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1872FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSENJACK THE DULLARDAN OLD STORY TOLD ANEWby Hans Christian AndersenFAR in the interior of the country lay an old baronial hall, andin it lived an old proprietor, who had two sons, which two young menthought themselves too clever by half. They wanted to go out and woo the King’s daughter; for the maiden in question had publicly announced that she would choose for her husband that youth who could arrange his words best.So these two geniuses prepared themselves a full week for thewooing- this was the longest time that could be granted them; but itwas enough, for they had had much preparatory information, andeverybody knows how useful that is. One of them knew the whole Latin dictionary by heart, and three whole years of the daily paper of the little town into the bargain, and so well, indeed, that he couldrepeat it all either backwards or forwards, just as he chose. Theother was deeply read in the corporation laws, and knew by heartwhat every corporation ought to know; and accordingly he thought hecould talk of affairs of state, and put his spoke in the wheel inthe council. And he knew one thing more: he could embroider suspenders with roses and other flowers, and with arabesques, for he was a tasty, light-fingered fellow.”I shall win the Princess!” So cried both of them. Therefore theirold papa gave to each of them a handsome horse. The youth who knew the dictionary and newspaper by heart had a black horse, and he who knew all about the corporation laws received a milk-white steed. Then they rubbed the corners of their mouths with fish-oil, so that they might become very smooth and glib. All the servants stood below in the courtyard, and looked on while they mounted their horses; and just by chance the third son came up. For the proprietor had really three sons, though nobody counted the third with his brothers, because he was not so learned as they, and indeed he was generally known as “Jack the Dullard.”"Hallo!” said Jack the Dullard, “where are you going? I declareyou have put on your Sunday clothes!”"We’re going to the King’s court, as suitors to the King’sdaughter. Don’t you know the announcement that has been made allthrough the country?” And they told him all about it.”My word! I’ll be in it too!” cried Jack the Dullard; and histwo brothers burst out laughing at him, and rode away.”Father, dear,” said Jack, “I must have a horse too. I do feelso desperately inclined to marry! If she accepts me, she accepts me;and if she won’t have me, I’ll have her; but she shall be mine!”"Don’t talk nonsense,” replied the old gentleman. “You shallhave no horse from me. You don’t know how to speak- you can’tarrange your words. Your brothers are very different fellows fromyou.”"Well,” quoth Jack the Dullard, “If I can’t have a horse, I’lltake the Billy-goat, who belongs to me, and he can carry me verywell!”And so said, so done. He mounted the Billy-goat, pressed his heelsinto its sides, and galloped down the high street like a hurricane.”Hei, houp! that was a ride! Here I come!” shouted Jack theDullard, and he sang till his voice echoed far and wide.But his brothers rode slowly on in advance of him. They spokenot a word, for they were thinking about the fine extempore speechesthey would have to bring out, and these had to be cleverly preparedbeforehand.”Hallo!” shouted Jack the Dullard. “Here am I! Look what I havefound on the high road.” And he showed them what it was, and it wasa dead crow.”Dullard!” exclaimed the brothers, “what are you going to dowith that?”"With the crow? why, I am going to give it to the Princess.”"Yes, do so,” said they; and they laughed, and rode on.”Hallo, here I am again! just see what I have found now: you don’tfind that on the high road every day!”And the brothers turned round to see what he could have found now.”Dullard!” they cried, “that is only an old wooden shoe, and theupper part is missing into the bargain; are you going to give thatalso to the Princess?”"Most certainly I shall,” replied Jack the Dullard; and againthe brothers laughed and rode on, and thus they got far in advanceof him; but-”Hallo- hop rara!” and there was Jack the Dullard again. “It isgetting better and better,” he cried. “Hurrah! it is quite famous.”"Why, what have you found this time?” inquired the brothers.”Oh,” said Jack the Dullard, “I can hardly tell you. How gladthe Princess will be!”"Bah!” said the brothers; “that is nothing but clay out of theditch.”"Yes, certainly it is,” said Jack the Dullard; “and clay of thefinest sort. See, it is so wet, it runs through one’s fingers.” And hefilled his pocket with the clay.But his brothers galloped on till the sparks flew, andconsequently they arrived a full hour earlier at the town gate thancould Jack. Now at the gate each suitor was provided with a number,and all were placed in rows immediately on their arrival, six ineach row, and so closely packed together that they could not movetheir arms; and that was a prudent arrangement, for they wouldcertainly have come to blows, had they been able, merely because one of them stood before the other.All the inhabitants of the country round about stood in greatcrowds around the castle, almost under the very windows, to see thePrincess receive the suitors; and as each stepped into the hall, hispower of speech seemed to desert him, like the light of a candlethat is blown out. Then the Princess would say, “He is of no use! Away with him out of the hall!”At last the turn came for that brother who knew the dictionaryby heart; but he did not know it now; he had absolutely forgotten italtogether; and the boards seemed to re-echo with his footsteps, andthe ceiling of the hall was made of looking-glass, so that he sawhimself standing on his head; and at the window stood three clerks and a head clerk, and every one of them was writing down every single word that was uttered, so that it might be printed in the newspapers, and sold for a penny at the street corners. It was a terrible ordeal, and they had, moreover, made such a fire in the stove, that the room seemed quite red hot.”It is dreadfully hot here!” observed the first brother.”Yes,” replied the Princess, “my father is going to roast youngpullets today.”"Baa!” there he stood like a baa-lamb. He had not been preparedfor a speech of this kind, and had not a word to say, though heintended to say something witty. “Baa!”"He is of no use!” said the Princess. “Away with him!”And he was obliged to go accordingly. And now the second brothercame in.”It is terribly warm here!” he observed.”Yes, we’re roasting pullets to-day,” replied the Princess.”What- what were you- were you pleased to ob-” stammered he- andall the clerks wrote down, “pleased to ob-”"He is of no use!” said the Princess. “Away with him!”Now came the turn of Jack the Dullard. He rode into the hall onhis goat.”Well, it’s most abominably hot here.”"Yes, because I’m roasting young pullets,” replied the Princess.”Ah, that’s lucky!” exclaimed Jack the Dullard, “for I supposeyou’ll let me roast my crow at the same time?”"With the greatest pleasure,” said the Princess. “But have youanything you can roast it in? for I have neither pot nor pan.”"Certainly I have!” said Jack. “Here’s a cooking utensil with atin handle.”And he brought out the old wooden shoe, and put the crow into it.”Well, that is a famous dish!” said the Princess. “But whatshall we do for sauce?”"Oh, I have that in my pocket,” said Jack; “I have so much of itthat I can afford to throw some away;” and he poured some of theclay out of his pocket.”I like that!” said the Princess. “You can give an answer, and youhave something to say for yourself, and so you shall be my husband.But are you aware that every word we speak is being taken down, andwill be published in the paper to-morrow? Look yonder, and you willsee in every window three clerks and a head clerk; and the old headclerk is the worst of all, for he can’t understand anything.”But she only said this to frighten Jack the Dullard; and theclerks gave a great crow of delight, and each one spurted a blot outof his pen on to the floor.”Oh, those are the gentlemen, are they?” said Jack; “then I willgive the best I have to the head clerk.” And he turned out hispockets, and flung the wet clay full in the head clerk’s face.”That was very cleverly done,” observed the Princess. “I could nothave done that; but I shall learn in time.”And accordingly Jack the Dullard was made a king, and received acrown and a wife, and sat upon a throne. And this report we have wetfrom the press of the head clerk and the corporation of printers-but they are not to be depended upon in the least.THE ENDLastIndexNextWritten By Anderson

THERE was once a sculptor, named Alfred, who having won thelarge gold medal and obtained a travelling scholarship, went to Italy,and then came back to his native land. He was young at that time-indeed, he is young still, although he is ten years older than hewas then. On his return, he went to visit one of the little towns inthe island of Zealand. The whole town knew who the stranger was; and one of the richest men in the place gave a party in his honor, and all who were of any consequence, or who possessed some property, were invited. It was quite an event, and all the town knew of it, so thatit was not necessary to announce it by beat of drum.Apprentice-boys, children of the poor, and even the poor peoplethemselves, stood before the house, watching the lighted windows;and the watchman might easily fancy he was giving a party also,there were so many people in the streets. There was quite an air offestivity about it, and the house was full of it; for Mr. Alfred,the sculptor, was there. He talked and told anecdotes, and every onelistened to him with pleasure, not unmingled with awe; but none feltso much respect for him as did the elderly widow of a naval officer.She seemed, so far as Mr. Alfred was concerned, to be like a pieceof fresh blotting-paper that absorbed all he said and asked formore. She was very appreciative, and incredibly ignorant- a kind offemale Gaspar Hauser.”I should like to see Rome,” she said; “it must be a lovelycity, or so many foreigners would not be constantly arriving there.Now, do give me a description of Rome. How does the city look when you enter in at the gate?”"I cannot very well describe it,” said the sculptor; “but youenter on a large open space, in the centre of which stands an obelisk,which is a thousand years old.”"An organist!” exclaimed the lady, who had never heard the word’obelisk.’ Several of the guests could scarcely forbear laughing,and the sculptor would have had some difficulty in keeping hiscountenance, but the smile on his lips faded away; for he caught sightof a pair of dark-blue eyes close by the side of the inquisitive lady.They belonged to her daughter; and surely no one who had such adaughter could be silly. The mother was like a fountain ofquestions; and the daughter, who listened but never spoke, mighthave passed for the beautiful maid of the fountain. How charming shewas! She was a study for the sculptor to contemplate, but not toconverse with; for she did not speak, or, at least, very seldom.”Has the pope a great family?” inquired the lady.The young man answered considerately, as if the question hadbeen a different one, “No; he does not come from a great family.”"That is not what I asked,” persisted the widow; “I mean, has he awife and children?”"The pope is not allowed to marry,” replied the gentleman.”I don’t like that,” was the lady’s remark.She certainly might have asked more sensible questions; but if shehad not been allowed to say just what she liked, would her daughterhave been there, leaning so gracefully on her shoulder, and lookingstraight before her, with a smile that was almost mournful on herface?Mr. Alfred again spoke of Italy, and of the glorious colors inItalian scenery; the purple hills, the deep blue of the Mediterranean,the azure of southern skies, whose brightness and glory could onlybe surpassed in the north by the deep-blue eyes of a maiden; and hesaid this with a peculiar intonation; but she who should haveunderstood his meaning looked quite unconscious of it, which alsowas charming.”Beautiful Italy!” sighed some of the guests.”Oh, to travel there!” exclaimed others.”Charming! Charming!” echoed from every voice.”I may perhaps win a hundred thousand dollars in the lottery,”said the naval officer’s widow; “and if I do, we will travel- I and mydaughter; and you, Mr. Alfred, must be our guide. We can all threetravel together, with one or two more of our good friends.” And shenodded in such a friendly way at the company, that each imaginedhimself to be the favored person who was to accompany them to Italy.”Yes, we must go,” she continued; “but not to those parts wherethere are robbers. We will keep to Rome. In the public roads one isalways safe.”The daughter sighed very gently; and how much there may be in asigh, or attributed to it! The young man attributed a great deal ofmeaning to this sigh. Those deep-blue eyes, which had been lit up thisevening in honor of him, must conceal treasures, treasures of heartand mind, richer than all the glories of Rome; and so when he left theparty that night, he had lost it completely to the young lady. Thehouse of the naval officer’s widow was the one most constantly visited by Mr. Alfred, the sculptor. It was soon understood that his visits were not intended for that lady, though they were the persons who kept up the conversation. He came for the sake of the daughter. They called her Kaela. Her name was really Karen Malena, and these two names had been contracted into the one name Kaela. She was really beautiful; but some said she was rather dull, and slept late of a morning. “She has been accustomed to that,” her mother said. “She is a beauty, and they are always easily tired. She does sleep ratherlate; but that makes her eyes so clear.”What power seemed to lie in the depths of those dark eyes! Theyoung man felt the truth of the proverb, “Still waters run deep:”and his heart had sunk into their depths. He often talked of hisadventures, and the mamma was as simple and eager in her questionsas on the first evening they met. It was a pleasure to hear Alfreddescribe anything. He showed them colored plates of Naples, andspoke of excursions to Mount Vesuvius, and the eruptions of firefrom it. The naval officer’s widow had never heard of them before.”Good heavens!” she exclaimed. “So that is a burning mountain; butis it not very dangerous to the people who live near it?”"Whole cities have been destroyed,” he replied; “for instance,Herculaneum and Pompeii.”"Oh, the poor people! And you saw all that with your own eyes?”"No; I did not see any of the eruptions which are represented inthose pictures; but I will show you a sketch of my own, whichrepresents an eruption I once saw.”He placed a pencil sketch on the table; and mamma, who had beenover-powered with the appearance of the colored plates, threw a glance at the pale drawing and cried in astonishment, “What, did you see it throw up white fire?”For a moment, Alfred’s respect for Kaela’s mamma underwent asudden shock, and lessened considerably; but, dazzled by the lightwhich surrounded Kaela, he soon found it quite natural that the oldlady should have no eye for color. After all, it was of very littleconsequence; for Kaela’s mamma had the best of all possessions;namely, Kaela herself.Alfred and Kaela were betrothed, which was a very naturalresult; and the betrothal was announced in the newspaper of the littletown. Mama purchased thirty copies of the paper, that she might cutout the paragraph and send it to friends and acquaintances. Thebetrothed pair were very happy, and the mother was happy too. She said it seemed like connecting herself with Thorwalsden.”You are a true successor of Thorwalsden,” she said to Alfred; andit seemed to him as if, in this instance, mamma had said a cleverthing. Kaela was silent; but her eyes shone, her lips smiled, everymovement was graceful,- in fact, she was beautiful; that cannot berepeated too often. Alfred decided to take a bust of Kaela as wellas of her mother. They sat to him accordingly, and saw how hemoulded and formed the soft clay with his fingers.”I suppose it is only on our account that you perform thiscommon-place work yourself, instead of leaving it to your servant todo all that sticking together.”"It is really necessary that I should mould the clay myself,” hereplied.”Ah, yes, you are always so polite,” said mamma, with a smile; andKaela silently pressed his hand, all soiled as it was with the clay.Then he unfolded to them both the beauties of Nature, in all herworks; he pointed out to them how, in the scale of creation, inanimatematter was inferior to animate nature; the plant above the mineral,the animal above the plant, and man above them all. He strove toshow them how the beauty of the mind could be displayed in the outward form, and that it was the sculptor’s task to seize upon that beauty of expression, and produce it in his works. Kaela stood silent, but nodded in approbation of what he said, while mamma-in-law made the following confession:-”It is difficult to follow you; but I go hobbling along afteryou with my thoughts, though what you say makes my head whirl round and round. Still I contrive to lay hold on some of it.”Kaela’s beauty had a firm hold on Alfred; it filled his soul,and held a mastery over him. Beauty beamed from Kaela’s every feature, glittered in her eyes, lurked in the corners of her mouth, andpervaded every movement of her agile fingers. Alfred, the sculptor,saw this. He spoke only to her, thought only of her, and the twobecame one; and so it may be said she spoke much, for he was always talking to her; and he and she were one. Such was the betrothal, and then came the wedding, with bride’s-maids and wedding presents, all duly mentioned in the wedding speech. Mamma-in-law had set up Thorwalsden’s bust at the end of the table, attired in a dressing-gown; it was her fancy that he should be a guest. Songs were sung, and cheers given; for it was a gay wedding, and they were a handsome pair. “Pygmalion loved his Galatea,” said one of the songs.”Ah, that is some of your mythologies,” said mamma-in-law.Next day the youthful pair started for Copenhagen, where they wereto live; mamma-in-law accompanied them, to attend to the “coarsework,” as she always called the domestic arrangements. Kaela lookedlike a doll in a doll’s house, for everything was bright and new,and so fine. There they sat, all three; and as for Alfred, a proverbmay describe his position- he looked like a swan amongst the geese.The magic of form had enchanted him; he had looked at the casketwithout caring to inquire what it contained, and that omission oftenbrings the greatest unhappiness into married life. The casket may beinjured, the gilding may fall off, and then the purchaser regretshis bargain.In a large party it is very disagreeable to find a button givingway, with no studs at hand to fall back upon; but it is worse still ina large company to be conscious that your wife and mother-in-law aretalking nonsense, and that you cannot depend upon yourself toproduce a little ready wit to carry off the stupidity of the wholeaffair.The young married pair often sat together hand in hand; he wouldtalk, but she could only now and then let fall a word in the samemelodious voice, the same bell-like tones. It was a mental relief whenSophy, one of her friends, came to pay them a visit. Sophy was not,pretty. She was, however, quite free from any physical deformity,although Kaela used to say she was a little crooked; but no eye,save an intimate acquaintance, would have noticed it. She was a verysensible girl, yet it never occurred to her that she might be adangerous person in such a house. Her appearance created a newatmosphere in the doll’s house, and air was really required, theyall owned that. They felt the want of a change of air, andconsequently the young couple and their mother travelled to Italy.”Thank heaven we are at home again within our own four walls,”said mamma-in-law and daughter both, on their return after a year’sabsence.”There is no real pleasure in travelling,” said mamma; “to tellthe truth, it’s very wearisome; I beg pardon for saying so. I was soonvery tired of it, although I had my children with me; and, besides,it’s very expensive work travelling, very expensive. And all thosegalleries one is expected to see, and the quantity of things you areobliged to run after! It must be done, for very shame; you are sure tobe asked when you come back if you have seen everything, and will most likely be told that you’ve omitted to see what was best worth seeing of all. I got tired at last of those endless Madonnas; I began tothink I was turning into a Madonna myself.”"And then the living, mamma,” said Kaela.”Yes, indeed,” she replied, “no such a thing as a respectable meatsoup- their cookery is miserable stuff.”The journey had also tired Kaela; but she was always fatigued,that was the worst of it. So they sent for Sophy, and she was takeninto the house to reside with them, and her presence there was a greatadvantage. Mamma-in-law acknowledged that Sophy was not only aclever housewife, but well-informed and accomplished, though thatcould hardly be expected in a person of her limited means. She wasalso a generous-hearted, faithful girl; she showed that thoroughlywhile Kaela lay sick, fading away. When the casket is everything,the casket should be strong, or else all is over. And all was overwith the casket, for Kaela died.”She was beautiful,” said her mother; “she was quite differentfrom the beauties they call ‘antiques,’ for they are so damaged. Abeauty ought to be perfect, and Kaela was a perfect beauty.”Alfred wept, and mamma wept, and they both wore mourning. Theblack dress suited mamma very well, and she wore mourning the longest.She had also to experience another grief in seeing Alfred marry again,marry Sophy, who was nothing at all to look at. “He’s gone to the very extreme,” said mamma-in-law; “he has gone from the most beautiful to the ugliest, and he has forgotten his first wife. Men have no constancy. My husband was a very different man,- but then he died before me.”"‘Pygmalion loved his Galatea,’ was in the song they sung at myfirst wedding,” said Alfred; “I once fell in love with a beautifulstatue, which awoke to life in my arms; but the kindred soul, which isa gift from heaven, the angel who can feel and sympathize with andelevate us, I have not found and won till now. You came, Sophy, not in the glory of outward beauty, though you are even fairer than isnecessary. The chief thing still remains. You came to teach thesculptor that his work is but dust and clay only, an outward form made of a material that decays, and that what we should seek to obtain is the ethereal essence of mind and spirit. Poor Kaela! our life was but as a meeting by the way-side; in yonder world, where we shall know each other from a union of mind, we shall be but mere acquaintances.”"That was not a loving speech,” said Sophy, “nor spoken like aChristian. In a future state, where there is neither marrying norgiving in marriage, but where, as you say, souls are attracted to eachother by sympathy; there everything beautiful develops itself, andis raised to a higher state of existence: her soul will acquire suchcompleteness that it may harmonize with yours, even more than mine,and you will then once more utter your first rapturous exclamationof your love, ‘Beautiful, most beautiful!’”THE ENDLastIndexNextWritten By Anderson

THE walls of the palace were formed of drifted snow, and the windows and doors of the cutting winds. There were more than a hundred rooms in it, all as if they had been formed with snow blown together. The largest of them extended for several miles; they were all lighted up by the vivid light of the aurora, and they were so large and empty, so icy cold and glittering! There were no amusements here, not even a little bear’s ball, when the storm might have been the music, and the bears could have danced on their hind legs, and shown their good manners. There were no pleasant games of snap-dragon, or touch, or even a gossip over the tea-table, for the young-lady foxes. Empty, vast, and cold were the halls of the Snow Queen. The flickering flame of the northern lights could be plainly seen, whether they rose high or low in the heavens, from every part of the castle. In the midst of its empty, endless hall of snow was a frozen lake, broken on its surface into a thousand forms; each piece resembled another, from being in itself perfect as a work of art, and in the centre of this lake sat the Snow Queen, when she was at home. She called the lake “The Mirror of Reason,” and said that it was the best, and indeed the only one in the world. Little Kay was quite blue with cold, indeed almost black, but he did not feel it; for the Snow Queen had kissed away the icy shiverings, and his heart was already a lump of ice. He dragged some sharp, flat pieces of ice to and fro, and placed them together in all kinds of positions, as if he wished to make something out of them; just as we try to form various figures with little tablets of wood which we call “a Chinese puzzle.” Kay’s fingers were very artistic; it was the icy game of reason at which he played, and in his eyes the figures were very remarkable, and of the highest importance; this opinion was owing to the piece of glass still sticking in his eye. He composed many complete figures, forming different words, but there was one word he never could manage to form, although he wished it very much. It was the word “Eternity.” The Snow Queen had said to him, “When you can find out this, you shall be your own master, and I will give you the whole world and a new pair of skates.” But he could not accomplish it. “Now I must hasten away to warmer countries,” said the Snow Queen. “I will go and look into the black craters of the tops of the burning mountains, Etna and Vesuvius, as they are called,— I shall make them look white, which will be good for them, and for the lemons and the grapes.” And away flew the Snow Queen, leaving little Kay quite alone in the great hall which was so many miles in length; so he sat and looked at his pieces of ice, and was thinking so deeply, and sat so still, that any one might have supposed he was frozen. Just at this moment it happened that little Gerda came through the great door of the castle. Cutting winds were raging around her, but she offered up a prayer and the winds sank down as if they were going to sleep; and she went on till she came to the large empty hall, and caught sight of Kay; she knew him directly; she flew to him and threw her arms round his neck, and held him fast, while she exclaimed, “Kay, dear little Kay, I have found you at last.” But he sat quite still, stiff and cold. Then little Gerda wept hot tears, which fell on his breast, and penetrated into his heart, and thawed the lump of ice, and washed away the little piece of glass which had stuck there. Then he looked at her, and she sang— “Roses bloom and cease to be,But we shall the Christ-child see.” Then Kay burst into tears, and he wept so that the splinter of glass swam out of his eye. Then he recognized Gerda, and said, joyfully, “Gerda, dear little Gerda, where have you been all this time, and where have I been?” And he looked all around him, and said, “How cold it is, and how large and empty it all looks,” and he clung to Gerda, and she laughed and wept for joy. It was so pleasing to see them that the pieces of ice even danced about; and when they were tired and went to lie down, they formed themselves into the letters of the word which the Snow Queen had said he must find out before he could be his own master, and have the whole world and a pair of new skates. Then Gerda kissed his cheeks, and they became blooming; and she kissed his eyes, and they shone like her own; she kissed his hands and his feet, and then he became quite healthy and cheerful. The Snow Queen might come home now when she pleased, for there stood his certainty of freedom, in the word she wanted, written in shining letters of ice. Then they took each other by the hand, and went forth from the great palace of ice. They spoke of the grandmother, and of the roses on the roof, and as they went on the winds were at rest, and the sun burst forth. When they arrived at the bush with red berries, there stood the reindeer waiting for them, and he had brought another young reindeer with him, whose udders were full, and the children drank her warm milk and kissed her on the mouth. Then they carried Kay and Gerda first to the Finland woman, where they warmed themselves thoroughly in the hot room, and she gave them directions about their journey home. Next they went to the Lapland woman, who had made some new clothes for them, and put their sleighs in order. Both the reindeer ran by their side, and followed them as far as the boundaries of the country, where the first green leaves were budding. And here they took leave of the two reindeer and the Lapland woman, and all said— Farewell. Then the birds began to twitter, and the forest too was full of green young leaves; and out of it came a beautiful horse, which Gerda remembered, for it was one which had drawn the golden coach. A young girl was riding upon it, with a shining red cap on her head, and pistols in her belt. It was the little robber-maiden, who had got tired of staying at home; she was going first to the north, and if that did not suit her, she meant to try some other part of the world. She knew Gerda directly, and Gerda remembered her: it was a joyful meeting. “You are a fine fellow to go gadding about in this way,” said she to little Kay, “I should like to know whether you deserve that any one should go to the end of the world to find you.” But Gerda patted her cheeks, and asked after the prince and princess. “They are gone to foreign countries,” said the robber-girl. “And the crow?” asked Gerda. “Oh, the crow is dead,” she replied; “his tame sweetheart is now a widow, and wears a bit of black worsted round her leg. She mourns very pitifully, but it is all stuff. But now tell me how you managed to get him back.” Then Gerda and Kay told her all about it. “Snip, snap, snare! it’s all right at last,” said the robber-girl. Then she took both their hands, and promised that if ever she should pass through the town, she would call and pay them a visit. And then she rode away into the wide world. But Gerda and Kay went hand-in-hand towards home; and as they advanced, spring appeared more lovely with its green verdure and its beautiful flowers. Very soon they recognized the large town where they lived, and the tall steeples of the churches, in which the sweet bells were ringing a merry peal as they entered it, and found their way to their grandmother’s door. They went upstairs into the little room, where all looked just as it used to do. The old clock was going “tick, tick,” and the hands pointed to the time of day, but as they passed through the door into the room they perceived that they were both grown up, and become a man and woman. The roses out on the roof were in full bloom, and peeped in at the window; and there stood the little chairs, on which they had sat when children; and Kay and Gerda seated themselves each on their own chair, and held each other by the hand, while the cold empty grandeur of the Snow Queen’s palace vanished from their memories like a painful dream. The grandmother sat in God’s bright sunshine, and she read aloud from 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 understood the words of the old song, “Roses bloom and cease to be,But we shall the Christ-child see.” And they both sat there, grown up, yet children at heart; and it was summer,— warm, beautiful summer.

1872FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSENLITTLE CLAUS AND BIG CLAUSby Hans Christian AndersenIN a village there once lived two men who had the same name.They were both called Claus. One of them had four horses, but theother had only one; so to distinguish them, people called the owner ofthe four horses, “Great Claus,” and he who had only one, “LittleClaus.” Now we shall hear what happened to them, for this is a truestory.Through the whole week, Little Claus was obliged to plough forGreat Claus, and lend him his one horse; and once a week, on a Sunday, Great Claus lent him all his four horses. Then how Little Claus would smack his whip over all five horses, they were as good as his own on that one day. The sun shone brightly, and the church bells were ringing merrily as the people passed by, dressed in their best clothes, with their prayer-books under their arms. They were going to hear the clergyman preach. They looked at Little Claus ploughing with his five horses, and he was so proud that he smacked his whip, and said, “Gee-up, my five horses.”"You must not say that,” said Big Claus; “for only one of thembelongs to you.” But Little Claus soon forgot what he ought to say,and when any one passed he would call out, “Gee-up, my five horses!”"Now I must beg you not to say that again,” said Big Claus; “forif you do, I shall hit your horse on the head, so that he will dropdead on the spot, and there will be an end of him.”"I promise you I will not say it any more,” said the other; but assoon as people came by, nodding to him, and wishing him “Good day,” he became so pleased, and thought how grand it looked to have five horses ploughing in his field, that he cried out again, “Gee-up, all my horses!”"I’ll gee-up your horses for you,” said Big Claus; and seizing ahammer, he struck the one horse of Little Claus on the head, and hefell dead instantly.”Oh, now I have no horse at all, said Little Claus, weeping. Butafter a while he took off the dead horse’s skin, and hung the hideto dry in the wind. Then he put the dry skin into a bag, and,placing it over his shoulder, went out into the next town to sellthe horse’s skin. He had a very long way to go, and had to passthrough a dark, gloomy forest. Presently a storm arose, and he losthis way, and before he discovered the right path, evening came on, and it was still a long way to the town, and too far to return home before night. Near the road stood a large farmhouse. The shutters outside the windows were closed, but lights shone through the crevices at the top.”I might get permission to stay here for the night,” thought LittleClaus; so he went up to the door and knocked. The farmer’s wife opened the door; but when she heard what he wanted, she told him to go away, as her husband would not allow her to admit strangers. “Then I shall be obliged to lie out here,” said Little Claus to himself, as the farmer’s wife shut the door in his face. Near to the farmhousestood a large haystack, and between it and the house was a small shed, with a thatched roof. “I can lie up there,” said Little Claus, as hesaw the roof; “it will make a famous bed, but I hope the stork willnot fly down and bite my legs;” for on it stood a living stork,whose nest was in the roof. So Little Claus climbed to the roof of theshed, and while he turned himself to get comfortable, he discoveredthat the wooden shutters, which were closed, did not reach to the tops of the windows of the farmhouse, so that he could see into a room, in which a large table was laid out with wine, roast meat, and asplendid fish. The farmer’s wife and the sexton were sitting at thetable together; and she filled his glass, and helped him plenteouslyto fish, which appeared to be his favorite dish. “If I could onlyget some, too,” thought Little Claus; and then, as he stretched hisneck towards the window he spied a large, beautiful pie,- indeedthey had a glorious feast before them.At this moment he heard some one riding down the road, towards thefarmhouse. It was the farmer returning home. He was a good man, but still he had a very strange prejudice,- he could not bear the sight of a sexton. If one appeared before him, he would put himself in aterrible rage. In consequence of this dislike, the sexton had goneto visit the farmer’s wife during her husband’s absence from home, and the good woman had placed before him the best she had in the house to eat. When she heard the farmer coming she was frightened, and begged the sexton to hide himself in a large empty chest that stood in the room. He did so, for he knew her husband could not endure the sight of a sexton. The woman then quickly put away the wine, and hid all the rest of the nice things in the oven; for if her husband had seen them he would have asked what they were brought out for. “Oh, dear,” sighed Little Claus from the top of the shed, as he saw all the good things disappear.”Is any one up there?” asked the farmer, looking up anddiscovering Little Claus. “Why are you lying up there? Come down,and come into the house with me.” So Little Claus came down and told the farmer how he had lost his way and begged for a night’s lodging.”All right,” said the farmer; “but we must have something to eatfirst.”The woman received them both very kindly, laid the cloth on alarge table, and placed before them a dish of porridge. The farmer was very hungry, and ate his porridge with a good appetite, but LittleClaus could not help thinking of the nice roast meat, fish and pies,which he knew were in the oven. Under the table, at his feet, laythe sack containing the horse’s skin, which he intended to sell at thenext town. Now Little Claus did not relish the porridge at all, sohe trod with his foot on the sack under the table, and the dry skinsqueaked quite loud. “Hush!” said Little Claus to his sack, at thesame time treading upon it again, till it squeaked louder than before.”Hallo! what have you got in your sack!” asked the farmer.”Oh, it is a conjuror,” said Little Claus; “and he says we neednot eat porridge, for he has conjured the oven full of roast meat,fish, and pie.”"Wonderful!” cried the farmer, starting up and opening the ovendoor; and there lay all the nice things hidden by the farmer’s wife,but which he supposed had been conjured there by the wizard underthe table. The woman dared not say anything; so she placed thethings before them, and they both ate of the fish, the meat, and thepastry.Then Little Claus trod again upon his sack, and it squeaked asbefore. “What does he say now?” asked the farmer.”He says,” replied Little Claus, “that there are three bottlesof wine for us, standing in the corner, by the oven.”So the woman was obliged to bring out the wine also, which she hadhidden, and the farmer drank it till he became quite merry. He wouldhave liked such a conjuror as Little Claus carried in his sack. “Couldhe conjure up the evil one?” asked the farmer. “I should like to seehim now, while I am so merry.”"Oh, yes!” replied Little Claus, “my conjuror can do anything Iask him,- can you not?” he asked, treading at the same time on thesack till it squeaked. “Do you hear? he answers ‘Yes,’ but he fearsthat we shall not like to look at him.”"Oh, I am not afraid. What will he be like?”"Well, he is very much like a sexton.”"Ha!” said the farmer, “then he must be ugly. Do you know I cannotendure the sight of a sexton. However, that doesn’t matter, I shallknow who it is; so I shall not mind. Now then, I have got up mycourage, but don’t let him come too near me.”"Stop, I must ask the conjuror,” said Little Claus; so he trodon the bag, and stooped his ear down to listen.”What does he say?”"He says that you must go and open that large chest which standsin the corner, and you will see the evil one crouching down inside;but you must hold the lid firmly, that he may not slip out.”"Will you come and help me hold it?” said the farmer, goingtowards the chest in which his wife had hidden the sexton, who now lay inside, very much frightened. The farmer opened the lid a verylittle way, and peeped in.”Oh,” cried he, springing backwards, “I saw him, and he is exactlylike our sexton. How dreadful it is!” So after that he was obligedto drink again, and they sat and drank till far into the night.”You must sell your conjuror to me,” said the farmer; “ask as muchas you like, I will pay it; indeed I would give you directly a wholebushel of gold.”"No, indeed, I cannot,” said Little Claus; “only think how muchprofit I could make out of this conjuror.”"But I should like to have him,” said the fanner, still continuinghis entreaties.”Well,” said Little Claus at length, “you have been so good asto give me a night’s lodging, I will not refuse you; you shall havethe conjuror for a bushel of money, but I will have quite fullmeasure.”"So you shall,” said the farmer; “but you must take away the chestas well. I would not have it in the house another hour; there is noknowing if he may not be still there.”So Little Claus gave the farmer the sack containing the driedhorse’s skin, and received in exchange a bushel of money- fullmeasure. The farmer also gave him a wheelbarrow on which to carry away the chest and the gold.”Farewell,” said Little Claus, as he went off with his money andthe great chest, in which the sexton lay still concealed. On oneside of the forest was a broad, deep river, the water flowed sorapidly that very few were able to swim against the stream. A newbridge had lately been built across it, and in the middle of thisbridge Little Claus stopped, and said, loud enough to be heard bythe sexton, “Now what shall I do with this stupid chest; it is asheavy as if it were full of stones: I shall be tired if I roll itany farther, so I may as well throw it in the river; if it swims afterme to my house, well and good, and if not, it will not much matter.”So he seized the chest in his hand and lifted it up a little, asif he were going to throw it into the water.”No, leave it alone,” cried the sexton from within the chest; “letme out first.”"Oh,” exclaimed Little Claus, pretending to be frightened, “heis in there still, is he? I must throw him into the river, that he maybe drowned.”"Oh, no; oh, no,” cried the sexton; “I will give you a wholebushel full of money if you will let me go.”Why, that is another matter,” said Little Claus, opening thechest. The sexton crept out, pushed the empty chest into the water,and went to his house, then he measured out a whole bushel full ofgold for Little Claus, who had already received one from the farmer,so that now he had a barrow full.”I have been well paid for my horse,” said he to himself when hereached home, entered his own room, and emptied all his money into a heap on the floor. “How vexed Great Claus will be when he finds out how rich I have become all through my one horse; but I shall nottell him exactly how it all happened.” Then he sent a boy to GreatClaus to borrow a bushel measure.”What can he want it for?” thought Great Claus; so he smearedthe bottom of the measure with tar, that some of whatever was put into it might stick there and remain. And so it happened; for when themeasure returned, three new silver florins were sticking to it.”What does this mean?” said Great Claus; so he ran off directly toLittle Claus, and asked, “Where did you get so much money?”"Oh, for my horse’s skin, I sold it yesterday.”"It was certainly well paid for then,” said Great Claus; and heran home to his house, seized a hatchet, and knocked all his fourhorses on the head, flayed off their skins, and took them to thetown to sell. “Skins, skins, who’ll buy skins?” he cried, as he wentthrough the streets. All the shoemakers and tanners came running,and asked how much he wanted for them.”A bushel of money, for each,” replied Great Claus.”Are you mad?” they all cried; “do you think we have money tospend by the bushel?”"Skins, skins,” he cried again, “who’ll buy skins?” but to all whoinquired the price, his answer was, “a bushel of money.”"He is making fools of us,” said they all; then the shoemakerstook their straps, and the tanners their leather aprons, and beganto beat Great Claus.”Skins, skins!” they cried, mocking him; “yes, we’ll mark yourskin for you, till it is black and blue.”"Out of the town with him,” said they. And Great Claus was obligedto run as fast as he could, he had never before been so thoroughlybeaten.”Ah,” said he, as he came to his house; “Little Claus shall pay mefor this; I will beat him to death.”Meanwhile the old grandmother of Little Claus died. She had beencross, unkind, and really spiteful to him; but he was very sorry,and took the dead woman and laid her in his warm bed to see if hecould bring her to life again. There he determined that she should liethe whole night, while he seated himself in a chair in a corner of theroom as he had often done before. During the night, as he sat there,the door opened, and in came Great Claus with a hatchet. He knewwell where Little Claus’s bed stood; so he went right up to it, andstruck the old grandmother on the head. thinking it must be LittleClaus.”There,” cried he, “now you cannot make a fool of me again;” andthen he went home.”That is a very wicked man,” thought Little Claus; “he meant tokill me. It is a good thing for my old grandmother that she wasalready dead, or he would have taken her life.” Then he dressed hisold grandmother in her best clothes, borrowed a horse of his neighbor,and harnessed it to a cart. Then he placed the old woman on the back seat, so that she might not fall out as he drove, and rode away through the wood. By sunrise they reached a large inn, where Little Claus stopped and went to get something to eat. The landlord was a rich man, and a good man too; but as passionate as if he had been made of pepper and snuff.”Good morning,” said he to Little Claus; “you are come betimesto-day.”"Yes,” said Little Claus; “I am going to the town with my oldgrandmother; she is sitting at the back of the wagon, but I cannotbring her into the room. Will you take her a glass of mead? but youmust speak very loud, for she cannot hear well.”"Yes, certainly I will,” replied the landlord; and, pouring outa glass of mead, he carried it out to the dead grandmother, who satupright in the cart. “Here is a glass of mead from your grandson,”said the landlord. The dead woman did not answer a word, but sat quite still. “Do you not hear?” cried the landlord as loud as he could;”here is a glass of mead from your grandson.”Again and again he bawled it out, but as she did not stir heflew into a passion, and threw the glass of mead in her face; itstruck her on the nose, and she fell backwards out of the cart, forshe was only seated there, not tied in.Hallo!” cried Little Claus, rushing out of the door, and seizinghold of the landlord by the throat; “you have killed my grandmother;see, here is a great hole in her forehead.”"Oh, how unfortunate,” said the landlord, wringing his hands.”This all comes of my fiery temper. Dear Little Claus, I will give youa bushel of money; I will bury your grandmother as if she were my own; only keep silent, or else they will cut off my head, and that would be disagreeable.”So it happened that Little Claus received another bushel of money,and the landlord buried his old grandmother as if she had been hisown. When Little Claus reached home again, he immediately sent a boy to Great Claus, requesting him to lend him a bushel measure. “How is this?” thought Great Claus; “did I not kill him? I must go and see for myself.” So he went to Little Claus, and took the bushel measure with him. “How did you get all this money?” asked Great Claus, staring with wide open eyes at his neighbor’s treasures.”You killed my grandmother instead of me,” said Little Claus;”so I have sold her for a bushel of money.”"That is a good price at all events,” said Great Claus. So he wenthome, took a hatchet, and killed his old grandmother with one blow.Then he placed her on a cart, and drove into the town to theapothecary, and asked him if he would buy a dead body.”Whose is it, and where did you get it?” asked the apothecary.”It is my grandmother,” he replied; “I killed her with a blow,that I might get a bushel of money for her.”"Heaven preserve us!” cried the apothecary, “you are out of yourmind. Don’t say such things, or you will lose your head.” And thenhe talked to him seriously about the wicked deed he had done, and told him that such a wicked man would surely be punished. Great Claus got so frightened that he rushed out of the surgery, jumped into the cart, whipped up his horses, and drove home quickly. The apothecary and all the people thought him mad, and let him drive where he liked.”You shall pay for this,” said Great Claus, as soon as he got intothe highroad, “that you shall, Little Claus.” So as soon as he reachedhome he took the largest sack he could find and went over to LittleClaus. “You have played me another trick,” said he. “First, I killedall my horses, and then my old grandmother, and it is all yourfault; but you shall not make a fool of me any more.” So he laidhold of Little Claus round the body, and pushed him into the sack,which he took on his shoulders, saying, “Now I’m going to drown you in the river.He had a long way to go before he reached the river, and LittleClaus was not a very light weight to carry. The road led by thechurch, and as they passed he could hear the organ playing and thepeople singing beautifully. Great Claus put down the sack close to thechurch-door, and thought he might as well go in and hear a psalmbefore he went any farther. Little Claus could not possibly get out ofthe sack, and all the people were in church; so in he went.”Oh dear, oh dear,” sighed Little Claus in the sack, as he turned and twisted about; but he found he could not loosen the string with which it was tied. Presently an old cattle driver, with snowy hair, passed by, carrying a large staff in his hand, with which he drove a large herd of cows and oxen before him. They stumbled against the sack in which lay Little Claus, and turned it over. “Oh dear,” sighed Little Claus, “I am very young, yet I am soon going to heaven.”"And I, poor fellow,” said the drover, “I who am so old already,cannot get there.”"Open the sack,” cried Little Claus; “creep into it instead of me,and you will soon be there.”"With all my heart,” replied the drover, opening the sack, fromwhich sprung Little Claus as quickly as possible. “Will you takecare of my cattle?” said the old man, as he crept into the bag.”Yes,” said Little Claus, and he tied up the sack, and then walkedoff with all the cows and oxen.When Great Claus came out of church, he took up the sack, andplaced it on his shoulders. It appeared to have become lighter, forthe old drover was not half so heavy as Little Claus.”How light he seems now,” said he. “Ah, it is because I havebeen to a church.” So he walked on to the river, which was deep andbroad, and threw the sack containing the old drover into the water,believing it to be Little Claus. “There you may lie!” he exclaimed;”you will play me no more tricks now.” Then he turned to go home,but when he came to a place where two roads crossed, there wasLittle Claus driving the cattle. “How is this?” said Great Claus. “DidI not drown you just now?”"Yes,” said Little Claus; “you threw me into the river abouthalf an hour ago.”"But wherever did you get all these fine beasts?” asked GreatClaus.”These beasts are sea-cattle,” replied Little Claus. “I’ll tellyou the whole story, and thank you for drowning me; I am above younow, I am really very rich. I was frightened, to be sure, while Ilay tied up in the sack, and the wind whistled in my ears when youthrew me into the river from the bridge, and I sank to the bottomimmediately; but I did not hurt myself, for I fell upon beautifullysoft grass which grows down there; and in a moment, the sack opened, and the sweetest little maiden came towards me. She had snow-white robes, and a wreath of green leaves on her wet hair. She took me by the hand, and said, ‘So you are come, Little Claus, and here are some cattle for you to begin with. About a mile farther on the road, there is another herd for you.’ Then I saw that the river formed a great highway for the people who live in the sea. They were walkingand driving here and there from the sea to the land at the, spot wherethe river terminates. The bed of the river was covered with theloveliest flowers and sweet fresh grass. The fish swam past me asrapidly as the birds do here in the air. How handsome all the peoplewere, and what fine cattle were grazing on the hills and in thevalleys!”"But why did you come up again,” said Great Claus, “if it wasall so beautiful down there? I should not have done so?”"Well,” said Little Claus, “it was good policy on my part; youheard me say just now that I was told by the sea-maiden to go a milefarther on the road, and I should find a whole herd of cattle. Bythe road she meant the river, for she could not travel any otherway; but I knew the winding of the river, and how it bends,sometimes to the right and sometimes to the left, and it seemed a longway, so I chose a shorter one; and, by coming up to the land, and then driving across the fields back again to the river, I shall save half amile, and get all my cattle more quickly.”"What a lucky fellow you are!” exclaimed Great Claus. “Do youthink I should get any sea-cattle if I went down to the bottom ofthe river?”"Yes, I think so,” said Little Claus; “but I cannot carry youthere in a sack, you are too heavy. However if you will go therefirst, and then creep into a sack, I will throw you in with thegreatest pleasure.”"Thank you,” said Great Claus; “but remember, if I do not getany sea-cattle down there I shall come up again and give you a goodthrashing.”"No, now, don’t be too fierce about it!” said Little Claus, asthey walked on towards the river. When they approached it, the cattle,who were very thirsty, saw the stream, and ran down to drink.”See what a hurry they are in,” said Little Claus, “they arelonging to get down again,”"Come, help me, make haste,” said Great Claus; “or you’ll getbeaten.” So he crept into a large sack, which had been lying acrossthe back of one of the oxen.”Put in a stone,” said Great Claus, “or I may not sink.”"Oh, there’s not much fear of that,” he replied; still he put alarge stone into the bag, and then tied it tightly, and gave it apush.”Plump!” In went Great Claus, and immediately sank to the bottomof the river.”I’m afraid he will not find any cattle,” said Little Claus, andthen he drove his own beasts homewards.THE ENDLastIndexNextWritten By Anderson

ONCE upon a time in the middle of winter2, when the flakes of snow were falling like feathers from the sky, a queen sat at a window sewing, and the frame of the window was made of black ebony. And whilst she was sewing and looking out of the window at the snow, she pricked her finger with the needle,3 and three drops of blood fell upon the snow. And the red looked pretty upon the white snow, and she thought to herself, “Would that I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as the wood4 of the window-frame.”Soon after that she had a little daughter, who was as white as snow, and as red as blood, and her hair was as black as ebony; and she was therefore called Little Snow-white5. And when the child was born, the Queen died.After a year had passed the King took to himself another wife6. She was a beautiful woman, but proud and haughty, and she could not bear that anyone else should surpass her in beauty. She had a wonderful looking-glass7, and when she stood in front of it and looked at herself in it, and said — “Looking-glass, Looking-glass, on the wall,Who in this land is the fairest of all?” the looking-glass answered8 — “Thou, O Queen, art the fairest of all!” Then she was satisfied, for she knew that the looking-glass spoke the truth.But Snow-white was growing up, and grew more and more beautiful; and when she was seven years old9 she was as beautiful as the day, and more beautiful than the Queen herself. And once when the Queen asked her looking-glass –”Looking-glass, Looking-glass, on the wall,Who in this land is the fairest of all?” it answered –”Thou art fairer than all who are here, Lady Queen.”But more beautiful still is Snow-white, as I ween.” Then the Queen was shocked, and turned yellow and green with envy. From that hour, whenever she looked at Snow-white, her heart heaved in her breast, she hated the girl so much.And envy and pride grew higher and higher in her heart like a weed, so that she had no peace day or night. She called a huntsman, and said, “Take the child away into the forest; I will no longer have her in my sight. Kill her, and bring me back her heart10 as a token.” The huntsman obeyed, and took her away; but when he had drawn his knife, and was about to pierce Snow-white’s innocent heart, she began to weep, and said, “Ah dear huntsman, leave me my life! I will run away into the wild forest, and never come home again.”And as she was so beautiful the huntsman had pity on her and said, “Run away, then, you poor child.” “The wild beasts will soon have devoured you,” thought he, and yet it seemed as if a stone had been rolled from his heart since it was no longer needful for him to kill her. And as a young boar11 just then came running by he stabbed it, and cut out its heart and took it to the Queen as proof that the child was dead. The cook had to salt this, and the wicked Queen ate it12, and thought she had eaten the heart of Snow-white.But now the poor child was all alone in the great forest13, and so terrified that she looked at every leaf of every tree, and did not know what to do. Then she began to run, and ran over sharp stones and through thorns, and the wild beasts ran past her, but did her no harm.She ran as long as her feet would go until it was almost evening; then she saw a little cottage and went into it to rest herself. Everything in the cottage was small, but neater and cleaner than can be told. There was a table on which was a white cover, and seven14 little plates, and on each plate a little spoon; moreover, there were seven little knives and forks, and seven little mugs. Against the wall stood seven little beds side by side, and covered with snow-white counterpanes.Little Snow-white was so hungry and thirsty that she ate some vegetables and bread from each plate and drank a drop of wine out of each mug, for she did not wish to take all from one only. Then, as she was so tired, she laid herself down on one of the little beds, but none of them suited her;15 one was too long, another too short, but at last she found that the seventh one was right, and so she remained in it, said a prayer and went to sleep.When it was quite dark the owners of the cottage came back; they were seven dwarfs16 who dug and delved in the mountains for ore. They lit their seven candles, and as it was now light within the cottage they saw that someone had been there, for everything was not in the same order in which they had left it.The first said, “Who has been sitting on my chair?”The second, “Who has been eating off my plate?”The third, “Who has been taking some of my bread?”The fourth, “Who has been eating my vegetables?”The fifth, “Who has been using my fork?”The sixth, “Who has been cutting with my knife?”The seventh, “Who has been drinking out of my mug?”Then the first looked round and saw that there was a little hole on his bed, and he said, “Who has been getting into my bed?” The others came up and each called out, “Somebody has been lying in my bed too.” But the seventh when he looked at his bed saw little Snow-white, who was lying asleep therein. And he called the others, who came running up, and they cried out with astonishment, and brought their seven little candles and let the light fall on little Snow-white. “Oh, heavens! oh, heavens!” cried they, “what a lovely child!” and they were so glad that they did not wake her up, but let her sleep on in the bed. And the seventh dwarf slept with his companions, one hour with each, and so got through the night.When it was morning little Snow-white awoke, and was frightened when she saw the seven dwarfs. But they were friendly and asked her what her name was. “My name is Snow-white,” she answered. “How have you come to our house?” said the dwarfs. Then she told them that her step-mother had wished to have her killed, but that the huntsman had spared her life, and that she had run for the whole day, until at last she had found their dwelling. The dwarfs said, “If you will take care of our house, cook, make the beds, wash, sew, and knit, and if you will keep everything neat and clean, you can stay with us and you shall want for nothing.” “Yes,” said Snow-white, “with all my heart,” and she stayed with them17. She kept the house in order for them; in the mornings they went to the mountains and looked for copper and gold, in the evenings they came back, and then their supper had to be ready. The girl was alone the whole day, so the good dwarfs warned her and said, “Beware of your step-mother, she will soon know that you are here; be sure to let no one come in.”But the Queen, believing that she had eaten Snow-white’s heart, could not but think that she was again the first and most beautiful of all; and she went to her looking-glass and said –”Looking-glass, Looking-glass, on the wall,Who in this land is the fairest of all?” and the glass answered –”Oh, Queen, thou art fairest of all I see,But over the hills, where the seven dwarfs dwell,Snow-white is still alive and well,And none is so fair as she.” Then she was astounded, for she knew that the looking-glass never spoke falsely, and she knew that the huntsman had betrayed her, and that little Snow-white was still alive.And so she thought and thought again how she might kill her, for so long as she was not the fairest in the whole land, envy let her have no rest. And when she had at last thought of something to do18, she painted her face, and dressed herself like an old pedler-woman, and no one could have known her. In this disguise she went over the seven mountains to the seven dwarfs, and knocked at the door and cried, “Pretty things to sell, very cheap, very cheap.” Little Snow-white looked out of the window and called out, “Good-day my good woman, what have you to sell?” “Good things, pretty things,” she answered; “stay-laces of all colours,” and she pulled out one which was braided from yellow, red, and blue silk19. “I may let the worthy old woman in,”20 thought Snow-white, and she unbolted the door and bought the pretty laces. “Child,” said the old woman, “what a fright you look; come, I will lace you properly for once.” Snow-white had no suspicion, but stood before her, and let herself be laced with the new laces. But the old woman laced so quickly and so tightly that Snow-white lost her breath and fell down as if dead21. “Now I am the most beautiful,” said the Queen to herself, and ran away.Not long afterwards, in the evening, the seven dwarfs came home, but how shocked they were when they saw their dear little Snow-white lying on the ground, and that she neither stirred nor moved, and seemed to be dead. They lifted her up, and, as they saw that she was laced too tightly, they cut the laces; then she began to breathe a little, and after a while came to life again. When the dwarfs heard what had happened they said, “The old pedler-woman was no one else than the wicked Queen; take care and let no one come in when we are not with you.”But the wicked woman when she had reached home went in front of the glass and asked — “Looking-glass, Looking-glass, on the wall,Who in this land is the fairest of all?” and it answered as before — “Oh, Queen, thou art fairest of all I see,But over the hills, where the seven dwarfs dwell,Snow-white is still alive and well,And none is so fair as she.” When she heard that, all her blood rushed to her heart with fear, for she saw plainly that little Snow-white was again alive. “But now,” she said, “I will think of something that shall put an end to you,” and by the help of witchcraft, which she understood, she made a poisonous comb22. Then she disguised herself and took the shape of another old woman. So she went over the seven mountains to the seven dwarfs, knocked at the door, and cried, “Good things to sell, cheap, cheap!” Little Snow-white looked out and said, “Go away; I cannot let any one come in.” “I suppose you can look,” said the old woman, and pulled the poisonous comb out and held it up. It pleased the girl so well that she let herself be beguiled, and opened the door. When they had made a bargain the old woman said, “Now I will comb you properly for once.” Poor little Snow-white had no suspicion, and let the old woman do as she pleased, but hardly had she put the comb in her hair than the poison in it took effect, and the girl fell down senseless. “You paragon of beauty,” said the wicked woman, “you are done for now,” and she went away.But fortunately it was almost evening, when the seven dwarfs came home. When they saw Snow-white lying as if dead upon the ground they at once suspected the step-mother, and they looked and found the poisoned comb. Scarcely had they taken it out when Snow-white came to herself, and told them what had happened. Then they warned her once more to be upon her guard and to open the door to no one.The Queen, at home, went in front of the glass and said — “Looking-glass, Looking-glass, on the wall,Who in this land is the fairest of all?” then it answered as before — “Oh, Queen, thou art fairest of all I see,But over the hills, where the seven dwarfs dwell,Snow-white is still alive and well,And none is so fair as she.” When she heard the glass speak thus she trembled and shook with rage. “Snow-white shall die,” she cried, “even if it costs me my life!”Thereupon she went into a quite secret, lonely room, where no one ever came, and there she made a very poisonous apple23. Outside it looked pretty, white with a red cheek, so that everyone who saw it longed for it; but whoever ate a piece of it must surely die.When the apple was ready she painted her face, and dressed herself up as a country-woman, and so she went over the seven mountains to the seven dwarfs. She knocked at the door. Snow-white put her head out of the window and said, “I cannot let any one in; the seven dwarfs have forbidden me.” “It is all the same to me,” answered the woman, “I shall soon get rid of my apples. There, I will give you one.”"No,” said Snow-white, “I dare not take anything.” “Are you afraid of poison?” said the old woman; “look, I will cut the apple in two pieces; you eat the red cheek, and I will eat the white.” The apple was so cunningly made that only the red cheek was poisoned. Snow-white longed for the fine apple, and when she saw that the woman ate part of it she could resist no longer, and stretched out her hand and took the poisonous half. But hardly had she a bit of it in her mouth than she fell down dead24. Then the Queen looked at her with a dreadful look, and laughed aloud and said, “White as snow, red as blood, black as ebony-wood! this time the dwarfs cannot wake you up again.”And when she asked of the Looking-glass at home — “Looking-glass, Looking-glass, on the wall,Who in this land is the fairest of all?” it answered at last –”Oh, Queen, in this land thou art fairest of all.” Then her envious heart had rest, so far as an envious heart can have rest.The dwarfs, when they came home in the evening, found Snow-white lying upon the ground; she breathed no longer and was dead25. They lifted her up, looked to see whether they could find anything poisonous, unlaced her, combed her hair, washed her with water and wine, but it was all of no use; the poor child was dead, and remained dead. They laid her upon a bier, and all seven of them sat round it and wept for her, and wept three days long.Then they were going to bury her, but she still looked as if she were living, and still had her pretty red cheeks. They said, “We could not bury her in the dark ground,” and they had a transparent coffin of glass26 made, so that she could be seen from all sides, and they laid her in it, and wrote her name upon it in golden letters, and that she was a king’s daughter. Then they put the coffin out upon the mountain, and one of them always stayed by it and watched it. And birds came too, and wept for Snow-white; first an owl, then a raven, and last a dove.And now Snow-white lay a long, long time in the coffin, and she did not change, but looked as if she were asleep; for she was as white as snow, as red as blood, and her hair was as black as ebony.It happened, however, that a king’s son27 came into the forest, and went to the dwarfs’ house to spend the night. He saw the coffin on the mountain, and the beautiful Snow-white within it, and read what was written upon it in golden letters. Then he said to the dwarfs, “Let me have the coffin, I will give you whatever you want for it.” But the dwarfs answered, “We will not part with it for all the gold in the world.” Then he said, “Let me have it as a gift, for I cannot live without seeing Snow-white. I will honour and prize her as my dearest possession.” As he spoke in this way the good dwarfs took pity upon him, and gave him the coffin.

NEAR the grass-covered rampart which encircles Copenhagen lies agreat red house. Balsams and other flowers greet us from the long rows of windows in the house, whose interior is sufficientlypoverty-stricken; and poor and old are the people who inhabit it.The building is the Warton Almshouse.Look! at the window there leans an old maid. She plucks thewithered leaf from the balsam, and looks at the grass-covered rampart, on which many children are playing. What is the old maid thinking of? A whole life drama is unfolding itself before her inward gaze. “The poor little children, how happy they are- how merrily theyplay and romp together! What red cheeks and what angels’ eyes! butthey have no shoes nor stockings. They dance on the green rampart,just on the place where, according to the old story, the ground alwayssank in, and where a sportive, frolicsome child had been lured bymeans of flowers, toys and sweetmeats into an open grave ready dug for it, and which was afterwards closed over the child; and from thatmoment, the old story says, the ground gave way no longer, the mound remained firm and fast, and was quickly covered with the green turf. The little people who now play on that spot know nothing of the old tale, else would they fancy they heard a child crying deep below the earth, and the dewdrops on each blade of grass would be to them tears of woe. Nor do they know anything of the Danish King who here, in the face of the coming foe, took an oath before all his trembling courtiers that he would hold out with the citizens of his capital, and die here in his nest; they know nothing of the men who have fought here, or of the women who from here have drenched with boiling water the enemy, clad in white, and ‘biding in the snow to surprise the city.”No! the poor little ones are playing with light, childishspirits. Play on, play on, thou little maiden! Soon the years willcome- yes, those glorious years. The priestly hands have been laidon the candidates for confirmation; hand in hand they walk on thegreen rampart. Thou hast a white frock on; it has cost thy mother much labor, and yet it is only cut down for thee out of an old largerdress! You will also wear a red shawl; and what if it hang too fardown? People will only see how large, how very large it is. You arethinking of your dress, and of the Giver of all good- so glorious isit to wander on the green rampart!”And the years roll by; they have no lack of dark days, but youhave your cheerful young spirit, and you have gained a friend- youknow not how. You met, oh, how often! You walk together on the rampart in the fresh spring, on the high days and holidays, when all the world come out to walk upon the ramparts, and all the bells of the church steeples seem to be singing a song of praise for the coming spring.”Scarcely have the violets come forth, but there on the rampart,just opposite the beautiful Castle of Rosenberg, there is a treebright with the first green buds. Every year this tree sends forthfresh green shoots. Alas! It is not so with the human heart! Darkmists, more in number than those that cover the northern skies,cloud the human heart. Poor child! thy friend’s bridal chamber is ablack coffin, and thou becomest an old maid. From the almshousewindow, behind the balsams, thou shalt look on the merry children atplay, and shalt see thine own history renewed.”And that is the life drama that passes before the old maid whileshe looks out upon the rampart, the green, sunny rampart, where thechildren, with their red cheeks and bare shoeless feet, arerejoicing merrily, like the other free little birds.THE ENDLastIndexNextWritten By Anderson

1872FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSENLITTLE IDA’S FLOWERSby Hans Christian Andersen”My poor flowers are quite dead,” said little Ida, “they were sopretty yesterday evening, and now all the leaves are hanging downquite withered. What do they do that for,” she asked, of the studentwho sat on the sofa; she liked him very much, he could tell the mostamusing stories, and cut out the prettiest pictures; hearts, andladies dancing, castles with doors that opened, as well as flowers; hewas a delightful student. “Why do the flowers look so faded to-day?”she asked again, and pointed to her nosegay, which was quite withered.”Don’t you know what is the matter with them?” said the student.”The flowers were at a ball last night, and therefore, it is no wonderthey hang their heads.”"But flowers cannot dance?” cried little Ida.”Yes indeed, they can,” replied the student. “When it growsdark, and everybody is asleep, they jump about quite merrily. Theyhave a ball almost every night.”"Can children go to these balls?”"Yes,” said the student, “little daisies and lilies of the valley.”"Where do the beautiful flowers dance?” asked little Ida.”Have you not often seen the large castle outside the gates of thetown, where the king lives in summer, and where the beautiful gardenis full of flowers? And have you not fed the swans with bread whenthey swam towards you? Well, the flowers have capital balls there,believe me.”"I was in the garden out there yesterday with my mother,” saidIda, “but all the leaves were off the trees, and there was not asingle flower left. Where are they? I used to see so many in thesummer.”"They are in the castle,” replied the student. “You must know thatas soon as the king and all the court are gone into the town, theflowers run out of the garden into the castle, and you should seehow merry they are. The two most beautiful roses seat themselves onthe throne, and are called the king and queen, then all the redcockscombs range themselves on each side, and bow, these are thelords-in-waiting. After that the pretty flowers come in, and thereis a grand ball. The blue violets represent little naval cadets, anddance with hyacinths and crocuses which they call young ladies. Thetulips and tiger-lilies are the old ladies who sit and watch thedancing, so that everything may be conducted with order andpropriety.”"But,” said little Ida, “is there no one there to hurt the flowersfor dancing in the king’s castle?”"No one knows anything about it,” said the student. “The oldsteward of the castle, who has to watch there at night, sometimescomes in; but he carries a great bunch of keys, and as soon as theflowers hear the keys rattle, they run and hide themselves behindthe long curtains, and stand quite still, just peeping their headsout. Then the old steward says, ‘I smell flowers here,’ but hecannot see them.”"Oh how capital,” said little Ida, clapping her hands. “Should Ibe able to see these flowers?”"Yes,” said the student, “mind you think of it the next time yougo out, no doubt you will see them, if you peep through the window.I did so to-day, and I saw a long yellow lily lying stretched out onthe sofa. She was a court lady.”"Can the flowers from the Botanical Gardens go to these balls?”asked Ida. “It is such a distance!”"Oh yes,” said the student ‘whenever they like, for they canfly. Have you not seen those beautiful red, white. and yellowbutterflies, that look like flowers? They were flowers once. They haveflown off their stalks into the air, and flap their leaves as ifthey were little wings to make them fly. Then, if they behave well,they obtain permission to fly about during the day, instead of beingobliged to sit still on their stems at home, and so in time theirleaves become real wings. It may be, however, that the flowers inthe Botanical Gardens have never been to the king’s palace, and,therefore, they know nothing of the merry doings at night, whichtake place there. I will tell you what to do, and the botanicalprofessor, who lives close by here, will be so surprised. You know him very well, do you not? Well, next time you go into his garden, you must tell one of the flowers that there is going to be a grand ball at the castle, then that flower will tell all the others, and they willfly away to the castle as soon as possible. And when the professorwalks into his garden, there will not be a single flower left. Howhe will wonder what has become of them!”"But how can one flower tell another? Flowers cannot speak?”"No, certainly not,” replied the student; “but they can makesigns. Have you not often seen that when the wind blows they nod atone another, and rustle all their green leaves?”"Can the professor understand the signs?” asked Ida.”Yes, to be sure he can. He went one morning into his garden,and saw a stinging nettle making signs with its leaves to abeautiful red carnation. It was saying, ‘You are so pretty, I like youvery much.’ But the professor did not approve of such nonsense, sohe clapped his hands on the nettle to stop it. Then the leaves,which are its fingers, stung him so sharply that he has never venturedto touch a nettle since.”"Oh how funny!” said Ida, and she laughed.”How can anyone put such notions into a child’s head?” said atiresome lawyer, who had come to pay a visit, and sat on the sofa.He did not like the student, and would grumble when he saw him cutting out droll or amusing pictures. Sometimes it would be a man hanging on a gibbet and holding a heart in his hand as if he had been stealing hearts. Sometimes it was an old witch riding through the air on a broom and carrying her husband on her nose. But the lawyer did not like such jokes, and he would say as he had just said, “How can anyone put such nonsense into a child’s head! what absurd fancies there are!”But to little Ida, all these stories which the student told herabout the flowers, seemed very droll, and she thought over them agreat deal. The flowers did hang their heads, because they had beendancing all night, and were very tired, and most likely they were ill.Then she took them into the room where a number of toys lay on apretty little table, and the whole of the table drawer besides wasfull of beautiful things. Her doll Sophy lay in the doll’s bed asleep,and little Ida said to her, “You must really get up Sophy, and becontent to lie in the drawer to-night; the poor flowers are ill, andthey must lie in your bed, then perhaps they will get well again.”So she took the doll out, who looked quite cross, and said not asingle word, for she was angry at being turned out of her bed. Idaplaced the flowers in the doll’s bed, and drew the quilt over them.Then she told them to lie quite still and be good, while she made some tea for them, so that they might be quite well and able to get upthe next morning. And she drew the curtains close round the littlebed, so that the sun might not shine in their eyes. During the wholeevening she could not help thinking of what the student had toldher. And before she went to bed herself, she was obliged to peepbehind the curtains into the garden where all her mother’s beautifulflowers grew, hyacinths and tulips, and many others. Then shewhispered to them quite softly, “I know you are going to a ballto-night.” But the flowers appeared as if they did not understand, andnot a leaf moved; still Ida felt quite sure she knew all about it. Shelay awake a long time after she was in bed, thinking how pretty itmust be to see all the beautiful flowers dancing in the king’s garden.”I wonder if my flowers have really been there,” she said toherself, and then she fell asleep. In the night she awoke; she hadbeen dreaming of the flowers and of the student, as well as of thetiresome lawyer who found fault with him. It was quite still inIda’s bedroom; the night-lamp burnt on the table, and her father andmother were asleep. “I wonder if my flowers are still lying in Sophy’sbed,” she thought to herself; “how much I should like to know.” Sheraised herself a little, and glanced at the door of the room where allher flowers and playthings lay; it was partly open, and as shelistened, it seemed as if some one in the room was playing thepiano, but softly and more prettily than she had ever before heard it.”Now all the flowers are certainly dancing in there,” she thought, “ohhow much I should like to see them,” but she did not dare move forfear of disturbing her father and mother. “If they would only comein here,” she thought; but they did not come, and the musiccontinued to play so beautifully, and was so pretty, that she couldresist no longer. She crept out of her little bed, went softly tothe door and looked into the room. Oh what a splendid sight therewas to be sure! There was no night-lamp burning, but the room appeared quite light, for the moon shone through the window upon the floor, and made it almost like day. All the hyacinths and tulips stood in two long rows down the room, not a single flower remained in the window, and the flower-pots were all empty. The flowers were dancing gracefully on the floor, making turns and holding each other by their long green leaves as they swung round. At the piano sat alarge yellow lily which little Ida was sure she had seen in thesummer, for she remembered the student saying she was very much like Miss Lina, one of Ida’s friends. They all laughed at him then, but now it seemed to little Ida as if the tall, yellow flower was reallylike the young lady. She had just the same manners while playing,bending her long yellow face from side to side, and nodding in time to the beautiful music. Then she saw a large purple crocus jump intothe middle of the table where the playthings stood, go up to thedoll’s bedstead and draw back the curtains; there lay the sickflowers, but they got up directly, and nodded to the others as asign that they wished to dance with them. The old rough doll, with thebroken mouth, stood up and bowed to the pretty flowers. They did not look ill at all now, but jumped about and were very merry, yet none of them noticed little Ida. Presently it seemed as if something fell from the table. Ida looked that way, and saw a slight carnival rodjumping down among the flowers as if it belonged to them; it was,however, very smooth and neat, and a little wax doll with a broadbrimmed hat on her head, like the one worn by the lawyer, sat upon it.The carnival rod hopped about among the flowers on its three redstilted feet, and stamped quite loud when it danced the Mazurka; theflowers could not perform this dance, they were too light to stampin that manner. All at once the wax doll which rode on the carnivalrod seemed to grow larger and taller, and it turned round and saidto the paper flowers, “How can you put such things in a child’shead? they are all foolish fancies;” and then the doll was exactlylike the lawyer with the broad brimmed hat, and looked as yellow andas cross as he did; but the paper dolls struck him on his thin legs,and he shrunk up again and became quite a little wax doll. This wasvery amusing, and Ida could not help laughing. The carnival rod wenton dancing, and the lawyer was obliged to dance also. It was no use,he might make himself great and tall, or remain a little wax doll witha large black hat; still he must dance. Then at last the other flowersinterceded for him, especially those who had lain in the doll’s bed,and the carnival rod gave up his dancing. At the same moment a loudknocking was heard in the drawer, where Ida’s doll Sophy lay with many other toys. Then the rough doll ran to the end of the table, laidhimself flat down upon it, and began to pull the drawer out a littleway.Then Sophy raised himself, and looked round quite astonished,”There must be a ball here to-night,” said Sophy. “Why did notsomebody tell me?”"Will you dance with me?” said the rough doll.”You are the right sort to dance with, certainly,” said she,turning her back upon him.Then she seated herself on the edge of the drawer, and thoughtthat perhaps one of the flowers would ask her to dance; but none ofthem came. Then she coughed, “Hem, hem, a-hem;” but for all that not one came. The shabby doll now danced quite alone, and not verybadly, after all. As none of the flowers seemed to notice Sophy, shelet herself down from the drawer to the floor, so as to make a verygreat noise. All the flowers came round her directly, and asked if shehad hurt herself, especially those who had lain in her bed. But shewas not hurt at all, and Ida’s flowers thanked her for the use ofthe nice bed, and were very kind to her. They led her into themiddle of the room, where the moon shone, and danced with her, while all the other flowers formed a circle round them. Then Sophy was very happy, and said they might keep her bed; she did not mind lying in the drawer at all. But the flowers thanked her very much, andsaid,-”We cannot live long. To-morrow morning we shall be quite dead;and you must tell little Ida to bury us in the garden, near to thegrave of the canary; then, in the summer we shall wake up and bemore beautiful than ever.”"No, you must not die,” said Sophy, as she kissed the flowers.Then the door of the room opened, and a number of beautifulflowers danced in. Ida could not imagine where they could come from, unless they were the flowers from the king’s garden. First came two lovely roses, with little golden crowns on their heads; these were the king and queen. Beautiful stocks and carnations followed, bowing to every one present. They had also music with them. Large poppies and peonies had pea-shells for instruments, and blew into them till they were quite red in the face. The bunches of blue hyacinths and thelittle white snowdrops jingled their bell-like flowers, as if theywere real bells. Then came many more flowers: blue violets, purpleheart’s-ease, daisies, and lilies of the valley, and they all dancedtogether, and kissed each other. It was very beautiful to behold.At last the flowers wished each other good-night. Then littleIda crept back into her bed again, and dreamt of all she had seen.When she arose the next morning, she went quickly to the little table,to see if the flowers were still there. She drew aside the curtains ofthe little bed. There they all lay, but quite faded; much more so thanthe day before. Sophy was lying in the drawer where Ida had placedher; but she looked very sleepy.”Do you remember what the flowers told you to say to me?” saidlittle Ida. But Sophy looked quite stupid, and said not a single word.”You are not kind at all,” said Ida; “and yet they all danced withyou.”Then she took a little paper box, on which were paintedbeautiful birds, and laid the dead flowers in it.”This shall be your pretty coffin,” she said; “and by and by, whenmy cousins come to visit me, they shall help me to bury you out in the garden; so that next summer you may grow up again more beautiful than ever.”Her cousins were two good-tempered boys, whose names were James and Adolphus. Their father had given them each a bow and arrow, and they had brought them to show Ida. She told them about the poor flowers which were dead; and as soon as they obtained permission, they went with her to bury them. The two boys walked first, with their crossbows on their shoulders, and little Ida followed, carrying the pretty box containing the dead flowers. They dug a little grave in the garden. Ida kissed her flowers and then laid them, with the box, in the earth. James and Adolphus then fired their crossbows over the grave, as they had neither guns nor cannons.THE ENDLastIndexNextWritten By Anderson

1872FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSENA CHEERFUL TEMPERby Hans Christian AndersenFROM my father I received the best inheritance, namely a “good temper.” “And who was my father?” That has nothing to do with the good temper; but I will say he was lively, good-looking round, and fat; he was both in appearance and character a complete contradiction to his profession. “And pray what was his profession and his standing in respectable society?” Well, perhaps, if in the beginning of a book these were written and printed, many, when they read it, would lay the book down and say, “It seems to me a very miserable title, I don’t like things of this sort.” And yet my father was not a skin-dresser nor an executioner; on the contrary, his employment placed him at the head of the grandest people of the town, and it was his place by right. He had to precede the bishop, and even the princes of the blood; he always went first,- he was a hearse driver!There, now, the truth is out. And I will own, that when people saw my father perched up in front of the omnibus of death, dressed in his long, wide, black cloak, and his black-edged, three-cornered hat on his head, and then glanced at his round, jocund face, round as the sun, they could not think much of sorrow or the grave. That face said, “It is nothing, it will all end better than people think.” So I have inherited from him, not only my good temper, but a habit of going often to the churchyard, which is good, when done in a proper humor; and then also I take in the Intelligencer, just as he used to do.I am not very young, I have neither wife nor children, nor a library, but, as I said, I read the Intelligencer, which is enough for me; it is to me a delightful paper, and so it was to my father. It is of great use, for it contains all that a man requires to know; the names of the preachers at the church, and the new books which are published; where houses, servants, clothes, and provisions may be obtained. And then what a number of subscriptions to charities, and what innocent verses! Persons seeking interviews and engagements, all so plainly and naturally stated. Certainly, a man who takes in the Intelligencer may live merrily and be buried contentedly, and by the end of his life will have such a capital stock of paper that he can lie on a soft bed of it, unless he prefers wood shavings for his resting-place. The newspaper and the churchyard were always exciting objects to me. My walks to the latter were like bathing-places to my good humor. Every one can read the newspaper for himself, but come with me to the churchyard while the sun shines and the trees are green, and let us wander among the graves. Each of them is like a closed book, with the back uppermost, on which we can read the title of what the book contains, but nothing more. I had a great deal of information from my father, and I have noticed a great deal myself. I keep it in my diary, in which I write for my own use and pleasure a history of all who lie here, and a few more beside.Now we are in the churchyard. Here, behind the white iron railings, once a rose-tree grew; it is gone now, but a little bit of evergreen, from a neighboring grave, stretches out its green tendrils,and makes some appearance; there rests a very unhappy man, and yet while he lived he might be said to occupy a very good position. He had enough to live upon, and something to spare; but owing to his refined tastes the least thing in the world annoyed him. If he went to a theatre of an evening, instead of enjoying himself he would be quite annoyed if the machinist had put too strong a light into one side of the moon, or if the representations of the sky hung over the scenes when they ought to have hung behind them; or if a palm-tree was introduced into a scene representing the Zoological Gardens of Berlin, or a cactus in a view of Tyrol, or a beech-tree in the north of Norway. As if these things were of any consequence! Why did he not leave them alone? Who would trouble themselves about such trifles? especially at a comedy, where every one is expected to be amused. Then sometimes the public applauded too much, or too little, to please him.”They are like wet wood,” he would say, looking round to see what sort of people were present, “this evening; nothing fires them.” Then he would vex and fret himself because they did not laugh at the right time, or because they laughed in the wrong places; and so he fretted and worried himself till at last the unhappy man fretted himself into the grave.Here rests a happy man, that is to say, a man of high birth and position, which was very lucky for him, otherwise he would have been scarcely worth notice. It is beautiful to observe how wisely nature orders these things. He walked about in a coat embroidered all over,and in the drawing-rooms of society looked just like one of those rich pearl-embroidered bell-pulls, which are only made for show; and behind them always hangs a good thick cord for use. This man also had a stout, useful substitute behind him, who did duty for him, and performed all his dirty work. And there are still, even now, these serviceable cords behind other embroidered bell-ropes. It is all so wisely arranged, that a man may well be in a good humor.Here rests,- ah, it makes one feel mournful to think of him!-but here rests a man who, during sixty-seven years, was never remembered to have said a good thing; he lived only in the hope of having a good idea. At last he felt convinced, in his own mind, that he really had one, and was so delighted that he positively died of joy at the thought of having at last caught an idea. Nobody got anything by it; indeed, no one even heard what the good thing was. Now I can imagine that this same idea may prevent him from resting quietly in his grave; for suppose that to produce a good effect, it is necessary to bring out his new idea at breakfast, and that he can only make his appearance on earth at midnight, as ghosts are believed generally to do; why then this good idea would not suit the hour, and the man would have to carry it down again with him into the grave- that must be a troubled grave.The woman who lies here was so remarkably stingy, that during her life she would get up in the night and mew, that her neighbors might think she kept a cat. What a miser she was!Here rests a young lady, of a good family, who would always make her voice heard in society, and when she sang “Mi manca la voce,”*it was the only true thing she ever said in her life.* “I want a voice,” or, “I have no voice.”Here lies a maiden of another description. She was engaged to be married,- but, her story is one of every-day life; we will leave her to rest in the grave.Here rests a widow, who, with music in her tongue, carried gall in her heart. She used to go round among the families near, and search out their faults, upon which she preyed with all the envy and malice of her nature. This is a family grave. The members of this family held so firmly together in their opinions, that they would believe in no other. If the newspapers, or even the whole world, said of a certain subject, “It is so-and-so;” and a little schoolboy declared he had learned quite differently, they would take his assertion as the only true one, because he belonged to the family. And it is well known that if the yard-cock belonging to this family happened to crow at midnight, they would declare it was morning, although the watchman and all the clocks in the town were proclaiming the hour of twelve at night.The great poet Goethe concludes his Faust with the words, “may be continued;” so might our wanderings in the churchyard be continued.I come here often, and if any of my friends, or those who are not my friends, are too much for me, I go out and choose a plot of ground in which to bury him or her. Then I bury them, as it were; there they lie, dead and powerless, till they come back new and better characters. Their lives and their deeds, looked at after my own fashion, I write down in my diary, as every one ought to do. Then, if any of our friends act absurdly, no one need to be vexed about it. Let them bury the offenders out of sight, and keep their good temper. They can also read the Intelligencer, which is a paper written by the people, with their hands guided. When the time comes for the history of my life, to be bound by the grave, then they will write upon it as my epitaph- “The man with a cheerful temper.”And this is my story.THE ENDIndexNextWritten By Anderson

AT a rich merchant’s house there was a children’s party, and thechildren of rich and great people were there. The merchant was alearned man, for his father had sent him to college, and he had passedhis examination. His father had been at first only a cattle dealer,but always honest and industrious, so that he had made money, andhis son, the merchant, had managed to increase his store. Clever as hewas, he had also a heart; but there was less said of his heart than ofhis money. All descriptions of people visited at the merchant’s house,well born, as well as intellectual, and some who possessed neitherof these recommendations.Now it was a children’s party, and there was children’s prattle,which always is spoken freely from the heart. Among them was abeautiful little girl, who was terribly proud; but this had beentaught her by the servants, and not by her parents, who were far toosensible people.Her father was groom of the Chambers, which is a high office atcourt, and she knew it. “I am a child of the court,” she said; now shemight just as well have been a child of the cellar, for no one canhelp his birth; and then she told the other children that she waswell-born, and said that no one who was not well-born could rise inthe world. It was no use to read and be industrious, for if a personwas not well-born, he could never achieve anything. “And those whose names end with ‘sen,’” said she, “can never be anything at all. We must put our arms akimbo, and make the elbow quite pointed, so as to keep these ‘sen’ people at a great distance.” And then she stuck out her pretty little arms, and made the elbows quite pointed, to show how it was to be done; and her little arms were very pretty, for she was a sweet-looking child.But the little daughter of the merchant became very angry atthis speech, for her father’s name was Petersen, and she knew that thename ended in “sen,” and therefore she said as proudly as she could,”But my papa can buy a hundred dollars’ worth of bonbons, and givethem away to children. Can your papa do that?”"Yes; and my papa,” said the little daughter of the editor of apaper, “my papa can put your papa and everybody’s papa into thenewspaper. All sorts of people are afraid of him, my mamma says, for he can do as he likes with the paper.” And the little maiden lookedexceedingly proud, as if she had been a real princess, who may beexpected to look proud.But outside the door, which stood ajar, was a poor boy, peepingthrough the crack of the door. He was of such a lowly station thathe had not been allowed even to enter the room. He had been turningthe spit for the cook, and she had given him permission to standbehind the door and peep in at the well-dressed children, who werehaving such a merry time within; and for him that was a great deal.”Oh, if I could be one of them,” thought he, and then he heard whatwas said about names, which was quite enough to make him more unhappy.His parents at home had not even a penny to spare to buy anewspaper, much less could they write in one; and worse than all,his father’s name, and of course his own, ended in “sen,” andtherefore he could never turn out well, which was a very sadthought. But after all, he had been born into the world, and thestation of life had been chosen for him, therefore he must be content.And this is what happened on that evening.Many years passed, and most of the children became grown-uppersons.There stood a splendid house in the town, filled with all kinds ofbeautiful and valuable objects. Everybody wished to see it, and people even came in from the country round to be permitted to view the treasures it contained.Which of the children whose prattle we have described, couldcall this house his own? One would suppose it very easy to guess.No, no; it is not so very easy. The house belonged to the poorlittle boy who had stood on that night behind the door. He hadreally become something great, although his name ended in “sen,”-for it was Thorwaldsen.And the three other children- the children of good birth, ofmoney, and of intellectual pride,- well, they were respected andhonored in the world, for they had been well provided for by birth and position, and they had no cause to reproach themselves with what they had thought and spoken on that evening long ago, for, afterall, it was mere “children’s prattle.”THE ENDLastIndexNextWritten By Anderson