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IN the garden all the apple-trees were in blossom. They hadhastened to bring forth flowers before they got green leaves, and inthe yard all the ducklings walked up and down, and the cat too: itbasked in the sun and licked the sunshine from its own paws. Andwhen one looked at the fields, how beautifully the corn stood andhow green it shone, without comparison! and there was a twittering and a fluttering of all the little birds, as if the day were a greatfestival; and so it was, for it was Sunday. All the bells wereringing, and all the people went to church, looking cheerful, anddressed in their best clothes. There was a look of cheerfulness oneverything. The day was so warm and beautiful that one might well have said: “God’s kindness to us men is beyond all limits.” But insidethe church the pastor stood in the pulpit, and spoke very loudly andangrily. He said that all men were wicked, and God would punish them for their sins, and that the wicked, when they died, would be cast into hell, to burn for ever and ever. He spoke very excitedly,saying that their evil propensities would not be destroyed, norwould the fire be extinguished, and they should never find rest.That was terrible to hear, and he said it in such a tone ofconviction; he described hell to them as a miserable hole where allthe refuse of the world gathers. There was no air beside the hotburning sulphur flame, and there was no ground under their feet; they,the wicked ones, sank deeper and deeper, while eternal silencesurrounded them! It was dreadful to hear all that, for the preacherspoke from his heart, and all the people in the church were terrified.Meanwhile, the birds sang merrily outside, and the sun was shiningso beautifully warm, it seemed as though every little flower said:”God, Thy kindness towards us all is without limits.” Indeed,outside it was not at all like the pastor’s sermon.The same evening, upon going to bed, the pastor noticed his wifesitting there quiet and pensive.”What is the matter with you?” he asked her.”Well, the matter with me is,” she said, “that I cannot collect mythoughts, and am unable to grasp the meaning of what you said to-day in church- that there are so many wicked people, and that theyshould burn eternally. Alas! eternally- how long! I am only a womanand a sinner before God, but I should not have the heart to let eventhe worst sinner burn for ever, and how could our Lord to do so, who is so infinitely good, and who knows how the wickedness comes from without and within? No, I am unable to imagine that, although you say so.”It was autumn; the trees dropped their leaves, the earnest andsevere pastor sat at the bedside of a dying person. A pious,faithful soul closed her eyes for ever; she was the pastor’s wife….”If any one shall find rest in the grave and mercy before ourLord you shall certainly do so,” said the pastor. He folded herhands and read a psalm over the dead woman.She was buried; two large tears rolled over the cheeks of theearnest man, and in the parsonage it was empty and still, for itssun had set for ever. She had gone home.It was night. A cold wind swept over the pastor’s head; heopened his eyes, and it seemed to him as if the moon was shininginto his room. It was not so, however; there was a being standingbefore his bed, and looking like the ghost of his deceased wife. Shefixed her eyes upon him with such a kind and sad expression, just asif she wished to say something to him. The pastor raised himself inbed and stretched his arms towards her, saying, “Not even you can find eternal rest! You suffer, you best and most pious woman?”The dead woman nodded her head as if to say “Yes,” and put herhand on her breast.”And can I not obtain rest in the grave for you?”"Yes,” was the answer.”And how?”"Give me one hair- only one single hair- from the head of thesinner for whom the fire shall never be extinguished, of the sinnerwhom God will condemn to eternal punishment in hell.”"Yes, one ought to be able to redeem you so easily, you pure,pious woman,” he said.”Follow me,” said the dead woman. “It is thus granted to us. By myside you will be able to fly wherever your thoughts wish to go.Invisible to men, we shall penetrate into their most secretchambers; but with sure hand you must find out him who is destinedto eternal torture, and before the cock crows he must be found!” Asquickly as if carried by the winged thoughts they were in the greatcity, and from the walls the names of the deadly sins shone in flamingletters: pride, avarice, drunkenness, wantonness- in short, thewhole seven-coloured bow of sin.”Yes, therein, as I believed, as I knew it,” said the pastor, “areliving those who are abandoned to the eternal fire.” And they werestanding before the magnificently illuminated gate; the broad stepswere adorned with carpets and flowers, and dance music was sounding through the festive halls. A footman dressed in silk and velvet stood with a large silver-mounted rod near the entrance.”Our ball can compare favourably with the king’s,” he said, andturned with contempt towards the gazing crowd in the street. What hethought was sufficiently expressed in his features and movements:”Miserable beggars, who are looking in, you are nothing incomparison to me.”"Pride,” said the dead woman; “do you see him?”"The footman?” asked the pastor. “He is but a poor fool, and notdoomed to be tortured eternally by fire!”"Only a fool!” It sounded through the whole house of pride: theywere all fools there.Then they flew within the four naked walls of the miser. Lean as askeleton, trembling with cold, and hunger, the old man was clingingwith all his thoughts to his money. They saw him jump up feverishlyfrom his miserable couch and take a loose stone out of the wall; therelay gold coins in an old stocking. They saw him anxiously feeling over an old ragged coat in which pieces of gold were sewn, and his clammy fingers trembled.”He is ill! That is madness- a joyless madness- besieged by fearand dreadful dreams!”They quickly went away and came before the beds of thecriminals; these unfortunate people slept side by side, in longrows. Like a ferocious animal, one of them rose out of his sleep anduttered a horrible cry, and gave his comrade a violent dig in the ribswith his pointed elbow, and this one turned round in his sleep:”Be quiet, monster- sleep! This happens every night!”"Every night!” repeated the other. “Yes, every night he comesand tortures me! In my violence I have done this and that. I wasborn with an evil mind, which has brought me hither for the secondtime; but if I have done wrong I suffer punishment for it. Onething, however, I have not yet confessed. When I came out a littlewhile ago, and passed by the yard of my former master, evil thoughtsrose within me when I remembered this and that. I struck a match alittle bit on the wall; probably it came a little too close to thethatched roof. All burnt down- a great heat rose, such as sometimesovercomes me. I myself helped to rescue cattle and things, nothingalive burnt, except a flight of pigeons, which flew into the fire, andthe yard dog, of which I had not thought; one could hear him howlout of the fire, and this howling I still hear when I wish to sleep;and when I have fallen asleep, the great rough dog comes and placeshimself upon me, and howls, presses, and tortures me. Now listen towhat I tell you! You can snore; you are snoring the whole night, and Ihardly a quarter of an hour!” And the blood rose to the head of theexcited criminal; he threw himself upon his comrade, and beat him with his clenced fist in the face.”Wicked Matz has become mad again!” they said amongstthemselves. The other criminals seized him, wrestled with him, andbent him double, so that his head rested between his knees, and theytied him, so that the blood almost came out of his eyes and out of allhis pores.”You are killing the unfortunate man,” said the pastor, and ashe stretched out his hand to protect him who already suffered toomuch, the scene changed. They flew through rich halls and wretchedhovels; wantonness and envy, all the deadly sins, passed beforethem. An angel of justice read their crimes and their defence; thelatter was not a brilliant one, but it was read before God, Whoreads the heart, Who knows everything, the wickedness that comesfrom within and from without, Who is mercy and love personified. The pastor’s hand trembled; he dared not stretch it out, he did notventure to pull a hair out of the sinner’s head. And tears gushed fromhis eyes like a stream of mercy and love, the cooling waters ofwhich extinguished the eternal fire of hell.Just then the cock crowed.”Father of all mercy, grant Thou to her the peace that I wasunable to procure for her!”"I have it now!” said the dead woman. “It was your hard words,your despair of mankind, your gloomy belief in God and His creation,which drove me to you. Learn to know mankind! Even in the wicked one lives a part of God- and this extinguishes and conquers the flame of hell!”The pastor felt a kiss on his lips; a gleam of light surroundedhim- God’s bright sun shone into the room, and his wife, alive,sweet and full of love, awoke him from a dream which God had sent him!THE ENDLastIndexNextWritten By Anderson

THE coach drove on through a thick forest, where it lighted up the way like a torch, and dazzled the eyes of some robbers, who could not bear to let it pass them unmolested. “It is gold! it is gold!” cried they, rushing forward, and seizing the horses. Then they struck the little jockeys, the coachman, and the footman dead, and pulled little Gerda out of the carriage. “She is fat and pretty, and she has been fed with the kernels of nuts,” said the old robber-woman, who had a long beard and eyebrows that hung over her eyes. “She is as good as a little lamb; how nice she will taste!” and as she said this, she drew forth a shining knife, that glittered horribly. “Oh!” screamed the old woman the same moment; for her own daughter, who held her back, had bitten her in the ear. She was a wild and naughty girl, and the mother called her an ugly thing, and had not time to kill Gerda. “She shall play with me,” said the little robber-girl; “she shall give me her muff and her pretty dress, and sleep with me in my bed.” And then she bit her mother again, and made her spring in the air, and jump about; and all the robbers laughed, and said, “See how she is dancing with her young cub.” “I will have a ride in the coach,” said the little robber-girl; and she would have her own way; for she was so self-willed and obstinate. She and Gerda seated themselves in the coach, and drove away, over stumps and stones, into the depths of the forest. The little robber-girl was about the same size as Gerda, but stronger; she had broader shoulders and a darker skin; her eyes were quite black, and she had a mournful look. She clasped little Gerda round the waist, and said,— “They shall not kill you as long as you don’t make us vexed with you. I suppose you are a princess.” “No,” said Gerda; and then she told her all her history, and how fond she was of little Kay. The robber-girl looked earnestly at her, nodded her head slightly, and said, “They sha’nt kill you, even if I do get angry with you; for I will do it myself.” And then she wiped Gerda’s eyes, and stuck her own hands in the beautiful muff which was so soft and warm. The coach stopped in the courtyard of a robber’s castle, the walls of which were cracked from top to bottom. Ravens and crows flew in and out of the holes and crevices, while great bulldogs, either of which looked as if it could swallow a man, were jumping about; but they were not allowed to bark. In the large and smoky hall a bright fire was burning on the stone floor. There was no chimney; so the smoke went up to the ceiling, and found a way out for itself. Soup was boiling in a large cauldron, and hares and rabbits were roasting on the spit. “You shall sleep with me and all my little animals to-night,” said the robber-girl, after they had had something to eat and drink. So she took Gerda to a corner of the hall, where some straw and carpets were laid down. Above them, on laths and perches, were more than a hundred pigeons, who all seemed to be asleep, although they moved slightly when the two little girls came near them. “These all belong to me,” said the robber-girl; and she seized the nearest to her, held it by the feet, and shook it till it flapped its wings. “Kiss it,” cried she, flapping it in Gerda’s face. “There sit the wood-pigeons,” continued she, pointing to a number of laths and a cage which had been fixed into the walls, near one of the openings. “Both rascals would fly away directly, if they were not closely locked up. And here is my old sweetheart ‘Ba;’” and she dragged out a reindeer by the horn; he wore a bright copper ring round his neck, and was tied up. “We are obliged to hold him tight too, or else he would run away from us also. I tickle his neck every evening with my sharp knife, which frightens him very much.” And then the robber-girl drew a long knife from a chink in the wall, and let it slide gently over the reindeer’s neck. The poor animal began to kick, and the little robber-girl laughed, and pulled down Gerda into bed with her. “Will you have that knife with you while you are asleep?” asked Gerda, looking at it in great fright. “I always sleep with the knife by me,” said the robber-girl. “No one knows what may happen. But now tell me again all about little Kay, and why you went out into the world.” Then Gerda repeated her story over again, while the wood-pigeons in the cage over her cooed, and the other pigeons slept. The little robber-girl put one arm across Gerda’s neck, and held the knife in the other, and was soon fast asleep and snoring. But Gerda could not close her eyes at all; she knew not whether she was to live or die. The robbers sat round the fire, singing and drinking, and the old woman stumbled about. It was a terrible sight for a little girl to witness. Then the wood-pigeons said, “Coo, coo; we have seen little Kay. A white fowl carried his sledge, and he sat in the carriage of the Snow Queen, which drove through the wood while we were lying in our nest. She blew upon us, and all the young ones died excepting us two. Coo, coo.” “What are you saying up there?” cried Gerda. “Where was the Snow Queen going? Do you know anything about it?” “She was most likely travelling to Lapland, where there is always snow and ice. Ask the reindeer that is fastened up there with a rope.” “Yes, there is always snow and ice,” said the reindeer; “and it is a glorious place; you can leap and run about freely on the sparkling ice plains. The Snow Queen has her summer tent there, but her strong castle is at the North Pole, on an island called Spitzbergen.” “Oh, Kay, little Kay!” sighed Gerda. “Lie still,” said the robber-girl, “or I shall run my knife into your body.” In the morning Gerda told her all that the wood-pigeons had said; and the little robber-girl looked quite serious, and nodded her head, and said, “That is all talk, that is all talk. Do you know where Lapland is?” she asked the reindeer. “Who should know better than I do?” said the animal, while his eyes sparkled. “I was born and brought up there, and used to run about the snow-covered plains.” “Now listen,” said the robber-girl; “all our men are gone away,— only mother is here, and here she will stay; but at noon she always drinks out of a great bottle, and afterwards sleeps for a little while; and then, I’ll do something for you.” Then she jumped out of bed, clasped her mother round the neck, and pulled her by the beard, crying, “My own little nanny goat, good morning.” Then her mother filliped her nose till it was quite red; yet she did it all for love. When the mother had drunk out of the bottle, and was gone to sleep, the little robber-maiden went to the reindeer, and said, “I should like very much to tickle your neck a few times more with my knife, for it makes you look so funny; but never mind,— I will untie your cord, and set you free, so that you may run away to Lapland; but you must make good use of your legs, and carry this little maiden to the castle of the Snow Queen, where her play-fellow is. You have heard what she told me, for she spoke loud enough, and you were listening.” Then the reindeer jumped for joy; and the little robber-girl lifted Gerda on his back, and had the forethought to tie her on, and even to give her her own little cushion to sit on. “Here are your fur boots for you,” said she; “for it will be very cold; but I must keep the muff; it is so pretty. However, you shall not be frozen for the want of it; here are my mother’s large warm mittens; they will reach up to your elbows. Let me put them on. There, now your hands look just like my mother’s.” But Gerda wept for joy. “I don’t like to see you fret,” said the little robber-girl; “you ought to look quite happy now; and here are two loaves and a ham, so that you need not starve.” These were fastened on the reindeer, and then the little robber-maiden opened the door, coaxed in all the great dogs, and then cut the string with which the reindeer was fastened, with her sharp knife, and said, “Now run, but mind you take good care of the little girl.” And then Gerda stretched out her hand, with the great mitten on it, towards the little robber-girl, and said, “Farewell,” and away flew the reindeer, over stumps and stones, through the great forest, over marshes and plains, as quickly as he could. The wolves howled, and the ravens screamed; while up in the sky quivered red lights like flames of fire. “There are my old northern lights,” said the reindeer; “see how they flash.” And he ran on day and night still faster and faster, but the loaves and the ham were all eaten by the time they reached Lapland.

1872FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSENIN THE UTTERMOST PARTS OF THE SEAby Hans Christian AndersenSOME years ago, large ships were sent towards the north pole, toexplore the distant coasts, and to try how far men could penetrateinto those unknown regions. For more than a year one of these shipshad been pushing its way northward, amid snow and ice, and the sailors had endured many hardships; till at length winter set in, and thesun entirely disappeared; for many weeks there would be constantnight. All around, as far as the eye could reach, nothing could beseen but fields of ice, in which the ship remained stuck fast. Thesnow lay piled up in great heaps, and of these the sailors madehuts, in the form of bee-hives, some of them as large and spaciousas one of the “Huns’ graves,” and others only containing room enough to hold three or four men. It was not quite dark; the northernlights shot forth red and blue flames, like continuous fireworks,and the snow glittered, and reflected back the light, so that thenight here was one long twilight. When the moon was brightest, thenatives came in crowds to see the sailors. They had a very singularappearance in their rough, hairy dresses of fur, and riding in sledgesover the ice. They brought with them furs and skins in greatabundance, so that the snow-houses were soon provided with warmcarpets, and the furs also served for the sailors to wrap themselvesin, when they slept under the roofs of snow, while outside it wasfreezing with a cold far more severe than in the winter with us. Inour country it was still autumn, though late in the season; and theythought of that in their distant exile, and often pictured tothemselves the yellow leaves on the trees at home. Their watchespointed to the hours of evening, and time to go to sleep, althoughin these regions it was now always night.In one of the huts, two of the men laid themselves down to rest.The younger of these men had brought with him from home his best,his dearest treasure- a Bible, which his grandmother had given himon his departure. Every night the sacred volume rested under his head, and he had known from his childhood what was written in it. Every day he read in the book, and while stretched on his cold couch, the holy words he had learnt would come into his mind: “If I take thewings of the morning, and fly to the uttermost parts of the sea,even there Thou art with me, and Thy right hand shall uphold me;”and under the influence of that faith which these holy words inspired,sleep came upon him, and dreams, which are the manifestations of God to the spirit. The soul lives and acts, while the body is at rest.He felt this life in him, and it was as if he heard the sound of dear,well-known melodies, as if the breezes of summer floated around him;and over his couch shone a ray of brightness, as if it were shiningthrough the covering of his snow-roof. He lifted his head, and sawthat the bright gleaming was not the reflection of the glitteringsnow, but the dazzling brightness of the pinions of a mighty angel,into whose beaming face he was gazing. As from the cup of a lily,the angel rose from amidst the leaves of the Bible; and, stretchingout his arm, the walls of the hut sunk down, as though they had beenformed of a light, airy veil of mist, and the green hills andmeadows of home, with its ruddy woods, lay spread around him in the quiet sunshine of a lovely autumn day. The nest of the stork wasempty, but ripe fruit still hung on the wild apple-tree, althoughthe leaves had fallen. The red hips gleamed on the hedges, and thestarling which hung in the green cage outside the window of thepeasant’s hut, which was his home, whistled the tune which he hadtaught him. His grandmother hung green birds’-food around the cage, as he, her grandson, had been accustomed to do. The daughter of thevillage blacksmith, who was young and fair, stood at the well, drawingwater. She nodded to the grandmother, and the old woman nodded to her, and pointed to a letter which had come from a long way off. Thatvery morning the letter had arrived from the cold regions of thenorth; there, where the absent one was sweetly sleeping under theprotecting hand of God. They laughed and wept over the letter; and he, far away, amid ice and snow, under the shadow of the angel’s wings, wept and smiled with them in spirit; for he saw and heard it all in his dream. From the letter they read aloud the words of Holy Writ: “In the uttermost parts of the sea, Thy right hand shall uphold me.” And as the angel spread his wings like a veil over the sleeper, therewas the sound of beautiful music and a hymn. Then the vision fled.It was dark again in the snow-hut: but the Bible still restedbeneath his head, and faith and hope dwelt in his heart. God waswith him, and he carried home in his heart, even “in the uttermostparts of the sea.THE ENDLastIndexNextWritten By Anderson

ANNE LISBETH was a beautiful young woman, with a red and whitecomplexion, glittering white teeth, and clear soft eyes; and herfootstep was light in the dance, but her mind was lighter still. Shehad a little child, not at all pretty; so he was put out to benursed by a laborer’s wife, and his mother went to the count’s castle.She sat in splendid rooms, richly decorated with silk and velvet;not a breath of air was allowed to blow upon her, and no one wasallowed to speak to her harshly, for she was nurse to the count’schild. He was fair and delicate as a prince, and beautiful as anangel; and how she loved this child! Her own boy was provided for by being at the laborer’s where the mouth watered more frequently than the pot boiled, and where in general no one was at home to take care of the child. Then he would cry, but what nobody knows nobody cares for; so he would cry till he was tired, and then fall asleep; and while we are asleep we can feel neither hunger nor thirst. Ah, yes; sleep is a capital invention.As years went on, Anne Lisbeth’s child grew apace like weeds,although they said his growth had been stunted. He had become quitea member of the family in which he dwelt; they received money tokeep him, so that his mother got rid of him altogether. She had become quite a lady; she had a comfortable home of her own in the town; and out of doors, when she went for a walk, she wore a bonnet; but she never walked out to see the laborer: that was too far from the town, and, indeed, she had nothing to go for, the boy now belonged to these laboring people. He had food, and he could also do something towards earning his living; he took care of Mary’s red cow, for he knew how to tend cattle and make himself useful.The great dog by the yard gate of a nobleman’s mansion sitsproudly on the top of his kennel when the sun shines, and barks atevery one that passes; but if it rains, he creeps into his house,and there he is warm and dry. Anne Lisbeth’s boy also sat in thesunshine on the top of the fence, cutting out a little toy. If itwas spring-time, he knew of three strawberry-plants in blossom,which would certainly bear fruit. This was his most hopeful thought,though it often came to nothing. And he had to sit out in the rainin the worst weather, and get wet to the skin, and let the cold winddry the clothes on his back afterwards. If he went near the farmyardbelonging to the count, he was pushed and knocked about, for the men and the maids said he was so horrible ugly; but he was used to all this, for nobody loved him. This was how the world treated AnneLisbeth’s boy, and how could it be otherwise. It was his fate to bebeloved by no one. Hitherto he had been a land crab; the land atlast cast him adrift. He went to sea in a wretched vessel, and satat the helm, while the skipper sat over the grog-can. He was dirty andugly, half-frozen and half-starved; he always looked as if he neverhad enough to eat, which was really the case.Late in the autumn, when the weather was rough, windy, and wet,and the cold penetrated through the thickest clothing, especially atsea, a wretched boat went out to sea with only two men on board, or,more correctly, a man and a half, for it was the skipper and hisboy. There had only been a kind of twilight all day, and it soongrew quite dark, and so bitterly cold, that the skipper took a dram towarm him. The bottle was old, and the glass too. It was perfect in theupper part, but the foot was broken off, and it had therefore beenfixed upon a little carved block of wood, painted blue. A dram is agreat comfort, and two are better still, thought the skipper, whilethe boy sat at the helm, which he held fast in his hard seamedhands. He was ugly, and his hair was matted, and he looked crippledand stunted; they called him the field-laborer’s boy, though in thechurch register he was entered as Anne Lisbeth’s son. The wind cutthrough the rigging, and the boat cut through the sea. The sails,filled by the wind, swelled out and carried them along in wild career.It was wet and rough above and below, and might still be worse.Hold! what is that? What has struck the boat? Was it a waterspout,or a heavy sea rolling suddenly upon them?”Heaven help us!” cried the boy at the helm, as the boat heeledover and lay on its beam ends. It had struck on a rock, which rosefrom the depths of the sea, and sank at once, like an old shoe in apuddle. “It sank at once with mouse and man,” as the saying is.There might have been mice on board, but only one man and a half,the skipper and the laborer’s boy. No one saw it but the skimmingsea-gulls and the fishes beneath the water; and even they did notsee it properly, for they darted back with terror as the boat filledwith water and sank. There it lay, scarcely a fathom below thesurface, and those two were provided for, buried, and forgotten. Theglass with the foot of blue wood was the only thing that did not sink,for the wood floated and the glass drifted away to be cast upon theshore and broken; where and when, is indeed of no consequence. Ithad served its purpose, and it had been loved, which Anne Lisbeth’sboy had not been. But in heaven no soul will be able to say, “Neverloved.”Anne Lisbeth had now lived in the town many years; she wascalled “Madame,” and felt dignified in consequence; she remembered the old, noble days, in which she had driven in the carriage, and hadassociated with countess and baroness. Her beautiful, noble childhad been a dear angel, and possessed the kindest heart; he had lovedher so much, and she had loved him in return; they had kissed andloved each other, and the boy had been her joy, her second life. Nowhe was fourteen years of age, tall, handsome, and clever. She hadnot seen him since she carried him in her arms; neither had she beenfor years to the count’s palace; it was quite a journey thither fromthe town.”I must make one effort to go,” said Anne Lisbeth, “to see mydarling, the count’s sweet child, and press him to my heart. Certainlyhe must long to see me, too, the young count; no doubt he thinks of me and loves me, as in those days when he would fling his angel-armsround my neck, and lisp ‘Anne Liz.’ It was music to my ears. Yes, Imust make an effort to see him again.” She drove across the country in a grazier’s cart, and then got out, and continued her journey on foot, and thus reached the count’s castle. It was as great and magnificent as it had always been, and the garden looked the same as ever; all the servants were strangers to her, not one of them knew Anne Lisbeth, nor of what consequence she had once been there; but she felt sure the countess would soon let them know it, and her darling boy, too: how she longed to see him!Now that Anne Lisbeth was at her journey’s end, she was keptwaiting a long time; and for those who wait, time passes slowly. Butbefore the great people went in to dinner, she was called in andspoken to very graciously. She was to go in again after dinner, andthen she would see her sweet boy once more. How tall, and slender, and thin he had grown; but the eyes and the sweet angel mouth were still beautiful. He looked at her, but he did not speak, he certainly didnot know who she was. He turned round and was going away, but she seized his hand and pressed it to her lips.”Well, well,” he said; and with that he walked out of the room. Hewho filled her every thought! he whom she loved best, and who washer whole earthly pride!Anne Lisbeth went forth from the castle into the public road,feeling mournful and sad; he whom she had nursed day and night, andeven now carried about in her dreams, had been cold and strange, and had not a word or thought respecting her. A great black raven darted down in front of her on the high road, and croaked dismally.”Ah,” said she, “what bird of ill omen art thou?” Presently shepassed the laborer’s hut; his wife stood at the door, and the twowomen spoke to each other.”You look well,” said the woman; “you’re fat and plump; you arewell off.”"Oh yes,” answered Anne Lisbeth.”The boat went down with them,” continued the woman; “Hans theskipper and the boy were both drowned; so there’s an end of them. Ialways thought the boy would be able to help me with a few dollars.He’ll never cost you anything more, Anne Lisbeth.”"So they were drowned,” repeated Anne Lisbeth; but she said nomore, and the subject was dropped. She felt very low-spirited, because her count-child had shown no inclination to speak to her who loved him so well, and who had travelled so far to see him. The journey had cost money too, and she had derived no great pleasure from it. Still she said not a word of all this; she could not relieve her heart by telling the laborer’s wife, lest the latter should think she did not enjoy her former position at the castle. Then the raven flew over her, screaming again as he flew.”The black wretch!” said Anne Lisbeth, “he will end by frighteningme today.” She had brought coffee and chicory with her, for shethought it would be a charity to the poor woman to give them to her to boil a cup of coffee, and then she would take a cup herself.The woman prepared the coffee, and in the meantime Anne Lisbethseated her in a chair and fell asleep. Then she dreamed of somethingwhich she had never dreamed before; singularly enough she dreamed of her own child, who had wept and hungered in the laborer’s hut, and had been knocked about in heat and in cold, and who was now lying in the depths of the sea, in a spot only known by God. She fancied she was still sitting in the hut, where the woman was busy preparing the coffee, for she could smell the coffee-berries roasting. But suddenly it seemed to her that there stood on the threshold abeautiful young form, as beautiful as the count’s child, and thisapparition said to her, “The world is passing away; hold fast to me,for you are my mother after all; you have an angel in heaven, holdme fast;” and the child-angel stretched out his hand and seized her.Then there was a terrible crash, as of a world crumbling to pieces,and the angel-child was rising from the earth, and holding her bythe sleeve so tightly that she felt herself lifted from the ground;but, on the other hand, something heavy hung to her feet and draggedher down, and it seemed as if hundreds of women were clinging toher, and crying, “If thou art to be saved, we must be saved too.Hold fast, hold fast.” And then they all hung on her, but there weretoo many; and as they clung the sleeve was torn, and Anne Lisbeth fell down in horror, and awoke. Indeed she was on the point of falling over in reality with the chair on which she sat; but she was so startledand alarmed that she could not remember what she had dreamed, onlythat it was something very dreadful.They drank their coffee and had a chat together, and then AnneLisbeth went away towards the little town where she was to meet thecarrier, who was to drive her back to her own home. But when shecame to him she found that he would not be ready to start till theevening of the next day. Then she began to think of the expense, andwhat the distance would be to walk. She remembered that the route by the sea-shore was two miles shorter than by the high road; and asthe weather was clear, and there would be moonlight, she determined to make her way on foot, and to start at once, that she might reachhome the next day.The sun had set, and the evening bells sounded through the airfrom the tower of the village church, but to her it was not the bells,but the cry of the frogs in the marshes. Then they ceased, and allaround became still; not a bird could be heard, they were all at rest,even the owl had not left her hiding place; deep silence reigned onthe margin of the wood by the sea-shore. As Anne Lisbeth walked on she could hear her own footsteps in the sands; even the waves of the sea were at rest, and all in the deep waters had sunk into silence.There was quiet among the dead and the living in the deep sea. AnneLisbeth walked on, thinking of nothing at all, as people say, orrather her thoughts wandered, but not away from her, for thought isnever absent from us, it only slumbers. Many thoughts that have laindormant are roused at the proper time, and begin to stir in the mindand the heart, and seem even to come upon us from above. It iswritten, that a good deed bears a blessing for its fruit; and it isalso written, that the wages of sin is death. Much has been said andmuch written which we pass over or know nothing of. A light ariseswithin us, and then forgotten things make themselves remembered; and thus it was with Anne Lisbeth. The germ of every vice and every virtue lies in our heart, in yours and in mine; they lie like little grainsof seed, till a ray of sunshine, or the touch of an evil hand, oryou turn the corner to the right or to the left, and the decision ismade. The little seed is stirred, it swells and shoots up, and poursits sap into your blood, directing your course either for good orevil. Troublesome thoughts often exist in the mind, fermentingthere, which are not realized by us while the senses are as it wereslumbering; but still they are there. Anne Lisbeth walked on thus withher senses half asleep, but the thoughts were fermenting within her.From one Shrove Tuesday to another, much may occur to weigh down the heart; it is the reckoning of a whole year; much may be forgotten, sins against heaven in word and thought, sins against our neighbor, and against our own conscience. We are scarcely aware of their existence; and Anne Lisbeth did not think of any of her errors. She had committed no crime against the law of the land; she was anhonorable person, in a good position- that she knew.She continued her walk along by the margin of the sea. What was itshe saw lying there? An old hat; a man’s hat. Now when might that have been washed overboard? She drew nearer, she stopped to look at the hat; “Ha! what was lying yonder?” She shuddered; yet it was nothing save a heap of grass and tangled seaweed flung across a long stone, but it looked like a corpse. Only tangled grass, and yet she wasfrightened at it. As she turned to walk away, much came into hermind that she had heard in her childhood: old superstitions ofspectres by the sea-shore; of the ghosts of drowned but unburiedpeople, whose corpses had been washed up on the desolate beach. The body, she knew, could do no harm to any one, but the spirit could pursue the lonely wanderer, attach itself to him, and demand to be carried to the churchyard, that it might rest in consecrated ground.”Hold fast! hold fast!” the spectre would cry; and as Anne Lisbethmurmured these words to herself, the whole of her dream was suddenly recalled to her memory, when the mother had clung to her, and uttered these words, when, amid the crashing of worlds, her sleeve had been torn, and she had slipped from the grasp of her child, who wanted to hold her up in that terrible hour. Her child, her own child, which she had never loved, lay now buried in the sea, and might rise up, like a spectre, from the waters, and cry, “Hold fast; carry meto consecrated ground!”As these thoughts passed through her mind, fear gave speed toher feet, so that she walked faster and faster. Fear came upon heras if a cold, clammy hand had been laid upon her heart, so that shealmost fainted. As she looked across the sea, all there grew darker; aheavy mist came rolling onwards, and clung to bush and tree,distorting them into fantastic shapes. She turned and glanced at themoon, which had risen behind her. It looked like a pale, raylesssurface, and a deadly weight seemed to hang upon her limbs. “Hold,”thought she; and then she turned round a second time to look at themoon. A white face appeared quite close to her, with a mist, hanginglike a garment from its shoulders. “Stop! carry me to consecratedearth,” sounded in her ears, in strange, hollow tones. The sound didnot come from frogs or ravens; she saw no sign of such creatures. “A grave! dig me a grave!” was repeated quite loud. Yes, it was indeed the spectre of her child. The child that lay beneath the ocean, and whose spirit could have no rest until it was carried to thechurchyard, and until a grave had been dug for it in consecratedground. She would go there at once, and there she would dig. Sheturned in the direction of the church, and the weight on her heartseemed to grow lighter, and even to vanish altogether; but when sheturned to go home by the shortest way, it returned. “Stop! stop!”and the words came quite clear, though they were like the croak of afrog, or the wail of a bird. “A grave! dig me a grave!”The mist was cold and damp, her hands and face were moist andclammy with horror, a heavy weight again seized her and clung toher, her mind became clear for thoughts that had never before beenthere.In these northern regions, a beech-wood often buds in a singlenight and appears in the morning sunlight in its full glory ofyouthful green. So, in a single instant, can the consciousness ofthe sin that has been committed in thoughts, words, and actions of our past life, be unfolded to us. When once the conscience is awakened, it springs up in the heart spontaneously, and God awakens the conscience when we least expect it. Then we can find no excuse for ourselves; the deed is there and bears witness against us. Thethoughts seem to become words, and to sound far out into the world. We are horrified at the thought of what we have carried within us, and at the consciousness that we have not overcome the evil which has itsorigin in thoughtlessness and pride. The heart conceals withinitself the vices as well as the virtues, and they grow in the shallowest ground. Anne Lisbeth now experienced in thought what we have clothed in words. She was overpowered by them, and sank downand crept along for some distance on the ground. “A grave! dig me agrave!” sounded again in her ears, and she would have gladly buriedherself, if in the grave she could have found forgetfulness of heractions.It was the first hour of her awakening, full of anguish andhorror. Superstition made her alternately shudder with cold or burnwith the heat of fever. Many things, of which she had feared even tospeak, came into her mind. Silently, as the cloud-shadows in themoonshine, a spectral apparition flitted by her; she had heard of itbefore. Close by her galloped four snorting steeds, with fire flashingfrom their eyes and nostrils. They dragged a burning coach, and within it sat the wicked lord of the manor, who had ruled there a hundred years before. The legend says that every night, at twelve o’clock, he drove into his castleyard and out again. He was not as pale as dead men are, but black as a coal. He nodded, and pointed to Anne Lisbeth, crying out, “Hold fast! hold fast! and then you may ride again in a nobleman’s carriage, and forget your child.”She gathered herself up, and hastened to the churchyard; but blackcrosses and black ravens danced before her eyes, and she could notdistinguish one from the other. The ravens croaked as the raven haddone which she saw in the daytime, but now she understood what they said. “I am the raven-mother; I am the raven-mother,” each ravencroaked, and Anne Lisbeth felt that the name also applied to her;and she fancied she should be transformed into a black bird, andhave to cry as they cried, if she did not dig the grave. And she threwherself upon the earth, and with her hands dug a grave in the hardground, so that the blood ran from her fingers. “A grave! dig me agrave!” still sounded in her ears; she was fearful that the cock mightcrow, and the first red streak appear in the east, before she hadfinished her work; and then she would be lost. And the cock crowed,and the day dawned in the east, and the grave was only half dug. Anicy hand passed over her head and face, and down towards her heart.”Only half a grave,” a voice wailed, and fled away. Yes, it fledaway over the sea; it was the ocean spectre; and, exhausted andoverpowered, Anne Lisbeth sunk to the ground, and her senses left her.It was a bright day when she came to herself, and two men wereraising her up; but she was not lying in the churchyard, but on thesea-shore, where she had dug a deep hole in the sand, and cut her hand with a piece of broken glass, whose sharp stern was stuck in alittle block of painted wood. Anne Lisbeth was in a fever.Conscience had roused the memories of superstitions, and had soacted upon her mind, that she fancied she had only half a soul, andthat her child had taken the other half down into the sea. Never wouldshe be able to cling to the mercy of Heaven till she had recoveredthis other half which was now held fast in the deep water.Anne Lisbeth returned to her home, but she was no longer the womanshe had been. Her thoughts were like a confused, tangled skein; onlyone thread, only one thought was clear to her, namely that she mustcarry the spectre of the sea-shore to the churchyard, and dig agrave for him there; that by so doing she might win back her soul.Many a night she was missed from her home, and was always found on the sea-shore waiting for the spectre.In this way a whole year passed; and then one night she vanishedagain, and was not to be found. The whole of the next day was spent in a useless search after her.Towards evening, when the clerk entered the church to toll thevesper bell, he saw by the altar Anne Lisbeth, who had spent the whole day there. Her powers of body were almost exhausted, but her eyes flashed brightly, and on her cheeks was a rosy flush. The last rays of the setting sun shone upon her, and gleamed over the altar upon the shining clasps of the Bible, which lay open at the words of the prophet Joel, “Rend your hearts and not your garments, and turn unto the Lord.”"That was just a chance,” people said; but do things happen bychance? In the face of Anne Lisbeth, lighted up by the evening sun,could be seen peace and rest. She said she was happy now, for shehad conquered. The spectre of the shore, her own child, had come toher the night before, and had said to her, “Thou hast dug me only halfa grave: but thou hast now, for a year and a day, buried me altogetherin thy heart, and it is there a mother can best hide her child!” Andthen he gave her back her lost soul, and brought her into the church. “Now I am in the house of God,” she said, “and in that housewe are happy.”When the sun set, Anne Lisbeth’s soul had risen to that regionwhere there is no more pain; and Anne Lisbeth’s troubles were at anend.THE ENDLastIndexNextWritten By Anderson

THEY stopped at a little hut; it was very mean looking; the roof sloped nearly down to the ground, and the door was so low that the family had to creep in on their hands and knees, when they went in and out. There was no one at home but an old Lapland woman, who was cooking fish by the light of a train-oil lamp. The reindeer told her all about Gerda’s story, after having first told his own, which seemed to him the most important, but Gerda was so pinched with the cold that she could not speak. “Oh, you poor things,” said the Lapland woman, “you have a long way to go yet. You must travel more than a hundred miles farther, to Finland. The Snow Queen lives there now, and she burns Bengal lights every evening. I will write a few words on a dried stock-fish, for I have no paper, and you can take it from me to the Finland woman who lives there; she can give you better information than I can.” So when Gerda was warmed, and had taken something to eat and drink, the woman wrote a few words on the dried fish, and told Gerda to take great care of it. Then she tied her again on the reindeer, and he set off at full speed. Flash, flash, went the beautiful blue northern lights in the air the whole night long. And at length they reached Finland, and knocked at the chimney of the Finland woman’s hut, for it had no door above the ground. They crept in, but it was so terribly hot inside that that woman wore scarcely any clothes; she was small and very dirty looking. She loosened little Gerda’s dress, and took off the fur boots and the mittens, or Gerda would have been unable to bear the heat; and then she placed a piece of ice on the reindeer’s head, and read what was written on the dried fish. After she had read it three times, she knew it by heart, so she popped the fish into the soup saucepan, as she knew it was good to eat, and she never wasted anything. The reindeer told his own story first, and then little Gerda’s, and the Finlander twinkled with her clever eyes, but she said nothing. “You are so clever,” said the reindeer; “I know you can tie all the winds of the world with a piece of twine. If a sailor unties one knot, he has a fair wind; when he unties the second, it blows hard; but if the third and fourth are loosened, then comes a storm, which will root up whole forests. Cannot you give this little maiden something which will make her as strong as twelve men, to overcome the Snow Queen?” “The Power of twelve men!” said the Finland woman; “that would be of very little use.” But she went to a shelf and took down and unrolled a large skin, on which were inscribed wonderful characters, and she read till the perspiration ran down from her forehead. But the reindeer begged so hard for little Gerda, and Gerda looked at the Finland woman with such beseeching tearful eyes, that her own eyes began to twinkle again; so she drew the reindeer into a corner, and whispered to him while she laid a fresh piece of ice on his head, “Little Kay is really with the Snow Queen, but he finds everything there so much to his taste and his liking, that he believes it is the finest place in the world; but this is because he has a piece of broken glass in his heart, and a little piece of glass in his eye. These must be taken out, or he will never be a human being again, and the Snow Queen will retain her power over him.” “But can you not give little Gerda something to help her to conquer this power?” “I can give her no greater power than she has already,” said the woman; “don’t you see how strong that is? How men and animals are obliged to serve her, and how well she has got through the world, barefooted as she is. She cannot receive any power from me greater than she now has, which consists in her own purity and innocence of heart. If she cannot herself obtain access to the Snow Queen, and remove the glass fragments from little Kay, we can do nothing to help her. Two miles from here the Snow Queen’s garden begins; you can carry the little girl so far, and set her down by the large bush which stands in the snow, covered with red berries. Do not stay gossiping, but come back here as quickly as you can.” Then the Finland woman lifted little Gerda upon the reindeer, and he ran away with her as quickly as he could. “Oh, I have forgotten my boots and my mittens,” cried little Gerda, as soon as she felt the cutting cold, but the reindeer dared not stop, so he ran on till he reached the bush with the red berries; here he set Gerda down, and he kissed her, and the great bright tears trickled over the animal’s cheeks; then he left her and ran back as fast as he could. There stood poor Gerda, without shoes, without gloves, in the midst of cold, dreary, ice-bound Finland. She ran forwards as quickly as she could, when a whole regiment of snow-flakes came round her; they did not, however, fall from the sky, which was quite clear and glittering with the northern lights. The snow-flakes ran along the ground, and the nearer they came to her, the larger they appeared. Gerda remembered how large and beautiful they looked through the burning-glass. But these were really larger, and much more terrible, for they were alive, and were the guards of the Snow Queen, and had the strangest shapes. Some were like great porcupines, others like twisted serpents with their heads stretching out, and some few were like little fat bears with their hair bristled; but all were dazzlingly white, and all were living snow-flakes. Then little Gerda repeated the Lord’s Prayer, and the cold was so great that she could see her own breath come out of her mouth like steam as she uttered the words. The steam appeared to increase, as she continued her prayer, till it took the shape of little angels who grew larger the moment they touched the earth. They all wore helmets on their heads, and carried spears and shields. Their number continued to increase more and more; and by the time Gerda had finished her prayers, a whole legion stood round her. They thrust their spears into the terrible snow-flakes, so that they shivered into a hundred pieces, and little Gerda could go forward with courage and safety. The angels stroked her hands and feet, so that she felt the cold less, and she hastened on to the Snow Queen’s castle. But now we must see what Kay is doing. In truth he thought not of little Gerda, and never supposed she could be standing in the front of the palace.

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