, nor the old council 
 house, through whose grated windows peered the horns of 
 the oxen that were roasted and given to the people when the 
 Emperors were crowned. No, it was a private house, plain 
 in appearance, and painted green. It stood near the old 
 Jews' Street. It was Rothschild's house. 
 
 "I looked through the open door. The staircase was 
 brilliantly lighted; servants carrying wax candles in mas- 
 sive silver candlesticks stood there, and bowed low before 
 an aged woman, who was being brought downstairs in a 
 litter. The proprietor of the house stood bareheaded, and 
 respectfully imprinted a kiss on the hand of the old woman. 
 She was his mother. She nodded in a friendly manner to 
 him and to the servants, and they carried her into the dark, 
 narrow street, into a little house, that was her dwelling. 
 Here her children had been born, from hence the fortune 
 of the family had arisen. If she deserted the despised street 
 and the little house, fortune would also desert her children. 
 That was her firm belief." 
 
 The Moon told me no more; his visit this evening was 
 far too short. But I thought of the old woman in the nar- 
 row, despised street. It would have cost her but a word, 
 and a brilliant house would have arisen for her on the banks 
 of the Thames — a word, and a villa would have been pre- 
 pared in the Bay of Naples. 
 
 "If I deserted the lowly house, where the fortunes of my 
 sons first began to bloom, fortune would desert them!" It 
 was a superstition, but a superstition of such a class, that he 
 who knows the story and has seen this picture, need have 
 
410 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 only two words placed under the picture to make him un- 
 derstand it; and these two words are: "A mother.'' 
 
 TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING. 
 
 "It was yesterday, in the morning twilight" — these are the 
 words the Moon told me — "in the great city no chimney 
 was yet smoking — and it was just at the chimneys that I was 
 looking. Suddenly a little head emerged from one of them, 
 and then half a body, the arms resting on the rim of the 
 chimneypot. 'Ya-hip!' cried a voice. It was the little 
 chimney sweeper, who had for the first time in his life crept 
 through a chimney and stuck out his head at the top. 'Ya- 
 hip! ya-hip!' Yes, certainly that was a very different thing 
 from creeping about in the dark, narrow chimneys! the air 
 blows so fresh, and he could look over the whole city toward 
 the green wood. The sun was just rising. It shone round 
 and great, just in his face, that beamed with triumph, 
 though it was very prettily blacked with soot. 
 
 " 'The whole town can see me now,' he exclaimed, 'and 
 the moon can see me now, and the sun, too. Ya-hip! 
 ya-hip!' And he flourished his broom in triumph." 
 
 TWENTY-SIXTH EVENING. 
 
 "Last night I looked down upon a town in China," said 
 the Moon. "My beams irradiated the naked walls that form 
 the streets there. Now and then, certainly, a door is seen, 
 but it is locked, for what does the Chinaman care about the 
 outer world? Close wooden shutters covered the windows 
 behind the walls of the houses; but through the windows 
 of the temple a faint light glimmered. I looked in, and saw 
 the quaint decorations within. From the floor to the ceiling 
 pictures are painted in the most glaring colors and richly 
 gilt — pictures representing the deeds of the gods here on 
 earth. In each nine statues are placed, but they are almost 
 entirely hidden by the colored drapery and the banners 
 that hang down. Before each idol (and they are all made of 
 tin) stood a little altar of holy water, with flowers and burn- 
 ing wax lights on it. Above all the rest stood Fo, the chief 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 411 
 
 deity, clad in a garment of yellow silk, for yellow is here the 
 sacred color. At the foot of the altar sat a living being, a 
 young priest. He appeared to be praying, but in the midst 
 of his prayer he seemed to fall into deep thought, and this 
 must have been wrong, for his cheeks glowed and he held 
 down his head. Poor Soui-hong ! Was he, perhaps, dream- 
 ing of working in the little flower garden behind the high 
 street wall? And did that occupation seem more agreeable 
 to him than watching the wax lights in the temple? Or did 
 he wish to sit at the rich feast, wiping his mouth with silver 
 paper between each course? Or was his sin so great that, 
 if he dared to utter it, the Celestial Empire would punish it 
 with death? Had his thoughts ventured to fly with the ships 
 of the barbarians, to their homes in far-distant England? 
 No, his thoughts did not fly so far, and yet they were sinful, 
 sinful, as thoughts born of young hearts, sinful here in the 
 temple, in the presence of Fo and the other holy gods. 
 
 "I know whither his thoughts had strayed. At the farther 
 end of the city, on the flat roof paved with porcelain, on 
 which stood the handsome vases covered with painted flow- 
 ers, sat the beauteous Pu, of the little roguish eyes, of the 
 full lips, and of the tiny feet. The tight shoe pained her, but 
 her heart pained her still more. She lifted her graceful, 
 round arm, and her satin dress rustled. Before her stood 
 a glass bowl containing four goldfish. She stirred the bowl 
 carefully with a slender lacquered stick, very slowly, for she, 
 too, was lost in thought. Was she thinking, perchance, how 
 the fishes were richly clothed in gold, how they lived calmly 
 and peacefully in their crystal world, how they were regu- 
 larly fed, and yet how much happier they might be if they 
 were free? Yes, that she could well understand, the beauti- 
 ful Pu. Her thoughts wandered away from her home, wan- 
 dered to the temple, but not for the sake of holy things. 
 Poor Pu! Poor Soui-hong! 
 
 "Their earthly thoughts met, but my cold beam lay be- 
 tween the two like the sword of the cherub." 
 
 TWENTY-SEVENTH EVENING. 
 
 "The air was calm," said the Moon; "the water was as 
 transparent as the pure ether through which I was gHding, 
 
412 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 and deep below the surface I could see the strange plants 
 that stretched up their long arms toward me like the gigan- 
 tic trees of the forests. The fishes swam to and fro above 
 their tops. High in the air a flight of wild swans were wing- 
 ing their way, one of which sank lower and lower, with 
 wearied pinions, his eyes following the airy caravan, that 
 mdted farther and farther into the distance. With outspread 
 wings he sank slowly as a soap bubble sinks in the still air, 
 till he touched the water. At length his head lay back be- 
 tween his wings, and silently he lay there, like a white lotus 
 flower upon the quiet lake. And a gentle wind arose, and 
 crisped the quiet surface which gleamed like the clouds that 
 poured along in great, broad waves; and the swan raised 
 his head, and the glowing water splashed like blue fire over 
 his breast and back. The morning dawn illuminated the 
 red clouds, the swan rose strengthened, and flew toward the 
 rising sun, toward the bluish coast whither the caravan had 
 gone; but he flew all alone, with a longing in his breast. 
 Lonely he flew over the blue, swelling billows.'' 
 
 TWENTY-EIGHTH EVENING. 
 
 "I will give you another picture of Sweden," said the 
 Moon. "Among dark pine woods, near the melancholy 
 banks of the Stoxen, lies the old convent church of Wreta. 
 My rays glided through the grating into the roomy vaults, 
 where Kings sleep tranquilly in great stone coffins. On the 
 wall, above the grave of each, is placed the emblem of earth- 
 ly grandeur, a kingly crown ; but it is made only of wood, 
 painted and gilt, and is hung on a wooden peg driven into 
 the wall. The worms have gnawn the gilded wood, the 
 spider has spun her web from the crown down to the sand, 
 like a mourning banner, frail and transient as the grief of 
 mortals. ^ How quietly they sleep! I can remember them 
 quite plainly. I still see the bold smile on their lips, that so 
 strongly and plainly expressed joy or grief. When the 
 steamboat winds along like a magic snail^over the lakes, a 
 stranger often comes to the church, and visits the burial 
 vault; he asks the names of the Kings, and they have a 
 dead and forgotten sound. He glances with a smile at the 
 worm-eaten crowns, and if he happens to be a pious, 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 413 
 
 thoughtful man, something of melancholy mingles with the 
 smile. Slumber on, ye dead ones! The Moon thinks of 
 you, the Moon at night sends down her rays into your silent 
 kingdom, over which hangs the crown of pine wood." 
 
 TWENTY-NINTH EVENING. 
 
 "Close by the high road," said the Moon, "is an inn, and 
 opposite to it is a great wagon shed, whose straw roof was 
 just being re-thatched. I looked down between the bare 
 rafters and through the open loft into the comfortless space 
 below. The turkey-cock slept on the beam, and the saddle 
 rested in the empty crib. In the middle of the shed stood 
 a traveling carriage; the proprietor was inside, fast asleep, 
 while the horses were being watered. The coachman 
 stretched himself, though I am very sure that he had been 
 most comfortably asleep half the last stage. The door of the 
 servants' room stood open, and the bed looked as if it had 
 been turned over and over; the candle stood on the floor, 
 and had been burned deep dov/n into the socket. The wind 
 blew cold through the shed ; it was nearer to the dawn than 
 to midnight. In the wooden frame on the ground slept a 
 wonderful family of musicians. The father and mother 
 seemed to be dreaming of the burning liquor that remained 
 in the bottle. The little pale daughter was dreaming, too, 
 for her eyes were wet with tears. The harp stood at their 
 heads, and the dog lay stretched at their feet," 
 
 THIRTIETH EVENING. 
 
 "It was in a little provincial town," the Moon said; "it 
 certainly happened last year, but that has nothing to do with 
 the matter. I saw it quite plainly. To-day I read about it 
 in the papers, but there it is not half so clearly expressed. 
 In the tap-room of the little inn sat the bear leader, eating 
 his supper; the bear was tied up outside, behind the wood 
 pile — poor Bruin, who did nobody any harm, though he 
 looked grim enough. Up in the garret three little children 
 were playing by the light of my beams; the eldest was per- 
 haps six years old, the youngest certainly not more than 
 
414 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 two. Tramp ! tramp ! — somebody was coming upstairs ; who 
 might it be? The door was thrust open — it was Bruin, the 
 great, shaggy Bruin! He had got tired of waiting down in 
 the courtyard, and had found his way to the stairs. I saw 
 it all," said the Moon. "The children were very much 
 frightened at first at the great, shaggy animal; each of 
 them crept into a corner, and he found them all out, and 
 smelt at them, but did them no harm. 'This must be a great 
 dog,' they said, and began to stroke him. He lay down 
 upon the ground, the youngest boy clambered on his back, 
 and, bending down a little head of golden curls, played at 
 hiding in the beast's shaggy skin. Presently the eldest boy 
 took his drum, and beat it till it rattled again; the bear 
 rose up on its hind legs and began to dance. It was a 
 charming sight to behold. Each boy now took his gun, 
 and the bear was obliged to have one, too, and he held it up 
 quite properly. Here was a capital playmate they had 
 found! and they began marching — one, two; one, two. 
 
 "Suddenly someone came to the door, which opened, 
 and the mother of the children appeared. You should have 
 seen her in her dumb terror, with her face as white as chalk, 
 her mouth half open, and her eyes fixed in a horrified stare. 
 But the youngest boy nodded to her in great glee, and 
 called out in his infantile prattle, 'We're playing at sol- 
 diers.' And then the bear leader came running up." 
 
 THIRTY-FIRST EVENING. 
 
 The wind blew stormy and cold, the clouds flew hurriedly 
 past; only for a moment now and then did the Moon be- 
 come visible. He said, "I looked down from the silent sky 
 upon the driving clouds, and saw the great shadows chas- 
 ing each other across the earth. I looked upon a prison. 
 A closed carriage stood before it; a prisoner was to be 
 carried away. My rays pierced through the grated window 
 toward the wall; the prisoner was scratching a few lines 
 upon it, as a parting token ; but he did not write words, but 
 a melody, the outpouring of his heart. The door was 
 opened, and he was led forth, and fixed his eyes upon my 
 round disk. Clouds passed between us, as if he were not to 
 see my face, nor I his. He stepped into the carriage, the 
 
ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 415 
 
 door was closed, the whip cracked, and the horses galloped 
 off into the thick forest, whither my rays were not able to 
 follow him; but as I glanced through the grated window, 
 my rays glided over the notes, his last farewell engraved on 
 the prison wall — where words fail, sounds can often speak. 
 My rays could only light up isolated notes, so the greater 
 part of what was written there will ever remain dark to me. 
 Was it the death hymn he wrote there? Were these the glad 
 notes of joy? Did he drive away to meet his death, or 
 hasten to the embraces of his beloved? The rays of the 
 Moon do not read all that is written by mortals." 
 
 THIRTY-SECOND EVENING. 
 
 "1 love the children," said the Moon, "especially the quite 
 little ones — they are so droll. Sometimes I peep into the 
 room, between the curtain and the window frame, when 
 they are not thinking of me. It gives me pleasure to see 
 them dressing and undressing. First, the little round, 
 naked shoulder comes creeping out of the frock, then the 
 arm; or I see how the stocking is drawn off, and a plump 
 little white leg makes it appearance, and a little white foot 
 that is fit to be kissed, and I kiss it, too. 
 
 "But about what I was going to tell you. This evening 
 I looked through a window, before which no curtain was 
 drawn, for nobody lives opposite. I saw a whole troop of 
 little ones, all of one family, and among them was a little 
 sister. She is only four years old, but can say her prayers 
 as well as any of the rest. The mother sits by her bed every 
 evening, and hears her say her prayers; and then she has a 
 kiss, and the mother sits by the bed till the little one has 
 gone to sleep, which generally happens as soon as ever she 
 can close her eyes. 
 
 "This evening the two elder children v\^ere a little boister- 
 ous. One of them hopped about on one leg in his long 
 night-gown, and the other stood on a chair surrounded by 
 the clothes of all the children, and declared he was acting 
 Grecian statues. The third and fourth laid the clean linen 
 carefully in the box, for that is a thing that has to be done; 
 and the mother sat by the bed of the youngest, and an- 
 
416 ANDERJSEN'S FAIRY TALES. 
 
 nounced to all the rest that they were to be quiet, for little 
 sister was going to say her prayers. 
 
 "I looked in, over the lamp, into the little maiden's bed, 
 where she lay under the neat white coverlet, her hands 
 folded demurely and her little face quite grave and serious. 
 She was praying the Lord's Prayer aloud. But her mother 
 interrupted in the middle of her prayer. 'How is it,' she 
 asked, 'that when you have prayed for daily bread, you al- 
 ways add something I cannot understand? You must tell 
 me what that is.' The little one lay silent, and looked at her 
 mother in embarrassment. 'What is it you say after our 
 daily bread?' 'Dear mother, don't be angry; I only said, 
 and ;plenty of hutter on it.' " 
 
 THE END. 
 
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