Wonderful stories for children

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WONDERFUL STORIES

FOR CHILDREN,

BY HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSON,

AUTHOR OF " THE IMPROVISATORS," ETC.

TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH BY MARY HOWITT.

NEW YORK.

WILEY & PUTNAM,

161 BROADWAY.
1846.

T ! [M T i D

PAGE
OLE LUCKOIE THE STORY-TELLER AT NIGHT, . 5

THE DAISY 28

THE NAUGHTY BOY , . 37

TOMMELISE ,, 42

THE ROSE -ELF 64

THE GARDEN OF PARADISE 74

A NIGHT IN THE KITCHEN . . . . . . .102

LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS 108

THE CONSTANT TIN SOLDIER 124

THE STORKS . ... 133

OLE LUCKOIE, (SHUT-EYE.)

THERE is nobody in all this world who knows so
many tales as Ole Luckoie ! He can tell tales !
In an evening, when a child sits so nicely at the
table, or on its little stool, Ole Luckoie comes. He
comes so quietly into the house, for he walks without
shoes ; he opens the door without making any noise,
and then he flirts sweet milk into the children's eyes ;
but so gently, so very gently, that they cannot keep
their eyes open, and, therefore, they never see him ;
he steals softly behind them and blows gently on
their necks, and thus their heads become heavy. Oh
yes ! But then it does them no harm ; for Ole
Luckoie means nothing but kindness to the children,
he only wants to amuse them ; and the best thing
that con be done is for somebody to carry them to

6 OLE LUCKOIE.

bed, where they may lie still and listen to the tales
that he will tell them.

Now when the children are asleep, Ole Luckoie
sits down on the bed ; he is very well dressed ; his
coat is of silk, but it is not possible to tell what color
it is, because it shines green, and red, and blue, just
as if one color ran into another. He holds an um-
brella under each arm ; one of them is covered all
over the inside with pictures, and this he sets over
the good child, and it dreams all night long the most
beautiful histories. The other umbrella has nothing

o

at all within it ; this he sets over the heads of naughty
children, and they sleep so heavily, that next morning
when they wake they have not dreamed the least in
the world.

Now we will hear how Ole Luckoie came every
evening for a whole week to a little boy, whose name
was Yalmar, and what he told him. There are seven
stories, because there are seven days in a week.

OLE LUCKOIE. 7

MONDAY.

" Just listen !" said Ole Luckoie, in the evening,
when they had put Yalmar in bed ; " now I shall
make things fine !" — and with that all the plants in the
flower-pots grew up into great trees which stretched
out their long branches along the ceiling and the
walls, till the whole room looked like the most beau-
tiful summer-house ; and all the branches were full
of flowers, and every flower was more beautiful than
a rose, and was so sweet, that if anybody smelt at it,
it was sweeter than raspberry jam ! The fruit on the
trees shone like gold, and great big bunches of raisins
hung down — never had any thing been seen like it !
— but all at once there began such a dismal lamen-
tation in the table-drawer where Yalmar kept his
school-books.

" What is that ?" said Ole Luckoie, and went to
the table and opened the drawer. It was the slate
that was in great trouble ; for there was an addition
sum on it that was added up wrong, and the slate-
pencil was hopping and jumping about in its string,
like a little dog that wanted to help the gum, but it

8 OLE LUCKOIE.

could not ! And besides this, Yalmar's copy-book
was crying out sadly ! All the way down each page
stood a row of great letters, each with a little one by
its side ; these were the copy ; and then there stood
other letters, which fancied that they looked like the
copy ; and these Yalmar had written ; but they were
some one way and some another, just as if they were
tumbling over the pencil-lines on which they ought to
have stood.

" Look, you should hold yourselves up — thus !"
said the copy; " thus, all in a line, with a brisk air !"

" Oh ! we would so gladly, if we could," said
Yalmar's writing ; " but we cannot, we are so miser-
able !"

" Then we will make you !" said Ole Luckoie
gruffly.

" Oh, no !" cried the poor little crooked letters ;
but for all that they straightened themselves, till it
was quite a pleasure to see them.

" Now, then, cannot we tell a story ?" said Ole
Luckoie ; " now I can exercise them ! One, two !
One, two !" And so, like a drill-sergeant, he put
them all through their exercise, and they stood as

OLE LUCKOIE.

straight and as well-shaped as any copy. After that
Ole Luckoie went his way ; and Yalmar, when he
looked at the letters next morning, found them tum-
bling about just as miserably as at first.

TUESDAY.

No sooner was Yalmar in bed than Ole Luckoie
came with his little wand, and touched all the furni-
ture in the room ; and, in a minute, every thing began
to chatter ; and they chattered all together, and about
nothing but themselves. Every thing talked except
the old door-mat, which lay silent, and was vexed
that they should be all so full of vanity as to talk of
nothing but themselves, and think only about them-
selves, and never have one thought for it which lay
so modestly in a corner and let itself be trodden
upon.

There hung over the chest of drawers a great pic-
ture in a gilt frame ; it was a landscape ; one could
see tall, old trees, flowers in the grass, and a great
river, which ran through great woods, past many
castles out into the wild sea.

10 OLE LUCKOIE.

Ole Luckoie touched the picture with his wand ;
and with that the birds in the picture began to sing,
the tree-branches began to wave, and the clouds reg-
ularly to move, — one could see them moving along
over the landscape !

Ole Luckoie now lifted little Yalmar up into the
picture ; he put his little legs right into it, just as if
into tall grass, and there he stood. The sun shone
down through the tree-branches upon him. He ran
down to the river, and got into a little boat which lay
there. It was painted red and white, the sails shone
like silk, and six swans, each with a circlet of gold
round its neck and a beaming blue star upon its head,
drew the little boat past the green wood, — where he
heard the trees talking about robbers, and witches,
and flowers, and the pretty little fairies, and all that
the summer birds had told them of.

The loveliest fishes, with scales like silver and
gold, swam after the boat, and leaped up in the
water ; and birds, some red and some blue, small and
great, flew, in two long rows, behind ; gnats danced
about, and cockchafers said hum, hum ! They all

OLE LUCKOIE. 11

came following Yalmar, and you may think what a
deal they had to tell him.

It was a regular voyage ! Now the woods were
so thick and so dark — now they were like the most
beautiful garden, with sunshine and flowers ; and in
the midst of them there stood great castles of glass
and of marble. Upon the balconies of these castles
stood princesses, and every one of them were the
little girls whom Yalmar knew very well, and with
whom he had played. They all reached out their
hands to him, and held out the most delicious sticks
of barley-sugar which any confectioner could make ;
and Yalmar bit off a piece from every stick of bar-
ley-sugar as he sailed past, and Yalmar's piece was
always a very large piece ! Before every castle
stood little princes as sentinels ; they stood with their
golden swords drawn, and showered down almonds
and raisins. They were perfect princes !

Yalmar soon sailed through the wood, then through
a great hall, or into the midst of a city ; and at last
he came to that in which his nurse lived, she who had
nursed him when he was a very little child, and had
been so very fond of him. And there he saw her,

12 OLE LTJCKOIE.

and she nodded and waved her hand to him, and sang
the pretty little verse which she herself had made
about Yalmar —

Full many a time I thee have missed,

My Yalmar, my delight !
I, who thy cherry-mouth have kissed,

Thy rosy cheeks, thy forehead white !
I saw thy earliest infant mirth —

I now must say farewell !
May our dear Lord bless thee on earth,

Then take thee to his heaven to dwell !

And all the birds sang, too, the flowers danced
upon their stems, and the old trees nodded like as
Ole-Luckoie did while he told his tales.

WEDNESDAY.

How the rain did pour down ! Yalmar could hear
it in his sleep ! and when Ole Luckoie opened the
casement, the water stood up to the very window-
sill. There was a regular sea outside ; but the most
splendid ship lay close up to the house.

" If thou wilt sail with me, little Yalmar,* said Ole

OLE LUCKOIE. 13

Luckoie, " thou canst reach foreign countries in the
night, and be here again by to-morrow morning !"

And with this Yalrnar stood in his Sunday clothes
in the ship, and immediately the weather became
fine, and they sailed through the streets, tacked about
round the church, and then came out into a great,
desolate lake. They sailed so far, that at last they
could see no more land, and then they saw a flock of
storks, which were coming from home, on their way
to the warm countries ; one stork after another flew
on, and they had already flown such a long, long way.
One of the storks was so very much tired that it
seemed as if his wings could not support him any
longer ; he was the very last of all the flock, and got
farther and farther behind them ; arid, at last, he sank
lower and lower, with his outspread wings : he still
flapped his wings, now and then, but that did not
help him ; now his feet touched the cordage of the
ship ; now he glided down the sail, and, bounce !
down he came on the deck.

A sailor-boy then took him up, and set him in the
hencoop among hens, and ducks, and turkeys. The
poor stork stood quite confounded among them all.

14 OLE LUCKOIE.

" Here's a thing !" said all the hens.

And the turkey-cock blew himself up as much as
ever he could, and asked the stork who he was ; and
the ducks they went on jostling one against the other,
saying, " Do thou ask ! do thou ask !'

The stork told them all about the warm Africa,
about the pyramids, and about the simoom, which
sped like a horse over the desert : but the ducks
understood not a word about what he said, and so
they whispered one to the other, " We are all agreed,
he is silly !"

"Yes, to be sure, he is silly," said the turkey-cock
aloud. The poor stork stood quite still, and thought
about Africa.

"What a pair of beautiful thin legs you have got !"
said the turkey-cock ; "what is the price by the yard ?"

" Ha ! ha ! ha !" laughed all the ducks ; but the
stork pretended that he did not hear.

" I cannot help laughing," said the turkey-cock,
" it was so very witty ; or, perhaps, it was too low
for him ! — ha ! ha ! he can't take in many ideas ! Let
us only be interesting to ourselves !" And with that
they began to gobble, and the ducks chattered,

OLE LUCKOIE. 15

" Gik, gak ! gik, gak !'* It was amazing to see how
entertaining they were to themselves.

Yalmar, however, went up to the hencoop, opened
the door, and called to the stork, which hopped out to
him on the deck. It had now rested itself ; and it
seemed as if it nodded to Yalmar to thank him.
With this it spread out its wings and flew away to
its warm countries ; but the hens clucked, the ducks
chattered, and the turkey-cocks grew quite red in the
head.

" To-morrow we shall have you for dinner !" said
Yalmar ; and so he awoke, and was lying in his
little bed.

It was, however, a wonderful voyage that Ole
Luckoie had taken him that night.

THURSDAY.

" Dost thou know what ?" said Ole Luckoie.
" Now do not be afraid, and thou shalt see a little
mouse !" and with that he held out his hand with
the pretty little creature in it.

' It is come to invite thee to a wedding," said he.
" There are two little mice who are going to be mar-

16 OLE LUCKOIE.

ried to-night ; they live down under the floor of thy
mother's store-closet ; it will be such a nice oppor-
tunity for thee."

" But how can I get through the little mouse-hole
in the floor ?" asked Yalmar.

" Leave that to me," said Ole Luckoie ; " I shall
make thee little enough !" And with that he touched
Yalmar with his wand, and immediately he grew
less and less, until at last he was no bigger than my
finger.

" Now thou canst borrow the tin-soldier's clothes,"
said Ole Luckoie ; "I think they would fit thee, and it
looks so proper to have uniform on when people go
into company."

'Yes, to be sure !" said Yalmar ; and in a moment
he was dressed up like the most beautiful new tin-
soldier.

: Will you be so good as to seat yourself in your
mother's thimble," said the little mouse ; " and then
I shall have the honor of driving you !"

" Goodness !" said Yalmar ; " will the young lady
herself take the trouble ?" and with that they drove
to the mouse's wedding.

OLE LUCKOIE. 17

First of all, after going under the floor, they came
into a long passage, which was so low that they could
hardly drive in the thimble, and the whole passage
was illuminated with touchwood.

" Does it not smell delicious ?" said the mouse as
they drove along ; " the whole passage has been
rubbed with bacon -sward ; nothing can be more
delicious !"

They now came into the wedding-hall. On the
right hand stood the little she-mice, and they all
whispered and tittered as if they were making fun of
one another ; on the left hand all the he-mice, and
stroked their mustachios with their paws. In the
middle of the floor were to be seen the bridal pair,
who stood in a hollow cheese-paring ; and they kept
kissing one another before everybody, for they were
desperately in love, and were going to be married
directly.

And all this time there kept coming in more and
more strangers, till one mouse was ready to trample
another to death ; and the bridal pair had placed
themselves in a doorway, so that people could neither
go in nor come out. The whole room, like the pas-

2

IS OLE LUCKOIE.

sage, had been smeared with sward of bacon ; that
was all the entertainment : but as a dessert a pea
was produced, on which a little mouse of family had
bitten the name of the bridal pair, — that is to say, the
first letters of their name ; that was something quite
out of the common way.

All the mice said that it was a charming wedding,
and that the conversation had been so good !

Yalmar drove home again ; he had really been in
very grand society, but he must have been regularly
squeezed together to make himself small enough for
a tin-soldier's uniform.

FRIDAY.

"It is incredible how many elderly people there
are who would be so glad of me," said Ole Luckoie,
" especially those who have done any thing wrong.
* Good little Ole,' say they to me, * we cannot close
our eyes ; and so we lie all night long awake, and
gee all our bad deeds, which sit, like ugly little imps,
on the bed's head, and squirt hot water on us. Wilt
thou only just come and drive them away, that we

OLE LUCKOIE. 19

may have a good sleep !' and with that they heave
such deep sighs — ' we would so gladly pay thee ;
good-night, Ole !' Silver pennies lie for me in the
window," said Ole Luckoie, " but I do not give sleep
for money !"

" Now what shall we have to-night ?" inquired
Yalmar.

" I do not know whether thou hast any desire to
go again to-night to a wedding," said Ole Luckoie ;
" but it is of a different kind to that of last night.
Thy sister's great doll, which is dressed like a gen-
tleman, and is called Herman, is going to be married
to the doll Bertha ; besides, it is the doll's birthday,
and therefore there will be a great many presents
made."

" Yes, I know," said Yalmar ; " always, whenever
the dolls have new clothes, my sister entreats that
they have a birthday or a wedding ; that has hap-
pened certainly a hundred times !"

" Yes, but to-night it is the hundred and first wed-
ding, and when a hundred and one is done then all is
over ! Therefore it will be incomparably grand.
Only look !"

20 OLE LUCKOIE.

Yalmar looked at the table ; there stood the little
doll's house with lights in the windows, and all the
tin soldiers presented arms outside. The bridal
couple sat upon the floor, and leaned against the
table-legs, and looked very pensive, and there might
be reason for it. But Ole Luckoie, dressed in the
grandmother's black petticoat, married them, and
when they were married, all the furniture in the
room joined in the following song, which was writ-
ten in pencil, and which was sung to the tune of the
drum : —

Our song like a wind comes flitting

Into the room where the bride-folks are sitting ;

They are partly of wood, as is befitting :

Their skin is the skin of a glove well fitting!

Hurrah, hurrah ! for sitting and fitting !

Thus sing we aloud as the wind comes flitting !

And now the presents were brought, but they had
forbidden any kind of eatables, Tor their love was suf-
ficient for them.

" Shall we stay in the country, or shall we travel
into foreign parts ?" asked the bridegroom ; and with
that they begged the advice of the breeze, which had

OLE LUCKOIE. 21

travelled a great deal, and of the old hen, which had
had five broods of chickens. The breeze told them
about the beautiful, warm countries where the bunch-
es of grapes hung so large and so heavy ; where the
air was so mild, and the mountains had colors of
which one could have no idea " in this country."

" But there they have not our green cabbage !"
said the hen. " I lived for one summer with all my
chickens in the country ; there was a dry, dusty ditch
in which we could go and scuttle, and we had admit-
tance to a garden where there was green cabbage !
O, how green it was ! I cannot fancy any thing more
beautiful !"

" But one cabbage-stalk looks just like another,"
said the breeze ; " and then there is such wretched
weather here."

" Yes, but one gets used to it," said the hen.

" But it is cold — it freezes !"

" That is good for the cabbage !" said the hen.
" Besides, we also have it warm. Had not we four
years ago a summer which lasted five weeks, and it
was so hot that people did not know how to bear it ?
And then we have not all the poisonous creatures which

22 OLE LUCKOIE.

they have there ! and we are far from robbers. He
is a good-for-nothing fellow who does not think our
country the most beautiful in the world ! and he does
not deserve to be here !" and with that the hen cried.
— " And I also have travelled," continued she ; " I
have gone in a boat above twelve miles ; there is no
pleasure in travelling."

" The hen is a sensible body !" said the doll Ber-
tha ; "I would rather not travel to the mountains, for
it is only going up to come down again. No ! we
will go down into the ditch, and walk in the cabbage-
garden."

And so they did.

SATURDAY.

" Shall I have any stories ?" said little Yalmar, as
soon as Ole Luckoie had put him to sleep.

" In the evening we have no time for any," said
Ole, and spread out his most beautiful umbrella above
his head. " Look now at this Chinese scene !" and
with that the whole inside of the umbrella looked like
a great china saucer, with blue trees and pointed

OLE LUCKOIE.

bridges, on which stood little Chinese, who stood and
nodded with their heads. " We shall have all the
world dressed up beautifully this morning," said Ole,
" for it is really a holiday ; it is Sunday. I shall go
up into the church towers to see whether the little
church-elves polish the bells, because they sound so
sweetly. I shall go out into the market, and see
whether the wind blows the dust, and grass, and
leaves, and what is the hardest work there. I shall
have all the stars down to polish them ; I shall put
them into my apron, but first of all I must have them
all numbered, and the holes where they fit up there
numbered also ; else we shall never put them into
their proper places again, and then they will not be
firm, and we shall have so many falling stars, one
dropping down after another !"

" Hear, you Mr. Luckoie, there !" said an old por-
trait that hung on the wall of the room where Yalmar
slept : " I am Yalmar's grandfather. We are obliged
to you for telling the boy pretty stories, but you must
not go and confuse his ideas. The stars cannot be
taken down and polished ! The stars are globes like
our earth, and they want nothing doing at them !"

24 OLE LUCKOIE.

" Thou shall have thanks, thou old grandfather,"
said Ole Luckoie ; " thanks thou shalt have ! Thou
art, to be sure, the head of the family ; thou art the
old head of the family ; but for all that, I am older
than thou ! I am an old heathen ; the Greeks and
the Romans called me the god of dreams. I go into
great folks' houses, and I shall go there still. I know
how to manage both with young and old. But now
thou mayst take thy turn." And with this Ole
Luckoie went away, and took his umbrella with him.

" Now, one cannot tell what he means !" said the
old Portrait.

And Yalmar awoke.

SUNDAY.

" Good-evening !" said Ole Luckoie, and Yalmar
nodded ; but he jumped up and turned the grand-
father's portrait to the wall, that it might not chatter
as it had done the night before.

" Now thou shalt tell me a story," said Yalmar,
" about the five peas that live in one pea-pod, and
about Hanebeen who cured Honebeen ; and about

OLE LUCKOIE. 25

the darning-needle, that was so fine that it fancied it-
self a sewing-needle."

" One might do a deal of good by so doing," said
Ole Luckoie ; " but, dost thou know, I would rather
show thee something. I will show thee my brother ;
he also is caled Ole Luckoie. He never comes more
than once to anybody, — and when he comes he takes
the person away with him on his horse, and tells him
a great and wonderful history. But he only knows
two, one of them is the most incomparably beautiful
story, so beautiful that nobody in the world can im-
agine it ; and the other is so dismal and sad — oh, it
is impossible to describe how sad !"

Having said this, Ole Luckoie lifted little Yalmar
up to the window and said, " There thou mayst see
my brother, the other Ole Luckoie ! They call him
Death ! Dost thou see, he does not look horrible as
they have painted him in picture-books, like a skele-
ton ; no, his coat is embroidered with silver ; he wears
a handsome Huzzar uniform ! A cloak of black vel-
vet flies behind, over his horse. See how he gal-
lops !"

Yalmar looked, and saw how the other Ole Luckoie

26 OLE LUCKOIE.

rode along, and took both young and old people with
him on his horse. Some he set before him, and some
he set behind ; but his first question always was,
" How does it stand in your character-book?"

Everybody said, " Good !"

" Yes ! let me see myself," said he ; and they were
obliged to show him their books : and all those in
whose books were written, " Very good !" or " Re-
markably good !" he placed before him on his horse ;
and they listened to the beautiful story that he could
tell. But they in whose books was written, " Not
very good," or " Only middling," they had to sit be-
hind and listen to the dismal tale. These wept bit-
terly, and would have been glad to have got away,
that they might have amended their characters ; but
it was then too late.

"Death is, after all, the most beautiful Ole
Luckoie," said Yalmar ; "I shall not be afraid of
him."

" Thou need not fear him," said Ole Luckoie,
" if thou only take care and have a good character-
book."

" There is instruction in that," mumbled the old

OLE LUCKOIE. 27

grandfather's portrait ; " that is better : one sees his
meaning !" and he was pleased.

See, this is the story about Ole Luckoie. This
night, perhaps, he may tell thee some others.

THE DAISY.

Now thou shall hear ! — Out in the country, close
by the high road, there stood a pleasure-house, —
thou hast, no doubt, seen it thyself. In the front is
a little garden full of flowers, and this is fenced in
with painted palisades. Close beside these, in a
hollow, there grew, all among the loveliest green
grass, a little tuft of daisies. The sun shone upon it
just as warmly and as sweetly as upon the large and
rich splendid flowers within the garden, and, there-
fore, it grew hour by hour. One morning it opened
its little shining white flower-leaves, which looked
just like rays of light all round the little yellow sun
in the inside. It never once thought that nobody saw
it down there in the grass, and that it was a poor,
despised flower ! No, nothing of the kind ! It was

THE DAISY. 29

so very happy ; turned itself round towards the warm
sun, looked up, and listened to the lark which sang
in the blue air.

The little daisy was as happy as if it had been
some great holiday, and yet it was only a Monday.
All the children were in school, and while they sat
upon the benches learning their lessons, it also sat
upon its little green stalk, and learned from the warm
sun and from every thing around it, how good God
is. And it seemed to it quite right that the little lark
sang so intelligibly and so beautifully every thing
which it felt in stillness ; and it looked up with a
sort of reverence to the happy bird, which could sing
and fly, but it was not at all vexed because it could
not do the same.

" I. see it and hear it," thought the daisy ; " the
sun shines upon me, and the winds kiss me ! 0, what
a many gifts I enjoy !"

Inside the garden paling there were such a great
many stiff, grand flowers ; and all the less fragrance
they had the more they seemed to swell themselves
out. The pionies blew themselves out that they
might be bigger than the roses ; but it is not size

30 THE DAISY.

which does every thing. The tulips had the most
splendid colors, and they knew it too, and held them-
selves so upright on purpose that people should see
them all the better. They never paid the least at-
tention to the little daisy outside, but it looked at
them all the more, and thought, " How rich they are,
and how beautiful ! Yes, to be sure, the charming
bird up there must fly down and pay them a visit.
Thank God ! that I am so near that I can see all the
glory !" And while she was thinking these thoughts
— " Quirrevit !" down came the lark flying, — but not
down to the pionies and the tulips : no ! but down
into the grass to the poor little daisy ; which was so
astonished by pure joy, that it did not know what it
should think.

The little bird danced round about, and sang, " Nay,
but the grass is in flower ! and see, what a sweet little
blossom, with a golden heart and a silver jerkin on !"
— for the yellow middle of the daisy looked as if it
were of gold, and the little leaves round about were
shining and silver white.

So happy as the little daisy was it is quite impos-
sible to describe ! The bird kissed it with its beak,

THE DAISY. 31

sang before it, and then flew up again into the blue
air. It required a whole quarter of an hour before
the daisy could come to itself again. Half bashfully,
and yet with inward delight, it looked into the garden
to the other flowers ; they had actually seen the honor
and the felicity which she had enjoyed ; they could
certainly understand, she thought, what a happiness
it was. But the tulips stood yet just as stiffly as be-
fore, and their faces were so peaked and so red ! —
for they were quite vexed. The pionies were quite
thick-headed, too ! it was a good thing that they could
not talk, or else the daisy would have been regularly
scolded. The poor little flower, however, could see
very plainly that they were not in a good humor, and
that really distressed her. At that very moment there
came a girl into the garden with a great knife in her
hand, which was very sharp and shining, and she
went all among the tulips, and she cut off first one
and then another.

" Ah !" sighed the little daisy, " that was very hor-
rible ; now all is over with them !"

So the girl went away with the tulips. The daisy
was glad that it grew in the grass, and was a little

32 THE DAISY.

mean flower; it felt full of gratitude, and when
the sun set, it folded its leaves, slept, and dreamed
the whole night long about the sun and the little
bird.

Next morning, the flower again, full of joy, spread
out all its white leaves, like small arms, towards the
air and the light ; it recognised the bird's voice ; but
the song of the bird was very sorrowful. Yes, the
poor little bird had good reason for being sad ! it had
been taken prisoner, and now sat in a cage close by
the open window of the pleasure-house. It sang
about flying, wherever it would in freedom and bliss ;
i-t sang about the young green corn in the fields, and
about the charming j mrneys which it used to make
up in the blue air upon its hovering wings. The
poor bird was heavy at heart, and was captive in a
cage.

The little daisy wished so sincerely that it could
be of any service ; but it was difficult to tell how.
In sympathizing with the lark, the daisy quite forgot
how beautiful was every thing around it — how warmly
the sun shone, and how beautifully white were its own
flower-leaves. Ah ! it could think of nothing but of

THE DAISY. 33

the captive bird, for which it was not able to do any
thing.

Just then came two little boys out of the gar-
den ; one of them had a knife in his hand, large and
sharp, like that which the girl had, and with which
she cut off the tulips. They went straight up to
the little daisy, which could not think what they
wanted.

' Here we can get a beautiful grass turf for the
lark," said one of the boys ; and began deeply to cut
out a square around the daisy-root, so that it was just
in the middle of the turf.

* Break off the flower T said the other boy ; and
the daisy trembled for very fear of being broken
off, and thus losing its life ; when it would so gladly
live and go with the turf into the cage of the captive
lark.

" Nay, let it be where it is !" said the other boy ;
" it makes it look so pretty !"

And so it was left there, and was taken into the
cage to the lark.

But the poor bird made loud lamentations over its
lost freedom, and struck the wires of the cage with

a

34 THE DAISY.

its wings. The little daisy could not speak, could
not say one consoling word, however gladly it would
have done so. Thus passed the forenoon.

" There is no water here," said the captive lark ;
" they are all gone out, and have forgotten to give me
a drop to drink ! my throat is dry and burning ! it is
fire and ice within me, and the air is so heavy ! Ah •
I shall die away from the warm sunshine, from the
fresh green leaves, from all the glorious things which
God has created !" and with that it bored its little
beak down into the cool turf to refresh itself a little.
At that moment it caught sight of the daisy, nodded
to it, kissed it with its beak, and said, " Thou also
must wither here, thou poor little flower ! Thou and
the little plot of grass, which they have given me for
the whole world which I had out there ! Every little
blade of grass may be to me a green tree, every one
of thy little white leaves a fragrant flower ! ' Ah ! you
only tell me how much I have lost !"

" Ah ! who can comfort him !" thought the daisy,
but could not move a leaf; and yet the fragrance
which was given forth from its delicate petals was
much sweeter than is usual in such flowers. The

THE DAISY. 35

bird remarked this, and when, overcome by the ago-
ny of thirst and misery, it tore up every green blade
of grass, it touched not the little flower.

Evening came, and yet no one brought a single
drop of water to the poor bird. It stretched out its
beautiful wings, fluttered them convulsively, and its
song was a melancholy wailing ; its little head bowed
down towards the flower, and its heart broke from
thirst and longing. The little flower knew this not ;
before the evening was ended, it had folded its petals
together and slept upon the earth, overcome with
sickness and sorrow.

Not until the next morning came the boys, and
when they saw that the bird was dead they wept,
wept many tears, and dug for it a handsome grave,
which they adorned with leaves of flowers. The
corpse of the bird was laid in a beautiful red box. It
was to be buried royally, the poor bird ! which, when
full of life and singing its glorious song, they for-
got, and let it pine in a cage, and suffer thirst — and
now they did him honor, and shed many tears over
him!

But the sod of grass with the daisy, that they

36 THE DAISY.

threw out into the dust of the highway ; no one
thought about it, though it had felt more than any
of them for the little bird, and would so gladly have
comforted it.

THE NAUGHTY BOY.

THERE was once upon a time an old poet, such a
really good old poet ! One evening, he sat at home
— it was dreadful weather out of doors — the rain
poured down ; but the old poet sat so comfortably,
and in such a good humor, beside his stove, where
the fire was burning brightly, and his apples were
merrily roasting.

" There will not be a dry thread on the poor souls
who are out in this weather !" said he ; for he was
such a good old poet.

" O let me in ! I am freezing, and I am so wet !"
cried the voice of a little child outside. It cried and
knocked at the door, \vhile the rain kept pouring
down, and the wind rattled at all the windows.

" Poor little soul !" said the old poet, and got up to

38 THE NAUGHTY BOY.

open the door. There stood a little boy ; he had not
any clothes on, and the rain ran off from his long yel-
low hair. He shook with the cold ; if he had not
been taken in, he would most surely have died of that
bad weather.

" Thou poor little soul !" said the kind old poet,
and took him by the hand; "come in, and I will
warm thee ! and thou shalt have some wine, and
a nice roasted apple, for thou art a pretty little
boy!"

And so he was. His eyes were like two bright
stars, and, although the water ran down from his yel-
low hair, yet it curled so beautifully. He looked just
like a little angel ; but he was pale with the cold, and
his little body trembled all over. In his hand he car-
ried a pretty little bow ; bat it was quite spoiled with
the rain, and all the colors of his beautiful little ar-
rows ran one into another with the wet.

The good old poet seated himself by the stove, and
took the little boy upon his knee ; he wrung the rain
out of his hair, warmed his little hands in his, and
made some sweet wine warm for him ; by this
means the rosy color came back into his cheeks, he

THE NAUGHTY BOY. 39

jumped down upon the floor, and danced round and
round the old poet.

" Thou art a merry lad," said the poet ; " what is
thy name ?"

" They call me Love," replied the boy ; " dost thou
riot know me ? There lies my bow ; I shoot with it,
thou mayst believe ! See, now, the weather clears up ;
the moon shines !"

" But thy bow is spoiled," said the old poet.

" That would be sad !" said the little boy, and took
it up to see if it were. " Oh, it is quite dry," said
he ; " it is not hurt at all ! The string is quite firm :
now I will try it !"

And with that he strung it, laid an arrow upon it,
took his aim, and shot the good old poet right through
the heart !

" Thou canst now see that my bow is not spoiled !"
said he ; and laughing as loud as he could, ran away.
What a naughty boy ! to shoot the good old poet who
had taken him into the warm room ; who had been
so kind to him, and given him nice wine to drink, and
the very best of his roasted apples !

The poor poet lay upon the floor and wept, for he

40 THE NAUGHTY BOY.

was actually shot through the heart, and he said,
" Fy ! what a naughty boy that Love is ! I will tell
all good little children about him, that they may drive
him away before he makes them some bad return !"

All good children, boys and girls, to whom he told
this, drove away that naughty little lad ; but for all
that he has made fools of them all, for he is so artful !
When students go from their lectures, he walks by
their side with a book under his arm, and they fancy
that he too is a student, and so he runs an arrow into
their breasts. When young girls go to church, and
when they stand in the aisle of the church, he too
has followed them. Yes, he is always following
people !

He sits in the great chandelier in the theatre, and
burns with a bright flame, and so people think he is
a lamp, but afterwards they find something else ! He
runs about the king's garden, and on the bowling-
green ! Yes ! he once shot thy father and mother
through the heart ! Ask them about it, and then thou
wilt hear what they say. Yes, indeed, he is a bad
boy, that Love ; do thou never have any thing to do
with him ! — he is always running after people ! Only

THE NAUGHTY BOY. 41

think ! once upon a time, he even shot an arrow at
thy good old grandmother ! — but that is a long time
ago, and it is past. But thus it is, he never forgets
anybody !

Fy, for shame, naughty Love ! But now thou
knowest him, and knowest what a bad boy he is !

TOMMELISE.

ONCE upon a time, a beggar woman went to the
house of a poor peasant, and asked for something to
eat. The peasant's wife gave her some bread and
milk. When she had eaten it, she took a barley-
corn out of her pocket, and said — " This will I give
thee ; set it in a flower-pot, and see what will come
out of it."

The woman set the barley-corn in an old flower-
pot, and the next day the most beautiful plant had
shot up, which looked just like a tulip, but the
leaves were shut close together, as if it still were
in bud.

" What a pretty flower it is !" said the woman, and
kissed the small red and yellow leaves ; and just as
she had kissed them, the flower gave a great crack,

TOMMELISE. 43

and opened itself. It was a real tulip, only one could
see that in the middle of the flower there sat upon
the pointal a little tiny girl, so delicate and lovely,
and not half so big as my thumb, and, therefore, the
woman called her Tommelise.

A pretty polished walnut-shell was her cradle, blue
violet leaves were her mattress, and a rose leaf was
her coverlet ; here she slept at night, but in the day
she played upon the table, where the woman had set
a plate, around which she placed quite a garland
of flowers, the stalks of which were put in water.
A large tulip-leaf floated on the water. Tommelise
seated herself on this, and sailed from one end of the
plate to the other ; she had t\vo white horse-hairs to
row her little boat with. It looked quite lovely ; and
then she sang — Oh ! so beautifully, as nobody ever
had heard !

One night, as she lay in her nice little bed, there
came a fat, yellow frog hopping in at the window, in
which there was a broken pane. The frog was very
large and heayy, but it hopped easily on the table
where Tommelise lay and slept under the red rose
leaf.

44 TOMMELISE.

" This would be a beautiful wife for my son !"
said the frog ; and so she took up the walnut-shell in
which Tommelise lay, and hopped away with it,
through the broken pane, down into the garden.

Here there ran a large, broad river ; but just at its
banks it was marshy and muddy : the frog lived here,
with her son. Uh ! he also was all spotted with green
and yellow, and was very like his mother. " Koax,
koax, brekke-ke-kex !" that was all that he could say
when he saw the pretty little maiden in the walnut-
shell.

" Don't make such a noise, or else you will waken
her," said the old frog ; " and if you frighten her, she
may run away from us, for she is as light as swan's
down ! We will take her out on the river, and set
her on a waterlily leaf ; to her who is so light, it will
'be like an island ; she cannot get away from us there,
and we will then go and get ready the house in the
mud, where you two shall live together."

There grew a great many waterlilies in the river,
with their broad green leaves, which seemed to float
upon the water. The old frog swam to the leaf which
was the farthest out in the river, and which was the

TOMMELISE. 45

largest also, and there she set the walnut-shell, with
little Tommelise.

The poor little tiny thing awoke quite early in the
morning, and when she saw where she was she began
to cry bitterly, for there was water on every side of
the large green leaf, and she could not get to land.

The old frog sat down in the mud, and decked her
house with sedge and yellow water-reeds, that it
might be regularly beautiful when her new daughter-
in-law came. After this was done, she and her fat
son s\vam away to the lily leaf, where Tommelise
stood, that they might fetch her pretty little bed, and
so have every thing ready before she herself came to
the house.

The old frog courtesied to her in the water, and
said, — " Allow me to introduce my son to you, who
is to be your husband, and you shall live together,
charmingly, down in the mud !"

" Koax, koax, brekke-ke-kex !" that was ull that
the son could say.

So they took the pretty little bed, and swairTaway
with it ; but Tommelise sat, quite alone, and wept,
upon the green leaf, for she did not wish to live with

46 TOMMELISE.

the queer-looking, yellow frog, nor to have her ugly
son for her husband. The little fishes which swam
down in the water had seen the frog, and had heard
what she said ; they put up, therefore, their heads, to
look at the little girl. The moment they saw her
they thought her very pretty ; and they felt very
sorry that she should have to go down into the mud
and live with the frog. No, never should it 'be!
They therefore went down into the water in a great
shoal, and gathered round the green stalk of the leaf
upon which she stood ; they gnawed the stalk in two
with their teeth, and thus the leaf floated down the
river. Slowly and quietly it floated away, a long
way off, where the frog could not come to it.

Tommelise sailed past a great many places, and
the little birds sat in the bushes, looked at her, and
sang, — "What a pretty little maiden !" The leaf on
which she stood floated away farther and farther,
and, at last, she came to a foreign land.

A pretty little white butterfly stayed with her, and
flew round about her, and, at length, seated itself
upon the leaf ; for it knew little Tommelise so well *
and she was so pleased, for she knew that now the

TOMMELISE. 47

frog could not come near her, and the land to which
she had come was very beautiful. The sun shone
upon the water, and it was like the most lovely gold.
She took off her girdle, therefore, and bound one end
of it to the butterfly, and the other end of it to the
leaf, and thus she glided on more swiftly than ever,
and she stood upon the leaf as it went.

As she was thus sailing on charmingly, a large
stag-beetle came flying towards her ; it paused for a
moment to look at her, then clasped its claws around
her slender waist, and flew up into a tree with her,
but the green lily leaf floated down the stream, and
the white butterfly with it, because it was fastened
to it, and could not get loose.

Poor Tommelise ! how frightened she was when
the stag-beetle flew away with her up into the tree !
but she was most of all distressed for the lovely
white butterfly which she had fastened to the leaf.
But that did not trouble the stag-beetle at all. It
seated itself upon one of the largest green leaves of
the tree, gave her the honey of the flowers to eat,
and said that she was very pretty, although she was
not at all like a stag-beetle. Before long, all the

48 TOMMELISE.

other stag-beetles that lived in the tree came to pay
her a visit ; they looked at Tommelise ; and the
misses stag-beetle, they examined her with their
antennas, and said, — "Why, she has only two legs,
that is very extraordinary !" " She has no antennae !"
said the others. "She has such a thin body! Why
she looks just like a human being !" " How ugly
she is !" said all the lady stag-beetles ; and yet
Tommelise was exceedingly pretty.

The stag-beetle which had carried her away had
thought so himself, at first; but now, as all the others
said that she was ugly, he fancied, at last, that she
was so, and would not have her, and she could now
go where she would. They flew down with her out
of the tree, and set her upon a daisy. Here she
wept, because she was so ugly, and the stag-beetles
would have nothing to do with her ; and yet she
really was so very lovely as nobody could imagine,
as delicate and bright as the most beautiful rose-leaf !

Poor Tommelise lived all that long summer, though
quite alone, in the great wood. She wove herself a
bed of grass, and hung it under a large plantain leaf,
so that the rain could not come to her ; she fed from

TOMMELISE. 49

the honey of the flowers, and drank of the dew which
stood in glittering drops every morning on the grass.
Thus passed the summer and the autumn ; hut now
came winter, the cold, long winter. All the birds
which had sung so sweetly to her were flown away ;
the trees and the flowers withered ; the large plantain
leaf under which she had dwelt shrunk together, and
became nothing but a dry, yellow7 stalk; and she was
so cold, for her clothes were in rags ; and she her-
self was so delicate and small ! — poor Tommelise,
she was almost frozen to death ! It began to snow,
and every snow-flake which fell upon her was just
as if a whole drawer-full had been thrown upon us,
for we are strong, and she wras so very, very small !
She crept, therefore, into a withered leaf, but that
could not keep her warm ; she shook with the cold.
Close beside the wood in which she now was, lay
a large cornfield ; but the com had long been car-
ried ; nothing remained but dry stubble, which stood
up on the frozen ground. It was, to her, like going
into a bare wood — Oh ! how she shivered with cold !
Before long she came to the fieldmouse's door. The

o

fieldmouse had a little cave down below the roots of

4

50 TOMMELISE.

the corn-stubble, and here she dwelt warm and com-
fortable, and had whole rooms full of corn, and a
beautiful kitchen and a store-closet. Poor Tomme-
lise stood before the door, like any other little beggar-
child, and prayed for a little bit of a barley-corn, for
she had now been two whole days without having
eaten the least morsel.

" Thou poor little thing !" said the fieldmouse, for
she was at heart a good old fieldmouse ; "come into
my warm parlor, and have a bit of dinner with me."

How kind that seemed to Tommelise !

" Thou canst stop with me the whole winter," said
the old fieldmouse; "but then thou must be my
little maid, and keep my parlor neat and clean, and
tell me tales to amuse me, for I am very fond of
them !" And Tommelise did all that the good old
fieldmouse desired of her, and was very comfortable.

" Before long we shall have a visitor," said the
field-mouse, soon after Tommelise was settled in her
place ; "my neighbor is accustomed to visit me once
a week. He is much better off in the world than I
am ; he has a large house, and always wears such a
splendid velvet dress ! If thou couldst only manage

TOMMELISE. 51

to get him for thy husband, thou wouldst be lucky, -
but then he is blind. Thou canst tell him the ver^
prettiest story thou knowest."

But Tornmelise gave herself no trouble about hirr«;
she did not wish to have the neighbor, for he was only
a mole. He came and paid his visits in his I/lack
velvet dress ; he was very rich and learned, tb-^ field-
mouse said, and his dwelling-house was twer y times
larger than hers; and he had such a deal of earning,
although he made but little of the SUP and the
beautiful flowers ; he laughed at them ; bv i then he
had never seen them !

The fieldmouse insisted on Tommelise singing, so
she sang. She sang both " Fly, stag-beetle, fly !"
and " The green moss grows by the water side ;"
and the mole fell deeply in love with her, for the
sake of her sweet voice, but he did not say any thing,
for he was a very discreet gentleman.

He had lately dug a long passage through the earth,
between his house and theirs ; and in this he gave
Tommelise and the fieldmouse leave to walk when-
ever they liked. But he told them not to be afraid
of a dead bird which lay in the passage, for it was an

52 TOMMELISE.

entire bird, with feathers and a beak ; which certainly
was dead just lately, at the beginning of winter, and
had been buried exactly where he began his pas-
sage.

The mole took a piece of touchwood in his mouth,
for it shines just like fire in the dark, and went before
them, to light them in the long, dark passage. When
they were come where the dead bird lay, the mole set
his broad nose to the ground, and ploughed up the
earth, so that there was a large hole, through which
the daylight could shine. In the middle of the floor
lay a dead swallow, with its beautiful wrings pressed
close to its sides. Its legs and head were drawn up
under the feathers ; the poor bird had certainly died
of cold. Tommelise was very sorry for it, for she
was so fond of little birds ; they had, through the
whole summer, sung and twittered so beautifully to
her ; but the mole stood beside it, with his short legs,
and said, — " Now it will tweedle no more ! It must
be a shocking thing to be born a little bird ; thank
goodness that none of my children have been such ;
for a bird has nothing at all but its singing ; and it
may be starved to death in winter !"

TOMMELISE. 53

" Yes, that you, who are a sensible man, may well
say," said the fieldmouse ; " what has the bird, with
all its piping and singing, when winter comes ? It
may be famished or frozen !"

Tommelise said nothing ; but when the two others
had turned their backs, she bent over it, stroked aside
the feathers which lay over its head, and kissed its
closed eyes.

" Perhaps it was that same swallow which sang so
sweetly to me in summer," thought she ; " what a
deal of pleasure it caused me, the dear, beautiful
bird!" •-•.;.-•.. -

The mole stopped up the opening which it had
made for the daylight to come in, and accompanied
the ladies home. Tommelise, however, could not
sleep in the night ; so she got up out of bed, and wove
a small, beautiful mat of hay ; and that she carried
down and spread over the dead bird ; laid soft cotton-
wool, which she had found in the fieldmouse's parlor,
around the bird, that it might lie warm in the cold
earth.

" Farewell, thou pretty little bird," said she ; " fare-
well, and thanks for thy beautiful song, in summer,

54 TOMMELISE.

when all the trees were green, and the sun shone so
warmly upon us !"

With this she laid her head upon the bird's breast,
and the same moment was quite amazed, for it seemed
to her as if there were a slight movement within it. It
was the bird's heart. The bird was not dead ; it lay
in a swoon, and now being warmed, it was reani-
mated.

In the autumn all the swallows fly away to the
warm countries ; but if there be one which tarries
behind, it becomes stiff with cold, so that it falls down
as if dead, and the winter's snow covers it.

Tommelise was quite terrified, for in comparison
with her the bird was a very large creature ; but she
took courage, however, laid the cotton-wool closer
around the poor swallow, and fetched a coverlet of
crysanthemum leaves, which she had for her bed, and
laid it over its head.

Next night she listened again, and it was quite
living, but so weak that it could only open its eyes a
very little, and see Tommelise, who stood with a piece
of touchwood in her hand, for other light she had
none.

TOMMELISE. 55

" Thanks thou shall have, thou pretty little child !"
said the sick swallow to her ; "I have been beauti-
fully revived ! I shall soon recover my strength, and
be able to fly again out into the warm sunshine !"

" 0," said she, " it is so cold out-of-doors ! it snows
and freezes ! stop in thy warm bed, and I will nurse
theef '

She brought the swallow water, in a flower-leaf,
and it drank it, and related to her how it had torn one
of its wings upon a thorn-bush, and, therefore, had
not been able to fly so well as the other swallows,
who had flown far, far away, into the warm countries.
It had, at last, fallen down upon the ground; but
more than that it knew not, nor how it had come
there.

During the whole winter it continued down here,
and Tommelise was very kind to it, and became very
fond of it ; but neither the mole nor the fieldmouse
knew any thing about it, for they could not endure
swallows.

As soon as ever spring came, and the sun shone
warm into the earth, the swallow bade farewell to
Tommelise, who opened the hole which the mole had

56 TOMMELISE.

covered up. The sun shone so delightfully down into
it, and the swallow asked whether she would not go
with him ; she might sit upon his back, and he would
fly out with her far into the green-wood. But Tom-
melise knew that it would distress the old fieldmouse
if she thus left her.

" No, I cannot," said Tommelise.

" Farewell, farewell, thou good, sweet little maid-
en !" said the swallow, and flew out into the sun-
shine. Tommelise looked after it, and the tears came
into her eyes, for she was very fond of the swallow,
and she felt quite forlorn now it was gone.

" Quivit ! quivit !" sung the bird, and flew into the
green-wood.

Tommelise was very sorrowful. She could not
obtain leave to go out into the warm sunshine. The
corn which had been sown in the field above the
mouse's dwelling, had grown so high that it was now
like a thick wood to her.

' Now, during this summer, thou shalt get thy
wedding clothes ready," said the fieldmouse to her ;
for the old neighbor, the wealthy mole, had presented
himself as a wooer.

TOMMELISE. 57

" Thou shall have both woollen and linen clothes ;
thou shalt have both table and body linen, if thou
wilt be the mole's wife," said the old fieldmouse.

Tommelise was obliged to sit down and spin ; and
the fieldmouse hired six spiders to spin and weave
both night and day. Every evening the mole came
to pay a visit, and always said that when the summer
was ended, and the sun did not shine so hotly as to
bake the earth to a stone, — yes, when the summer
was over, then he and Tommelise would have a grand
wedding ; but this never gave her any pleasure, for
she did not like the wealthy old gentleman. Every
morning, when the sun rose, and every evening,
when it set, she stole out to the door ; and if the
wind blew the ears of corn aside so that she could
see the blue sky, she thought how bright and beauti-
ful it was out there, and she wished so much that
she could, just once more, see the dear swallow.
But he never came ; he certainly had flown far, far
away from the lovely green-wood.

It was now autumn, and all Tommelise's wedding
things were ready.

" In four weeks thou shalt be married," said the

58 TOMMELISE.

old fieldmouse to her. But Tommelise cried, and
said that she would not have the rich mole.

" Snick, snack!" said the fieldmouse ; "do not go
and be obstinate, else I shall bite thee with my white
teeth ! He is, indeed, a very fine gentleman ! The
queen herself has not got a dress equal to his black
velvet ! He has riches both in kitchen and coffer.
Be thankful that thou canst get such a one !"

So the wedding was fixed. The bridegroom was
already come, in his best black velvet suit, to fetch
away Tommelise. She was to live with him deep
under ground, never to come out into the warm sun-
shine, for that he could not bear. The poor child
was full of sorrow ; she must once more say farewell
to the beautiful sun ; and she begged so hard, that
the fieldmouse gave her leave to go to the door to
do so.

" Farewell, thou bright sun !" said she, and
stretched forth her arms, and went a few paces from
the fieldmouse's door, for the corn was now cut, and
again there was nothing but the dry stubble.

" Farewell ! farewell !" said she, and threw her
small arms around a little red flower which grew

TOMMELISE. 59

there ; " greet the little swallow for me, if thou
chance to see him !"

" Quivit ! quivit !" said the swallow, that very
moment, above her head ; she looked up, there was
the little swallow, which had just come by. As soon
as Tommelise saw it, she was very glad ; she told it
how unwilling she was to marry the rich old mole,
and live so deep underground, where the sun never
shone. She could not help weeping as she told him.

" The cold winter is just at hand," said the little
swallow ; "I am going far away to the warm coun-
tries, wilt thou go with me ? Thou canst sit upon
my back ; bind thyself fast with thy girdle, and so
we will fly away from the rich mole and his dark
parlor, far away over the mountains, to the warm
countries, where the sun shines more beautifully than
here, and where there always is summer, and where
the beautiful flowers are always in bloom. Only fly
away with me, thou sweet little Tommelise, who
didst save my life when I lay frozen in the dark
prison of the earth !"

" Yes, I will go with thee !" said Tommelise, and
seated herself upon the bird's back, with her feet

60 TOMMELISE.

upon one of his outspread wings. She bound her
girdle to one of the strongest of his feathers, and thus
the swallow flew aloft into the air, over wood and
over sea, high up above the great mountains, where
lies the perpetual snow, and Tommelise shivered
with the intensely cold air; but she then crept among
the bird's warm feathers, and only put out her little
head, that she might look at all the magnificent pros-
pect that lay below her.

Thus they came to the warm countries. There
the sun shone much brighter than it does here ; the
heavens were twice as high, and upon trellis and
hedge grew the most splendid purple and green
grapes. Oranges and lemons hung golden in the
woods, and myrtle and wild thyme sent forth their
fragrance ; the most beautiful children, on the high-
ways, ran after and played with large, brilliantly-
colored butterflies. But the swallow still flew
onward, and it became more and more beautiful.
Among lovely green trees, and beside a beautiful
blue lake, stood a palace, built of the shining white
marble of antiquity. Vines clambered up the tall
pillars ; on the topmost of these were many swallow

TOMMELISE. 61

nests, and in one of these dwelt the very swallow
which carried Tommelise.

" Here is my home !" said the swallow; "but wilt
thou now seek out for thyself one of the lovely flowers
which grow below, and then I will place thee there,
and thou shalt make thyself as comfortable as thou
pleasest ?"

" That is charming !" said she, and clapped her
small hands.

Just by there lay a large white marble pillar,
which had fallen down, and broken into three pieces,
but amongst these grew the most exquisite large
white flowers.

The swallow flew down with Tommelise, and
seated her upon one of the broad leaves, — but how
amazed she was ! There sat a little man in the
middle of the flower, as white and transparent as if
he were of glass ; the most lovely crown of gold
was upon his head, and the most beautiful bright
wings upon his shoulders; and he, too, was no larger
than Tommelise. He was the angel of the flower.
In every flower lived such a little man or woman,
but this was the king of them all.

62 TOMMELISE.

" Good heavens ! how small he is !" whispered
Tommelise to the swallow. The little prince was as
much frightened at the swallow, for it was, indeed, a
great, gigantic bird in comparison of him, who was
so very small and delicate ; but when he saw Tom-
melise he was very glad, for she was the prettiest
little maiden that ever he had seen. He took, there-
fore, the golden crown from off his head, and set it
upon hers, and asked her what was her name, and
whether she would be his wife, and be the queen of
all the flowers ? Yes, he was really and truly a little
man, quite different to the frog's son, and to the
mole, with his black velvet dress; she therefore said,
Yes, to the pretty prince ; and so there came out of
every flower a lady or a gentleman, so lovely that it
was quite a pleasure to see them, and brought, every
one of them, a present to Tommelise ; but the best
of all was a pair of beautiful wings, of fine white
pearl, and these were fastened on Tommelise's
shoulders, and thus she also could fly from flower to
flower, — that was such a delight ! And the little
swallow sat up in its nest and sang to them as well
as it could, but still it was a little bit sad at heart, for

TOMMELISE. 63

it was very fond of Tommelise, and wished never to
have parted from her.

" Thou shalt not be called Tommelise !" said the
angel of the flowers to her ; " it is an ugly name,
and thou art so beautiful. We will call thee Maia !"

" Farewell, farewell !" said the little swallow, and
flew again forth from the warm countries, far, far
away, to Denmark. There it had a little nest above
the window of a room in which dwelt a poet, who
can tell beautiful tales ; for him it sang, — " Quivit,
quivit !" and from the swallow, therefore, have we
this history.

THE ROSE-ELF.

THERE grew a rose-tree in the middle of a garden ;
it was quite full of roses ; and in one of these, the
prettiest of them all, dwelt an elf. He was so very,
very small, that no human eye could see him ; behind
every leaf in the rose he had a sleeping-room ; he
was as well-formed and as pretty as any child could
be, and had wings, which reached from his shoulders
down to his feet. O, how fragrant were his cham-
bers, and how bright and beautiful the walls were !
They were, indeed, the pale pink, delicate rose
leaves.

All day long he enjoyed himself in the warm sun-
shine, flew from flower to flower, danced upon the
wings of the fluttering butterfly, or counted how

THE ROSE-ELF. 65

many paces it was from one footpath to another,
upon one single lime leaf. What he considered as
footpaths, were what we call veins in the leaf ; yes,
it was an immense way for him ! Before he had
finished, the sun had set ; thus, he had begun too
late.

It became very cold ; the dew fell, and the wind
blew ; the best thing he could do was to get home
as fast as he could. He made as much haste as was
possible, but all the roses had closed — he could not
get in ; there was not one single rose open ; the poor
little elf was quite terrified, he had never been out in
the night before ; he always had slept in the snug
little rose leaf. Now, he certainly would get his
death of cold !

At the other end of the garden he knew that there
was an arbor, all covered with beautiful honeysuckle.
The flowers looked like exquisitely painted horns ;
he determined to creep down into one of these, and
sleep there till morning.

He flew thither. Listen ! There are two people
within the bower ; the one, a handsome young man,
and the other, t&e loveliest young lady that ever was

5

66 THE ROSE -ELF.

seen ; they sat side by side, and wished that they
never might be parted, through all eternity. They
loved each other very dearly, more dearly than the
best child can love either its father or mother.

They kissed each other ; and the young lady wept,
and gave him a rose ; but before she gave it to him
she pressed it to her lips, and that with such a deep
tenderness, that the rose opened, and the little elf
flew into it, and nestled down into its fragrant cham-
ber. As he lay there, he could very plainly hear
that they said, — Farewell ! farewell ! to each other ;
and then he felt that the rose had its place on the
young man's breast. Oh ! how his heart beat ! —
the little elf could not go to sleep because the young
man's heart beat so much.

The rose lay there ; the young man took it forth
whilst he went through a dark wood, and kissed it
with s-nch vehemence that the little elf was almost
crushed t» death ; he could feel, through the leaves,
how warm were the young man's lips, and the rose
gave forth its odor, as if to the noon-day's sun.

Then tame another man through the wood ; he
was dark Vnd wrathful, and was the handsome young

THE ROSE-ELF. 67

lady's cruel brother. He drew forth from its sheath
a long and sharp dagger, and whilst the young man
kissed the rose, the wicked man stabbed him to
death, and then buried him in the bloody earth, under
a lime tree.

" Now he is gone and forgotten !" thought the
wicked man ; " he will never come back again. He
is gone a long journey over mountains and seas ;
it would be an easy thing for him to lose his life, —
and he has done so ! He will never come back again,
and I fancy my sister will never ask after him."

He covered the troubled earth, in which he had
laid the dead body, with withered leaves, and then
set off home again, through the dark night ; but he
went not alone, as he fancied ; the little elf went
with him ; it sat in a withered, curled-up lime leaf,
which had fallen upon the hair of the cruel man as he
dug the grave. He had now put his hat on, and,
within, it was very dark ; and the little elf trembled
with horror and anger over the wicked deed.

In the early hour of morning he came home ; he
took off his hat, and went into his sister's chamber ;
there lay the beautiful, blooming maiden, and dreamed

68 THE ROSE-ELF.

about the handsome young man. She loved him
very dearly, and thought that now he went over
mountains and through woods. The cruel brother
bent over her ; what were his thoughts we know not,
but they must have been evil. The withered lime
leaf fell from his hair down upon the bed cover, but
he did not notice it ; and so he went out, that he, too,
might sleep a little in the morning hour.

But the elf crept out of the withered leaf, crept to
the ear of the sleeping maiden, and told her, as if in
a dream, of the fearful murder ; described to her the
very place where he had been stabbed, and where
his body lay ; it told about the blossoming lime tree
close beside, and said, — "And that thou mayest not
fancy that this is a dream which I tell thee, thou wilt
find a withered lime leaf upon thy bed I"

And she found it when she woke.

Oh ! what salt tears she wept, and she did not
dare to tell her sorrow to any one. The window
stood open all day, and the little elf could easily go
out into the garden, to the roses and all the other
flowers ; but for all that, he resolved not to leave
the sorrowful maiden.

THE ROSE-ELF. 69

In the window there stood a monthly rose, and he
placed himself in one of its flowers, and there could be
near the poor young lady who was so unhappy. Her
brother came often into her room, but she could not
say one word about the great sorrow of her heart.

As soon as it was night she stole out of the house,
went to the wood, and to the very place where the
lime tree stood ; tore away the dead leaves from the
sod, dug down, and found him who was dead ! Oh !
how she wept and prayed our Lord, that she, too,
might soon die !

Gladly would she have taken the body home with
her, — but that she could not ; so she cut away a
beautiful lock of his hair, and laid it near her heart !

Not a word she said ; and when she had laid earth
and leaves again upon the dead body, she went home ;
and took with her a little jasmine tree, which grew,
full of blossoms, in the wood where he had met with
his death.

As soon as she returned to her chamber, she took
a very pretty flower-pot, and, filling it with mould,
laid in it the beautiful curling hair, and planted in it
the jasmine tree.

70 THE ROSE-ELF.

" Farewell, farewell !" whispered the little elf; he
could no longer bear to see her grief, so he flew out
into the garden, to his rose ; but its leaves had fallen ;
nothing remained of it but the four green calix
leaves.

" Ah ! how soon it is over with all that is good and
beautiful!" sighed he. At last he found a rose,—
which became his house ; he crept among its fragrant
leaves, and dwelt there.

Every morning he flew to the poor young lady's
window, and there she always stood by the flower-
pot, and wept. Her salt tears fell upon the jasmine
twigs, and every day, as she grew paler and paler,
they became more fresh and green ; one cluster of
flower-buds grew after another ; and then the small
white buds opened into flowers, and she kissed them.
Her cruel brother scolded her, and asked her whether
she had lost her senses. He could not imagine why
she always wept over that flower-pot, but he did not
know what secret lay within its dark mould. But
she knew it ; she bowed her head over the jasmine
bloom, and sank exhausted on her couch. The little
rose-elf found her thus, and, stealing to her ear he

THE ROSE-ELF. 71

whispered to her about the evening in the honey-
suckle arbor, about the rose's fragrance, and the love
which he, the little elf, had for her. She dreamed so
sweetly, and while she dreamed, the beautiful angel
of death conveyed her spirit away from this world,
and she was in heaven with him who was so dear to
her.

The jasmine buds opened their large white flow-
ers ; their fragrance was wondrously sweet.

When the cruel brother saw the beautiful blossom-
ing tree, he took it, as an heir-loom of his sister, and
set it in his sleeping-room, just beside his bed, for it
was pleasant to look at, and the fragrance was so
rich and uncommon. The little rose-elf went with
it, and flew from blossom to blossom. In every
blossom there dwelt a little spirit, and to it he told
about the murdered young man, whose beautiful
curling locks lay under their roots ; told about the
cruel brother, and the heart-broken sister.

" We know all about it," said the little spirit of
each flower ; " we know it ! we know it ! we know
it !" and with that they nodded very knowingly.

The rose-elf could not understand them, nor why

72 THE ROSE-ELF,

they seemed so merry, so he flew out to the bees
which collected honey, and told them all the story.
The bees told it to their queen, who gave orders that,
the next morning, they should all go and stab the
murderer to death with their sharp little daggers; for
that seemed the right thing to the queen-bee.

But that very night, which was the first night after
the sister's death, as the brother slept in his bed,
beside the fragrant jasmine tree, every little flower
opened itself, and all invisibly came forth the spirits
of the flower, each with a poisoned arrow; first of all
they sealed themselves by his ear, and sent such
awful dreams to his brain as made him, for the first
time, tremble at the deed he had done. They then
shot at him with their invisible poisoned arrows.

" Now we have avenged the dead !" said they, and
flew back to the white cups of the jasmine-flowers.

As soon as it was morning, the window of the
chamber was opened, and in came the rose-elf, with
the queen of the bees and all her swarm.

But he was already dead ; there stood the people
round about his bed, and they said — "That the
strong-scented jasmine had been the death of him !"

THE ROSE-ELF. 73

Then did the rose-elf understand the revenge
which the flowers had taken, and he told it to the
queen-bee, and she came buzzing, with all hej
swarm, around the jasmine-pot.

The bees were not to be driven away ; so one ol
the servants took up the pot to carry it out, and one
of the bees stung him, and he let the pot fall, and it
was broken in two.

Then they all saw the beautiful hair of the mur-
dered young man ; and so they knew that he who
lay in the bed was the murderer.

The queen-bee went out humming into the sun-
shine, and she sung about how the flowers had
avenged the young man's death ; and that behind
every little flower-leaf is an eye which can see every
wicked deed.

Old and young, think on this ! and so, Fare ye well,

THE GARDEN OF PARADISE.

THERE was a king's son : nobody had so many,
or such beautiful books as he had. Every thing
which had been done in this world he could read
about, and see represented in splendid pictures. He
could give a description of every people and every
country; but — where was the Garden of Paradise?
— of that he could not learn one word ; and that it
was of which he thought most.

His grandmother had told him, when he was quite
a little boy, and first began to go to school, that every
flower in the Garden of Paradise was the most de-
licious cake ; one was history, another geography,
a third, tables, and it was only needful to eat one of
these cakes, and so the lesson was learned ; and the
more was eaten of them, the better acquainted they
were with history, geography, and tables.

THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. 75

At that time he believed all this ; but when he
grew a bigger boy, and had learned more, and was
wiser, he was quite sure that there must be some
other very different delight in this Garden of Para-
dise.

" Oh ! why did Eve gather of the tree of knowl-
edge ? wrhy did Adam eat the forbidden fruit ? If
it had been me, I never would have done so ! If it
had been me, sin should never have entered into the
world!"

So said he, many a time, when he was young ; so
said he when he was much older ! The Garden of
Paradise filled his whole thoughts.

One day he went into the wood ; he went alone,
for that was his greatest delight.

The evening came. The clouds drew together ;
it began to rain as if the whole heavens were one sin-
gle sluice, of which the gate was open ; it was quite
dark, or like night in the deepest well. Now, he
slipped in the wet grass ; now, he tumbled over the
bare stones, which were scattered over the rocky
ground. Every thing streamed with water ; not a
dry thread remained upon the prince. He was

76 THE GARDEN OF PARADISE.

obliged to crawl up over the great blocks of stone,
where the water poured out of the wet moss. He
was ready to faint. At that moment he heard a
remarkable sound, and before him he saw a large,
illuminated cave. In the middle of it burned a fire,
so large that a stag might have been roasted at it, —
and so it was ; the most magnificent stag, with his
tall antlers, was placed upon a spit, and was slowly
turning round between two fir trees, which had been
hewn down. A very ancient woman, tall and strong,
as if she had been a man dressed up in woman's
clothes, sat by the fire, and threw one stick after
another upon it.

" Come nearer !" said she, seeing the prince ;
" sit down by the fire, and dry thy clothes."

"It is bad travelling to-night," said the prince ;
and seated himself on the floor of the cave.

"It will be worse yet, when my sons come home!"
replied the woman. " Thou art in the cave of the
winds ; my sons are the four winds of the earth ;
canst thou understand ?"

" Where are thy sons ?" asked the prince.

" Yes, it is not well to ask questions, when the

THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. 77

questions are foolish," said the woman. " My sons
are queer fellows ; they play at bowls with the
clouds, up in the big room there ;" and with that she
pointed up into the air.

" Indeed !" said the prince, " and you talk some-
what gruffly, and are not as gentle as the ladies
whom I am accustomed to see around me."

" Yes, yes, they have nothing else to do !" said
she ; " I must be gruff if I would keep my lads in
order ! But I can do it, although they have stiff
necks. Dost thou see the four sacks which hang on
the wall ; they are just as much afraid of them, as
thou art of the birch-rod behind the looking-glass !
I can double up the lads, as I shall, perhaps, have to
show thee, and so put them into the bags ; I make
no difficulties about that ; and so I fasten them in,
and don't let them go running about, for I do not find
that desirable. But here we have one of them."

With that in came the northwind ; he came tramp-
ing in with an icy coldness ; great, round hail-stones
hopped upon the floor, and snow-flakes flew round
about. He was dressed in a bear's-skin jerkin and
hose ; a hat of seal's-skin was pulled over his ears ;

«
tt

78 THE GARDEN OF PARADISE.

long icicles hung from his beard, and one hail-stone
after another fell down upon his jerkin-collar.

Do not directly go to the fire !" said the prince,
else thou wilt have the frost in thy hands and face !"

" Frost !" said the northwind, and laughed aloud.
"Frost ! that is precisely my greatest delight ! What
sort of a little dandified chap art thou ? What made
thee come into the \vinds' cave ?"

" He is my guest !" said the old woman ; " and if
that explanation does not please thee, thou canst get
into the bag ! — now thou knowest my mind !"

This had the desired effect ; and the northwind sat
down, and began to tell where he was come from,
and where he had been for the greater part of the
last month.

" I come from the Arctic Sea ; I have been upon
Bear Island with the Russian walrus-hunters. I lay
and slept whilst they sailed up to the North Cape.
Wlien I now and then woke up a little, how the
storm-birds flew about my legs ! They are ridiculous
birds ! they make a quick stroke with their wings,
and then keep them immoveably expanded, and yet
they get on."

THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. 79

" Don't be so diffuse !" said the winds' mother ;
" and so you came to Bear Island."

" That is a charming place ; that is a floor to dance
upon !" roared the northwind, "as flat as a pan-cake!
Half covered with snow and dwarfish mosses, sharp
stones and leg-bones of walruses and ice-bears lie
scattered about, looking like the arms and legs of
giants. One would think that the sun never had
shone upon them. I blew the mist aside a little, that
one might see the erection there ; it was a house,
built of pieces of wrecks, covered with the skin of
the walrus, the fleshy side turned outward ; upon the
roof sat a living ice-bear, and growled. I went down
to the shore, and looked at the birds' nests, in which
were the unfledged young ones, which screamed, and
held up their gaping beaks ; with that I blew down
a thousand throats, and they learned to shut their
mouths. Down below tumbled about the walruses,
like gigantic ascarides, with pigs' heads and teeth an
ell long !" -

" Thou telFst it very well, my lad !" said the
mother ; " it makes my mouth water to hear thee !"

" So the hunting began," continued the northwind.

80 THE GARDEN OF PARADISE.

" The harpoons were struck into the breast of the
walrus, so that the smoking blood started like a foun-
tain over the iron. I then thought of having some
fun ! I blew, and let my great ships, the mountain-
like fields of ice, shut in the boats. How the people
shrieked and cried ; but I cried louder than they !
The dead bodies of their fish, their chests and cord-
age, were they obliged to throw out upon the ice !
I showered snow-flakes upon them, and left them, in
their imprisoned ship, to drive southward with their
prey, there to taste salt-water. They will never
again come to Bear Island !"

" It was very wrofrg of thee !" said the winds'
mother.

" The others can tell what good I have done !" said
he ! " And there we have my brother from the west ;
I like him the best of them all ; he smacks of the
sea, and has a blessed coldness about him !"

"Is it the little zephyr?" inquired the prince.

" Yes, certainly, it is the zephyr !" said the old
woman ; " but he is not so little now. In old times
he was a very pretty lad, but that is all over now."

He looked like a wild man, but he had one of those

THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. 81

pads round his head, which children used to wear
formerly, to prevent them from being hurt. He held
in his hand a mahogany club, which had been cut in
the mahogany woods of America.

"Where dost thou come from?" asked the mother.

" From the forest-wilderness," said he, " where the
prickly lianas makes a fence around every tree ; where
the water-snakes lie in the wet grass, and man seems
superfluous I"

" What didst thou do there ?"

" I looked at the vast river, saw how it was hurled
from the cliffs, became mist, and was thrown back
into the clouds, to become rainbows. I saw the wild
buffalo swim in the river ; but the stream bore him
along with it ; madly did it bear him onward, faster
and faster, to where the river was hurled down the
cliffs — down, also, must he go ! I bethought myself,
and blew a hurricane, so the old trees of the forest were
torn up, and carried down, too, and became splinters '"

''And didst thou do any thing else?" asked the old
woman.

" 1 1 tumbled head-over-heels in the Savannas; I
have patted the wild horses, and shook down cocoa-

6

82 THE GARDEN OF PARADISE.

nuts ! Yes, yes, I could tell tales, if I would ! But
one must not tell all one knows, that thou know'st,
old lady !" said he, and kissed his mother so roughly
that he nearly knocked her backward from her
chair ; he was a regularly wild fellow.

Now came in the southwind, with a turban on his
head, and a flying Bedouin-cloak.

" It is dreadfully cold out here !" said he, and
threw more wood on the fire ; " one can very well
tell that the northwind has come first !"

" Here it is so hot, that one might roast an ice-
bear !" said the northwind.

" You are an ice-bear, yourself !" replied the
southwind.

" Do you want to go in the bags ?" asked the old
woman ; " sit down on the stone, and tell us where
thou hast been."

" In Africa, mother," said he ; " I have been lion-
hunting, with the Hottentots, in Caffreland. What
grass grows in the fields there, as green as the olive !
There dances the gnu ; and the ostrich ran races
with me, but my legs were the nimblest. I came to
the deserts of yellow sand, which look like the sur-

THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. 83

face of the ocean. There I met a caravan ! They
had killed their last camel to get water to drink, but
they only found a little. The sun burned above
them, and the sand beneath their feet. There was
no limit to the vast desert. I then rolled myself in
the fine, loose sand, and whirled it up in great pillars
— that was a dance ! You should have seen how
close the dromedaries stood together, and the mer-
chants pulled their kaftans over their heads. They
threw themselves down before me, as if before Allah,
their god. They are now buried ; a pyramid of sand
lies heaped above them ; I shall, some day, blow it
away, and then the sun will bleach their white
bones, and so travellers can see that there have been
human beings before them in the desert ; without this
it were hard to believe it !"

" Thou, also, hast done badly !" said the mother.
" March into the bag !" and before the southwind
knew what she would be at, she had seized him by
the body, and thrust him into the bag. The bag,
with him in it, rolled about on the floor ; but she
seized it, held it fast, and sat down upon it ; so he
was forced to lie still.

84 THE GARDEN OF PARADISE.

" They are rough fellows !" said the prince.

" So they are !" returned she ; " but I can chastise
them ! But here we have the fourth !"

This was the eastwind, and he was dressed like a
Chinese.

" Indeed ! so thou comest from that corner, dost
thou ?" asked the mother ; "I fancied that thou hadst
been to the Garden of Paradise."

" I shall go there to-morrow," said the eastwind.
" It will be a hundred years, to-morrow, since I was
there. I am now come from China, where I have
been dancing around the porcelain tower, till all the
bells have rung. Down in the street the royal offi-
cers were beating people ; bamboos were busy with
their shoulders, and from the first, down to the ninth
rank, they cried out — ' Thanks, my fatherly benefac-
tor !' but they did not mean any thing by it ; and I
rung the bells, and sang — * Tsing, tsang, tsu ! Tsing,
tsang,.tsu !'

" Thou art merry about it," said the old woman ;
" it is a good thing that to-morrow morning thou
art going to the Garden of Paradise ; that always
mends thy manners ! Drink deeply of wisdom's

THE GARDEN OF PARADISE 8.")

well, and bring a little bottleful home with thee, for
me !"

" That I will !" said the eastwind ; "but why hast

J

thou put my brother from the south down in the bag ?
Let him come out ! I want him to tell me about the
phoenix ; the princess of the Garden of Paradise al-
ways likes to hear about it, when I go, every hundred
years, to see her. Open the bag ! and so thou shalt
be my sweetest mother, and I will give thee a pocket-
ful of tea, very fresh and green, which I myself
gathered, on the spot !"

" Nay, for the sake of the tea, and because thou
art my darling, I will open the bag !"

She did so, and the southwind crept out, and looked
so ashamed, because the foreign prince had seen him.

" There hast thou a palm leaf for the princess,"
said the southwind ; "that leaf was given to me by the
phoenix bird, the only one in the whole world. He
has written upon it, with his beak, the whole history
of his life during the hundred years that he lived ;
now she can read it herself. I saw how the phoenix
himself set fire to his nest, and sat in it and burned
like a Hindoo widow. How the dry branches

86 THE GARDEN OF PARADISE.

crackled ! There was a srnoke and an odor. At
length it flamed up into a blaze ; the old phoenix was
burned to ashes, but its egg lay glowingly red in the
fire ; then it burst open with a great report, and the
young one flew out ; now it is the regent of all birds,
and the only phoenix in the whole world. He has
bitten a hole in the palm leaf which I gave thee ; it
is his greeting to the princess."

" Let us now have something to strengthen us !"

o o

said the mother of the winds ; and with that they all
seated themselves, and ate of the roasted stag ; and
the prince sat at the side of the eastwind, and there-
fore they soon became good friends.

" Listen, and tell me," said the prince, " what sort.
of a princess is that of which thou hast said so much,
and who lives in the Garden of Paradise ?"

" Ho ! ho !" said the eastwind, " if you wish to go
there, you can fly with me there to-morrow morning.
This, however, I must tell you, there has been no
human being there since Adam and Eve's time.
You have heard of them, no doubt, in the Bible."

" Yes, to be sure !" said the prince.

" At the time when they were driven out," said the

THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. 87

eastwind, " the Garden of Paradise sank down into
the earth ; but it still preserved its warm sunshine,
its gentle air, and its wonderful beauty. The queen
of the fairies lives there ; there lies the Island of
Bliss, where sorrow never comes, and where it is fe-
licity to be. Seat thyself on my back to-morrow
morning, and so I will take thee with me. I think
that will be permitted. But now thou must not talk
any more, for I want to go to sleep !"

And so they all slept together.

Early the next morning the prince awoke, and
was not a little amazed to find himself already high
above the clouds. He sat upon the back of the
eastwind, which kept firm hold of him. They were
so high in the air, that the woods and fields, the riv-
ers and sea, showed themselves as if upon a large il-
lustrated map.

" Good-morning," said the eastwind ; " thou might-
est have slept a little bit longer, for there is not
much to see upon the flat country below us, unless
thou hast any pleasure in counting the churches,
which stand like dots of chalk upon the green
board."

88 THE GARDEN OF PARADISE.

They were the fields and meadows which he called
the green board.

" It was very ill-mannered that I did not say good-
by to thy mother and brothers," said the prince.

" There is no blame when people are asleep !"
said the eastwind ; and with that flew away faster
than ever. One could have heard, as they went over
the woods, how the trees shook their leaves and
branches ; one could have heard, on lakes and seas
that they were passing over, for the billows heaved
up more loftily, and the great ships bowed down into
the water like sailing swans.

Towards evening, when it grew dusk, it was
curious to look down to the great cities ; the lights
burned within them, now here, now there ; it was
exactly like the piece of paper which children burn to
see the multitude of little stars in it, which they call
people coming out of church. The prince clapped
his hands, but the eastwind told him not to do so, but
much better to keep fast hold ; or else he might let
him fall, and then, perhaps, he would pitch upon a
church spire.

The eagle flew lightly through the dark wood, but

THE GARDEN OF PARADISE 89

the eastwind flew still lighter ; the Cossack on his
little horse sped away over the plain, bat the prince
sped on more rapidly by another mode.

" Now thou canst see the Himalaya," said the
eastwind ; " they are the highest mountains in Asia ;
we shall not be long before we come to the Garden
of Paradise !" . •

With that they turned more southward, and per-
ceived the fragrance of spice and flowers. Figs and
pomegranates grew wild, and the wild vine hung with
its clusters of blue and red grapes. There they both
of them alighted, stretched themselves on the tender
grass, where the flowers nodded, as if they would say,
— "Welcome back again !"

" Are we now in the Garden of Paradise ?" asked
the prince.

" No, certainly not," replied the eastwind ; " but
we shall soon come there. Dost thou see the wind-
ing field-path there, and the great cavern where the
vine leaves hang like rich green curtains ? We shall
go through there. Wrap thee in thy cloak ; here
the sun burns, but one step more and it is icy cold !
The birds which fly past the cavern have the one,

90 THE GARDEN OF PARADISE.

outer wing, in the warm summer, and the other, in-
ner one, in the cold winter !"

" Really ! And that is the way to the Garden of
Paradise !" said the prince.

They now went into the cave. Ha ! how ice-cold
it was ; but that did not last long, for the south wind
spread out his wings, and the)7 gave the warmth of
the brightest fire. Nay, what a cavern it was ! The
huge masses of stone, from which the water dripped,
hung above them in the most extraordinary shapes ;
before long it grew so narrow that they were obliged
to creep upon hands and feet ; again, and it expand-
ed itself high and wide, like the free air. It looked
like a chapel of the dead, with its silent organ pipes
and organ turned to stone !

" Then we go the way of the dead to the Garden
of Paradise," said the prince ; but the eastwind re-
plied not a word, but pointed onward, and the most
lovely blue light beamed towards them. The masses
of stone above them became more and more like a
chiselled ceiling, and at last were bright, like a white
cloud in the moonshine. They now breathed the
most deliciously mild atmosphere, as if fresh from

THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. 91

the mountains, and as fragrant as the roses of the
valley.

A river flowed on as clear as the air itself, and the
fishes were of gold and silver ; crimson eels, whose
every movement seemed to emit blue sparks of fire,
played down in the water, and the broad leaf of the wa-
terlily had all the colors of the rainbow ; the flower it-
self was an orange-colored burning flame, to which
the water gave nourishment, in the same manner as
the oil keeps the lamp continually burning. A firm
bridge of marble, as artistically and as exquisitely
built as if it had been of pearl and glass, led across
the water to the Island of Bliss, where the Garden
of Paradise bloomed.

The eastwind took the prince in his arms and
carried him over. The flowers and the leaves
began the most exquisite song about his youth,
so incomparably beautiful as no human voice could
sing.

Were they palm trees or gigantic wrater plants
which grew there ? Trees so large and succulent
the prince had never seen. Long garlands of the
most wondrously formed twining plants, such as one

92 THE GARDEN OF PARADISE.

only sees painted in rich colors and gold upon the
margins of old missals, or which twined themselves
through their initial letters, were thrown from tree to
tree. It was altogether the most lovely and fantas-
tic assemblage of birds, flowers, and graceful sweep-
ing branches. In the grass just by them was a flock
of peacocks, with outspread glittering tails. Yes, it
was really so ! — No, when the prince touched them
he observed that they were not animals, but plants ;
it was the large plantain, which has the dazzling
hues of the peacock's tail ! Lions and tigers gam-
bolled about, like playful cats, between the green
hedges, which sent forth an odor like the blossom of
the olive ; and the lions and tigers were tame ; the
wild wood-dove glittered like the most beautiful
pearl, and with its wings playfully struck the lion on
the cheek ; and the antelope, which usually is so
timid, stood and nodded with its head, as if it too
should like to join in the sport.

Now came the Fairy of Paradise ; her garments
shone like the sun, and her countenance was as gen-
tle as that of a glad mother when she rejoices over
her child. She was youthful ; and the most beau

THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. 9-)

tiful girls attended her, each of whom had a beam-
ing star in her hair.

The eastwind gave her a written leaf from the
phoenix, and her eyes sparkled with joy ; she took the
prince by the hand, and led him into her castle, the
walls of which wrere colored like the most splendid
leaf of the tulip when held against the sun. The
ceiling itself was a large glittering flower, and the
longer one gazed into it the deeper seemed its cup.
The prince stepped up to the window and looked
through one of the panes ; there he saw the Tree of
Knowledge, with the snake and Adam and Eve stand-
ing close beside it.

" Are they not driven out ?" asked he ; and the
Fairy smiled, and explained to him that upon every
pane of glass had time burned in its picture, but not
as we are accustomed to see it, — no, here all was
living ; the trees moved their leaves, and people
came and went as in reality. He looked through
another pane, and there was Jacob's dream, where
the ladder reached up to heaven, and the angels with
their large wings ascended and descended upon it.
Yes, every thing which had been done in this world

94 THE GARDEN OF PARADISE.

lived and moved in these panes of glass. Such pic-
tures as these could only be burnt in by time.

The Fairy smiled, and led him into a large and
lofty hall, the walls of which seemed transparent, and
were covered with pictures, the one more lovely than
the other. These were the millions of the blessed,
and they smiled and sang so that all flowed together
into one melody. The uppermost were so small that
they seemed less than the smallest rosebud, when it
looks like a pin-prick on paper. In the middle of
the hall stood a great tree with drooping luxuriant
branches ; golden apples, large and small, hung like
oranges among the green leaves. It was the Tree
of Knowledge ; of the fruit of which Adam and Eve
had eaten. On every leaf hung a crimson drop of
dew ; it was as if the tree wept tears of blood.

" Let us now go into the boat," said the Fairy ;
" it will be refreshing to us out upon the heaving
water. The boat rocks, but does not move from the
place, and all the regions of the world pass before
our eyes."

And it -was wonderful to see how the coast moved '
There came the lofty, snow-covered Alps, with

THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. 95

clouds and dark pine trees ; horns resounded with
such a deep melancholy, and peasants jodelled sweet-
ly in the valleys. Now the banyan tree bowed its
long depending branches over the boat ; black swans
swam upon the water, and the strangest animals and
flowers showed themselves along the shores : this
was Australia, the fifth quarter of the world, which
glided past, with its horizon bounded by blue moun-
tains. They heard the song of the priests, and saw
the savages dancing to the sound of the drum and
bone-tubes. The pyramids of Egypt now rose into
the clouds ; overturned pillars and sphinxes, half bu-
ried in sand, sailed past them. The northern lights
flamed above the Hecla of the north ; they were
such magnificent fireworks as no one could imitate.
The prince was delighted, and in fact, he saw a hun-
dred times more than what we have related.

" And may I always remain here ?" asked he.

" That depends upon thyself," replied the Fairy.
" If thou do not, like Adam, take of the forbidden
thing, then thou mayest always remain here."

" I shall not touch the apples upon the Tree of
Knowledge," said the prince ; " here are a thousand

96 THE GARDEN OF PARADISE.

fruits more beautiful than that. I should never do as
Adam did !"

" Prove thyself, and if thou be not strong enough,
then return with the eastwind which brought thee ;
he is about to go back again, and will not return here
for a whole century. That time will pass to thee in
this place as if it were only a hundred minutes, but
it is time enough for temptation and sin. Every
evening when I am about to leave thee, I shall say to
thee, ' Follow me !' and beckon to thee. But follow
me not, for with every step would the temptation
become stronger, and thou wouldst come into the
hall where grows the Tree of Knowledge. I sleep
beneath its fragrant depending branches ; if thou fol-
low me, if thou impress a kiss upon me, then will
Paradise sink deep in the earth, and it will be lost to
thee. The sharp winds of the desert will howl
around thee, cold rain will fall upon thy hair, and
sorrow and remorse will be thy punishment !"

" I will remain here !" said the prince ; so the
eastwind kissed his brow, and said, " Be strong !
and then we shall meet again here in a hundred
years !"

THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. 97

The eastwind spread out his large wings, which
shone like the harvest moon in autumn, or the north-
ern lights in the cold winter.

" Farewell ! farewell !" resounded from the flow-
ers and the trees. The storks and the pelicans flew
after, in a line like a waving riband, and accompanied
him to the boundary of the Garden.

" Now we begin our dance !" said the Fairy ; "at
the conclusion, when I have danced with thee, thou
wilt see that when the sun sets I shall beckon to thee,
and thou wilt hear me say, ' Follow me !' But do it
not ! That is thy temptation — that is sin to thee !
During a hundred years I shall every evening repeat
it. Every time that thou resistest the temptation wilt
thou gain more strength, till at length it will cease
to tempt thee. This evening is the first trial ! Re-
member that I have warned thee !"

The Fairy led him into a great hall of white trans-
parent lilies ; in each one the yellow stamina was a
little golden harp, which rung with clear and flute-
like tones. The most beautiful maidens floated in
the dance, and sung how glorious was the gift of life;
that they who were purified by trial should never die,

7

98 THE GARDEN OF PARADISE.

and that the Garden of Paradise for them should
bloom forever !

The sun went down, the whole heaven became of
gold, which gave to the lilies the splendor of the
most beautiful roses. The prince felt a bliss within
his heart such as he had never experienced before.
He looked, and the background of the hall opened,
and the Tree of Knowledge stood there with a splen-
dor which dazzled his eyes. A song resounded
from it, low and delicious as the voice of his mother,
and it seemed as if she sung, " My child ! my be-
loved child !"

Then beckoned the Fairy, and said, " Follow, fol-
low me !"

He started towards her — he forgot his promise —
forgot it all the first evening ! " Follow, follow me !"
alone sounded in his heart. He paused not — he
hastened after her.

" I will," said he ; " there is really no sin in it !
Why should I not do so ? I will see her ! There
is nothing lost if I only do not kiss her, and that I
will not do — for I have a firm will !"

The Fairy put aside the green, depending branches

THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. 99

of the Tree of Knowledge, and the next moment
was hidden from sight.

" I have not sinned," said the prince, " and I will
not !" He also put aside the green, depending
branches of the Tree of Knowledge, and there sat
the Fairy with her hands clasped, and the tears on
her dark eyelashes !

"Weep not for me !" said he passionately. " There
can be no sin in what I have done ; weep not !" and
he kissed away her tears, and his lips touched hers !

At once a thunder crash was heard — a loud and
deep thunder crash, and all seemed hurled together !
The beautiful, weeping Fairy, the Garden of Para-
dise, sunk — sunk so deep — so deep ! — and the prince
saw it sink in the deep night ! Like a little gleam-
ing star he saw it shining a long way off ! The
coldness of death went through his limbs ; he closed
his eyes, and lay long as if dead !

The cold rain fell upon his face ; the keen wind
blew around his head ; his thoughts turned to the
past.

" What have I done !" sighed he ; " I have sinned
like Adam ! Sinned, and I have forfeited Paradise !"

100 THE GARDEN OF PARADISE.

He opened his eyes ; the star so far off, which
had shone to him like the sunken Paradise, he now
saw was the morning star in heaven.

He raised himself up, and was in the great wood
near to the cave of the winds ; the old woman sat
by his side, she looked angrily at him, and lifted up
her arm.

" Already ! the first time of trial !" said she : " I
expected as much ! Yes, if thou wast a lad of mine,
I would punish thee !"

" Punishment will come !" said a strong old man,
with a scythe in his hand, and with large, black
wings ! — " I shall lay him in his coffin, but not now.
Let him return to the world, atone for his sin, and
become good in deed, and not alone in word. I
shall come again ; if he be then good and pious, I
will take him above the stars, where blooms the
Garden of Paradise ; and he shall enter in at its
beautiful pearl gates, and be a dweller in it forever
and ever ; but if then his thoughts are evil, and his
heart full of sin, he will sink deeper than Paradise
seemed to sink — sink deeper, and that forever ! —
Farewell !"

THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. 101

The prince arose — the old woman was gone — the
cave of the winds was nothing now but a hollow in
the rock ; he wondered how it had seemed so large
the night before ; the morning star had set, and the
sun shone with a clear and cheerful light upon the
little flowers and blades of grass, which were heavy
with the last night's rain ; the birds sang, and the
bees hummed in the blossoms of the lime tree. The
prince walked home to his castle. He told his
grandmother how he had been to the Garden of
Paradise, and what had happened to him there, and
what the old man with the black wings had said.

" This will do thee more good than many book-
lessons," said the old grandmother ; " never let it go
out of thy memory !"— and the prince never did.

A NIGHT IN THE KITCHEN.

ONCE upon a time, there was a bunch of brim-
stone matches, which were exceedingly proud, be-
cause they were of high descent ; their ancestral
tree, that is to say, the great fir tree, of which they
were little bits of chips, had been a great, old tree
in the forest. The brimstone matches now lay be-
side the kitchen fender, together with the tinder and
an old iron pot, and were speaking of their youth.

" Yes, we were then on the green branch," said
they ; " then we were really and truly on a green
branch ; every morning and evening we drank dia-
mond tea, that was the dew ; every day we had sun-
shine, if the sun shone, and all the little birds told us
tales. We could very well observe also, that we

A NIGHT IN THE KITCHEN. 103

were rich ; for the common trees were only dressed
in summer, but our family had a good stock of green
clothing both winter and summer. But then came
the wood-cutters — that was a great revolution, and
our family was cut up root and branch ; the main
head of the family, he took a place as mainmast in a
magnificent ship, which sailed round the world
wherever it would ; the other branches, some took
one place, and some took another ; and we have
now the post of giving light to the common herd ;
and, therefore, high-born as we are, are we now in
the kitchen."

" Yes, it was different with me," said the iron pot,
when the matches were silent ; " as soon as ever I
came into the world I was cleaned and boiled many
a time ! I care for the solid, and am properly spo-
ken of as first in the house. My only pleasure is,
as soon as dinner is over, to lie clean and bright up-
on the shelf, and head a long row of comrades. If
I except the water-bucket, which now and then goes
down in the yard, we always live in-doors. Our on-
ly newsmonger is the coal-box ; but it talks so vio-
lently about government and the people ! — yes, lately

104 A NIGHT IN THE KITCHEN.

there was an old pot, which, out of horror of it, fell
down and broke to pieces !"

" Thou chatterest too much !" interrupted the tin-
der, and the steel struck the flint until sparks came
out. " Should we not have a merry evening ?"

" Yes ; let us talk about who is the most well-
bred among us," said the brimstone matches.

" No, I don't think it right to talk about our-
selves," said an earthen jug ; " let us have an even-
ing's entertainment. I will begin ; I will tell some-
thing which everybody has experienced ; people can
do that so seldom, and it is so pleasant. By the Bal-

tic sea — "

. .

That is a beautiful beginning !" said all the talk-
ers ; " it will certainly be a history which we shall
like."

" Yes, then I passed my youth in a quiet family ;
the furniture was of wood ; the floors were scoured ;
they had clean curtains every fortnight."

" How interestingly you tell it !" said the dusting-
brush ; " one can immediately tell that the narrator
is a lady, such a thread of purity always runs through
their relations,'

A NIGHT IN THE KITCHEN. 105

" Yes, that one can feel !" said the water-bucket,
and made a little skip of pleasure on the floor.

And the earthen jug continued her story, and the
end of it was like the beginning.

All the talkers shook for pleasure ; and the dust-
ing-brush took green parsley leaves from the. dust-
heap, and crowned the jug ; for he knew that it
would vex the others ; and thinks he to himself, "If
I crown her to-day, she will crown me to-morrow !

" Now we will dance," said the fire-tongs ; and
began dancing. Yes, indeed ! and it is wonderful
how he set one leg before the other ; the old shoe-
horn, which hung on a hook, jumped up to see it.
"Perhaps I, too, may get crowned," said the fire-
tongs ; and it was crowned.

" They are only the rabble !" thought the brim-
stone matches.

The tea-urn was then asked to sing ; but it said it
had got a cold, and it could not sing unless it was
boiling ; but it was nothing but an excuse, because
it did not like to sing, unless it stood upon the table,
in grand company.

In the window there sat an old pen, which the

106 A NIGHT IN THE KITCHEN.

servant-girl was accustomed to write with : there
was nothing remarkable about it ; it was dipped deep
into the ink-stand. " If the tea-urn will not sing,"
said the pen, " then she can let it alone ! Outside
there hangs a nightingale in a cage, which can sing,
and which has not regularly learned any thing ; but
we will not talk scandal this evening !"

" I think it highly unbecoming," said the tea-ket-
tle, which was the kitchen singer, and half-sister to
the tea-urn, " that such a foreign bird should be list-
ened to ! Is it patriotic ? I will let the coal-box
judge."

" It only vexes me," said the coal-box ; " it vexes
me so much, that no one can think ! Is this a proper
way to spend an evening ? Would it not be much
better to put the house to rights ? Every one go
to his place, and I will rule ; that will produce a
change !"

" Yes, let us do something out of the common
way !" said all the things together.

At that very moment the door opened. It was the
servant-girl, and so they all stood stock still ; not
a sound was heard ; but there was not a pot among

A NIGHT IN THE KITCHEN. 107

\

them that did not know what they might have done,
and how genteel they were.

If I might have had my way," thought they,
then it would have been a regularly merry even-

u
It

ing !"

The servant-girl took the brimstone matches, and
put fire to them. Bless us ! how they sputtered and
burst into a flame !

"Now everyone can see," thought they, "that we
take the first rank ! What splendor we have ! what
brilliancy !" — and with that they were burnt out.

LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS.

" MY poor flowers are quite dead," said little Ida.
" They were so beautiful last evening, and now all
their leaves hang withered. How can that be ?"
asked she from the student who sat on the sofa.
She was very fond of him, for he knew the most
beautiful tales, and could cut out such wonderful pic-
tures ; he could cut out hearts with little dancing
ladies in them ; flowers he could cut out, and castles
with doors that would open. He was a very charm-
ing student.

" Why do the flowers look so miserably to-day?"
again asked she, and showed him a whole bouquet of
withered flowers.

" Dost thou not know what ails them ?" said the

LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS. 109

student ; " the flowers have been to a ball last night,
and therefore they droop so."

" But flowers cannot dance," said little Ida.

" Yes, when it is dark, and we are all asleep, then
they dance about merrily ; nearly every night they
have a ball !" said the student.

" Can no child go to the ball ?" inquired Ida.

" Yes," said the student, " little tiny daisies and
lilies of the valley."

" Where do the prettiest flowers dance ?" asked
little Ida.

" Hast thou not," said the student, " gone out of
the city gate to the great castle where the king lives
in summer, where there is a beautiful garden, with a
great many flowers in it ? Thou hast certainly seen
the swans which come sailing to thee for little bits
of bread. There is a regular ball, thou mayst
believe !"

" I was in the garden yesterday with my mother,"
said Ida, " but all the leaves were off the trees, and
there were hardly any flowers at all ! Where are
they ? In summer I saw such a many."

" They are gone into the castle," said the student.

110 LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS.

* Thou seest, as soon as the king and all his court
go away to the city, the flowers go directly out of the
garden into the castle, and are very merry. Thou
shouldst see them ! The two most beautiful roses
sit upon the throne, and are king and queen ; all the
red cockscombs place themselves on each side, and
stand and bow, they are the chamberlains. Then all
the prettiest flowers come, and so there is a great
ball ; the blue violets represent young midshipmen
and cadets, they dance with hyacinths and crocuses,
which they call young ladies. The tulips and the
great yellow lilies, they are old ladies who look on,
and see that the dancing goes on properly, and that
every thing is beautiful."

" But is there nobody who gives the flowers any
thing while they dance in the king's castle ?" asked
little Ida.

" There is nobody who rightly knows about it,"
said the student. " In the summer season at night
the old castle-steward goes regularly through the
castle ; he has a great bunch of keys with him, but
as soon as ever the flowers hear the jingling of his
keys, they are quite still, hide themselves behind

LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS. I'll

the long curtains, and peep out with their little heads.
' I can smell flowers somewhere about,' says the old
castle-steward, 'but I cannot see them !"

" That is charming !" said little Ida, and clapped
her hands ; " but could not I see the flowers ?"

"Yes," said the student, " only remember the next
time thou art there to peep in at the window, and
then thou wilt see them. I did so one day ; there
lay a tall yellow Turk's-cap lily on a sofa ; that was
a court lady."

" And can the flowers in the botanic garden go
out there ? Can they come such a long way ?"
asked Ida.

" Yes, that thou mayst believe," said the student ;
" for if they like they can fly. Hast thou not seen
the pretty butterflies, the red, and yellow, and white
ones, they look almost like flowers, — and so they
have been ; they have grown on stalks high up in the
air, and have shot out leaves as if they were small
wings, and so they fly, and when they can support
them well, then they have leave given them to fly
about by day. That thou must have seen thyself !
But it is 'very possible that the flowers in the botanic

112 LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS.

garden never have been into the king's castle, nor
know how merry they are there at night. And now,
therefore, I will tell thee something that will put the
professor of botany who lives beside the garden into
a perplexity. Thou knowest him, dost thou not ?
Next time thou goest into his garden, do thou tell one
of the flowers that there will be a great ball at the
castle ; it will tell it to its neighbor, and it to the
next, and so on till they all know, and then they will
all fly away. Then the professor will come into the
garden, and will not find a single flower, and he will
not be able to imagine what can have become of
them."

" But how can one flower tell another ? flowers
cannot talk," said little Ida.

" No, they cannot properly talk," replied the stu-
dent, " and so they have pantomime. Hast not
thou seen when it blows a little the flowers nod and
move all their green leaves ; that is just as intelligi-
ble as if they talked."

" Can the professor understand pantomime ?" in-
quired Ida.

"Yes, that thoxi mayst believe ! He came one

LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS. 113

morning down into his garden, and saw a tall yellow
nettle pantomiming to a beautiful red carnation, and
it was all the same as if it had said, ' Thou art so
handsome, that I am very fond of thee !' The pro-
fessor was not pleased with that, and struck the
nettle upon its leaves, which are its fingers ; but
they stung him so, that from that time he has never
meddled with a nettle again."

" That is delightful !" said little Ida, and laughed.

" Is that the stuff to fill a child's mind with !"
exclaimed the tiresome chancellor, who was come in
on a visit, and now sat on the sofa. He could not
bear the student, and always grumbled when he saw
him cutting out the beautiful and funny pictures, —
now a man hanging on a gallows, with a heart in his
hand, because he had stolen hearts ; and now an old
lady riding on a horse, with her husband sitting on
her nose. The cross old chancellor could not bear
any of these, and always said as he did now, " Is
that the stuff to cram a child's head with ! It is
stupid fancy !"

But for all that, little Ida thought that what the
student had told her about the flowers was so

8

114 LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS.

charming, that she could not help thinking of it.
The flowers hung down their heads, because they
had been at the ball, and were quite worn out.
So she took them away with her, to her other play-
things, which lay upon a pretty little table, the
drawers of which were all full of her fine things.
In the doll's bed lay her doll, Sophie, asleep ; but
for all that little Ida said to her, " Thou must actu-
ally get up, Sophie, and be thankful to lie in the
drawer to-night, for the poor flowers are ill, and so
they must lie in thy bed, and, perhaps, they will
then get well."

With this she took up the doll, but it looked so
cross, and did not say a single word ; for it was
angry that it must be turned out of its bed.

So Ida laid the flowers in the doll's bed, tucked
them in very nicely, and said, that now they must lie
quite still, and she would go and get tea ready for
them, and they should get quite well again by to-
morrow morning ; and then she drew the little cur-
tains close round the bed, that the sun might not
blind them.

All the evening long she could not help thinking

LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS. 115

about what the student had told her ; and then when
she went to bed herself, she drew back the curtains
from the windows where her mother's beautiful
flowers stood, both hyacinths and tulips, and she
whispered quite softly to them, " I know that you
will go to the ball to-night !" but the flowers looked
as if they did not understand a word which she said,
and did not move a leaf — but little Ida knew what
she knew.

When she was in bed, she lay for a long time
thinking how delightful it would be to see the beau-
tiful flowers dancing in the king's castle.

" Can my flowers actually have been there ?" and
with these words she fell asleep. In the night she
woke ; she had been dreaming about the flowers,
and the student, who the chancellor said stuffed
her head with nonsense. It was quite silent in the
chamber where Ida lay ; the night lamp was burn-
ing on the table, and her father and her mother were

O '

asleep.

" Are my flowers now lying in Sophie's bed ?"
said she to herself; " how I should like to know !"
She lifted herself up a little in bed, and looked

116 LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS.

through the door, which stood ajar, and in that room
lay the flowers, and all her playthings. She listened,
and it seemed to her as if some one was playing on
the piano, which stood in that room, but so softly
and so sweetly as she had never heard before.

" Now, certainly, all the flowers are dancing in
there," said she ; " O, how I should like to go and
see !" but she did not dare to get up, lest she should
wake her father and mother. " If they would only
just come in here !" said she ; but the flowers did
not come, and the music continued to play so sweet-
ly. She could not resist it any longer, for it was so
delightful ; so she crept out of her little bed, and
went, quite softly, to the door, and peeped into the
room. Nay I what a charming sight she beheld !

There was not any night-lamp in that room, and
yet it was quite light ; the moon shone through the
window into the middle of the floor, and it was al-
most as light as day. All the hyacinths and tulips
stood in two long rows along the floor ; they were
not any longer in the window, where stood the empty
pots. All the flowers were dancing so beautifully,
one round another, on the floor ; they made a regu-

LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS. 117

lar chain, and took hold of one another's green leaves
when they swung round. But there sat at the piano
a great yellow lily, which little Ida had certainly
seen in the summer, for she remembered very well
that the student had said, " Nay, how like Miss Lina
it is !" and they had all laughed at him. But now it
seemed really to Ida as if the tall yellow lily re-
sembled the young lady, and that she, also, really
did just as if she were playing ; now she laid her
long yellow face on one side, now on the other, and
nodded the time to the charming music. Not one
of them observed little Ida.

She now saw a large blue crocus spring upon the
middle of the table where the playthings lay, go
straight to the doll's bed, and draw aside the curtains,
where lay the sick flowers ; but they raised them-
selves up immediately, and nodded one to another, as
much as to say, that they also would go with them
and dance. The old snapdragon, whose under lip
was broken off, stood up and bowed to the pretty
flowers, which did not look poorly at all, and they
hopped down among the others, and were very merry.

All at once it seemed as if something had fallen

118 LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS.

down from the table. Ida looked towards it ; it was
the Easter-wand, which had heard the flowers. It
was also very pretty ; upon the top of it was set a
little wax-doll, which had just such a broad hat upon
its head as that which the chancellor wore. The
Easter-wand hopped about upon its three wooden
legs, and stamped quite loud, for it danced the mazur-
ka ; and there was not one of the flowers which could
dance that dance, because they were so light and
could not stamp.

The wax-doll upon the Easter-wand seemed to
become taller and stouter, and whirled itself round
above the paper flowers on the wand, and exclaimed,
quite loud, " Is that the nonsense to stuff a child's
mind with ! It is stupid fancy !"— And the wax-doll
was precisely like the cross old chancellor with the
broad hat, and looked just as yellow and ill-tempered
as he did ; but the paper flowers knocked him on the
thin legs, and with that he shrunk together again,
and became a little tiny wax-doll. It was charming
to see it ! little Ida could hardly help laughing.
The Easter-wand continued to dance, and the chan-
cellor was obliged to dance too ; it mattered not

LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS. 119

whether he made himself so tall and big, or whether
he were the little yellow wax-doll, with the great
black hat. Then came up the other flowers, especially
those which had lain in Sophie's bed, and so the
Easter-rod left off dancing.

At that very moment a great noise was heard with-
in the drawer where Ida's doll, Sophie, lay, with so
many of her playthings ; and with this the snapdrag-
on ran up to the corner of the table, lay down upon
his stomach, and opened the drawer a little bit. With
this Sophie raised herself up, and looked round her
in astonishment.

" There is a ball here !" said she, " and why has
not anybody told me of it ?"

"Wilt thou dance with me ?" said the snapdragon.

"Yes, thou art a fine one to dance with !" said she,
and turned her back upon him. So she seated her-
self upon the drawer, and thought that to be sure
some one of the flowers would come and engage her,
but not one came; so she coughed a little, hem!
hem! hem! but for all that not one came. The
snapdragon danced alone, and that was not so very
bad either !

120 LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS.

As now none of the flowers seemed to see Sophie,
she let herself drop heavily out of the drawer down
upon the floor, — and that gave a great alarum ; all the
flowers at once came running up and gathered around
her, inquiring if she had hurt herself ; and they were
all so exceedingly kind to her, especially those which
had lain in her bed. But she had not hurt herself at
all, and all Ida's flowers thanked her for the beauti-
ful bed, and they paid her so much attention, and
took her into the middle of the floor, where the moon
shone, and danced with her, while all the other flowers
made a circle around them. Sophie was now very
much delighted ; and she said they would be very
welcome to her bed, for that she had not the least
objection to lie in the drawer.

But the flowers said, "Thou shalt have as many
thanks as if we used it, but we cannot live so long !
To-morrow we shall be quite dead ; but now tell
little Ida," said they, "that she must bury us down
in the garden, where the canary-bird lies, and so we
shall grow up again next summer, and be much pret-
tier than ever !"

"No, you shall not die," said Sophie, and the

LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS. 121

flowers kissed her. At that very moment the room
door opened, and a great crowd of beautiful flowers
came dancing in. Ida could not conceive where
they came from ; they must certainly have been all
the flowers out of the king's castle. First of all went
two most magnificent roses, and they had little gold
crowns on ; they were a king and a queen ; then
came the most lovely gilliflowers and carnations, and
they bowed first on this side and then on that. They
had brought music with them ; great big poppies
and pionies blew upon peapods till they were red in
the face. The blue-bells and the little white convol-
vuluses rung as if they were musical bells. It was
charming music. Then there came in a many other
flowers, and they danced all together ; the blue vio-
lets and the red daisies, the anemonies and the lilies
of the valley ; and all the flowers kissed one another :
it was delightful to see it !

At last they all bade one another good-night, and
little Ida also went to her bed, where she dreamed
about every thing that she had seen.

The next morning, when she got up, she went as
quickly as she could to her little table, to see whether

122 LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS.

the flowers were there still ; she drew aside the cur-
tains from the little bed ; — yes, there they all lay to-
gether, but they were quite withered, much more
than yesterday. Sophie lay in the drawer, where
she had put her; she looked very sleepy.

" Canst thou remember what thou hast to tell
me ?" said little Ida ; but Sophie looked quite stupid,
and did not say one single word.

"Thou art not at all good," said Ida, "and yet
they all danced with thee."

So she took a little paper box, on which were
painted beautiful birds, and this she opened, and laid
in it the dead flowers.

" This shall be your pretty coffin," said she, " and
when my Norwegian cousins come, they shall go
with me and bury you, down in the garden, that next
summer you may grow up again, and be lovelier
than ever !"

The Norwegian cousins were two lively boys, who
were called Jonas and Adolph; their father had
given them two new cross-bows, and these they
brought with them to show to Ida. She told them
about the poor flowers which were dead, and so they

LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS. 123

got leave to bury them. The two boys went first,
with their cross-bows on their shoulders ; and little
Ida came after, with the dead flowers in the pretty
little box. Down in the garden they dug a little
grave. Ida kissed the flowers, and then put them in
their box, down into the earth, and Jonas and Adolph
stood with their cross-bows above the grave, for they
had neither arms nor cannon.

THE CONSTANT TIN SOLDIER.

THERE were, once upon a time, five-and-twenty
tin soldiers ; they were all brothers, for they were
born of an old tin spoon. They held their arms in their
hands, and their faces were all alike ; their uniform
was red and blue, and very beautiful. The very first
word which they heard in this world, when the lid
was taken off the box in which they lay, was, " Tin
soldiers !" This was the exclamation of a little boy,
who clapped his hands as he said it. They had
been given to him, for it was his birthday, and he
now set them out on the table. The one soldier
was just exactly like another ; there was only one of
them that was a little different ; he had only one leg,
for he had been the last that was made, and there

THE CONSTANT TIN SOLDIER. 125

was not quite tin enough ; yet he stood just as firmly
upon his one leg as they did upon their two, and he
was exactly the one who became remarkable.

Upon the table on which he had set them out,
there stood many other playthings ; but that which
was most attractive to the eye, was a pretty little
castle of pasteboard. One could look through the
little windows as if into the rooms. Outside stood
little trees, and round about it a little mirror, which
was to look like a lake ; swans of wax swam upon
this, and were reflected in it. It was altogether very
pretty ; but the prettiest thing of all was the little
young lady who stood at the open castle door, for
she was a dancer ; and she lifted one of her legs so
high in the air, that the tin soldier might almost have
fancied that she had only one leg, like himself.

" That is a wife for me !" thought he, " but she
is a great lady ; she lives in a castle, I in nothing but
a box ; and then we are five-and-twenty of us, there
is no room for her ! Yet I must make her acquaint-
ance !"

And so he set himself behind a snuff-box, which
stood on the table, and from thence he could very

126 THE CONSTANT TIN SOLDIER.

plainly see the pretty little lady, which remained
standing upon one leg, without ever losing her bal-
ance.

That continued all the evening, and then the other
tin soldiers were put into their box, and the people
of the house went to bed. The playthings now be-
gan to amuse themselves ; they played at company
coming, at fighting, and at having a ball. The tin
soldiers rattled about in their box, for they wanted
to be with the rest of the things, but they could not
get the box lid off. The nutcrackers knocked about
the gingerbread nuts, and the slate-pencil laughed
with the slate ; it was so entertaining that the canary-
bird awoke, and began to chatter with them also,
but she chattered in verse. The only two which
did not move from their place were the tin soldier
and the little dancing lady. She kept herself so
upright, standing on the point of her toe, with both
her arms extended; and he stood just as steadily
upon his one leg, and his eyes did not move from
her for one moment.

It now struck twelve o'clock, and crash ! up
sprang the lid of the snuff-box, but there was no snuff

THE CONSTANT TIN SOLDIER. 127

in it ; no, there was a little black imp — it was a jack-
in-the-box.

"Tin soldier!" said the imp, " keep thy eyes to
thyself!"

But the tin soldier pretended that he did not hear.

" Yes, we shall see in the morning !" said the imp.

And now it was the next morning, and the children
got up, and they set the tin soldier in the window, —
and either it was the imp, or else it was a sudden
gust of wind, but the casement burst open, and out
went the tin soldier, head foremost, down from the
third story ! It was a horrible fall, he turned head
over heels, and remained standing with his one leg
up in the air, and with his bayonet down among the
stones of a sink.

The maid-servant and the little boy went down
directly to seek for him, but although they almost
trod upon him, still they could not see him. If the
tin soldier had only shouted out, "Here I am !" they
would have found him ; but he did not think it would
be becoming in him to shout out when he had his
uniform on.

It now began to rain ; one drop fell heavier than

128 THE CONSTANT TIN SOLDIER.

another ; it was a regular shower. When it was
over there came up two street boys.

" Look here !" said one of them, " here lies a tin
soldier. He shall have a sail !"

So they made a boat of a newspaper, and set the
tin soldier in it, and now he sailed down the kennel ;
the two lads ran, one on each side, and clapped their
hands. Dear me ! what billows there were in the
uneven kennel, and what a torrent there was, for it
had poured down with rain ! The paper boat rocked
up and down, and whirled round so fast ! The tin
soldier must have trembled, but he showed no fear
at all, he never changed his countenance, and stood
holding his weapon in his hand.

Just then the boat was driven under a large arch
of the kennel, and it was as dark to the tin soldier
as if he had been in his box.

" Where am I now come to ?" thought he ; " yes,
yes, it is all that imp's doing ! Ah ! if the little
dancing lady were only in the boat, I would not mind
if it were twice as dark !"

At that moment up came a great big water-rat,
which lived under the kennel's archway.

THE CONSTANT TIN SOLDIER. 129

" Have you a passport ?" asked the rat. " Out
with your passport !"

But the tin soldier said not a word, and stood stock
still, shouldering his arms. The boat shot past, and
the rat came after. Ha ! how he set his teeth, and
cried to the sticks and the straws, —

" Stop him ! stop him ! he has not paid the toll !
He has not shown his passport !"

But the stream got stronger and stronger. The
tin soldier could already see daylight at the end of
the tunnel, but at the same time he heard a roar-
ing sound, which might well have made a bolder
man than he tremble. Only think ! where the tun-
nel ended, the water of the kennel was poured down
into a great canal ; which would be, for him, just as
dangerous as for us to sail down a great waterfall !

He was now come so near to it that he could no
longer stand upright. The boat drove on ; the tin
soldier held himself as stiff as he could ; nobody
could have said of him that he winked with an eye.
The boat whirled round three times, and filled with
water to the very edge — it must sink ! The tin
soldier stood up to his neck in water ! Deeper and

9

130 THE CONSTANT TIN SOLDIER.

deeper sank the boat, the paper grew softer and
softer ! Now went the water above the soldier s
head ! — he thought of the little dancing lady, whom
he should never see more, and it rung in the tin
soldier's ear, —

" Fare thee well, thou man of war !
Death with thee is dealing !"

The paper now went in two, and the tin soldier fell
through ; and at that moment was swallowed by a
large fish !

Nay, how dark it was now in there ! It was
darker than in the kennel archway, and much nar-
rower. But the tin soldier was steadfast to his
duty ; and he lay there, shouldering his arms. The
fish twisted about, and made the most horrible sort
of movements ; at last it became quite still ; a flash
of lightning seemed to go through it. Light shone
quite bright, and some one shouted aloud, " Tin
soldier !"

The fish had been caught, taken to market, sold,
and brought into the kitchen, where the servant girl
cut it up with a great knife. She took the soldier,
who was as alive as ever, between her two fingers,

THE CONSTANT TIN SOLDIER. 131

and carried it into the parlor, where she showed
them all what a remarkable little man had been
travelling about in the stomach of the fish ! But
the tin soldier was not proud. They set him upon
the table, and there — Nay, how wonderfully things
happen in this world ! — the tin soldier was in the
self-same room he had been in before ; he saw the
self-same child, and the self-same playthings on the
table ; the grand castle, with the pretty little dancing
lady standing at the door. She was standing still
upon one leg, with the other raised ; she also was
constant. It quite affected the tin soldier, he was
ready to shed tin tears, only that would not have
been becoming in him. He looked at her, and she
looked at him, but neither of them said a word.

At that very moment one of the little boys took
up the tin soldier, and threw it into the stove.
There was no reason for his doing so ; it must cer-
tainly have been the jack-in-the-box that was the
cause of it.

The tin soldier stood amid the flames, and felt a
great heat, but whether it was actual fire, or love,
he knew not. All color was quite gone out of him ;

132 THE CONSTANT TIN SOLDIER.

whether from his long journeying, or whether from
care, there is no saying. He looked at the little
dancing lady, and she looked at him ; he felt that
he was melting away, but for all that, he stood
shouldering his arms. With that the door of the
room suddenly opened, and a draught of wind car-
ried away the dancer. Like a sylph she flew into
the stove to the tin soldier ; became, all at once,
flame, and was gone ! The tin soldier melted to a
little lump ; and when the servant, the next day,
was carrying out the ashes, she found him like a
little tin heart : of the dancing lady, on the con-
trary, there was nothing but the ground on which
she had stood, and that was burned as black as a
coal.

THE STORKS.

UPON the last house in a little town there stood a
stork's nest. The stork-mother sat in the nest, with
her four young ones, which stuck out their heads,
with their little black beaks, for their beaks had not
yet become red. Not far off, upon the ridge of the
house roof, stood the stork -father, as stiffly and
proudly as possible ; he had tucked up one leg under
him, for though that was rather inconvenient, still he
was standing as sentinel. One might have fancied
that he was carved out of wood, he stood so stock
still.

" It looks, certainly, very consequential," thought
he to himself, "that my wife should have a sentinel
to her nest ! Nobody need know that I am her hus-
band ; they will think, of course, that I commanded
the sentinel to stand here. It looks so very proper !"

134 THE STORKS.

And having thus thought, he continued to stand on
one leg.

A troop of little boys were playing downjn the
street below, and when they saw the storks, the
boldest lad amongst them began to sing, and at last
they all sang together, that old rhyme about the
storks, which the children in Denmark sing ; but
they sang it now, because it had just come into their
heads : —

" Stork, stork on one leg,
Fly home to thy egg ;
Mrs. Stork she sits at home,
With four great, big young ones ;
The eldest shall be hung,
The second have its neck wrung ;
The third shall be burned to death,
The fourth shall be murdered !"

" Only hear what those lads sing !" said the little
storks ; " they sing that we shall be hanged and
burned !"

"Do not vex yourselves about that," said the stork-
mother ; " don't listen to them, and then it does not
matter."

But the boys continued to sing, and they pointed

THE STORKS. 135

with their fingers to the stork ; there was one boy,
however, among them, and his name was Peter, and
he said that it was a sin to make fun of the storks,
and he would not do it.

The stork-mother consoled her young ones thus :
" Don't annoy yourselves about that. Look how
funnily your father stands on one leg !"

"We are so frightened !" said the young ones, and
buried their heads down in the nest.

The next day, when the children assembled again
to play, they saw the storks, and they began their

verse : —

" The second have its neck wrung ;
The third shall be burned to death !"

" Shall we be hanged and burned ?" asked the
young storks.

" No, certainly not !" said the mother. "You will
learn to fly ; I will exercise you ; and so we shall
take you out into the meadows, and go a visiting to
the frogs, that make courtesies to us in the water ;
they sing — ' koax ! koax !' and so we eat them up ;
that is a delight !"

" And how so ?" asked the young storks.

136 THE STORKS.

" All the storks which are in the whole country
assemble," said the mother, " and so the autumn
manoeuvres begin ; every one must be clever at
flying ; that is of great importance, for those that
cannot fly are pecked to death by the general, with
his beak ; and, therefore, it is well to learn something
before the exercise begins."

"And so we really may be murdered ! as the boys
said ; and hark ! now they are singing it again."

" Listen to me, and not to them !" said the stork-
mother. "After the great manoeuvre, we fly away to
the warm countries — O, such a long way off, over
mountains and woods ! We fly to Egypt, where
there are three-cornered stone houses, which go up
in a point above the clouds ; they are called pyramids,
and are older than any stork can tell, There is a
river which overflows its banks, and so the country
becomes all mud. One goes in the mud, and eats
frogs."

" O !" said all the young ones

" Yes, that is so delightful ! One does nothing at
all but eat, all day long ; and whilst we are so well
off, in this country there is not a single green leaf

THE STORKS. 137

upon the trees ; here it is, then, so cold ; and the
very clouds freeze into pieces, and fall down in little
white rags !"

That was the snow which she meant, but she
could not explain it more intelligibly.

"Will it freeze the naughty boys into bits ?" asked
the young ones.

" No, it will not freeze them into bits, but it will
pretty nearly do so ; and they will be obliged to sit
in dark rooms and cough. You, on the contrary, all
that time, can be flying about in the warm countries,
where there are flowers and warm sunshine !"

Some time had now passed, and the young ones
were so large that they could stand up in the nest
and look about them, and the stork-father came fly-
ing every day with nice little frogs and snails, and
all the stork-delicacies which he could find. O, it
was extraordinary wrhat delicious morsels he got for
them. He stretched out his head, clattered with
his beak, as if it had been a little rattle, and thus he
told them tales about the marshes.

" Listen to me ; now you must learn to fly," said
the stork-mother, one day ; and so all the four young

138 THE STORKS.

ones were obliged to get out of the nest upon the
ridge of the house ; and how dizzy they were ; how
they balanced themselves with their wings, and for
all that were very near falling !

" Look at me," said the mother, "you must hold
your heads thus ! and thus must you set your wings !
Now ! one, two ! one, two ! This it is which must
help you out into the world !"

With this she flew a little way, and the young
ones made a little clumsy hop — bump ! — there lay
they, for their bodies were heavy.

" I cannot fly !" said one of the young ones ;
" it's no use my trying !" and crept up to the nest
again.

" Wilt thou be frozen to death here, when winter
comes ?" asked the mother. " Shall the boys come
and hang thee, and burn thee, and wring thy neck ?
Shall I go and call them ?"

" O, no !" said the young stork ; and so hopped
again on the roof, like the others.

On the third day after that it could regularly fly a
little, and so they thought that they could now rest
awhile in the air. They tried to do so, but — bunw !

THE STORKS. 139

— there they tumbled, and so they were obliged to
flutter their wings again.

The boys were now down in the street once more,
and sung their rhyme : —

" Stork, stork, fly."

" Shall not we fly down and peck their eyes out ?"
said the young ones.

" No, let them be," said the mother, " and listen
to me, that is far wiser. One, two, three ! Now
we fly round, higher than ever ! One, two, three !
Now to the left of the chimney ! — see, that was very
well done ! and the last stroke of the wings was so
beautiful and correct, that I will give you leave to
go down to the marsh with me, to-morrow ! There
will come a great number of pleasant stork-families
there, with their children ; let me have the happi-
ness of seeing that mine are the nicest, and that they
can make a bow and courtesy ; that looks so well,
and gains respect !"

" But shall we not have revenge on the naughty
boys ?" inquired the young storks.

" Let them sing what they like !" said the mother ;
" you will fly amid the clouds, go to the land of the

140 THE STORKS.

pyramids, when they must freeze, and neither have
a green leaf left, nor a sweet apple !"

" Yes, but we will be revenged !" whispered they
one to another, and then went out again to exercise.

Of all the boys in the street there was not one
who sung the jeering rhymes about the storks so
much as he who first began it ; and he was a very
little one, and was not more than six years old.
The young storks thought to be sure that he must
be a hundred years old, for he was so much larger
than either their mother or their father ; and they,
poor things, knew nothing about how old children
and great men might be. All their revenge, they
determined, should be taken upon this boy ; he
was the first to begin, and he it was who always
sang. The young storks were very much irritated,
and the more they were determined on revenge, the
less they said of it to their mother. Their mother,
they thought, would at last grant their wishes, but
they would leave it till the last day they were in the
country.

" We must see how you conduct yourselves in the
great manoeuvre," said the mother ; "if you fail in

THE STORKS. 141

that, then the general will run you through with his
beak, and then the boys will be right in one way, at
least. Now let us see."

Yes, thou shalt see !" said the young ones ; and
so they took great pains and practised every day,
and flew so beautifully and so lightly that it was
charming to see them.

Now came the autumn ; and all the storks began
to assemble to fly away into the warm countries,
while we have winter. That was a manoeuvre !
Over wood and town went they, just to see how they
could fly. The young storks performed so expertly
that they could discern very well both frogs and
snakes. That was the very best test of skill.
''Frogs and snakes, therefore, they should eat ;" and
they did so.

" Now let us have revenge," said they.

" Leave off talking of revenge," said the mother.
" Listen to me, which is a great deal better. Do
not you remember the good little boy who said,
when the others sung, * that it was a sin to make fun
of the storks ?' let us reward him, that is better than
having revenge."

142 THE STORKS.

: Yes, let us reward him," said the young storks.

" He shall have, next summer, a nice little sister,
such a beautiful little sister as never was seen ! — Will
not that be a reward for him ?" said the mother.

" It will," said the young ones ; " a sweet little
sister he shall have !"

" And as he is called Peter," continued the mother,
" so shall you also be called Peter altogether."

And that which she said was done. The little boy
had the loveliest of little sisters next year ; and, from
that time, all the storks in Denmark were called
Peter ; and so are they to this day.

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