I know your complaint arose from being too sharp-sighted, and in this case it has entirely failed. I happen to have a most unusual shadow. Have you not seen a person who is always at my side? Persons often give their servants finer cloth for their liveries than for their own clothes, and so I have dressed out my shadow like a man; nay, you may observe that I have even given him a shadow of his own; it is rather expensive, but I like to have things about me that are peculiar.


How is this?


am I really cured? This must be the best watering-place in existence. Water in our times has certainly wonderful power. But I will not leave this place yet, just as it begins to be amusing. This foreign prince--for he must be a prince--pleases me above all things. I only hope his beard won't grow, or he will leave at once.


He is a clever man,


which is a good thing, and he dances admirably, which is also good. But has he well-grounded knowledge? that is an important question, and I must try him.


You cannot answer that,


I learnt something about it in my childhood,


and believe that even my very shadow, standing over there by the door, could answer it.


Your shadow,


indeed that would be very remarkable.


I do not say so positively,


but I am inclined to believe that he can do so. He has followed me for so many years, and has heard so much from me, that I think it is very likely. But your royal highness must allow me to observe, that he is very proud of being considered a man, and to put him in a good humor, so that he may answer correctly, he must be treated as a man.


I shall be very pleased to do so. What a wonderful man he must be, to have such a clever shadow! If I were to choose him it would be a real blessing to my country and my subjects, and I will do it.


No one shall know, not even my own shadow; Listen my friend, now that I am as fortunate and as powerful as any man can be, I will do something unusually good for you. You shall live in my palace, drive with me in the royal carriage, and have a hundred thousand dollars a year; but you must allow every one to call you a shadow, and never venture to say that you have been a man. And once a year, when I sit in my balcony in the sunshine, you must lie at my feet as becomes a shadow to do; for I must tell you I am going to marry the princess, and our wedding will take place this evening.


Now, really, this is too ridiculous. I cannot, and will not, submit to such folly. It would be cheating the whole country, and the princess also. I will disclose everything, and say that I am the man, and that you are only a shadow dressed up in men's clothes.


No one would believe you, be reasonable, now, or I will call the guards.


I will go straight to the princess,


But I shall be there first, and you will be sent to prison.


You tremble. Has anything happened? You must not be ill to-day, for this evening our wedding will take place.


I have gone through the most terrible affair that could possibly happen, only imagine, my shadow has gone mad; I suppose such a poor, shallow brain, could not bear much; he fancies that he has become a real man, and that I am his shadow.


How very terrible, is he locked up?


Oh yes, certainly; for I fear he will never recover.


Poor shadow! it is very unfortunate for him; it would really be a good deed to free him from his frail existence; and, indeed, when I think how often people take the part of the lower class against the higher, in these days, it would be policy to put him out of the way quietly.


It is certainly rather hard upon him, for he was a faithful servant,


Yours is a noble character,


Major general-field-sergeant-commander Billy-goat's-legs.


You will have a husband, who I really believe is made of mahogany. He will make you a lady of Major-general-field-sergeant-commander Billy-goat's-legs. He has the whole cupboard full of silver plate, which he keeps locked up in secret drawers.


I won't go into the dark cupboard. I have heard that he has eleven china wives there already.


Then you shall be the twelfth. To-night as soon as you hear a rattling in the old cupboard, you shall be married, as true as I am a Chinaman;


I must entreat you, to go out with me into the wide world, for we cannot stay here.


I will do whatever you wish, let us go immediately: I think I shall be able to maintain you with my profession.


If we were but safely down from the table! I shall not be happy till we are really out in the world.


They are running away! they are running away!


I cannot bear it. I must get out of the drawer;


The old Chinaman is coming,


I have thought of something, let us get into the great pot-pourri jar which stands in the corner; there we can lie on rose-leaves and lavender, and throw salt in his eyes if he comes near us.


No, that will never do,


because I know that the Chinaman and the pot-pourri jar were lovers once, and there always remains behind a feeling of good-will between those who have been so intimate as that. No, there is nothing left for us but to go out into the wide world.


Have you really courage enough to go out into the wide world with me? have you thought how large it is, and that we can never come back here again?


Yes, I have,


My way is through the stove and up the chimney. Have you courage to creep with me through the fire-box, and the iron pipe? When we get to the chimney I shall know how to manage very well. We shall soon climb too high for any one to reach us, and we shall come through a hole in the top out into the wide world.


It looks very dark,


Now we are in the chimney, and look, there is a beautiful star shining above it.


This is too much. I cannot bear it, the world is too large. Oh, I wish I were safe back on the table again, under the looking glass; I shall never be happy till I am safe back again. Now I have followed you out into the wide world, you will take me back, if you love me.


This is terrible. My poor old grandfather is broken to pieces, and it is our fault. I shall never live after this;


He can be riveted, he can be riveted. Do not be so hasty. If they cement his back, and put a good rivet in it, he will be as good as new, and be able to say as many disagreeable things to us as ever. Do you think so?


Will it cost much, I wonder?


You have become proud since your fall broke you to pieces. You have no reason to give yourself such airs. Am I to have her or not?


Hurrah! now I am going out into the wide world.


Do you call that a shilling?


That is not a genuine coin of the country,--it is false; it is good for nothing.


False! good for nothing! Then I must pay it away in the dark. False! good for nothing!


I am positively obliged to pass this shilling to somebody. I cannot, with the best intentions, lay by a bad shilling. The rich baker shall have it,--he can bear the loss better than I can. But, after all, it is not a right thing to do.


Ah!


am I also to be a burden on the conscience of this poor woman? Am I then in my old days so completely changed?


No, I will not try to deceive any one with thee again. I will bore a hole through thee, that everyone may know that thou art a false and worthless thing; and yet, why should I do that? Very likely thou art a lucky shilling. A thought has just struck me that it is so, and I believe it. Yes, I will make a hole in the shilling, and run a string through it, and then give it to my neighbor's little one to hang round her neck, as a lucky shilling.


Lucky shilling! certainly this is what I mean to try.


That is my firm belief,


Upon my word. I have never seen anything so slim and delicate, so neat and soft before. May I venture to ask your name?


I shall not tell you,


Where do you reside when you are at home? I presume you are a girdle, a sort of under girdle. I see that you are useful, as well as ornamental, my little lady.


You must not speak to me. I do not think I have given you any encouragement to do so.


Oh, when any one is as beautiful as you are, is not that encouragement enough?


Get away; don't come so near me, you appear to me quite like a man.


I am a fine gentleman certainly. I possess a boot-jack and a hair-brush.


Don't come so near me. I am not accustomed to it.


Affectation! Mistress widow, little mistress widow, I feel quite warm. I am changing, I am losing all my creases. You are burning a hole in me. Ugh! I propose to you.


You old rag. You old rag!


Oh! what a first-rate dancer you would make; you can stretch out your leg so well. I never saw anything so charming; I am sure no human being could do the same.


I should think not,


You ought to be a countess, but all I possess consists of a fine gentleman, a boot-jack, and a comb. I wish I had an estate for your sake.


What! is he going to propose to me?


I shall be obliged to propose to the hair-brush. It is wonderful what beautiful hair you have, my little lady. Have you never thought of being engaged?


You might know I should think of it. I am engaged to the boot-jack.


Engaged! now there is no one left to propose to; I have had an immense number of love affairs, no one left me any peace. It is true I was a very fine gentleman; quite stuck up. I had a boot-jack and a brush that I never used. You should have seen me then, when I was turned down. I shall never forget my first love; she was a girdle, so charming, and fine, and soft, and she threw herself into a washing tub for my sake. There was a widow too, who was warmly in love with me, but I left her alone, and she became quite black. The next was a first-rate dancer; she gave me the wound from which I still suffer, she was so passionate. Even my own hair-brush was in love with me, and lost all her hair through neglected love. Yes, I have had great experience of this kind, but my greatest grief was for the garter--the girdle I meant to say--that jumped into the wash-tub. I have a great deal on my conscience, and it is really time I should be turned into white paper.


It is so delightfully cold, that it makes my whole body crackle. This is just the kind of wind to blow life into one. How that great red thing up there is staring at me! It shall not make me wink. I shall manage to keep the pieces. There it comes again, from the other side. Ah, I have cured him of staring, though; now he may hang up there, and shine, that I may see myself. If I only knew how to manage to move away from this place,--I should so like to move. If I could, I would slide along yonder on the ice, as I have seen the boys do; but I don't understand how; I don't even know how to run.


Away, away. The sun will make you run some day. I saw him, last winter, make your predecessor run, and his predecessor before him. Away, away, they all have to go.


I don't understand you, comrade. Is that thing up yonder to teach me to run? I saw it running itself a little while ago, and now it has come creeping up from the other side.


You know nothing at all, but then, you've only lately been patched up. What you see yonder is the moon, and the one before it was the sun. It will come again to-morrow, and most likely teach you to run down into the ditch by the well; for I think the weather is going to change. I can feel such pricks and stabs in my left leg; I am sure there is going to be a change.


I don't understand him, but I have a feeling that he is talking of something very disagreeable. The one who stared so just now, and whom he calls the sun, is not my friend; I can feel that too.


Away, away,


This is really beautiful. Summer cannot show a more beautiful sight,


And we can't have such a fellow as this in the summer time, he is capital.


Who are these two? You have been here longer than I have; do you know them?


Of course I know them, she has stroked my back many times, and he has given me a bone of meat. I never bite those two.


But what are they?


They are lovers, they will go and live in the same kennel by-and-by, and gnaw at the same bone. Away, away!


Are they the same kind of beings as you and I?


Well, they belong to the same master. Certainly people who were only born yesterday know very little. I can see that in you. I have age and experience. I know every one here in the house, and I know there was once a time when I did not lie out here in the cold, fastened to a chain. Away, away!


The cold is delightful, but do tell me tell me; only you must not clank your chain so; for it jars all through me when you do that.


Away, away! I'll tell you; they said I was a pretty little fellow once; then I used to lie in a velvet-covered chair, up at the master's house, and sit in the mistress's lap. They used to kiss my nose, and wipe my paws with an embroidered handkerchief, and I was called 'Ami, dear Ami, sweet Ami.' But after a while I grew too big for them, and they sent me away to the housekeeper's room; so I came to live on the lower story. You can look into the room from where you stand, and see where I was master once; for I was indeed master to the housekeeper. It was certainly a smaller room than those up stairs; but I was more comfortable; for I was not being continually taken hold of and pulled about by the children as I had been. I received quite as good food, or even better. I had my own cushion, and there was a stove--it is the finest thing in the world at this season of the year. I used to go under the stove, and lie down quite beneath it. Ah, I still dream of that stove. Away, away!


Does a stove look beautiful? is it at all like me?


It is just the reverse of you, it's as black as a crow, and has a long neck and a brass knob; it eats firewood, so that fire spurts out of its mouth. We should keep on one side, or under it, to be comfortable. You can see it through the window, from where you stand.


And why did you leave her? How could you give up such a comfortable place?


I was obliged. Bone for bone. Don't you hear how hoarse I am. Away, away! I can't talk any more like other dogs. Away, away, that is the end of it all.


What a strange crackling I feel within me. Shall I ever get in there? It is an innocent wish, and innocent wishes are sure to be fulfilled. I must go in there and lean against her, even if I have to break the window.


You must never go in there, for if you approach the stove, you'll melt away, away.


I might as well go, for I think I am breaking up as it is. I can endure it no longer, how beautiful it looks when it stretches out its tongue?


That is terrible disease for a Snow Man. I have suffered from it myself, but I got over it. Away, away, the weather is going to change. Ah, now I understand why he had such a great longing for the stove. Why, there's the shovel that is used for cleaning out the stove, fastened to the pole. But it's all over now. Away, away. Away, away,


Come from your fragrant home, green thyme; Stretch your soft branches, willow-tree; The months are bringing the sweet spring-time, When the lark in the sky sings joyfully. Come gentle sun, while the cuckoo sings, And I'll mock his note in my wanderings.


See there are the white bees swarming,


Have they a queen bee?


To be sure they have. She is flying there where the swarm is thickest. She is the largest of them all, and never remains on the earth, but flies up to the dark clouds. Often at midnight she flies through the streets of the town, and looks in at the windows, then the ice freezes on the panes into wonderful shapes, that look like flowers and castles.


Yes, I have seen them,


Can the Snow Queen come in here?


Only let her come. I'll set her on the stove and then she'll melt.


Roses bloom and cease to be, But we shall the Christ-child see.


Oh, something has struck my heart! There is something in my eye. I think it is gone. Why do you cry? it makes you look ugly. There is nothing the matter with me now. Oh, see! that rose is worm-eaten, and this one is quite crooked. After all they are ugly roses, just like the box in which they stand,


Kay, what are you doing?


It was only fit for babies in long clothes, but;


That boy will be very clever; he has a remarkable genius.


Look in this glass, Gerda. Is it not clever? and much more interesting than looking at real flowers. There is not a single fault in it, and the snow-flakes are quite perfect till they begin to melt. I've got to leave to go into the great square, where the other boys play and ride.


We have driven well, but why do you tremble? here, creep into my warm fur. Are you still cold,


My sledge! don't forget my sledge,


Now you must have no more kisses, or I should kiss you to death.


Kay is dead and gone,


I don't believe it,


He is dead and gone,


We don't believe it,


I will put on my new red shoes, those that Kay has never seen, and then I will go down to the river, and ask for him. Is it true that you have taken my little playmate away from me? I will give you my red shoes if you will give him back to me.


Here we are! Here we are!


You poor little child, how did you manage to come all this distance into the wide world on such a rapid rolling stream? Come and tell me who you are, and how came you here. Hem-hem;


I have long been wishing for a dear little maiden like you, and now you must stay with me, and see how happily we shall live together.


What, are there no roses here? Oh, how I have been detained! I wanted to seek for little Kay. Do you know where he is? do you think he is dead?


No, he is not dead. We have been in the ground where all the dead lie; but Kay is not there.


Thank you. Do you know where little Kay is?


Hark, do you hear the drum?--'turn, turn,'--there are only two notes, always, 'turn, turn.' Listen to the women's song of mourning! Hear the cry of the priest! In her long red robe stands the Hindoo widow by the funeral pile. The flames rise around her as she places herself on the dead body of her husband; but the Hindoo woman is thinking of the living one in that circle; of him, her son, who lighted those flames. Those shining eyes trouble her heart more painfully than the flames which will soon consume her body to ashes. Can the fire of the heart be extinguished in the flames of the funeral pile?


I don't understand that at all,


That is my story,


Near yonder narrow road stands an old knight's castle; thick ivy creeps over the old ruined walls, leaf over leaf, even to the balcony, in which stands a beautiful maiden. She bends over the balustrades, and looks up the road. No rose on its stem is fresher than she; no apple-blossom, wafted by the wind, floats more lightly than she moves. Her rich silk rustles as she bends over and exclaims, 'Will he not come?'


Is it Kay you mean?


I am only speaking of a story of my dream,


Between two trees a rope is hanging; there is a piece of board upon it; it is a swing. Two pretty little girls, in dresses white as snow, and with long green ribbons fluttering from their hats, are sitting upon it swinging. Their brother who is taller than they are, stands in the swing; he has one arm round the rope, to steady himself; in one hand he holds a little bowl, and in the other a clay pipe; he is blowing bubbles. As the swing goes on, the bubbles fly upward, reflecting the most beautiful varying colors. The last still hangs from the bowl of the pipe, and sways in the wind. On goes the swing; and then a little black dog comes running up. He is almost as light as the bubble, and he raises himself on his hind legs, and wants to be taken into the swing; but it does not stop, and the dog falls; then he barks and gets angry. The children stoop towards him, and the bubble bursts. A swinging plank, a light sparkling foam picture,--that is my story.


It may be all very pretty what you are telling me, but you speak so mournfully, and you do not mention little Kay at all.


There were three beautiful sisters, fair and delicate. The dress of one was red, of the second blue, and of the third pure white. Hand in hand they danced in the bright moonlight, by the calm lake; but they were human beings, not fairy elves. The sweet fragrance attracted them, and they disappeared in the wood; here the fragrance became stronger. Three coffins, in which lay the three beautiful maidens, glided from the thickest part of the forest across the lake. The fire-flies flew lightly over them, like little floating torches. Do the dancing maidens sleep, or are they dead? The scent of the flower says that they are corpses. The evening bell tolls their knell.


You make me quite sorrowful, your perfume is so strong, you make me think of the dead maidens. Ah! is little Kay really dead then? The roses have been in the earth, and they say no.


Cling, clang,


We are not tolling for little Kay; we do not know him. We sing our song, the only one we know.


You are little bright suns, tell me if you know where I can find my play-fellow.


The bright warm sun shone on a little court, on the first warm day of spring. His bright beams rested on the white walls of the neighboring house; and close by bloomed the first yellow flower of the season, glittering like gold in the sun's warm ray. An old woman sat in her arm chair at the house door, and her granddaughter, a poor and pretty servant-maid came to see her for a short visit. When she kissed her grandmother there was gold everywhere: the gold of the heart in that holy kiss; it was a golden morning; there was gold in the beaming sunlight, gold in the leaves of the lowly flower, and on the lips of the maiden. There, that is my story,


My poor old grandmother! she is longing to see me, and grieving for me as she did for little Kay; but I shall soon go home now, and take little Kay with me. It is no use asking the flowers; they know only their own songs, and can give me no information.


I can see myself, I can see myself. Oh, how sweet is my perfume! Up in a little room with a bow window, stands a little dancing girl, half undressed; she stands sometimes on one leg, and sometimes on both, and looks as if she would tread the whole world under her feet. She is nothing but a delusion. She is pouring water out of a tea-pot on a piece of stuff which she holds in her hand; it is her bodice. 'Cleanliness is a good thing,' she says. Her white dress hangs on a peg; it has also been washed in the tea-pot, and dried on the roof. She puts it on, and ties a saffron-colored handkerchief round her neck, which makes the dress look whiter. See how she stretches out her legs, as if she were showing off on a stem. I can see myself, I can see myself.


What do I care for all that, you need not tell me such stuff.


Oh, how I have wasted my time? it is autumn. I must not rest any longer,


Caw, caw; good-day, good-day. Perhaps I have--it may be.


No! Do you think you have?


Gently, gently. I believe I know. I think it may be little Kay; but he has certainly forgotten you by this time for the princess.


Does he live with a princess?


Yes, listen, but it is so difficult to speak your language. If you understand the crows' language then I can explain it better. Do you?


No, I have never learnt it, but my grandmother understands it, and used to speak it to me. I wish I had learnt it.


It does not matter. I will explain as well as I can, although it will be very badly done; In this kingdom where we now are, there lives a princess, who is so wonderfully clever that she has read all the newspapers in the world, and forgotten them too, although she is so clever. A short time ago, as she was sitting on her throne, which people say is not such an agreeable seat as is often supposed, she began to sing a song which commences in these words:


Why should I not be married? Why not indeed?


We are so glad to hear it, we were talking about it ourselves the other day.


You may believe that every word I tell you is true, for I have a tame sweetheart who goes freely about the palace, and she told me all this. birds of a feather flock together. Newspapers were published immediately, with a border of hearts, and the initials of the princess among them. They gave notice that every young man who was handsome was free to visit the castle and speak with the princess; and those who could reply loud enough to be heard when spoken to, were to make themselves quite at home at the palace; but the one who spoke best would be chosen as a husband for the princess. Yes, yes, you may believe me, it is all as true as I sit here. The people came in crowds. There was a great deal of crushing and running about, but no one succeeded either on the first or second day. They could all speak very well while they were outside in the streets, but when they entered the palace gates, and saw the guards in silver uniforms, and the footmen in their golden livery on the staircase, and the great halls lighted up, they became quite confused. And when they stood before the throne on which the princess sat, they could do nothing but repeat the last words she had said; and she had no particular wish to hear her own words over again. It was just as if they had all taken something to make them sleepy while they were in the palace, for they did not recover themselves nor speak till they got back again into the street. There was quite a long line of them reaching from the town-gate to the palace. I went myself to see them. They were hungry and thirsty, for at the palace they did not get even a glass of water. Some of the wisest had taken a few slices of bread and butter with them, but they did not share it with their neighbors; they thought if they went in to the princess looking hungry, there would be a better chance for themselves.


But Kay! tell me about little Kay! was he amongst the crowd?


Stop a bit, we are just coming to him. It was on the third day, there came marching cheerfully along to the palace a little personage, without horses or carriage, his eyes sparkling like yours; he had beautiful long hair, but his clothes were very poor.


That was Kay! Oh, then I have found him;


He had a little knapsack on his back,


No, it must have been his sledge, for he went away with it.


It may have been so. I did not look at it very closely. But I know from my tame sweetheart that he passed through the palace gates, saw the guards in their silver uniform, and the servants in their liveries of gold on the stairs, but he was not in the least embarrassed. 'It must be very tiresome to stand on the stairs,' he said. 'I prefer to go in.' The rooms were blazing with light. Councillors and ambassadors walked about with bare feet, carrying golden vessels; it was enough to make any one feel serious. His boots creaked loudly as he walked, and yet he was not at all uneasy.


It must be Kay. I know he had new boots on, I have heard them creak in grandmother's room.


They really did creak, yet he went boldly up to the princess herself, who was sitting on a pearl as large as a spinning wheel, and all the ladies of the court were present with their maids, and all the cavaliers with their servants; and each of the maids had another maid to wait upon her, and the cavaliers' servants had their own servants, as well as a page each. They all stood in circles round the princess, and the nearer they stood to the door, the prouder they looked. The servants' pages, who always wore slippers, could hardly be looked at, they held themselves up so proudly by the door.


It must be quite awful, but did Kay win the princess?


If I had not been a crow. I would have married her myself, although I am engaged. He spoke just as well as I do, when I speak the crows' language, so I heard from my tame sweetheart. He was quite free and agreeable and said he had not come to woo the princess, but to hear her wisdom; and he was as pleased with her as she was with him.


Oh, certainly that was Kay, he was so clever; he could work mental arithmetic and fractions. Oh, will you take me to the palace?


It is very easy to ask that, but how are we to manage it? However, I will speak about it to my tame sweetheart, and ask her advice; for I must tell you it will be very difficult to gain permission for a little girl like you to enter the palace.


Oh, yes; but I shall gain permission easily, for when Kay hears that I am here, he will come out and fetch me in immediately.


Wait for me here by the palings. Caw, caw, she sends you greeting, and here is a little roll which she took from the kitchen for you; there is plenty of bread there, and she thinks you must be hungry. It is not possible for you to enter the palace by the front entrance. The guards in silver uniform and the servants in gold livery would not allow it. But do not cry, we will manage to get you in; my sweetheart knows a little back-staircase that leads to the sleeping apartments, and she knows where to find the key.


It must be he,


My betrothed has spoken so very highly of you, my little lady, your life-history, Vita, as it may be called, is very touching. If you will take the lamp I will walk before you. We will go straight along this way, then we shall meet no one.


It seems to me as if somebody were behind us,


They are only dreams, they are coming to fetch the thoughts of the great people out hunting. You may be quite sure of that,


You poor child,


Would you like to have your freedom? or would you prefer to be raised to the position of court crows, with all that is left in the kitchen for yourselves?


How good everyone is to me, men and animals too;


Farewell, farewell,


It is gold! it is gold!


She is fat and pretty, and she has been fed with the kernels of nuts. She is as good as a little lamb; how nice she will taste!


Oh!


She shall play with me, she shall give me her muff and her pretty dress, and sleep with me in my bed.


See how she is dancing with her young cub.


I will have a ride in the coach. They shall not kill you as long as you don't make us vexed with you. I suppose you are a princess.


No,


They sha'nt kill you, even if I do get angry with you; for I will do it myself.


You shall sleep with me and all my little animals to-night. These all belong to me. Kiss it. Both rascals would fly away directly, if they were not closely locked up. And here is my old sweetheart 'Ba;' We are obliged to hold him tight too, or else he would run away from us also. I tickle his neck every evening with my sharp knife, which frightens him very much.


Will you have that knife with you while you are asleep?


I always sleep with the knife by me. No one knows what may happen. But now tell me again all about little Kay, and why you went out into the world.


Coo, coo; we have seen little Kay. A white fowl carried his sledge, and he sat in the carriage of the Snow Queen, which drove through the wood while we were lying in our nest. She blew upon us, and all the young ones died excepting us two. Coo, coo.


What are you saying up there? Where was the Snow Queen going? Do you know anything about it?


She was most likely travelling to Lapland, where there is always snow and ice. Ask the reindeer that is fastened up there with a rope.


Yes, there is always snow and ice, and it is a glorious place; you can leap and run about freely on the sparkling ice plains. The Snow Queen has her summer tent there, but her strong castle is at the North Pole, on an island called Spitzbergen.


Oh, Kay, little Kay!


Lie still, or I shall run my knife into your body. That is all talk, that is all talk. Do you know where Lapland is?


Who should know better than I do? I was born and brought up there, and used to run about the snow-covered plains.


Now listen, all our men are gone away,--only mother is here, and here she will stay; but at noon she always drinks out of a great bottle, and afterwards sleeps for a little while; and then, I'll do something for you. My own little nanny goat, good morning.


I should like very much to tickle your neck a few times more with my knife, for it makes you look so funny; but never mind,--I will untie your cord, and set you free, so that you may run away to Lapland; but you must make good use of your legs, and carry this little maiden to the castle of the Snow Queen, where her play-fellow is. You have heard what she told me, for she spoke loud enough, and you were listening.


Here are your fur boots for you, for it will be very cold; but I must keep the muff; it is so pretty. However, you shall not be frozen for the want of it; here are my mother's large warm mittens; they will reach up to your elbows. Let me put them on. There, now your hands look just like my mother's. I don't like to see you fret, you ought to look quite happy now; and here are two loaves and a ham, so that you need not starve.


Now run, but mind you take good care of the little girl.


Farewell,


There are my old northern lights, see how they flash.


Oh, you poor things, you have a long way to go yet. You must travel more than a hundred miles farther, to Finland. The Snow Queen lives there now, and she burns Bengal lights every evening. I will write a few words on a dried stock-fish, for I have no paper, and you can take it from me to the Finland woman who lives there; she can give you better information than I can.


You are so clever. I know you can tie all the winds of the world with a piece of twine. If a sailor unties one knot, he has a fair wind; when he unties the second, it blows hard; but if the third and fourth are loosened, then comes a storm, which will root up whole forests. Cannot you give this little maiden something which will make her as strong as twelve men, to overcome the Snow Queen?


The Power of twelve men! that would be of very little use. Little Kay is really with the Snow Queen, but he finds everything there so much to his taste and his liking, that he believes it is the finest place in the world; but this is because he has a piece of broken glass in his heart, and a little piece of glass in his eye. These must be taken out, or he will never be a human being again, and the Snow Queen will retain her power over him.


But can you not give little Gerda something to help her to conquer this power?


I can give her no greater power than she has already, don't you see how strong that is? How men and animals are obliged to serve her, and how well she has got through the world, barefooted as she is. She cannot receive any power from me greater than she now has, which consists in her own purity and innocence of heart. If she cannot herself obtain access to the Snow Queen, and remove the glass fragments from little Kay, we can do nothing to help her. Two miles from here the Snow Queen's garden begins; you can carry the little girl so far, and set her down by the large bush which stands in the snow, covered with red berries. Do not stay gossiping, but come back here as quickly as you can.


Oh, I have forgotten my boots and my mittens,


The Mirror of Reason,


When you can find out this, you shall be your own master, and I will give you the whole world and a new pair of skates. Now I must hasten away to warmer countries. I will go and look into the black craters of the tops of the burning mountains, Etna and Vesuvius, as they are called,--I shall make them look white, which will be good for them, and for the lemons and the grapes.


Kay, dear little Kay, I have found you at last. Roses bloom and cease to be, But we shall the Christ-child see.


Gerda, dear little Gerda, where have you been all this time, and where have I been? How cold it is, and how large and empty it all looks,


Farewell.


You are a fine fellow to go gadding about in this way. I should like to know whether you deserve that any one should go to the end of the world to find you.


They are gone to foreign countries,


And the crow?


Oh, the crow is dead, his tame sweetheart is now a widow, and wears a bit of black worsted round her leg. She mourns very pitifully, but it is all stuff. But now tell me how you managed to get him back. Snip, snap, snare! it's all right at last,


Except ye become as little children, ye shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of God.


Roses bloom and cease to be, But we shall the Christ-child see.


Come in,


I cannot. I am not strong enough to unlock the door! When the summer comes I shall be strong!


When will it be summer? What a long time it takes! what a long time it takes! I feel a stirring and striving within me; I must stretch myself, I must unlock the door, I must get out, and must nod a good morning to the summer, and what a happy time that will be!


Welcome, welcome!


Beautiful Flower! how graceful and delicate you are! You are the first, you are the only one! You are our love! You are the bell that rings out for summer, beautiful summer, over country and town. All the snow will melt; the cold winds will be driven away; we shall rule; all will become green, and then you will have companions, syringas, laburnums, and roses; but you are the first, so graceful, so delicate!


You have come too early. We have still the power, and you shall feel it, and give it up to us. You should have stayed quietly at home and not have run out to make a display of yourself. Your time is not come yet!


You'll break! and fade, and fade! What did you want out here? Why did you let yourself be tempted? The Sunbeam only made game of you. Now you have what you deserve, you summer gauk.


Summer gauk!


O summer gauk! yonder stands one--how beautiful, how beautiful! The first one, the only one!


He shall be my summer gauk,


My friend, be a winter gauk.


Why, there's a flower! a snowdrop, a summer gauk, a poet gauk! That flower must have been put in there with a meaning! Poor Ambrosius Stub! he was a summer fool too, a poet fool; he came too early, before his time, and therefore he had to taste the sharp winds, and wander about as a guest from one noble landed proprietor to another, like a flower in a glass of water, a flower in rhymed verses! Summer fool, winter fool, fun and folly--but the first, the only, the fresh young Danish poet of those days. Yes, thou shalt remain as a token in the book, thou little snowdrop: thou hast been put there with a meaning.


I mean to be somebody, and do something useful in the world. I don't care how humble my position is, so that I can only do some good, which will be something. I intend to be a brickmaker; bricks are always wanted, and I shall be really doing something.


Your 'something' is not enough for me, what you talk of doing is nothing at all, it is journeyman's work, or might even be done by a machine. No! I should prefer to be a builder at once, there is something real in that. A man gains a position, he becomes a citizen, has his own sign, his own house of call for his workmen: so I shall be a builder. If all goes well, in time I shall become a master, and have my own journeymen, and my wife will be treated as a master's wife. This is what I call something.


I call it all nothing, not in reality any position. There are many in a town far above a master builder in position. You may be an upright man, but even as a master you will only be ranked among common men. I know better what to do than that. I will be an architect, which will place me among those who possess riches and intellect, and who speculate in art. I shall certainly have to rise by my own endeavors from a bricklayer's laborer, or as a carpenter's apprentice--a lad wearing a paper cap, although I now wear a silk hat. I shall have to fetch beer and spirits for the journeymen, and they will call me 'thou,' which will be an insult. I shall endure it, however, for I shall look upon it all as a mere representation, a masquerade, a mummery, which to-morrow, that is, when I myself as a journeyman, shall have served my time, will vanish, and I shall go my way, and all that has passed will be nothing to me. Then I shall enter the academy, and get instructed in drawing, and be called an architect. I may even attain to rank, and have something placed before or after my name, and I shall build as others have done before me. By this there will be always 'something' to make me remembered, and is not that worth living for?


Not in my opinion. I will never follow the lead of others, and only imitate what they have done. I will be a genius, and become greater than all of you together. I will create a new style of building, and introduce a plan for erecting houses suitable to the climate, with material easily obtained in the country, and thus suit national feeling and the developments of the age, besides building a storey for my own genius.


But supposing the climate and the material are not good for much, that would be very unfortunate for you, and have an influence over your experiments. Nationality may assert itself until it becomes affectation, and the developments of a century may run wild, as youth often does. I see clearly that none of you will ever really be anything worth notice, however you may now fancy it. But do as you like, I shall not imitate you. I mean to keep clear of all these things, and criticize what you do. In every action something imperfect may be discovered, something not right, which I shall make it my business to find out and expose; that will be something, I fancy.


There is something very precise about him; he has a good head-piece, but he does nothing.


While young, I can wander without a care, And build new houses everywhere; Fair and bright are my dreams of home, Always thought of wherever I roam. Hurrah for a workman's life of glee! There's a loved one at home who thinks of me; Home and friends I can ne'er forget, And I mean to be a master yet.


Certainly the street built his house for him.


Hurrah.


It is evidently for the sake of contrast that I and this wretched soul should arrive here exactly at the same time. Pray who are you, my good woman? do you want to get in here too?


I am a poor old woman, without my family. I am old Margaret, that lived in the house on the dyke.


Well, and what have you done--what great deed have you performed down below?


I have done nothing at all in the world that could give me a claim to have these doors open for me. It would be only through mercy that I can be allowed to slip in through the gate.


In what manner did you leave the world?


How I left the world?


why, I can scarcely tell you. During the last years of my life I was sick and miserable, and I was unable to bear creeping out of bed suddenly into the frost and cold. Last winter was a hard winter, but I have got over it all now. There were a few mild days, as your honor, no doubt, knows. The ice lay thickly on the lake, as far one could see. The people came from the town, and walked upon it, and they say there were dancing and skating upon it, I believe, and a great feasting. The sound of beautiful music came into my poor little room where I lay. Towards evening, when the moon rose beautifully, though not yet in her full splendor, I glanced from my bed over the wide sea; and there, just where the sea and sky met, rose a curious white cloud. I lay looking at the cloud till I observed a little black spot in the middle of it, which gradually grew larger and larger, and then I knew what it meant--I am old and experienced; and although this token is not often seen, I knew it, and a shuddering seized me. Twice in my life had I seen this same thing, and I knew that there would be an awful storm, with a spring tide, which would overwhelm the poor people who were now out on the ice, drinking, dancing, and making merry. Young and old, the whole city, were there; who was to warn them, if no one noticed the sign, or knew what it meant as I did? I was so alarmed, that I felt more strength and life than I had done for some time. I got out of bed, and reached the window; I could not crawl any farther from weakness and exhaustion; but I managed to open the window. I saw the people outside running and jumping about on the ice; I saw the beautiful flags waving in the wind; I heard the boys shouting, 'Hurrah!' and the lads and lasses singing, and everything full of merriment and joy. But there was the white cloud with the black spot hanging over them. I cried out as loudly as I could, but no one heard me; I was too far off from the people. Soon would the storm burst, the ice break, and all who were on it be irretrievably lost. They could not hear me, and to go to them was quite out of my power. Oh, if I could only get them safe on land! Then came the thought, as if from heaven, that I would rather set fire to my bed, and let the house be burnt down, than that so many people should perish miserably. I got a light, and in a few moments the red flames leaped up as a beacon to them. I escaped fortunately as far as the threshold of the door; but there I fell down and remained: I could go no farther. The flames rushed out towards me, flickered on the window, and rose high above the roof. The people on the ice became aware of the fire, and ran as fast as possible to help a poor sick woman, who, as they thought, was being burnt to death. There was not one who did not run. I heard them coming, and I also at the same time was conscious of a rush of air and a sound like the roar of heavy artillery. The spring flood was lifting the ice covering, which brake into a thousand pieces. But the people had reached the sea-wall, where the sparks were flying round. I had saved them all; but I suppose I could not survive the cold and fright; so I came up here to the gates of paradise. I am told they are open to poor creatures such as I am, and I have now no house left on earth; but I do not think that will give me a claim to be admitted here.


See, this is what the poor woman has brought. What dost thou bring? I know thou hast accomplished nothing, not even made a single brick. Even if thou couldst return, and at least produce so much, very likely, when made, the brick would be useless, unless done with a good will, which is always something. But thou canst not return to earth, and I can do nothing for thee.


His brother made all the stone and bricks, and sent them to me to build my poor little dwelling, which was a great deal to do for a poor woman like me. Could not all these bricks and pieces be as a wall of stone to prevail for him? It is an act of mercy; he is wanting it now; and here is the very fountain of mercy.


Then, thy brother, he who has been looked upon as the meanest of you all, he whose honest deeds to thee appeared so humble,--it is he who has sent you this heavenly gift. Thou shalt not be turned away. Thou shalt have permission to stand without the gate and reflect, and repent of thy life on earth; but thou shalt not be admitted here until thou hast performed one good deed of repentance, which will indeed for thee be something.


I could have expressed that better,


We had such an excellent dinner yesterday. I sat number twenty-one below the mouse-king, which was not a bad place. Shall I tell you what we had? Everything was first rate. Mouldy bread, tallow candle, and sausage. And then, when we had finished that course, the same came on all over again; it was as good as two feasts. We were very sociable, and there was as much joking and fun as if we had been all of one family circle. Nothing was left but the sausage skewers, and this formed a subject of conversation, till at last it turned to the proverb, 'Soup from sausage skins;' or, as the people in the neighboring country call it, 'Soup from a sausage skewer.' Every one had heard the proverb, but no one had ever tasted the soup, much less prepared it. A capital toast was drunk to the inventor of the soup, and some one said he ought to be made a relieving officer to the poor. Was not that witty? Then the old mouse-king rose and promised that the young lady-mouse who should learn how best to prepare this much-admired and savory soup should be his queen, and a year and a day should be allowed for the purpose.


That was not at all a bad proposal, but how is the soup made?


Ah, that is more than I can tell you. All the young lady mice were asking the same question. They wished very much to be queen, but they did not want to take the trouble of going out into the world to learn how to make soup, which was absolutely necessary to be done first. But it is not every one who would care to leave her family, or her happy corner by the fire-side at home, even to be made queen. It is not always easy to find bacon and cheese-rind in foreign lands every day, and it is not pleasant to have to endure hunger, and be perhaps, after all, eaten up alive by the cat.


Ah, yes, there is always some trouble mixed up with the greatest pleasure,


When I first went out into the world,


I fancied, as so many of my age do, that I already knew everything, but it was not so. It takes years to acquire great knowledge. I went at once to sea in a ship bound for the north. I had been told that the ship's cook must know how to prepare every dish at sea, and it is easy enough to do that with plenty of sides of bacon, and large tubs of salt meat and mouldy flour. There I found plenty of delicate food, but no opportunity for learning how to make soup from a sausage skewer. We sailed on for many days and nights; the ship rocked fearfully, and we did not escape without a wetting. As soon as we arrived at the port to which the ship was bound, I left it, and went on shore at a place far towards the north. It is a wonderful thing to leave your own little corner at home, to hide yourself in a ship where there are sure to be some nice snug corners for shelter, then suddenly to find yourself thousands of miles away in a foreign land. I saw large pathless forests of pine and birch trees, which smelt so strong that I sneezed and thought of sausage. There were great lakes also which looked as black as ink at a distance, but were quite clear when I came close to them. Large swans were floating upon them, and I thought at first they were only foam, they lay so still; but when I saw them walk and fly, I knew what they were directly. They belong to the goose species, one can see that by their walk. No one can attempt to disguise family descent. I kept with my own kind, and associated with the forest and field mice, who, however, knew very little, especially about what I wanted to know, and which had actually made me travel abroad. The idea that soup could be made from a sausage skewer was to them such an out-of-the-way, unlikely thought, that it was repeated from one to another through the whole forest. They declared that the problem would never be solved, that the thing was an impossibility. How little I thought that in this place, on the very first night, I should be initiated into the manner of its preparation. It was the height of summer, which the mice told me was the reason that the forest smelt so strong, and that the herbs were so fragrant, and the lakes with the white swimming swans so dark, and yet so clear. On the margin of the wood, near to three or four houses, a pole, as large as the mainmast of a ship, had been erected, and from the summit hung wreaths of flowers and fluttering ribbons; it was the Maypole. Lads and lasses danced round the pole, and tried to outdo the violins of the musicians with their singing. They were as merry as ever at sunset and in the moonlight, but I took no part in the merry-making. What has a little mouse to do with a Maypole dance? I sat in the soft moss, and held my sausage skewer tight. The moon threw its beams particularly on one spot where stood a tree covered with exceedingly fine moss. I may almost venture to say that it was as fine and soft as the fur of the mouse-king, but it was green, which is a color very agreeable to the eye. All at once I saw the most charming little people marching towards me. They did not reach higher than my knee; they looked like human beings, but were better proportioned, and they called themselves elves. Their clothes were very delicate and fine, for they were made of the leaves of flowers, trimmed with the wings of flies and gnats, which had not a bad effect. By their manner, it appeared as if they were seeking for something. I knew not what, till at last one of them espied me and came towards me, and the foremost pointed to my sausage skewer, and said, 'There, that is just what we want; see, it is pointed at the top; is it not capital?' and the longer he looked at my pilgrim's staff, the more delighted he became. 'I will lend it to you,' said I, 'but not to keep.' 'Oh no, we won't keep it!' they all cried; and then they seized the skewer, which I gave up to them, and danced with it to the spot where the delicate moss grew, and set it up in the middle of the green. They wanted a maypole, and the one they now had seemed cut out on purpose for them. Then they decorated it so beautifully that it was quite dazzling to look at. Little spiders spun golden threads around it, and then it was hung with fluttering veils and flags so delicately white that they glittered like snow in the moonshine. After that they took colors from the butterfly's wing, and sprinkled them over the white drapery which gleamed as if covered with flowers and diamonds, so that I could not recognize my sausage skewer at all. Such a maypole had never been seen in all the world as this. Then came a great company of real elves. Nothing could be finer than their clothes, and they invited me to be present at the feast; but I was to keep at a certain distance, because I was too large for them. Then commenced such music that it sounded like a thousand glass bells, and was so full and strong that I thought it must be the song of the swans. I fancied also that I heard the voices of the cuckoo and the black-bird, and it seemed at last as if the whole forest sent forth glorious melodies--the voices of children, the tinkling of bells, and the songs of the birds; and all this wonderful melody came from the elfin maypole. My sausage peg was a complete peal of bells. I could scarcely believe that so much could have been produced from it, till I remembered into what hands it had fallen. I was so much affected that I wept tears such as a little mouse can weep, but they were tears of joy. The night was far too short for me; there are no long nights there in summer, as we often have in this part of the world. When the morning dawned, and the gentle breeze rippled the glassy mirror of the forest lake, all the delicate veils and flags fluttered away into thin air; the waving garlands of the spider's web, the hanging bridges and galleries, or whatever else they may be called, vanished away as if they had never been. Six elves brought me back my sausage skewer, and at the same time asked me to make any request, which they would grant if in their power; so I begged them, if they could, to tell me how to make soup from a sausage skewer.


How do we make it? Why you have just seen it; you scarcely knew your sausage skewer again, I am sure.


What use will it be, to the mouse-king or to our whole mighty kingdom that I have seen all these beautiful things? I cannot shake the sausage peg and say, Look, here is the skewer, and now the soup will come. That would only produce a dish to be served when people were keeping a fast.


Look here, I will anoint your pilgrim's staff, so that when you return to your own home and enter the king's castle, you have only to touch the king with your staff, and violets will spring forth and cover the whole of it, even in the coldest winter time; so I think I have given you really something to carry home, and a little more than something.


But what was the something more of which you spoke just now?


Why. I think it is what they call 'effect;' Violets, the elf told me, are for the sight, the smell, and the touch; so we have only now to produce the effect of hearing and tasting;


That is a strange sort of soup, shall we not now hear about the preparation?


That is all,


That all! then we shall be glad to hear what information the next may have to give us.


I was born in the library, at a castle. Very few members of our family ever had the good fortune to get into the dining-room, much less the store-room. On my journey, and here to-day, are the only times I have ever seen a kitchen. We were often obliged to suffer hunger in the library, but then we gained a great deal of knowledge. The rumor reached us of the royal prize offered to those who should be able to make soup from a sausage skewer. Then my old grandmother sought out a manuscript which, however, she could not read, but had heard it read, and in it was written, 'Those who are poets can make soup of sausage skewers.' She then asked me if I was a poet. I felt myself quite innocent of any such pretensions. Then she said I must go out and make myself a poet. I asked again what I should be required to do, for it seemed to me quite as difficult as to find out how to make soup of a sausage skewer. My grandmother had heard a great deal of reading in her day, and she told me three principal qualifications were necessary--understanding, imagination, and feeling. 'If you can manage to acquire these three, you will be a poet, and the sausage-skewer soup will be quite easy to you.' So I went forth into the world, and turned my steps towards the west, that I might become a poet. Understanding is the most important matter in everything. I knew that, for the two other qualifications are not thought much of; so I went first to seek for understanding. Where was I to find it? 'Go to the ant and learn wisdom,' said the great Jewish king. I knew that from living in a library. So I went straight on till I came to the first great ant-hill, and then I set myself to watch, that I might become wise. The ants are a very respectable people, they are wisdom itself. All they do is like the working of a sum in arithmetic, which comes right. 'To work and to lay eggs,' say they, and to provide for posterity, is to live out your time properly;' and that they truly do. They are divided into the clean and the dirty ants, their rank is pointed out by a number, and the ant-queen is number ONE; and her opinion is the only correct one on everything; she seems to have the whole wisdom of the world in her, which was just the important matter I wished to acquire. She said a great deal which was no doubt very clever; yet to me it sounded like nonsense. She said the ant-hill was the loftiest thing in the world, and yet close to the mound stood a tall tree, which no one could deny was loftier, much loftier, but no mention was made of the tree. One evening an ant lost herself on this tree; she had crept up the stem, not nearly to the top, but higher than any ant had ever ventured; and when at last she returned home she said that she had found something in her travels much higher than the ant-hill. The rest of the ants considered this an insult to the whole community; so she was condemned to wear a muzzle and to live in perpetual solitude. A short time afterwards another ant got on the tree, and made the same journey and the same discovery, but she spoke of it cautiously and indefinitely, and as she was one of the superior ants and very much respected, they believed her, and when she died they erected an eggshell as a monument to her memory, for they cultivated a great respect for science. I saw,


that the ants were always running to and fro with her burdens on their backs. Once I saw one of them drop her load; she gave herself a great deal of trouble in trying to raise it again, but she could not succeed. Then two others came up and tried with all their strength to help her, till they nearly dropped their own burdens in doing so; then they were obliged to stop for a moment in their help, for every one must think of himself first. And the ant-queen remarked that their conduct that day showed that they possessed kind hearts and good understanding. 'These two qualities,' she continued, 'place us ants in the highest degree above all other reasonable beings. Understanding must therefore be seen among us in the most prominent manner, and my wisdom is greater than all.' And so saying she raised herself on her two hind legs, that no one else might be mistaken for her. I could not therefore make an error, so I ate her up. We are to go to the ants to learn wisdom, and I had got the queen.


Yes, the birds sing up above in the branches, and talk to each other about the beautiful fields they have visited in foreign lands; and on one of the withered boughs a stork has built his nest,--it is beautifully arranged, and besides it is pleasant to hear a little about the land of the pyramids. All this pleases Phantaesus, but it is not enough for him; I am obliged to relate to him of my life in the woods; and to go back to my childhood, when I was little, and the tree so small and delicate that a stinging-nettle could overshadow it, and I have to tell everything that has happened since then till now that the tree is so large and strong. Sit you down now under the green bindwood and pay attention, when Phantaesus comes I will find an opportunity to lay hold of his wing and to pull out one of the little feathers. That feather you shall have; a better was never given to any poet, it will be quite enough for you.'


I seized and put it in water, and kept it there till it was quite soft. It was very heavy and indigestible, but I managed to nibble it up at last. It is not so easy to nibble one's self into a poet, there are so many things to get through. Now, however, I had two of them, understanding and imagination; and through these I knew that the third was to be found in the library. A great man has said and written that there are novels whose sole and only use appeared to be that they might relieve mankind of overflowing tears--a kind of sponge, in fact, for sucking up feelings and emotions. I remembered a few of these books, they had always appeared tempting to the appetite; they had been much read, and were so greasy, that they must have absorbed no end of emotions in themselves. I retraced my steps to the library, and literally devoured a whole novel, that is, properly speaking, the interior or soft part of it; the crust, or binding, I left. When I had digested not only this, but a second, I felt a stirring within me; then I ate a small piece of a third romance, and felt myself a poet. I said it to myself, and told others the same. I had head-ache and back-ache, and I cannot tell what aches besides. I thought over all the stories that may be said to be connected with sausage pegs, and all that has ever been written about skewers, and sticks, and staves, and splinters came to my thoughts; the ant-queen must have had a wonderfully clear understanding. I remembered the man who placed a white stick in his mouth by which he could make himself and the stick invisible. I thought of sticks as hobby-horses, staves of music or rhyme, of breaking a stick over a man's back, and heaven knows how many more phrases of the same sort relating to sticks, staves, and skewers. All my thoughts rein on skewers, sticks of wood, and staves; and as I am, at last, a poet, and I have worked terribly hard to make myself one, I can of course make poetry on anything. I shall therefore be able to wait upon you every day in the week with a poetical history of a skewer. And that is my soup.


In that case, we will hear what the third mouse has to say.


Squeak, squeak,


I started off at once to the largest town, but the name of it has escaped me. I have a very bad memory for names. I was carried from the railway, with some forfeited goods, to the jail, and on arriving I made my escape, and ran into the house of the turnkey. The turnkey was speaking of his prisoners, especially of one who had uttered thoughtless words. These words had given rise to other words, and at length they were written down and registered: 'The whole affair is like making soup of sausage skewers,' said he, 'but the soup may cost him his neck.'


Now this raised in me an interest for the prisoner, and I watched my opportunity, and slipped into his apartment, for there is a mouse-hole to be found behind every closed door. The prisoner looked pale; he had a great beard and large, sparkling eyes. There was a lamp burning, but the walls were so black that they only looked the blacker for it. The prisoner scratched pictures and verses with white chalk on the black walls, but I did not read the verses. I think he found his confinement wearisome, so that I was a welcome guest. He enticed me with bread-crumbs, with whistling, and with gentle words, and seemed so friendly towards me, that by degrees I gained confidence in him, and we became friends; he divided his bread and water with me, gave me cheese and sausage, and I really began to love him. Altogether, I must own that it was a very pleasant intimacy. He let me run about on his hand, and on his arm, and into his sleeve; and I even crept into his beard, and he called me his little friend. I forgot what I had come out into the world for; forgot my sausage skewer which I had laid in a crack in the floor--it is lying there still. I wished to stay with him always where I was, for I knew that if I went away the poor prisoner would have no one to be his friend, which is a sad thing. I stayed, but he did not. He spoke to me so mournfully for the last time, gave me double as much bread and cheese as usual, and kissed his hand to me. Then he went away, and never came back. I know nothing more of his history.


He said something about soup from a sausage skewer, but I could not trust him.


You poor little mouse. I will set you free.


You had better go and make some soup from sausage skewers.


squeak.


he is so terribly proud of it, that he imagines himself an owl in the tower;--wants to do great things, but only succeeds in small; all soup on a sausage skewer. Soup from a sausage skewer, is only a proverb amongst mankind, and may be understood in many ways. Each believes his own way the best, and after all, the proverb signifies nothing.


Nothing!


Your truth is a falsehood. I can prepare the soup, and I mean to do so.


I did not travel. I stayed in this country: that was the right way. One gains nothing by travelling--everything can be acquired here quite as easily; so I stayed at home. I have not obtained what I know from supernatural beings. I have neither swallowed it, nor learnt it from conversing with owls. I have got it all from my reflections and thoughts. Will you now set the kettle on the fire--so? Now pour the water in--quite full--up to the brim; place it on the fire; make up a good blaze; keep it burning, that the water may boil; it must boil over and over. There, now I throw in the skewer. Will the mouse-king be pleased now to dip his tail into the boiling water, and stir it round with the tail. The longer the king stirs it, the stronger the soup will become. Nothing more is necessary, only to stir it.


Can no one else do this?


No, only in the tail of the mouse-king is this power contained.


Oh, certainly, by all means, you must be my queen; and we will let the soup question rest till our golden wedding, fifty years hence; so that the poor in my kingdom, who are then to have plenty of food, will have something to look forward to for a long time, with great joy.


I should have told it so--and so--and so.


It must look very grand,


Stork, stork, fly away, Stand not on one leg, I pray, See your wife is in her nest, With her little ones at rest. They will hang one, And fry another; They will shoot a third, And roast his brother.


Just hear what those boys are singing, they say we shall be hanged and roasted.


Never mind what they say; you need not listen. They can do no harm. See. How quiet your father stands, although he is only on one leg.


But we are very much frightened,


They will hang one, And roast another.


I will teach you to fly, and when you have learnt, we will fly into the meadows, and pay a visit to the frogs, who will bow themselves to us in the water, and cry 'Croak, croak,' and then we shall eat them up; that will be fun.


And what next?


Then, all the storks in the country will assemble together, and go through their autumn manoeuvres, so that it is very important for every one to know how to fly properly. If they do not, the general will thrust them through with his beak, and kill them. Therefore you must take pains and learn, so as to be ready when the drilling begins.


Then we may be killed after all, as the boys say; and hark! they are singing again.


Listen to me, and not to them. After the great review is over, we shall fly away to warm countries far from hence, where there are mountains and forests. To Egypt, where we shall see three-cornered houses built of stone, with pointed tops that reach nearly to the clouds. They are called Pyramids, and are older than a stork could imagine; and in that country, there is a river that overflows its banks, and then goes back, leaving nothing but mire; there we can walk about, and eat frogs in abundance.


Oh, o--h!


Yes, it is a delightful place; there is nothing to do all day long but eat, and while we are so well off out there, in this country there will not be a single green leaf on the trees; and the weather will be so cold that the clouds will freeze, and fall on the earth in little white rags.


Will the naughty boys freeze and fall in pieces?


No, they will not freeze and fall into pieces, but they will be very cold, and be obliged to sit all day in a dark, gloomy room, while we shall be flying about in foreign lands, where there are blooming flowers and warm sunshine. Come. Now you must learn to fly. Look at me, you must hold your heads in this way, and place your feet so. Once, twice, once, twice--that is it. Now you will be able to take care of yourselves in the world. I don't want to fly. I don't care about going to warm countries. Would you like to stay here and freeze when the winter comes? or till the boys comes to hang you, or to roast you?--Well then, I'll call them.


Oh no, no,


Shall we fly down, and pick their eyes out?


No; leave them alone. Listen to me; that is much more important. Now then. One-two-three. Now to the right. One-two-three. Now to the left, round the chimney. There now, that was very good. That last flap of the wings was so easy and graceful, that I shall give you permission to fly with me to-morrow to the marshes. There will be a number of very superior storks there with their families, and I expect you to show them that my children are the best brought up of any who may be present. You must strut about proudly--it will look well and make you respected.


But may we not punish those naughty boys?


No; let them scream away as much as they like. You can fly from them now up high amid the clouds, and will be in the land of the pyramids when they are freezing, and have not a green leaf on the trees or an apple to eat.


We will revenge ourselves,


We must see first, how you acquit yourselves at the grand review. If you get on badly there, the general will thrust his beak through you, and you will be killed, as the boys said, though not exactly in the same manner. So we must wait and see.


You shall see,


Now let us have our revenge,


Yes, certainly. I have thought upon the best way to be revenged. I know the pond in which all the little children lie, waiting till the storks come to take them to their parents. The prettiest little babies lie there dreaming more sweetly than they will ever dream in the time to come. All parents are glad to have a little child, and children are so pleased with a little brother or sister. Now we will fly to the pond and fetch a little baby for each of the children who did not sing that naughty song to make game of the storks.


But the naughty boy, who began the song first, what shall we do to him?


There lies in the pond a little dead baby who has dreamed itself to death. We will take it to the naughty boy, and he will cry because we have brought him a little dead brother. But you have not forgotten the good boy who said it was a shame to laugh at animals: we will take him a little brother and sister too, because he was good. He is called Peter, and you shall all be called Peter in future.


One never forgets a feast like that, however old one may grow,


It was a ridiculous list--horse-radish, soup, and stuffed cabbage.


You think I shall keep him, do you not? Our all-merciful God will surely not take him away from me.


Death has been with you in your room. I saw him hastening away with your little child; he strides faster than the wind, and never brings back what he has taken away.


Only tell me which way he has gone, tell me the way, I will find him.


I know the way, but before I tell you, you must sing to me all the songs that you have sung to your child; I love these songs, I have heard them before. I am Night, and I saw your tears flow as you sang.


I will sing them all to you, but do not detain me now. I must overtake him, and find my child.


Go to the right, into the dark forest of fir-trees; for I saw Death take that road with your little child.


Have you not seen Death go by, with my little child?


Yes, but I will not tell you which way he has taken until you have warmed me in your bosom. I am freezing to death here, and turning to ice.


You will never succeed in this, let us make an agreement together which will be better. I love to collect pearls, and your eyes are the purest I have ever seen. If you will weep those eyes away in tears into my waters, then I will take you to the large hothouse where Death dwells and rears flowers and trees, every one of which is a human life.


Oh, what would I not give to reach my child! Where shall I find Death, who went away with my little child?


He has not arrived here yet. How have you found your way here? and who helped you?


God has helped me. He is merciful; will you not be merciful too? Where shall I find my little child?


I did not know the child, and you are blind. Many flowers and trees have faded to-night, and Death will soon come to transplant them. You know already that every human being has a life-tree or a life-flower, just as may be ordained for him. They look like other plants; but they have hearts that beat. Children's hearts also beat: from that you may perhaps be able to recognize your child. But what will you give me, if I tell you what more you will have to do?


I have nothing to give, but I would go to the ends of the earth for you.


I can give you nothing to do for me there, but you can give me your long black hair. You know yourself that it is beautiful, and it pleases me. You can take my white hair in exchange, which will be something in return.


Do you ask nothing more than that? I will give it to you with pleasure.


That is it,


Do not touch the flower, but place yourself here; and when Death comes--I expect him every minute--do not let him pull up that plant, but threaten him that if he does you will serve the other flowers in the same manner. This will make him afraid; for he must account to God for each of them. None can be uprooted, unless he receives permission to do so.


How did you find your way hither? how could you come here faster than I have?


I am a mother,


You cannot prevail against me,


But a God of mercy can,


I only do His will. I am his gardener. I take all His flowers and trees, and transplant them into the gardens of Paradise in an unknown land. How they flourish there, and what that garden resembles, I may not tell you.


Give me back my child. I will tear up all your flowers, for I am in despair.


Do not touch them. You say you are unhappy; and would you make another mother as unhappy as yourself?


Another mother!


There are your eyes. I fished them up out of the lake for you. They were shining brightly; but I knew not they were yours. Take them back--they are clearer now than before--and then look into the deep well which is close by here. I will tell you the names of the two flowers which you wished to pull up; and you will see the whole future of the human beings they represent, and what you were about to frustrate and destroy. Both are the will of God,


Which is the unhappy flower, and which is the blessed one?


That I may not tell you, but thus far you may learn, that one of the two flowers represents your own child. It was the fate of your child that you saw,--the future of your own child.


Which of them belongs to my child? Tell me that. Deliver the unhappy child. Release it from so much misery. Rather take it away. Take it to the kingdom of God. Forget my tears and my entreaties; forget all that I have said or done.


I do not understand you. Will you have your child back? or shall I carry him away to a place that you do not know?


Grant not my prayers, when they are contrary to Thy will, which at all times must be the best. Oh, hear them not;


Tweet, tweet,


That was in the very old times. Yes, then, but in our own days?


This is the last swan--the last song from the swan's nest.


Will you marry me?


I wish it were a little pussy cat,


Oh, how nicely it is made,


It is more than nice, it is charming.


For shame, pa, it is not artificial, it is natural!


For shame, it is natural,


Let us first see what the other case contains before we are angry,


Superbe, charmant,


How much the bird reminds me of the musical box of the late lamented empress, it has exactly the same tone, the same execution.


You are right,


I hope it is not natural,


Yes, certainly it is natural,


Then let it fly,


Good day, emperor, could you not give me some employment at the court?


There are so many, who apply for places, that for the present I have no vacancy, but I will remember you. But wait a moment; it just comes into my mind, I require somebody to look after my pigs, for I have a great many.


A jolly old sow once lived in a sty, Three little piggies had she,


That is the tune I know. He must be a well-educated swineherd. Go and ask him how much the instrument is.


What will you take for your pot?


I will have ten kisses from the princess,


God forbid,


Well, I cannot sell it for less,


What did he say?


I really cannot tell you,


You can whisper it into my ear. It is very naughty. Ask him, if he will be satisfied with ten kisses from one of my ladies.


No, thank you, ten kisses from the princess, or I keep my pot.


That is tiresome. But you must stand before me, so that nobody can see it.


We know who will eat soup and pancakes; we know who will eat porridge and cutlets; oh, how interesting!


Very interesting, indeed. But you must not betray me, for I am the emperor's daughter.


Of course not,


But that is superbe. I have never heard a more beautiful composition. Go down and ask him what the instrument costs; but I shall not kiss him again.


He will have a hundred kisses from the princess,


I believe he is mad. One must encourage art. I am the emperor's daughter! Tell him I will give him ten kisses, as I did the other day; the remainder one of my ladies can give him.


But we do not like to kiss him,


That is nonsense, if I can kiss him, you can also do it. Remember that I give you food and employment.


A hundred kisses from the princess, or everybody keeps his own.


Place yourselves before me,


I wonder what that crowd near the pigsty means! The ladies of the court are up to some mischief, I think. I shall have to go down and see. What does this mean? Go out of my sight,


Alas, unfortunate creature that I am! I wish I had accepted the prince. Oh, how wretched I am!


I have now learnt to despise you. You refused an honest prince; you did not appreciate the rose and the nightingale; but you did not mind kissing a swineherd for his toys; you have no one but yourself to blame!


A jolly old sow once lived in a sty, Three little piggies has she,


You are beautiful; I should like to eat you!


It is the flower of Scotland. It blooms in the scutcheon of my country. Give me yonder flower.


I am something more than I knew of. I suppose my right place is really inside the palings, and not outside. One is often strangely placed in this world; but now I have at least managed to get one of my people within the pale, and indeed into a buttonhole!


That match I made up! I shall certainly be transplanted into the garden, and perhaps put into a pot, which crowds one in. That is said to be the greatest of all honors. I am to be transplanted into a pot.


The thievish rabble! If I could only stab every one of them! But I cannot. You come in good time. I am expecting every moment to get across the fence.


One is often of so grand a family, that one may not know it,


Up the hill, down the dale we wend, That is life, from beginning to end.


Here I am standing yet! It is as if nobody thought of me, and yet I managed the match. They were betrothed, and they have had their wedding; it is now a week ago. I won't take a single step-because I can't.


There's the great thistle still growing. It has no flowers now.


Oh, yes, the ghost of the last one is there still,


It is pretty, certainly. Such an one must be carved on the frame of our picture.


What one can experience! My first born was put into a buttonhole, and my youngest has been put in a frame. Where shall I go?


Come to me, my nibble darling! I can't get across to you.


If the children are only good, the parents do not mind standing outside the garden pale.


That's an honorable thought. You shall also have a good place.


In a pot or in a frame?


In a story,


I have made a discovery, the greatest that has been made for centuries; and they have kept me locked up here for more than twenty years!


A madman. What whimsical ideas these lunatics have! He imagines that one can propel things by means of steam.


Yet it moves!


The vault of heaven is above me everywhere, and what do I want more?


Ay, free, if only from the unbearable sufferings of the body!


Conceit! Foolery!


It has happened just as he deserved. Put the crack-brain under lock and key!


To Europe!


to the land of our ancestors, the glorious land of monuments and fancy--to Europe!


There is really a great deal to be seen in Europe, and we have seen it in a week, according to the directions of the great traveller in his celebrated work, 'How to See All Europe in a Week.'


Tin soldiers!


That is the wife for me, but she is too grand, and lives in a castle, while I have only a box to live in, five-and-twenty of us altogether, that is no place for her. Still I must try and make her acquaintance.


Tin soldier, don't wish for what does not belong to you. Very well; wait till to-morrow, then,


Here I am,


Look, there is a tin soldier. He ought to have a boat to sail in.


Where am I going now? This is the black goblin's fault, I am sure. Ah, well, if the little lady were only here with me in the boat, I should not care for any darkness.


Have you a passport? give it to me at once. Stop him, stop him; he has not paid toll, and has not shown his pass.


Farewell, warrior! ever brave, Drifting onward to thy grave.


I declare here is the tin soldier.


Left, right--left, right.


Good evening, soldier; you have a very fine sword, and a large knapsack, and you are a real soldier; so you shall have as much money as ever you like.


Thank you, old witch,


Do you see that large tree. Well, it is quite hollow inside, and you must climb to the top, when you will see a hole, through which you can let yourself down into the tree to a great depth. I will tie a rope round your body, so that I can pull you up again when you call out to me.


But what am I to do, down there in the tree?


Get money, for you must know that when you reach the ground under the tree, you will find yourself in a large hall, lighted up by three hundred lamps; you will then see three doors, which can be easily opened, for the keys are in all the locks. On entering the first of the chambers, to which these doors lead, you will see a large chest, standing in the middle of the floor, and upon it a dog seated, with a pair of eyes as large as teacups. But you need not be at all afraid of him; I will give you my blue checked apron, which you must spread upon the floor, and then boldly seize hold of the dog, and place him upon it. You can then open the chest, and take from it as many pence as you please, they are only copper pence; but if you would rather have silver money, you must go into the second chamber. Here you will find another dog, with eyes as big as mill-wheels; but do not let that trouble you. Place him upon my apron, and then take what money you please. If, however, you like gold best, enter the third chamber, where there is another chest full of it. The dog who sits on this chest is very dreadful; his eyes are as big as a tower, but do not mind him. If he also is placed upon my apron, he cannot hurt you, and you may take from the chest what gold you will.


This is not a bad story, but what am I to give you, you old witch? for, of course, you do not mean to tell me all this for nothing.


No, but I do not ask for a single penny. Only promise to bring me an old tinder-box, which my grandmother left behind the last time she went down there.


Very well; I promise. Now tie the rope round my body.


Here it is, and here is my blue checked apron.


You're a pretty fellow. You had better not look at me in that way, you will make your eyes water; Good morning,


Now pull me out, you old witch.


Have you got the tinder-box?


No; I declare I quite forgot it. What are you going to do with the tinder-box?


That is nothing to you, you have the money, now give me the tinder-box.


I tell you what, if you don't tell me what you are going to do with it, I will draw my sword and cut off your head.


No,


Where can I see her?


She is not to be seen at all, she lives in a large copper castle, surrounded by walls and towers. No one but the king himself can pass in or out, for there has been a prophecy that she will marry a common soldier, and the king cannot bear to think of such a marriage.


I should like very much to see her,


What orders, master?


Hallo, well this is a pleasant tinderbox, if it brings me all I wish for. Bring me some money,


Every one says she is very beautiful, but what is the use of that if she is to be shut up in a copper castle surrounded by so many towers. Can I by any means get to see her. Stop! where is my tinder-box? It is midnight, yet I should very much like to see the princess, if only for a moment.


That is a very pretty story, indeed,


Here it is,


No, my dear husband, it must be that one,


And here is one, and there is another!


To-morrow you will be hanged.


Hallo, you shoemaker's boy, you need not be in such a hurry. There will be nothing to see till I come; but if you will run to the house where I have been living, and bring me my tinder-box, you shall have four shillings, but you must put your best foot foremost.


Help me now, that I may not be hanged,


I will not be touched,


Good soldier, you shall be our king, and you shall marry the beautiful princess.


She's thick, and fat and ugly, but one of them has a jewel in his head, or else I have the jewel. Oh, it is such a splendid and precious thing, that I cannot describe it. It's something which one carries about for one's own pleasure, and that makes other people angry. But don't ask me any questions, for I shan't answer you.


Well, I haven't got the jewel. Why should I have such a precious thing? And if it makes others angry, it can't give me any pleasure. No, I only wish I could get to the edge of the well, and look out; it must be beautiful up there.


You'd better stay where you are,


Quack!


Ugh, you beast! You're the ugliest thing I've seen for one while.


It's much nicer here than down in the well! I should like to stay here my whole life long! I wonder what is to be found up here? As I have come so far, I must try to go still farther. I've got to a dry place now, and no mistake. It's almost too much of a good thing here; it tickles one so. If one could only make such a journey as that! Croak! how capital that would be. It's a glorious thing to live! glorious to get out of the well, and to lie among the stinging-nettles, and to crawl along the dusty road. But onward, onward! that we may find frogs or a little toad. We can't do without that; nature alone is not enough for one.


It will be too damp for you here, but you are very welcome! Are you a he or a she? But it doesn't matter; you are equally welcome.


Now I shall resume my journey. Perhaps after all, I am still in a well, only in a larger well. I must get higher yet; I feel a great restlessness and longing. I wonder if that is the bucket which will be let down, and into which I must step to get higher up? Or is the sun the great bucket? How great it is! how bright it is! It can take up all. I must look out, that I may not miss the opportunity. Oh, how it seems to shine in my head! I don't think the jewel can shine brighter. But I haven't the jewel; not that I cry about that--no, I must go higher up, into splendor and joy! I feel so confident, and yet I am afraid. It's a difficult step to take, and yet it must be taken. Onward, therefore, straight onward! What a number of different creatures there are that I never knew! and how beautiful and great the world is! But one must look round in it, and not stay in one spot. How green it is here! how beautiful it is here!


I know that, my leaf is the largest here. It hides half the world from me, but I don't care for the world.


Cluck, cluck! It doesn't do that with a good will. Aha, it has allies. Just look at the crawling thing! I don't care for the little green morsel; it would only tickle my throat.


I wriggled myself free from the Fowl. You are very disagreeable to look at. Cannot I be left in peace on my own property? Now I smell cabbage; now I am near my leaf. Nothing is so beautiful as property. But I must go higher up.


Yes, higher up, higher-up! She feels just as I do; but she's not in a good humor to-day. That's because of the fright. We all want to go higher up. How high up they live! If one could only get as high as that!


There sits a good specimen of a toad. I must have that fellow in a bottle of spirits.


You have two of them already. Let the thing sit there and enjoy its life.


But it's so wonderfully ugly,


Yes, if we could find the jewel in its head. I too should be for cutting it open.


A jewel! You seem to know a great deal about natural history.


But is there not something beautiful in the popular belief that just as the toad is the ugliest of animals, it should often carry the most precious jewel in its head? Is it not just the same thing with men? What a jewel that was that Aesop had, and still more, Socrates!


Those two also were speaking of the jewel. What a good thing that I have not got it! I might have been in a very disagreeable position.


Man is the most conceited creature! Listen how their jaws are wagging; and for all that they can't clap properly. They boast of their gifts of eloquence and their language! Yes, a fine language truly! Why, it changes in every day's journey we make. One of them doesn't understand another. Now, we can speak our language over the whole earth--up in the North and in Egypt. And then men are not able to fly, moreover. They rush along by means of an invention they call 'railway;' but they often break their necks over it. It makes my beak turn cold when I think of it. The world could get on without men. We could do without them very well, so long as we only keep frogs and earth-worms.


That was a powerful speech. What a great man that is yonder! and how high he sits! Higher than ever I saw any one sit yet; and how he can swim! I must go to Egypt! If the Stork or one of his young ones would only take me! I would oblige him in return. Yes, I shall get to Egypt, for I feel so happy! All the longing and all the pleasure that I feel is much better than having a jewel in one's head.


Quunk!--ah!


Shall we be married, as we live in the same box? Look at me. What do you say now? Shall we be engaged to each other? We should suit so well; you spring, and I dance. No one could be happier than we should be.


Indeed! do you think so? Perhaps you do not know that my father and mother were morocco slippers, and that I have a Spanish cork in my body.


Yes; but I am made of mahogany. The major himself turned me. He has a turning lathe of his own, and it is a great amusement to him.


Can I believe it?


May I never be whipped again, if I am not telling you the truth.


You certainly know how to speak for yourself very well, but I cannot accept your proposal. I am almost engaged to a swallow. Every time I fly up in the air, he puts his head out of the nest, and says, 'Will you?' and I have said, 'Yes,' to myself silently, and that is as good as being half engaged; but I will promise never to forget you.


Much good that will be to me,


I know very well where she is, she is in the swallow's nest, and has married the swallow.


Now I am in a nice place, my gilding will soon be washed off here. Oh dear, what a set of rabble I have got amongst!


Thank goodness, here comes one of my own class, with whom I can talk. I am made of morocco. I was sewn together by a young lady, and I have a Spanish cork in my body; but no one would think it, to look at me now. I was once engaged to a swallow; but I fell in here from the gutter under the roof, and I have lain here more than five years, and have been thoroughly drenched. Believe me, it is a long time for a young maiden.


Ah, here is a gilt top.


You have been a good son, John, and God will help you on in the world.


See what a bride you have won. She is the loveliest maiden on the whole earth.


You must not be so sorrowful, John. Do you see the beautiful blue sky above you? Your father is up there, and he prays to the loving Father of all, that you may do well in the future.


I will always be good, and then I shall go to be with my father in heaven. What joy it will be when we see each other again! How much I shall have to relate to him, and how many things he will be able to explain to me of the delights of heaven, and teach me as he once did on earth. Oh, what joy it will be!


Tweet, tweet;


Farewell.


Welcome to the green wood, where all is fresh and bright.


Good morning, good morning. Are you not up yet?


I will go in here, and sit down in a corner; for I am quite tired, and want rest.


Why do you do this? it is very wicked. Leave him to rest in peace, in Christ's name.


Nonsense. He has cheated us; he owed us money which he could not pay, and now he is dead we shall not get a penny; so we mean to have our revenge, and let him lie like a dog outside the church door.


I have only fifty dollars, it is all I possess in the world, but I will give it to you if you will promise me faithfully to leave the dead man in peace. I shall be able to get on without the money; I have strong and healthy limbs, and God will always help me.


Why, of course, if you will pay his debt we will both promise not to touch him. You may depend upon that;


Hallo, comrade, where are you travelling?


Into the wide world. I am only a poor lad, I have neither father nor mother, but God will help me.


I am going into the wide world also, shall we keep each other company?


With all my heart,


That is rather too high a price,


What can you want with those three fern rods?


Oh, they will make capital brooms, and I like them because I have strange whims sometimes.


How dark the sky is becoming, and look at those thick, heavy clouds.


Those are not clouds, they are mountains--large lofty mountains--on the tops of which we should be above the clouds, in the pure, free air. Believe me, it is delightful to ascend so high, tomorrow we shall be there.


Take this from me, but do rub my husband and his courtiers.


How good and loving God is to give us all this beauty and loveliness in the world to make us happy!


It is a beautiful bird, and these large white wings are worth a great deal of money. I will take them with me. You see now that a sword will be very useful.


Heaven defend us!


What a horrible princess! she ought to be well flogged. If I were the old king, I would have her punished in some way.


Hurrah! Hurrah!


It could not be true, that she was really a wicked witch, who ordered people to be hanged or beheaded, if they could not guess her thoughts. Every one has permission to go and ask her hand, even the poorest beggar. I shall pay a visit to the palace. I must go, for I cannot help myself.


Come in,


Wait a bit. Let her alone, you will fare as badly as all the others. Come, I will show you.


Do you see all this? your fate will be the same as those who are here, therefore do not attempt it. You really make me very unhappy,--I take these things to heart so very much.


Good morning.


I do so wish you to do well, we might have continued together much longer, and now I am likely to lose you; you poor dear John! I could shed tears, but I will not make you unhappy on the last night we may be together. We will be merry, really merry this evening; to-morrow, after you are gone, shall be able to weep undisturbed.


Now let us be merry, and drink to the health of the princess.


How it hails, to be sure!


Listen to what I say, you must choose something very easy, he is less likely to guess it then. Think of one of your shoes, he will never imagine it is that. Then cut his head off; and mind you do not forget to bring his eyes with you to-morrow night, that I may eat them.


I may as well say that as anything. Perhaps your dream may come true; still I will say farewell, for if I guess wrong I shall never see you again.


Good morning to you.


What a hail-storm! I have never been out in such weather as this.


Yes, there may be too much of a good thing sometimes. I will find out something for you to think of which he will never guess, unless he is a greater conjuror than myself. But now let us be merry.


To-morrow think of my head.


What have I thought of? You are my master now; this evening our marriage must take place.


I am very pleased to hear it. It is just what I wish.


Hurrah.


high-born gentlemen and beautiful ladies

Here are maidens, young and fair, Dancing in the summer air; Like two spinning-wheels at play, Pretty maidens dance away-- Dance the spring and summer through Till the sole falls from your shoe.


No: my time is up now; I have only paid my debt to you. Do you remember the dead man whom the bad people wished to throw out of his coffin? You gave all you possessed that he might rest in his grave; I am that man.


One must only do the right thing, yes, the right--the correct thing. One must find out the truth concerning every created particle, and keep to that.


By law the land is ruled.


Be thou strong in fame and strong in the battle of life! With truth in thy heart fly toward the land of truth!


Fly with me,


What is near, what is far, when thou art lifted by the mighty genius of mind?


Anders Sandoe Hans Christian.


Maiden is a human name, but hand-rammer is a thing, and we won't be called things--that's insulting us.


My lover would be ready to give up his engagement. He wants to marry me as a maiden, but whether he would have me were I a hand-rammer is a question, so I won't have my name changed.


And I, would rather have both my arms broken off.