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JDIjf  Kit3cr0it)e  ILiterature  ^erieBf 


HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES 


NEWLY  TRANSLATED 


HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

Boston  :  4  Park  Street :  New  York :  86  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago  :  378-388  Wabaili  Avenne 


Copyright,  1891, 
By  HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

All  rights  reserved. 


EDUCATION  DEPT. 

R.D. LINGUIST 


•  «     •   •. 


PREFACE. 


The  bits  of  genuine  literature  which  a  child 
first  comes  to  know,  when  he  reads  for  himself, 
are  fables  and  folk  stories,  the  production  of  the 
world  in  its  own  period  of  childhood.  He  finds 
no  author's  name  attached  to  these  save  the  al- 
most impersonal  one  of  ^Esop,  and  he  never 
thinks  of  authorship  in  connection  with  this  lit- 
erature.  If  he  asks  the  origin  of  what  he  reads, 
he  is  told  that  the  stories  were  told  once  upon  a 
time,  dim  ages  ago. 

By  and  by  he  begins  to  hear  names  of  au- 
thors, and  to  associate  this  or  that  story,  or 
poem,  with  some  particular  personality,  and  his 
interest  is  quickened  it  may  be  by  learning  that 
the  author  is  still  living,  perhaps  he  is  in  hip 
own  neighborhood;  and  finally,  in  his  school 
exercises,  his  attention  is  drawn  almost  away 
from  literature  to  the  creators  of  literature,  and 
he  joins  with  his  companions  in  celebrating  the 
praises  of  some  author  upon  his  birthday. 

Now  there  is  a  writer  of  our  own  time  whose 
work  furnishes  a  connecting  link  between  the 

575829 


iv  PREFACE. 

literature  which  is  nameless  and  that  which  is 
identified  with  personaUty.  Hans  Christian  An- 
dersen, the  Dane,  who  was  born  April  2,  1805, 
and  died  August  4,  1875,  has  created  forms  of 
literature  consciously  which  are  very  closely  al- 
lied to  the  stories  which  have  been  rolled  over 
and  over  in  the  minds  of  people  until,  acquiring 
a  certain  consistency  and  soundness,  they  have 
lost  all  individuality  of  authorship.  It  is  but  a 
step  from  fables  and  folk  stories  to  Hans  Ander- 
sen's stories,  and  but  another  step  from  Hans 
Andersen's  stories  to  the  abundant  hterature 
which  is  simple  in  spirit  and  closely  associated 
with  the  names  of  its  authors. 

It  is  worth  while  to  note  briefly  the  difference 
between  Andersen's  little  stories  and  the  fables 
with  which  they  have  something  in  common. 
The  end  of  every  fable  is  "  Moral ;  "  it  was  for 
this  end  that  the  fable  was  created.  The  lion, 
the  fox,  the  mouse,  the  dog,  are  in  a  very  limited 
way  true  to  the  accepted  nature  of  the  animals 
"which  they  represent,  and  their  intercourse  with 
each  other  is  governed  by  the  ordinary  rules  of 
animal  life,  but  the  actions  and  words  are  dis- 
tinctly illustrative  of  some  morality.  The  fable 
is  an  animated  proverb.  The  lesson  is  first ;  the 
characters,  created  afterward,  are,  for  purposes 
of  the  teacher,  disguised  as  animals  ;  very  little 
of  the  animal  appears,  but  very  much  of  the  les* 


PREFACE.  If 

son.  The  child's  mind,  however  much  he  may 
be  entertained  by  the  action  of  the  little  story, 
is  pretty  sure  to  apply  the  moral  of  it,  and  to 
say  "  sour  grapes,"  for  example,  with  consider- 
able emphasis  very  soon  after  reading  The  Fox 
and  the  Bunch  of  Grapes. 

In  Andersen's  stories  the  spring  is  not  in 
the  didactic,  but  in  the  imaginative.  He  sees 
the  beetle  in  the  imperial  stable  stretching  out 
his  thin  legs  to  be  shod  with  golden  shoes  like 
the  emperor's  favorite  horse,  and  the  personaUty 
of  the  beetle  determines  the  movement  of  the 
story  throughout ;  egotism,  pride  at  being  proud, 
jealousy,  and  boundless  self-conceit  are  the  furni- 
ture of  this  beetle's  soul,  and  his  adventures  one 
by  one  disclose  his  character.  Is  there  a  lesson 
in  all  this  ?  Precisely  as  there  is  a  lesson  in  any 
picture  of  human  life  where  the  same  traits  are 
sketched.  The  beetle,  after  all  his  adventures, 
some  of  them  ignominious,  but  none  expelling 
his  self-conceit,  finds  himself  again  in  the  emper- 
or's stable,  having  solved  the  problem  why  the 
emperor's  horse  had  golden  shoes.  "  The  horse 
got  them  for  my  sake,"  he  says,  and  adds,  "  The 
world  is  not  so  bad  upon  the  whole ;  but  one 
must  know  how  to  take  it." 

One  test  of  the  lasting  value  of  Andersen's 
stories  is  to  be  found  in  the  charm  and  the  new 
meaning  which  await  the  mature  reader  who  has 


^  PREFACE, 

already  in  earlier  years  made  their  acquaintance. 
The  story  of  The  Ugly  Duckling,  for  example, 
is  an  inimitable  presentation  of  Andersen's  own 
tearful  and  finally  triumphant  life  ;  yet  no  child 
who  reads  this  story  has  his  sympathy  for  a  mo- 
ment withdrawn  from  the  duckling  and  trans- 
ferred to  a  human  being.  It  is  only  when,  later 
in  life,  he  reads  the  story  with  a  knowledge  not 
of  Andersen's  history  alone,  but  of  much  human 
experience,  that  he  discovers  what  an  apologue 
is  in  the  little  narrative. 

A  prime  advantage  in  an  early  acquaintance 
with  Andersen  springs  from  the  stimulus  which 
his  quaint  fancy  gives  to  the  budding  imagina- 
tion of  childhood.  It  may  be  said  without  exag- 
geration that  Andersen  truly  represents  creative 
childhood  in  literature.  The  power  of  animating 
dumb  and  inanimate  objects  is  a  common  prop- 
erty of  childhood,  which  not  only  invests  the 
simulacra  of  life  with  life,  making  dolls  real  peo- 
ple, but  turns  the  most  imlikely  objects  into  the 
puppets  of  imagination  ;  a  stick  becomes  a  horse 
if  one  only  ride  it,  and  spools  are  made  lively 
dramatis  personce.  What  every  child  is  likely 
to  do  in  this  way,  Andersen  does  with  delightful 
art,  and  a  darning-needle,  a  top,  a  ball,  the 
flower  of  the  field,  all  have  an  active  and  a  con- 
sistent  life  that  springs  from  a  thoroughly  ar- 
tistic sense  in  the  mind  of  their  creator.     It  is 


PREFACE,  vii 

this  nice  sympathy  held  by  Andersen  with  the 
peculiar  phase  of  childhood  which  makes  his 
writings  so  eminently  fit  for  the  reading  of  chil- 
dren ;  in  entering  his  world  they  do  not  pass  out 
of  their  own  but  enlarge  it,  for  by  the  means  of 
his  art  they  are  introduced  to  the  larger  art  of 
imaginative  Uterature. 

It  is  interesting  to  observe  that  Andersen  be- 
gan the  compositions  which  have  won  him  his 
special  fame  by  writing  out  the  folk  stories 
which  he  had  heard  as  a  child.  Then  he  made 
one  or  two  inventions  in  the  same  order,  and 
then  through  the  native  bent  of  his  own  childish 
nature  fell  to  endowing  ordinary  and  inanimate 
objects  with  imagined  vitality,  giving  one  the 
impression  that  he  is  looking  at  life  through  the 
reverse  end  of  an  opera  glass.  At  first  the  crit- 
ics were  puzzled  by  this  new  form  of  Uterature 
and  advised  him  to  waste  no  more  time  over  such 
work.  He  was  half  ashamed  himself,  but  said : 
^I  would  willingly  have  discontinued  writing 
them,  but  they  forced  themselves  from  me,"  and 
it  was  not  long  before  old  and  young  received 
them  with  avidity.  No  Christmas  tree  was 
grown  unless  some  of  this  fruit  hung  from 
it ;  every  Christmas  for  years  there  came  out  in 
Copenhagen  one  of  the  little  volumes  of  these 
stories.  They  became  the  fashion,  and  actors 
declaimed  the  stories  from  the  stage  as  inter- 
ludes between  the  larger  pieces, 


VUl  PREFACE, 

Andersen  tells  in  his  autobiography,  The  Story 
of  My  Life,  a  pleasing  little  incident  which  hints 
at  the  popularity  which  he  enjoyed  during  his 
lifetime.  He  was  at  Hamburg,  where  the  Ger- 
man translator  of  his  stories  lived.  "  Otto  Speck- 
ter,"  he  says, "  who  is  full  of  genius,  surprised  me 
by  his  bold,  glorious  drawings  for  my  stories ; 
he  had  made  a  whole  collection  of  them,  six  only 
of  which  were  known  to  me.  ...  I  wished  one 
evening  to  go  to  the  theatre ;  it  was  scarcely  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  before  the  commencement  of 
the  opera.  Speckter  accompanied  me,  and  on 
our  way  we  came  to  an  elegant  house. 

"  *  We  must  first  go  in  here,  dear  friend,* 
said  he  ;  ^  a  wealthy  family  lives  here,  friends 
of  mine,  and  friends  of  your  stories ;  the  chil- 
dren will  be  happy.' 

"  ^  But  the  opera  ! '  said  I. 

"  ^  Only  for  two  minutes,'  returned  he,  and 
drew  me  into  the  house,  mentioned  my  name,  and 
a  circle  of  children  gathered  around  me. 

"  *  And  now  give  us  a  story,'  said  Speckter, 
*  only  one.' 

**  I  told  one,  and  then  hastened  away  to  the 
theatre. 

"  ^  That  was  an  extraordinary  visit,'  said  I. 

** '  An  excellent  one ;  one  entirely  out  of  the 
common  way  ! '  said  he,  exultingly.  '  Only  think  \ 
the  children  are  full  of  Andersen  and  his  stories  • 


PREFACE.  ix 

he  suddenly  makes  his  appearance  amongst  them, 
tells  one  of  them  himself,  and  then  is  gone! 
vanished !  That  is  of  itself  like  a  fairy  tale  to  the 
children,  that  will  remain  vividly  in  the  remem- 
brance/     I  myself  was  amused  by  it." 

The  Story  of  My  Life  has  many  illustrations 
of  the  fact  that  Andersen  was  a  grown-up  child, 
and  the  accounts  given  of  him  by  others  all  con- 
firm the  same  impression.  He  was  easily  moved 
by  praise  or  blame ;  he  wished  to  be  petted  by 
others,  and  when  he  was  neglected,  he  acted 
often  like  a  spoiled  child.  He  never  married, 
but  there  were  many  houses  in  which  he  was  as 
one  of  the  family.  Indeed,  at  one  time  he  was 
wont  to  dine  at  seven  different  houses  on  the 
successive  days  of  the  week,  month  in,  month 
out.  He  wrote  a  large  number  of  books,  other 
than  those  for  children,  novels  and  romances, 
poems  and  dramas,  the  one  book  best  known 
being  The  Improvisatore,  a  romance  of  life  in 
Italy.  His  statue  stands  in  one  of  the  public 
gardens  of  Copenhagen,  and  children  play  about 
it,  and  look  up  into  the  kind,  homely  face  of  the 
great  story-teller,  who  is  represented  book  in 
hand,  and  finger  uplifted,  as  if  he  were  calling 
on  then:i  to  listen  while  he  told  them  one  of  his 
little  stories. 

Andersen's  stories  found  their  way  early  into 
German  and  into  English  dress,  and  it  was  one 


%  PREFACE. 

of  the  pleasures  of  his  old  age  that  he  wrote  new 
wonder  stories  expressly  for  an  American  maga- 
zine, The  Riverside  Magazine  for  Young  Peo- 
pie.  In  bringing  out  the  present  collection, 
mainly  with  reference  to  use  in  schools,  the  ed- 
itor has  availed  himself  of  earher  translations, 
but  has  sought  by  reference  to  the  Danish  to 
come  closer  to  the  original,  simple,  unaffected 
style  of  the  great  children's  story-teller. 


CONTENTS. 


Thk  Ugly  Ducklino 

I.  The  Duckling  is  born 13 

II.  How  THB  Duckling  was  treated  at  Home    .       .  16 

III.  Out  on  the  Moor 19 

IV.  In  the  Peasant's  Hut? 21 

V.  What  became  op  the  Duckling    ....      25 

The  Princess  on  the  Pea 30 

The  Pine-Tree 

I.  When  it  was  Little 32 

n.  Christmas  in  the  Woods 35 

m.  Christmas  in  the  House 38 

rV.  In  the  Attic 41 

V.  Out  of  Doors  again 46 

Luck  may  lie  in  a  Stick 48 

The  Tea-Pot 52 

The  Little  Match  Girl 65 

The  Beetle 

I.  In  the  Stable 59 

n.  Out  in  the  World 60 

III.  A  Prisoner 66 

rV.  Home  Again 69 

The  Daisy 72 

The  Constant  Tin  Soldier 79 

The  Darnino-Needlk 87 

The  Lovers  ....<» ©3 


xii  CONTENTS, 

Thb  Snow-Qitke». 
First  Story  ;   which  tells  of  a  Mirror  and  its  Splin- 

TER8 97 

Second  Story;    a  Little  Boy  and  a  Little  Girl       .  09 
Third  Story;    of  the   Flower  Garden  at  the  Old 

Woman's  who  understood  Witchcraft           .  108 

Fourth  Story;    the  Prince  and  Princess     .        •  119 

Fifth  Story;  the  Little  Robber-Maiden        .        .  129 
Sixth  Story;   the  Lapland  Woman  and  the  Finland 

Woman 136 

Seventh  Story;   what   took  place  in  the  Palace  op 

THE   Snow-Queen,  and  what  happened  afterward  141 

The  Flax 149 

The  Nightingale. 

I.  The  Real  Nightingale 166 

II.  The  Toy  Nightingale 164 

III.  The  Real  Nightingale  again      ....  168 

What  the  Moon  saw 173 

The  Toad 175 

The  Emperor's  New  Clothes 187 

The  Happy  Family 195 

The  Candles    «.       •       •       •              •       •       •       •       •  201 


HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 


THE  UGLY  DUCKLING. 
L 

THE   DUCKLING   IS   BORN. 

It  was  glorious  in  the  country ;  it  was  sum- 
mer ;  the  corn-fields  were  yellow,  the  oats  were 
green,  the  hay  had  been  put  up  in  stacks  in  the 
green  meadows ;  and  the  stork  went  about  on 
his  long  red  legs,  and  chattered  Egyptian,  for 
this  was  the  language  he  had  learned  from  his 
mother.  All  around  the  fields  and  meadows 
were  great  woods,  and  in  the  midst  of  these 
woods  deep  lakes.  Yes,  it  was  right  glorious  in 
the  country. 

In  the  midst  of  the  sunshine  there  lay  an  old 
farm,  with  deep  canals  about  it ;  and  from  tho 
wall  down  to  the  water  grew  great  burdocks,  so 
high  that  little  children  could  stand  upright 
under  the  tallest  of  them.  It  was  just  as  wild 
there  as  in  the  deepest  wood,  and  here  sat  a 


14:  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

DiicV 'upbn"h^r  lieSt;  she  had  to  hatch  her 
ducklings ;  but  she  was  almost  tired  out  before 
the  little  ones  came;  and  she  seldom  had  vis- 
itors. The  other  ducks  liked  better  to  swim 
about  in  the  canals  than  to  run  up  to  sit  under 
a  burdock,  and  gabble  with  her. 

At  last  one  egg-shell  after  another  burst  open. 
**  Pip !  pip  1 "  each  cried,  and  in  all  the  eggs 
there  were  little  things  that  stuck  out  their 
heads. 

"  Quack !  quack ! "  said  the  Duck,  and  they 
all  came  quacking  out  as  fast  as  they  could,  look- 
ing all  around  them  under  the  green  leaves ; 
and  the  mother  let  them  look  as  much  as  they 
liked,  for  green  is  good  for  the  eye. 

"  How  wide  the  world  is  !  "  said  all  the  young 
ones ;  for  they  certainly  had  much  more  room 
now  than  when  they  were  inside  the  eggs. 

"D'ye  think  this  is  all  the  world?"  said  the 
mother.  "  That  stretches  far  across  the  other 
side  of  the  garden,  quite  into  the  parson's  field ; 
but  I  have  never  been  there  yet.  I  hope  yoa 
are  all  together,"  and  she  stood  up.  "  No,  I 
have  not  all.  The  largest  egg  still  lies  there. 
How  long  is  that  to  last  ?  I  am  really  tired  of 
it."     And  so  she  sat  down  again. 

"Well,  how  goes  it?"  asked  an  old  Duck 
who  had  come  to  pay  her  a  visit. 

*^  It  lasts  a  long  time  with  this  one  egg,"  said 


THE  UGLY  DUCKLING,  15 

the  Duck  who  sat  there.  "It  will  not  open. 
Now,  only  look  at  the  others !  They  are  the 
prettiest  little  ducks  I  ever  saw.  They  are  all 
like  their  father :  the  rogue,  he  never  comes  to 
see  me." 

"  Let  me  see  the  egg  which  will  not  burst/'  said 
the  old  Duck.  "  You  may  be  sure  it  is  a  tur- 
key's eigg,  I  was  once  cheated  in  that  way,  and 
had  much  care  and  trouble  with  the  young  ones, 
for  they  are  afraid  of  the  water.  Must  I  say  it 
to  you?  I  could  not  make  them  go  in.  I 
quacked,  and  I  clacked,  but  it  was  no  use.  Let 
me  see  the  egg.  Yes,  that's  a  turkey's  Qgg. 
Let  it  lie  there,  and  do  you  teach  the  other  chil- 
dren to  swim." 

"  I  think  I  will  sit  on  it  a  little  longer,"  said 
the  Duck.  "  I  've  sat  so  long  now  that  I  can 
sit  a  few  days  more." 

"  Just  as  you  please,"  said  the  old  Duck  ;  and 
she  went  away. 

At  last  the  great  egg  burst.  "  Pip !  pip  ! " 
said  the  little  one,  and  crept  forth.  He  was  so 
big  and  ugly.     The  Duck  looked  at  him. 

"  It 's  a  very  large  Duckling,"  said  she. 
*'  None  of  the  others  looks  like  that ;  it  really 
must  be  a  turkey  chick !  Well,  we  shall  soon 
find  out.  Into  the  water  shall  he  go,  even  if  I 
have  to  push  him  in." 


16  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

II. 

HOW   THE   DUCKLING   WAS    TREATED    AT    HOM] 

The  next  day,  it  was  bright,  beautiful  wea- 
ther ;  the  sun  shone  on  all  the  green  burdocks* 
The  Mother-Duck  with  all  her  family  went  down 
to  the  canal.  Splash !  she  jumped  into  the 
water.  "  Quack  !  quack  !  "  she  said,  and  one 
duckling  after  another  plumped  in.  The  water 
closed  over  their  heads,  but  they  came  up  in 
an  instant,  and  swam  off  finely  ;  their  legs  went 
of  themselves,  and  they  were  all  in  the  water ; 
even  the  ugly  gray  Duckling  swam  with  them. 

*-  No,  it 's  not  a  turkey,"  said  she ;  "  look  how 
weU  he  uses  his  legs,  how  straight  he  holds  him- 
self. It  is  my  own  child  !  On  the  whole  he 's 
quite  pretty,  when  one  looks  at  him  rightly. 
Quack !  quack  !  come  now  with  me,  and  I  '11 
lead  you  out  into  the  world,  and  present  you  in 
the  duck-yard;  but  keep  close  to  me  all  the 
time,  so  that  no  one  may  tread  on  you,  and  look 
out  for  the  cats." 

And  so  they  came  into  the  duck-yard.  There 
was  a  terrible  row  going  on  in  there,  for  two 
families  were  fighting  about  an  eel's  head,  and 
so  the  cat  got  it. 

"  See,  that 's  the  way  it  goes  in  the  world !  '* 
said  the   Mother-Duck ;   and   she  whetted   her 


THE  UGLY  DUCKLING,  17 

beak,  for  she  too  wanted  the  eel's  head.  "  Only 
use  your  legs,"  she  said.  "  See  that  you  can 
bustle  about,  and  bend  your  necks  before  the 
old  Duck  yonder.  She's  the  grandest  of  all 
here  ;  she 's  of  Spanish  blood  —  that 's  why 
she  's  so  fat ;  and  do  you  see  ?  she  has  a  red  rag 
around  her  leg ;  that 's  something  very,  very 
fine,  and  the  greatest  mark  of  honor  a  duck  can 
have :  it  means  that  one  does  not  want  to  lose 
her,  and  that  she  's  known  by  the  animals  and  by 
men  too.  Hurry  !  hurry  !  —  don't  turn  in  your 
toes  ;  a  well  brought-up  duck  turns  its  toes  quite 
out,  just  like  father  and  mother,  —  so  !  Now 
bend  your  necks  and  say  '  Quack  ! '  " 

And  they  did  so  :  but  the  other  ducks  round 
about  looked  at  them,  and  said  quite  boldly,  — 

"  Look  there  !  now  we  're  to  have  this  crowd 
too  !  as  if  there  were  not  enough  of  us  already ! 
And  —  fie  !  —  how  that  Duckling  yonder  looks  ; 
we  won't  stand  that !  "  And  at  once  one  duck 
flew  at  hinl,  and  bit  him  in  the  neck. 

"Let  him  alone,"  said  the  mother;  "he  is 
not  doing  anything  to  any  one." 

"  Yes,  but  he 's  too  large  and  odd,"  said  the 
Duck  who  had  bitten  him,  "  and  so  he  must  be 
put  down." 

"  Those  are  pretty  children  the  mother  has," 
said  the  old  Duck  with  the  rag  round  her  leg. 
"  They  're  all  pretty  but  that  one  ;  that  is  rather 


18  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES, 

unlucky.  I  wish  she  could  have  that  one  over 
again." 

"  That  cannot  be  done,  my  lady/'  said  the 
Mother-Duck.  "  He  is  not  pretty,  but  he  has 
a  really  good  temper,  and  swims  as  well  as  any 
of  the  others ;  yes,  I  may  even  say  it,  a  Httle 
better.  I  think  he  will  grow  up  pretty,  perhaps 
in  time  he  will  grow  a  little  smaller  ;  he  lay  too 
long  in  the  ^gg,  and  therefore  he  has  not  quite 
the  right  shape."  And  she  pinched  him  in  the 
neck,  and  smoothed  his  feathers.  "  Beside,  he 
is  a  drake,"  she  said,  "  and  so  it  does  not  mat- 
ter much.  I  think  he  will  be  very  strong  :  he 
makes  his  way  already." 

"  The  other  ducklings  are  gracef  id  enough," 
said  the  old  Duck.  "  Make  yourself  at  home  ; 
and  if  you  find  an  eel's  head,  you  may  bring  it 
to  me." 

And  now  they  were  at  home.  But  the  poor 
Duckling  who  had  crept  last  out  of  the  Qgg,  and 
looked  so  ugly,  was  bitten  and  pushed  and  made 
fun  of,  as  much  by  the  ducks  as  by  the  chickens. 

"  He  is  too  big ! "  they  all  said.  And  the 
turkey-cock,  who  had  been  born  with  spurs,  and 
so  thought  he  was  an  emperor,  blew  himself  up, 
like  a  ship  in  full  sail,  and  bore  straight  down 
upon  him ;  then  he  gobbled  and  grew  quite  red 
in  the  face.  The  poor  DuckUng  did  not  know 
where  he  dared  stand  or  walk;  he  was  quite 


THE   UGLY  DUCKLING,  19 

unhappy  because  he  looked  ugly,  and  was  the 
sport  of  the  whole  duck-yard. 

So  it  went  on  the  first  day ;  and  then  it  grew 
worse  and  worse.  The  poor  Duckling  was 
hunted  about  by  every  one ;  even  his  brothers 
and  sisters  were  quite  angry  with  him,  and  said, 
"I£  the  cat  would  only  catch  you,  you  ugly 
creature !  "  And  the  ducks  bit  him,  and  the 
chickens  beat  him,  and  the  girl  who  had  to  feed 
the  poultry  kicked  at  him  with  her  foot. 


m. 

OUT   ON  THE   MOOR. 

Then  he  ran  and  flew  over  the  fence,  and  the 
little  birds  in  the  bushes  flew  up  in  fear. 

"  That  is  because  I  am  so  ugly  !  "  thought  the 
Duckling ;  and  he  shut  his  eyes,  but  flew  on 
further ;  and  so  he  came  out  into  the  great  moor, 
where  the  wild  ducks  Uved.  Here  he  lay  the 
whole  night  long,  he  was  so  tired  and  sad. 

Toward  morning  the  wild  ducks  flew  up,  and 
looked  at  their  new  mate. 

"  What  sort  of  a  one  are  you  ?  "  they  asked  ; 
and  the  Duckling  turned  about  to  each,  and 
bowed  as  well  as  he  could.  "You  are  really 
very  ugly  !  "  said  the  Wild  Ducks.     "  But  that 


20  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

is  all  the  same  to  us,  so  long  as  you  do  not  marry 
into  our  family." 

Poor  thing!  he  certainly  did  not  think  of 
marrying,  and  only  dared  ask  leave  to  lie  among 
ihe  reeds  and  drink  some  of  the  swamp  water. 

There  he  lay  two  whole  days;  then  came 
thither  two  wild  geese,  or  more  truly,  two  wild 
ganders.  It  was  not  long  since  each  had  crept 
out  of  an  egg,  and  that's  why  they  were  so 
saucy. 

"  Listen,  comrade,"  said  one  of  them.  "  You 
're  so  ugly  that  I  like  you.  Will  you  go  with 
us,  and  become  a  bird  of  passage  ?  Near  here 
is  another  moor,  where  are  a  few  sweet  lovely 
wild  geese,  all  unmarried,  and  all  able  to  say 
^  Quack ! '  You  Ve  a  chance  of  making  your 
fortune,  ugly  as  you  are." 

"  PifE !  paff !  "  sounded  through  the  air  ;  and 
both  the  ganders  fell  down  dead  in  the  reeds, 
and  the  water  became  blood  red.  "  Piff  !  pafE !  " 
it  sounded  again,  and  the  whole  flock  of  wild 
geese  flew  up  from  the  reeds.  And  then  there 
was  another  report.  A  great  hunt  was  going 
on.  The  gunners  lay  around  in  the  moor,  and 
some  were  even  sitting  up  in  the  branches  of  the 
trees,  which  spread  far  over  the  reeds.  The  blue 
smoke  rose  like  clouds  in  among  the  dark  trees, 
and  hung  over  the  water  ;  and  the  hunting  dogg 
came  —  splash,  splash !  —  into  the  mud,  and  the 


THE  UGLY  DUCKLING.  21 

rushes  and  reeds  bent  down  on  every  side.  That 
was  a  fright  for  the  poor  DuekHng !  He  turned 
his  head  to  put  it  under  his  wing  ;  and  at  that 
very  moment  a  frightful  great  dog  stood  close 
by  the  Duckling.  His  tongue  hung  far  out  of 
his  mouth,  and  his  eyes  glared  horribly.  He  put 
his  nose  close  to  the  Duckling,  showed  his  sharp 
teeth,  and  —  splash,  splash  !  —  on  he  went  with- 
out seizing  it. 

"  Oh,  Heaven  be  thanked !  "  sighed  the  Duck- 
ling. "  I  am  so  ugly  that  even  the  dog  does 
not  like  to  bite  me !  " 

And  so  he  lay  quite  quiet,  while  the  shots  rat- 
tled through  the  reeds  and  gun  after  gun  was 
fired.  At  last,  late  in  the  day,  all  was  still ;  but 
the  poor  little  tiling  did  not  dare  to  rise  up ; 
he  waited  several  hours  still  before  he  looked 
around,  and  then  hurried  away  out  of  the  moor 
as  fast  as  he  could.  He  ran  on  over  field  and 
meadow  ;  there  was  a  storm  so  that  he  had  hard 
work  to  get  away. 


IV. 


IN   THE   peasant's    HUT. 


Towards  evening  the  Duckling  came  to  a 
peasant's  poor  little  hut ;  it  was  so  tumbled  down 
that  it  did  not  itself   know  on  which   side  it 


22  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

should  fall ;  and  that's  why  it  stood  up.  The 
storm  whistled  around  the  Duckling  in  such  a 
way  that  he  had  to  sit  down  to  keep  from  blow- 
ing away ;  and  the  wind  blew  worse  and  worse. 
Then  he  noticed  that  one  of  the  hinges  of  the 
door  had  given  way,  and  the  door  hung  so 
slanting  that  he  could  slip  through  the  crack 
into  the  room ;  and  that  is  what  he  did. 

Here  lived  an  old  woman,  with  her  Cat  and 
her  Hen.  And  the  Cat,  whom  she  called  Son- 
nie,  could  arch  his  back  and  purr;  he  could 
even  give  out  sparks ;  but  for  that,  one  had  to 
stroke  his  fur  the  wrong  way.  The  Hen  had 
quite  small,  short  legs,  and  therefore  she  was 
called  Chickabiddy  Shortshanks ;  she  laid  good 
eggs,  and  the  woman  loved  her  as  her  own 
child. 

In  the  morning  they  noticed  at  once  the 
strange  Duckling,  and  the  Cat  began  to  purr 
and  the  Hen  to  cluck. 

"  What 's  this  ?  "  said  the  woman,  and  looked 
all  around ;  but  she  could  not  see  well,  and 
therefore  she  thought  the  Duckling  was  a  fat 
duck  that  had  strayed.  "  This  is  a  rare  prize ! " 
she  said.  "  Now  I  shall  have  duck's  eggs.  I 
hope  it  is  not  a  drake.     We  must  try  that." 

And  so  the  Duckling  was  taken  on  trial  for 
three  weeks,  but  no  eggs  came.  And  the  Cat 
was  master  of  the  house,  and  the  Hen  was  the 


THE   UGLY  DUCKLING,  23 

lady,  and  always  said  "  We  and  the  world !  "  for 
they  thought  they  were  half  the  world,  and  by 
far  the  better  half.  It  seemed  to  the  Duckling 
that  one  might  have  another  mind,  but  the  HeB 
would  not  allow  it. 

"  Can  you  lay  eggs  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Then  will  you  hold  your  tongue  !  '* 

And  the  Cat  said,  "  Can  you  curve  your  back, 
and  purr,  and  give  out  sparks  ?  " 

"  No." 

**  Then  you  will  please  have  no  opinion  of 
your  own  when  sensible  folks  are  speaking !  " 

And  the  Duckling  sat  in  a  corner  and  was  in 
low  spirits ;  then  he  began  to  think  of  the  fresh 
air  and  the  sunshine;  and  he  was  seized  with 
Buch  a  strange  longing  to  swim  on  the  water, 
that  he  could  not  help  telling  the  Hen  of  it. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of  ? "  cried  the 
Hen.  "  You  have  nothing  to  do,  that 's  why  you 
have  these  fancies.  Lay  eggs,  or  purr,  and  they 
•will  pass  over." 

"  But  it  is  so  charming  to  swim  in  the  water/* 
said  the  Duckling,  "  so  nice  to  feel  it  go  over 
pne's  head,  and  to  dive  down  to  the  bottom ! " 

"Yes,  that's  a  fine  thing,  truly,"  said  the 
Hen.  "  You  are  clean  gone  crazy.  Ask  the  Cat 
about  it,  —  he  's  the  cleverest  thing  I  know,  — 
ask  him  if  he  likes  to  swim  in  the  water,  or  to 


24  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

dive  down :  I  won't  speak  about  myself.  Ask 
our  mistress  herself,  the  old  woman ;  no  one  in 
the  world  knows  more  than  she.  Do  you  think 
she  wants  to  swim,  and  to  let  the  water  close 
above  her  head  ?  " 

**  You  don't  understand  me/'  said  the  Duck* 
ling. 

"  We  don't  understand  you !  Then  pray  who 
is  to  understand  you?  You  surely  don't  pre- 
tend to  be  cleverer  than  the  Cat  and  the  woman 
—  I  won't  say  anything  of  myself.  Don't  make 
a  fool  of  yourself,  child,  and  thank  your  Maker 
for  aU  the  good  you  have.  Are  you  not  come 
into  a  warm  room,  and  have  you  not  folks  about 
you  from  whom  you  can  learn  something  ?  But 
you  are  a  goose,  and  it  is  not  pleasant  to  have 
you  about.  You  may  believe  me,  I  speak  for 
your  good.  I  tell  you  things  you  won't  like, 
and  by  that  one  may  always  know  one's  true 
friends  !  Only  take  care  that  you  learn  to  la^ 
eggs,  or  to  purr,  and  to  give  out  sparks  !  " 

"  I  think  I  will  go  out  into  the  wide  world," 
said  the  Duckling. 

**  Yes,  do  go,"  replied  the  Hen. 

And  so  the  Duckling  went  away.  He  swam 
on  the  water,  and  dived,  but  he  was  shunned  by 
every  creature  because  he  was  so  ugly. 


THE  UGLY  DUCKLING.  25 

V. 

WHAT   BECAME    OP   THE   DUCKLING. 

Now  came  the  fall  of  the  year.  The  leaves 
in  the  wood  turned  yellow  and  brown  ;  the  wind 
caught  them  so  that  they  danced  about,  and  up 
in  the  air  it  was  very  cold.  The  clouds  hung 
low,  heavy  with  hail  and  snow-flakes,  and  on  the 
fence  stood  the  raven,  crying,  "  Croak  !  croak  !  " 
for  mere  cold ;  yes,  one  could  freeze  fast  if  one 
thought  about  it.  The  poor  Uttle  Duckling  cer- 
tainly had  not  a  good  time.  One  evening  — 
the  sun  was  just  going  down  in  fine  style  — 
there  came  a  whole  flock  of  great  handsome 
birds  out  of  the  bushes ;  they  were  shining 
white,  with  long,  supple  necks ;  they  were  swans. 
They  uttered  a  very  strange  cry,  spread  forth 
their  glorious  great  wings,  and  flew  away  from 
that  cold  region  to  warmer  lands,  to  fair  open 
lakes.  They  mounted  so  high,  so  high  !  and 
the  ugly  Duckling  had  such  a  strange  feeling  as 
he  saw  them  !  He  turned  round  and  round  in 
the  water  like  a  wheel,  stretched  out  his  neck 
towards  them,  and  uttered  a  cry,  so  high,  so 
strange,  that  he  feared  as  he  heard  it.  Oh  !  he 
could  not  forget  those  beautiful,  happy  birds; 
and  as  soon  as  he  could  see  them  no  longer,  he 
dived  down  to  the  very  bottom,  and  when  he 


26  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

came  up  again,  he  was  quite  beside  himself. 
He  did  not  know  what  the  birds  were,  nor  where 
they  were  flying  to ;  but  he  loved  them  more 
than  he  had  ever  loved  any  one.  He  did  not  envy 
them  at  all.  How  could  he  think  of  wishing  to 
have  such  loveliness  as  they  had  ?  He  would 
have  been  glad  if  only  the  ducks  would  have 
let  him  be  among  them  —  the  poor,  ugly  crea- 
ture ! 

And  the  winter  grew  so  cold,  so  cold !  The 
Duckling  had  to  swim  about  in  the  water,  to 
keep  it  from  freezing  over ;  but  every  night  the 
hole  in  which  he  swam  about  became  smaller 
and  smaller.  It  froze  so  hard  that  the  icy  cover 
sounded ;  and  the  Duckling  had  to  use  his  legs 
all  the  time  to  keep  the  hole  from  freezing 
tight.  At  last  he  became  worn  out,  and  lay 
quite  still,  and  thus  froze  fast  in  the  ice. 

Early  in  the  morning  a  peasant  came  by,  and 
found  him  there ;  he  took  his  wooden  shoe, 
broke  the  ice  to  pieces,  and  carried  the  Duck- 
ling home  to  his  wife.  Then  the  Duckling 
came  to  himself  again.  The  children  wanted  to 
play  with  him ;  but  he  thought  they  wanted  to 
hurt  him,  and  in  his  terror  he  flew  up  into  the 
milk-pan,  so  that  the  milk  spilled  over  into  the 
room.  The  woman  screamed  and  shook  her 
hand  in  the  air,  at  which  the  Duckling  flew 
down  into  the  tub  where  they  kept  the  butter, 


THE  UGLY  DUCKLING,  27 

and  then  into  the  meal-barrel  and  out  again. 
How  he  looked  then !  The  woman  screamed, 
and  struck  at  him  with  the  fire  tongs  ;  the  chil- 
dren tumbled  over  one  another  as  they  tried  to 
catch  the  Duckling ;  and  they  laughed  and  they 
screamed !  —  well  was  it  that  the  door  stood 
open,  and  the  poor  creature  was  able  to  slip  out 
between  the  bushes  into  the  newly-fallen  snow 
—  there  he  lay  quite  worn  out. 

But  it  would  be  too  sad  if  I  were  to  tell  all 
the  misery  and  care  which  the  DuckUng  had 
to  bear  in  the  hard  winter.  He  lay  out  on  the 
moor  among  the  reeds,  when  the  sun  began  to 
shine  again  and  the  larks  to  sing;  it  was  a 
beautiful  spring. 

Then  all  at  once  the  Duckling  could  flap  his 
wings  :  they  beat  the  air  more  strongly  than  be- 
fore, and  bore  him  stoutly  away ;  and  before 
he  well  knew  it,  he  found  himself  in  a  great  gar- 
den, where  the  elder-trees  stood  in  flower,  and 
bent  their  long  green  branches  down  to  the 
winding  canal,  and  the  lilacs  smelt  sweet.  Oh, 
here  it  was  beautiful,  fresh,  and  springlike  !  and 
from  the  thicket  came  three  glorious  white 
swans ;  they  rustled  their  wings,  and  sat  lightly 
on  the  water.  The  DuckHng  knew  the  splen- 
did creatures,  and  felt  a  strange  sadness. 

"  I  will  fly  away  to  them,  to  the  royal  birds  ! 
and  they  will  beat  me,  because  I,  that  am  so 


28  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

Ugly,  dare  to  come  near  them.  But  it  is  all  the 
same.  Better  to  be  killed  by  them  than  to  be 
chased  by  ducks,  and  beaten  by  fowls,  and 
pushed  about  by  the  girl  who  takes  care  of  the 
poultry  yard,  and  to  suffer  hunger  in  winter !  '* 
And  he  flew  out  into  the  water,  and  swam  to- 
ward  the  beautiful  swans :  these  looked  at  him^ 
and  came  saiHng  down  upon  him  with  outspread 
wings.  "  Kill  me ! "  said  the  poor  creature, 
and  bent  his  head  down  upon  the  water,  and 
waited  for  death.  But  what  saw  he  in  the 
clear  water  ?  He  saw  below  him  his  own  image ; 
and,  lo  !  it  was  no  longer  a  clumsy  dark-gray 
bird,  ugly  and  hateful  to  look  at,  but  —  a  swan  ! 

It  matters  nothing  if  one  is  born  in  a  duck- 
yard,  if  one  has  only  lain  in  a  swan's  egg. 

He  felt  quite  glad  at  all  the  need  and  hard 
times  he  had  borne;  now  he  could  joy  in  his 
good  luck  in  all  the  brightness  that  was  round 
him.  And  the  great  swans  swam  round  him 
and  stroked  him  with  their  beaks. 

Into  the  garden  came  little  children,  who 
threw  bread  and  corn  into  the  water ;  and  the 
youngest  cried  "  There  is  a  new  one  !  "  and  the 
other  children  shouted,  "Yes,  a  new  one  has 
come !  ^'  And  they  clapped  their  hands  and 
danced  about,  and  ran  to  their  father  and  mo- 
ther ;  and  bread  and  cake  were  thrown  into  the 
water ;  and  they  all  said,  "  The  new  one  is  the 


THE   UGLY  DUCKLING,  29 

most  beautiful  of  all !  so  young  and  so  hand- 
some ! "  and  the  old  swans  bowed  their  heads 
before  him. 

Then  he  felt  quite  ashamed,  and  hid  his  head 
under  his  wings,  for  he  did  not  know  what  to 
do ;  he  was  so  happy,  and  yet  not  at  all  proud, 
for  a  good  heart  is  never  proud.  He  thought 
how  he  had  been  driven  about  and  mocked  and 
despised ;  and  now  he  heard  them  all  saying  that 
he  was  the  most  beautiful  of  all  beautiful  birds. 
And  the  lilacs  bent  their  branches  straight  down 
into  the  water  before  him,  and  the  sun  shone 
warm  and  mild.  Then  his  wings  rustled,  he 
lifted  his  slender  neck,  and  cried  from  the  depths 
of  his  heart,  — 

"  I  never  dreamed  of  so  much  happiness  when 
I  was  the  Ugly  Duckling." 


THE  PRINCESS   ON   THE  PEA. 

There  was  once  a  prince  who  wanted  to 
marry  a  princess ;  but  she  was  to  be  a  real  prin- 
cess. So  he  traveled  about,  all  through  the 
world,  to  find  a  real  one,  but  everywhere  there 
was  something  in  the  way.  There  were  princesses 
enough,  but  whether  they  were  real  princesses 
he  could  not  quite  make  out :  there  was  always 
something  that  did  not  seem  quite  right.  So  he 
came  home  again,  and  was  quite  sad:  for  he 
wished  so  much  to  have  a  real  princess. 

One  evening  a  great  storm  came  on.  It 
lightened  and  thundered,  the  rain  streamed 
down ;  it  was  quite  fearful !  Then  there  was 
a  knocking  at  the  town  gate,  and  the  old  King 
went  out  to  open  it. 

It  was  a  princess  who  stood  outside  the  gate. 
But,  mercy  !  how  she  looked,  from  the  rain  and 
rough  weather  !  The  water  ran  down  from  her 
hair  and  her  clothes ;  it  ran  in  at  the  points 
of  her  shoes,  and  out  at  the  heels ;  and  yet  she 
«aid  she  was  a  real  princess. 

"Yes,  we  will  soon  find  that  out,"  thought 
the   old   Queen.     But   she   said  nothing,  only 


THE  PRINCESS   ON  THE  PEA.  3l 

went  into  the  bed-chamber,  took  all  the  bedding 
off,  and  put  a  pea  on  the  bottom  of  the  bed- 
stead ;  then  she  took  twenty  mattresses  and  laid 
them  upon  the  pea,  and  then  twenty  eider-doAivn 
beds  upon  the  mattresses. 

On  this  the  Princess  had  to  lie  all  night.  In 
the  morning  she  was  asked  how  she  had  slept. 

"  Oh,  miserably  !  "  said  the  Princess.  "  I 
scarcely  closed  my  eyes  all  night  long.  Good- 
ness knows  what  was  in  my  bed.  I  lay  upon 
sometliing  hard,  so  that  I  am  black  and  blue 
all  over.     It  is  quite  dreadful !  " 

So  they  saw  that  she  was  a  real  princess,  for 
through  the  twenty  mattresses  and  the  twenty 
eider-down  beds  she  had  felt  the  pea.  No  one 
could  be  so  tender  but  a  real  princess. 

So  the  Prince  took  her  for  his  wife,  for  now 
he  knew  he  had  a  real  princess ;  and  the  pea 
was  put  in  the  museum ;  there  it  is  now,  unless 
some  one  has  carried  it  off. 

Look  you,  that  was  a  real  story. 


THE  PINE-TREE. 
I. 

WHEN   IT   WAS    LITTLE. 

Out  in  the  woods  stood  such  a  nice  little  Pine- 
tree  ;  he  had  a  good  place  ;  the  sun  could  get  at 
him ;  there  was  fresh  air  enough ;  and  round 
him  grew  many  big  comrades,  both  pines  and 
firs.  But  the  Uttle  Pine  wanted  so  very  much 
to  be  a  grown-up  tree. 

He  did  not  think  of  the  warm  sun  and  of  the 
fresh  air,  he  did  not  care  for  the  little  cottage- 
children  who  ran  about  and  prattled  when  they 
were  looking  for  wild  strawberries  and  raspber- 
ries. Often  they  came  with  a  whole  jug  full,  or 
had  their  strawberries  strung  on  a  straw,  and  sat 
down  near  the  little  Tree  and  said,  "  Oh,  what  a 
nice  little  fellow ! "  This  was  what  the  Tree 
could  not  bear  to  hear. 

The  year  after  he  had  shot  up  a  good  deal, 
and  the  next  year  after  he  was  still  bigger ;  for 
with  pine-trees  one  can  always  tell  by  the  shoots 
how  many  years  old  they  are. 


THE  PINE-TREE.  33 

**  Oh,  were  I  but  such  a  big  tree  as  the  others 
are,"  sighed  the  little  Tree.  "Then  I  could 
spread  my  branches  so  far,  and  with  the  tops 
look  out  into  the  wide  world !  Birds  would 
build  nests  among  my  branches ;  and  when  there 
was  a  breeze,  I  could  nod  as  grandly  as  the  oth- 
ers there." 

He  had  no  delight  at  all  in  the  sunshine,  or  in 
the  birds,  or  the  red  clouds  which  morning  and 
evening  sailed  above  him. 

When  now  it  was  winter  and  the  snow  all 
around  lay  glittering  white,  a  hare  would  often 
come  leaping  along,  and  jump  right  over  the  Ht- 
tle  Tree.  Oh,  that  made  him  so  angry !  But 
two  winters  went  by,  and  with  the  third  the  Tree 
was  so  big  that  the  hare  had  to  go  round  it. 
"  Oh,  to  grow,  to  grow,  to  become  big  and  old, 
and  be  tall,"  thought  the  Tree  :  "  that,  after  all, 
is  the  most  delightful  thing  in  the  world  !  " 

In  autumn  the  wood-cutters  always  came  and 
felled  some  of  the  largest  trees.  This  happened 
every  year,  and  the  young  Pine-tree,  that  was 
now  quite  well  grown,  trembled  at  the  sight ;  iot 
the  great  stately  trees  fell  to  the  earth  with  noise 
and  cracking,  the  branches  were  lopped  off,  and 
the  trees  looked  quite  bare,  they  were  so  long 
and  thin ;  you  would  hardly  know  them  for 
trees,  and  then  they  were  laid  on  carts,  and 
horses  dragged  them  out  of  the  wood. 


34  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

Where  did  they  go  to?  What  became  of 
them? 

In  spring,  when  the  Swallow  and  the  Stork 
came,  the  Tree  asked  them,  "  Don't  you  know 
where  they  have  been  taken?  Have  you  not 
met  them  anywhere  ?  " 

The  Swallow  did  not  know  anything  about  it ; 
but  the  Stork  looked  doubtful,  nodded  his  head, 
and  said,  "  Yes ;  I  have  it ;  I  met  many  new 
ships  as  I  was  flying  from  Egypt ;  on  the  ships 
were  splendid  masts,  and  I  dare  say  it  was  they 
that  smelt  so  of  pine.  I  wish  you  joy,  for  they 
lifted  themselves  on  high  in  fine  style  !  " 

"  Oh,  were  I  but  old  enough  to  fly  across  the 
sea  !  How  does  the  sea  really  look  ?  and  what 
isithke?" 

"  Ay,  that  takes  a  long  time  to  tell,"  said  the 
Stork,  and  away  he  went. 

"  Rejoice  in  thy  youth  !  "  said  the  Sunbeams, 
"  rejoice  in  thy  hearty  growth,  and  in  the  young 
life  that  is  in  thee  1 " 

And  the  Wind  kissed  the  Tree,  and  the  Dew 
wept  tears  over  him,  but  the  Pine-tree  under- 
stood it  not. 


THE  PINE-TREE,  35 

n. 

CHRISTMAS    IN   THE    WOODS. 

When  Christmas  came,  quite  young  trees 
were  cut  down  ;  trees  which  were  not  even  so 
large  or  of  the  same  age  as  this  Pine-tree,  who 
had  no  rest  or  peace,  but  always  wanted  to  be 
off.  These  young  trees,  and  they  were  always 
the  finest  looking,  always  kept  their  branches ; 
they  were  laid  on  carts,  and  the  horses  drew 
them  out  of  the  wood. 

"  Where  are  they  going  to  ?  "  asked  the  Pine- 
tree.  "  They  are  not  taller  than  I ;  there  was 
one  indeed  that  was  much  shorter  ;  —  and  why 
do  they  keep  all  their  branches?  Where  are 
they  carrying  them  to  ?  " 

"  We  know  1  we  know  !  "  chirped  the  Spar- 
rows. "  We  have  peeped  in  at  the  windows 
down  there  in  the  town.  We  know  where  they 
are  carrying  them  to.  Oh,  they  are  going  to 
where  it  is  as  bright  and  splendid  as  you  can 
think !  We  peeped  through  the  windows,  and 
saw  them  planted  in  the  middle  of  the  warm 
room,  and  dressed  with  the  most  splendid  things, 
-^with  gilded  apples,  with  gingerbread,  with 
toys  and  many  hundred  lights  !  " 

"  And  then  ?  "  asked  the  Pine-tree,  and  he 
trembled  in  every  bough.  "  And  then  ?  What 
happens  then  ?  " 


30  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

"  We  did  not  see  anything  more  :  it  beat  ev- 
erything !  " 

"  I  wonder  if  I  am  to  sparkle  like  that !  " 
cried  the  Tree,  rejoicing.  "  That  is  still  better 
than  to  go  over  the  sea  !  How  I  do  suffer  for 
very  longing !  Were  Christmas  but  come !  I 
am  now  tall,  and  stretch  out  like  the  others 
that  were  carried  off  last  year  !  Oh,  if  I  were 
already  on  the  cart !  I  wish  I  were  in  the  warm 
room  with  all  the  splendor  and  brightness. 
And  then  ?  Yes ;  then  will  come  something 
better,  something  still  grander,  or  why  should 
they  dress  me  out  so  ?  There  must  come  some- 
thing better,  something  still  grander,  —  but 
what  ?  Oh,  how  I  long,  how  I  suffer  !  I  do 
not  know  myself  what  is  the  matter  with  me !  " 

"  Rejoice  in  us  !  "  said  the  Air  and  the  Sun- 
light ;  "  rejoice  in  thy  fresh  youth  out  here  in 
the  open  air  !  " 

But  the  Tree  did  not  rejoice  at  all ;  he  grew 
and  grew ;  and  he  stood  there  in  all  his  green- 
ery; rich  green  was  he  winter  and  summer. 
People  that  saw  him  said,  "  That 's  a  fine  tree  !  " 
and  toward  Christmas  he  was  the  first  that  was 
cut  down.  The  axe  struck  deep  into  the  very 
pith  ;  the  Tree  fell  to  the  earth  with  a  sigh  :  he 
felt  a  pang  —  it  was  like  a  swoon  ;  he  could  not 
think  of  happiness,  for  he  was  sad  at  being 
parted  from  his  home,  from  the  place  where  he 


THE  PINE-TREE,  37 

had  sprung  up.  He  well  knew  that  he  should 
never  see  his  dear  old  comrades,  the  Uttle  bushes 
and  flowers  around  him,  any  more  ;  perhaps  not 
even  the  birds  1  The  setting  off  was  not  at  all 
pleasant. 

The  Tree  only  came  to  himself  when  he  wafe 
unloaded  in  a  courtyard  with  other  trees,  and 
heard  a  man  say,  "  That  one  is  splendid !  we 
don't  want  the  others."  Then  two  servants 
came  in  rich  livery  and  carried  the  Pine-tree  into 
a  large  and  splendid  room.  Portraits  were  hang* 
ing  on  the  walls,  and  near  the  white  porcelain 
stove  stood  two  large  Chinese  vases  with  Uons  on 
the  covers.  There,  too,  were  large  easy-chairs, 
silken  sofas,  large  tables  full  of  picture-books, 
and  full  of  toys  worth  a  hundred  times  a  hun- 
dred dollars  —  at  least  so  the  children  said. 
And  the  Pine-tree  was  stuck  upright  in  a  cask 
filled  with  sand :  but  no  one  could  see  that  it 
was  a  cask,  for  green  cloth  was  hung  all  around 
it,  and  it  stood  on  a  gayly  colored  carpet.  Ohj 
how  the  Tree  quivered  !  What  was  to  happen  ? 
The  servants,  as  well  as  the  young  ladies,  dressed 
it.  On  one  branch  there  hung  little  nets  cut 
out  of  colored  paper ;  each  net  was  filled  with 
Bi^gar-plums ;  gilded  apples  and  walnuts  hung  as 
tiiough  they  grew  tightly  there,  and  more  than 
Q  hundred  little  red,  blue,  and  white  tapers  were 
btuck  fast  into  the  branches.     Dolls  that  looked 


38  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

for  all  the  world  like  men  —  the  Tree  had  nevei 
seen  such  things  before  —  fluttered  among  the 
leaves,  and  at  the  very  top  a  large  star  of  gold 
tinsel  was  fixed.  It  was  really  splendid  —  splen- 
did beyond  teUing. 

'^  This  evening  !  "  said  they  all  c;  *^  how  it  will 
shine  this  evening  !  " 

"  Oh,"  thought  the  Tree,  "  if  it  were  only 
evening  !  If  the  tapers  were  but  lighted  !  And 
then  I  wonder  what  will  happen  !  I  wonder  if 
the  other  trees  from  the  forest  will  come  to  look 
at  me !  I  wonder  if  the  sparrows  will  beat 
against  the  window-panes !  I  wonder  if  I  shall 
take  root  here,  and  stand  dressed  so  winter  and 
summer !  " 

Ay,  ay,  much  he  knew  about  the  matter ! 
but  he  had  a  real  back-ache  for  sheer  longing, 
and  a  back-ache  with  trees  is  the  same  thing  as 
a  headache  with  us. 


m. 

CHRISTMAS   IN   THE   HOUSE. 

The  candles  were  now  lighted.  What  bright- 
ness !  What  splendor  !  The  Tree  trembled  so 
in  every  bough  that  one  of  the  tapers  set  fire  t« 
a  green  branch.     It  blazed  up  splendidly. 

Now  the  Tree  did  not  even  dare  to  tremblet 


THE  PINE-TREE.  39 

That  was  a  fright !  He  was  so  afraid  of  losing 
something  of  all  his  finery,  that  he  was  quite  con- 
fused amidst  the  glare  and  brightness  ;  and  now 
both  folding-doors  opened,  and  a  troop  of  chil- 
dren rushed  in  as  if  they  would  tip  the  whole 
Tree  over.  The  older  folks  came  quietly  be= 
hind ;  the  little  ones  stood  quite  still,  but  only 
for  a  moment ;  then  they  shouted  so  that  the 
whole  place  echoed  their  shouts,  they  danced 
round  the  Tree,  and  one  present  after  another 
was  pulled  off. 

"  What  are  they  about  ?  "  thought  the  Tree. 
*^  What  is  to  happen  now  ? "  And  the  lights 
burned  down  to  the  very  branches,  and  as  they 
burned  down  they  were  put  out  one  after  the 
other,  and  then  the  children  had  leave  to  plun- 
der the  Tree.  Oh,  they  rushed  upon  it  so  that 
it  cracked  in  all  its  limbs ;  if  its  tip-top  with 
the  gold  star  on  it  hf»d  not  been  fastened  to  the 
ceiling,  it  would  have  tumbled  over. 

The  children  danced  about  with  their  pretty 
toys:  no  one  looked  at  the  Tree  except  the 
old  nurse,  who  peeped  in  among  the  branches ; 
but  it  was  only  to  see  if  there  was  a  fig  or  an 
apple  that  had  been  forgotten. 

"  A  story  !  a  story !  "  cried  the  children,  and 
they  dragged  a  Httle  fat  man  toward  the  Tree. 
He  sat  down  under  it,  and  said,  "  Now  we  are 
in  the  shade,  and  the  Tree  can  hear  very  wqII 


40  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

too.  But  I  shall  tell  only  one  story.  Now 
which  will  you  have  :  that  about  Ivedy-Avedy, 
or  about  Klumpy-Diimpy  who  tumbled  down 
stairs,  and  came  to  the  throne  after  all,  and 
married  the  princess  ?  " 

I  "  Ivedy  -  Avedy,"  cried  some  ;  "  Klumpy- 
Dumpy,"  cried  the  others.  There  was  such  a 
bawling  and  screaming  !  —  the  Pine-Tree  alone 
was  silent,  and  he  thought  to  himself,  "  Am  I 
not  to  bawl  with  the  rest  ?  —  am  I  to  do  nothing 
whatever  ?  "  for  he  was  one  of  them,  and  he  had 
done  what  he  had  to  do. 

And  the  man  told  about  Klumpy-Dumpy  who 
tumbled  down  stairs,  and  came  to  the  throne  after 
all,  and  married  the  princess.  And  the  children 
clapped  their  hands,  and  cried  out,  "  Go  on, 
go  on  ! "  They  wanted  to  hear  about  Ivedy- 
Avedy  too,  but  the  Httle  man  only  told  them 
about  Klumpy-Dumpy.  The  Pine-tree  stood 
quite  still  and  thoughtful  :  the  birds  in  the 
wood  had  never  told  anything  like  this.  "  Klum- 
py-Dumpy fell  down  stairs,  and  yet  he  married 
the  princess !  Yes,  yes  !  that 's  the  way  of  the 
world !  "  thought  the  Pine-tree,  and  he  believed 
it  all,  because  it  was  such  a  nice  man  who  told 
the  story. 

'*  Well,  well !  who  knows,  perhaps  I  may  fall 
down  stairs  too,  and  so  get  a  princess  !  "  And 
lie  looked  forward  with  joy  to  the  next  day  when 


THE  PINE-TREE,  41 

he  should  be  decked  out  with  lights  and  toys, 
fruits  and  tinsel. 

"  To-morrow  I  won't  tremble  !  "  thought  the 
Pine-tree.  '^  I  will  enjoy  to  the  full  all  my 
splendor !  To-morrow  I  shall  hear  again  the 
story  of  Klumpy-Dumpy,  and  perhaps  that  of 
Ivedy-Avedy  too."  And  the  whole  night  the 
Tree  stood  still  in  deep  thought. 

In  the  morning  the  servant  and  the  maid  came 
in. 

IV. 

IN   THE    ATTIC. 

^^  Now  all  the  finery  will  begin  again/'  thought 
the  Pine.  But  they  dragged  him  out  of  the 
room,  and  up  the  stairs  into  the  attic  ;  and  here 
in  a  dark  corner,  where  no  daylight  could  enter, 
they  left  him.  "  What 's  the  meaning  of  this  ?  " 
thought  the  Tree.  "  What  am  I  to  do  here  ? 
What  shall  I  see  and  hear  now,  I  wonder  ?  " 
And  he  leaned  against  the  wall  and  stood  and 
thought  and  thought.  And  plenty  of  time,  he 
had,  for  days  and  nights  passed,  and  nobody 
came  up ;  and  when  at  last  somebody  did  come, 
it  was  only  to  put  some  great  trunks  in  the  cor- 
ner. There  stood  the  Tree  quite  hidden ;  it 
seemed  as  if  he  had  been  entirely  forgotten. 


42  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

^^  'T  is  now  winter  out-of-doors  !  "  thought  the 
Tree.  "  The  earth  is  hard  and  covered  with 
snow ;  men  cannot  plant  me  now ;  therefore  I 
have  been  put  up  here  under  cover  till  spring  I 
How  thoughtful  that  is !  How  good  men  are, 
after  all !  If  it  were  not  so  dark  here,  and  so 
terribly  lonely!  Not  even  a  hare.  Out  there 
it  was  so  pleasant  in  the  woods,  when  the  snow 
was  on  the  ground,  and  the  hare  leaped  by ;  yes 
—  even  when  he  jumped  over  me ;  but  I  did  not 
like  it  then.     It  is  terribly  lonely  here  !  " 

"  Squeak  !  squeak !  "  said  a  little  Mouse  at 
the  same  moment,  peeping  out  of  his  hole.  And 
then  another  little  one  came.  They  snuffed 
about  the  Pine-tree,  and  rustled  among  the 
branches. 

"  It  is  dreadfully  cold,"  said  the  little  Mouse. 
^*  But  for  that;  it  would  be  delightful  here,  old 
Pine,  would  n't  it !  " 

"  I  am  by  no  means  old,"  said  the  Pine-tree. 
**  There  are  many  a  good  deal  older  than  I  am." 

"  Where  do  you  come  from?  "  asked  the  Mice; 
^^  and  what  can  you  do  ?  "  They  were  so  very 
curious.  "  Tell  us  about  the  most  beautifid 
spot  on  earth.  Have  you  been  there?  Were 
you  ever  in  the  larder,  where  cheeses  lie  on  the 
shelves,  and  hams  hang  from  above  ;  where  one 
dances  about  on  tallow  candles  ;  where  one  goes 
in  lean  and  comes  out  fat  ?  " 


THE  PINE-TREE.  43 

*^I  don't  know  that  place/'  said  the  Tree. 
^^  But  I  know  the  wood  wherie  the  sun  shines, 
and  where  the  little  birds  sing."  And  then  he 
told  his  story  from  his  youth  up ;  and  the  little 
Mice  had  never  heard  the  Kke  before  ;  and  they 
listened  and  said,  — 

"  Well,  to  be  sure !  How  much  you  have 
seen  !     How  happy  you  must  have  been  !  " 

"  I !  "  said  the  Pine-tree,  and  he  thought  over 
what  he  had  himself  told.  "  Yes,  really  those 
were  happy  times."  And  then  he  told  about 
Christmas  Eve,  when  he  was  decked  out  with 
cakes  and  candles. 

"  Oh,"  said  the  little  Mice,  "  how  lucky  you 
have  been,  old  Pine-tree  !  " 

"  I  am  not  at  all  old,"  said  he.  "  I  came  from 
the  wood  this  winter ;  I  am  in  my  prime,  and 
am  only  rather  short  of  my  age." 

"  What  delightful  stories  you  know  !  "  said 
the  Mice  :  and  the  next  night  they  came  with 
four  other  little  Mice,  who  were  to  hear  what 
the  Tree  had  to  tell ;  and  the  more  he  told,  the 
more  plainly  he  remembered  all  himself  ,-  and  he 
thought :  "  That  was  a  merry  time  !  But  it  can 
come  !  it  can  come  !  Klumpy-Dumpy  fell  down 
stairs,  and  yet  he  got  a  princess  !  May  be  I  can 
get  a  princess  too  1 "  And  all  of  a  sudden  he 
thought  of  a  nice  little  Birch-tree  growing  out 
in  the  woods :  to  the  Pine,  that  would  be  a 
really  charming  princess. 


4A  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

"  Who  is  Klumpy-Dumpy  ?  "  asked  the  little 
Mice.  So  then  the  Pine-tree  told  the  whole 
fairy  tale,  for  he  could  remember  every  single 
word  of  it ;  and  the  little  Mice  jumped  for  joy 
up  to  the  very  top  of  the  Tree.  Next  night  two 
more  Mice  came,  and  on  Sunday  two  Rats,  even ; 
but  they  said  the  stories  were  not  amusing, 
which  vexed  the  little  Mice,  because  they,  too, 
now  began  to  think  them  not  so  very  amusing 
either. 

"  Do  you  know  only  that  one  story  ?  "  asked 
the  Rats. 

"Only  that  one!"  answered  the  Tree.  "I 
heard  it  on  my  happiest  evening ;  but  I  did  not 
then  know  how  happy  I  was." 

"  It  is  a  very  stupid  story  !  Don't  you  know 
one  about  bacon  and  tallow  candles  ?  Can't  you 
tell  any  larder-stories  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  Tree. 

"  Thank  you,  then,"  said  the  Rats,  and  they 
went  home. 

At  last  the  little  Jlice  stayed  away  also ;  and 
the  Tree  sighed :  "  After  all,  it  was  very  pleas- 
ant when  the  sleek  little  Mice  sat  round  me  and 
heard  what  I  told  them.  Now  that  too  is  oven 
But  I  will  take  good  care  to  enjoy  myself  when 
I  am  brought  out  again." 

But  when  was  that  to  be  ?  Why,  it  was  one 
morning  when  there  came  a  number  of  people 


THE  PINE-TREE.  45 

and  set  to  work  in  the  loft.  The  trunks  were 
moved,  the  tree  was  pulled  out  and  thrown 
down ;  they  knocked  him  upon  the  floor,  but  a 
man  drew  him  at  once  toward  the  stairs,  where 
the  dayUght  shone. 

V. 

OUT   OP    DOORS   AGAIN. 

^^  Now  life  begins  again,"  thought  the  Tree. 
He  felt  the  fresh  air,  the  first  sunbeam,  —  and 
now  he  was  out  in  the  courtyard.  All  passed 
so  quickly  that  the  Tree  quite  forgot  to  look  to 
himself,  there  was  so  much  going  on  around 
him.  The  court  adjoined  a  garden,  and  all  was 
in  flower  ;  the  roses  hung  over  the  fence,  so  fresh 
and  smelling  so  sweetly ;  the  lindens  were  in 
blossom,  the  Swallows  flew  by,  and  said,  "  Quirre- 
virre-vit !  my  husband  is  come  !  "  but  it  was  not 
the  Pine-tree  that  they  meant. 

"  Now,  I  shall  really  Hve,"  said  he  with  joy, 
and  spread  out  his  branches ;  dear  !  dear  !  they 
were  all  dry  and  yellow.  It  was  in  a  corner 
among  weeds  and  nettles  that  he  lay.  The 
golden  star  of  tinsel  was  still  on  top  of  the  Tree, 
and  shone  in  the  bright  sunshine. 

In  the  courtyard  a  few  of  the  merry  children 
were   playing   who   had   danced    at   Christmas 


46  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

round  the  Tree,  and  were  so  glad  at  the  sight  of 
him.  One  of  the  littlest  ran  and  tore  olf  the 
golden  star. 

•^  See  what  is  still  on  the  ugly  old  Christmas 
tree  i  "  said  he,  and  he  trampled  on  the  branches, 
so  that  they  cracked  under  his  feet. 

And  the  Tree  saw  all  the  beauty  of  the  flow 
ers,  and  the  freshness  in  the  garden ;  he  saw 
himself,  and  he  wished  he  had  stayed  in  his  dark 
corner  in  the  attic:  he  thought  of  his  fresh 
youth  in  the  wood,  of  the  merry  Christmas  Eve, 
and  of  the  little  Mice  who  had  heard  so  gladly 
the  story  of  Klumpy-Dumpy. 

"  Gone !  gone !  "  said  the  poor  Tree.  "  Had 
I  but  been  happy  when  I  could  be;  Gone ! 
gone ! " 

And  the  gardener's  boy  came  and  chopped 
the  Tree  into  small  pieces ;  there  was  a  whole 
heap  lying  there.  The  wood  flamed  up  finely 
under  the  large  brewing  kettle,  and  it  sighed  so 
deeply !  Each  sigh  was  like  a  little  shot.  So 
the  children  ran  to  where  it  lay  and  sat  down 
before  the  fire,  and  peeped  in  at  the  blaze,  and 
shouted  "  Piff  !  pafE !  "  But  at  every  snap  there 
was  a  deep  sigh.  The  Tree  was  thinking  of 
summer  days  in  the  wood,  and  of  winter  nights 
when  the  stars  shone ;  it  was  thinking  of  Christ- 
mas Eve  and  Klumpy-Dumpy,  the  only  fairy 
tale  it  had  heard  and  knew  how  to  tell,  —  and  so 
the  Tree  burned  out. 


THE  PINE-TREE.  47 

The  boys  played  about  in  the  court,  and  the 
youngest  wore  the  gold  star  on  his  breast  which 
the  Tree  had  worn  on  the  happiest  evening  of 
his  life.  Now,  that  was  gone,  the  Tree  was 
gone,  and  gone  too  was  the  story.  All,  all  waa 
gone;i  and  that 's  the  way  with  all  stories. 


LUCK  MAY  LIE  IN  A  STICK. 

Now  I  am  going  to  tell  a  story  about  Luck. 
AU  of  us  know  Luck :  some  see  her  year  in, 
year  out,  some  only  at  certain  times  of  the  year, 
some  only  one  single  day  ;  —  yes,  there  are  even 
people  that  only  see  Luck  once  in  their  life ;  but 
all  of  us  do  see  her. 

I  suppose  I  need  not  tell  you,  for  each  of  you 
knows  it,  that  when  our  Lord  sends  a  little  child 
here,  He  lays  it  in  a  mother's  lap :  this  may 
happen  in  a  rich  man's  castle,  or  in  a  neat  httle 
room ;  but  then  it  may  happen  instead  in  an 
open  field,  where  the  cold  wind  blows.  But 
what  not  every  one  of  you  does  know,  and  yet 
is  really  true,  is  that  our  Lord,  when  He  places 
a  child  here,  also  sends  along  with  it  its  good 
Luck,  but  the  luck  does  not  He  openly  right  by 
its  side,  but  is  hidden  in  some  spot  on  our  globe, 
where  we  look  for  it  least;  yet  it  is  always 
found  at  last,  and  that  is  a  comfort. 

Luck  once  was  placed  in  an  apple ;  that  was 
for  a  man  whose  name  was  Newton.  The  apple 
fell,  and  thus  he  found  his  Luck.  If  you  do 
not  know  that  story,  ask  some  one  to  tell  it  to 


LUCK  MAY  LIE  IN  A   STICK-  49 

you.  I  have  another  story  to  tell  —  a  story 
about  a  pear. 

There  once  lived  a  poor  man,  who  was  bom 
poor,  and  had  grown  up  poor,  and  was  poor 
when  he  married.  He  was  a  turner  by  trade, 
and  used  to  turn  umbrella-handles  and  imibrella- 
rings,  but  he  only  earned  enough  money  by  this 
to  Uve  from  hand  to  mouth. 

"  I  shall  never  find  my  luck,"  said  he. 

Now  this  is  a  true  story.  I  could  name  the 
country  and  the  place  where  the  man  lived,  but 
that  is  no  matter.  The  red,  sour  mountain-ash 
trees  grew  around  his  house  and  in  his  garden, 
as  if  they  were  the  choicest  fruit ;  in  the  garden 
stood  also  a  pear-tree,'  but  it  had  never  borne  a 
pear,  and  yet  there  Luck  was  placed  in  an  un- 
seen pear. 

One  night,  the  wind  blew  terribly.  Men  said 
in  the  newspapers  that  the  great  stage-coach  was 
lifted  up  from  the  side  of  the  road,  and  thrown 
down  like  a  lump  of  clay ;  so  it  was  not  at  all 
strange  that  a  big  branch  should  have  been  bro- 
ken from  the  pear-tree.  The  branch  was  taken 
into  the  workshop,  and  the  man  turned  out  of  it, 
just  for  fun,  a  big  pear,  and  another  big  pear, 
then  a  smaller  pear,  and  then  several  very  small 
pears. 

"  The  tree  shall  bear  pears  once  at  least,"  he 
said,  and  gave  them  to  the  children  to  play  with. 


50  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

One  of  the  things  which  we  must  have  in  a 
X)untry  where  it  rains  is  an  umbrella.  Now  the 
whole  family  had  only  one  for  common  use. 
When  the  wind  blew  very  hard,  the  umbrella 
would  turn  over,  and  two  or  three  times  it  broke ; 
but  the  man  quickly  mended  it  again,  —  that 
was  in  his  trade.  With  the  button  and  string 
that  kept  the  umbrella  together,  it  went  worse ; 
it  would  always  break  too  soon,  just  as  one  was 
folding  the  umbrella  up. 

One  day,  the  button  broke  again,  the  man 
looked  for  it  on  the  floor,  and  got  hold  of  one 
of  the  smallest  pears  which  he  had  turned,  and 
had  given  to  the  children  to  play  with. 

"  I  can't  find  the  button,"  said  the  man,  "  but 
this  little  thing  will  do."  He  bored  a  hole  in  it, 
pulled  a  small  cord  through  it,  and  the  little 
pear  filled  the  place  of  the  broken  button  nicely ; 
it  was  just  right,  and  the  best  thing  to  hold  the 
umbrella  together  he  had  ever  had. 

Next  year,  when  the  man  had  to  send  um- 
brella handles  and  rings  to  town  where  he  sold 
his  goods,  he  sent  also  a  few  of  the  small  wooden 
pears  which  he  had  turned,  and  asked  to  have 
them  tried ;  and  so  they  came  to  America. 
They  soon  found  out  there  that  the  little  pear 
held  better  than  any  other  fastening ;  so  they 
gave  orders  that  all  the  umbrellas  sent  out 
should  be  fastened  with  a  little  wooden  pear. 


LUCK  MAY  LIE  IN  A  STICK.  51 

Ah,  there  was  plenty  to  do  now !  Pears  by 
the  thousand !  wooden  pears  on  all  umbrellas ! 
and  our  man  was  kept  busy  at  work.  He  turned 
and  turned ;  the  whole  pear-tree  was  used  for 
little  wooden  pears.  It  brought  him  coppers; 
it  brought  him  dollars. 

"In  that  pear-tree  my  Luck  was  placed," 
said  the  man.  Now  he  had  a  great  workshop, 
with  girls  and  boys  to  help  him.  He  was  all 
the  time  in  good  humor,  and  often  used  to  say, 
—  "  Luck  may  lie  in  a  stick." 

And  that  is  what  I  say  who  tell  the  story ;  we 
have  a  proverb  in  Denmark,  "  Put  a  white  stick 
in  your  mouth,  and  you  will  be  invisible ;  "  but 
it  must  be  the  right  sort  of  a  stick,  —  a  true 
lucky-stick.  I  have  had  one  of  them ;  and 
whenever  I  come  to  America,  the  land  of  the 
New  World,  which  is  so  far  off,  and  yet  so  near 
me,  I  shall  always  carry  that  stick  with  me.  I 
can  send  my  greeting  over  in  a  few  minutes ; 
the  ocean  rolls  over  to  its  shores :  there  the  wind 
blows ;  any  day  I  can  be  there  when  my  stories 
are  read,  and  perhaps  see  the  glittering  gold  re- 
ceive the  ringing  gold,  —  the  gold  that  is  best 
of  all,  which  shines  in  the  eyes  of  children,  and 
comes  ringing  from  their  Ups,  and  the  lips  of 
their  parents.  I  am  in  the  very  room  with  my 
friends,  —  and  yet  I  am  unseen.  I  have  the 
white  stick  in  my  mouth. 

Yes,  Luck  may  lie  in  a  stick. 


THE  TEA-POT. 

There  was  a  proud  Tea-pot,  proud  of  being 
porcelain,  proud  of  its  long  spout,  proud  of  its 
broad  handle ;  it  had  something  before  and  be- 
hind ;  the  spout  before,  the  handle  behind,  and 
that  was  what  it  talked  about ;  but  it  did  not 
talk  of  its  lid  —  that  was  cracked,  it  was  riveted, 
it  had  faults  and  one  does  not  talk  about  one 's 
faults,  there  are  plenty  of  others  to  do  that. 
The  cups,  the  cream-pot,  and  sugai>bowl,  the 
whole  tea-service  would  be  reminded  much  more 
of  the  lid's  weakness  and  talk  about  that,  than 
of  the  sound  handle  and  the  remarkable  spout. 
The  Tea-pot  knew  it. 

"I  know  you,"  it  said  within  itself,  "  I  know, 
well  enough  too,  my  fault,  and  I  am  well  aware 
that  in  that  very  thing  is  seen  my  humility,  my 
modesty.  We  all  have  faults,  but  then  one  also 
has  a  talent.  The  cups  get  a  handle,  the  sugar- 
bowl  a  lid,  I  get  both,  and  one  thing  besides  in 
front  which  they  never  got.  I  get  a  spout,  and 
that  makes  me  a  queen  on  the  tea-table.  The 
sugar-bowl  and  cream-pot  are  good-looking  serv- 
ing maids,  but  I  am  the  one  who  gives,  yes,  the 


THE  TEA-POT,  53 

one  high  in  council.  I  spread  abroad  a  blessing 
among  thirsty  mankind.  In  my  insides  the 
Chinese  leaves  are  worked  up  in  the  boiUng, 
tasteless  water." 

All  this  said  the  Tea-pot  in  its  fresh  young 
life.  It  stood  on  the  table  that  was  spread 
for  tea,  it  was  lifted  by  a  very  delicate  hand : 
but  the  very  deUcate  hand  was  awkward,  the 
Tea-pot  fell,  the  spout  snapped  off,  the  handle 
snapped  off,  the  lid  was  no  worse  to  speak  of  — 
the  worst  had  been  spoken  of  that.  The  Tea- 
pot lay  in  a  swoon  on  the  floor,  while  the  boiling 
water  ran  out  of  it.  It  was  a  horrid  shame,  but 
the  worst  was  that  they  jeered  at  it ;  they  jeered 
at  it,  and  not  at  the  awkward  hand. 

"  I  never  shall  lose  the  memory  of  that ! " 
said  the  Tea-pot,  when  it  afterward  talked  to  it- 
self of  the  course  of  its  life.  "  I  was  called  an 
invaUd,  and  placed  in  a  corner,  and  the  day  af- 
ter was  given  away  to  a  woman  who  begged  vict- 
uals. I  fell  into  poverty,  and  stood  dumb  both 
outside  and  in,  but  there,  as  I  stood,  began  my 
better  life.  One  is  one  thing  and  becomes  quite 
another.  Earth  was  placed  in  me  :  for  a  Tea- 
pot that  is  the  same  as  being  buried,  but  in  the 
earth  was  placed  a  flower  bulb.  Who  placed  it 
there,  who  gave  it,  I  know  not ;  given  it  was, 
and  it  took  the  place  of  the  Chinese  leaves  and 
the  boiling  water,  the  broken  handle  and  spout. 


54  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

And  the  bulb  lay  in  the  earth,  the  bulb  lay  in 
me,  it  became  my  heart,  my  Uving  heart,  such 
as  I  never  before  had.  There  was  life  in  me, 
power  and  might :  my  pulses  beat,  the  bulb  put 
forth  sprouts,  it  was  the  springing  up  of  thoughts 
and  feeUngs  :  they  burst  forth  in  flower.  I  saw  it, 
I  bore  it,  I  forgot  myself  in  its  deHght.  Blessed 
is  it  to  forget  one's  self  in  another.  The  bulb 
gave  me  no  thanks,  it  did  not  think  of  me  —  it 
was  admired  and  praised.  I  was  so  glad  at  that : 
how  happy  must  it  have  been  !  One  day  I  heard 
it  said  that  it  ought  to  have  a  better  pot.  I  was 
thumped  on  my  back  —  that  was  rather  hard  to 
bear;  but  the  flower  was  put  in  a  better  pot  — 
and  I  was  thrown  away  in  the  yard  where  I  he 
as  an  old  crock ;  but  I  have  the  memory :  that 
I  can  never  lose." 


THE  LITTLE  MATCH  GIRL. 

It  was  very,  very  cold ;  it  snowed  and  it  grew 
dark ;  it  was  the  last  evening  of  the  year,  New 
Year's  Eve.  In  the  cold  and  dark  a  poor  little 
girl,  with  bare  head  and  bare  feet,  was  walking 
through  the  streets*  When  she  left  her  own 
house  she  certainly  had  had  sHppers  on ;  but 
what  could  they  do  ?  They  were  very  big  sUp- 
pers,  and  her  mother  had  used  them  till  then,  so 
big  were  they.  The  little  maid  lost  them  as 
she  sUpped  across  the  road,  where  two  carriages 
were  rattling  by  terribly  fast.  One  slipper  was 
not  to  be  found  again,  and  a  boy  ran  away  with 
the  other.  He  said  he  could  use  it  for  a  cradle 
when  he  had  children  of  his  own. 

So  now  the  Httle  girl  went  with  her  little 
naked  feet,  which  were  quite  red  and  blue  with 
the  cold.  In  an  old  apron  she  carried  a  number 
of  matches,  and  a  bundle  of  them  in  her  hand. 
No  one  had  bought  anything  of  her  all  day  ;  no 
one  had  given  her  a  copper.  Hungry  and  cold 
she  went,  and  drew  herself  together,  poor  little 
thing !  The  snowflakes  fell  on  her  long  yellow 
hair,  which  curled  prettily  over  her  neck ;  but 


56  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

she  did  not  think  of  that  now.  In  all  the  win* 
dows  lights  were  shining,  and  there  was  a  glori- 
ous smell  of  roast  goose  out  there  in  the  street, 
it  was  no  doubt  New  Year's  Eve.  Yes,  she 
thought  of  that ! 

In  a  corner  formed  by  two  houses,  one  of 
which  was  a  little  farther  from  the  street  than 
the  other,  she  sat  down  and  crept  close.  She 
had  drawn  up  her  little  feet,  but  she  was  still 
colder,  and  she  did  not  dare  to  go  home  for  she 
had  sold  no  matches,  and  she  had  not  a  single 
cent ;  her  father  would  beat  her  and  besides,  it 
was  cold  at  home,  for  they  had  nothing  over 
them  but  a  roof  through  which  the  wind  whis- 
tled, though  straw  and  rags  stopped  the  largest 
holes. 

Her  small  hands  were  quite  numb  with  the  cold. 
Ah !  a  little  match  might  do  her  good  if  she 
only  dared  draw  one  from  the  bundle,  and  strike 
it  against  the  wall,  and  warm  her  fingers  at  it. 
She  drew  one  out.  R-r-atch  !  how  it  spluttered 
and  burned !  It  was  a  warm  bright  flame,  like 
a  little  candle,  when  she  held  her  hands  over  it ; 
it  was  a  wonderful  little  light !  It  really  seemed 
to  the  little  girl  as  if  she  sat  before  a  great  pol- 
ished stove,  with  bright  brass  feet  and  a  brass 
cover.  The  fire  burned  so  nicely ;  it  warmed 
her  so  well  —  the  little  girl  was  just  putting  out 
her  feet  to  warm  these  too,  —  when  out  went 


THE  LITTLE  MATCH  GIRL.  67 

the  flame ;  the  stove  was  gone ;  —  she  sat  with 
only  the  end  of  the  burned  match  in  her  hand. 

She  struck  another ;  it  burned ;  it  gave  a 
fight ;  and  where  it  shone  on  the  wall,  the  wall 
became  thin  like  a  veil,  and  she  could  see  through 
it  into  the  room  where  a  table  stood,  spread  with 
a  white  cloth,  and  with  china  on  it;  and  the 
roast  goose  smoked  gloriously,  stuffed  with  ap- 
ples and  dried  plums.  And  what  was  still  more 
splendid  to  behold,  the  goose  hopped  down  from 
the  dish,  and  waddled  along  the  floor,  with  a 
knife  and  fork  in  its  breast ;  straight  to  the  lit- 
tle girl  he  came.  Then  the  match  went  out,  and 
only  the  thick,  damp,  cold  wall  was  before  her. 

She  lighted  another.  Then  she  was  sitting 
under  a  beautiful  Christmas  tree ;  it  was  greater 
and  finer  than  the  one  she  had  seen  through  the 
glass  door  at  the  rich  merchant's.  Thousands 
of  candles  burned  upon  the  green  branches,  and 
colored  pictures  like  those  in  the  shop  windows 
looked  down  upon  them.  The  Uttle  girl  stretched 
forth  both  hands  toward  them ;  then  the  match 
went  out.  The  Christmas  lights  went  higher 
and  higher.  She  saw  that  now  they  were  stars 
in  the  sky :  one  of  them  fell  and  made  a  long 
line  of  fire. 

"  Now  some  one  is  dying,"  said  the  little  girl, 
for  her  old  grandmother,  the  only  person  who 
had  been  good  to  her,  but  who  was  now  dead^, 


58  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

had  said  :  "  When  a  star  falls  a  soul  mounts  up 
to  God." 

She  rubbed  another  match  against  the  wall  •, 
it  became  bright  again,  and  in  the  light  there 
stood  the  old  grandmother  clear  and  shining, 
mild  and  lovely. 

"  Grandmother  !  "  cried  the  child.  "  Oh,  take 
me  with  you !  I  know  you  will  go  when  the 
match  is  burned  out.  You  will  go  away  hke  the 
warm  stove,  the  nice  roast  goose,  and  the  great 
glorious  Christmas  tree  !  " 

And  she  hastily  rubbed  the  whole  bundle  o£ 
matches,  for  she  wished  to  hold  her  grandmother 
fast.  And  the  matches  burned  with  such  a  glow 
that  it  became  brighter  than  in  the  middle  of  the 
day;  grandmother  had  never  been  so  large  or 
60  beautiful.  She  took  the  little  girl  up  in  her 
arms,  and  both  flew  in  the  light  and  the  joy  so 
high  so  high  !  and  up  there  was  no  cold,  nor 
hunger,  nor  care  —  they  were  with  God. 

But  in  the  corner  by  the  house  sat  the  little 
girl,  with  red  cheeks  and  smihng  mouth,  frozen 
to  death  on  the  last  evening  of  the  Old  Year. 
The  New  Year's  sun  rose  upon  the  little  body, 
that  sat  there  with  the  matches,  of  which  one 
bundle  was  burned.  She  wanted  to  warm  her- 
self, the  people  said.  No  one  knew  what  fine 
things  she  had  seen,  and  in  what  glory  she  had 
gone  in  with  her  grandmother  to  the  New  Year's 
Day. 


THE  BEETLE. 
L 

IN   THE   STABLE. 

The  Emperor's  horse  was  shod  with  gold ;  a 
golden  shoe  on  each  of  its  feet. 

How  did  he  come  by  golden  shoes  ? 

He  was  the  most  lovely  creature,  with  thin 
legs,  eyes  as  wise  as  a  man's  and  a  mane  that 
hung  down  his  neck  like  a  silk  veil.  He  had 
carried  his  master  through  the  fire  and  smoke 
of  battle,  and  heard  the  bullets  whistUng  around 
him ;  he  had  kicked,  bitten,  and  taken  part  in 
the  fight  when  the  enemy  advanced ;  and  had 
sprung,  with  his  master  on  his  back,  over  the 
fallen  foe,  and  had  saved  the  crown  of  red  goldc 
and  the  life  of  the  Emperor,  which  was  more 
valuable  than  the  red  gold  ;  and  that  is  why  the 
Emperor's  horse  had  golden  shoes,  a  golden  shoe 
on  each  foot. 

And  the  Beetle  came  creeping  forth. 

"First  the  great  ones,"  said  he,  "and  then 
the  little  ones  ;  but  greatness  is  not  the  only 
thing  that  does  it."  And  so  saying,  he 
stretched  out  his  thin  legs. 


60  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  asked  the  Smith. 

"  Golden  shoes/'  replied  the  Beetle. 

"  You  must  be  out  of  your  senses,"  cried  the 
Smith.  "  Do  you  want  to  have  golden  shoes, 
too?" 

"  Golden  shoes  !  "  said  the  Beetle.  "  Am  I 
not  just  as  good  as  that  big  beast  yonder,  that 
is  waited  on,  and  brushed,  and  has  meat  and 
drink  put  before  him  ?  Don't  I  too  belong  to 
the  Emperor's  stable  ?  " 

"  But  why  does  the  horse  have  golden  shoes  ? 
Don't  you  understand  that  ?  "  asked  the  Smith. 

"  Understand  ?  I  understand  that  it  is  a 
slight  put  upon  me,"  cried  the  Beetle.  "  It  is  a 
shame,  —  and  therefore  I  am  going  into  the 
mde  world." 

"  Go  along  !  "  said  the  Smith. 

"  You  're  a  rude  fellow  !  "  cried  the  Beetle : 
and  then  he  went  out  of  the  stable,  flew  a  lit- 
tle way,  and  soon  afterward  found  himself  in  a 
beautiful  garden,  that  smelled  sweetly  of  roses 
and  lilacs. 

IL 

OUT    IN   THE   WORLD. 

"Is  it  not  beautiful  here? "  asked  one  of  the 
little  Lady-birds  that  flew  about  with  black  dots 


THE  BEETLE,  61 

on  their  wings  that  were  like  strong  red  shields, 
*'  How  sweet  it  is  here  —  how  beautiful !  " 

"  I  'm  used  to  better  things,"  said  the  Beetle. 
"Do  you  caU  this  beautiful?  Why,  there  is 
not  so  much  as  a  dung  heap." 

Then  he  went  on,  under  the  shadow  of  a 
great  stack :  a  caterpillar  was  crawling  along 
there. 

"  How  beautiful  the  world  is ! "  said  the 
Caterpillar :  "  the  sim  is  so  warm,  and  all  is  so 
charming.  And  when  I  go  to  sleep,  and  die,  as 
they  call  it,  I  shall  wake  up  as  a  butterfly." 

"  You  are  making  believe  !  "  exclaimed  the 
Beetle.  "  You  fly  about  as  a  butterfly,  indeed  ! 
I  've  come  out  of  the  stable  of  the  Emperor,  but 
no  one  there,  not  even  the  Emperor's  favorite 
horse  —  that  by  the  way  wears  my  cast  off  golden 
shoes  —  has  any  such  idea.  Get  wings  !  fly ! 
why  I  can  fly  now;"  and  so  the  Beetle  flew 
away.  "  I  don't  want  to  be  vexed,  and  yet  I  am 
vexed,"  he  said. 

Soon  afterward  he  fell  down  upon  a  great 
grass  plat.  For  a  while  he  lay  there,  and  then 
he  fell  asleep. 

Suddenly  what  a  shower  of  rain  came  down  \ 
The  Beetle  woke  up  at  the  noise,  and  wanted-  to 
escape  into  the  earth,  but  could  not.  He  waa 
tumbled  over  and  over  :  sometimes  he  was  swim- 
ming on  his  stomach,  sometimes   on  his   back^ 


62  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

and  as  for  flying,  that  was  not  to  be  thought  of; 
he  was  afraid  he  should  never  get  off  ahve,  so 
he  just  lay  there. 

When  it  lifted  a  little,  and  the  Beetle  had 
rubbed  the  water  out  of  his  eyes,  he  saw  some* 
thing  gleaming.  It  was  linen  that  had  been 
placed  there  to  bleach.  He  made  his  way  up  to 
it,  and  crept  into  a  fold  of  the  damp  linen^ 
Certainly  the  place  was  not  so  comfortable  to  lie 
in  as  the  warm  stable ;  but  there  was  no  better 
to  be  had,  and  so  he  lay  there  for  a  whole  day 
and  a  whole  night,  and  the  rain  kept  on  during 
all  the  time.  Toward  morning  the  Beetle  crept 
forth :  he  was  very  much  out  of  temper  about 
the  climate. 

On  the  linen  two  frogs  were  sitting.  Their 
bright  eyes  shone  with  pleasure. 

"  Wonderful  weather  this ! "  one  of  them 
cried.  "  How  refreshing  !  And  the  Hnen  keeps 
the  water  together  so  beautifully.  My  hind  legs 
seem  to  quiver  as  if  I  were  going  to  swim." 

"  I  should  like  to  know,"  said  the  second,  "  if 
the  swallow,  who  flies  so  far  round  in  her  many 
journeys  in  foreign  lands,  has  found  a  better  cli' 
mate  than  this.  Such  drizzle !  such  wet !  It  is 
really  as  if  one  were  lying  in  a  wet  ditch.  If 
one  does  not  like  this,  then  he  does  not  love  his 
fatherland." 

*^Have  you  ever  been  in  the  Emperor's  st» 


THE  BEETLE,  63 

ble  ?  "  asked  the  Beetle.  "  There  the  dampness 
is  warm  and  refreshing.  That  *s  the  climate  for 
me ;  but  I  cannot  take  it  with  me  on  my  jour- 
ney. Is  there  never  a  muck-heap  here  in  the 
garden,  where  a  person  of  rank,  hke  me,  can  go 
and  feel  himself  at  home  ?  " 

But  the  Frogs  either  did  not  or  would  not  un- 
derstand him. 

"I  never  ask  a  question  twice!"  said  the 
Beetle,  after  he  had  asked  three  times  without 
getting  any  answer. 

So  he  went  on  a  bit,  where  lay  a  broken 
flower  pot;  it  ought  not  to  have  been  lying 
there ;  but  as  it  was  once  there,  it  gave  a  shel- 
ter. Here  lived  several  families  of  Earwigs; 
they  did  not  want  much  house  room ;  they  only 
wanted  to  be  close  together.  The  females  were 
all  full  of  motherly  pride,  so  each  thought  her 
child  the  prettiest  and  smartest. 

"  Our  son  is  engaged,"  said  one  mother. 
"  Dear,  innocent  boy  1  His  greatest  hope  is  that 
he  may  creep  one  day  into  a  parson's  ear.  He 
is  such  a  dear  little  fellow ;  and  being  engaged 
will  keep  him  steady.     What  joy  for  a  mother !  " 

"  Our  son,"  said  another  mother,  "  had 
scarcely  crept  out  of  the  egg,  when  he  was  off 
on  his  travels.  He 's  all  life  and  spirits ;  he  '11 
run  his  horns  off!  that  is  a  huge  joy  for  a 
mother!  Is  it  not  so,  Mr.  Beetle?"  for  she 
knew  the  stranger  by  his  horny  coat. 


64  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

"  You  are  both  quite  right,"  said  he  ;  so  they 
begged  him  to  walk  in,  —  that  is  to  say,  to  come 
as  far  as  he  could  under  the  bit  of  pottery. 

"  Now  you  shall  also  see  my  little  earwig," 
said  a  third  mother  and  a  fourth ;  "  they  are 
lovely  little  things,  and  so  cunning.  They  are 
never  ill -behaved,  except  when  they  have  a 
stomach-ache ;  but  one  is  very  apt  to  have  that 
at  their  age." 

Thus  each  mother  spoke  of  her  baby ;  and 
the  babies  talked  among  themselves,  and  used 
the  little  nippers  they  have  in  their  tails  to  nip 
the  beard  of  the  Beetle. 

"  Yes,  they  are  always  busy  about  something, 
the  little  rogues  1 "  said  the  mothers ;  and  they 
quite  beamed  with  motherly  pride  ;  but  the  Bee- 
tle felt  bored  by  it,  and  so  he  asked  how  far  it 
was  to  the  nearest  muck-heap. 

"  That  is  quite  out  in  the  big  world,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  ditch,"  said  an  Earwig ;  "  so 
far  that  I  hope  none  of  my  children  will  go 
there,  for  it  would  be  the  death  of  me." 

"  But  /  shall  try  to  get  so  far,"  said  the  Bee- 
tle;  and  he  went  off  without  saying  good-by; 
that 's  a  very  poUte  way. 

By  the  ditch  he  met  several  friends  —  beetles, 
all  of  them. 

"Here  we  live,"  they  said.  "We  are  very 
well  off  here.     Might  we  ask  you  to  step  down 


THE  BEETLE.  65 

into  this  rich  mud  ?     You  must  be  tired  after 
your  journey." 

"That  I  have  been!"  said  the  Beetle.  '•'I 
have  been  upon  linen  in  the  rain,  and  cleanliness 
takes  the  life  out  of  me.  I  have  also  a  pain  in 
one  of  my  wings,  from  standing  in  a  draught 
under  a  pit  of  pottery.  It  is  really  quite  re- 
freshing  to   be   among   my    own   people   once 


more." 


$9 


"Perhaps   you    come   from  a  muck-heap? 
said  the  oldest  of  them. 

"  Higher  up/'  said  the  Beetle.  "  I  come  from 
the  Emperor's  stable,  where  I  was  born  with 
golden  shoes  on  my  feet.  I  am  traveling  on  a 
secret  errand.  You  must  not  ask  me  what  it  is, 
for  I  can't  tell  you." 

With  this  the  Beetle  stepped  down  into  the 
rich  mud.  There  sat  three  young  maiden  Bee- 
tles ;  and  they  tittered,  because  they  did  not 
know  what  to  say. 

"  Not  one  of  them  is  engaged  yet,"  said  their 
mother;  and  so  they  tittered  again,  this  time 
because  they  were  so  confused. 

"  I  have  never  seen  prettier  ones  in  the  Emr 
peror's  stables,"  said  the  traveled  Beetle. 

"Don't  spoil  my  girls,"  said  the  mother; 
*^and  don't  talk  to  them,  please,  unless  you  mean 
what  you  say.  But  of  course  you  are  in  earnest, 
and  therefore  I  give  you  my  blessing." 


66  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

"  Hurrah  !  "  cried  all  the  other  Beetles  ;  and 
our  friend  was  engaged.  First  the  engagement, 
then  the  wedding,  for  there  was  nothing  to  wait 
for. 

The  next  day  went  off  all  right ;  the  one  after 
lagged,  but  on  the  third  it  was  time  to  think  of 
food  for  the  wife,  and  perhaps  for  little  beetles. 

"  I  have  let  myself  be  taken  in,"  said  our 
Beetle.  "  And  now  there 's  nothing  for  it  but 
to  take  them  in,  in  turn." 

So  said,  so  done.  Away  he  went;  he  was 
gone  all  day;  he  was  gone  all  night;  and  his 
wife  sat  there  a  widow. 

The  other  Beetles  said  that  this  fellow  was  a 
tramp  whom  they  had  taken  into  their  family ; 
and  now  his  wife  was  on  their  hands. 


m. 

A   PRISONER. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  Beetle  was  on  his  jour- 
ney, and  had  sailed  across  the  ditch  on  a  cab- 
bage-leaf. In  the  morning  two  persons  came  to 
the  ditch.  When  they  saw  the  Beetle,  they  took 
him  up,  and  turned  him  over,  and  looked  very 
learned,  at  least  one  of  them  did  —  a  boy. 

"Allah  sees  the  black  beetle  in  the  black 
stone  and  in  the  black  rock.    Is  not  that  written 


THE  BEETLE,  67 

In  the  Koran  ?  "  he  asked,  and  then  he  translated 
the  Beetle's  name  into  Latin,  and  told  all  ^bout 
his  kind.  The  older  scholar  voted  for  carrying 
him  home  with  them.  They  had  some  more  just 
like  him,  he  said ;  this  was  not  very  polite,  the 
Beetle  thought,  and  so  he  flew  out  of  the  speak- 
er's hand.  He  flew  quite  a  bit,  as  he  now  had 
dry  wings,  and  so  reached  a  hot-bed,  where  in 
the  nicest  way  a  sash  of  the  glass  roof  was  partly 
open  ;  he  quietly  slipped  in  and  buried  himself 
in  the  warm  earth. 

"  It  is  just  right  here,"  said  he. 

Soon  after  he  fell  asleep,  and  dreamed  that 
the  Emperor's  horse  had  fallen,  and  that  Mr. 
Beetle  had  got  his  golden  shoes,  with  the  prom- 
ise of  two  more. 

.  That  was  all  very  charming,  and  when  the 
Beetle  woke,  he  crept  out  and  looked  around 
him.  How  grand  it  was  in  the  hot-house ! 
Great  palm-trees  grew  up  to  the  roof ;  the  sun 
made  them  transparent ;  and  beneath  them  there 
was  a  mass  of  green,  and  flowers  bloomed  red  as 
fire,  yellow  as  amber,  or  white  as  fresh-fallen 
snow. 

"  There  never  was  such  a  lot  of  plants,"  cried 
the  Beetle.  "  How  good  they  will  taste  when 
they  begin  to  rot !  A  capital  store-room  this ! 
Some  of  my  family  must  be  living  here.  I  will 
just  track  about  and  see  if  I  can  find  any  one 


68  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

with  whom  I  may  keep  company.  1  'm  proud, 
certamly,  and  I  'm  proud  of  being  proud." 

And  so  he  went  about  and  thought  of  his 
dream  about  the  dead  horse,  and  the  golden 
shoes  that  had  come  to  him. 

All  at  once  a  hand  seized  the  Beetle,  and 
pressed  him,  and  turned  him  round  and  round. 

The  gardener's  httle  son  and  a  companion 
had  come  to  the  hot-house,  had  spied  the  Beetle^ 
and  wanted  to  have  some  fun  with  him.  First, 
he  was  wrapped  in  a  vine-leaf,  and  then  put  into 
warm  trousers  pocket.  He  cribbled  and  crab- 
bled  about  there  with  all  his  might ;  but  he  got 
a  good  squeeze  from  the  boy's  hand,  and  then 
they  went  quickly  toward  the  large  pond  that 
lay  at  the  end  of  the  garden.  Here  the  Beetle 
was  put  in  an  old  broken  wooden  shoe,  a  little 
stick  was  placed  upright  for  a  mast,  and  to  this 
mast  the  Beetle  was  bound  with  a  woolen  thread. 
Now  he  was  the  captain  and  had  to  sail  away. 

It  was  a  great  big  lake,  so  it  seemed  to  the 
Beetle,  a  real  ocean ;  and  he  was  so  astonished 
that  he  fell  over  on  his  back,  and  kicked  out 
with  his  legs. 

The  wooden  shoe  sailed  away.  There  was  a 
current  in  the  water,  but  whenever  the  vessel 
went  too  far  out,  one  of  the  boys  turned  up  his 
trousers  and  went  in  after  it,  and  brought  it 
back  to  the  land.     But  when  it  was  again  in  the 


THE  BEETLE.  69 

current,  the  boys  were  called  for,  and  very 
loudly  too ;  so  off  they  went,  and  left  the  wooden 
shoe  to  be  a  wooden  shoe.  Thus  it  drove  away 
from  the  shore,  farther  and  farther  into  the  open 
sea ;  it  was  awf id  for  the  Beetle ;  he  could  not 
fly  away,  for  he  was  bound  to  the  mast. 

Then  a  Fly  came  and  paid  him  a  visit. 

"  What  fine  weather  we  are  having  1 "  said  the 
Fly.  "  I  'U  rest  here,  and  sun  myself.  You  are 
having  a  good  time." 

"  You  talk  as  if  you  knew  all  about  it,"  re- 
plied the  Beetle.  "Don't  you  see  that  I'm 
tied?" 

"  Ah !  but  I  'm  not  tied,"  said  the  Fly ;  and  so 
he  flew  away. 

HOME   AGAIN. 

"  Well,  now  I  know  the  world,"  said  the  Bee- 
tle to  himself.  "It  is  a  mean  world.  I 'm  the 
only  honest  man  in  it.  First,  they  refuse  me  my 
golden  shoes ;  then  I  have  to  lie  on  wet  hnen, 
and  to  stand  in  the  draught ;  and  at  last  beggar 
myself  with  a  wife.  If  I  take  a  quick  step  out 
into  the  world,  and  see  how  it  is  out  there,  and 
how  I  think  it  ought  to  be,  one  of  these  boys 
comes  along  and  ties  me  up  out  on  the  wild  sea. 


70  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

And  all  the  while  the  Emperor's  horse  goes 
about  in  golden  shoes.  That  is  what  annoys  me 
more  than  all.  But  one  must  not  look  for  pity 
in  this  world  !  My  career  has  been  very  inter- 
esting ;  but  what 's  the  use  of  that,  if  nobody 
knows  it  ?  The  world  does  not  deserve  to  know 
it,  or  it  would  have  given  me  golden  shoes  in  the 
Emperor's  stable,  when  the  Emperor's  horse 
stretched  out  his  feet  to  be  shod.  If  I  had  got 
golden  shoes,  I  should  have  been  an  honor  to 
the  stable.  Now,  the  stable  has  lost  me,  and  the 
world  has  lost  me.     It  is  aU  over  !  " 

But  all  was  not  yet  over.  A  boat  came  along 
with  some  young  girls  in  it. 

"  There  is  an  old  wooden  shoe  sailing  along," 
said  one  of  the  girls. 

"There's  a  little-  creature  tied  fast  on  it,'' 
said  another. 

The  boat  came  quite  close  to  the  wooden 
shoe,  they  picked  it  up,  and  one  of  the  girls 
drew  a  small  pair  of  scissors  from  her  pocket, 
and  cut  the  woolen  thread  without  hurting  the 
Beetle ;  and  when  she  stepped  on  shore,  she  put 
him  down  on  the  grass. 

"  Creep,  creep  —  fly,  fly  —  if  thou  canst,"  she 
said.     "  Freedom  is  a  fine  thing." 

And  the  Beetle  flew  straight  in  at  the  open 
window  of  a  great  building ;  there  he  sank 
down,  tired  out,  on  the  fine,  soft,  long  mane  of 


THE  BEETLE,  71 

the  Emperor's  horse,  who  stood  in  the  stable 
where  he  and  the  Beetle  were.  The  Beetle 
clung  fast  to  the  mane,  and  sat  there  a  little 
while  and  hummed  to  himself. 

"  Here  I  am  sitting  on  the  Emperor's  horse, 
—  sitting  on  him  just  like  a  rider.  But  what 
was  I  saying  ?  Oh,  now  I  remember.  That 's  a 
good  idea  and  quite  correct.  Why  did  the  horse 
have  golden  shoes  ?  That  is  what  he  asked  me, 
the  Snlith.  Now  I  see  very  clearly.  The  horse 
got  them  for  my  sake." 

And  now  the  Beetle  was  in  good  temper 
again. 

"  One  gets  his  head  clear  by  travel,"  said  he. 

The  sun  shone  in  upon  him,  and  shone 
brightly. 

"  The  world  is  not  so  bad  upon  the  whole," 
said  the  Beetle ;  "  but  one  must  know  how  to 
take  it."  The  world  was  charming,  because  the 
Emperor's  horse  had  golden  shoes,  since  the 
Beetle  was  to  be  his  rider. 

"  Now  I  '11  get  down  and  see  the  other  beetles 
and  tell  them  how  much  has  been  done  for  me. 
I  will  tell  all  the  haps  I  have  had  on  my  travels, 
and  I  will  say  that  I  shall  stay  at  home  as  long 
as  the  horse  keeps  his  gold  shoes  shiny." 


n 


THE  DAISY. 

Now  you  shall  hear ! 

Out  in  the  country,  close  by  the  road,  there 
was  a  country-house  :  you  certainly  have  seen  it 
yourself,  once  at  least.  Before  it  is  a  little  gar- 
den with  flowers,  and  a  fence  which  is  painted. 
Close  by  it,  by  the  ditch,  in  the  midst  of  the 
most  beautiful  green  grass,  grew  a  little  Daisy. 
The  sun  shone  as  warmly  and  as  brightly  upon 
it  as  on  the  great  splendid  show  flowers  in  the 
garden,  and  so  it  grew  from  hour  to  hour.  One 
morning  it  stood  in  full  bloom,  with  its  little  shin- 
ing white  leaves  that  spread  like  rays  round  the 
little  yellow  sun  in  the  centre.  It  never  cared 
that  no  man  would  notice  it  down  in  the  grass, 
and  that  it  was  a  poor  despised  flower :  no,  it 
was  very  merry,  and  turned  to  the  warm  sun, 
looked  up  at  it,  and  listened  to  the  Lark  that 
sang  in  the  sky. 

The  little  Daisy  was  as  happy  as  if  it  were  a 
gre,at  hoUday,  and  yet  it  was  only  a  Monday. 
All  the  children  were  at  school ;  and  while  they 
sat  on  their  benches  and  learned  something,  it 
sat  on  its  Uttle  green  stalk,  and  learned  also  from 


THE  DAISY,  73 

the  warm  sun,  and  from  all  around,  how  good 
God  is,  and  how  it  seemed  as  if  the  little  Lark 
sang  clearly  and  sweetly  all  that  the  Daisy  felt 
in  silence.  And  the  Daisy  looked  up  with  a 
kind  of  respect  to  the  happy  bird  who  could  sing 
and  fly ;  but  it  was  not  at  all  sad  because  it 
could  not  fly  and  sing  also. 

"  I  can  see  and  hear,"  it  thought :  "  the  sun 
shines  on  me,  and  the  wind  kisses  me.  Oh,  how 
much  I  have  had  given  me !  " 

Within  the  fence  stood  many  stiff,  proud  flow- 
ers—  the  less  scent  they  had  the  more  they 
strutted.  The  peonies  blew  themselves  out  to  be 
greater  than  the  roses,  but  it  is  not  size  that  will 
do  that ;  the  tulips  had  the  most  splendid  colors, 
and  they  knew  that,  and  held  themselves  bolt 
upright,  that  they  might  be  seen  more  plainly. 
They  did  not  notice  the  little  Daisy  outside 
there,  but  the  Daisy  looked  at  them  the  morcj 
and  thought :  — 

"  How  rich  and  beautiful  they  are  !  Yes,  the 
pretty  bird  flies  across  to  them  and  visits  them. 
How  glad  I  am  that  I  stand  so  near  them,  for  at 
any  rate  I  can  look  at  them  !  "  And  just  as  it 
thought  that  —  "  keevit !  "  —  down  came  flying 
the  Lark,  but  not  down  to  the  peonies  and  tulips 
—  no,  down  into  the  grass  to  the  lowly  Daisy, 
which  started  so  with  joy  that  it  did  not  know 
what  to  think. 


74  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

The  little  bird  danced  round  about  it  and 
sang:  — 

"  Oh,  how  soft  the  grass  is  I  and  see  what  a 
sweet  flower,  with  gold  in  its  heart  and  silver  on 
its  dress !  " 

For  the  yellow  point  in  the  Daisy  looked  Uke 
gold,  and  the  little  leaves  around  it  shone  silvery 
white. 

How  happy  was  the  little  Daisy  —  no  one  can 
conceive  how  happy !  The  bird  kissed  it  with 
his  beak,  sang  to  it,  and  then  flew  up  again  into 
the  blue  air.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  passed,  at 
least,  before  the  Daisy  could  come  to  itself  again. 
Half  ashamed,  yet  glad  at  heart,  it  looked  at  the 
other  flowers  in  the  garden,  for  they  had  seen 
the  honor  and  happiness  it  had  gained,  and  must 
know  what  joy  it  was.  But  the  tuhps  stood  up 
just  as  stiff  as  before,  and  they  looked  quite 
peaky  in  the  face  and  quite  red,  for  they  had 
been  vexed.  The  peonies  were  quite  wrong- 
headed  ;  bah  !  it  was  well  they  could  not  speak, 
or  the  Daisy  would  have  got  a  good  scolding. 
The  poor  Httle  flower  could  see  very  well  that 
they  were  not  in  a  good  humor,  and  that  hurt 
its  feeHngs.  At  this  moment  there  came  into 
the  garden  a  girl  with  a  great  sharp,  shining 
knife ;  she  went  straight  up  to  the  tuHps,  and 
cut  off  one  after  another  of  them. 

"  Oh  ! "  sighed  the  little  Daisy,  "  that  was 
dreadful !     Now  it  is  all  over  with  them/' 


THE  DAISY,  75 

Then  the  girl  went  away  with  the  tulips.  The 
Daisy  was  glad  that  it  stood  out  in  the  grass,  and 
was  only  a  poor  httle  flower  ;  it  felt  very  grate- 
ful ;  and  when  the  sun  went  down  it  folded  its 
leaves  and  went  to  sleep,  and  dreamed  all  night 
long  of  the  sun  and  the  Uttle  bird. 

The  next  morning,  when  the  flower  again  hap- 
pily stretched  out  all  its  white  leaves,  like  little 
arms,  toward  the  air  and  the  light,  it  heard  the 
voice  of  the  bird  and  knew  it,  but  the  song  he 
sang  was  a  sad  one.  Yes,  the  poor  Lark  had 
good  reason  to  be  sad  :  he  was  caught,  and  now 
sat  in  a  cage  close  by  the  open  window.  He 
sang  of  free  and  happy  roaming,  sang  of  the 
young  green  corn  in  the  fields,  and  of  the  glori- 
ous journey  he  might  make  on  his  wings  high 
up  in  the  air.  The  poor  bird  was  not  in  good 
spirits,  for  there  he  sat  shut  up  in  a  cage. 

The  little  Daisy  wished  very  much  to  help 
him.  But  what  was  it  to  do  ?  Yes,  that  was 
hard  to  make  out.  It  quite  forgot  how  pretty 
everything  about  it  was,  how  warm  the  sun 
shone,  and  how  clear  white  its  own  leaves  were. 
Ah  !  it  could  think  only  of  the  bird  that  was 
shut  up,  and  how  it  was  not  able  to  do  anything 
for  him. 

Just  then  two  little  boys  came  out  of  the  gar- 
den. One  of  them  had  a  knife  in  his  hand  ;  it 
was  big  and  sharp  hke  that  which  the  girl  had 


76  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES, 


^ 


used  when  she  cut  off  the  tulips.  They  went 
straight  up  to  the  little  Daisy,  which  could  not 
at  all  make  out  what  they  wanted. 

"  Here  we  may  cut  a  capital  piece  of  turf  for 
the  Lark,"  said  one  of  the  boys ;  and  he  began 
to  cut  off  a  square  patch  round  about  the  Daisy, 
so  that  the  flower  remained  standing  in  its  piece 
of  grass. 

"  Tear  off  the  flower  !  "  said  the  other  boy ; 
and  the  Daisy  trembled  with  fear,  for  to  be  torn 
off  would  be  to  lose  its  life ;  and.  now  it  wanted 
so  much  to  live  since  it  was  to  be  in  the  cage 
with  the  piece  of  turf  for  the  captive  Lark. 

"  No,  let  it  stay,"  said  the  other  boy ;  "  it 
looks  so  nice."  And  so  it  was  left,  and  was  put 
into  the  cage  with  the  Lark. 

But  the  poor  bird  moaned  aloud  over  his  lost 
liberty,  and  beat  his  wings  against  the  wires  of 
his  cage;  the  little  Daisy  could  not  speak  — 
could  say  no  word  of  comfort  to  him,  gladly  as 
it  would  have  done  so.  And  thus  the  whole 
morning  passed. 

"  There  is  no  water  here,"  said  the  captive 
Lark.  "  They  are  all  gone  out,  and  have  for- 
gotten to  give  me  anything  to  drink.  My  throat 
is  dry  and  burning.  It  is  like  fire  and  ice  within 
me,  and  the  air  is  so  close.  Oh,  I  must  die !  I 
must  leave  the  warm  sunshine,  the  fresh  green, 
and  all  the  splendor  that  God  has  created ! " 


THE  DAISY.  77 

And  then  he  thrust  his  beak  into  the  cool  turf 
to  refresh  himself  a  little  with  it.  His  eyes  fell 
upon  the  Daisy  and  the  bird  nodded  to  it,  and 
kissed  it  with  his  beak,  and  said,  — 

"  You  also  must  wither  in  here,  poor  little 
flower.  They  have  given  you  to  me  with  the 
little  patch  of  green  grass  on  which  you  grow, 
instead  of  the  whole  world  which  was  mine  out 
there  !  Every  little  blade  of  grass  shall  be  a 
great  tree  for  me,  and  every  one  of  your  white 
leaves  a  fragrant  flower.  Ah,  you  only  tell  me 
how  much  I  have  lost !  " 

"  If  I  could  only  comfort  him  !  "  thought  the 
Daisy,  but  it  could  not  stir  a  leaf  ;  but  the  scent 
which  streamed  forth  from  its  thin  leaves  was 
far  stronger  than  is  often  found  in  these  flowers  ; 
the  bird  also  noticed  that,  and  though  he  was 
fainting  with  thirst,  and  in  his  pain  plucked  up 
the  green  blades  of  grass,  he  did  not  touch  the 
flower. 

Evening  came  on,  and  yet  nobody  came  to 
bring  the  poor  bird  a  drop  of  water.  Then  he 
stretched  out  his  pretty  wings  and  beat  the  air 
with  them  in  a  frenzy  ;  his  song  was  a  sad  peep ! 
peep !  his  little  head  sank  down  toward  the 
flower,  and  the  bird's  heart  broke  with  want  and 
longing.  Then  the  flower  could  not  fold  its 
leaves  and  sleep  as  it  had  done  the  evening  be- 
fore; it  hung  sick  and  mourning,  toward  the 
earth. 


78  BANS  ANDERSEirS  STORIES. 

Not  till  the  next  morning  did  the  boys  come  ; 
and  when  they  found  the  bird  dead  they  wept 
—  wept  many  tears,  —  and  dug  him  a  neat 
grave,  and  made  it  pretty  with  leaves  of  flowers. 
The  bird's  body  was  put  into  a  pretty  red  box, 
for  he  was  to  be  royally  buried  —  the  poor  bird ! 
While  he  was  aUve  and  sang  they  forgot  him, 
and  let  him  sit  in  his  cage  and  suffer  want ;  now 
he  lay  in  state  and  many  tears  were  shed  over 
him. 

But  the  patch  of  turf  with  the  Daisy  on  it  was 
thrown  out  into  the  road :  no  one  thought  of 
the  flower  that  had  felt  the  most  for  the  little 
bird,  and  wished  so  much  to  comfort  him. 


THE  CONSTANT  TIN  SOLDIER. 

There  were  once  five-and-twenty  tin  soldiers ; 
they  were  all  brothers,  for  they  had  all  been 
born  of  one  old  tin  spoon.  They  held  guns, 
and  looked  straight  before  them ;  their  uniform 
was  red  and  blue,  and  very  fine.  The  first 
thing  they  had  heard  in  the  world,  when  the  lid 
was  taken  off  the  box,  in  which  they  lay,  had 
been  the  words  "  Tin  soldiers ! "  a  little  boy 
spoke  up  and  clapped  his  hands.  The  soldiers 
had  been  given  to  him,  for  it  was  his  birthday  ; 
and  now  he  put  them  on  the  table,  iijach  sol- 
dier was  exactly  like  the  rest ;  but  one  of  them 
was  a  little  different ;  he  had  one  leg  because 
he  had  been  cast  last  of  all,  and  there  had  not 
been  enough  tin  to  finish  him ;  but  he  stood  as 
firmly  upon  his  one  leg  as  the  others  on  their 
two  ;  and  it  was  just  this  soldier  who  became 
worth  talking  about. 

On  the  table  on  which  they  had  been  placed 
stood  many  other  playthings,  but  the  toy  that 
most  took  the  eye  was  a  neat  castle  of  card- 
board. Through  the  little  windows  one  could 
see  straight  into  the  hall.     Outside  stood  some 


80  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

small  trees  and  a  little  looking-glass,  which  was 
made  to  look  like  a  clear  lake.  Swans  of  wax 
swam  on  this  lake,  and  looked  at  themselves  in 
it.  This  was  all  very  pretty ;  but  the  prettiest 
of  all  was  a  little  lady,  who  stood  at  the  open 
door  of  the  castle ;  she  was  cut  out  in  paper, 
but  she  had  a  dress  of  the  clearest  gauze,  and  a 
little  narrow  blue  ribbon  over  her  shoulders,  that 
looked  Hke  a  scarf ;  and  in  the  middle  of  this 
ribbon  was  a  shining  tinsel  rose,  as  big  as  her 
whole  face.  The  little  lady  stretched  out  both 
her  arms,  for  she  was  a  dancer,  and  then  she 
lifted  one  foot  so  high  in  the  air  that  the  Tin 
Soldier  could  not  see  it  at  all,  and  thought  that, 
like  himself,  she  had  but  one  leg. 

*^  That  would  be  the  wife  for  me,"  thought 
he ;  "  but  she  is  very  grand.  She  lives  in  a  cas- 
tle, and  I  have  only  a  box,  and  there  are  five- 
and-twenty  of  us  in  that.  It  is  no  place  for  her. 
But  I  must  try  to  make  friends  with  her." 

And  then  he  lay  down  at  full  length  behind 
a  snuff-box  which  was  on  the  table ;  there  he 
could  easily  watch  the  little  dainty  lady,  who 
still  stood  on  one  leg  without  losing  her  balance. 
When  the  evening  came,  all  the  tin  soldiers  were 
put  in  their  box,  and  the  people  in  the  house 
went  to  bed.  Now  the  toys  began  to  play  at 
*'  visiting,"  and  at  ^'  war,"  and  "  giving  balls." 
The  tin  soldiers  rattled  in  their  box,  for  they 


THE  CONSTANT  TIN  SOLDIER.  81 

wanted  to  join,  but  could  not  lift  the  lid.  The 
Nut-cracker  went  head  over  heels,  and  the  Pen- 
cil played  games  on  the  table ;  there  was  so 
much  noise  that  the  Canary  woke  up,  and  began 
to  speak  too,  and  even  in  verse.  The  only  two 
who  did  not  stir  from  their  places  were  the  Tin 
Soldier  and  the  little  Dancer ;  she  stood  straight 
up  on  the  point  of  one  of  her  toes,  and  stretched 
out  both  her  arms,  and  he  was  just  as  firm  on 
his  one  leg ;  and  he  never  turned  his  eyes  away 
from  her. 

Now  the  clock  struck  twelve  —  and,  bounce  ! 
the  lid  flew  off  the  snuff-box ;  but  there  was  not 
snuff  in  it,  but  a  little  black  troll ;  you  see,  it 
was  a  Jack-in-the-box. 

"  Tin  Soldier,''  said  the  Troll ;  "  keep  your 
eyes  to  yourself." 

But  the  Tin  Soldier  made  as  if  he  did  not 
hear  him. 

"  Just  you  wait  till  to-morrow  !  "  said  the 
Troll. 

But  when  the  morning  came,  and  the  children 
got  up,  the  Tin  Soldier  was  placed  in  the  win- 
dow ;  and  whether  it  was  the  Troll  or  the  draught 
that  did  it,  all  at  once  the  window  flew  open, 
and  the  Soldier  fell,  head  over  heels,  out  of  the 
third  story.  That  was  a  terrible  journey !  He 
put  his  leg  straight  up,  and  came  down  so  that 
he  stood  on  his  head,  and  his  bayonet  between 
the  pavings-stones. 


82  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES, 

The  servant-maid  and  the  little  boy  came 
down  at  once  to  look  for  him,  but  though  they 
almost  trod  upon  him  they  could  not  see  him. 
If  the  Soldier  had  cried  out,  "  Here  I  am ! " 
they  would  have  found  him;  but  he  did  not 
think  it  proper  to  call  out  loudly,  because  he 
was  in  his  soldier  clothes. 

Now  it  began  to  rain ;  each  drop  fell  faster 
than  the  other,  and  at  last  it  came  down  in  a  full 
stream.  When  the  rain  was  past,  two  street 
boys  came  by. 

'*  Just  look ! "  said  one  of  them,  "  there  lies  a 
tin  soldier.     He  shall  have  a  sail." 

And  so  they  made  a  boat  out  of  a  newspaper, 
and  put  the  Tin  Soldier  in  the  middle  of  it, 
and  he  sailed  down  the  gutter;  now  the  two 
boys  ran  beside  him  and  clapped  their  hands. 
Mercy  on  us !  how  the  waves  rose  in  that  gut- 
ter, and  how  fast  the  stream  ran  !  But  then  it 
had  been  a  heavy  rain.  The  paper  boat  rocked 
up  and  down,  and  sometimes  turned  round  so 
quickly  that  the  Tin  Soldier  trembled ;  but  he 
was  firm,  and  never  moved  a  muscle,  but  looked 
straight  before  him,  and  carried  his  gun  erect. 

All  at  once  the  boat  went  into  a  long  drain, 
and  it  became  as  dark  as  if  he  had  been  in  his 
box. 

"  I  wonder  where  I  am  going  now,"  bethought 
^  Yes,  yes,  that 's  the  Troll's  fault.     Ah !  if  the 


THE   CONSTANT  TIN  SOLDIER,  83 

fittle  lady  only  sat  here  with  me  in  the  boat,  it 
might  be  twice  as  dark  for  all  I  should  care." 

Suddenly  there  came  a  great  water-rat,  which 
lived  under  the  drain. 

"  Have  you  a  passport  ? "  said  the  Rato 
"  Give  me  your  passport." 

But  the  Tin  Soldier  kept  still,  and  onty  held 
faster  his  gun. 

The  boat  went  on,  but  the  Rat  came  after  it. 
Whew*  how  he  gnashed  his  teeth,  and  called 
out  to  the  bits  of  straw  and  wood,  — 

"  Stop  him  !  stop  him  !  he  has  n't  paid  toll  -^ 
he  has  n't  shown  his  passport !  " 

But  the  stream  became  stronger  and  stronger. 
The  Tin  Soldier  could  see  the  bright  dayhght 
where  the  arch  of  the  drain  ended ;  but  he 
also  heard  a  roaring  noise,  which  might  well 
frighten  a  bolder  man.  Only  think  —  just  where 
the  tunnel  ended,  the  drain  ran  into  a  great 
canal;  and  for  him  that  would  have  been  as 
full  of  peril  as  for  us  to  be  carried  down  a  great 
waterfall. 

Now  he  was  already  so  near  it  that  he  could 
not  stop.  The  boat  was  carried  out,  the  poor 
Tin  Soldier  held  himself  as  stifily  as  he  could, 
and  no  one  could  say  that  he  moved  an  eyeHd. 
The  boat  whirled  round  three  or  four  times,  and 
was  full  of  water  to  the  very  edge  —  it  must 
sink.     The  Tin  Soldier  stood  up  to  his  neck  in 


84  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

water,  deeper  and  deeper  sank  the  boat,  and  the 
paper  was  fast  dropping  to  pieces  ;  and  now  the 
water  closed  over  the  Soldier's  head.  Then  he 
thought  of  the  pretty  httle  Dancer,  and  how  he 
should  never  see  her  again;  audit  sounded  in 
the  Soldier's  ears  :  — 

"  Farewell,  farewell,  thou  warrior  brave, 
Die  shalt  thou  this  day." 

And  now  the  paper  broke  in  two,  and  the 
Tin  Soldier  fell  through;  but  at  that  moment 
he  was  swallowed  up  by  a  great  fish. 

Oh,  how  dark  it  was  in  there  !  It  was  darker 
than  in  the  drain  tunnel ;  and  then  it  was  very 
narrow,  too.  But  the  Tin  Soldier  was  firm,  and 
lay  at  full  length,  with  his  gun. 

The  fish  swam  to  and  fro ;  he  made  the 
strangest  stir ;  at  last  he  became  quite  still  and 
there  was  a  streak  of  light  through  him.  The 
light  shone  quite  clear,  and  a  voice  said  aloud, 
"  The  Tin  Soldier !  "  The  fish  had  been  caught, 
carried  to  market,  bought,  and  taken  into  the 
kitchen,  where  the  cook  cut  him  open  with  a 
large  knife.  She  took  the  Soldier  round  the 
body  with  two  fingers,  and  carried  him  into  the 
room,  where  all  waited  to  see  the  famous  man 
who  had  traveled  about  in  the  inside  of  a  fish ; 
but  the  Tin  Soldier  was  not  at  all  proud.  They 
placed  him  on  the  table,  and  there  —  no  I    What 


THE  CONSTANT   TIN  SOLDIER.    '        85 

curious  things  may  happen  in  the  world !  The 
Tin  Soldier  was  in  the  very  room  in  wliieh  he 
had  been  before  !  he  saw  the  same  children,  and 
the  same  toys  stood  upon  the  table ;  and  there 
was  the  pretty  castle  with  the  graceful  Dancer. 
She  was  still  standing  on  one  leg,  and  held  the 
other  extended  in  the  air.  She  was  faithful  too. 
That  moved  the  Tin  Soldier :  he  was  very  near 
weeping  tin  tears,  but  that  would  not  have  been 
proper.  He  looked  at  her,  and  she  looked  at 
him,  but  they  said  nothing  to  each  other. 

Then  one  of  the  little  boys  took  the  Tin  Sol- 
dier and  flung  him  into  the  stove.  He  gave  no 
reason  for  doing  this.  It  must  have  been  the 
fault  of  the  Jack-in-the-box. 

The  Tin  Soldier  stood  there  quite  in  the 
blaze,  and  felt  a  heat  that  was  terrible  ;  but 
whether  this  heat  came  from  the  real  fire  or 
from  love  he  did  not  know.  The  colors  had 
quite  run  off  from  him  ;  but  whether  that  had 
happened  on  the  journey,  or  had  been  caused  by 
grief,  no  one  could  say.  He  looked  at  the  lit- 
tle lady,  she  looked  at  him,  and  he  felt  that  he 
was  melting ;  but  he  stood  firm,  with  his  gun  in 
his  arms.  Then  suddenly  the  door  flew  open, 
and  the  draught  of  air  caught  the  Dancer,  and 
she  flew  like  a  sylph  just  into  the  stove  to  the 
Tin  Soldier,  and  flashed  up  in  a  flame,  and  then 
was  gone  I     Then  the  Tin  Soldier  melted  down 


86  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

into  a  lump,  and  when  the  servant-maid  took  the 
ashes  out  the  next  day,  she  found  him  in  the 
shape  of  a  Kttle  tin  heart.  But  of  the  Dancer 
was  left  nothing  but  the  tinsel  rose,  and  that  was 
burned  as  black  as  a  coaL 


THE  DAENING-NEEDLE. 

There  was  once  a  darning-needle,  who 
thought  herself  so  fine,  she  fancied  she  was  a 
sewing  needle. 

"  Take  care,  and  mind  you  hold  me  tight !  " 
she  said  to  the  Fingers  that  took  her  out. 
"Don't  let  me  fall!  If  I  faU  on  the  floor  I 
shall  never  be  found  again  in  the  world,  I  am  so 
fine!" 

"  That 's  the  way  to  talk !  "  said  the  Fingers  ; 
and  they  held  her  fast. 

"  See,  I  'm  coming  with  a  train  !  "  said  the 
Darning-needle,  and  she  drew  a  long  thread  af- 
ter her,  but  there  was  no  knot  in  the  thread. 

The  Fingers  pointed  the  needle  straight  at 
the  cook's  slipper,  in  which  the  upper  leather 
had  burst,  and  was  to  be  sewn  together. 

"  That 's  vulgar  work,"  said  the  Darning-nee- 
dle. "  I  shall  never  get  through.  I  'm  break- 
ing !  I  'm  breaking  !  "  And  she  really  broke. 
"  Did  I  not  say  so  ?  "  said  the  Darning-needle ; 
•^  I  'm  too  fine  !  " . 

"  Now  it 's  good  for  nothing,"  thought  the 
Fingers  ;  but  they  were  obliged  to  hold  her  fast, 


88  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

all  the  same ;  for  the  cook  dropped  some  seal- 
ing-wax upon  the  needle,  and  stuck  it  in  her 
necktie. 

"  So,  now  I  'm  a  breastpin !  "  said  the  Darn- 
ing-needle. "I  knew  very  well  that  I  should 
come  to  honor :  when  one  is  something,  one 
always  comes  to  something  !  " 

And  she  laughed  inside  herself  —  for  one  can 
never  see  by  the  outside  when  a  darning-needle 
laughs.  There  she  sat,  as  proud  as  if  she  were 
in  a  state  coach,  and  looked  all  about  her. 

"  May  I  have  the  honor  of  asking  if  you  are 
of  gold  ?  "  she  asked  of  the  pin,  her  neighbor. 
"  You  have  a  very  pretty  look,  and  your  own 
head,  but  it  is  little.  You  must  see  that  you 
grow,  for  it 's  not  every  one  that  has  wax  dropped 
upon  him." 

And  the  Darning-needle  drew  herself  up  so 
proudly  that  she  fell  out  of  the  necktie  right 
into  the  sink,  which  the  cook  was  rinsing  out. 

"  Now  we  're  going  on  a  journey,"  said  the 
Darning-needle.     "  If  I  only  don't  get   lost !  " 

But  she  really  was  lost. 

"  I  'm  too  fine  for  this  world,"  she  observed, 
as  she  lay  in  the  gutter.  "  But  I  know  who  I 
am,  and  there  's  always  some  comfort  in  that !  " 

So  the  Darning-needle  held  herself  high,  and 
did  not  lose  her  good  humor.  And  all  sorts 
of  things  swam  over  her,  chips  and  straws  and 
pieces  of  old  newspapers. 


THE  DARNING-NEEDLE.  89 

"  See,  how  they  sail !  "  said  the  Darning-nee- 
dle. "  They  don't  know  what  is  under  them  ! 
I  'm  here,  I  remain  firmly  here.  See,  there  goes 
a  chip,  thinking  of  nothing  in  the  world  but  of 
himself  —  of  a  chip  !  There  's  a  straw  going  by 
now.  How  he  turns !  how  he  twirls  about ! 
Don't  think  only  of  yourself,  you  might  easily 
run  up  against  a  paving-stone.  There  swims  a 
bit  of  newspaper.  What 's  written  upon  it  has 
long  been  forgotten,  and  yet  it  gives  itself  airs. 
I  sit  quietly  and  patiently  here.  I  know  who  I 
am,  and  I  shall  remain  what  I  am." 

One  day  there  was  something  that  shone 
brightly  close  by  her ;  so  the  Darning  -  needle 
thought  that  it  was  a  diamond ;  but  it  was  a  bit 
of  broken  bottle;  and  because  it  shone,  the 
Darning-needle  spoke  to  it,  saying  that  she  was 
a  breastpin. 

"  You  are  surely  a  diamond  ?  " 
"  Why,  yes,  something  of  that  kind." 
And  so  each  thought  the  other  to  be  a  very 
costly  thing  ;  and  they  began  saying  how  proud 
the  world  was. 

"  I  have  been  in  a  lady's  box,"  said  the  Darn- 
ing-needle, "and  this  lady  was  a  cook.  She 
had  five  fingers  on  each  hand,  and  I  never  saw 
anything  so  vain  as  those  five  fingers.  And 
yet  they  were  only  there  that  they  might  take 
me  out  of  the  box  and  put  me  back  into  it." 


90  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

•*  Did  they  have  lustre  ? "  asked  the  Bit  of 
Bottle. 

"  Lustre  !  "  said  the  Darning-needle,  "  no ; 
nothing  but  pride.  There  were  five  brothers, 
all  of  the  finger  family.  They  held  their  heads 
high  with  each  other,  though  they  were  not  of 
the  same  length :  the  outside  one,  ThumbUng, 
was  short  and  fat ;  he  walked  out  in  front  of  the 
ranks,  and  only  had  one  joint  in  his  back,  and 
could  make  only  a  single  bow  ;  but  he  said  that 
if  he  were  hacked  off  a  man,  the  whole  man  was 
spoiled  for  war.  Lick -pot  was  in  sweet  and 
sour,  pointed  to  sun  and  moon,  and  it  was  he 
who  bore  hard  when  they  wrote.  Longman, 
the  third,  looked  over  the  heads  of  all  the 
others.  Ring  finger  had  a  gold  ring  round  his 
waist ;  and  little  Peter  Playman  did  nothing  at 
all,  and  was  proud  of  it.  It  was  brag,  brag  all 
the  time ;  and  so  I  fell  into  the  sink." 

"  And  now  we  sit  here  and  glitter  !  "  said  the 
Bit  of  Bottle. 

At  that  moment  more  water  came  into  the 
gutter,  so  that  it  flowed  over  the  edge  and  car- 
ried off  the  Bit  of  Bottle. 

"^  So  he  goes  up  higher,"  said  the  Darning- 
needle.  "  I  remain  here,  I  am  too  fine.  But 
that 's  my  pride,  and  my  pride  is  worthy."  And 
so  she  sat  there  with  her  head  high,  and  had 
many  great  thoughts.     "  I  could  almost  beUeve 


THE  DARNING-NEEDLE.  91 

I  had  been  born  of  a  sunbeam,  I  'm  so  fine  ! 
Does  n't  it  seem  too  as  if  the  sun  were  always 
seeking  for  me  under  the  water  ?  Ah !  I  'm 
so  fine  that  my  mother  cannot  find  me.  If  I 
had  my  old  eye,  which  I  broke  off,  I  think  I 
should  cry  ;  but,  no,  I  should  not  do  that :  it 's 
not  genteel  to  cry." 

One  day  a  couple  of  street  boys  lay  grubbing 
in  the  gutter,  where  they  found  old  nails,  cents, 
and  such  like  things.  It  was  dirty  work,  but 
they  liked  it. 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  one,  who  had  pricked  himself 
with  the  Darning-needle,  "  there 's  a  fellow  for 
you !  " 

"  I  'm  not  a  fellow  ;  I  'm  a  young  lady  !  " 
said  the  Darning-needle. 

But  nobody  heard  her.  The  sealing-wax  had 
come  off,  and  she  had  turned  black  ;  but  black 
makes  one  look  slender,  and  so  she  thought  her- 
self finer  even  than  before. 

"  Here  comes  an  egg-shell  sailing  along ! " 
said  the  boys;  and  they  stuck  the  Darning- 
needle  fast  in  the  egg-shell. 

"  White  walls,  and  black  myself !  that  looks 
well,"  remarked  the  Darning-needle.  "  Now 
one  can  see  me.  I  only  hope  I  shall  not  be  sea- 
sick, for  then  I  may  split  in  two ! "  But  she 
was  not  seasick  at  all,  and  did  not  crack.  "  It  is 
good,  if  one  is  seasick,  to  have  a  steel  stomach, 


92  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

and  not  to  forget  that  one  is  a  little  more  than 
mankind !  Now  my  seasickness  is  over.  The 
finer  one  is,  the  more  one  can  bear." 

"  Crack ! "  went  the  egg-shell,  for  a  wagop 
went  over  it. 

"  Dear  me  !  how  it  crushes  one ! "  said  the 
Darning-needle.  "  I  'm  getting  seasick  now,  — 
I  'm  quite  sick,  I  am  going  to  break  !  "  but  she 
did  not  break,  though  the  wagon  went  over  her ! 
she  lay  there  at  full  length,  and  there  she  may 
lie. 


THE  LOVERS. 

The  Top  and  the  Ball  lay  in  a  drawer  among 
some  other  toys;  and  so  the  Top  said  to  the 
Ball,— 

"  Shall  we  not  be  lovers,  since  we  live  to- 
gether in  the  same  drawer  ?  " 

But  the  Ball,  which  had  a  coat  of  morocco 
leather,  and  thought  herself  as  good  as  any  fine 
lady,  had  nothing  to  say  to  such  a  thing.  The 
next  day  came  the  little  boy  who  owned  the 
toys :  he  painted  the  Top  red  and  yellow,  and 
drove  a  brass  nail  into  it ;  and  the  Top  looked 
splendidly  when  he  turned  round. 

"  Look  at  me  !  "  he  cried  to  the  Ball.  "  What 
do  you  say  now  ?  Shall  we  not  be  lovers  ?  We 
go  so  nicely  together  !  You  jump  and  I  dance ! 
No  one  could  be  happier  than  we  two  should 
be." 

"  Indeed !  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  said  the  Ball. 
*^  Perhaps  you  do  not  know  that  my  papa  and 
my  mamma  were  morocco  slippers,  and  that  I 
have  a  cork  inside  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  am  made  of  mahogany,"  said 
the  Top ;  "  and  the  mayor  himself  turned  me. 


94  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

He  has  a  turning-lathe  of  his  own,  and  it  amuses 
him  greatly." 

"  Can  I  depend  on  that  ?  "  asked  the  Ball. 

"  May  I  never  be  whipped  again  if  it  is  not 
true !  "  replied  the  Top. 

'*You  talk  well  for  yourself,"  said  the  Ball, 
**  but  I  cannot  do  what  you  ask.  I  am  as  good 
as  half  engaged  to  a  swallow ;  every  time  I  leap 
up  into  the  air  he  sticks  his  head  out  of  the  nest 
and  says,  ^  Will  you  ?  will  you  ? '  And  now  I 
have  silently  said '  Yes,'  and  that  is  as  good  as 
being  half  engaged ;  but  I  promise  I  will  never 
forget  you." 

"  Much  good  that  will  do  1 "  said  the  Top. 

And  they  spoke  no  more  to  each  other. 

Next  day  the  Ball  was  taken  out.  The  Top 
saw  how  she  flew  high  into  the  air,  like  a  bird  ; 
at  last  one  could  no  longer  see  her.  Each  time 
she  came  back  again,  but  always  gave  a  high 
leap  when  she  touched  the  earth  ;  and  that  came 
about  either  from  her  longing,  or  because  she 
had  a  cork  in  her  body.  The  ninth  time  the 
Ball  stayed  away  and  did  not  come  back  again ; 
and  the  boy  looked  and  looked,  but  she  was 
gone. 

"  I  know  very  well  where  she  is ! "  sighed  the 
Top.  "  She  is  in  the  Swallow's  nest,  and  has 
married  the  Swallow  !  " 

The  more  the  Top  thought  of  this,  the  more 


THE  LOVERS.  95 

he  longed  for  the  Ball.  Just  because  he  could 
not  get  her,  he  fell  more  in  love  with  her.  That 
she  had  taken  some  one  else,  that  was  another 
thing.  So  the  Top  danced  round  and  hummed, 
but  always  thought  of  the  Ball,  which  grew 
more  and  more  lovely  in  his  fancy.  Thus  many 
years  went  by,  —  and  now  it  was  an  old  love. 

And  the  Top  was  no  longer  young !  But  one 
day  he  was  gilt  all  over ;  never  had  he  looked 
so  handsome ;  he  was  now  a  golden  Top,  and 
sprang  till  he  hummed  again.  Yes,  that  was 
something  !  But  all  at  once  he  sprang  too  high, 
and  —  he  was  gone  ! 

They  looked  and  looked,  even  in  the  cellar, 
but  he  was  not  to  be  found. 

Where  was  he  ? 

He  had  jumped  into  the  dust-box,  where  all 
kinds  of  things  were  lying  :  cabbage  stalks, 
sweepings,  and  gravel  that  had  fallen  down  from 
the  roof. 

"Here  's  a  nice  place  to  lie  in  !  The  gilding 
will  soon  leave  me  here.  And  what  a  rabblf 
I  've  come  amongst !  " 

And  then  he  looked  askance  at  a  long  cab- 
bage stalk  that  was  much  too  near  him,  and  at  a 
curious  round  thing  like  an  old  apple ;  but  it 
was  not  an  apple  —  it  was  an  old  Ball,  which 
had  lain  for  years  in  the  roof-gutter  and  was 
soaked  through  with  water. 


96  HANS  ANDERSEISrS  STORIES. 

"  Thank  goodness,  here  comes  one  of  us,  with 
whom  one  can  talk  !  "  said  the  little  Ball,  and 
looked  at  the  gilt  Top.  "  I  am  really  morocco, 
sewn  by  a  girl's  hands,  and  have  a  cork  inside 
me ;  but  no  one  would  think  it,  to  look  at  me.  I 
was  very  near  marrying  a  swallow,  but  I  fell  into 
the  gutter  on  the  roof,  and  have  laid  there  full 
five  years,  and  am  quite  wet  through.  That 's 
a  long  time,  you  may  believe  me,  for  a  young 
girl." 

But  the  Top  said  nothing.  He  thought  of 
his  old  love  ;  and  the  more  he  heard,  the  clearer 
it  became  to  him  that  this  was  she.  Then  came 
the  servant-girl,  and  wanted  to  empty  the  dust- 
box.  "  Aha,  there  's  a  gilt  top ! "  she  cried. 
And  so  the  Top  was  brought  again  to  notice  and 
honor,  but  nothing  was  heard  of  the  Ball.  And 
the  Top  spoke  no  more  of  his  old  love ;  for  that 
dies  away  when  the  beloved  has  lain  for  five 
years  in  a  roof-gutter  and  got  wet  through ;  yes, 
one  does  not  know  her  again  when  one  meets 
her  in  the  dust-box. 


THE  SNOW-QUEEN. 

FIRST  STORY. 
Which  tells  of  a  Mirror  and  its  Splinters, 

Look  here  !  now  we  begin.  When  we  are  at 
the  end  of  the  story,  we  shall  know  more  than 
we  know  now. 

There  was  a  wicked  sprite,  —  one  of  the  very 
worst  of  all  sprites.  One  day  he  was  in  a  very 
good  humor ;  he  had  made  a  mirror  which  had 
the  power  that  every  good  and  lovely  thing 
which  looked  in  it  wasted  away  to  just  nothing 
at  all ;  but  that  which  was  of  no  use  and  was 
ugly  came  right  to  the  front  and  grew  still 
worse.  The  most  beautiful  landscapes  looked 
like  boiled  spinach,  and  the  best  persons  were 
turned  into  frights,  or  appeared  to  stand  on 
their  heads ;  their  faces  were  so  twisted  that 
they  were  not  to  be  made  out ;  and  if  any  one 
had  a  mole,  you  might  be  sure  that  it  would 
spread  over  both  nose  and  mouth. 

"  That 's  glorious  fun  ! "  said  the  Sprite.  If 
a  good  thought  passed  through  a  man's  mind» 


98  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES, 

then  a  grin  was  seen  in  the  mirror,  and  the 
Sprite  laughed  to  think  how  cleverly  he  had 
made  the  mirror.  All  the  little  sprites  who  went 
to  his  school  —  for  he  kept  a  sprite  school  — 
told  one  another  that  a  miracle  had  happened; 
and  that  now  only,  as  they  thought,  one  could 
see  how  the  world  really  looked.  They  ran 
about  with  the  mirror ;  and  at  last  there  was  not 
a  land  or  a  person  that  had  not  been  seen  in  it. 

So  then  they  thought  they  would  fly  up  to  the 
sky,  and  have  a  joke  there.  The  higher  they 
flew  with  the  mirror,  the  more  it  grinned ;  they 
could  hardly  hold  it  fast.  Higher  and  higher 
still  they  flew,  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  stars; 
then  suddenly  the  mirror  shook  so  terribly  with 
grinning,  that  it  flew  out  of  their  hands  and  fell 
to  the  earth,  where  it  was  dashed  into  a  hundred 
million,  yes  a  billion  and  more  pieces. 

And  now  it  worked  much  more  evil  than 
before ;  for  some  of  these  pieces  were  hardly  so 
large  as  a  grain  of  sand,  and  they  flew  about  in 
the  wide  world ;  and  when  they  got  into  people's 
eyes,  there  they  stayed ;  and  then  people  saw 
everything  crooked,  or  only  had  an  eye  for  that 
which  was  evil.  For  the  very  smallest  bit  had  the 
same  power  which  the  whole  mirror  had.  Some 
persons  even  got  splinters  in  their  hearts,  and 
then  it  made  one  shudder,  for  their  hearts  be« 
«ame  like  lumps  of  ice. 


THE  SNOW-QUEEN.  99 

Some  of  the  broken  pieces  were  so  large  that 
they  were  used  for  panes  of  glass,  but  through 
these  panes  it  was  not  well  to  look  at  one's 
friends.  Other  pieces  were  put  in  spectacles; 
and  it  tui-ned  out  very  ill  when  people  put  on 
their  glasses  to  see  well  and  rightly.  Then  the 
wicked  Sprite  laughed  till  he  almost  choked,  for 
all  this  tickled  his  fancy.  The  fine  splinters 
still  flew  about  in  the  air:  and  now  we  shall 
hear  what  happened  next. 


SECOND  STORY. 

A  Little  Boy  and  a  Little  Girl, 

In  a  large  town,  where  there  are  so  many 
houses,  and  so  many  people,  that  there  is  not 
room  enough  for  everybody  to  have  a  little  gar- 
den ;  and  where,  on  this  account,  most  persons 
must  be  content  with  flowers  in  pots,  there  lived 
two  poor  children,  who  had  a  garden  a  little 
larger  than  a  flower-pot.  They  were  not  brother 
and  sister ;  but  they  cared  for  each  other  as 
much  as  if  they  were.  Their  parents  lived  side 
by  side.  They  lived  in  two  garrets  ;  and  where 
the  roof  of  the  one  house  joined  that  of  the 
other,  and  the  gutter  ran  along  the  eaves,  there 
was  to  each  house  a  small  window :  one  needed 
only  to  step  over  the  gutter  to  get  from  one 
window  to  the  other. 


100  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

The  children's  parents  had  large  wooden  boxes 
there,  and  in  them  grew  beans  and  peas,  which 
they  raised,  and  little  rosebushes  besides :  there 
was  a  rose  in  each  box,  and  these  grew  splen- 
didly. They  now  thought  of  placing  the  boxes 
across  the  gutter,  so  that  they  nearly  reached 
from  one  window  to  the  other,  and  looked  just 
like  two  walls  of  flowers.  The  tendrils  of  the 
peas  hung  down  over  the  boxes,  and  the  rose- 
bushes sent  out  long  branches,  twined  around 
the  windows,  and  then  bent  towards  each  other : 
it  was  almost  like  a  triumphal  arch  of  vines  and 
flowers.  The  boxes  were  very  high,  and  the 
children  knew  that  they  must  not  creep  over 
them ;  but  they  often  got  leave  to  get  out  of  the 
windows  to  each  other,  and  to  sit  on  their  little 
stools  under  the  rdses,  where  they  could  play 
nicely. 

In  winter  there  was  an  end  of  this  pleasure. 
The  windows  were  often  frozen  over ;  but  then 
each  heated  a  copper  on  the  stove,  and  laid  the 
hot  piece  on  the  window-pane,  and  then  they 
had  capital  peep-holes,  quite  nicely  rounded; 
and  out  of  each  peeped  a  gentle,  friendly  eye 
—  it  was  the  Httle  boy  and  the  little  girl  who 
were  looking  out.  His  name  was  Kay,  hers  was 
Gerda.  In  summer,  with  one  jump,  they  could 
get  to  each  other ;  but  in  winter  they  must  first 
go  down  the  long  stairs,  and  then  up  the  long 
stairs  again :  and  out-of-doors  it  was  snowing. 


THE  SN0W-Q17E£N,  lOJ 

**  It  is  the  white  bees  that  are  swarming,"  said 
Kay's  old  gi'andmother. 

"  Have  they,  also,  a  queen  ?  "  asked  the  little 
boy;  for  he  knew  that  the  honey-bees  always 
have  one. 

"That  have  they,"  said  the  grandmother j 
**she  flies  where  they  swarm  thickest.  She  is 
the  largest  of  them  all ;  and  she  never  remains 
quietly  on  the  earth,  but  flies  up  again  into  the 
black  sky.  Many  a  winter  night  she  flies 
through  the  streets  of  the  town,  and  peeps  in  at 
the  windows ;  and  they  then  freeze  in  so  won- 
drous a  manner  that  they  look  as  if  they  bore 
flowers." 

"Yes,  I  have  seen  it,"  said  both  the  chil- 
dren ;  and  so  they  knew  it  was  true. 

"  Can  the  Snow-Queen  come  in  ?  "  asked  the 
little  girl. 

"  Only  let  her  come  in  !  "  said  the  little  boy ; 
^  then  I  'd  put  her  on  the  warm  stove,  and  she  'd 
melt." 

And  then  his  grandmother  patted  his  head, 
and  told  him  other  stories. 

In  the  evening,  when  little  Kay  was  at  home, 
and  half  undressed,  he  climbed  up  on  the  stoo! 
by  the  window,  and  peeped  out  of  the  little  hole. 
A  few  snowflakes  were  falling,  and  one,  the 
largest  of  all,  remained  lying  on  the  edge  of  a 
flower-pot.     The  flake  of  snow  grew  larger  and 


ids  HANS 'A'NVERSEN'S  STORIES. 

larger;  and  at  last  it  was  like  a  young  lady, 
dressed  in  the  finest  white  gauze,  made  of  a  mil- 
lion little  flakes,  like  stars.  She  was  most  beau- 
tiful and  delicate,  but  she  was  of  ice,  of  dazzling^ 
sparkling  ice ;  yet  she  lived ;  her  eyes  stared^ 
like  two  bright  stars ,  but  there  was  no  rest  or 
peace  in  them.  She  nodded  toward  the  window, 
and  beckoned  with  her  hand.  The  little  boy 
was  frightened,  and  jumped  down  from  the 
chaii'  —  when  something  like  a  large  bird  flew 
past  the  window. 

The  next  day  there  was  a  sharp  frost ;  then 
there  was  a  thaw,  and  then  the  spring  came ;  the 
sun  shone,  the  green  leaves  peeped  out,  the  swal- 
lows built  their  nests,  the  windows  were  opened, 
and  the  little  children  again  sat  in  their  pretty 
garden,  high  up  on  the  roof  above  all  the  stories. 

That  summer  the  roses  bloomed  finely.  The 
little  girl  had  learned  a  hymn,  and  in  it  there 
was  a  word  about  roses ;  and  with  the  roses  in 
the  hymn  she  thought  of  her  own ;  and  she 
sang  the  verse  to  the  little  boy,  and  he  sang  it 
with  her :  — 

"The  rose  in  the  valley  is  blooming  so  sweet, 
The  Child  Jesus  is  there  the  children  to  greet." 

And  the  children  held  each  other  by  the  hand, 
kissed  the  roses,  looked  up  at  the  clear  sunshine, 
and   spoke  as  if  they  really  saw  Jesus  there. 


THE  SNOW-QUEEN,  103 

What  lovely  summer  days  those  were!  How 
delightful  to  be  out  in  the  air,  near  the  fresh 
rosebushes,  that  seemed  as  if  they  would  always 
keep  on  bearing  flowers. 

Kay  and  Gerda  sat  and  looked  at  a  picture 
book  full  of  beasts  and  of  birds ;  and  it  wag 
then  —  the  clock  in  the  church-tower  was  just 
striking  five  —  that  Kay  said,  "  Oh  !  I  feel  such 
a  sharp  pain  in  my  heart ;  and  now  something 
has  got  into  my  eye  !  " 

The  little  girl  put  her  arms  round  his  neck. 
He  winked  his  eyes ;  no,  there  was  nothing  to 
be  seen. 

"  I  think  it  is  out  now,"  said  he ;  but  it  was 
not  out.  It  was  just  one  of  those  pieces  of  glass 
from  the  mirror,  the  Sprite's  mirror  we  know 
about,  the  wicked  glass,  that  makes  everything 
great  and  good,  which  looks  into  it,  become 
small  and  ugly :  but  the  evil  and  base  comes 
forward,  and  every  fault  is  sure  to  be  seen.  Poor 
Kay,  he  had  also  got  a  piece  right  in  his  heart. 
It  would  soon  become  like  a  lump  of  ice.  It  did 
not  hurt  any  longer,  but  there  it  was. 

"  What  are  you  crying  for  ? "  asked  he- 
**  You  look  so  ugly  !  There 's  nothing  the  mat- 
ter with  me.  Ah,"  said  he  at  once,  "  that  rose 
is  eaten  by  a  worm  I  and,  look,  this  one  is  quite 
crooked !  after  all,  these  roses  are  very  ugly  I 
they  are  just  like  the  box  they  are  planted  in  1 " 


104  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

And  then  he  gave  the  box  a  good  kick  with  his 
foot,  and  pulled  both  the  roses  up. 

*'  Kay  !  what  are  you  doing  ?  "  cried  the  little 
girl ;  and  when  he  saw  her  fright,  he  pulled  up 
another  rose,  got  in  at  the  window,  and  hastened* 
oS  from  dear  little  Gerda. 

When  she  came  with  her  picture-book,  he  said 
it  was  only  for  babies !  and  if  his  grandmother 
told  him  stories,  he  always  came  out  with  a 
*^  But !  "  Yes,  he  even  came  to  this,  that  he  got 
behind  her  back,  put  on  her  glasses,  and  talked 
like  her.  He  did  it  so  closely  that  everybody 
laughed  at  him. 

He  was  soon  able  to  talk  and  walk  like  every 
one  in  the  street.  If  there  was  anything  odd 
or  secret  about  them  —  that  Kay  knew  how  to 
copy ;  and  so  people  said,  "  What  a  great  head 
that  boy  has !  "  But  it  was  the  glass  he  had  got 
in  his  eye;  the  glass  that  was  sticking  in  his 
heart,  which  made  him  tease  even  little  Gerda, 
who  held  by  him  with  her  whole  soul. 

His  games  now  were  quite  other  than  what 
they  had  been,  they  were  so  very  knowing.  One 
winter  day,  when  the  flakes  of  snow  were  flying 
about,  he  came  with  a  big  burning-glass,  and 
spread  the  skirts  of  his  blue  coat,  and  let  the 
flakes  fall  on  it. 

"  Look  through  this  glass,  Gerda,"  said  he. 
And  every  flake  seemed  larger,  and  looked  like 


THE  SNOW-QUEEN,  105 

a  fine  flower,  or  a  star  with  points :  it  was  splen- 
did to  look  at ! 

"  Look,  how  clever  !  "  said  Kay.  "  That 's 
much  more  interesting  than  real  flowers !  They 
•are  as  exact  as  possible ;  there  is  not  a  fault  in 
them,  if  they  did  not  melt ! " 

It  was  not  long  after  this  that  Kay  came  one 
day  with  large  gloves  on,  and  his  little  sled  at 
his  back,  and  bawled  right  into  Gerda's  ears,  "  I 
have  leave  to  go  out  into  the  square,  where  the 
others  are  playing  ; "  and  ofE  he  went. 

There,  in  the  square,  some  of  the  boldest  of 
the  boys  used  to  tie  their  sleds  to  the  carts  as 
they  passed  by,  and  so  were  pulled  along,  and 
got  a  good  ride.  It  was  fine !  Just  as  they  were 
in  the  thick  of  the  fun,  a  large  sledge  passed 
by ;  it  was  painted  quite  white,  and  there  was 
some  one  in  it  wrapped  up  in  a  rough  white 
mantle  of  fur,  with  a  rough  white  fur  cap. 

The  sledge  drove  round  the  square  twice,  and 
Kay  tied  on  his  little  sled  as  quickly  as  he  could, 
and  off  he  drove  with  it.  On  they  went  quicker 
and  quicker  into  the  next  street ;  and  the  per- 
son who  drove  turned,  and  nodded  to  Kay  in  a 
friendly  manner,  just  as  if  they  knew  each 
other.  Every  time  Kay  was  going  to  untie  his 
sled  the  person  nodded  again,  and  then  Kay 
sat  quiet ;  they  drove  straight  out  of  the  gate 
of  the  town. 


106  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

Then  the  snow  began  to  fall  so  thickly  that 
the  little  boy  could  not  see  his  hand  before  hia 
face,  but  still  on  he  went ;  when  suddenly  he  let 
go  the  string  in  order  to  get  loose  from  the 
sledge,  but  it  was  of  no  use ;  his  Httle  sled  held 
fast  and  sped  on  like  the  wind.  Then  he  cried 
as  loud  as  he  could,  but  no  one  heard  him ;  the 
snow  drifted  and  the  sledge  flew  on ;  now  and 
then  it  gave  a  jerk  as  if  they  were  driving  over 
hedges  and  ditches.  He  was  quite  frightened, 
and  he  tried  to  repeat  the  Lord's  Prayer ;  but 
he  could  only  remember  the  multiplication  table. 

The  snowflakes  grew  larger  and  larger,  till  at 
last  they  looked  just  Kke  great  white  fowls.  All 
at  once  they  flew  on  one  side ;  the  large  sledge 
stopped,  and  the  person  who  drove  rose  up ;  the 
cloak  and  cap  were  of  snow.  It  was  a  lady,  tall 
and  slender,  and  shining  white.  It  was  the 
Snow-Queen. 

"  We  have  traveled  fast,"  said  she ;  "  but  it 
wiU  freeze.  Creep  under  my  bearskin."  And 
she  put  him  in  the  sledge  beside  her,  wrapped 
the  fur  round  him,  and  he  felt  as  though  he 
were  sinking  in  a  snowdrift. 

"  Are  you  freezing  yet  ?  "  asked  she ;  and  then 
she  kissed  his  forehead.  Ugh!  it  was  colder 
than  ice  ;  it  went  to  his  very  heart,  which  was 
already  half  a  lump  of  ice  ;  it  seemed  to  him  as  if 
be  were  about  to  die,  - —  but  only  for  a  moment, 


THE  SNOW^QUEEN.  KfJ 

then  he  liked  it,  and  he  did  not  any  more  notice 
the  cold  that  was  around  liim. 

"  My  sled !  Do  not  forget  my  sled !  **  It  was 
the  first  thing  he  thought  of.  It  was  there,  tied 
to  one  of  the  white  chickens,  who  flew  along 
with  it  on  his  back  behind  the  large  sledge.  The 
Snow-Queen  kissed  Kay  once  more,  and  then  he 
forgot  little  Gerda,  grandmother,  and  all  he  had 
left  at  home. 

"  Now  you  shall  have  no  more  kisses,"  said 
she,  "  or  else  I  should  kiss  you  to  death !  " 

Kay  looked  at  her.  She  was  very  beautiful ; 
a  face  more  full  of  wit  and  beauty  he  could  not 
fancy  to  himself ;  and  she  no  longer  seemed  of 
ice  as  before,  when  she  sat  outside  the  window, 
and  beckoned  to  him ;  in  his  eyes  she  was  per- 
fect ;  he  did  not  fear  her  at  all,  and  told  her 
that  he  could  do  sums  in  his  head,  and  with  frac- 
tions even ;  that  he  knew  the  number  of  square 
miles  there  were  in  the  different  countries,  and 
how  many  inhabitants  they  contained ;  and  she 
smiled  all  the  time. 

Then  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  what  he  knew 
was  not  enough,  and  he  looked  up  into  the 
great,  great  space  above  him,  and  on  she  flew 
with  him ;  flew  high  up  into  the  dark  sky,  and 
the  storm  moaned  and  whistled  as  though  it 
were  singing  some  old  tune.  On  they  flew  over 
wood  and  lake,  over  sea  and  land ;  beneath  them 


108  HANS  ANDEUSEN'S  STORIES. 

the  cold  blast  whistled,  the  wolves  howled,  the 
snow  crackled  ;  above  them  flew  large  screaming 
crows,  but  overhead  shone  the  moon,  large  and 
bright ;  and  on  it  Kay  gazed  during  the  long, 
long  winter's  night ;  by  day  he  slept  at  the  feet 
of  the  Snow-Queen. 


THIRD    STORY. 

Of  the   Flower- Garden  at   the   Old    Woman^s  who 
understood   Witchcraft, 

But  what  became  of  httle  Gerda  when  Kay 
did  not  return  ?  Where  could  he  be  ?  Nobody 
knew;  nobody  could  give  any  news  of  him. 
The  boys  could  only  tell  that  they  had  seen  him 
tie  his  little  sled  to  another  large  and  splendid 
one,  which  drove  down  the  street  and  out  of  the 
town  gate.  Nobody  knew  where  he  was  ;  many 
sad  tears  were  shed,  and  little  Gerda  wept  long 
and  bitterly  ;  at  last  she  said  he  must  be  dead ; 
that  he  had  been  drowned  in  the  river  which 
flowed  close  to  the  town.  Oh,  those  were  very 
long  and  dark  wmter  days  ! 

Then  spring  came  with  its  warm  sunshine. 

"  Kay  is  dead  and  gone  !  "  said  little  Gerda. 

"  That  I  don't  believe,"  said  the  Sunshine. 

"  Kay  is  dead  and  gone  ! "  said  she  to  the 
Swallows. 


THE  SNOW-QUEEN.  109 

"  That  we  don't  believe,"  said  they ;  and  at 
last  little  Gerda  did  not  think  so  any  longer 
either. 

"  I  '11  put  on  my  new  red  shoes,"  said  she,  one 
morning  ;  "  Kay  has  never  seen  them,  and  then 
I  '11  go  down  to  the  river  and  ask  there." 

It  was  quite  early :  she  kissed  her  old  grand* 
mother,  who  was  still  asleep,  put  on  her  red 
shoes,  and  went  quite  alone  out  of  the  gate  to 
the  river. 

"Is  it  true  that  you  have  taken  my  little 
playfellow  ?  I  will  make  you  a  present  of  my 
red  shoes,  if  you  will  give  him  back  to  me." 

And  the  waves,  it  seemed  to  her,  nodded  in  a 
strange  manner ;  then  she  took  off  her  red  shoes, 
the  dearest  things  she  had,  and  threw  them  both 
into  the  river.  But  they  fell  close  to  the  bank, 
and  the  little  waves  bore  them  straight  to  land 
to  her ;  it  was  as  if  the  stream  would  not  take 
what  was  dearest  to  her  when  it  had  not  got 
little  Kay :  but  Gerda  thought  that  she  had  not 
thrown  the  shoes  out  far  enough,  so  she  climbed 
into  a  boat  which  lay  among  the  rushes,  went  tc ' 
the  farthest  end,  and  threw  out  the  shoes.  But 
the  boat  was  not  tied  fast,  and  with  the  motion 
she  made,  it  drifted  from  the  shore.  She  saw 
this,  and  tried  to  get  back  ;  but  before  she  could 
do  so,  the  boat  was  more  than  a  yard  away,  and 
was  ghding  quickly  onward. 


110  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

Little  Gerda  was  very  much  frightened,  and 
began  to  cry  ;  but  no  one  heard  her  except  the 
Sparrows,  and  they  could  not  carry  her  to  land ; 
but  they  flew  along  the  bank,  and  sang  as  if  to 
comfort  her,  "  Here  we  are  !  here  we  are  !  "  The 
boat  drifted  with  the  stream;  little  Gerda  sat 
quite  still  with  bare  feet ;  her  little  red  shoes 
were  swimming  behind  the  boat,  but  they  could 
not  reach  it,  because  it  went  much  faster  than 
they  did. 

It  was  fair  to  see  on  both  banks  ;  there  were 
lovely  flowers,  old  trees,  and  slopes  with  sheep 
and  cows,  but  not  a  human  being  was  to  be  seen. 

"  Perhaps  the  river  will  carry  me  to  Httle 
Kay,"  thought  Gerda ;  and  then  she  grew  less 
sad.  She  rose,  and  looked  for  many  hours  at 
the  beautiful  green  banks.  So  she  came  to  a 
large  cherry-orchard,  where  was  a  little  house 
with  curious  red  and  blue  windows,  and  a 
thatched  roof  besides,  and  before  the  house  two 
wooden  soldiers,  who  shouldered  arms  when  any 
one  went  past. 

Gerda  called  to  them,  for  she  thought  they 
were  alive :  but  they,  of  course,  did  not  answer. 
She  came  close  to  them,  for  the  stream  drove  the 
boat  quite  near  the  land. 

Gerda  called  still  louder,  and  an  old  dame  then 
came  out  of  the  old  house,  leaning  upon  a  crooked 
stick.  She  had  a  large  sunbonnet  on,  and  it 
was  painted  with  the  most  splendid  flowers. 


THE  SNOW-QUEEN.  Ill 

*'  You  poor  little  child  !  " '  said  the  old  dame, 
^  how  did  you  get  upon  the  large  swift  river,  to 
be  driven  about  so  in  the  wide  world !  "  And 
then  the  old  dame  went  into  the  water,  stuck 
her  crooked  stick  fast  in  the  boat,  drew  it  to  the 
bank,  and  Hfted  Uttle  Gerda  out. 

And  Gerda  was  glad  to  be  on  dry  land  again  5 
but  still  she  was  rather  afraid  of  the  strange  old 
dame. 

"  Come  and  tell  me  who  you  are,  and  how  you 
came  here,"  said  she. 

And  Gerda  told  her  all;  and  the  old  dame 
shook  her  head  and  said,  "  A-hem  1  a-hem !  " 
and  when  Gerda  had  told  her  everything,  and 
asked  her  if  she  had  not  seen  little  Kay,  the 
dame  answered  that  he  had  not  passed  there,  but 
he  no  doubt  would  come ;  and  she  told  her  not 
to  be  cast  down,  but  taste  her  cherries,  and  look 
at  her  flowers,  which  were  finer  than  any  in  a 
picture-book  ;  they  could  each  tell  a  whole  story. 
So  she  took  Gerda  by  the  hand,  they  went  into 
the  Uttle  house,  and  the  old  dame  locked  the 
door. 

The  windows  were  very  high  up ;  the  glass 
was  red,  blue,  and  green,  and  the  sunlight  shone 
through  quite  finely  in  all  sorts  of  colors.  On 
the  table  stood  the  nicest  cherries,  and  Gerda 
ate  as  many  as  she  chose,  for  she  had  leave. 
And  while  she  was  eating,  the  old  dame  combed 


112  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

her  hair  with  a  golden  comb,  and  the  hair  curled 
and  shone  with  a  lovely  golden  color  around  that 
sweet  little  face,  which  was  round  and  Uke  a 
rose. 

"  I  have  often  longed  for  just  such  a  dear  life- 
tie  girl,"  said  the  old  dame.  "  Now  you  shall 
see  how  well  we  agree  together;"  and  while 
she  combed  Uttle  Gerda's  hair,  Gerda  forgot  her 
foster-brother  Kay  more  and  more,  for  the  old 
dame  knew  magic ;  but  she  was  no  evil  being ; 
she  only  used  magic  a  little  for  her  own  plea- 
sure, and  now  she  wanted  very  much  to  keep 
little  Gerda.  She  therefore  went  out  into  the 
garden,  stretched  out  her  crooked  stick  towards 
the  rosebushes,  and  though  they  were  all  in 
flower,  they  sank  into  the  earth,  and  no  one 
could  tell  where  they  had  stood.  The  old  dame 
was  afraid  that  if  Gerda  should  see  the  roses, 
she  would  think  of  her  own,  would  remember 
little  Kay,  and  so  run  away  from  her. 

She  now  led  Gerda  into  the  flower-garden. 
Oh,  what  odor  and  what  loveliness  were  there ! 
Every  flower  that  one  could  think  of,  and  of 
every  season,  stood  there  in  fullest  bloom ;  no 
picture-book  could  be  gayer  or  more  beautiful. 
Gerda  jumped  for  joy,  and  played  till  the  sun 
set  behind  the  tall  cherry-trees:  she  then  had 
a  pretty  bed,  with  a  red  silken  spread  that  wag 
stuffed  with  blue  violets.     She  fell  asleep,  and 


THE  SNOW-QUEEN.  113 

had  as  pleasant  dreams  as  ever  a  queen  on  her 
weddiug-day. 

The  next  morning  she  went  to  play  again  with 
the  flowers  in  the  warm  sunshine,  and  thus 
passed  away  a  day.  Gerda  knew  every  flower  j 
but,  many  as  they  were,  it  still  seemed  to  her 
that  one  was  wanting,  though  she  did  not  know 
which.  She  sat  one  day,  and  looked  at  the  old 
dame's  sunbonnet  with  its  painted  flowers,  and 
the  very  prettiest  of  them  all  was  a  rose.  The 
old  dame  had  forgotten  to  take  it  from  her  hat 
when  she  sent  the  others  down  into  the  earth. 
But  so  it  is  not  to  have  one's  wits  about  one. 

"  What !  "  said  Gerda ;  "  are  there  no  roser 
here?"  and  she  ran  about  amongst  the  flower 
beds,  and  looked,  and  looked,  but  there  was  not 
one  to  be  found.  Then  she  sat  down  and  wept ; 
but  her  hot  tears  fell  just  where  a  rosebush  had 
sunk ;  and  when  her  warm  tears  watered  the 
ground,  the  tree  shot  up  at  once  as  fresh  as  when 
it  sank,  and  Gerda  hugged  it,  kissed  the  roses, 
and  thought  of  her  own  dear  roses  at  home,  and 
with  them  of  little  Kay. 

"  Oh,  how  long  I  have  stayed !  "  said  the  Uttle 
girl.  "  I  came  to  look  for  Kay !  Don't  you 
know  where  he  is  ? "  she  asked  of  the  Roses. 
"  Do  you  think  he  is  dead  and  gone  ?  " 

"  Dead  he  is  not,"  said  the  Roses.  "  We  have 
been  in  the  earth  where  all  the  dead  are,  but 
Kay  was  not  there." 


114  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

"Thank  you!"  said  little  Gerda;  and  she 
went  to  the  other  flowers,  looked  into  their  cups, 
and  asked,  "  Don't  you  know  where  little  Kay 
is?" 

But  every  flower  stood  in  the  sun,  and  dreamed 
its  own  fairy-tale  or  its  own  story ;  and  they  all 
told  Gerda  many,  many  things,  but  not  one 
knew  anything  of  Kay. 

And  what  does  the  Tiger-Lily  say  ? 

"  Do  you  hear  the  drum ?  Bum  !  bum !  thjse 
are  the  only  two  tones.  Always  bum  !  bum ! 
Hark  to  the  song  of  sorrow  of  the  old  woman ! 
to  the  call  of  the  priests!  The  Hindoo  woman 
in  her  long  robe  stands  upon  the  funeral  pile ; 
the  flames  rise  around  her  and  her  dead  hus- 
band, but  the  Hindoo  woman  thinks  on  the 
living  one  in  the  circle;  on  him  whose  eyes 
burn  hotter  than  the  flames  —  on  him,  the  fire 
of  whose  eyes  pierces  her  heart  more  than  the 
flames  which  soon  will  burn  her  body  to  ashes. 
Can  the  heart's  flame  die  in  the  flame  of  the 
funeral  pile  ?  " 

"  I  don't  understand  that  at  all,"  said  little 
Gerda. 

"  That  is  my  story,"  said  the  Tiger-Lily. 

What  does  the  Morning-Glory  say  ? 

^^  Over  a  narrow  mountain-path  hangs  an  old 
castle.  Thick  ivy  grows  on  the  old,  falling 
walls,  leaf  by  leaf  even  up  to  the  altar,  and  there 


THE  SNOW-QUEEN,  115 

stands  a  lovely  maiden  ;  she  leans  over  the  rail- 
ing and  looks  out  upon  the  path.  No  fresher 
rose  hangs  on  the  branches  than  she ;  no  apple- 
blossom  carried  away  by  the  wind  sways  more 
than  she.  How  her  splendid  silken  robe  is  rust- 
ling !     ^  Is  he  not  yet  come  ?  '  " 

"  Is  it  Kay  that  you  mean  ? "  asked  little 
Gerda. 

"  I  am  speaking  about  my  story  — ^  about  my 
dream,"  answered  the  Morning-Glory. 

What  do  the  Snowdrops  say  ? 

"  Between  the  ti'ees  a  long  board  is  hanging 
on  a  cord,  —  it  is  a  swing.  Two  nice  little  girls 
sit  and  swing :  their  frocks  are  white  as  snow, 
long  green  silk  ribbons  flutter  from  their  bon- 
nets. Their  brother,  who  is  bigger  than  they 
are,  stands  up  in  the  swing ;  he  twines  his  arms 
round  the  cords  to  hold  himself  fast,  for  in  one 
hand  he  has  a  little  cup,  and  in  the  other  a  clay 
pipe.  He  is  blowing  soap-bubbles.  The  swing 
moves,  and  the  bubbles  float  in  charming,  chan- 
ging colors ;  the  last  is  still  hanging  to  the  end 
of  the  pipe,  and  rocks  in  the  breeze.  The  swing 
moves.  The  little  black  dog,  as  light  as  a  soap-^ 
bubble,  jimips  up  on  his  hind  legs  and  wants  to 
get  into  the  swing.  It  moves,  the  dog  falls 
down,  barks,  and  is  angry.  They  tease  him; 
the  bubble  bursts !  A  swinging  board  —  a 
bursting  bubble  —  such  is  my  song ! '' 


116  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

^^  It  may  be  pretty,  what  you  tell  about,  but 
you  tell  it  sadly,  and  you  do  not  speak  of  Kay." 

What  do  the  Hyacinths  say  ? 

**  There  were  three  sisters,  who  were  very 
pretty,  and  you  could  see  through  them.  The* 
robe  of  the  one  was  red,  that  of  the  second  blue, 
and  that  of  the  third  white.  They  danced  hand 
in  hand,  beside  the  calm  lake  in  the  clear  moon- 
shine. They  were  not  elfin  maidens,  b:\t  mortal 
children.  A  sweet  odor  was  smelt,  and  the 
maidens  vanished  in  the  wood ;  the  odor  grew 
stronger  —  three  coffins,  and  in  them,  the  three 
lovely  maidens,  passed  out  of  the  forest  and 
across  the  lake :  the  shining  glow-worms  flew 
around  like  Uttle  floating  lights.  Do  the  dan- 
cing maidens  sleep,  or  are  they  dead  ?  The  odor 
of  the  flowers  says  they  are  corpses ;  the  even- 
ing bell  tolls  for  the  dead !  " 

"  You  make  me  quite  sad,"  said  Kttle  Gerda. 
^'  Your  odor  is  so  strong.  I  cannot  help  think- 
ing of  the  dead  maidens.  Oh!  is  little  Kay 
really  dead  ?  The  Roses  have  been  in  the  earth, 
and  they  say  no." 

"  Ding,  dong !  "  sounded  the  Hyacinth  bellsc 
^^  We  do  not  toll  for  little  Kay  :  we  do  not  know 
him.  That  is  our  way  of  singing,  the  only  one 
we  know." 

And  Gerda  went  to  the  Buttercups,  that 
looked  forth  from  among  the  shining  green 
leaves. 


THE  SNOW-QUEEN.  117 

*'  You  are  a  Kttle  bright  sun  ! "  said  Gerda* 
**  Tell  me,  if  you  know,  where  I  can  find  my 
playfellow." 

And  the  Buttercups  shone  brightly,  and 
looked  again  at  Gerda.  What  song  could  the 
Buttercup  sing  ?  That  one  was  not  one  about 
Kay  either. 

"  In  a  small  yard  the  bright  sun  was  shining 
warmly  in  the  first  days  of  spring.  The  beams 
ghded  down  the  white  walls  of  a  neighbor's 
house,  and  close  by  were  growing  the  fresh 
yellow  flowers  shining  like  gold  in  the  warm 
sun-rays.  An  old  grandmother  was  sitting  in 
the  air ;  her  granddaughter,  the  poor  and  pretty 
servant,  came  home  from  a  short  visit.  She 
kissed  her  grandmother.  There  was  gold,  the 
gold  of  the  heart,  in  that  blessed  kiss.  There, 
that  is  my  little  story,"  said  the  Buttercup. 

"  My  poor  old  grandmother  !  "  sighed  Gerda. 
**  Yes,  she  is  longing  for  me,  no  doubt ;  she  is 
weeping  for  me,  as  she  did  for  little  Kay.  But 
I  shall  soon  come  home,  and  bring  Kay  with  ma 
It  is  of  no  use  asking  the  flowers ;  they  only 
know  their  own  rhymes ;  they  tell  me  no  news.'  * 

And  she  tucked  up  her  frock,  so  that  she  could 
run  quicker ;  but  the  Lily  gave  her  a  knock  on 
the  leg,  just  as  she  was  going  to  jump  over  it. 
Bo  she  stood  still,  looked  at  the  long,  yellow 
flower,  and  asked,  "You  perhaps   know  some- 


118  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

tiling  ?  "  and  she  bent  down  to  the  Lily.  And 
what  did  it  say  ? 

"  I  can  see  myself  —  I  can  see  myself  !  "  said 
the  Lily.  "  Oh,  oh,  how  I  smell !  Up  in  the 
little  garret  there  stands  half -dressed  a  little 
Dancer.  She  stands  now  on  one  leg,  now  on 
both;  she  kicks  at  the  whole  world;  she  is 
quite  dazzling.  She  pours  water  out  of  the 
teapot  over  a  piece  of  stufE  which  she  holds 
in  her  hand ;  it  is  the  bodice :  cleanliness  is 
a  fine  thing.  The  white  dress  is  hanging  on 
the  hook ;  it  was  washed  in  the  tea-pot,  and 
dried  on  the  roof.  She  puts  it  on,  ties  a  saf- 
fron-colored kerchief  round  her  neck,  and  then 
the  gown  looks  whiter.  See  how  proudly  she 
stands  !     I  can  see  myself —  I  can  see  myself  !  " 

"  That 's  nothing  to  me,"  said  Uttle  Gerda. 
**  That  does  not  concern  me."  And  then  ofE 
she  ran  to  the  further  end  of  the  garden. 

The  gate  was  locked,  but  she  shook  the 
rusted  bolt  till  it  was  loose,  and  the  gate  sprang 
open ;  and  little  Gerda  ran  off  on  her  bare  feet 
out  into  the  wide  world.  She  looked  back  three 
times,  but  no  one  came  after  her. 

At  last  she  could  run  no  longer;  she  sat 
down  on  a  large  stone,  and  when  she  looked 
about  her,  she  saw  that  the  summer  had  passed ; 
it  was  late  in  the  autumn;  one  could  not  see 
that  in  the  beautiful  garden,  where  there  was 


THE  SJXOW-QUEEN.  119 

always  sunshine,  and  where  there  were  flowers 
the  whole  year  round. 

"  Dear  me,  how  long  I  have  stayed !  '^  said 
Gerda.  "  Autumn  is  come.  I  must  not  rest 
any  longer."     And  she  got  up  to  go  further. 

Oh,  how  tender  and  wearied  her  little  fees 
were !  All  around  it  looked  cold  and  raw  ;  the 
long  willow-leaves  were  quite  yellow,  and  the 
fog  dripped  from  them  into  the  water ;  one  leaf 
fell  after  the  other :  the  sloes  only  stood  full  of 
fruit  which  set  one's  teeth  on  edge.  Oh,  how 
dark  and  dull  it  was  in  the  dreary  world ! 


FOURTH   STORY. 

The  Prince  and  Princess. 

Gerda  was  obliged  to  rest  herself  again,  when 
just  over  against  where  she  sat,  a  large  crow 
hopped  over  the  white  snow.  He  had  sat  there 
a  long  while,  looking  at  her  and  shaking  his 
bead;  and  now  he  said,  ^^Caw!  caw!  Good 
day !  good  day  !  "  He  could  not  say  it  better ; 
but  he  meant  well  by  the  little  girl,  and  asked 
her  where  she  was  going  all  alone  out  in  the 
wide  world.  The  word  "alone"  Gerda  under- 
stood  quite  well,  and  felt  how  much  lay  in  it ;  so 
she  told  the  Crow  her  whole  history,  and  asked 
x£  he  had  not  seen  Kay. 


120  HANS  ANDERSEJSrS  STORIES. 

The  Crow  nodded  very  gravely,  and  said,  **It 
may  be  —  it  may  be !  " 

"  What !  do  you  really  think  so  ?  "  cried  the 
little  girl ;  and  she  nearly  squeezed  the  Crow  tc 
death,  so  much  did  she  kiss  him. 

"  Gently,  gently,"  said  the  Crow.  "  I  think 
I  know;  I  think  that  it  may  be  little  Kay. 
But  now  he  has  quite  forgotten  you  for  the 
Princess." 

"  Does  he  live  with  a  princess?"  asked  Gerda. 

"Yes,  —  listen,"  said  the  Crow;  "but  it  is 
hard  for  me  to  speak  your  language.  If  you 
understand  the  Crow  language,  I  can  tell  you 
better." 

"  No,  I  have  not  learnt  it,"  said  Gerda ;  "  but 
my  grandmother  understands  it.  I  wish  I  had 
learnt  it." 

"  No  matter,"  said  the  Crow ;  "  I  will  tell  you 
as  well  as  I  can ;  but  it  will  be  bad  enough." 
And  then  he  told  all  he  knew. 

"In  the  kingdom  where  we  now  are,  there 
lives  a  princess,  who  is  vastly  clever;  for  she 
has  read  all  the  newspapers  in  the  whole  worldp 
and  has  forgotten  them  again,  —  so  clever  is 
she.  Some  time  ago,  they  say,  she  was  sitting 
on  her  throne,  —  which  is  no  great  fun,  after 
all, — when  she  began  humming  an  old  tune, 
and  it  was  just  *  Oh,  why  should  I  not  be 
married  ? '     ^  Come,  now,  there  is  something  in 


THE  SNOW-QUEEN.  121 

that/  said  she,  and  so  then  she  was  bound  to 
marry;  but  she  would  have  a  husband  who 
knew  how  to  give  an  answer  when  he  was 
spoken  to,  —  not  one  who  was  good  for  nothing 
but  to  stand  and  be  looked  at,  for  that  is  verj^ 
, tiresome.  She  then  had  all  the  ladies  of  the 
'court  drummed  together;  and  when  they  heard 
what  she  meant  to  do,  all  were  well  pleased,  and 
said,  ^  We  are  quite  glad  to  hear  it ;  it  is  the 
very  thing  we  were  thinking  of.'  You  may  be- 
heve  every  word  I  say,"  said  the  Crow,  "for  I 
have  a  tame  sweetheart  that  hops  about  in  the 
palace  quite  freely,  and  she  told  me  all. 

"The  newspapers  at  once  came  out  with  a 
border  of  hearts  and  the  initials  of  the  Prin- 
cess; and  you  could  read  in  them  that  every 
good-looking  young  man  was  free  to  come  to  the 
palace  and  speak  to  the  Princess  ;  and  he  who 
spoke  in  such  wise  as  showed  he  felt  himself 
at  home  there,  and  talked  best,  that  one  the 
Princess  would  choose  for  her  husband. 

"Yes  —  yes,"  said  the  Crow,  "you  may  be-^ 
lieve  it;  it  is  as  true  as  I  am  sitting  hereo 
People  came  in  crowds ;  there  was  a  crush  and 
a  hurry,  but  no  one  had  good  luck  either  on 
the  first  or  second  day.  They  could  all  talk 
well  enough  when  they  were  out  in  the  street ; 
but  as  soon  as  they  came  inside  the  palace-gates, 
and  saw  the  guard  richly  dressed  in  silver,  and 


122  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

the  lackeys  in  gold,  on  the  staircase,  and  the 
large  lighted  halls,  then  they  were  diunb  ;  and 
when  they  stood  before  the  throne  on  which 
the  Princess  was  sitting,  all  they  could  do  was 
to  repeat  the  last  word  she  had  said,  and  she 
did  n't  care  to  hear  that  again,  li  was  just  as 
if  the  people  within  were  under  a  charm,  and 
had  fallen  into  a  trance  till  they  came  out  again 
into  the  street ;  for  then,  —  oh,  then  they  could 
chatter  enough.  There  was  a  whole  row  of 
them  from  the  town-gates  to  the  palace.  I  was 
there  myself  to  look  on,"  said  the  Crow.  "They 
grew  hungry  and  thirsty:  but  from  the  palace 
they  got  not  so  much  as  a  glass  of  water. 
Some  of  the  cleverest,  it  is  true,  had  taken 
bread  and  butter  with  them  ;  but  none  shared 
it  with  his  neighbor,  for  each  thought,  '  Let 
him  look  hungry,  and  then  the  Princess  won't 
have  him.'  " 

"  But  Kay  — -  little  Kay,"  asked  Gerda, "  when 
did  he  come  ?     Was  he  among  the  number  ?  " 

"  Give  me  time  !  give  me  time  !  we  are  coming 
to  him.  It  was  on  the  third  day,  when  a  little 
personage,  without  horse  or  carriage,  came 
marching  right  boldly  up  to  the  palace ;  his  eyes 
shone  like  yours,  he  had  beautiful  long  hair, 
but  his  clothes  were  very  shabby." 

*^  That  was  Kay,"  cried  Gerda,  with  a  voice 
of  delight.  "  Oh,  now  I've  found  him  !  ".  and 
she  clapped  her  hands* 


THE  snow-queen:  123 

**  He  had  a  little  knapsack  at  his  back/'  said 
the  Crow. 

"  No,  that  was  certainly  his  sled,"  said  Gerda  : 
'^  for  he  went  away  with  his  sled." 

"  That  may  be,"  said  the  Crow ;  ''  I  did  not 
see  him  close  to ;  but  I  know  from  my  tame 
sweetheart  that  when  he  came  into  the  court- 
yard of  the  palace,  and  saw  the  body-guard  in 
silver,  and  the  lackeys  on  the  staircase  in  gold, 
he  was  not  in  the  least  cast  down ;  he  nodded, 
and  said  to  them,  'Vc  must  be  very  tiresome  to 
stand  on  the  stairs  ;  for  my  part,  I  shall  go  in.* 
The  halls  were  bright  with  lights.  Court-people 
and  fine  folks  were  walking  about  on  bare  feet ; 
it  was  all  very  solemn.  His  boots  creaked,  too, 
very  loudly ;  but  still  he  was  not  at  all  afraid." 

"  That 's  Kay,  for  certain,"  said  Gerda.  "  I 
know  he  had  on  new  boots ;  I  have  heard  them 
creaking  in  grandmamma's  room." 

"  Yes,  they  creaked,"  said  the  Crow.  "  And 
on  he  went  boldly  up  to  the  Princess,  who  was 
sitting  on  a  pearl  as  large  as  a  spinning-wheel. 
AH  the  ladies  of  the  court  stood  about,  with 
their  maids  and  their  maids'  maids,  and  all  the 
gentlemen  with  their  servants  and  their  servants' 
servants,  who  kept  a  boy ;  and  the  nearer  they 
stood  to  the  door,  the  prouder  they  looked. 
The  boy  of  the  servants'  servants,  who  always 
goes  in  slippers,  hardly  looked  at  one,  so  very 
proudly  did  he  stand  in  the  doorway." 


124  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES, 

"  It  must  have  been  terrible,"  said  little  Gerda. 
"  And  did  Kay  get  the  Princess  ?  " 

**  Were  I  not  a  Crow,  I  should  have  taken  the 
Princess  myself,  although  I  am  engaged.  It  ii 
said  he  spoke  as  well  as  I  speak  when  I  talk 
crow  language ;  this  I  learned  from  my  tame 
sweetheart.  He  was  bold  and  nicely  behaved ; 
he  had  not  come  to  woo  the  Princess,  but  only 
to  hear  her  wisdom.  She  pleased  him,  and  he 
pleased  her." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  for  certain  that  was  Kay,"  said 
Gerda.  "  He  was  so  clever  ;  he  could  do  sums 
with  fractions.  Oh,  won't  you  take  me  to  the 
palace  ?  " 

"  That  is  very  easily  said,"  answered  the  Crow. 
*^  But  how  are  we  to  manage  it  ?  I  '11  speak  to 
my  tame  sweetheart  about  it;  she  can  tell  us 
what  to  do ;  for  so  much  I  must  tell  you,  such 
a  little  girl  as  you  are  will  never  get  leave  to 
go  in  the  common  way." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  shall,"  said  Gerda ;  *^  when  Kay 
hears  that  I  am  here,  he  will  come  out  at  once 
.to  fetch  me." 

'     "  Wait  for  me  here  on  these  steps,"  said  the 
Crow.     He  wagged  his  head,  and  flew  away. 

When  it  grew  dark  the  Crow  came  backo 
*^  Caw !  caw  !  "  said  he.  "  I  bring  you  a  great 
many  good  wishes  from  her ;  and  here  is  a  bit 
of  bread  for  you.   She  took  it  out  of  the  kitchen, 


THE  SNOW-QUEEN,  125 

where  there  is  bread  enough,  and  you  are  hun- 
gry, no  doubt.  It  is  not  possible  for  you  to  en- 
ter the  palace,  for  you  are  barefoot ;  the  guards 
in  silver  and  the  lackeys  in  gold  would  not  allow 
it ;  but  do  not  cry,  you  shall  come  in  still.  My 
sweetheart  knows  a  Httle  back-stair  that  leads  to 
the  chamber,  and  she  knows  where  she  can  get 
the  key  of  it." 

And  they  went  into  the  garden  by  the  broad 
path,  where  one  leaf  was  falling  after  the  other ; 
and  when  the  lights  in  the  palace  were  all  put 
out,  one  after  the  other,  the  Crow  led  httle 
Gerda  to  the  back  door,  which  stood  ajar. 

Oh,  how  Gerda's  heart  beat  with  doubt  and 
longing !  It  was  just  as  if  she  had  been  about 
to  do  something  wrong;  and  yet  she  only 
wanted  to  know  if  Uttle  Kay  was  there.  Yes,  he 
must  be  there.  She  called  to  mind  his  clear 
eyes  and  his  long  hair  so  vividly,  she  could  quite 
see  him  as  he  used  to  laugh  when  they  were  sit- 
ting under  the  roses  at  home.  He  would  surely 
be  glad  to  see  her  —  to  hear  what  a  long  way 
she  had  come  for  his  sake  ;  to  know  how  un-^ 
happy  all  at  home  were  when  he  did  not  comet 
back.     Oh,  what  a  fright  and  what  a  joy  it  was ! 

Now  they  were  on  the  stairs.  A  single  lamp 
was  burning  there ;  and  on  the  floor  stood  the 
tame  Crow,  turning  her  head  on  every  side  and 
looking  at  Gerda,  who  bowed  as  her  grand- 
mother had  taught  her  to  do. 


126  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

^'  My  intended  has  told  me  so  much  good  of 
you,  my  dear  young  lady,"  said  the  tame  Crow. 
"  Your  Life,  as  they  call  it,  is  very  affecting.  If 
you  will  take  the  lamp,  I  will  go  before.  We 
will  go  straight  on,  for  we  shall  meet  no  one." 

"  I  think  there  is  somebody  just  behind  us,^^ 
said  Gerda  ;  and  it  rushed  past  her  :  it  was  like 
shadows  on  the  wall ;  horses  with  flowing  manes 
and  thin  legs,  huntsmen,  ladies  and  gentlemen 
on  horseback. 

"They  are  only  dreams,"  said  the  Crow. 
"  They  come  to  fetch  the  thoughts  of  the  fine 
folk  to  the  chase;  'tis  well,  for  now  you  can 
see  them  asleep  all  the  better.  But  let  me  find, 
when  you  come  to  have  honor  and  fame,  that 
you  possess  a  grateful  heart." 

"  Tut !  that 's  not  worth  talking  about,"  said 
the  Crow  from  the  woods. 

Now  they  came  into  the  first  hall,  which  was 
of  rose-colored  satin,  with  painted  flowers  on  the 
wall.  Here  the  dreams  were  rushing  past,  but 
they  hurried  by  so  quickly  that  Gerda  could  not 
see  the  fine  people.  One  hall  was  more  showy 
than  the  other;  one  might  indeed  well  be 
abashed ;  and  at  last  they  came  into  the  bed- 
chamber.  The  ceiling  of  the  room  was  Uke  a 
great  palm-tree,  with  leaves  of  glass,  of  costly 
glass;  and  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  from  a 
thick  golden  stalk,  hung  two  beds,  each  of  which 


THE  SNOW-QUEEN.  127 

was  shaped  like  a  lily.  One  was  white,  and  in 
this  lay  the  Princess  :  the  other  was  red,  and  it 
was  here  that  Gerda  was  to  look  for  little  Kay. 
She  bent  back  one  of  the  red  leaves,  and  saw  a 
brown  neck  —  oh,  that  was  Kay !  She  called  him 
quite  loud  by  name,  held  the  lamp  toward  him 
) — the  dreams  rushed  again  on  horseback  into 
the  chamber  —  he  awoke,  turned  his  head,  and 
—  it  was  not  Uttle  Kay  ! 

The  Prince  was  only  like  him  about  the  neck ; 
but  he  was  young  and  handsome.  And  out  of 
the  white  lily  leaves  the  Princess  peeped  too,  and 
asked  what  was  the  matter.  Then  Uttle  Gerda 
cried  and  told  her  whole  history,  and  all  that  the 
Crows  had  done  for  her. 

"  Poor  httle  thing !  "  said  the  Prince  and  the 
Princess,  and  they  praised  the  Crows  very  much, 
and  told  them  they  were  not  at  all  angry  with 
them,  but  they  were  not  to  do  so  again.  How- 
ever; they  should  have  a  reward. 

"Will  you  fly  about  at  liberty?"  asked  the 
Princess  ;  "  or  would  you  like  to  have  a  steady 
place  as  court  Crows  with  all  the  broken  bits 
from  the  kitchen  ?  " 

And  both  the  Crows  nodded,  and  begged  for 
a  steady  place ;  for  they  thought  of  their  old 
age,  and  said,  "it  was  a  good  thing  to  have 
something  for  the  old  folks,"  as  the  saying  is. 

And  the  Prince  got  up  and  let  Gerda  sleep  in 


128  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

his  bed,  and  more  than  this  he  could  not  do.  She 
folded  her  little  hands,  and  thought,  "  How  good 
men  and  animals  are !  "  and  then  she  shut  her 
eyes  and  slept  soundly.  All  the  dreams  came 
flying  in  again,  and  they  now  looked  like  the 
jingels ;  they  drew  a  little  sled,  on  which  Kay  sat 
and  nodded  his  head ;  but  the  whole  was  only  a 
dream,  and  so  it  was  all  gone  as  soon  as  she 
awoke. 

The  next  day  she  was  dressed  from  top  to  toe 
in  silk  and  velvet.  They  offered  to  let  her  stay 
at  the  palace,  and  lead  a  happy  life ;  but  she 
begged  only  to  have  a  httle  carriage  with  a  horse 
in  front,  and  for  a  small  pair  of  shoes ;  then, 
she  said,  she  would  again  go  forth  in  the  wide 
world  and  look  for  Kay. 

And  she  got  both  shoes  and  a  muff;  she 
was  dressed  very  nicely,  too ;  and  when  she 
was  about  to  set  off,  a  new  carriage  stopped  be- 
fore the  door.  It  was  of  pure  gold,  and  the 
arms  of  the  fence  and  Princess  shone  like  a 
star  upon  it;  the  coachman,  the  footmen,  and 
the  outriders,  for  outriders  were  there  too,  all^ 
wore  golden  crowns.  The  Prince  and  the  Prin- 
cess helped  her  into  the  carriage  themselves,  and 
THLshed  her  good  luck.  The  Crow  of  the  woods, 
who  was  now  married,  went  with  her  for  the 
first  three  miles.  He  sat  beside  Gerda,  for  he 
could  not  bear  riding  backward  ;  the  other  Crow 


THE  SNOW-QUEEN,  129 

Btood  in  the  doorway,  and  flapped  her  wings  5 
she  could  not  go  with  Gerda,  because  she  suf- 
fered from  headache  since  she  had  had  a  steady- 
place,  and  ate  so  much.  The  carriage  was  lined 
inside  with  sugar-plums,  and  in  the  seats  were 
fruits  and  cookies. 

"  Good  -  by !  good  -  by  !  "  cried  Prince  and 
Princess ;  and  little  Gerda  wept,  and  the  Crows 
wept.  Thus  passed  the  first  miles ;  and  then 
the  Crow  said  good-by,  and  this  was  the  worst 
good-by  of  all.  He  flew  into  a  tree,  and  beat 
his  black  wings  as  long  as  he  could  see  the 
carriage,  that  shone  from  afar  like  the  clear 
sunUght. 


FIFTH    STORY. 
The  Little  Rohber-Maiden. 

They  drove  through  the  dark  wood  ;  but  the 
carriage  shone  like  a  torch,  and  it  dazzled  the 
eyes  of  the  robbers,  so  that  they  could  not  bear 
to  look  at  it. 

"  'T  is  gold  !  't  is  gold  !  "  cried  they  ;  and 
they  rushed  forward,  seized  the  horses,  knocked 
down  the  little  footboy,  the  coachman,  and  the 
servants,  and  pulled  Uttle  Gerda  out  of  the 
carriage. 

"  She  is  plump ;  she  is  nice  !     She  must  have 


130  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

been  fed  on  nut-kernels,"  said  the  old  female 
Robber,  who  had  a  long,  scrubby  beard,  and 
eyebrows  that  hung  down  over  her  eyes :  "  she 
is  as  good  as  a  fatted  lamb !  how  nice  she  will 
be  !  "  And  then  she  drew  out  her  bright  knife^ 
and  it  shone  so  that  it  was  quite  dreadful. 

^*  Oh !  "  cried  the  woman  at  the  same  mo- 
ment. She  had  been  bitten  in  the  ear  by  her 
own  little  daughter,  who  hung  at  her  back ;  and 
who  was  so  wild  and  untamed  that  it  was  quite 
.amusing  to  see  her.  "  You  naughty  child !  " 
said  the  mother ;  and  now  she  had  not  time  to 
kill  Gerda, 

"  She  shall  play  with  me,"  said  the  little  Rob- 
ber-child :  "  she  shall  give  me  her  mufiP,  and  her 
pretty  frock ;  she  shall  sleep  with  me  in  my 
bed !  "  And  then  she  gave  her  mother  another 
bite,  so  that  she  jumped  into  the  air  and  turned 
round  and  round ;  and  all  the  robbers  laughed, 
and  said,  "Look  how  she  is  dancing  with  the 
little  ones ! " 

"  I  will  go  into  the  carriage,"  said  the  little 
Robber-maiden  ;  and  she  would  have  her  will^ 
for  she  was  very  spoiled,  and  very  stubborn. 
She  and  Gerda  got  in;  and  then  away  they 
drove  over  the  stumps  of  felled  trees,  deeper 
and  deeper  into  the  woods.  The  little  Robber- 
maiden  was  as  tall  as  Gerda,  but  stronger,  with 
broader  shoulders,  and  of   dark  hue ;  her  ayes 


THE  SNOW-QUEEN,  131 

were  quite  black ;  they  looked  almost  sad.  She 
put  her  arms  round  httle  Gerda,  and  said, 
'^  They  shall  not  kill  you  as  long  as  I  am  not 
vexed  with  you.    You  are,  doubtless,  a  princess  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  little  Gerda  ;  and  told  her  all  that 
had  happened  to  her,  and  how  much  she  cared 
about  little  Kay. 

The  Robber-maiden  looked  at  her  with  a 
serious  air,  nodded  her  head  a  little,  and  said, 
"  They  shall  not  kill  you,  even  if  I  am  angry 
with  you  :  then  I  will  do  it  myself ; "  and  then 
she  dried  Gerda' s  eyes,  and  put  both  her  hands 
into  the  handsome  muff,  which  was  so  soft  and 
wrarm. 

At  last  the  carriage  stopped.  They  were  in 
the  midst  of  the  court-yard  of  a  robber's  castle. 
It  was  full  of  cracks  from  top  to  bottom ;  and 
ravens  and  crows  were  flying  out  of  the  holes ; 
and  the  great  bulldogs,  each  of  which  looked  as 
if  he  could  swallow  a  man,  jumped  up,  but  they 
did  not  bark,  for  that  was  forbidden. 

In  the  midst  of  the  large,  old,  smoking  hall 
a  great  fire  burnt  on  the  stone  floor.  The 
smoke  rose  to  the  roof,  and  found  its  way  out. 
In  a  big  kettle  soup  was  boiling;  and  rabbits 
and  hares  were  roasting  on  a  spit. 

"  You  shall  sleep  with  me  to-night,  with  all 
my  animals,"  said  the  Robber-maiden.  They 
had  something  to  eat  and  drink  ;  and  then  went 


132  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

into  a  corner,  where  straw  and  carpets  were 
lying.  Beside  them,  on  laths  and  perches,  sat 
nearly  a  hundred  pigeons  ;  all  seemed  to  be 
asleep;  but  they  moved  a  little  when  the  chil- 
dren came. 

"  They  are  all  mine,"  said  the  little  Robber- 
maiden;  and  she  caught  hold  of  the  nearest 
one,  held  it  by  the  legs,  and  shook  it  so  that 
its  wings  fluttered.  "  Kiss  it !  "  she  cried  and 
flung  the  pigeon  in  Gerda's  face.  "  Up  there 
is  the  rabble  of  the  wood,"  she  went  on,  point- 
ing to  several  sticks  which  were  fastened  before 
a  hole  high  up  in  the  wall ;  "  that 's  the  rabble  ; 
they  would  all  fly  away  at  once,  if  they  were 
not  well  fastened  in.  And  here  is  my  dear  old 
Bac ;  "  and  she  laid  hold  of  the  horns  of  a 
reindeer,  that  had  a  bright  copper  ring  round 
its  neck,  and  was  tied  to  the  spot.  "  We  have 
to  lock  this  fellow  in,  too,  or  he  would  run 
away.  Every  evening  I  tickle  his  neck  with 
my  sharp  knife ;  that  frightens  him ! "  and 
the  little  girl  drew  forth  a  long  knife  from  a 
crack  in  the  wall,  and  let  it  gHde  over  the  rein- 
deer's neck.  The  poor  beast  kicked ;  the  Rob- 
ber-maiden laughed,  and  pulled  Gerda  into  bed 
with  her. 

^^  Shall  you  keep  your  knife  with  you  while 
you  sleep?"  asked  Gerda,  looking  at  it  rather 
fearfully. 


THE  S^OW'QUEEN,  133 

"  I  always  sleep  with  the  knife,"  said  the 
little  Robber-maideu :  "  there  is  no  knowing 
what  may  happen.  But  tell  me  now,  once  more, 
what  you  told  me  about  little  Kay;  and  why 
you  have  gone  out  into  the  wide  world." 

Then  Gerda  told  all,  from  the  very  begin- 
ning: the  Wood-pigeons  cooed  above  in  their 
cage,  and  the  others  slept.  The  little  Robber- 
maiden  wound  her  arm  round  Gerda's  neck,  held 
the  knife  in  the  other  hand,  and  slept,  for  one 
could  hear  her ;  but  Gerda  could  not  close  her 
eyes,  for  she  did  not  know  whether  she  was  to 
live  or  die.  The  Robbers  sat  round  the  fire, 
sang  and  drank ;  and  the  old  female  Robber 
jumped  head  over  heels,  so  that  it  was  dreadful 
for  Gerda  to  see  her. 

Then  the  Wood  -  pigeons  said,  "  Coo  !  coo  ! 
we  have  seen  little  Kay !  A  white  hen  carries 
his  sled ;  he  sat  in  the  carriage  of  the  Snow- 
Queen,  that  darted  past  here,  down  over  the 
wood,  as  we  lay  in  our  nest.  She  blew  upon 
us  young  ones,  and  all  died  except  us  two. 
Coo !  coo  !  " 

"  What  is  that  you  say  up  there  ?  "  cried  httle 
Gerda.  "Where  did  the  Snow-Queen  go  to? 
Do  you  know  anything  about  it  ?  " 

"  She  is  no  doubt  gone  to  Lapland ;  for  there 
are  always  snow  and  ice  there.  Only  ask  the 
Reindeer,  who  is  tied  here  by  a  cord." 


134  HANS  ANDERSEN'S   STORIES. 


1 


^'  Ay,  ice  and  snow  indeed  !  There  it  is  glo 
nous  and  beautiful !  "  said  the  Reindeer.  "  One 
can  spring  about  in  the  large,  shining  valleys  1 
The  Snow-Queen  has  her  summer -tent  there  | 
but  her  fixed  abode  is  high  up  towards  the 
North  Pole,  on  the  island  called  Spitzbergen." 

"  Oh,  Kay !  Uttle  Kay  !  "  sighed  Gerda. 

"  Do  you  lie  still !  "  said  the  Robber-rmaiden, 
^^  or  you  will  get  the  knife !  " 

In  the  morning  Gerda  told  her  all  that  the 
Wood-pigeons  had  said ;  and  the  little  Robber- 
maiden  looked  very  serious,  but  she  nodded  her 
head,  and  said,  "  That 's  no  matter  —  that 's  no 
matter.  Do  you  know  where  Lapland  lies?'* 
asked  she  of  the  Reindeer. 

"  Who  should  know  better  than  I  ?  "  said  the 
animal ;  and  his  eyes  rolled  in  his  head.  "  I 
was  born  and  bred  there;  there  I  leapt  about 
on  the  fields  of  snow." 

"  Listen,"  said  the  Robber-maiden  to  Gerda. 
"You  see  that  all  the  men  are  gone;  but  my 
mother  is  still  here,  and  she  stays  ;  but  towards 
morning  she  takes  a  draught  out  of  the  large 
flask,  and  then  she  sleeps  a  little :  then  I  will 
do  something  for  you."  She  now  jumped  out  o£ 
bed  and  flew  to  her  mother ;  she  put  her  arms 
round  her  neck,  and  pulling  her  by  the  beard, 
said,  "  My  own  sweet  nanny-goat,  good-morn- 
ing !  "     And  her  mother  took  hold  of  her  nose, 


THE  SNOW-QUEEN,  135 

and  pinched  it  till  it  was  red  and  blue  ;  but  this 
was  all  done  out  of  pure  love. 

When  the  mother  had  taken  a  sup  at  her 
flask,  and  was  having  a  nap,  the  Robber- 
maiden  went  to  the  Reindeer,  and  said,  ^'I 
should  very  much  Uke  to  give  you  still  many  a 
tickling  with  the  sharp  knife,  for  then  you  are  so 
funny ;  but  no  matter,  I  will  untie  you,  and  help 
yoii  out,  so  that  you  may  get  back  to  Lapland. 
But  you  must  make  good  use  of  your  legs  ;  and 
take  this  little  girl  of  mine  to  the  palace  of 
the  Snow-Queen,  where  her  playfellow  is.  You 
have  heard,  I  suppose,  all  she  said ;  for  she  spoke 
loud  enough,  and  you  were  listening." 

The  Reindeer  gave  a  bound  for  joy.  The 
Robber-maiden  lifted  up  little  Gerda,  and  took 
care  to  bind  her  fast  on  the  Reindeer's  back ; 
she  even  gave  her  a  small  cushion  to  sit  on. 
"Here  are  your  worsted  stockings,  for  it  will 
be  cold ;  but  the  muff  I  shall  keep  for  myself, 
it  is  so  very  ^pretty.  For  all  that,  you  shall  not 
freeze.  Here  are  my  mother's  big  mittens ; 
they  just  reach  to  your  elbow.  On  with  them  ! 
Now  your  hands  look  just  Uke  those  of  my  ugly 
old  mother ! " 

And  Gerda  wept  for  joy. 

"  I  can't  bear  to  see  you  fretting,"  said  the 
little  Robber-maiden.  "  This  is  just  the  time 
when  you  ought  to  look  pleased.     Here  are  two 


136  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES, 

loaves  a  ad  a  ham  for  you,  so  that  you  won't 
starve."  The  bread  and  the  meat  were  fastened 
to  the  lieindeer's  back  ;  the  little  Robber-maiden 
opened  the  door,  called  in  all  the  great  dogs,  and 
then  with  her  knife  cut  the  rope  that  tied  the 
animal,  and  said  to  him,  "  Now  off  with  you  5 
but  take  good  care  of  the  little  girl !  " 

And  Gerda  stretched  out  her  hands  with  the 
large  mittens  toward  the  Robber-maiden,  and 
said,  "  Good-by !  "  and  the  Reindeer  flew  on 
over  bush  and  stump,  through  the  great  wood, 
over  moor  and  heath,  as  fast  as  he  could  go. 

"  Ddsa  !  ddsa !  "  was  heard  in  the  sky.  It 
was  just  as  if  somebody  was  sneezing. 

"These  are  my  old  Northern  Lights,"  said 
the  Reindeer  ;  "  look  how  they  gleam !  "  And 
on  he  now  sped  still  quicker,  night  and  day  : 
the  bread  was  eaten,  and  the  ham  too;  and  now 
they  were  in  Lapland. 


SIXTH  STORY. 

^7%e  Lapland  Woman  and  the  Finland  Woman, 

They  stood  still  before  a  little  house ;  it  was 
a  poor  place :  the  roof  reached  to  the  ground ; 
the  door  was  so  low,  that  the  family  were 
obliged  to  creep  upon  their  stomachs  when  they 
went  in  or  out.     Nobody  was  at  home  except  an 


THE  SNOW-QUEEN.  137 

old  Lapland  woman,  who  stood  and  dressed  fish 
by  the  Ught  of  an  oil  lamp.  The  Reindeer  told 
her  the  whole  of  Gerda's  story,  but  first  of  all, 
his  own  ;  for  that  seemed  to  him  much  better 
worth  hearing.  Gerda  was  so  chilled  that  she 
could  not  speak. 

"  Poor  thing,"  said  the  Lapland  woman,  "  yon 
have  far  to  run  still.  You  have  more  than  a 
hundred  miles  to  go  before  you  get  to  Finland  ; 
there  the  Snow-Queen  has  her  country-house, 
and  burns  blue  lights  every  evening.  I  will  give 
you  a  few  words  from  me,  which  I  will  write  on 
a  dried  codfish,  for  paper  I  have  none ;  this  you 
can  take  with  you  to  the  Finland  woman,  and 
she  will  be  able  to  tell  you  more  than  I  can." 

When  Gerda  had  warmed  herself,  and  had 
eaten  and  drunk,  the  Lapland  woman  wrote  a 
few  words  on  a  dried  codfish,  begged  Gerda  to 
take  care  of  them,  put  her  on  the  Reindeer 
again,  bound  her  fast,  and  away  sprang  the  ani- 
mal. "  Ddsa  !  ddsa  !  "  was  again  heard  in  the 
air ;  the  most  charming  blue  lights  burned  the 
whole  night  in  the  sky,  and  at  last  they  came 
to  Finland.  They  knocked  at  the  chimney  of 
the  Finland  woman ;  for  as  to  a  door,  she  had 
none. 

Thsre  was  such  a  heat  inside  that  the  Finland 
woman  herself  went  about  almost  naked.  She 
was  Uttle  and  dirty.     She  at  once  loosened  little 


138  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

Gerda's  clothes,  pulled  off  her  thick  mittens  and 
boots,  for  the  heat  would  have  been  too  great, 
and  after  laying  a  piece  of  ice  on  the  Reindeer's 
head,  read  what  was  written  on  the  fish-skin. 
She  read  it  three  times  ;  then  she  knew  it  by 
heart ;  so  she  put  the  fish  into  the  cupboard,  — 
for  it  might  very  well  be  eaten,  and  she  never 
threw  anything  away. 

The  Reindeer  told  his  own  story  first,  and 
afterwards  that  of  little  Gerda ;  and  the  Fin- 
land woman  winked  her  eyes,  but  said  noth- 
ing. 

"  You  are  so  clever,"  said  the  Reindeer  :  "  you 
can,  I  know,  twist  all  the  winds  of  the  world  to- 
gether in  a  knot.  If  the  sailor  loosens  one  knot, 
then  he  has  a  good  wind ;  if  a  second,  then  it 
blows  pretty  stiffly ;  if  he  undoes  the  third  and 
fourth,  then  it  rages  so  that  the  woods  are  blown 
down.  Will  you  give  the  little  maiden  a  drink, 
that  she  may  possess  the  strength  of  twelve 
men,  and  conquer  the  Snow-Queen  ?  " 

"  The  strength  of  twelve  men  !  "  said  the  Fin- 
land woman ;  "  much  good  that  would  be  !  " 
But  she  went  to  a  shelf,  and  drew  out  a  large 
skin  rolled  up.  When  she  had  unrolled  it, 
strange  letters  were  to  be  seen  written  on  it ;  and 
the  Finland  woman  read  at  such  a  rate,  that  the 
water  ran  down  her  forehead.  But  the  Reindeer 
begged   so   hard   for   little   Gerda,  and    Gerda 


THE  SNOW-QUEEN.  139 

looked  with  such  pleading  eyes  full  of  tears  at 
the  Finland  woman,  that  she  winked  and  drew 
the  Reindeer  aside  into  a  corner,  where  she 
whispered  to  him,  while  he  had  some  fresh  ice 
put  on  his  head. 

"  'T  is  true  little  Kay  is  at  the  Snow-Queen* s, 
and  finds  everytliing  there  quite  to  his  taste  ; 
and  he  thinks  it  the  very  best  place  in  the  world  % 
but  the  reason  of  that  is,  he  has  a  splinter  of 
glass  in  his  heart  and  a  little  grain  of  glass  in 
his  eye.  These  must  be  got  out  first ;  or  else  he 
will  never  go  back  to  mankind,  and  the  Snow- 
Queen  will  retain  her  power  over  him." 

"  But  can  you  not  give  little  Gerda  something 
so  that  she  can  have  power  over  the  whole  ?  " 

"  I  can  give  her  no  more  power  than  what  she 
has  already.  Don't  you  see  how  great  it  is  ? 
Don't  you  see  how  men  and  beasts  are  forced  to 
serve  her  ;  how  well  she  gets  through  the  world 
on  her  bare  feet  ?  She  must  not  hear  of  her 
power  from  us  :  that  power  lies  in  her  heart,  be- 
cause she  is  a  sweet  and  innocent  child !  If  she 
cannot  get  to  the  Snow-Queen  by  herself,  and 
rid  little  Kay  of  the  glass,  we  cannot  help  her. 
Two  miles  hence  the  garden  of  the  Snow-Queen 
begins  ;  there  you  may  carry  the  Uttle  girl.  Set 
her  down  by  the  large  bush  that  stands  there  in 
the  snow,  with  red  berries ;  don't  stay  talking, 
but  hurry  back  as  fast  as  possible."     And  now 


140  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

the  Finland  woman  placed  little  Gerda  on  the 
Reindeer's  back,  and  off  he  ran  with  all  imagin- 
able  speed. 

"  Oh  !  I  have  not  got  my  boots  !  I  have  not 
brought  my  mittens  !  "  cried  little  Gerda.  She 
felt  it  in  the  cutting  frost;  but  the  Reindeer 
dared  not  stand  still ;  on  he  ran  till  he  came  to 
the  great  bush  with  the  red  berries  :  and  there 
he  set  Gerda  down,  kissed  her  mouth,  while 
large,  bright  tears  flowed  from  the  animal's  eyes, 
and  then  back  he  went  as  fast  as  he  could. 
There  stood  poor  Gerda  now,  without  shoes 
without  gloves,  in  the  very  middle  of  dreadful, 
icy  Finland. 

She  ran  on  as  fast  as  she  could.  There  came 
a  whole  regiment  of  snowflakes,  but  they  did  not 
fall  from  above,  and  they  were  quite  bright  and 
shining  from  the  Northern  Lights.  The  flakes 
ran  along  the  ground,  and  the  nearer  they  came 
the  larger  they  grew.  Gerda  well  remembered 
how  large  and  strange  the  snowflakes  looked 
when  she  saw  them  once  through  a  glass ;  but 
now  they  were  large  and  terrific  in  another 
manner  —  they  were  all  alive.  They  were  the 
outrunners  of  the  Snow-Queen.  They  had  the 
strangest  shapes ;  some  looked  like  large  ugly 
porcupines  ;  others  like  snakes  knotted  together, 
with  their  heads  sticking  out ;  and  others,  again, 
like  small  fat  bears,  with  the  hair  standing  on 


THE  SNOW-QUEEN,  141 

end :  all  were  of  dazzling  whiteness  —  all  were 
living  snowflakes. 

Little  Gerda  repeated  the  Lord's  Prayer.  The 
cold  was  so  intense  that  she  could  see  her  own 
breath,  which  came  like  smoke  out  of  her  mouth. 
It  grew  thicker  and  thicker,  and  took  the  form 
of  little  angels,  that  grew  more  and  more  when 
they  touched  the  earth.  All  had  helmets  on 
their  heads,  and  lances  and  shields  in  their 
hands ;  there  were  more  and  more  of  them,  and 
when  Gerda  had  finished  the  Lord's  Prayer,  a 
whole  legion  was  about  her.  They  thrust  at  the 
horrid  snowflakes  with  their  spears,  so  that  they 
flew  into  a  thousand  pieces :  and  Httle  Gerda 
walked  on  bravely  and  safely.  The  angels  pat- 
ted her  hands  and  feet :  and  then  she  felt  the 
cold  less,  and  went  on  quickh  towards  the  pal- 
ace of  the  Snow-Queen. 

But  now  we  shall  see  first  how  it  was  with 
Kay.  He  never  thought  of  little  Gerda,  and 
least  of  all  that  she  was  standing  before  the 
palace. 

SEVENTH   STORY. 

What  took  place  in  the  Palace  of  the  Snow-  Queen^ 
and  what  happened  afterward. 

The  walls  of  th?  palace  wej-e  of  driving  snow, 
and  the  windows   \nd  doors  of  cutting    winds. 


142  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

There  were  more  than  a  hundred  halls  there, 
just  as  the  snow  was  driven  by  the  winds.  The 
largest  was  many  miles  long;  all  were  liglited 
by  the  great  Northern  Lights,  and  all  were  so 
large,  so  empty,  so  icy  cold,  and  so  shining  ! 
Mirth  never  reigned  there;  there  was  never 
even  a  little  bear-ball,  with  the  storm  for  music, 
while  the  polar  bears  went  on  their  hind-legs 
and  showed  ofE  their  steps.  Never  a  httle  tea- 
party  of  white  young  lady  foxes  ;  vast,  cold,  and 
empty  were  the  halls  of  the  Snow-Queen.  The 
Northern  Lights  shone  so  that  one  could  tell 
exactly  when  they  were  at  their  highest,  and 
when  they  were  at  their  lowest.  In  the  middle 
of  the  empty,  endless  hall  of  snow  was  a  frozen 
lake;  it  was  cracked  in  a  thousand  pieces,  but 
each  piece  was  so  just  like  the  others,  that  it 
seemed  the  work  of  a  cunning  workman.  In 
the  middle  of  this  lake  sat  the  Snow-Queen 
when  she  was  at  home ;  and  then  she  said  she 
was  sitting  in  the  Mirror  of  Understanding,  and 
that  this  was  the  only  one  and  the  best  thing  in 
the  world. 

Little  Kay  was  quite  blue,  yes,  nearly  black 
with  cold ;  but  he  did  not  notice  it,  for  she  had 
kissed  away  all  feeling  of  cold  from  his  body, 
and  his  heart  was  the  same  as  a  lump  of  ice.  He 
was  dragging  along  some  sharp  flat  pieces  of  ice, 
which  he  laid  together  in  all  sorts  of  ways,  for  he 


THE  SNOW-QUEEN.  143 

wanted  to  make  something  with  them ;  just  as 
we  have  little  flat  pieces  of  wood  to  make  figui-ea 
with,  called  the  Chinese  Puzzle.  Kay  made  all 
sorts  of  figures,  the  most  mixed  up,  for  it  was 
an  ire  puzzle.  In  his  eyes  the  figures  were  very 
wonderful  and  of  the  highest  value ;  for  the  bit 
of  glass  which  was  in  his  eyes  caused  this.  He 
found  whole  figures  which  made  a  written  word  ; 
but  he  never  could  manage  to  spell  just  the 
word  he  wanted  —  that  word  was  "  Eternity  ; " 
and  the  Snow-Queen  had  said,  "  If  you  can  find 
that  figure,  you  shall  be  your  own  master,  and 
I  will  make  you  a  present  of  the  whole  world 
and  a  pair  of  new  skates."  But  he  could  not 
find  it  out. 

"I  am  going  now  to  the  warm  lands,"  said 
the  Snow-Queen.  "  I  must  have  a  look  down 
into  the  black  kettles."  It  was  the  volcanoes 
of  Vesuvius  and  Etna  that  she  meant.  "  I  will 
just  give  them  a  coating  of  white,  for  that  is  as 
it  ought  to  be;  besides,  it  is  good  for  tho 
oranges  and  grapes."  And  so  away  flew  the 
Snow-Queen,  and  Kay  sat  quite  alone  in  the 
empty  halls  of  ice  that  were  miles  long,  and 
looked  at  the  blocks  of  ice,  and  thought  and 
thought  till  his  skull  was  almost  cracked. 
There  he  sat  quite  stiff  and  still ;  one  would 
believe  he  was  frozen  to  death. 

Then  it  was  that  little  Gerda  stepped  through 


144  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

the  great  gate  into  the  palace.  The  gate  was 
formed  of  cutting  winds;  but  Gerda  repeated 
her  evening  prayer,  and  the  winds  were  laid 
as  though  they  slept ;  and  she  entered  the  vast, 
empty,  cold  halls.  There  she  saw  Kay ;  she 
knew  him,  she  flew  to  put  her  arms  about  him, 
held  him  tight,  and  cried,  "  Kay,  sweet  little 
Kay !     Have  I  then  found  you  at  last  ?  " 

But  he  sat  quite  still,  stiff  and  cold.  Then 
little  Gerda  shed  hot  tears ;  and  they  fell  on  his 
breast,  they  pressed  into  his  heart,  they  thawed 
the  lumps  of  ice,  and  burned  away  the  splinters 
of  the  looking-glass ;  he  looked  at  her,  and 
she  sang  the  hymn  :  — 

"  The  rose  in  the  valley  is  blooming  so  sweet, 
The  Child  Jesus  is  there  the  children  to  greet." 

Then  Kay  burst  into  tears ;  he  wept  so  much 
that  the  splinter  rolled  out  of  his  eye,  and  he 
knew  her,  and  shouted,  "  Gerda,  sweet  little 
Gerda!  where  have  you  been  so  long?  And 
where  have  I  been  ?  "  He  looked  round  him. 
"  How  cold  it  is  here  !  "  said  he :  "  how  empty 
and  cold ! "  And  he  held  fast  by  Gerda,  who 
laughed  and  wept  for  joy.  It  was  so  beautiful, 
that  even  the  blocks  of  ice  danced  about  for 
joy;  and  when  they  were  tired  and  laid  them- 
selves down,  they  formed  just  the  letters  which 
the  Snow-Queen  had  told  him  to  find  out ;  so 


THE  SNOW-QUEEN.  145 

now  he  was  his  own  master,  and  he  would  have 
the  wnole  world,  and  a  pair  of  new  skates. 

Grerda  kissed  his  cheeks,  and  they  grew  quite 
blooming;  she  kissed  his  eyes,  and  they  shone 
like  her  own;  she  kissed  his  hands  and  feet, 
and  he  was  again  well  and  merry.  The  Snow- 
Queen  might  come  back  as  soon  as  she  liked; 
there  stood  his  release  written  in  the  shining 
masses  of  ice. 

They  took  each  other  by  the  hand,  and 
wandered  forth  out  of  the  large  hall;  they 
talked  of  their  old  grandmother,  and  of  the 
roses  upon  the  roof ;  and  wherever  they  went, 
the  winds  were  quiet,  and  the  sun  burst  forth. 
And  when  they  reached  the  bush  with  the  red 
berries,  they  found  the  Reindeer  waiting  for 
them.  He  had  brought  another,  a  young  one, 
with  him,  whose  udder  was  filled  with  milk,  which 
he  gave  to  the  little  ones,  and  kissed  their  lips. 
So  they  carried  Kay  and  Gerda,  —  first  to  the 
Finland  woman,  where  they  warmed  themselves 
in  the  warm  room,  and  learned  what  they  were 
to  do  on  their  journey  home;  and  then  they 
went  to  the  Lapland  woman,  who  made  some 
new  clothes  for  them  and  repaired  their  sleds. 

The  Reindeer  and  the  young  deer  leaped 
along  beside  them,  and  went  with  them  to  the 
edge  of  the  country.  Here  the  first  green 
leaves  peeped  forth ;  here  Kay  and  Gerda  took 


146  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

leave  of  the  Reindeer  and  the  Lapland  woman, 
"  Farewell !  farewell !  "  said  they  all.  An  1  the 
first  little  birds  began  to  twitter;  the  woods 
had  green  buds ;  and  out  of  the  wood  came, 
tiding  on  a  line  horse  which  Gerda  knew  (it 
was  one  of  the  horses  in  the  golden  carriage), 
a  young  damsel  with  a  bright  red  cap  on  her 
head,  and  armed  with  pistols.  It  wfis  the  Uttle 
Robber-maiden,  who  was  tired  of  being  at  home, 
and  had  set  out  to  make  a  journey  to  the  north ; 
and  afterwards  somewhere  else,  if  that  did  not 
please  her.  She  knew  Gerda  at  once,  and 
Gerda  knew  her  too.     It  was  a  joyful  meeting. 

"  You  are  a  fine  fellow  for  tramping  about," 
said  she  to  Uttle  Kay  ;  "  I  should  like  to  know 
if  you  deserve  that  one  should  run  from  one 
end  of  the  world  to  the  other  for  vour  sake !  " 

But  Gerda  patted  her  on  the  cheek,  and 
asked  after  the  Prince  and  Princess. 

"  They  are  gone  abroad,"  said  the  other. 

"  But  the  Crow  ?  "  asked  little  Gerda. 

**  Oh !  the  Crow  is  dead,"  she  answered 
^  His  tame  sweetheart  is  a  widow,  and  wears 
a  bit  of  black  worsted  round  her  leg  ;  she  weeps 
and  weeps,  but  it 's  all  mere  talk  and  stuff  I 
Now  tell  me  what  you  've  been  doing,  and  how 
you  made  out  to  catch  him." 

And  Gerda  and  Kay  both  told  her  their 
story. 


THE  SNOW-QUEEN,  147 

And  "  Snip-saap-snurre-basselurre,"  said  the 
Robber-maiden ;  and  she  took  the  hands  of 
each,  and  said  that  if  she  should  some  day  pass 
through  the  town  where  they  lived,  she  would 
come  and  visit  them ;  and  then  away  she  rode 
into  the  wide  world. 

But  Kay  and  Gerda  went  hand  in  hand,  and 
as  they  went  it  was  lovely  spring  weather,  with 
flowers  and  green  leaves.  The  church-bells  rang, 
and  the  children  knew  the  high  towers,  and  the 
large  town ;  it  was  that  in  which  they  lived ;  and 
they  went  in,  and  came  to  the  door  of  grand- 
mother's house,  and  up  the  stairs,  into  the  room, 
where  everything  stood  as  it  stood  before. 

The  clock  said  "  Tick !  tack  ! "  and  the  hands 
moved  round ;  but  as  they  went  through  the 
doorway  they  saw  that  they  were  now  grown  up. 
The  roses  on  the  roof  hung  blooming  in  at  the 
open  window ;  there  stood  the  little  children's 
chairs,  and  Kay  and  Gerda  sat  down  on  them, 
each  on  his  own,  holding  each  other  by  the 
hand ;  they  both  had  forgotten  as  a  dream  the 
cold,  empty  splendor  of  the  Snow-Queen. 

The  grandmother  sat  in  God's  bright  sunshine, 
and  read  aloud  from  the  Bible :  "  Except  ye  be- 
come as  little  children,  ye  cannot  enter  the  king- 
dom of  heaven." 

And  Kay  and  Gerda  looked  in  each  other's 
eyes,  and  all  at  once  they  understood  the  old 
hymn :  — 


148  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIEi>. 

"  The  rose  iu  the  valley  is  blooming  so  sweet, 
The  Child  Jesus  is  there  the  children  to  greet.' 

There  sat  the  two  grown-up  persons ;  grown* 
up,  and  yet  children;  children  in  heart:  and 
it  was  summer-time ;  warm,  happy  summer  I 


THE  FLAX- 

!  The  Flax  stood  in  blossom ;  it  had  pretty  little 
blue  flowers,  dainty  as  the  wings  of  a  moth  and 
even  more  soft.  The  sun  shone  on  the  Flax, 
and  the  rain  clouds  dropped  water  on  it,  and 
this  was  just  as  good  for  it  as  it  is  for  little 
children  to  be  washed,  and  then  get  a  hiss  from 
their  mother;  they  become  much  prettier  for 
that,  and  so  did  the  Flax. 

"  Folks  say  that  I  stand  uncommonly  well," 
said  the  Flax,  "  and  that  I  am  so  fine  and  long, 
they  will  make  a  capital  piece  of  linen  out  of  me. 
How  happy  I  am !  I  'm  certainly  the  happiest 
of  beings.  How  well  off  I  am  !  And  I  may 
come  to  something !  How  the  sunshine  glad- 
dens, and  the  rain  tastes  good  and  refreshes  me  I 
I  'm  wonderfully  happy ;  I  'm  the  happiest  of 
beings." 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes  !  "  said  the  Fence-post.     "  You 
don't  know  the  world,  but  we  do,  for  we  have 
knots  in  us ; "  and  then  it  creaked  out  mourn 
fuUy,- 

**  Snip-snap-snurre, 
Bassellure  I 
The  song  is  done." 


150  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

^'  No  it  is  not  done,"  said  the  Flax,  "  the  rain 
does  me  good  ;  the  sun  will  shine  to-morrow.  I 
can  feel  how  I  'm  growing,  I  feel  that  I  have 
flowers !     I  'm  the  happiest  of  beings." 

But  one  day  the  people  came  and  took  the 
Flax  by  the  head  and  pulled  it  up  by  the  root. 
That  hurt ;  and  it  was  laid  in  water  as  if  it  was 
to  be  drowned,  and  then  put  on  the  fire  as  if  it 
were  going  to  be  roasted.     That  was  fearful. 

^'  One  can't  always  have  good  times,"  said  the 
Flax.  "  One  must  try  something  if  he  is  to  get 
to  know  something." 

But  bad  times  certainly  came.  The  Flax  was 
wet  and  roasted,  and  broken,  and  hackled, — 
yes  that  was  what  they  called  it.  It  was  put  on 
the  spinning-wheel  —  whirr !  whirr  !  whirr  !  — 
it  was  not  possible  to  collect  one's  thoughts. 

"  I  have  been  uncommonly  happy,"  it  thought 
in  all  its  pain.  "  One  must  be  glad  with  the 
good  one  has  enjoyed.  Glad  !  glad !  Oh !  " 
And  it  continued  to  say  that  when  it  was  put 
into  the  loom,  and  till  it  became  a  large,  beau- 
tiful piece  of  linen.  All  the  Flax,  to  the  last 
stalk,  was  used  in  making  one  piece. 

"  But  this  is  truly  wonderful !  I  never  should 
have  believed  it !  What  good  luck  I  have  !  The 
Pence-post  knows  all  about  it,  truly,  with  its  — 

*  Snip-snap-snurre, 
Bassellure  I ' 


THE  FLAX.  151 

The  song  is  not  done  by  any  means.  It  is  only 
just  begun.  It  is  wonderful.  If  I  've  suffered 
something,  I  've  been  made  into  something  1 
I  'm  the  happiest  of  aU  !  How  strong  and  fine 
I  am,  how  white  and  long  !  That  is  something 
more  than  being  only  a  stalk,  even  if  one  bears 
flowers.  One  is  not  taken  care  of,  and  gets 
water  only  when  it  rains.  Now  I  am  waited  on. 
The  maid  turns  me  over  every  morning,  and  I 
get  a  shower  bath  from  the  watering-pot  every 
evening.  Yes,  the  parson's  wife  has  even  made 
a  speech  about  me,  and  says  I  'm  the  best  piece 
in  the  whole  parish.  I  cannot  possibly  be  hap- 
pier!" 

Now  the  Linen  was  taken  into  the  house,  and 
put  under  the  scissors :  how  they  cut  and  tore 
it ;  and  then  pricked  it  with  needles  before  they 
made  anything  of  it !  That  was  not  pleasant ; 
but  it  was  made  into  twelve  napkins. 

"  Just  look  !  Now  something  has  really  been 
made  of  me !  So ;  that  was  my  fate.  Well, 
that  is  a  blessing.  Now  I  shall  be  of  some  use 
in  the  world,  and  that 's  right,  and  that 's  a  true 
pleasure !  We  've  been  made  into  twelve  things, 
but  yet  we  're  all  one  and  the  same  ;  we  're  just 
a  dozen  :  how  charming  that  is  !  " 

Years  rolled  on,  and  then  they  could  hold  ta« 
gether  no  longer. 

"  It  must  be  over  one  day,"  said  each  piece. 


152  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

"I  would  gladly  have  held  together  a  littU 
longer,  but  one  must  not  ask  for  what  cannot 
be." 

And  so  they  were  torn  into  pieces  and  frag- 
ments. They  thought  it  was  all  over  now,  foi 
they  were  hacked  to  shreds,  and  softened,  and 
boiled  ;  they  did  not  know  what  it  all  was  ;  and 
then  they  became  beautiful  white  paper. 

"  Now,  that  is  a  surprise,  and  a  glorious  sur- 
prise !  "  said  the  Paper.  "  Now  I  'm  finer  than 
before,  and  I  shall  be  written  on  :  what  can  they 
not  write  on  me  !  this  is  the  best  luck  of  all." 

And  really  the  most  beautiful  stories  and 
verses  were  written  upon  it.  And  the  people 
heard  what  was  upon  it;  it  was  so  true  and 
good,  that  it  made  people  truer  and  better: 
there  was  a  great  blessing  in  the  words  that  were 
on  this  Paper. 

"  That  is  more  than  I  ever  dreamed  of  when 
I  was  a  little  blue  flower  in  the  fields.  How 
could  I  fancy  that  I  should  ever  spread  joy  and 
knowledge  among  men  ?  I  can't  yet  understand 
it  myself,  but  it  really  is  so.  Our  Lord  knows 
that  I  have  done  nothing  at  all  but  what  I  haJ 
to  do  after  my  poor  fashion,  to  keep  alive.  And 
yet  I  have  been  carried  from  one  joy  and  honor 
to  another.  Each  time  when  I  think  ^  the  song 
is  done,'  it  begins  again  in  a  higher  and  better 
way.     Now  I  shall  set  out  on  my  journey.     1 


THE  FLAX.  153 

shall  be  sent  through  the  world,  so  that  all  peo- 
ple may  read  me.  That  is  most  likely.  Once  I 
had  blue  flowers ;  now  I  have  for  every  flower  » 
charming  thought.    I  'm  the  happiest  of  beings." 

But  the  Paper  was  not  sent  on  its  travels,  — 
it  was  sent  to  the  printer,  and  everything  that 
was  written  upon  it  was  set  up  in  type  for  a 
book ;  yes,  for  many  hundreds  of  books,  for  in 
this  way  a  very  far  greater  number  could  get 
gain  and  gladness  than  if  the  one  paper  on 
which  it  was  written  had  run  about  the  world,  to 
be  worn  out  before  it  had  got  half  way. 

"Yes,  that  is  certainly  the  wisest  way," 
thought  the  Writing-paper.  "  I  really  did  not 
think  of  that.  I  shall  stay  at  home,  and  be  held 
in  honor,  just  like  an  old  grandfather ;  it  is  I;, 
that  am  written  on  ;  the  words  flowed  into  me 
from  the  pen.  The  books  come  from  me.  Now 
something  can  really  come  of  all  this.  I  am  the 
happiest  of  all." 

Then  the  Paper  was  tied  together  in  a  bundle, 
and  laid  on  the  shelf. 

^'  It  is  good  to  rest  after  work,"  said  the  Paper. 
^  It  is  very  well  to  collect  one's  thoughts,  and  to 
come  to  some  notion  of  what  is  in  one.  Now 
I  'm  able  for  the  first  time  to  think  of  what  is  in 
me  ;  and  to  know  one's  self,  that  is  true  progress. 
I  wonder  what  will  be  done  with  me  now? 
Something  will  happen  to  carry  me  further ;  I  'm 
always  going  further." 


154  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

Now,  one  day  all  the  Paper  was  taken  out  and 
laid  by  on  the  hearth ;  it  was  to  be  burned,  for 
it  was  not  to  be  sold  to  the  grocer,  to  be  put 
round  butter  and  brown  sugar.  And  all  the 
children  in  the  house  stood  round  about,  for 
they  wanted  to  see  the  Paper  blaze  up,  and  after- 
wards to  see  the  red  sparks  among  the  ashes, 
which  would  run  away  and  go  out,  one  after  the 
other,  in  such  haste  —  they  were  children  com- 
ing out  of  school,  and  the  last  spark  of  all  was 
the  schoolmaster.  After  they  thought  he  had 
gone,  then  he  would  come  along  after  all  the 
others. 

All  the  old  Paper  lay  in  a  bundle  upon  the 
fire.  Whewl  how  it  flew  up  in  a  flame. 
"  Whew !  "  it  said,  and  in  a  twinklingj  it  was  all 
on  fire.  The  flame  went  up  into  the  air  so  high, 
higher  than  the  Flax  had  ever  been  able  to  lift 
its  little  blue  flowers,  and  gleamed  as  the  white 
Linen  had  never  been  able  to  gleam.  All  the 
written  letters  turned  for  a  moment  quite  red, 
and  all  the  words  and  thoughts  turned  to  flame. 

"  Now  I  'm  mounting  straight  up  to  the  sun," 
said  a  voice  in  the  flame;  and  it  was  as  if  a 
thousand  voices  said  this  in  one  voice ;  and  the 
flames  mounted  up  through  the  chimney  and  out 
at  the  top,  and  more  dehcate  than  the  flames, 
quite  unseen  by  human  eyes,  little  tiny  beings 
floated  there,  as  many  as  there  had  been  bios* 


THE  FLAX,  155 

soms  on  the  flax.  They  were  lighter  even  than 
the  flame  from  which  they  were  born  ;  and  when 
the  flame  was  out,  and  nothing  remained  of  the 
Paper  but  black  ashes,  they  danced  over  it  once 
more,  and  where  they  moved,  they  left  foot« 
prints  —  these  were  the  little  red  sparks.  The 
children  came  out  of  school,  and  the  school- 
master was  the  last  of  all.  That  was  fun  !  and 
the  children  stood  and  sang  over  the  dead 
ashes,  — 

**  Snip-snap-snurre, 
Bassellure  ! 
The  song  is  done  ! " 

But  the  unseen  beings  each  said,  — 

"  The  song  is  never  done,  that  is  best  of  all. 

I  know  it,  and  therefore  I  am  the  happiest  of 

all." 

But  the  children  could  neither  hear  that  nor 

understand  it ;  nor  ought  they,  for  childreai  must 

not  know  everything. 


1 


THE  NIGHTINGALE. 
L 

THE   REAL   NIGHTINGALE. 

In  China,  you  must  know,  the  Emperor  is  a 
Chinaman,  and  all  whom  he  has  about  him  are 
Chinamen  too.  It  happened  a  good  many  years 
ago,  but  that 's  just  why  it 's  worth  while  to 
hear  the  story,  before  it  is  forgotten. 

The  Emperor's  palace  was  the  most  splendid 
in  the  world  ;  it  was  made  wholly  of  fine  porce- 
lain, very  costly,  but  so  brittle  and  so  hard  to 
handle  that  one  had  to  take  care  how  one 
touched  it.  In  the  garden  were  to  be  seen  the 
most  wonderful  flowers,  and  to  the  prettiest  of 
them  silver  bells  were  tied,  which  tinkled,  so 
that  nobody  should  pass  by  without  noticing  the 
flowers. 

Yes,  everything  in  the  Emperor's  garden  was 
nicely  set  out,  and  it  reached  so  far  that  the 
gardener  himself  did  not  know  where  the  end 
was.  If  a  man  went  on  and  on,  he  came  into  a 
glorious  forest  with  high  trees  and  deep  lakes. 


THE  NIGHTINGALE,  157 

• 

The  wood  went  straight  down  to  the  sea,  which 
was  blue  and  deep ;  great  ships  could  sail  to  and 
fro  beneath  the  branches  of  the  trees;  and  in 
the  trees  lived  a  Nightingale,  which  sang  so 
finely  that  even  the  poor  Fisherman,  who  had 
many  other  things  to  do,  stopped  still  and  lis- 
tened, when  he  had  gone  out  at  night  to  throw 
out  his  nets,  and  heard  the  Nightingale. 

"  How  beautiful  that  is  ! "  he  said ;  but  he 
had  to  attend  to  his  work,  and  so  he  forgot  the 
bird.  But  the  next  night,  when  the  bird  sang 
again,  and  the  Fisherman  heard  it,  he  said  as 
before,  "  How  beautiful  that  is !  " 

From  all  the  countries  of  the  world  travelers 
came  to  the  city  of  the  Emperor  and  admired  it, 
and  the  palace,  and  the  garden,  but  when  they 
heard  the  Nightingale,  they  all  said,  "  That  is 
the  best  of  aU!" 

And  the  travelers  told  of  it  when  they  came 
home ;  and  the  learned  men  wrote  many  books 
about  the  town,  the  palace,  and  the  garden.  But 
they  did  not  forget  the  Nightingale ;  that  was 
spoken  of  most  of  all ;  and  all  those  who  were  ^ 
poets  wrote  great  poems  about  the  Nightingale*, 
in  the  wood  by  the  deep  lake. 

The  books  went  all  over  the  world,  and  a 
few  of  them  once  came  to  the  Emperor.  He  sat 
in  his  golden  chair,  and  read,  and  read :  every 
moment  he  nodded  his  head,  for  it  pleased  him 


158  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

to  hear  the  fine  things  that  were  said  about  the 
city,  the  palace,  and  the  garden.  "  But  the 
Nightingale  is  the  best  of  all !  "  —  it  stood  writ- 
ten there. 

"What's  that?"  exclaimed  the  Emperor. 
"The  Nightingale?  I  don't  know  that  at  all !  Is 
there  such  a  bird  in  my  empire,  and  in  my  gar- 
den to  boot  ?  I  've  never  heard  of  that.  One 
has  to  read  about  such  things." 

Hereupon  he  called  his  CavaUer,  who  was  so 
grand  that  if  any  one  lower  in  rank  than  he 
dared  to  speak  to  him,  or  to  ask  him  any  ques- 
tion, he  answered  nothing  but  "  P  !  "  —  and  that 
meant  nothing. 

"  There  is  said  to  be  a  strange  bird  here  called 
a  Nightingale  !  "  said  the  Emperor.  "  They  say 
it  is  the  best  thing  in  all  my  great  empire.  Why 
has  no  one  ever  told  me  anything  about  it  ?  " 

"I  have  never  heard  it  named,"  repUed  the 
CavaHer.  "It  has  never  been  presented  at 
court." 

"I  command  that  it  shall  come  here  this 
evening,  and  sing  before  me,"  said  the  Emperor. 
'*  All  the  world  knows  what  I  have,  and  I  do  not 
know  it  myself  !  " 

"  I  have  never  heard  it  mentioned,"  said 
the  Cavalier.  "  I  will  seek  for  it.  I  will  find 
it." 

But  where  was  he  to  be  found?     The  Cavar 


THE  NIGHTINGALE.  159 

lier  ran  up  and  down  all  the  stairs,  through  halls 
and  passages,  but  no  one  among  all  those  whom 
he  met  had  heard  talk  of  the  Nightingale.  And 
the  CavaHer  ran  back  to  the  Emperor,  and  said 
that  it  must  be  a  fable  made  up  by  those  who 
write  books. 

"  Your  Imperial  Majesty  must  not  believe 
what  is  written.  It  is  fiction,  and  something 
that  they  call  the  black  art." 

"  But  the  book  in  which  I  read  this,"  said  the 
Emperor,  "was  sent  to  me  by  the  high  and 
mighty  Emperor  of  Japan,  and  so  it  cannot  be  a 
falsehood.  I  will  hear  the  Nightingale  !  It  must 
be  here  this  evening !  It  has  my  high  favor ; 
and  if  it  does  not  come,  all  the  court  shall  be 
trampled  upon  after  the  coiu-t  has  supped  !  " 

"  Tsing-pe  !  "  said  the  CavaHer ;  and  again  he 
ran  up  and  down  all  the  stairs,  and  through  all 
the  halls  and  passages,  and  half  the  court  ran 
with  him,  for  the  courtiers  did  not  Uke  beinsr 
trampled  upon.  There  was  a  great  inquiry  after 
the  wonderful  Nightingale,  which  all  the  world 
knew,  but  not  the  people  at  court. 

At  last  they  met  with  a  poor  httle  girl  in  the 
kitchen.     She  said,  — 

"  The  Nightingale  ?  I  know  it  well ;  yes,  how 
it  can  sing !  Every  evening  I  get  leave  to  carry 
my  poor  sick  mother  the  scraps  from  the  table. 
She  lives  down  by  the  beach,  and  when  I  get 


160  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

back  and  am  tired,  and  rest  in  the  wood,  then  I 
hear  the  Nightingale  sing.  And  then  the  tears 
come  into  my  eyes,  and  it  is  just  as  if  my 
mother  kissed  me  !  " 

"Little  Kitchen-girl,"  said  the  Cavalier,  «I 
will  get  you  a  fixed  place  in  the  kitchen,  with 
leave  to  see  the  Emperor  dine,  if  you  will  lead 
us  to  the  Nightingale,  for  it  is  promised  for  this 
evening." 

So  they  all  went  out  into  the  wood  where  the 
Nightingale  was  wont  to  sing ;  half  the  court 
went  out.  When  they  were  on  the  way  a  cow 
began  to  low. 

"  Oh ! "  cried  the  court  pages,  "  now  we  have 
it !  That  shows  a  great  power  in  so  small  a 
creature  !    I  have  certainly  heard  it  before." 

"  No,  those  are  cows  mooing !  "  said  the  Httle 
Kitchen  -  girl.  "  We  are  a  long  way  from  the 
place  yet." 

Now  the  frogs  began  to  croak  in  the  marsh. 

"  Glorious  !  "  said  the  Chinese  Court  Preacher. 
**Now  I  hear  it  —  it  sounds  just  like  little 
church  belis." 

"  No,  those  are  frogs  !  "  said  the  little  Kitch- 
en-maid. "  But  now  I  think  we  shall  soon  hear 
it." 

And  then  the  Nightingale  began  to  sing. 

"  That  is  it !  "  exclaimed  the  little  Girl.  "  Lis- 
ten,  listen  !  and  yonder  it  sits." 


THE  NIGHTINGALE.  161 

And  she  pointed  to  a  little  gray  bird  up  in 
the  boughs. 

"  Is  it  possible  ? "  cried  the  Cavalier.  "  I 
should  never  have  thought  it  looked  like  that  I 
How  simple  it  looks!  It  must  certainly  have 
lost  its  color  at  seeing  so  many  famous  people 
around." 

"  Little  Nightingale  !  "  called  the  little  Kitch- 
en-maid, quite  loudly,  "  our  gracious  Emperor 
wishes  you  to  sing  before  him." 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure ! "  replied  the 
Nightingale,  and  sang  so  that  it  was  a  joy  to 
hear  it. 

"  It  sounds  just  like  glass  bells ! "  said  the 
CavaUer.  "And  look  at  its  little  throat,  how 
it 's  working !  It 's  wonderful  that  we  should 
never  have  heard  it  before.  That  bird  will  be 
a  great  success  at  court." 

"Shall  I  sing  once  more  before  the  Em- 
peror ?  "  asked  the  Nightingale,  for  it  thought 
the  Emperor  was  present. 

"My  excellent  little  Nightingale,"  said  the 
Cavalier,  "  I  have  great  pleasure  in  inviting  you 
to  a  court  festival  this  evening,  when  you  shall 
charm  his  Imperial  Majesty  with  your  beautiful 
singing." 

"  My  song  sounds  best  in  the  greenwood !  " 
rephed  the  Nightingale  ;  still  it  came  willingly 
when  it  heard  what  the  Emperor  wished. 


162  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

In  the  palace  there  was  a  great  brushing  up. 
The  walls  and  the  floor,  which  were  of  porcelain, 
shone  with  many  thousand  golden  lamps.  The 
most  glorious  flowers,  which  could  ring  clearly^ 
'had  been  placed  in  the  halls.  There  was  a 
running  to  and  fro,  and  a  draught  of  air,  but 
all  the  bells  rang  so  exactly  together  that  one 
could  not  hear  any  noise. 

In  the  midst  of  the  great  hall,  where  the 
Emperor  sat,  a  golden  perch  had  been  placed, 
on  which  the  Nightingale  was  to  sit.  The 
whole  court  was  there,  and  the  little  Cook-maid 
had  leave  to  stand  behind  the  door,  as  she  had 
now  received  the  title  of  a  real  cook-maid.  All 
were  in  full  dress,  and  all  looked  at  the  little 
gray  bird,  to  which  the  Emperor  nodded. 

And  the  Nightingale  sang  so  gloriously  that 
the  tears  came  into  the  Emperor's  eyes,  and 
the  tears  ran  down  over  his  cheeks;  and  then 
the  Nightingale  sang  still  more  sweetly ;  that 
went  straight  to  the  heart.  The  Emperor  was 
happy,  and  he  said  the  Nightingale  should  have 
his  golden  slipper  to  wear  round  its  neck.  But 
the  Nightingale  thanked  him,  it  had  already  got 
reward  enough. 

"  I  have  seen  tears  in  the  Emperor's  eyes  — - 
that  is  the  real  treasure  to  me.  An  emperor's 
tears  have  a  strange  power.  I  am  paid  enough !  *' 
Then  it  sang  regain  with  a  sweet,  glorious  voice. 


THE  NIGHTINGALE,  163 

**  That 's  the  most  lovely  way  of  making  love 
T  ever  saw  1 "  said  the  ladies  who  stood  round 
about,  and  then  they  took  water  in  their  mouths 
to  gurgle  when  any  one  spoke  to  them.  They 
thought  they  should  be  nightingales  too.  And 
the  lackeys  and  maids  let  it  be  known  that  they 
were  pleased  too ;  and  that  was  saying  a  good 
deal,  for  they  are  the  hardest  of  all  to  please. 
In  short,  the  Nightingale  made  a  real  hit. 

It  was  now  to  remain  at  court,  to  have  its  own 
cage,  with  freedom  to  go  out  twice  every  day 
and  once  at  night.  It  had  twelve  servants,  and 
they  all  had  a  silken  string  tied  to  the  bird's  leg 
which  they  held  very  tight.  There  was  really 
no  pleasure  in  going  out. 

The  whole  city  spoke  of  the  wonderful  bird, 
and  when  two  people  met,  one  said  nothing  but 
"  Nightin,"  and  the  other  said  "  gale ;  "  and 
then  they  sighed,  and  understood  one  another. 
Eleven  storekeepers'  children  were  named  after 
the  bird,  but  not  one  of  them  could  sing  a  notei. 


161  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

TL 

THE  TOY  NIGHTINGALE. 

One  day  a  large  parcel  came  to  the  Emperor^ 
on  which  was  written  "  The  Nightingale." 

"  Here  we  have  a  new  book  about  this  famous ' 
bird/'  said  the  Emperor. 

But  it  was  not  a  book ;  it  was  a  little  work 
of  art,  that  lay  in  a  box,  a  toy  nightingale, 
which  was  to  sing  like  a  live  one,  but  it  was 
all  covered  with  diamonds,  rubies,  and  sap- 
phires. So  soon  as  the  toy  bird  was  wound  up, 
he  could  sing  one  of  the  pieces  that  the  real 
one  sang,  and  then  his  tail  moved  up  and 
down,  and  shone  with  silver  and  gold.  Bound 
his  neck  hung  a  little  ribbon,  and  on  that  was 
written,  "  The  Emperor  of  Japan's  Nightingale 
is  poor  beside  that  of  the  Emperor  in  China." 

"  That  is  capital !  "  said  they  all,  and  he  who 
had  brought  the  toy  bird  at  once  got  the  title, 
Imperial  Head-Nightingale-B  ringer. 

"  Now  they  must  sing  together  ;  what  a  duet 
that  will  be!"    . 

And  so  they  had  to  sing  together;  but  it 
did  not  sound  very  well,  for  the  real  Nightin- 
gale sang  in  its  own  way,  and  the  toy  bird  sang 
waltzes. 


THE  NIGHTINGALE.  165 

"That's  not  its  fault/'  said  the  Play-master; 
^  it 's  quite  perfect,  and  very  much  in  my  style." 

Now  the  toy  bird  was  to  sing  alone.  It 
made  just  as  much  of  a  hit  as  the  real  one,  and 
then  it  was  so  much  more  fine  to  look  at —  it 
shone  hke  bracelets  and  breastpins. 

Three-and-thirty  times  over  did  it  sing  the 
same  piece,  and  yet  was  not  tired.  The  people 
would  gladly  have  heard  it  again,  but  the  Em- 
peror said  that  the  living  Nightingale  ought  to 
sing  a  Kttle  something.  But  where  was  it  ?  No 
one  had  noticed  that  it  had  flown  away,  out  of 
the  open  window,  back  to  its  green  woods. 

"  But  what  is  become  of  it  ?  "  asked  the  Em- 
peror. 

Then  all  the  courtiers  scolded,  and  thought 
the  Nightingale  was  a  very  thankless  creature. 

"  We  have  the  best  bird,  after  all,"  said 
they. 

And  so  the  toy  bird  had  to  sing  again,  and 
this  was  the  thirty-fourth  time  they  had  Hstened 
to  the  same  piece.  For  all  that,  they  did  not  know 
it  quite  by  heart,  for  it  was*  so  very  difficult.  And 
the  Play-master  praised  the  bird  highly ;  yes,  he 
declared  that  it  was  better  than  the  real  Nights 
ingale,  not  only  in  its  feathers  and  its  many 
beautiful  diamonds,  but  inside  as  well. 

"For  you  see,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  and 
above  all,  your  Imperial  Majesty,  with  the  real 


166  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

Nightingale  one  can  never  make  sure  what  is 
coming,  but  in  this  toy  bird  everything  is 
settled.  It  is  just  so,  and  not  any  other  way. 
One  can  explain  it ;  one  can  open  it  and  can 
show  how  much  thought  went  to  making  it, 
where  the  waltzes  come  from,  how  they  go,  and 
how  one  follows  another." 

"  Those  are  quite  our  own  ideas,"  they  all 
said.  And  the  Play-master  got  leave  to  show 
the  bird  to  the  people  on  the  next  Sunday. 
The  people  were  to  hear  it  sing  too,  said  the  Em- 
peror ;  and  they  did  hear  it,  and  were  as  much 
pleased  as  if  they  had  all  had  tea,  for  that's 
quite  the  Chinese  fashion  ;  and  they  all  said, 
"  Oh !  "  and  held  their  forefingers  up  in  the  air 
and  nodded.  But  the  poor  Fisherman,  who 
had  heard  the  real  Nightingale,  said,  — 

"  It  sounds  pretty  enough,  and  it 's  a  little 
like,  but  there 's  something  wanting,  though  I 
know  not  what !  " 

The  real  Nightingale  was  exiled  from  the  land 
and  empire. 

The  toy  bird  had  its  place  on  a  silken  cushioL 
close  to  the  Emperor's  bed;  all  the  presents 
it  had  received,  gold  and  precious  stones,  were 
ranged  about  it ;  in  title  it  had  come  to  be  the 
High  Imperial  After-Dinner-Singer,  and  in  rank, 
it  was  number  one  on  the  left  hand ;  for  the  Em- 
peror reckoned  that  side  the  most  important  on 


THE  NIGHTINGALK  Wi 

which  the  heart  is  placed,  and  even  in  an  em 
peror  the  heart  is  on  the  left  side ;  and  the  Play* 
master  wrote  a  work  of  five-and-twenty  volumeb 
about  the  toy  bird;  it  was  so  learned  and  so 
tong,  full  of  the  most  difficult  Chinese  words; 
that  all  the  people  said  they  had  read  it,  and 
understood  it,  or  else  they  would  have  been 
thought  stupid,  and  would  have  had  their  bodies 
trampled  on. 

So  a  whole  year  went  by.  The  Emperor,  the 
tjourt,  and  all  the  other  Chinese  knew  every 
little  twitter  in  the  toy  bird's  song  by  heart. 
But  just  for  that  reason  it  pleased  them  best 
—  they  could  sing  with  it  themselves,  and  they 
did  so.  The  street  boy  sang,  "  Tsi-tsi-tsi-glug- 
glug !  "  and  the  Emperor  himself  sang  it  too. 
Yes,  that  was  certainly  famous. 

But  one  evening,  when  the  toy  bird  was 
singing  its  best,  and  the  Emperor  lay  in  bed 
and  heard  it,  something  inside  the  bird  said, 
*^  Svup  !  "  Something  cracked.  "  Whir-r-r !  " 
All  the  wheels  ran  round,  and  then  the  music 
stopped. 

The  Emperor  jumped  at  once  out  of  bed,  and 
had  his  own  doctor  called ;  but  what  could  he 
do?  Then  they  sent  for  a  watchmaker,  and 
after  a  good  deal  of  talking  and  looking,  he  got 
the  bird  into  some  sort  of  order,  but  he  said 
chat  it  must  be  looked  after  a  good  deal,  for  the 


168  BANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 


^ 


barrels  were  worn,  and  he  could  not  put  new 
ones  in  in  such  a  manner  that  the  music  would 
go.  There  was  a  great  to-do  ;  only  once  in  a 
year  did  they  dare  to  let  the  bird  sing,  and  thai 
was  almost  too  much.  But  then  the  Play-mastm" 
made  a  little  speech,  full  of  heavy  words,  and 
said  this  was  just  as  good  as  before  —  and  sc 
of  course  it  was  as  good  as  before. 


m. 

THE   REAL   NIGHTINGALE   AGAIN. 

Five  years  had  gone  by,  and  a  real  grief  came 
upon  the  whole  nation.  The  Chinese  were  really 
fond  of  their  Emperor,  and  now  he  was  sick, 
and  could  not,  it  was  said,  live  much  longer. 
Already  a  new  Emperor  had  been  chosen,  and 
the  people  stood  out  in  the  street  and  asked  the 
Cavalier  how  their  old  Emperor  did. 

"  P  !  "  said  he,  and  shook  his  head. 

Cold  and  pale  lay  the  Emperor  in  his  great^ 
gorgeous  bed;  the  whole  court  thought  him 
dead,  and  each  one  ran  to  pay  respect  to  th( 
new  ruler.  The  chamberlains  ran  out  to  talk 
it  over,  and  the  ladies'-maids  had  a  great  coffee 
party.  All  about,  in  all  the  halls  and  passages, 
doth  had  been  laid  down  so  that  ro  one  could 


THE  NIGHTINGALE.  169 

be  heard  go  by,  and  therefore  it  was  quiet 
there,  quite  quiet.  But  the  Emperor  was  not 
dead  yet :  stiff  and  pale  he  lay  on  the  gorgeous 
bed  with  the  long  velvet  curtains  and  the  heav] 
gold  tassels ;  high  up,  a  window  stood  open, 
and  the  moon  shone  in  upon  the  Emperor  and 
the  toy  bird. 

The  poor  Emperor  could  scarcely  breathe; 
it  was  just  as  if  something  lay  upon  his  breast : 
he  opened  his  eyes,  and  then  he  saw  that  it 
was  Death  who  sat  upon  his  breast,  and  had 
put  on  his  golden  crown,  and  held  in  one  hand 
the  Emperor's  sword,  and  in  the  other  his 
beautiful  banner.  And  all  around,  from  among 
the  folds  of  the  splendid  velvet  curtains,  strange 
heads  peered  forth ;  a  few  very  ugly,  the  rest 
quite  lovely  and  mild.  These  were  all  the  Em- 
peror's bad  and  good  deeds,  that  stood  before 
him  now  that  Death  sat  upon  his  heart. 

"  Do  you  remember  this  ?  "  whispered  one  to 
the  other.  "  Do  you  remember  that  ? "  and 
then  they  told  him  so  much  that  the  sweat  ran 
from  his  forehead. 

"  I  did  not  know  that ! "  said  the  Emperor. 
"  Music  !  music  !  the  great  Chinese  drum  !  "  he 
cried,  "  so  that  I  need  not  hear  all  they  say ! " 

And  they  kept  on,  and  Death  nodded  like  a 
Chinaman  to  all  they  said. 

"  Music !  music  1 "  cried  the  Emperor.     "  You 


170  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

little  precious  golden  bird,  sing,  sing !  I  have 
given  you  gold  and  costly  presents;  I  have 
even  hung  my  golden  slipper  around  your  neck 
—  sing  now,  sing  !  " 

But  the  bird  stood  still ;  no  one  was  there  to 
wind  him  up,  and  he  could  not  sing  without 
that ;  but  Death  kept  on  staring  at  the  Em? 
peror  with  his  great  hollow  eyes,  and  it  was 
quiet,  fearfully  quiet. 

Then  there  sounded  close  by  the  window,  the 
most  lovely  song.  It  was  the  little  Uve  Night- 
ingale, that  sat  outside  on  a  spray.  It  had 
heard  of  the  Emperor's  need,  and  had  come  to 
sing  to  him  of  trust  and  hope.  And  as  it 
sang  the  spectres  grew  paler  and  paler;  the 
blood  ran  more  and  more  quickly  through  the 
Emperor's  weak  limbs ;  and  Death  himself  list- 
ened, and  said,  — 

"  Go  on,  little  Nightingale,  go  on !  " 

"  But  will  you  give  me  that  splendid  golden 
sword?  Will  you  give  me  that  rich  banner? 
'  Will  you  give  me  the  Emperor's  crown  ?  " 

And  Death  gave  up  each  of  these  treasures 
for  a  song.  And  the  Nightingale  sang  on  and 
on ;  it  sang  of  the  quiet  church-yard  where  the 
'  white  roses  grow,  where  the  elder-blossom  smells 
sweet,  and  where  the  fresh  grass  is  wet  with 
the  tears  of  mourners.  Then  Death  felt  a  long- 
ing to  see  his  garden,  and  floated  out  at  the 
window  in  the  form  of  a  cold,  white  mist. 


THE  NIGHTINGALE.  171     • 

*^  Thanks !  thanks  !  "  said  the  Emperor.  "  You 
heavenly  little  bird  !  I  know  you  well.  I  drove 
you  from  my  land  and  empii-e,  and  yet  you  have 
charmed  away  the  evil  faces  from  my  bed,  and 
driven  Death  from  my  heart !  How  can  I  pay 
you?" 

"  You  have  paid  me !  "  replied  the  Nightin- 
gale. "  I  drew  tears  from  your  eyes,  the  first 
time  1  sang  —  I  shall  never  forget  that.  Those 
are  the  jewels  that  make  a  singer's  heart  glad. 
But  now  sleep  and  grow  fresh  and  strong  again. 
I  will  sing  you  something." 

And  it  sang,  and  the  Emperor  fell  into  a 
sweet  sleep.  Ah  !  how  mild  and  refreshing  that 
sleep  was!  The  sun  shone  upon  him  through 
the  windows,  when  he  awoke  strong  and  sound  ; 
not  one  of  his  servants  had  yet  come  back,  for 
they  all  thought  he  was  dead ;  but  the  Nightin- 
gale still  sat  beside  him  and  sang. 

"  You  must  always  stay  with  me,"  said  th» 
Emperor.  ^'  You  shall  sing  as  you  please  ;  and 
I  '11  break  the  toy  bird  into  a  thousand  pieces." 

"  Not  so,"  replied  the  Nightingale.  "  It  did 
irell  as  long  as  it  could ;  keep  it  as  you  have 
done  till  now.  I  cannot  build  my  nest  in  the 
palace  to  dwell  in  it,  but  let  me  come  when  I 
feel  the  wish ;  then  I  will  sit  in  the  evening  on 
the  r.pray  yonder  by  the  window,  and  sing  for 
you,  so  that  you  may  be  glad  and  thoughtful 


•      172  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

at  once.  I  will  sing  of  those  who  are  happy 
and  of  those  who  suifer.  I  will  sing  of  good 
and  of  evil  that  remain  hidden  round  about  you. 
The  Uttle  singing  bird  flies  far  around,  to  the 
poor  fisherman,  to  the  peasant's  roof,  to  every 
one  who  dwells  far  away  from  yoii  and  from 
your  court.  I  love  your  heart  more  than  youi 
crown,  and  yet  the  crown  has  an  air  of  sanctity 
about  it.  I  will  come  and  sing  to  you  —  but 
one  thing  you  must  promise  me." 

"  Everything  ! "  said  the  Emperor ;  and  he 
stood  there  in  his  royal  robes,  which  he  had  put 
on  himself,  and  pressed  the  sword  which  was 
heavy  with  gold  to  his  heart. 

"One  thing  I  beg  of  you:  teU  no  one  that 
you  have  a  little  bird  who  tells  you  everything. 
Then  all  will  go  well." 

And  the  Nightingale  flew  away. 

The  servants  came  in  to  look  on  their  dead 
Emperor,  and  —  yes,  there  he  stood,  and  the 
Emperor  said,  "  Good-morning ! " 


WHAT  THE  MOON  SAW. 

f^  It  was  in  a  little  town  ;  I  saw  it  last  year, 
but  that  is  no  matter,  I  saw  it  so  clearly.  I  read 
about  it  to-night  in  a  paper,  but  that  was  not  at 
all  clear.  Down  in  an  inn  there  sat  a  man  who 
leads  a  dancing-bear  about.  He  was  eating  his 
supper,  and  the  bear  was  tied  outside  behind  the 
woodpile.  Poor  bear  !  he  never  did  any  harm, 
though  he  was  so  fierce  to  look  at. 

"  Up  in  the  attic  three  small  children  were 
playing  about  in  my  bright  light.  The  eldest 
was  just  six  years  old ;  the  youngest  was  not 
more  than  two  years  old.  Crack !  crack !  it 
came  up  the  stairs.     Who  could  it  be  ? 

"  The  door  flew  open  —  it  was  the  bear,  the 
big,  shaggy  bear.    He  was  tired  of  staying  down 
there  in  the  yard,  and  now  found  his  way  up* , 
stairs.     I  saw  it  all,"  said  the  Moon. 

"  The  children  were  so  scared  by  the  big,  | 
shaggy  beast,  they  crept,  each  into  a  corner. 
The  bear  found  them  all  three,  and  pushed  at 
them  with  his  nose,  but  he  did  not  hurt  them. 
*  He  must  be  a  big  dog,'  they  thought,  and  so 
they  stroked  him.     He  lay  down  on  the  floor; 


174  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  S2  OKIES. 

the  smallest  child  rolled  over  him  and  hid  his 
curly  head  in  the  bear's  thick,  black  fur. 

"  Then  the  eldest  boy  took  his  drum  and  beat 
it,  bang,  bang  !  Up  jumped  the  bear  upon  his 
hind  legs,  and  began  to  dance  —  that  was  fun  ! 
Each  boy  took  his  gun ;  the  bear  must  have  one 
too,  and  he  held  it  tight  as  a  soldier  holds  his. 

"  There 's  a  comrade  for  you,  my  lads !  Away 
they  marched,  one,  two  —  one,  two. 

**  The  door  opened  all  at  once,  and  the  mother 
of  the  children  came  in.  You  should  have  seen 
her  !  She  could  not  speak,  she  was  in  such  ter- 
ror ;  her  cheeks  were  as  white  as  a  sheet,  and 
her  eyes  were  fixed  with  horror.  But  the  young- 
est boy  laughed  and  nodded,  and  cried,  — 

"  ^  Mamma,  we  are  playing  soldier.' 

*^At  that  moment;  the  master  of  the  bear 
came  quickly  in." 


THE  TOAD. 

* 

The  well  was  deep,  and  so  the  rope  was  long; 
the  wheel  went  heavily  round,  before  one  could 
hoist  the  bucket  over  the  side  of  the  well.  The 
sun  could  never  see  its  face  in  the  water,  however 
clear  it  was  down  there ;  but  as  far  as  it  could 
shine  there  were  green  weeds  growing  between 
the  stones. 

A  family  of  the  toad  race  dwelt  here.  They 
had  come  from  abroad ;  indeed,  they  had  all 
come  plump  down  in  the  person  of  the  old  toad- 
mother,  who  was  still  alive.  The  green  frogs  who 
came  long  before  were  at  home  here,  and  swam 
about  in  the  water,  but  they  knew  their  cousins, 
and  called  them  the  "  well-guests."  These  quite 
made  up  their  minds  to  stay  here ;  they  found 
themselves  well  off  on  the  dry  land,  as  they 
called  the  wet  stones. 

Dame  Frog  had  once  traveled.  She  had  rid- 
den in  the  bucket  as  it  went  up ;  but  the  light  was 
too  much  for  her,  and  gave  her  a  pain  in  the  eyes ; 
luckily,  she  slipped  out  of  the  bucket.  She  fell 
with  a  frightful  splash  into  the  water,  and  was 
laid  up  for  three  days  with  the  backache.      She 


176  HANS  ANDERSEJSrS  STORIES. 

had  not  much  to  tell  about  the  upper  world,  but 
one  thing  she  did  know,  and  so  did  all  the  others 
now,  —  that  the  well  was  not  the  whole  world. 

Dame  Toad  might  have  told  them  a  thing 
or  two  more  but  she  never  answered  when  they 
asked  her  anything,  and  so  they  left  off  asking. 

"  Nasty,  ugly,  squat,  and  fat  she  is ! "  said 
the  young  Green  Frogs ;  "  and  her  brats  are 
getting  just  like  her." 

"  May  be  so  !  "  said  Dame  Toad;  "  but  one  of 
them  has  a  jewel  in  its  head,  or  else  I  have  it 
myself." 

The  Green  Frogs  listened  and  stared,  and  as 
they  did  not  like  to  hear  that,  they  made  faces 
and  went  to  the  bottom.  But  the  young  Toads 
stretched  their  hind-legs  out  of  sheer  pride. 

Each  of  them  thought  it  had  the  jewel,  and  so 
they  all  kept  their  heads  quite  still  ;  but  at  last 
they  began  to  ask  what  sort  of  a  thing  they  had 
to  be  proud  of,  and  just  what  a  jewel  was. 

"  It  is  something  so  splendid  and  so  precious," 
said  Dame  Toad,  "  that  I  cannot  describe  it ;  it 
is  something  that  one  wears  to  please  one's  self, 
and  that  others  fret  to  death  after.  But  don't 
ask  questions  ;  I  sha'n't  answer  them." 

"  Well,  I  have  not  got  the  jewel,"  said  the 
smallest  Toad,  which  was  as  ugly  as  ugly  could  be. 
"  How  should  I  have  anything  so  splendid  ?  and 
if  it  vexed  others,  why,  it  could  not  please  me. 


THE  TOAD,  177 

No ;  all  I  want  is  just  once  to  get  up  to  the 
well-side,  and  have  one  peep  out ;  that  would  be 
glorious !  " 

"  Better  stay  where  you  are/'  said  the  old 
one.  "  Here  you  are  at  home,  and  you  know  ' 
what  it 's  like.  Keep  clear  of  the  bucket,  or  it 
may  squash  you.  And  even  if  you  get  safe 
into  it,  you  may  fall  out  again,  and  it  is  not 
every  one  that  can  fall  so  luckily  as  I  did,  and 
keep  legs  and  eggs  all  safe  and  sound." 

"  Quack  1  "  said  the  little  one ;  and  that  means 
the  same  as  when  we  men  say  "  Alack  !  " 

It  did  so  long  to  get  up  to  the  well-side,  and 
look  out ;  it  felt  quite  a  yearning  after  the  green 
things  up  yonder.  And  so,  next  morning,  as  the 
bucket  was  going  up,  full  of  water,  when  it  hap- 
pened to  stop  for  a  moment  before  the  stone  where 
the  Toad  sat,  the  little  creature  fell  a-trembling, 
and  hopped  into  the  bucket.  It  sank  to  the  bot- 
tom of  the  water,  which  was  now  drawn  up  and 
poured  out. 

"  Pugh,  what  a  looking  thing !  "  said  the  man, 
when  he  saw  it ;  "  it  is  the  ugliest  I  have  ever 
seen."  He  kicked  with  his  wooden  shoe  at  the 
Toad,  which  was  near  being  crippled,  but  made 
out  to  get  into  the  middle  of  some  tall  nettles. 

It  saw  stalks  side  by  side  around  it,  and  it 
looked  upward  too.  The  sun  shone  on  the  leaves  ; 
one  could  see  through  them.     For  the  Toad  it 


178  HANS  ANDERSEJSrS  STORIES. 

was  the  same  as  it  is  for  us  men  when  we  come 
all  at  once  into  a  great  wood,  where  the  sun  is 
shining  between  leaves  and  branches. 

"It  is  much  prettier  here  than  down  in  the 
well !  One  might  well  stop  here  for  one's  whole 
life-time,"  said  the  little  Toad.  It  lay  there  one 
hour,  it  lay  there  two  hours.  "  Now  I  wonder 
what  there  is  outside ;  as  I  have  gone  so  far,  I 
may  as  well  go  further."  And  it  crawled  as  fast 
as  it  could  crawl,  till  it  came  out  into  the  road, 
where  the  sun  shone  on  it  and  the  dust  made  it 
white,  as  it  marched  across  the  high  road. 

"  This  is  something  like  being  on  dry  land," 
said  the  Toad.  "  I  am  getting  almost  too  much 
of  a  good  thing  ;  it  tickles  right  into  me." 

Now  it  came  to  a  ditch  ;  the  forget-me-not  grew 
here,  and  the  meadow-swieet ;  there  was  a  Uve 
hedge  of  white-thorn  and  elder-bushes,  and  f  our- 
o-clocks  crept  and  hung  about  it.  Here  were  fine 
colors  to  be  seen  !     And  yonder  flew  a  butterfly. 

The  Toad  thought  that  it  was  a  flower  which 
had  broken  loose,  in  order  to  look  about  it  in  the 
world ;  it  really  seemed  so  very  natural. 

"If  one  could  only  get  along  like  that ! "  said 
the  Toad.    "  Quack  —  alack !  Oh,  how  glorious  1 " 

It  stayed  eight  days  and  nights  by  the  ditch, 
and  felt  no  want  of  food.  The  ninth  day  it 
thought, "  Further  —  forward  !  "  But  was  there 
anything  more  beautiful  to  be  found  then  ?  per* 


THE   TOAD,  179 

haps  a  little  toad  or  some  green  frogs  ;  there  had 
been  a  sound  in  the  wind  last  night,  as  if  there 
were  "  cousins  "  near  by. 

"  It  is  a  fine  thing  to  live !  to  come  up  out  of  the 
well;  to  He  in  nettles;  to  creep  along  a  dusty 
"oad  ;  and  to  rest  in  a  wet  ditch  !  But  forward 
still !  let  us  find  out  frogs  or  a  little  toad  ;  one 
cannot  do  without  them,  after  all;  nature,  by 
itself,  is  not  enough  for  one !  "  And  so  it  set 
out  again  on  its  wanderings. 

It  came  to  a  field  and  a  large  pond,  with  rushes 
roimd  it ;  it  took  a  look  inside. 

"  It  is  too  wet  for  you  here,  is  n't  it  ?  "  said 
the  Frogs,  "  but  you  are  quite  welcome.  Are 
you  a  he  or  a  she  ?  —  not  that  it  matters,  you 
are  welcome  all  the  same." 

And  so  it  was  asked  to  a  concert  in  the  evening 
—  a  family  concert,  great  to-do  and  thin  voices ! 
we  all  know  that  sort  of  thing.  There  was  a  sup- 
per, only  water,  but  that  was  free  to  all  —  the 
whole  pond,  if  they  pleased. 

"  Now  I  shall  travel  further,"  said  the  Toad. 
It  was  always  craving  something  better. 

It  saw  the  stars  twinkle,  large  and  clear ;  it 
.  ',aw  the  new  moon  shine ;  it  saw  the  sim  rise 
higher  and  higher. 

"  I  think  I  am  still  in  the  well,  in  a  larger  well  ; 
I  must  get  higher  up  !  I  feel  an  unrest,  a  long- 
ing !  "    And  when  the  moon  had  grown  full  and 


180  HANS  ANDERSEirS  STORIES. 

round  the  poor  creature  thought,  "  I  wonder  if 
that  is  the  bucket  which  is  being  let  down,  and 
which  I  must  pop  into  if  I  wish  to  get  higher  up  ? 
Or  is  the  sun  the  great  bucket  ?  How  great  it  is, 
and  how  it  shines  !  It  could  hold  all  of  us  to- 
gether. I  must  watch  for  a  chance.  Ah,  how 
bright  it  is  in  my  head !  I  do  not  beheve  that 
the  jewel  can  shine  better.  The  jewel !  I  have 
it  not,  and  shall  not  cry  after  it.  No ;  higher 
still  in  gUtter  and  gladness !  I  feel  that  I  am 
in  the  right  way,  and  yet  I  have  a  fear  !  It  is  a 
hard  step  to  take,  but  it  must  be  taken.  For- 
ward !  right  on  along  the  high  road !  " 

And  it  stepped  out  as  well  as  such  a  scram- 
bling creature  can,  till  it  came  to  the  great  main 
road,  where  the  men  lived.  Here  there  were 
flowei^gardens  and  cabbage-gardens.  It  turned 
aside  to  rest  in  a  cabbage-garden. 

"  How  many  strange  beings  there  are,  which 
I  know  nothing  about !  and  how  great  and 
blessed  is  the  world !  But  one  must  keep  look- 
ing about  one,  and  not  be  sitting  always  in  one 
corner."  And  so  it  hopped  into  the  cabbage- 
garden.  "How  green  it  is  here!  how  pretty 
it  is  here !  " 

"  That  I  know  well  enough,"  said  the  Cater- 
pillar, on  the  leaf.  "My  leaf  is  the  largest 
here ;  it  covers  half  the  world  —  but  as  for  the 
world,  I  can  do  without  it." 


THE  TOAD.  181 

"  Cluck !  cluck !  "  said  somebody,  and  fowls 
came  tripping  into  the  cabbage-garden.  The 
foremost  hen  was  long-sighted;  she  spied  the 
worm  on  the  curly  leaf,  and  pecked  at  it,  so  that 
it  fell  to  the  ground,  where  it  lay  twisting  and 
turning.  The  Hen  looked  first  with  one  eye 
and  then  with  the  other,  for  she  could  not  make 
out  what  was  to  be  the  end  of  all  this  wriggling. 

"  It  does  not  do  this  of  its  own  accord," 
thought  the  Hen,  and  lifted  her  head  to  give  it 
a  clip.  The  Toad  grew  so  frightened  that  it 
scrambled  up  against  the  Hen. 

"  So  it  has  friends  to  fight  for  it,"  said  she ; 
^^  just  look  at  the  crawler !  "  and  the  Hen  turned 
tail.  "  I  sha'n't  trouble  myself  about  the  Kttle 
green  mouthful ;  it  only  gives  one  a  tickling  in 
the  throat."  The  other  fowls  were  of  the  same 
opinion,  and  away  they  went. 

"I  have  wriggled  away  from  her,"  said  the 
Caterpillar ;  "  it  is  good  to  have  presence  of 
mind,  but  the  hardest  task  remains,  to  get  up 
on  my  cabbage-leaf.     Where  is  it  ?  " 

And  the  little  Toad  came  forward  and  said 
some  kind  words.  It  was  glad  of  its  own  ugli- 
ness, that  had  frightened  away  the  Hen. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ? "  asked  the 
Caterpillar.  "  I  got  rid  of  her  myself,  I  tell 
you.  You  are  very  unpleasant  to  look  at ! 
May  n't  I  be   allowed   to   get   back    into   my 


182  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

own  ?  Now  I  smell  cabbage.  Now  I  am  near 
my  leaf.  There  is  nothing  so  nice  as  one's  own. 
I  must  go  higher  up  still." 

"  Yes,  higher  up ! "  said  the  little  Toad, 
"  higher  up  !  it  feels  just  as  I  feel ;  but  it  is  not 
in  good  humor  to-day ;  that  comes  of  the  fright. 
We  all  wish  to  get  higher  up."  And  it  looked 
up  as  high  as  it  could. 

The  Stork  sat  in  his  nest  on  the  farmer's 
roof ;  he  chattered,  and  the  stork-mother  chat- 
tered. 

"  How  high  they  live,"  thought  the  Toad. 
*^  Pity  that  one  can't  get  up  there  !  " 

There  were  two  young  students  lodging  in 
the  farmhouse;  one  of  them  was  a  poet,  the 
other  a  naturalist.  The  one  sang  and  wrote  in 
gladness  of  all  that  God  had  made,  just  as  it 
shone  in  his  own  heart;  he  sang  it  out  short 
and  clear,  and  rich  in  ringing  verses.  The 
other  took  hold  of  the  thing  itself ;  ay,  and 
split  it  up,  if  necessary.  He  treated  our  Lord's 
creation  like  some  vast  piece  of  arithmetic: 
subtracted,  multiplied,  wished  to  know  it  outside 
and  inside,  and  to  talk  of  it  with  reason ;  noth- 
ing but  reason  ;  and  he  talked  of  it  in  gladness 
too,  and  cleverly.  They  were  good,  glad-hearted 
men,  both  of  them. 

"  Yonder  sits  a  fine  example  of  a  toad,"  said 
the  NaturaUst ;  "  I  must  have  it  in  spirits." 


THE   TOAD,  183 

**You  have  two  already,"  said  the  Poet. 
■*  Let  it  sit  in  peace,  and  enjoy  itself." 

"  But  it  is  80  beautifully  ugly !  "  said  the 
other. 

"  Yes,  if  we  coidd  find  the  jewel  in  its  head,** 
said  the  Poet,  "  then  I  myself  might  lend  a  hand 
in  splitting  it  up." 

"  The  jewel !  "  said  the  other.  "  Much  you 
know  about  natural  history  !  " 

"  But  is  there  not  something  very  fine  in  the 
popular  beUef  that  the  toad,  the  ugliest  of  crea- 
tures, often  hides  in  its  head  the  most  precious 
of  all  jewels?  Is  it  not  much  the  same  with 
men  ?  Was  there  not  such  a  jewel  hidden  in 
^sop,  and  Socrates  too  ?  " 

The  Toad  heard  nothing  more ;  and  even  so 
far  it  did  not  understand  half  of  it.  The  two 
friends  went  on,  and  it  escaped  being  put  into 
spirits. 

"  They  were  talking  about  the  jewel,  too,'* 
said  the  Toad.  "  I  am  just  as  well  without  it ; 
otherwise  I  should  have  got  into  trouble." 

There  was  a  chatter,  chatter,  upon  the  farm- 
er's roof.  Father  Stork  was  giving  a  lecture  to 
his  family,  while  they  all  looked  down  with  their 
heads  on  one  side  at  the  two  young  men  in  the 
cabbage-garden. 

"  Men  are  the  most  vain  creatures,"  said  the 
Stork.     "  Hark,  how  they  are  going  on,  —  chat' 


184  HANS  ANDERSElSrS  STORIES. 


T 


ter,  chatter,  —  and  yet  they  cannot  beat  a  regu* 
lar  tattoo.  They  pu£E  themselves  up  with  no- 
tions of  their  fine  speech,  —  their  language.  A 
rare  language,  indeed ;  it  shifts  from  one  jabber 
to  another,  at  every  day's  journey.  One  person 
does  not  understand  the  next.  Our  language 
we  can  talk  the  whole  world  over,  whether  in 
Denmark  or  in  Egypt.  As  for  flying,  they 
can't  manage  it  at  all.  They  push  along  by 
means  of  an  aflfair  which  they  call  a  ^  railway,' 
but  there  they  often  get  their  necks  broken.  It 
gives  me  the  shivers  in  my  bill  when  I  think  of 
it.  The  world  can  exist  without  men.  We  can 
do  without  them.  All  we  want  are  frogs  and 
earthworms." 

"  That  was  a  grand  speech  now,"  thought  the 
little  Toad.  "  What  a  great  man  he  is,  and 
how  high  he  sits ;  higher  than  I  have  ever  seen 
any  one  before ;  and  how  well  he  can  swim,"  it 
cried,  as  the  Stork  took  flight  through  the  air 
^iih  outstretched  ^vings. 

And  Mother  Stork  talked  in  the  nest.  She 
told  of  the  land  of  Egypt,  of  the  water  of  the 
Nile,  and  of  the  first-rate  mud  that  was  to  be 
found  in  foreign  parts ;  it  sounded  quite  fresh 
and  charming  in  the  ears  of  the  little  Toad. 

"I  must  go  to  Egypt,"  it  said.  "If  the 
Stork  would  only  give  me  a  Uft ;  or  one  of  the 
young  ones  might  take  me.     I  would  do  th« 


THE   TOAD.  185 

youngster  some  service  in  my  turn,  on  his  wed- 
ding-day. I  am  sure  I  shall  get  to  Egypt,  for 
I  am  so  lucky;  and  all  the  longing  and  the 
joy  I  am  having  are  better  than  having  a  jewel 
in  one's  head." 

And  it  had  it,  —  the  true  jewel ;  the  eternal 
longing  and  joy  —  upward,  ever  upward.  This 
was  the  jewel,  and  it  shone  within  the  Toad, 
shone  with  gladness  and  beamed  with  desire. 

At  that  very  moment  came  the  Stork.  He 
had  seen  the  Toad  in  the  grass,  and  he  swooped 
down  and  took  hold  of  the  little  creature,  not 
over  tenderly.  The  bill  pinched;  the  wind 
whistled ;  it  was  not  pleasant,  but  it  was  going 
upward,  and  away  to  Egypt,  it  knew ;  and  that 
was  why  its  eyes  shone,  till  it  seemed  as  if  a 
spark  flew  out  of  them. 

"Quack  — ack!" 

The  body  was  dead,  the  Toad  was  killed. 
But  the  spark  out  of  its  eyes,  what  became  of 
that  ? 

The  sunbeam  took  it;  the  sunbeam  bore 
away  the  jewel  from  the  head  of  the  Toad. 
Whither  ? 

You  must  not  ask  the  Naturalist ;  rather  ask 
the  Poet.     He  will  tell  it  you  as  a  fairy  tale- 
and  the  Caterpillar  is  in  it,  and  the  Stork  fam 
ily  is   in   it.      Think,  the   Caterpillar   will   bt 
changed,   and   become  a  beautiful    buttei'flyl 


186  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES, 

The  Stork  family  will  fly  over  mountains  and 
seas  far  away  to  Africa,  and  yet  find  the  short- 
est way  home  again  to  the  Danish  land,  to  the 
same  spot,  to  the  same  roof !  Yes,  it  is  all  nearly 
(too  much  like  a  fairy  tale,  —  and  yet  it  is  true, 
jYou  may  fairly  ask  the  Naturalist  about  the 
truth  of  it ;  he  will  admit  that,  and,  indeed,  you 
know  it  yourself,  for  you  have  seen  it. 

But  the  jewel  in  the  Toad's  head?  Look  for 
it  in  the  sun ;  look  at  it  if  you  can. 

The  splendor  is  too  strong.  We  have  not 
yet  eyes  that  can  look  into  all  the  glories  which 
God  hath  revealed ;  but  some  day  we  shall  have 
them,  and  that  will  be  the  most  beautiful  fairy 
tale  of  all,  for  we  ourselves  shall  be  in  it. 


THE  EMPEROR'S  NEW  CLOTHES. 

Many  years  ago  there  lived  an  Emperor,  who 
thought  so  very  much  of  grand  new  clothes 
that  he  spent  all  his  money  upon  them,  that  he 
might  be  very  fine.  He  did  not  care  about  his 
soldiers ;  he  did  not  care  to  see  the  play,  or  to 
drive  in  the  woods,  except  to  show  his  new 
clothes.  He  had  a  coat  for  every  hour  of  the 
day ;  and  just  as  they  say  of  a  king,  "  He  is  in 
council,"  so  they  always  said  of  him,  "  The  Em- 
peror is  in  the  clothes-closet." 

In  the  great  city  in  which  he  lived  it  was 
always  very  merry;  every  day  came  many  stran- 
gers ;  one  day  two  rogues  came :  they  gave 
themselves  out  as  weavers,  and  said  they  knew 
how  to  weave  the  finest  stuff  any  one  could 
fancy.  Not  only  were  their  colors  and  patterns, 
they  said,  very  beautiful,  but  the  clothes  made 
of  the  stuff  had  the  wonderful  quality  that  they 
could  not  be  seen  by  any  one  who  was  unfit  for 
the  office  he  held,  or  was  too  stupid  for  any- 
thing. 

"  Those  would  be  capital  clothes  !  "  thought 
the  Emperor.   "  If  I  wore  those,  I  should  be  able 


188  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES, 


^ 


to  find  out  what  men  in  my  empire  were  not  fit 
for  the  places  they  have  ;  I  could  tell  the  clever 
from  the  dunces.  Yes,  the  stuff  must  be  woven 
for  me  at  once  !  "  And  he  gave  the  two  rogues 
a  great  deal  of  cash  in  hand,  that  they  might 
begin  their  work  without  delay. 

As  for  them,  they  put  up  two  looms,  and 
made  as  if  they  were  working ;  but  they  had 
nothing  at  all  on  their  looms.  They  at  once 
called  for  the  finest  silk  and  the  costliest  gold ; 
this  they  put  into  their  own  pockets,  and  worked 
at  the  empty  looms  till  late  into  the  night. 

"  I  should  like  to  know  how  far  they  have 
got  on  with  the  stuff,"  thought  the  Emperor. 
But  he  felt  quite  uneasy  when  he  thought  that 
•ne  who  was  stupid  or  not  fit  for  his  office  could 
not  see  it.  He  believed,  indeed,  that  he  had 
nothing  to  fear  for  himself  ;  still  he  thought  he 
had  better  first  send  some  one  else  to  see  how 
matters  stood.  All  the  people  in  the  city  knew 
what  peculiar  power  the  stuff  had,  and  all  were 
anxious  to  see  how  bad  or  how  stupid  their 
neighbors  were. 

"  I  will  send  my  honest  old  Minister  to  the 
weavers,"  thought  the  Emperor.  "He  car 
judge  best  how  the  stuff  looks,  for  he  has  sense, 
and  no  one  knows  his  place  better  than  he." 

Now  the  good  old  Minister  went  out  into  the 
hall  where  the  two  rogues  sat  working  at  the 
empty  looms. 


THE  EMPEROR'S  NEW  CLOTHES.         189 

"  Mercy  on  us !  "  thought  the  old  Minister, 
and  he  opened  his  eyes  wide.  ^'  I  cannot  see 
anything  at  all !  "  But  he  did  not  say  this. 

Both  the  rogues  begged  him  to  be  so  good  as 
to  come  nearer,  and  asked  if  the  colors  and  the 
patterns  were  not  pretty.  Then  they  pointed  to 
the  empty  loom,  and  the  poor  old  Minister  went 
on  opening  his  eyes ;  but  he  could  see  nothing, 
for  there  was  nothing. 

"  Mercy  !  "  thought  he,  "  suppose  I  am  really 
stupid !  I  never  thought  that,  and  not  a  soul 
must  know  it.  Suppose  I  am  not  fit  for  my 
office  !  No,  it  will  never  do  for  me  to  tell  that  I 
could  not  see  the  stuff." 

"  You  don't  say  anything  of  it  ?  "  said  one,  as 
he  went  on  weaving. 

"  Oh,  il  is  charming,  —  quite  enchanting  !  " 
said  the  old  Minister,  as  he  peered  through  his 
glasses.  "  What  a  fine  pattern,  and  what 
colors !  Yes,  I  shall  tell  the  Emperor  that  I  am 
very  much  pleased  with  it." 

"  Well,  we  are  glad  of  that,"  said  both  the 
weavers ;  and  then  they  named  the  colors,  and 
explained  the  strange  pattern.  The  old  Minis- 
ter listened  closely,  that  he  might  be  able  to  re- 
peat it  when  he  came  to  the  Emperor.  And  he 
did  so. 

Now  the  rogues  asked  for  more  money,  and 
silk  and  gold )  they  wanted  it  all  for  weaving. 


190  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

They  put  all  into  their  own  pockets,  and  not  a 
thread  was  put  upon  the  loom ;  but  they  kept 
by  it  as  before,  and  wove  at  the  empty  loom. 

The  Emperor  soon  sent  again  another  honest 
officer  of  the  court,  to  see  how  the  weaving  was 
going  on,  and  if  the  stuff  would  soon  be  ready., 
He  fared  just  like  the  first:  he  looked  and 
looked,  but,  as  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but 
the  empty  looms,  he  could  see  nothing. 

"  Is  not  that  a  pretty  piece  of  stuff  ?  "  asked 
the  two  rogues ;  and  they  showed  and  made 
clear  the  handsome  pattern  which  was  not  there 
at  all. 

"  I  am  not  stupid  ! "  thought  the  man  :  "  it 
must  be  my  good  oflBce,  for  which  I  am  not  fit. 
That  would  be  queer  enough,  but  I  must  not  let 
it  be  noticed."  And  so  he  praised  the  stuff 
which  he  did  not  see,  and  said  how  pleased  he 
was  with  the  beautiful  colors  and  charming  pat- 
tern. "  Yes,  it  is  enchanting,"  he  told  the  Em- 
peror. 

All  the  people  in  the  town  talked  of  the  gor- 
geous stuff. 

Now,  the  Emperor  wished  to  see  it  himself 
while  it  was  still  upon  the  loom.  With  a  whole 
crowd  of  chosen  men,  among  whom  were  also 
the  two  honest  statesmen  who  had  already  been 
there,  he  went  to  the  two  cunning  rogues,  who 
were  weaving  with  might  and  main  without  fibre 
or  thread. 


THE  EMPEROR'S  NEW  CLOTHES.        191 

"  Is  not  that  splendid  ?  "  said  the  two  honest 
statesmen.  "  Does  your  Majesty  see  what  a  pat- 
tern it  has  and  what  colors  ?  "  And  then  they 
pointed  to  the  empty  loom,  for  they  thought 
that  the  others  could  see  the  stuff. 

"  What 's  this  ?  "  thought  the  Emperor.  « I 
can  see  nothing  at  all !  That  is  terrible.  Am 
I  stupid  ?  Am  I  not  fit  to  be  Emperor  ?  That 
would  be  the  most  dreadful  thing  that  could  hap- 
pen to  me."  "  Oh,  it  is  very  pretty  !  "  he  said 
aloud.  "  It  has  my  highest  approval."  And 
he  nodded  in  a  contented  way,  and  gazed  at  the 
empty  loom,  for  he  would  not  say  that  he  saw 
nothing.  The  whole  crowd  whom  he  had  with 
him  looked  and  looked,  but  they  got  nothing 
more  out  of  it  than  all  the  rest ;  but,  like  the 
Emperor,  they  said,  "  Oh,  that  is  very  pretty !  " 
and  they  begged  him  to  have  some  clothes  made 
of  this  new,  pretty  stuff,  and  to  wear  them  for 
the  first  time  in  the  great  procession  that  was  to 
take  place.  "  It  is  splendid,  excellent !  "  went 
from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  they  all  were  like  one 
person  in  the  way  they  talked.  The  Emperor  I 
gave  each  of  the  rogues  a  ribbon  to  wear  in  his 
buttonhole,  and  gave  them  the  title  of  Imperial 
Court  Weavers. 

The  whole  night  before  the  morning  on  which 
the  procession  was  to  take  place,  the  rogues 
were  up,  and  kept  more  than   sixteen   candles 


192  HANS  ANDERSEirS  STORIES. 

burning.  The  people  could  see  that  they  were 
hard  at  work  upon  the  Emperor's  new  clothes. 
They  made  believe  take  the  stuff  down  from  the 
loom;  they  made  cuts  in  the  air  with  great 
shears ;  they  sewed  with  needles  without  thread ; 
and  at  last  they  said.  "Now  the  clothes  are 
ready ! " 

The  Emperor  came  himself  with  his  noblest 
cavaliers ;  and  the  two  rogues  lifted  up  one  arm 
as  if  they  were  holding  something,  and  said, 
"  See,  here  are  the  trousers !  here  is  the  coat ! 
here  is  the  cape  I  "  and  so  on.  "  It  is  as  light 
as  a  spider's  web:  one  would  think  one  had 
nothing  on ;  but  that  is  just  the  beauty  of  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  all  the  cavaliers ;  but  they  could 
not  see  anything,  for  there  was  nothing. 

"  Will  your  Imperial  Majesty  be  so  good  as 
to  take  off  your  clothes  ? "  said  the  rogues ; 
"  then  we  will  put  on  you  the  new  clothes  here 
in  front  of  the  great  mirror." 

The  Emperor  took  off  his  clothes,  and  the 
rogues  pretended  to  put  on  him  each  new  robe 
as  it  was  ready ;  they  wrapped  him  about  and 
they  tied  and  they  buttoned,  and  they  worked 
hard,  and  the  Emperor  turned  round  and  round 
before  the  mirror. 

"Oh,  how  well  they  look!  how  nicely  they 
fit !  "  said  all.  "  What  a  pattern  !  what  colors  I 
That  is  a  splendid  dress  1 " 


THE  EMPEROR'S  NEW  CLOTHES,        193 

*^  They  are  standing  outside  with  the  canopy 
which  is  to  be  borne  above  your  Majesty  in  the 
procession  1 "  said  the  head  Master  of  the  Cere- 
monies. 

"Well,  I  am  ready,"  replied  the  Emperor. 
"  Does  it  not  suit  me  well  ?  "  And  then  he 
turned  again  to  the  mirror,  for  he  wanted  it  to 
look  as  if  he  saw  all  his  finery. 

The  chamberlains,  who  were  to  carry  the 
train,  stooped  down  with  their  hands  toward  the 
floor,  just  as  if  they  were  picking  up  the  train ; 
then  they  held  it  up  in  the  air.  They  did  not 
dare  to  let  it  be  seen  that  they  could  see  nothing. 

So  the  Emperor  went  in  procession  under  the 
rich  canopy,  and  all  the  people  in  the  streets 
and  at  the  windows  said,  "How  fine  the  Em- 
peror's new  clothes  are  !  what  a  train  he  has  to 
his  mantle !  how  well  it  fits  him  1 "  No  one 
would  let  it  be  seen  that  he  could  see  nothing, 
for  that  would  have  shown  that  he  was  not  fit 
for  his  office,  or  was  very  stupid.  No  clothes 
of  the  Emperor's  had  ever  had  such  a  success  as 
these. 

"  But  he  has  nothing  on  !  "  said  a  little  child. 

"  Mercy  on  us !  Just  hear  that  innocent 
voice ! "  said  his  father ;  and  one  whispered  to 
another  what  the  child  had  said. 

"  He  has  nothing  on ;  there  's  a  little  child 
here  savs  he  has  nothinsr  on." 


194  HANS  ANDERSEirS  STORIES. 

'*  That 's  so  !  he  has  nothing  on  / "  said  the 
whole  people  at  last.  That  touched  the  Em* 
peror,  for  it  seemed  to  him  that  they  were  right ; 
but  he  thought  within  himself,  "  I  must  go 
through  with  the  procession."  And  so  he  held 
himself  a  little  higher,  and  the  chamberlains 
inarched  and  carried  the  train^  but  there  was  do 
train. 


THE  EAPPT  FAMILY. 

The  biggest  green  leaf  in  all  the  land  Is  ceiw 
tainly  the  burdock  leaf.  Put  one  in  front  of 
your  stomach  and  it 's  just  like  an  apron,  and 
if  you  lay  it  upon  your  head  in  a  rain-storm,  it 
is  almost  as  good  as  an  umbrella,  for  it  is  so 
very,  very  big.  A  burdock  never  grows  alone : 
where  there  is  one  tree  there  are  several  more. 
It 's  splendid  to  behold  !  and  all  this  splendor  is 
snail's  meat,  —  the  great  white  snails,  which  the 
grand  people  in  old  times  used  to  have  made 
into  fricassees ;  and  when  they  had  eaten  them 
they  would  say,  "  H'm,  how  good  that  is  !  "  for 
they  had  the  idea  that  it  tasted  well.  These 
snails  lived  on  burdock  leaves,  and  that 's  why 
burdocks  were  sown. 

Now  there  was  an  old  estate,  on  which  people 
ate  snails  no  longer.  The  snails  had  died  out, 
but  the  burdocks  had  not.  They  grew  and 
grew  in  all  the  walks  and  on  all  the  beds  —  one 
could  hardly  make  way  against  them  ;  there  was 
a  real  forest  of  burdocks.  Here  and  there  stood 
an  apple  or  plum  tree ;  but  for  this,  nobody 
would  have  thought  a  garden  had  been  there. 


196  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

Everything  was  burdock,  and  among  the  bur- 
docks lived  the  two  last  old,  very  old  snails. 

They  did  not  know  themselves  how  old  they 
were,  but  they  could  very  well  remember  that 
there  had  been  a  great  many  more  of  them, 
that  they  were  from  a  foreign  family,  and  that 
the  whole  forest  had  been  planted  for  them  and 
theirs.  They  had  never  been  away  from  home, 
but  they  knew  that  there  was  something  in  the 
world  called  the  manor-house,  and  that  there 
one  was  boiled,  and  one  became  black,  and  was 
laid  upon  a  silver  dish ;  but  what  was  done 
afterward  they  did  not  know.  Moreover,  they 
could  not  think  what  it  might  be  to  be  boiled 
and  laid  upon  a  silver  dish ;  but  it  was  sure  to 
be  fine,  and  quite  grand  !  Neither  the  June 
bug,  nor  the  toad,  nor  the  earthworm,  whom 
they  asked  about  it,  could  tell  them  anything, 
for  none  of  their  own  kind  had  ever  been  boiled 
and  laid  on  silver  dishes. 

The  old  white  snails  were  the  most  famous  in 
the  world ;  they  knew  that !  The  forest  was 
there  for  their  sake,  and  the  manor-house  too,  so 
that  they  might  be  boiled  and  laid  on  silver 
dishes. 

They  lived  alone  a  happy  life,  and  as  they 
had  no  children,  they  had  taken  a  little  common 
snail,  which  they  brought  up  as  their  own  child. 
But  the  little  thing  would  not  grow,  for  it  was 


THE  HAPPY  FAMILY.  197 

only  a  common  snail,  though  the  snail-mother 
seemed  to  think  she  could  see  how  it  grew. 
And  when  the  father  could  not  see  it,  she  asked 
him  to  feel  the  little  snail's  shell,  and  he  felt  it, 

,  and  acknowledged  that  she  was  right. 
One  day  there  was  a  hard  rain. 

)  **  Hear,  how  it  goes,  rum-dum-dum !  rum- 
dum-dum !  on  the  burdock  leaves,"  said  the 
Father  Snail. 

"  That 's  what  I  call  drops,"  said  the  mother. 
'^  It 's  coming  straight  down  the  stalks.  You  '11 
see  it  will  be  wet  here  directly.  I  'm  only  glad 
that  we  have  our  good  houses,  and  that  the  little 
one  has  his  own.  There  has  been  more  done 
for  us  than  for  any  other  creature  ;  one  can  see 
very  plainly  that  we  are  the  grand  folks  of  the 
world !  We  have  houses  from  our  birth,  and 
the  burdock  forest  has  been  planted  for  us :  I 
should  like  to  know  how  far  it  reaches,  and  what 
lies  beyond  it." 

"  There  's  nothing  beyond,"  said  the  Father 
Snail ;  "  there  can  be  no  place  better  than  home ; 

1 1  have  nothing  at  all  to  wish  for." 

,  "Well,"  said  the  mother,  "I  should  like  to 
be  taken  to  the  manor-house  and  boiled  and  laid 
upon  a  silver  dish ;  that  has  been  done  to  all 
our  forefathers,  and  you  may  be  sure  there's 
nothing  finer  than  that." 

The  manoi^house  has  perhaps  fallen  in,"  said 


a 


198  HANS  ANDERSElSrS  STORIES. 

the  Father  SnaU,  "  or  the  forest  of  burdocks 
may  have  grown  over  it,  so  that  people  can't 
get  out  at  all.  You  need  not  be  in  a  hurry  — 
but  you  always  hurry  so,  and  the  little  one  is 
beginning  just  the  same  way.  Has  he  not  been 
creeping  up  that  stalk  these  three  days  ?  I  get 
A  headache  when  I  look  up  at  him." 

"  You  must  not  scold  him,"  said  the  Mother 
Snail.  "He  crawls  very  steadily.  We  shall 
iiave  much  joy  in  him  ;  and  we  old  people  have 
nothing  else  to  live  for.  But  have  you  ever 
thought  of  this :  where  shall  we  get  a  wife  for 
him  ?  Don't  you  think  that  farther  in  the  wood 
there  may  be  some  more  of  our  kind? " 

"  There  may  be  black  snails  there,  I  think," 
said  the  old  fellow,  —  "black  snails  without 
houses  !  but  they're  too  vidgar.  And  they  're 
vain,  for  all  that.  But  we  can  give  the  errand 
to  the  ants :  they  run  to  and  fro,  as  if  they  had 
business ;  they  're  sure  to  know  of  a  wife  for  our 
little  snail." 

"I  certainly  know  the  most  beautiful  of 
brides,"  said  one  of  the  ants ;  "  but  I  fear  she 
would  not  do,  for  she  is  the  Queen  ! " 

"That  does  not  matter,"  said  the  two  old 
Snails.     "  Has  she  a  house  ?  " 

"  She  has  a  castle  !  "  replied  the  Ant,  —  "  the 
most  beautiful  ant's  castle,  with  seven  hundred 
passages." 


THE  HAPPY  FAMILY.  199 

'*  Thank  you,"  said  the  Mother  Snail ;  "  our 
boy  shall  not  go  into  an  ant-hill.  If  you  know 
of  nothing  better,  we'll  give  the  errand  to  the 
white  gnats ;  they  fly  far  about  in  rain  and  sun** 
shine,  and  they  know  the  burdock  wood,  inside 
and  outside." 

"  We  have  a  wife  for  him,"  said  the  Gnats. 
^^  A  hundred  man-steps  from  here  a  little  snail 
with  a  house  is  sitting  on  a  gooseberry  bush ; 
she  is  quite  alone,  and  old  enough  to  marry.  It 's 
only  a  hundred  man-steps  from  here." 

"  Yes,  let  her  come  to  him,"  said  the  old  peo- 
ple. "  He  has  a  whole  burdock  forest,  and  she 
has  only  a  bush." 

And  so  they  brought  the  little  maiden  snail. 
It  took  eight  days  for  her  to  come,  but  that  was 
just  the  way  one  could  see  that  she  was  of  the 
right  kind. 

And  then  they  had  a  wedding.  Six  glow- 
worms Hghted  as  well  as  they  could :  except  for 
that,  all  went  very  quietly,  for  the  old  snail  peo- 
ple could  not  bear  feasting  and  merry-making. 
But  a  capital  speech  was  made  by  the  Mother 
Snail.  The  father  could  not  speak,  he  was  so 
much  moved.  Then  they  gave  the  young  couple 
the  whole  burdock  forest  for  a  portion,  and  said 
what  they  had  always  said,  namely,  —  that  it 
was  the  best  place  in  the  world,  and  that  if  they 
Kved  soberly  and  properly  and  behaved  them- 


200  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 


n 


selves  they  would  some  day  be  taken  with  theii- 
children,  to  the  manor-house,  and  boiled  black, 
and  laid  upon  a  silver  dish ;  and  when  the 
speech  was  finished,  the  old  people  crept  into 
their  houses  and  never  came  out  again,  for  they 
slept. 

The  young  snail  pair  now  ruled  in  the  f orestc 
and  had  a  large  family.  But  they  were  never 
boiled  and  never  put  into  silver  dishes,  so  they 
made  up  their  minds  that  the  manor-house  had 
fallen  in,  and  that  all  the  people  in  the  world 
had  died  out.  As  nobody  denied  this,  they 
must  have  been  right;  and  the  rain  fell  upon 
the  burdock  leaves  to  play  the  drum  for  them  ; 
and  the  sun  shone  to  color  the  burdock  forest 
for  them ;  and  they  were  happy,  very  happy 
—  the  whole  family  was  happy,  uncommonly 
happy ! 


THE  CANDLES. 

There  was  a  great  Wax-light  that  knew  well 
enough  what  it  was. 

"  I  am  born  in  wax,  and  moulded  in  a  form," 
it  said.  "  I  give  more  light  and  burn  a  longer 
time  than  any  other  light.  My  place  is  in  the 
chandeUer,  or  silver  candlestick." 

"  That  must  be  a  charming  life !  "  said  the 
Tallow-candle.  "  I  am  only  of  tallow,  —  only  a 
tallow  dip ;  but  then,  I  comfort  myself,  it  is 
always  better  than  to  be  a  mere  taper,  that  is 
dipped  only  two  times :  I  am  dipped  eight  times, 
to  get  a  decent  thickness.  I'm  satisfied.  It 
would,  to  be  sure,  be  finer  and  luckier  still  to 
have  been  born  in  wax,  and  not  in  tallow ;  but 
one  does  n't  fix  himself  in  this  world.  They  are 
put  in  great  rooms,  and  in  glass  candlesticks.  I 
live  in  the  kitchen,  —  but  that  is  a  good  place, 
too:  they  get  up  all  the  dishes  in  the  house 
there." 

"  But  there  is  something  that  is  more  impor- 
tant than  eating !  "  said  the  Wax-candle.  "  Good 
company,  —  to  see  them  shine,  and  shine  your- 


202  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

self.  There  is  a  ball  here  this  evening.  Now  I 
and  all  my  family  are  soon  to  be  sent  for." 

Scarcely  was  this  said,  than  all  the  Wax-hghts 
were  sent  for,  —  but  the  Tallow-candle  too.  The 
mistress  took  it  in  her  delicate  hand,  and  carried 
it  out  into  the  kitchen ;  there  stood  a  little  boy 
with  a  basket  that  was  full  of  potatoes,  and  a 
few.  apples  were  in  it  too.  The  good  lady  had 
^ven  all  these  to  the  poor  boy. 

"  Here  is  a  candle  for  you,  my  little  friend," 
said  she.  "  Your  mother  sits  up  and  works  far 
into  the  night,  —  she  can  use  this." 

The  lady's  little  daughter  stood  by  her  ,•  and 
when  she  heard  the  words  "  far  into  the  night," 
she  said  eagerly,  "  And  I  'm  going  to  sit  up  till 
night,  too !  We  're  going  to  have  a  ball,  and  I  'm 
to  wear  big  red  bows  for  it." 

How  her  face  shone  !  yes,  that  was  happiness ! 
no  wax-light  could  shine  like  the  child's  eyes. 

"  That  is  a  blessed  thing  to  see,"  thought  the 
Tallow-candle.  "I  shall  never  forget  it,  and 
certainly  it  seems  to  me  there  can  be  nothing 
more."  And  so  the  Candle  was  laid  in  the  bas- 
ket under  the  cover,  and  the  boy  took  it  away. 

"  Where  am  I  going  to  now  ?  "  thought  the 
Candle.  "  I  shall  be  with  poor  folks,  perhaps 
not  once  get  a  brass  candlestick ;  but  the  Wax- 
light  is  stuck  in  silver,  and  sees  the  finest  folks  1 
What  can  there  be  more  delightful  than  to  be  a 


THE  CANDLES.  203 

Kght  among  fine  folks  ?  That 's  my  lot,  —  tal- 
low, not  wax." 

And  so  the  Candle  came  to  the  poor  people, 
a  widow  with  three  children,  in  a  little,  low 
room,  right  over  opposite  the  rich  house. 

"  God  bless  the  good  lady  for  what  she  gave  !  ** 
said  the  mother ;  "  it  is  a  splendid  candle,  —  it 
can  burn  till  far  into  the  night." 

And  the  Candle  was  lighted. 

"  l^ugh !  "  it  said.  "  That  was  a  horrid  match 
she  Ughted  me  with.  One  hardly  offers  such  a 
thing  as  that  to  a  wax-light,  over  at  the  rich 
house." 

There  also  the  wax-lights  were  lighted,  and 
shone  out  over  the  street.  The  carriages  rum- 
bled  up  to  the  rich  house  with  the  guests  for  the 
ball,  dressed  so  finely ;  the  music  struck  up. 

"  Now  they  're  beginning  over  there,"  felt  the 
Tallow-candle,  and  thought  of  the  little  rich 
girl's  bright  face,  that  was  brighter  than  all  the 
wax-lights.  "  That  sight  I  never  shall  see  any 
more." 

Then  the  smallest  of  the  children  in  the  poor 
house  came  —  she  was  a  little  girl  — •  and  put 
her  arms  round  her  brother  and  sister's  necks ; 
she  had  something  very  important  to  tell,  and 
must  whisper  it. 

"  We  're  going  to  have  this  evening,  —  just 
think  of  it,  —  we  're  going  to  have  this  evening 


204  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

warm  potatoes ! "  and  her  face  beamed  with 
happiness.  The  Candle  shone  right  at  her,  and 
saw  a  pleasure,  a  happiness,  as  great  as  was  in 
the  rich  house,  where  the  little  girl  said,  "  We 
are  going  to  have  a  ball  this  evening,  and  I  shall 
wear  some  great  red  bows." 

"  Is  it  such  a  great  thing  to  get  warm  pota- 
toes ?  "  thought  the  Candle.  "  Well,  here  is  just 
the  same  joy  among  the  little  things ! "  and  it 
sneezed^  at  that,  —  that  is,  it  sputtered^  and 
more  than  that  no  tallow-candle  could  do.  The 
table  was  spread,  the  potatoes  were  eaten.  Oh, 
how  good  they  tasted  !  it  was  a  real  feast ;  and 
then  each  got  an  apple  besides,  and  the  smallest 
child  sang  the  little  verse,  — 

"  Now  thanks,  dear  Lord,  I  give  to  Thee, 
That  Thou  again  hast  filled  me.     Amen." 

"  Was  not  that  said  prettily?  "  asked  the  little 
girl. 

"  You  must  n't  ask  that,  or  say  it,"  said  the 
mother.  "You  should  only  thank  the  good 
God,  who  has  filled  you." 

And  the  little  children  went  to  bed,  gave  a 
good-night  kiss,  and  fell  asleep  right  away  ;  and 
the  mother  sat  till  far  into  the  night,  and  sewed, 
to  get  a  living  for  them  and  herself ;  and  from 

^  In  Danish  popular  talk,  to  sneeze  at  a  thing  is  the  same 
as  to  nod  assent. 


THE  CANDLES.  205 

the  rich  house  the  lights  shone,  and  the  music 
sounded.  The  stars  twinkled  over  all  the  houses, 
over  the  rich  and  over  the  poor,  just  as  clear, 
just  as  kindly. 

"  That  was  in  truth  a  rare  evening/'  thought 
the  Tallow-candle.  "Do  you  think  the  wax- 
lights  had  any  better  time  in  their  silver  candle- 
sticks ?  that  I  'd  like  to  know  before  I  am  burnt 
out!" 

And  It  thought  of  the  happy  children's  faces : 
the  two  alike  happy,  the  one  lighted  by  wax- 
light,  the  other  by  tallow-candle. 

Yes,  that  is  the  whole  story. 


INDEX  OF  TITLES. 


Paob 

Beetle,  The 59 

Candles,  The 201 

Constant  Tin  Soldier,  The 79 

Daisy,  The 72 

Dabninq-Needle,  The 87 

Emperor's  New  Clothes,  The 187 

Flax,  The ^        ....  149 

Happy  Family,  The 195 

Little  Match  Girl,  The 56 

Lovers,  The 93 

Luck. MAY  lib  in  a  Stick 48 

Nightingale,  The 156 

Pine-Tree,  The 32 

Princess  on  the  Pea,  The 30 

Snow-Queen,  The 97 

Tea-Pot,  The 52 

Toad,  The 175 

Ugly  Duckling,  The 13 

What  the  Moon  saw     •••••«••  17$ 


HOW  TO  TELL  STORIES  TO 
CHILDREN 

BY 

SARA  CONE  BRYANT 

$1.00  net.    Postpaid 

This  book  is  of  great  interest  and  value  to  teachers  in  the  kindergarten, 
and  in  grades  I-V  inclusive. 

"  How  to  Tell  Stories  to  Children  "  discusses  the  advantages  of  telling 
stories,  rather  than  reading  them,  the  proper  feasible  aims  of  story-telUng, 
the  kinds  of  stories  best  suited  to  aid  the  development  of  the  child  at  each 
stage  of  growth,  and  the  qualities  which  make  a  story  easy  to  tell.  The  sug- 
gestions and  rules  given  are  the  fruits  of  the  author's  own  experience. 

All  the  principles  laid  down  in  the  didactic  portion  of  the  book  are  illus- 
trated in  the  body  of  "  Stories  Selected  and  Adapted  for  Telling,"  which 
makes  up  the  second  part.  These  are  divided  into  tales  especially  suited  to 
children,  respectively,  of  the  kindergarten,  the  first,  second,  third,  fourth,  and 
fifth  grades. 


STORffiS  TO  TELL  TO  CHILDREN 

FIFTY  STORIES  WITH  SOME 
SUGGESTIONS  FOR  TELLING 

BY 

SARA  CONE  BRYANT 

$1,00  net.    Postpaid 

Many  of  these  stories  are  original  with  Miss  Bryant,  and  some,  taken  down 
from  word  of  mouth  in  the  South  or  the  West,  and  dealing  with  interesting 
local  traditions,  are  probably  here  printed  for  the  first  time.  The  book  also 
contains  the  most  worthy  of  the  old  familiar  folk-tales  and  fables,  in  an  easier 
form  for  telling  than  is  usual.  Especial  attention  has  been  paid  to  the  com- 
pilation of  those  stories  which  educate  the  child,  and  to  humorous  stories  —  of 
which  one  of  the  best  is  "  Epaminondas  and  his  Auntie."  In  one  of  the  in- 
troductory chapters  there  is  described  an  actual  schoolroom  happening  which 
demonstrates  the  teaching  power  of  this  nonsense  tale.  Nearly  all  the  stories 
have  been  successfully  tested  by  Miss  Bryant  during  her  recent  work  on  the 
platform  and  in  the  schools.  They  are  carefully  graded  from  the  kinder, 
garten  to  grade  IV.  The  book  contains  also  fresh  suggestions  as  to  the  story, 
teller's  methods  and  sources,  which  are  complementary  to  those  in  "  How  to 
Tell  Stories  to  Children,"  and  which  have  been  proved  in  Miss  Bryant's 
experience  to  be  applicable. 

Descriptive  circulars  will  be  sent  on  application 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

4  Park  St.,  Boston  ;  85  Fifth  Ave.,  New  York 

378-388  Wabash  Ave.,  Chicago 


FOURTEEN  DAY  USE 

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SESSIONS 

ff6   T/^i    IS/ 

fT.^     ~l 

\    JUL  2  9  1975    1 

j      rt.'r  7^>/Jc^     J 

L 

iMIb.WL'R'^AF? 

Y  LOAN 

A               1! 

^/D 

UNIV.  Of    t„AUI 

F.,  BERK. 

SEP24REC'D-] 

PM 

DUENRLF    JUL  2 

4  1986 

LD  21-100m-2,'55 
(B139822)476 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


YB  35742 


I 


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