God's kindness to us men is beyond all limits.


God, Thy kindness towards us all is without limits.


What is the matter with you?


Well, the matter with me is, that I cannot collect my thoughts, and am unable to grasp the meaning of what you said to-day in church--that there are so many wicked people, and that they should burn eternally. Alas! eternally--how long! I am only a woman and a sinner before God, but I should not have the heart to let even the worst sinner burn for ever, and how could our Lord to do so, who is so infinitely good, and who knows how the wickedness comes from without and within? No, I am unable to imagine that, although you say so.


If any one shall find rest in the grave and mercy before our Lord you shall certainly do so,


Not even you can find eternal rest! You suffer, you best and most pious woman?


Yes,


And can I not obtain rest in the grave for you?


And how?


Give me one hair--only one single hair--from the head of the sinner for whom the fire shall never be extinguished, of the sinner whom God will condemn to eternal punishment in hell.


Yes, one ought to be able to redeem you so easily, you pure, pious woman,


Follow me. It is thus granted to us. By my side you will be able to fly wherever your thoughts wish to go. Invisible to men, we shall penetrate into their most secret chambers; but with sure hand you must find out him who is destined to eternal torture, and before the cock crows he must be found!


Yes, therein, as I believed, as I knew it, are living those who are abandoned to the eternal fire.


Our ball can compare favourably with the king's. Miserable beggars, who are looking in, you are nothing in comparison to me.


Pride, do you see him?


The footman? He is but a poor fool, and not doomed to be tortured eternally by fire!


Be quiet, monster--sleep! This happens every night! Every night!


Whenever a good child dies, an angel of God comes down from heaven, takes the dead child in his arms, spreads out his great white wings, and flies with him over all the places which the child had loved during his life. Then he gathers a large handful of flowers, which he carries up to the Almighty, that they may bloom more brightly in heaven than they do on earth. And the Almighty presses the flowers to His heart, but He kisses the flower that pleases Him best, and it receives a voice, and is able to join the song of the chorus of bliss.


Which of these shall we take with us to heaven to be transplanted there?


Poor rose-bush! let us take it with us to heaven, that it may bloom above in God's garden.


Now we have flowers enough,


We will take this with us. I will tell you why as we fly along. Down in that narrow lane, in a low cellar, lived a poor sick boy; he had been afflicted from his childhood, and even in his best days he could just manage to walk up and down the room on crutches once or twice, but no more. During some days in summer, the sunbeams would lie on the floor of the cellar for about half an hour. In this spot the poor sick boy would sit warming himself in the sunshine, and watching the red blood through his delicate fingers as he held them before his face. Then he would say he had been out, yet he knew nothing of the green forest in its spring verdure, till a neighbor's son brought him a green bough from a beech-tree. This he would place over his head, and fancy that he was in the beech-wood while the sun shone, and the birds carolled gayly. One spring day the neighbor's boy brought him some field-flowers, and among them was one to which the root still adhered. This he carefully planted in a flower-pot, and placed in a window-seat near his bed. And the flower had been planted by a fortunate hand, for it grew, put forth fresh shoots, and blossomed every year. It became a splendid flower-garden to the sick boy, and his little treasure upon earth. He watered it, and cherished it, and took care it should have the benefit of every sunbeam that found its way into the cellar, from the earliest morning ray to the evening sunset. The flower entwined itself even in his dreams--for him it bloomed, for him spread its perfume. And it gladdened his eyes, and to the flower he turned, even in death, when the Lord called him. He has been one year with God. During that time the flower has stood in the window, withered and forgotten, till at length cast out among the sweepings into the street, on the day of the lodgers' removal. And this poor flower, withered and faded as it is, we have added to our nosegay, because it gave more real joy than the most beautiful flower in the garden of a queen.


But how do you know all this?


I know it, because I myself was the poor sick boy who walked upon crutches, and I know my own flower well.


Heaven help us!


I must make one effort to go, to see my darling, the count's sweet child, and press him to my heart. Certainly he must long to see me, too, the young count; no doubt he thinks of me and loves me, as in those days when he would fling his angel-arms round my neck, and lisp 'Anne Liz.' It was music to my ears. Yes, I must make an effort to see him again.


Well, well,


Ah, what bird of ill omen art thou?


You look well, you're fat and plump; you are well off.


Oh yes,


The boat went down with them. Hans the skipper and the boy were both drowned; so there's an end of them. I always thought the boy would be able to help me with a few dollars. He'll never cost you anything more, Anne Lisbeth.


So they were drowned,


The black wretch! he will end by frightening me today.


The world is passing away; hold fast to me, for you are my mother after all; you have an angel in heaven, hold me fast;


If thou art to be saved, we must be saved too. Hold fast, hold fast.


Ha! what was lying yonder?


Hold fast! hold fast!


Hold fast; carry me to consecrated ground!


Hold,


Stop! carry me to consecrated earth. A grave! dig me a grave! Stop! stop! A grave! dig me a grave!


A grave! dig me a grave!


Hold fast! hold fast! and then you may ride again in a nobleman's carriage, and forget your child.


I am the raven-mother; I am the raven-mother,


Only half a grave,


Rend your hearts and not your garments, and turn unto the Lord.


That was just a chance,


Thou hast dug me only half a grave: but thou hast now, for a year and a day, buried me altogether in thy heart, and it is there a mother can best hide her child!


Now I am in the house of God, and in that house we are happy.


Spring is come.


Poor, despised herbs, there is really a difference between them and such as I am. How unhappy they must be, if they can feel as those in my position do! There is a difference indeed, and so there ought to be, or we should all be equals.


Poor, despised plants, it is not your fault that you are so ugly, and that you have such an ugly name; but it is with plants as with men,--there must be a difference.


A difference!


You do not see very far, nor very clearly. Which is the despised plant you so specially pity?


The dandelion. No one ever places it in a nosegay; it is often trodden under foot, there are so many of them; and when they run to seed, they have flowers like wool, which fly away in little pieces over the roads, and cling to the dresses of the people. They are only weeds; but of course there must be weeds. O, I am really very thankful that I was not made like one of these flowers.


Do you see, do you see the beauty of these flowers? do you see their powers of giving pleasure?


Yes, to children,


But beauty is of higher value than all this, only the chosen ones can be admitted into the realms of the beautiful. There is a difference between plants, just as there is a difference between men.


That is your opinion,


See, how wonderfully God has made this little flower. I will paint it with the apple-branch together. Every one admires the beauty of the apple-bough; but this humble flower has been endowed by Heaven with another kind of loveliness; and although they differ in appearance, both are the children of the realms of beauty.


I should like to see Rome, it must be a lovely city, or so many foreigners would not be constantly arriving there. Now, do give me a description of Rome. How does the city look when you enter in at the gate?


I cannot very well describe it, but you enter on a large open space, in the centre of which stands an obelisk, which is a thousand years old.


An organist!


Has the pope a great family?


No; he does not come from a great family.


That is not what I asked. I mean, has he a wife and children?


The pope is not allowed to marry,


I don't like that,


Beautiful Italy!


Oh, to travel there!


Charming! Charming!


I may perhaps win a hundred thousand dollars in the lottery, and if I do, we will travel--I and my daughter; and you, Mr. Alfred, must be our guide. We can all three travel together, with one or two more of our good friends. Yes, we must go, but not to those parts where there are robbers. We will keep to Rome. In the public roads one is always safe.


She has been accustomed to that. She is a beauty, and they are always easily tired. She does sleep rather late; but that makes her eyes so clear.


Good heavens! So that is a burning mountain; but is it not very dangerous to the people who live near it?


Whole cities have been destroyed, for instance, Herculaneum and Pompeii.


Oh, the poor people! And you saw all that with your own eyes?


No; I did not see any of the eruptions which are represented in those pictures; but I will show you a sketch of my own, which represents an eruption I once saw.


What, did you see it throw up white fire?


You are a true successor of Thorwalsden. I suppose it is only on our account that you perform this common-place work yourself, instead of leaving it to your servant to do all that sticking together.


It is really necessary that I should mould the clay myself,


Ah, yes, you are always so polite,


It is difficult to follow you; but I go hobbling along after you with my thoughts, though what you say makes my head whirl round and round. Still I contrive to lay hold on some of it.


Ah, that is some of your mythologies,


Thank heaven we are at home again within our own four walls,


There is no real pleasure in travelling, to tell the truth, it's very wearisome; I beg pardon for saying so. I was soon very tired of it, although I had my children with me; and, besides, it's very expensive work travelling, very expensive. And all those galleries one is expected to see, and the quantity of things you are obliged to run after! It must be done, for very shame; you are sure to be asked when you come back if you have seen everything, and will most likely be told that you've omitted to see what was best worth seeing of all. I got tired at last of those endless Madonnas; I began to think I was turning into a Madonna myself.


And then the living, mamma,


Yes, indeed, no such a thing as a respectable meat soup--their cookery is miserable stuff.


She was beautiful,


she was quite different from the beauties they call 'antiques,' for they are so damaged. A beauty ought to be perfect, and Kaela was a perfect beauty.


He's gone to the very extreme,


he has gone from the most beautiful to the ugliest, and he has forgotten his first wife. Men have no constancy. My husband was a very different man,--but then he died before me.


Pygmalion loved his Galatea,


I once fell in love with a beautiful statue, which awoke to life in my arms; but the kindred soul, which is a gift from heaven, the angel who can feel and sympathize with and elevate us, I have not found and won till now. You came, Sophy, not in the glory of outward beauty, though you are even fairer than is necessary. The chief thing still remains. You came to teach the sculptor that his work is but dust and clay only, an outward form made of a material that decays, and that what we should seek to obtain is the ethereal essence of mind and spirit. Poor Kaela! our life was but as a meeting by the way-side; in yonder world, where we shall know each other from a union of mind, we shall be but mere acquaintances.


That was not a loving speech,


nor spoken like a Christian. In a future state, where there is neither marrying nor giving in marriage, but where, as you say, souls are attracted to each other by sympathy; there everything beautiful develops itself, and is raised to a higher state of existence: her soul will acquire such completeness that it may harmonize with yours, even more than mine, and you will then once more utter your first rapturous exclamation of your love, 'Beautiful, most beautiful!'


Great ones, first, of course,


and then the little ones; but size is not always a proof of greatness.


And pray what do you want?


Golden shoes,


Why, you must be out of your senses,


Golden shoes for you, indeed!


Yes, certainly; golden shoes,


Am I not just as good as that great creature yonder, who is waited upon and brushed, and has food and drink placed before him? And don't I belong to the royal stables?


But why does the horse have golden shoes?


of course you understand the reason?


Understand! Well, I understand that it is a personal slight to me,


It is done to annoy me, so I intend to go out into the world and seek my fortune.


Go along with you,


You're a rude fellow,


Is it not sweet and lovely here? Oh, how beautiful everything is.


I am accustomed to better things,


Do you call this beautiful? Why, there is not even a dung-heap.


How beautiful this world is!


The sun is so warm, I quite enjoy it. And soon I shall go to sleep, and die as they call it, but I shall wake up with beautiful wings to fly with, like a butterfly.


How conceited you are! Fly about as a butterfly, indeed! what of that. I have come out of the Emperor's stable, and no one there, not even the Emperor's horse, who, in fact, wears my cast-off golden shoes, has any idea of flying, excepting myself. To have wings and fly! why, I can do that already; I don't want to be disgusted, and yet I can't help it.


Wonderful weather this, and so refreshing. This linen holds the water together so beautifully, that my hind legs quiver as if I were going to swim.


I should like to know. If the swallow who flies so far in her many journeys to foreign lands, ever met with a better climate than this. What delicious moisture! It is as pleasant as lying in a wet ditch. I am sure any one who does not enjoy this has no love for his fatherland.


Have you ever been in the Emperor's stable? There the moisture is warm and refreshing; that's the climate for me, but I could not take it with me on my travels. Is there not even a dunghill here in this garden, where a person of rank, like myself, could take up his abode and feel at home? I never ask a question twice,


Our dear son has engaged himself, dear innocent boy; his greatest ambition is that he may one day creep into a clergyman's ear. That is a very artless and loveable wish; and being engaged will keep him steady. What happiness for a mother!


Our son, had scarcely crept out of the egg, when he was off on his travels. He is all life and spirits, I expect he will wear out his horns with running. How charming this is for a mother, is it not Mr. Beetle?


You are both quite right,


Now you shall also see my little earwigs, they are lovely little things, and highly amusing. They are never ill-behaved, except when they are uncomfortable in their inside, which unfortunately often happens at their age.


They are always busy about something, the little rogues,


That is quite out in the great world, on the other side of the ditch. I hope none of my children will ever go so far, it would be the death of me.


But I shall try to get so far,


We live here, and we are very comfortable. May we ask you to step down into this rich mud, you must be fatigued after your journey.


Certainly. I shall be most happy; I have been exposed to the rain, and have had to lie upon linen, and cleanliness is a thing that greatly exhausts me; I have also pains in one of my wings from standing in the draught under a piece of broken crockery. It is really quite refreshing to be with one's own kindred again.


Perhaps you came from a dung-heap,


No, indeed, I came from a much grander place. I came from the emperor's stable, where I was born, with golden shoes on my feet. I am travelling on a secret embassy, but you must not ask me any questions, for I cannot betray my secret.


None of them are engaged yet,


I have never seen greater beauties, even in the royal stables,


Don't spoil my girls, and don't talk to them, pray, unless you have serious intentions.


hurrah.


I have allowed myself to be taken in, and now there's nothing to be done but to take them in, in return.


Oh, this fellow that we have received into our family is nothing but a complete vagabond. He has gone away and left his wife a burden upon our hands.


Well, she can be unmarried again, and remain here with my other daughters. Fie on the villain that forsook her!


Allah sees the black beetle in the black stone, and the black rock. Is not that written in the Koran?


It is very comfortable here,


What a wonderful quantity of plants, how good they will taste when they are decayed! This is a capital store-room. There must certainly be some relations of mine living here; I will just see if I can find any one with whom I can associate. I'm proud, certainly; but I'm also proud of being so.


What beautiful weather. I shall rest here and sun myself. You must have a pleasant time of it.


You speak without knowing the facts, don't you see that I am a prisoner?


Ah, but I'm not a prisoner,


Well, now I know the world, it's an abominable world; I'm the only respectable person in it. First, they refuse me my golden shoes; then I have to lie on damp linen, and to stand in a draught; and to crown all, they fasten a wife upon me. Then, when I have made a step forward in the world, and found out a comfortable position, just as I could wish it to be, one of these human boys comes and ties me up, and leaves me to the mercy of the wild waves, while the emperor's favorite horse goes prancing about proudly on his golden shoes. This vexes me more than anything. But it is useless to look for sympathy in this world. My career has been very interesting, but what's the use of that if nobody knows anything about it? The world does not deserve to be made acquainted with my adventures, for it ought to have given me golden shoes when the emperor's horse was shod, and I stretched out my feet to be shod, too. If I had received golden shoes I should have been an ornament to the stable; now I am lost to the stable and to the world. It is all over with me.


Look, yonder is an old wooden shoe sailing along,


And there's a poor little creature bound fast in it,


There, creep away, or fly, if thou canst. It is a splendid thing to have thy liberty.


Well,


here I am, seated on the emperor's favorite horse,--sitting upon him as if I were the emperor himself. But what was it the farrier asked me? Ah, I remember now,--that's a good thought,--he asked me why the golden shoes were given to the horse. The answer is quite clear to me, now. They were given to the horse on my account.


Travelling expands the mind very much,


The world is not so bad after all, if you know how to take things as they come.


The evening bell is ringing,


the sun is setting!


I really wonder if there is a church out in the wood. The bell has indeed a strange sweet sound! Shall we go there and see what the cause of it is?


Now we are out here; the bell does not in reality exist--it is only something that people imagine!


I don't think that can be the bell. We must try to find out if it is!


We might go together. Then we shall not meet. I will and must find the bell, if I have to go to the end of the world.


Shall we beat him? Shall we thrash him? He is a king's son!


I shall never find what I am looking for! Now the sun is setting, and the night, the dark night, is approaching. Yet I may perhaps see the round sun once more before he disappears beneath the horizon. I will climb up these rocks, they are as high as the highest trees!


Ding-dong! ding-dong!


Why mournest thou, and wherefore dost thou suffer thus?


No one has sung the deeds of my life; they are dead and forgotten. Song doth not carry them forth over the lands, nor into the hearts of men; therefore I have no rest and no peace.


We know the buried town, everything living in it is piep! piep! piep!


Grub, grub! There's something to be got down there; something to swallow, and that's most important. That's the opinion of most of them down there, and the opinion is goo-goo-good!


The night of the snow-storm, the heavy dream of the winter night, all shall be dissolved, all shall rise again in the beauteous notes of the Bird of Popular Song, who never dies!


What has a woman to do with rule?


Cursed be she and all that belongs to her. Let her be expelled from the congregation and the Church. Let no man stretch forth a helping hand to her, and let friends and relations avoid her as a plague and a pestilence!


What will not bend must break. Thou child of perdition, I will yet carry out my purpose! Now will I lay the hand of the Pope upon thee, to summon thee before the tribunal that shall condemn thee!


Jens Glob, of Thyland, has come back, and his mother with him.


That will avail him little. Best leave off thy efforts, knight Jens.


Keen weather to-day!


Thou Borglum bishop. I shall subdue thee after all! Under the shield of the Pope, the law cannot reach thee; but Jens Glob shall reach thee!


I have just made an agreement with the bishop.


Sayest thou so? Then neither thou nor the bishop shall quit this church alive.


Hold, brother! First hear what the agreement was that I made. I have slain the bishop and his warriors and priests. They will have no word more to say in the matter, nor will I speak again of all the wrong that my mother has endured.


Yes, it's all very well for you to sing. Yes, you may sing very well, you have all your limbs uninjured; you should feel what it is like to lose your body, and only have a neck and a mouth left, with a cork stuck in it, as I have: you wouldn't sing then, I know. After all, it is just as well that there are some who can be happy. I have no reason to sing, nor could I sing now if I were ever so happy; but when I was a whole bottle, and they rubbed me with a cork, didn't I sing then? I used to be called a complete lark. I remember when I went out to a picnic with the furrier's family, on the day his daughter was betrothed,--it seems as if it only happened yesterday. I have gone through a great deal in my time, when I come to recollect: I have been in the fire and in the water, I have been deep in the earth, and have mounted higher in the air than most other people, and now I am swinging here, outside a bird-cage, in the air and the sunshine. Oh, indeed, it would be worth while to hear my history; but I do not speak it aloud, for a good reason--because I cannot.


Ah, how beautiful is life.


Long life to the betrothed,


Happiness and blessing to you both,


Safe return, and a wedding this day next year. Thou hast been present here on the happiest day of my life; thou shalt never be used by others!


I gave them wine, and they gave me muddy water, but I suppose it was all well meant.


We are going down: God's will be done.


If I had been down stairs in the room. I might have learnt it. And yet, men go on a journey that they may see as much as possible, and I can see nothing.


What trouble they have taken with that bottle over yonder! and very likely it is broken after all.


There's no place like home, even if it's a cellar.


Hurrah.


This is a wonderful journey up into the air, it is a new way of sailing, and here, at least, there is no fear of striking against anything.


That would make a capital bird's glass,


Ah, you have good reason to sing,


No, you must not spend a dollar for your daughter's bridal bouquet, you shall have a beautiful little bunch for a nosegay, full of blossoms. Do you see how splendidly the tree has grown? It has been raised from only a little sprig of myrtle that you gave me on the day after my betrothal, and from which I was to make my own bridal bouquet when a year had passed: but that day never came; the eyes were closed which were to have been my light and joy through life. In the depths of the sea my beloved sleeps sweetly; the myrtle has become an old tree, and I am a still older woman. Before the sprig you gave me faded, I took a spray, and planted it in the earth; and now, as you see, it has become a large tree, and a bunch of the blossoms shall at last appear at a wedding festival, in the bouquet of your daughter.


I am as valuable as any other corn, and I am much handsomer; my flowers are as beautiful as the bloom of the apple blossom, and it is a pleasure to look at us. Do you know of anything prettier than we are, you old willow-tree?


Indeed I do.


Stupid tree; he is so old that grass grows out of his body.


Bend your head as we do,


I have no occasion to do so,


Bend your head as we do, the angel of the storm is coming; his wings spread from the sky above to the earth beneath. He will strike you down before you can cry for mercy.


But I will not bend my head,


Close your flowers and bend your leaves. Do not look at the lightning when the cloud bursts; even men cannot do that. In a flash of lightning heaven opens, and we can look in; but the sight will strike even human beings blind. What then must happen to us, who only grow out of the earth, and are so inferior to them, if we venture to do so?


Inferior, indeed! Now I intend to have a peep into heaven.


See, how the sun shines, and the clouds float in the blue sky. Do you not smell the sweet perfume from flower and bush? Wherefore do you weep, old willow-tree?


Does he or she love me?--Ardently? Distractedly? Very much? A little? Not at all?


Darling Marguerite daisy, you are the wisest woman of all the flowers. Pray tell me which of the flowers I shall choose for my wife. Which will be my bride? When I know, I will fly directly to her, and propose. They are very pretty, charming little lasses; but they are rather formal.


Who is that?


That is my sister,


Oh, indeed; and you will be like her some day,


I will take her,


Friendship, if you please; nothing more. I am old, and you are old, but we may live for each other just the same; as to marrying--no; don't let us appear ridiculous at our age.


But it is not enough merely to exist. I need freedom, sunshine, and a little flower for a companion. Now I am perched on a stalk, like the flowers. It is not very pleasant, certainly; I should imagine it is something like being married; for here I am stuck fast.


That seems very poor consolation,


Ah, one can't very well trust these plants in pots; they have too much to do with mankind.


And who was my father?


And pray what was his profession and his standing in respectable society? It seems to me a very miserable title, I don't like things of this sort.


It is nothing, it will all end better than people think.


They are like wet wood, this evening; nothing fires them.


Mi manca la voce,


It is so-and-so;


may be continued;


God does not know it. He has hard-hearted ministering spirits on earth, who do according to their own will, and heed not a mother's prayers.


We have closed the coffin; it was necessary to do so.


When God is so hard to me, how can I expect men to be better?


Thou wouldst gladly go down and be with thy child,


Down to my child,


Darest thou to follow me? I am Death.


My sweet, darling mother. There is nothing so beautiful on earth as it is here. Mother, do you not see them all? Oh, it is happiness indeed. I can fly now, mother. I can fly with other happy children into the presence of the Almighty. I would fain fly away now; but if you weep for me as you are weeping now, you may never see me again. And yet I would go so gladly. May I not fly away? And you will come to me soon, will you not, dear mother?


Oh, stay, stay! only one moment more; only once more, that I may look upon thee, and kiss thee, and press thee to my heart.


Hearest thou? It is my father who calls thee. They are my sisters. Mother, surely you have not forgotten them. Mother, now the bells of heaven are ringing, mother, the sun is going to rise.


Whatever He doeth is right and best.


From whence hast thou all at once derived such strength and comforting faith?


It came from God, through my child in the grave.


I am a child of the court. And those whose names end with 'sen,' can never be anything at all. We must put our arms akimbo, and make the elbow quite pointed, so as to keep these 'sen' people at a great distance.


But my papa can buy a hundred dollars' worth of bonbons, and give them away to children. Can your papa do that?


little daughter of the editor of a paper

Yes; and my papa, my papa can put your papa and everybody's papa into the newspaper. All sorts of people are afraid of him, my mamma says, for he can do as he likes with the paper.


Oh, if I could be one of them,


One is born to that. Not all can be born cucumbers; there must be other things, too. The hens, the ducks, and all the animals in the next yard are creatures too. Now I have a great opinion of the yard cock on the plank; he is certainly of much more importance than the weather-cock who is placed so high and can't even creak, much less crow. The latter has neither hens nor chicks, and only thinks of himself and perspires verdigris. No, the yard cock is really a cock! His step is a dance! His crowing is music, and wherever he goes one knows what a trumpeter is like! If he would only come in here! Even if he ate me up stump, stalk, and all, and I had to dissolve in his body, it would be a happy death,


The world is no good! Everything in it is so stupid.


What do you think of that crowing? It was a little rough--it wanted elegance. Garden plant! A happy death! Cock-a-doodle-doo! the chickens will grow up into great hens at once, if I cry it out in the poultry-yard of the world! A cock can lay an egg! And do you know what's in that egg? A basilisk. No one can stand the sight of such a thing; people know that, and now you know it too--you know what is in me, and what a champion of all cocks I am!


Everything is very stupid. The yard cock lays no eggs, and I am too lazy to do so; if I liked, I could lay a wind-egg. But the world is not worth even a wind-egg. Everything is so stupid! I don't want to sit here any longer.


I can see and hear, the sun shines upon me, and the forest kisses me. How rich I am! How rich and beautiful they are! I am sure the pretty bird will fly down and call upon them. Thank God, that I stand so near and can at least see all the splendour.


Tweet,


How beautifully soft the grass is, and what a lovely little flower with its golden heart and silver dress is growing here.


Ugh! that is terrible; now they are done for.


Here is a fine piece of turf for the lark,


Pluck the flower off. No let it stay, it looks so pretty.


I have no water, they have all gone out, and forgotten to give me anything to drink. My throat is dry and burning. I feel as if I had fire and ice within me, and the air is so oppressive. Alas! I must die, and part with the warm sunshine, the fresh green meadows, and all the beauty that God has created. You must also fade in here, poor little flower. You and the piece of grass are all they have given me in exchange for the whole world, which I enjoyed outside. Each little blade of grass shall be a green tree for me, each of your white petals a fragrant flower. Alas! you only remind me of what I have lost.


I wish I could console the poor lark,


Tweet, tweet,


Hold me tight, don't let me fall; if you do I shall never be found again, I am so very fine.


That is your opinion, is it?


See, I am coming with a train. What coarse work! I shall never get through. I shall break!--I am breaking! Did I not say so? I know I am too fine for such work as that.


This needle is quite useless for sewing now,


So now I am a breast-pin. I knew very well I should come to honor some day: merit is sure to rise; May I be allowed to ask if you are made of gold? you have a very pretty appearance, and a curious head, although you are rather small. You must take pains to grow, for it is not every one who has sealing-wax dropped upon him;


Now I am going on a journey. I do hope I shall not be lost.


I am too fine for this world, but I know who I am, and that is always some comfort. See how they sail, they do not know what is under them. I am here, and here I shall stick. See, there goes a chip, thinking of nothing in the world but himself--only a chip. There's a straw going by now; how he turns and twists about! Don't be thinking too much of yourself, or you may chance to run against a stone. There swims a piece of newspaper; what is written upon it has been forgotten long ago, and yet it gives itself airs. I sit here patiently and quietly. I know who I am, so I shall not move. I suppose you are really a diamond?


Why yes, something of the kind,


I have been in a lady's work-box, and this lady was the cook. She had on each hand five fingers, and anything so conceited as these five fingers I have never seen; and yet they were only employed to take me out of the box and to put me back again.


Were they not high-born?


High-born! no indeed, but so haughty. They were five brothers, all born fingers; they kept very proudly together, though they were of different lengths. The one who stood first in the rank was named the thumb, he was short and thick, and had only one joint in his back, and could therefore make but one bow; but he said that if he were cut off from a man's hand, that man would be unfit for a soldier. Sweet-tooth, his neighbor, dipped himself into sweet or sour, pointed to the sun and moon, and formed the letters when the fingers wrote. Longman, the middle finger, looked over the heads of all the others. Gold-band, the next finger, wore a golden circle round his waist. And little Playman did nothing at all, and seemed proud of it. They were boasters, and boasters they will remain; and therefore I left them.


And now we sit here and glitter,


So he is promoted, while I remain here; I am too fine, but that is my pride, and what do I care? I could almost fancy that I came from a sunbeam, I am so fine. It seems as if the sunbeams were always looking for me under the water. Ah! I am so fine that even my mother cannot find me. Had I still my old eye, which was broken off, I believe I should weep; but no, I would not do that, it is not genteel to cry.


Hallo! here's a fellow for you.


I am not a fellow, I am a young lady,


Here comes an egg-shell sailing along,


White walls, and I am black myself, that looks well; now I can be seen, but I hope I shall not be sea-sick, or I shall break again. It is a good thing against sea-sickness to have a steel stomach, and not to forget one's own importance. Now my sea-sickness has past: delicate people can bear a great deal. Good heavens, how it crushes! I shall be sick now. I am breaking!


Mrs. Meta Mogen, do you still remember how my father, when your husband was still alive, had to ride on the wooden horse? You prayed for him, but it was no good, he was to ride until his limbs were paralysed; but you stole down to him, as I steal now to you, you yourself put little stones under each of his feet that he might have support, nobody saw it, or they pretended not to see it, for you were then the young gracious mistress. My father has told me this, and I have not forgotten it! Now I will free you, Mrs. Meta Mogen!


Thus the small service done to the old man was richly rewarded!


Delaying is not forgetting,


The word was so easy, the deed so small, the joy it afforded me was infinitely great and sweet!


We both have nothing! The rich widow over the way in the basement has made advances to me; she will make me rich, but you are in my heart; what do you advise me to do?


I advise you to do what you think will turn out to your happiness. Be kind and good to her, but remember this; from the hour we part we shall never see each other again. How are you?


Rich and prospering in every respect, the woman is brave and good, but you are in my heart. I have fought the battle, it will soon be ended; we shall not see each other again now until we meet before God!


That is horrible! Can one not persuade them to live in peace and quietness, so that each one may mind his own business?


I must give them color, that they may be seen more plainly,


What have you there?


Yes, if you can guess what it is. I'll make you a present of it.


Look! look! his leg is longer than mine! Bah! Away with it! There is one who has a little bruise. It hurts him, but it shall hurt him still more.


That's funny!


Yes; but what do you think it is? Can you find that out?


Why, one can see that easily enough. That's Paris, or some other great city, for they're all alike. It's a great city!


It's a drop of puddle water!


Self is the man. One ought to see these things one's self.


Don't go to Paris! Poor child! if you go there, it will be your ruin.


So you went there after all, and it was your ruin, poor Mary!


That one poor? No; she wears a dress fit for a countess Oh, if I were only there, amid all the splendor and pomp! They shine up into the very clouds at night; when I look up, I can tell in what direction the town lies.


These also are the servants of the Lord God,


Everything passes away, passes away like a cloud, and never comes back!


A splendid blossom of art and industry, has unfolded itself in the Champ de Mars, a gigantic sunflower, from whose petals one can learn geography and statistics, and can become as wise as a lord mayor, and raise one's self to the level of art and poetry, and study the greatness and power of the various lands.


A fairy tale flower, a many-colored lotus-plant, which spreads out its green leaves like a velvet carpet over the sand. The opening spring has brought it forth, the summer will see it in all its splendor, the autumn winds will sweep it away, so that not a leaf, not a fragment of its root shall remain.


The Aladdin's Palace of the present has been built,


Day by day, hour by hour, it unfolds more of its wonderful splendor.


Master Bloodless


All this,


the Champ de Mars offers;


Fly away, ye birds! fly away to see, and then come back and tell me,


Thou shalt go to the city of magic; thou shalt take root there, and enjoy the mighty rushing breezes, the air and the sunshine there. But the time of thy life shall then be shortened; the line of years that awaited thee here amid the free nature shall shrink to but a small tale. Poor Dryad! It shall be thy destruction. Thy yearning and longing will increase, thy desire will grow more stormy, the tree itself will be as a prison to thee, thou wilt quit thy cell and give up thy nature to fly out and mingle among men. Then the years that would have belonged to thee will be contracted to half the span of the ephemeral fly, that lives but a day: one night, and thy life-taper shall be blown out--the leaves of the tree will wither and be blown away, to become green never again!


I shall go there! Life is beginning and swells like a cloud; nobody knows whither it is hastening.


Away! away! Away! away farewell forward. Away! away!


Take me with you! take me with you!


Where does Paris begin, and when shall I be there?


Welcome! welcome!


Poor Dryad!


I am happy! I am happy! and yet I cannot realize, cannot describe what I feel. Everything is as I fancied it, and yet as I did not fancy it.


How glorious, how splendid it is! Now I am in Paris! Now I know every tree, every flower on the square here! I know every house, every balcony, every shop in this narrow cut-off corner, where I am denied the sight of this great mighty city. Where are the arches of triumph, the Boulevards, the wondrous building of the world? I see nothing of all this. As if shut up in a cage, I stand among the high houses, which I now know by heart, with their inscriptions, signs, and placards; all the painted confectionery, that is no longer to my taste. Where are all the things of which I heard, for which I longed, and for whose sake I wanted to come hither? what have I seized, found, won? I feel the same longing I felt before; I feel that there is a life I should wish to grasp and to experience. I must go out into the ranks of living men, and mingle among them. I must fly about like a bird. I must see and feel, and become human altogether. I must enjoy the one half-day, instead of vegetating for years in every-day sameness and weariness, in which I become ill, and at last sink and disappear like the dew on the meadows. I will gleam like the cloud, gleam in the sunshine of life, look out over the whole like the cloud, and pass away like it, no one knoweth whither. Take from me the years that were destined for me, and give me but half of the life of the ephemeral fly! Deliver me from my prison! Give me human life, human happiness, only a short span, only the one night, if it cannot be otherwise; and then punish me for my wish to live, my longing for life! Strike me out of thy list. Let my shell, the fresh young tree, wither, or be hewn down, and burnt to ashes, and scattered to all the winds!


The great city will be thy destruction.


Sancta Maria!


All its streaming waters are not able to wash out the innocent blood that was spilt here.


I am afraid. I cannot venture to go down, nor do I care for the wonders down yonder. You had better stay here with me.


Indeed, and travel home, and quit Paris without having seen the most wonderful thing of all--the real wonder of the present period, created by the power and resolution of one man!


I will not go down for all that,


The wonder of the present time,


From here go forth health and life for thousands upon thousands up yonder! Our time is the time of progress, with its manifold blessings.


I am disgusted with this man-mewing, with these outbursts of ignorance. A fine magnificence, truly! all made up of gas and petroleum! I can't eat such stuff as that. Everything here is so fine and bright now, that one's ashamed of one's self, without exactly knowing why. Ah, if we only lived in the days of tallow candles! and it does not lie so very far behind us. That was a romantic time, as one may say.


What are you talking of there? I have never seen you before. What is it you are talking about?


Of the glorious days that are gone, of the happy time of our great-grandfathers and great-grandmothers. Then it was a great thing to get down here. That was a rat's nest quite different from Paris. Mother Plague used to live here then; she killed people, but never rats. Robbers and smugglers could breathe freely here. Here was the meeting-place of the most interesting personages, whom one now only gets to see in the theatres where they act melodrama, up above. The time of romance is gone even in our rat's nest; and here also fresh air and petroleum have broken in.


Those are scaly animals They put on different scales two or three times a day, and they emit sounds which they call speaking. We don't put on scales, and we make ourselves understood in an easier way, simply by twitching the corners of our mouths and staring with our eyes. We have a great many advantages over mankind.


But they have learned swimming of us. You must know I come from the great sea outside. In the hot time of the year the people yonder go into the water; first they take off their scales, and then they swim. They have learnt from the frogs to kick out with their hind legs, and row with their fore paws. But they cannot hold out long. They want to be like us, but they cannot come up to us. Poor people!


I can see a well set-up human figure quite well. She was called 'contumacious lady,' or something of that kind. She had a mouth and staring eyes, like ours, and a great balloon at the back of her head, and something like a shut-up umbrella in front; there were a lot of dangling bits of seaweed hanging about her. She ought to take all the rubbish off, and go as we do; then she would look something like a respectable barbel, so far as it is possible for a person to look like one!


What's become of that one whom they drew away with the hook? He sat on a wheel-chair, and had paper, and pen, and ink, and wrote down everything. They called him a 'writer.'


They're going about with him still. A writer? That means, as we fishes describe it, a kind of cuttle or ink-fish among men.


So, at any rate, I have seen you, you pretty gold-fishes. Yes, I know you; I have known about you a long time in my home; the swallow told me about you. How beautiful you are! how delicate and shining! I should like to kiss every one of you. You others, also. I know you all; but you do not know me.


Thou wilt ever spring living from the earth. Moisten my tongue--bring me a refreshing draught.


I am no living water. I only spring upward when the machine wills it.


Give me something of thy freshness, thou green grass, give me one of thy fragrant flowers.


We must die if we are torn from our stalks,


Give me a kiss, thou fresh stream of air--only a single life-kiss.


Soon the sun will kiss the clouds red, then thou wilt be among the dead--blown away, as all the splendor here will be blown away before the year shall have ended. Then I can play again with the light loose sand on the place here, and whirl the dust over the land and through the air. All is dust!


Thy wishing and thy longing have torn thee, with thy roots, from the place which God appointed for thee. That was thy destruction, thou poor Dryad!


Pass away, ye dead! now the sun is going to rise!


I shall win the Princess!


Hallo! where are you going? I declare you have put on your Sunday clothes!


We're going to the King's court, as suitors to the King's daughter. Don't you know the announcement that has been made all through the country?


My word! I'll be in it too!


Father, dear. I must have a horse too. I do feel so desperately inclined to marry! If she accepts me, she accepts me; and if she won't have me, I'll have her; but she shall be mine!


Don't talk nonsense. You shall have no horse from me. You don't know how to speak--you can't arrange your words. Your brothers are very different fellows from you.


Well. If I can't have a horse, I'll take the Billy-goat, who belongs to me, and he can carry me very well! Hei, houp! that was a ride! Here I come! Hallo! Here am I! Look what I have found on the high road.


Dullard! what are you going to do with that?


With the crow? why, I am going to give it to the Princess.


Yes, do so,


Hallo, here I am again! just see what I have found now: you don't find that on the high road every day!


Dullard! that is only an old wooden shoe, and the upper part is missing into the bargain; are you going to give that also to the Princess?


Most certainly I shall. Hallo--hop rara! It is getting better and better. Hurrah! it is quite famous.


Why, what have you found this time?


Oh. I can hardly tell you. How glad the Princess will be!


Bah! that is nothing but clay out of the ditch.


Yes, certainly it is, and clay of the finest sort. See, it is so wet, it runs through one's fingers.


He is of no use! Away with him out of the hall!


It is dreadfully hot here!


Yes, my father is going to roast young pullets today.


Baa! Baa!


He is of no use! Away with him!


It is terribly warm here!


Yes, we're roasting pullets to-day,


What--what were you--were you pleased to ob-


Well, it's most abominably hot here.


Yes, because I'm roasting young pullets,


Ah, that's lucky! for I suppose you'll let me roast my crow at the same time?


With the greatest pleasure. But have you anything you can roast it in? for I have neither pot nor pan.


Certainly I have! Here's a cooking utensil with a tin handle.


Well, that is a famous dish! But what shall we do for sauce?


Oh, I have that in my pocket. I have so much of it that I can afford to throw some away;


I like that! You can give an answer, and you have something to say for yourself, and so you shall be my husband. But are you aware that every word we speak is being taken down, and will be published in the paper to-morrow? Look yonder, and you will see in every window three clerks and a head clerk; and the old head clerk is the worst of all, for he can't understand anything.


Oh, those are the gentlemen, are they? then I will give the best I have to the head clerk.


That was very cleverly done. I could not have done that; but I shall learn in time.


Who is the dead man?


The old student. They say that he was once an energetic young man, that he studied the dead languages, and sang and even composed many songs; then something had happened to him, and in consequence of this he gave himself up to drink, body and mind. When at last he had ruined his health, they brought him into the country, where someone paid for his board and residence. He was gentle as a child as long as the sullen mood did not come over him; but when it came he was fierce, became as strong as a giant, and ran about in the wood like a chased deer. But when we succeeded in bringing him home, and prevailed upon him to open the book with the dried-up plants in it, he would sometimes sit for a whole day looking at this or that plant, while frequently the tears rolled over his cheeks. God knows what was in his mind; but he requested us to put the book into his coffin, and now he lies there. In a little while the lid will be placed upon the coffin, and he will have sweet rest in the grave!


Oh,


But we must part, your brother does not like our engagement, and therefore he sends me so far away on business, over mountains and seas. Farewell, my sweet bride; for so you are to me.


Farewell, farewell;


Now he is gone, and will soon be forgotten, he will never come back again. He was going on a long journey over mountains and seas; it is easy for a man to lose his life in such a journey. My sister will suppose he is dead; for he cannot come back, and she will not dare to question me about him.


That you may not think this is only a dream that I have told you, you will find on your bed a withered leaf.


I will keep this,


Farewell, farewell,


Alas! how soon all that is good and beautiful passes away,


We know it,


What a buzzing and a rumbling there is in the elfin hill. I have not been able to close my eyes for two nights on account of the noise; I might just as well have had the toothache, for that always keeps me awake. There is something going on within there, they propped up the top of the hill with four red posts, till cock-crow this morning, so that it is thoroughly aired, and the elfin girls have learnt new dances; there is something. I spoke about it to an earth-worm of my acquaintance, the earth-worm had just come from the elfin hill, where he has been groping about in the earth day and night. He has heard a great deal; although he cannot see, poor miserable creature, yet he understands very well how to wriggle and lurk about. They expect friends in the elfin hill, grand company, too; but who they are the earth-worm would not say, or, perhaps, he really did not know. All the will-o'-the-wisps are ordered to be there to hold a torch dance, as it is called. The silver and gold which is plentiful in the hill will be polished and placed out in the moonlight. Who can the strangers be? what can the matter be? Hark, what a buzzing and humming there is!


You are invited to the elf hill for this evening, but will you do me a great favor and undertake the invitations? you ought to do something, for you have no housekeeping to attend to as I have. We are going to have some very grand people, conjurors, who have always something to say; and therefore the old elf king wishes to make a great display.


Who is to be invited?


All the world may come to the great ball, even human beings, if they can only talk in their sleep, or do something after our fashion. But for the feast the company must be carefully selected; we can only admit persons of high rank; I have had a dispute myself with the elf king, as he thought we could not admit ghosts. The merman and his daughter must be invited first, although it may not be agreeable to them to remain so long on dry land, but they shall have a wet stone to sit on, or perhaps something better; so I think they will not refuse this time. We must have all the old demons of the first class, with tails, and the hobgoblins and imps; and then I think we ought not to leave out the death-horse, or the grave-pig, or even the church dwarf, although they do belong to the clergy, and are not reckoned among our people; but that is merely their office, they are nearly related to us, and visit us very frequently.


Croak,


Father, dear,


may I now hear who our high-born visitors are?


Well, I suppose I must tell you now, two of my daughters must prepare themselves to be married, for the marriages certainly will take place. The old goblin from Norway, who lives in the ancient Dovre mountains, and who possesses many castles built of rock and freestone, besides a gold mine, which is better than all, so it is thought, is coming with his two sons, who are both seeking a wife. The old goblin is a true-hearted, honest, old Norwegian graybeard; cheerful and straightforward. I knew him formerly, when we used to drink together to our good fellowship: he came here once to fetch his wife, she is dead now. She was the daughter of the king of the chalk-hills at Moen. They say he took his wife from chalk; I shall be delighted to see him again. It is said that the boys are ill-bred, forward lads, but perhaps that is not quite correct, and they will become better as they grow older. Let me see that you know how to teach them good manners.


And when are they coming?


That depends upon wind and weather, they travel economically. They will come when there is the chance of a ship. I wanted them to come over to Sweden, but the old man was not inclined to take my advice. He does not go forward with the times, and that I do not like.


They are coming! they are coming! Give me my crown,


and let me stand in the moonshine.


Is that a hill? we should call it a hole in Norway.


Boys, a hole goes in, and a hill stands out; have you no eyes in your heads? Take care, or people will think you have not been well brought up.


Feet off the table-cloth!


Stop! is that the only house-keeping they can perform? Can they do anything more than dance and throw about their legs, and make a whirlwind?


You shall soon see what they can do,


She will make a good housewife. That is a dangerous woman. And what can the next daughter do?


I have learnt everything that is Norwegian, and I will never marry, unless I can go to Norway.


That is only because she has heard, in a Norwegian song, that when the world shall decay, the cliffs of Norway will remain standing like monuments; and she wants to get there, that she may be safe; for she is so afraid of sinking.


Ho! ho! is that what she means? Well, what can the seventh and last do?


The sixth comes before the seventh,


I can only tell people the truth. No one cares for me, nor troubles himself about me; and I have enough to do to sew my grave clothes.


Here are my five fingers, now tell me a story for each of them. Hold fast what you have: this hand is yours; for I will have you for a wife myself.


The stories about the ring-finger and little Peter Playman had not yet been told.


We will hear them in the winter, and also about the fir and the birch-trees, and the ghost stories, and of the tingling frost. You shall tell your tales, for no one over there can do it so well; and we will sit in the stone rooms, where the pine logs are burning, and drink mead out of the golden drinking-horn of the old Norwegian kings. The water-god has given me two; and when we sit there, Nix comes to pay us a visit, and will sing you all the songs of the mountain shepherdesses. How merry we shall be! The salmon will be leaping in the waterfalls, and dashing against the stone walls, but he will not be able to come in. It is indeed very pleasant to live in old Norway. But where are the lads? What tricks have you been playing? I have taken a mother for you, and now you may take one of your aunts.


The cock is crowing, now we must close the shutters, that the sun may not scorch us.


Oh, how much I was pleased with the old goblin!


The boys pleased me better,


That must be wonderful cloth. If I were to be dressed in a suit made of this cloth I should be able to find out which men in my empire were unfit for their places, and I could distinguish the clever from the stupid. I must have this cloth woven for me without delay. I should very much like to know how they are getting on with the cloth. I shall send my honest old minister to the weavers. He can judge best how the stuff looks, for he is intelligent, and nobody understands his office better than he.


Heaven preserve us! I cannot see anything at all. Oh dear, can I be so stupid? I should never have thought so, and nobody must know it! Is it possible that I am not fit for my office? No, no, I cannot say that I was unable to see the cloth.


Now, have you got nothing to say?


Oh, it is very pretty, exceedingly beautiful. What a beautiful pattern, what brilliant colours! I shall tell the emperor that I like the cloth very much.


We are pleased to hear that,


Is it not a beautiful piece of cloth?


I am not stupid. It is therefore my good appointment for which I am not fit. It is very strange, but I must not let any one know it; It is very excellent,


Is it not magnificent? Your Majesty must admire the colours and the pattern.


What is this? I do not see anything at all. That is terrible! Am I stupid? Am I unfit to be emperor? That would indeed be the most dreadful thing that could happen to me. Really, your cloth has our most gracious approval;


It is very beautiful. It is magnificent, beautiful, excellent,


The emperor's new suit is ready now. These are the trousers! This is the coat! Here is the cloak! They are all as light as a cobweb, and one must feel as if one had nothing at all upon the body; but that is just the beauty of them.


Indeed!


Does it please your Majesty now to graciously undress, that we may assist your Majesty in putting on the new suit before the large looking-glass?


How well they look! How well they fit! What a beautiful pattern! What fine colours! That is a magnificent suit of clothes!


I am ready. Does not my suit fit me marvellously?


Indeed, the emperor's new suit is incomparable! What a long train he has! How well it fits him!


But he has nothing on at all,


Good heavens! listen to the voice of an innocent child,


Now I must bear up to the end.


Is it not a pretty little tree?


Oh! how I wish I were as tall as the other trees, then I would spread out my branches on every side, and my top would over-look the wide world. I should have the birds building their nests on my boughs, and when the wind blew, I should bow with stately dignity like my tall companions.


Oh, if I could but keep on growing tall and old! There is nothing else worth caring for in the world! Where were they going? What would become of them? Do you know where those trees were taken? Did you meet them?


Yes, I think I do. I met several new ships when I flew from Egypt, and they had fine masts that smelt like fir. I think these must have been the trees; I assure you they were stately, very stately.


Oh, how I wish I were tall enough to go on the sea. What is the sea, and what does it look like?


It would take too much time to explain,


Rejoice in thy youth, rejoice in thy fresh growth, and the young life that is in thee.


Where are they going? They are not taller than I am: indeed, one is much less; and why are the branches not cut off? Where are they going?


We know, we know, we have looked in at the windows of the houses in the town, and we know what is done with them. They are dressed up in the most splendid manner. We have seen them standing in the middle of a warm room, and adorned with all sorts of beautiful things,--honey cakes, gilded apples, playthings, and many hundreds of wax tapers.


And then, and then what happens?


We did not see any more, but this was enough for us.


I wonder whether anything so brilliant will ever happen to me. It would be much better than crossing the sea. I long for it almost with pain. Oh! when will Christmas be here? I am now as tall and well grown as those which were taken away last year. Oh! that I were now laid on the wagon, or standing in the warm room, with all that brightness and splendor around me! Something better and more beautiful is to come after, or the trees would not be so decked out. Yes, what follows will be grander and more splendid. What can it be? I am weary with longing. I scarcely know how I feel.


Rejoice with us. Enjoy thine own bright life in the fresh air.


What a beautiful tree!


We only want one, and this is the prettiest.


What was going to happen to him now?


This evening, how bright it will be!


and the tapers lighted! then I shall know what else is going to happen. Will the trees of the forest come to see me? I wonder if the sparrows will peep in at the windows as they fly? shall I grow faster here, and keep on all these ornaments summer and winter?


Help! help!


A story, a story,


Now we shall be in the green shade, and the tree will have the pleasure of hearing also, but I shall only relate one story; what shall it be? Ivede-Avede, or Humpty Dumpty, who fell down stairs, but soon got up again, and at last married a princess.


Ivede-Avede,


Humpty Dumpty,


Shall I have anything to do with all this?


Tell another, tell another,


Ah! yes, so it happens in the world. Ah! well, who knows? perhaps I may fall down too, and marry a princess; To-morrow I will not tremble. I will enjoy all my splendor, and I shall hear the story of Humpty Dumpty again, and perhaps Ivede-Avede. Now, all my splendor is going to begin again. What does this mean? what am I to do here? I can hear nothing in a place like this. It is winter now, the ground is hard and covered with snow, so that people cannot plant me. I shall be sheltered here, I dare say, until spring comes. How thoughtful and kind everybody is to me! Still I wish this place were not so dark, as well as lonely, with not even a little hare to look at. How pleasant it was out in the forest while the snow lay on the ground, when the hare would run by, yes, and jump over me too, although I did not like it then. Oh! it is terrible lonely here.


Squeak, squeak. Oh, it is very cold, or else we should be so comfortable here, shouldn't we, you old fir-tree?


I am not old, there are many who are older than I am.


Where do you come from? and what do you know? Have you seen the most beautiful places in the world, and can you tell us all about them? and have you been in the storeroom, where cheeses lie on the shelf, and hams hang from the ceiling? One can run about on tallow candles there, and go in thin and come out fat.


I know nothing of that place, but I know the wood where the sun shines and the birds sing.


What a number of things you have seen? you must have been very happy.


Happy! Ah, yes! after all those were happy days.


How happy you must have been, you old fir-tree.


I am not old at all. I only came from the forest this winter, I am now checked in my growth.


What splendid stories you can relate,


Those were happy days, but they may come again. Humpty Dumpty fell down stairs, and yet he married the princess; perhaps I may marry a princess too.


Who is Humpty Dumpty?


Do you know only one story?


Only one. I heard it on the happiest evening of my life; but I did not know I was so happy at the time.


We think it is a very miserable story. Don't you know any story about bacon, or tallow in the storeroom.


No,


Many thanks to you then,


It was very pleasant when the merry little mice sat round me and listened while I talked. Now that is all passed too. However, I shall consider myself happy when some one comes to take me out of this place. Now life is beginning again,


Twit, twit, twit, my mate is coming,


Now I shall live,


Look what is sticking to the ugly old fir-tree,


Past! past! Oh, had I but enjoyed myself while I could have done so! but now it is too late.


Pop, pop.


People say that I look exceedingly well, and that I am so fine and long that I shall make a beautiful piece of linen. How fortunate I am; it makes me so happy, it is such a pleasant thing to know that something can be made of me. How the sunshine cheers me, and how sweet and refreshing is the rain; my happiness overpowers me, no one in the world can feel happier than I am.


Ah, yes, no doubt, but you do not know the world yet as well as I do, for my sticks are knotty; Snip, snap, snurre, Basse lurre: The song is ended.


No, it is not ended. To-morrow the sun will shine, or the rain descend. I feel that I am growing. I feel that I am in full blossom. I am the happiest of all creatures. We cannot expect to be happy always, by experiencing evil as well as good, we become wise. Whirr, whirr. Well, I have been very happy, and must be contented with the past; Well, this is quite wonderful; I could not have believed that I should be so favored by fortune. The fern was not wrong with its song of 'Snip, snap, snurre, Basse lurre.' But the song is not ended yet, I am sure; it is only just beginning. How wonderful it is, that after all I have suffered, I am made something of at last; I am the luckiest person in the world--so strong and fine; and how white, and what a length! This is something different to being a mere plant and bearing flowers. Then I had no attention, nor any water unless it rained; now, I am watched and taken care of. Every morning the maid turns me over, and I have a shower-bath from the watering-pot every evening. Yes, and the clergyman's wife noticed me, and said I was the best piece of linen in the whole parish. I cannot be happier than I am now. See, now, then. I have become something of importance. This was my destiny; it is quite a blessing. Now I shall be of some use in the world, as everyone ought to be; it is the only way to be happy. I am now divided into twelve pieces, and yet we are all one and the same in the whole dozen. It is most extraordinary good fortune.


It must end very soon, we would gladly have held together a little longer, but it is useless to expect impossibilities.


Well, now, this is a surprise; a glorious surprise too. I am now finer than ever, and I shall be written upon, and who can tell what fine things I may have written upon me. This is wonderful luck! I never imagined anything like this,


when I was only a little blue flower, growing in the fields. How could I fancy that I should ever be the means of bringing knowledge and joy to man? I cannot understand it myself, and yet it is really so. Heaven knows that I have done nothing myself, but what I was obliged to do with my weak powers for my own preservation; and yet I have been promoted from one joy and honor to another. Each time I think that the song is ended; and then something higher and better begins for me. I suppose now I shall be sent on my travels about the world, so that people may read me. It cannot be otherwise; indeed, it is more than probable; for I have more splendid thoughts written upon me, than I had pretty flowers in olden times. I am happier than ever. This is certainly the wisest plan. I really did not think of that. I shall remain at home, and be held in honor, like some old grandfather, as I really am to all these new books. They will do some good. I could not have wandered about as they do. Yet he who wrote all this has looked at me, as every word flowed from his pen upon my surface. I am the most honored of all. After work, it is well to rest, and a very good opportunity to collect one's thoughts. Now I am able, for the first time, to think of my real condition; and to know one's self is true progress. What will be done with me now, I wonder? No doubt I shall still go forward. I have always progressed hitherto, as I know quite well.


Ugh,


Now I am mounting straight up to the sun,


The children are all out of school, and the schoolmaster was the last of all. Snip, snap, snurre, Basse lure: The song is ended.


The song is never ended; the most beautiful is yet to come.


Pack up! Yes, it is all very well to say 'pack up,'


I say, you Turkish nurse, what castle is that near the town, with the windows placed so high?


The king's daughter lives there, it has been prophesied that she will be very unhappy about a lover, and therefore no one is allowed to visit her, unless the king and queen are present.


Thank you,


Will you tell us a story?


one that is instructive and full of deep learning.


Yes, but with something in it to laugh at,


Certainly. There was once a bundle of matches that were exceedingly proud of their high descent. Their genealogical tree, that is, a large pine-tree from which they had been cut, was at one time a large, old tree in the wood. The matches now lay between a tinder-box and an old iron saucepan, and were talking about their youthful days. 'Ah! then we grew on the green boughs, and were as green as they; every morning and evening we were fed with diamond drops of dew. Whenever the sun shone, we felt his warm rays, and the little birds would relate stories to us as they sung. We knew that we were rich, for the other trees only wore their green dress in summer, but our family were able to array themselves in green, summer and winter. But the wood-cutter came, like a great revolution, and our family fell under the axe. The head of the house obtained a situation as mainmast in a very fine ship, and can sail round the world when he will. The other branches of the family were taken to different places, and our office now is to kindle a light for common people. This is how such high-born people as we came to be in a kitchen.' 'Mine has been a very different fate,' said the iron pot, which stood by the matches; 'from my first entrance into the world I have been used to cooking and scouring. I am the first in this house, when anything solid or useful is required. My only pleasure is to be made clean and shining after dinner, and to sit in my place and have a little sensible conversation with my neighbors. All of us, excepting the water-bucket, which is sometimes taken into the courtyard, live here together within these four walls. We get our news from the market-basket, but he sometimes tells us very unpleasant things about the people and the government. Yes, and one day an old pot was so alarmed, that he fell down and was broken to pieces. He was a liberal, I can tell you.' 'You are talking too much,' said the tinder-box, and the steel struck against the flint till some sparks flew out, crying, 'We want a merry evening, don't we?' 'Yes, of course,' said the matches, 'let us talk about those who are the highest born.' 'No, I don't like to be always talking of what we are,' remarked the saucepan; 'let us think of some other amusement; I will begin. We will tell something that has happened to ourselves; that will be very easy, and interesting as well. On the Baltic Sea, near the Danish shore'-- 'What a pretty commencement!' 'Yes; well in my youth, I lived in a quiet family, where the furniture was polished, the floors scoured, and clean curtains put up every fortnight.' 'What an interesting way you have of relating a story,' 'That is quite true,' 'Now, let us have a dance,' 'Shall I be crowned now?' 'They were only common people after all,' 'If the tea-urn won't sing,' 'she can leave it alone; there is a nightingale in a cage who can sing; she has not been taught much, certainly, but we need not say anything this evening about that.' 'I think it highly improper,' 'that a rich foreign bird should be listened to here. Is it patriotic? Let the market-basket decide what is right.' 'I certainly am vexed,' 'inwardly vexed, more than any one can imagine. Are we spending the evening properly? Would it not be more sensible to put the house in order? If each were in his own place I would lead a game; this would be quite another thing.' 'Let us act a play,' 'Yes, if we had chosen,' 'we might have spent a very pleasant evening.' 'Now then,' 'every one will see that we are the first. How we shine; what a light we give!'


What a capital story. I feel as if I were really in the kitchen, and could see the matches; yes, you shall marry our daughter.


Certainly, thou shalt have our daughter.


I will give them another treat,


I saw the Turkish angel myself,


he had eyes like glittering stars, and a head like foaming water.


He flew in a mantle of fire,


What ailest thee, that thou weepest blue and red tears?


The Turk has come to our city; he has wild dogs for the chase, a goodly pack.


I will drive them away across the islands! I will drive them away across the islands into the deep sea.


We will kill these Turks!


I will drive them across the islands to the deep sea; but before evening came the roebuck was slain, and before the night the hunted stag was dead.


Christ is risen,


Christ is risen.


How much you know! and what wonders you can relate?


I think what you once told me, the finest of all, you told me of a thing that has never been out of my thoughts--of the good old custom of 'the bond of friendship,'--a custom I should like to follow. Brother, let you and I go to church, as your father and Anastasia's father once did. Your sister Anastasia is the most beautiful and most innocent of maidens, and she shall consecrate the deed. No people have such grand old customs as we Greeks.


Will you be friends in life and in death?


Yes,


Will you each remember to say, whatever may happen, 'My brother is a part of myself; his secret is my secret, my happiness is his; self-sacrifice, patience, everything belongs to me as they do to him?'


Yes.


Aphtanides, there is one thing still that you must know,--one thing that till now has been a secret between myself and Heaven. My whole soul is filled with love,--with a love stronger than the love I bear to my mother and to thee.


And whom do you love?


I love Anastasia. I have never spoken of this to her, and perhaps she does not love me. Brother, think of this; I have seen her daily, she has grown up beside me, and has become a part of my soul.


And she shall be thine, thine! I may not wrong thee, nor will I do so. I also love her, but tomorrow I depart. In a year we will see each other again, but then you will be married; shall it not be so? I have a little gold of my own, it shall be yours. You must and shall take it.


To-morrow you are going to leave us. I am very sorry.


Sorry! Our brother yonder loves you, and is he not dear to you? His very silence now proves his affection. Farewell,


The cockchafer is reading; see how he turns over the leaf.


Your headstrong will requires severity to conquer it. As a little child you used to trample on my apron, but one day I fear you will trample on my heart.


You ought to go, for once, and see your parents, Inge.


you ought to go home again, and visit your parents, Inge, and I will give you a large wheaten loaf to take to them, they will be glad to see you, I am sure.


If this lasts much longer. I shall not be able to bear it.


Ah, Inge! what grief thou hast caused thy mother


Oh that I had never been born! My mother's tears are useless now.


Inge was a sinful girl, who did not value the gifts of God, but trampled them under her feet.


Ah, they should have punished me, and driven all my naughty tempers out of me.


But will she never come up again?


No, she will never come up again.


But if she were to say she was sorry, and ask pardon, and promise never to do so again?


Yes, then she might come; but she will not beg pardon,


Oh, I wish she would! I should be so glad. I would give up my doll and all my playthings, if she could only come here again. Poor Inge! it is so dreadful for her.


Poor Inge!


Inge! Inge! what a grief thou hast been to me! I said it would be so.


Ah, poor Inge! shall I ever see thee again? Perhaps I may, for we know not what may happen in the future.


See, yonder is a sea-gull!


Yonder lies some more of the same sort. I gave an old woman a few coffee berries for it; you shall have the rest for sixpence, if you will.


Indeed I will, give me the book instead of the cheese; I can eat my bread and butter without cheese. It would be a sin to tear up a book like this. You are a clever man; and a practical man; but you understand no more about poetry than that cask yonder.


Is it really true, that you do not know what poetry is?


Of course I know, poetry is something that always stand in the corner of a newspaper, and is sometimes cut out; and I may venture to affirm that I have more of it in me than the student has, and I am only a poor tub of the huckster's.


Now I shall go and tell the student,


This is a wonderful place. I never expected such a thing. I should like to stay here with the student; but the student has no jam!


How wonderfully glorious it would be to sit with the student under such a tree;


I must divide myself between the two; I cannot quite give up the huckster, because of the jam.


My golden treasure, my riches, my sunshine!


Red hair! the little fellow has red hair! Believe the drum, and not what your mother says! Rub-a dub, rub-a dub!


Celebrity is always something!


Peter's name will last a full year and a half longer!


Fool! Dub, dub, dub, rub-a-dub!


He must become a chorister boy. He shall sing in the church, and stand among the beautiful gilded angels who are like him!


Fiery cat!


Don't go home, Peter. If you sleep in the garret, there'll be a fire in the house, and the fire-drum will have to be beaten.


Look out for the drumsticks,


I'll be a soldier,


Ah, you learn to long for the drum-skin, drum, dum, dum!


Yes, if he could only march his way up to be a general! but before he can do that, there must be war.


Heaven forbid!


We have nothing to lose,


Yes, we have my boy,


But suppose he came back a general!


Without arms and legs! No, I would rather keep my golden treasure with me.


Red-head. Golden treasure!


Red-head,


Foxey,


March! Forward! March!


Retire


Forward! march!


Now, I'm tired of these complaints,


My golden treasure! Now the good God has taken him to Himself! Where does he rest now? among the many in the big grave that they have dug for the dead? Perhaps he's in the water in the marsh! Nobody knows his grave; no holy words have been read over it!


Drum-ma-rum! drum-ma-rum! there he is!


There stands the old skeleton still!


One would think that a great fire had broken out here. Bright day! fire in the heart! golden treasure! skrat! skr-r-at! skr-r-r-r-at!


Peter's far outgrowing the drum. Peter will be greater than I.


He ought to have his hair dyed. That answered capitally with the policeman's daughter, and she got a husband.


But her hair turned as green as duckweed, and was always having to be colored up.


She knows how to manage for herself, and so can Peter. He comes to the most genteel houses, even to the burgomaster's where he gives Miss Charlotte piano-forte lessons.


To be famous!


Tum-me-lum, tum-me-lum, tum-me-lum! Peter has gone clear out of his wits. I think there must be a fire in the house.


Shall I tell you news, Peter? A capital piece of news. Burgomaster's Charlotte has engaged herself to the state councillor's son; the betrothal took place yesterday evening.


No!


Yes. Good Heaven! what's the matter with you?


Nothing, nothing; only leave me to myself,


My sweet child, my golden treasure!


Charlotte's gone! Charlotte's gone! and now the song is done.


She behaves like a mad woman. All the world is to see the letters she gets from her golden treasure, and to read the words that are written in the papers about his violin playing. And he sends her money too, and that's very useful to her since she has been a widow.


He plays before emperors and kings. I never had that fortune, but he's my pupil, and he does not forget his old master.


His father dreamt that Peter came home from the war with a silver cross. He did not gain one in the war, but it is still more difficult to gain one in this way. Now he has the cross of honor. If his father had only lived to see it!


He's grown famous!


He played at our house before he played in the presence of kings. At that time he was quite smitten with Charlotte. He was always of an aspiring turn. At that time he was saucy and an enthusiast. My husband laughed when he heard of the foolish affair, and now our Charlotte is a state councillor's wife.


And then he looks so splendid!


My father would have beaten a famous roll this evening. Now I must do it!


He has a splendid touch! I've a remembrance of him now that will last. I expect that the same thing will happen to his mother, from pure joy over her golden treasure.


Well, how shall we amuse ourselves?


I must tell you, that to-day is my birthday; and in honor of it I have been intrusted with a pair of goloshes, to introduce amongst mankind. These goloshes have the property of making every one who puts them on imagine himself in any place he wishes, or that he exists at any period. Every wish is fulfilled at the moment it is expressed, so that for once mankind have the chance of being happy.


No, you may depend upon it that whoever puts on those goloshes will be very unhappy, and bless the moment in which he can get rid of them.


What are you thinking of? Now see; I will place them by the door; some one will take them instead of his own, and he will be the happy man.


Why, this is horrible; how dreadfully dirty it is! and the whole pavement has vanished, and the lamps are all out.


That is most likely a museum of art, and they have forgotten to take down the sign. What odd figures! they must be returning from some masquerade.


That is the bishop of Zealand.


Good gracious! what in the world has happened to the bishop? what can he be thinking about? It cannot possibly be the bishop himself.


Does the gentleman wish to be ferried over the Holm?


To the Holm! I want to go to Christian's Haven, in Little Turf Street. Pray tell me where the bridge is! It is shameful that the lamps are not lighted here, and it is as muddy as if one were walking in a marsh. I don't understand your outlandish talk. What a scandalous condition this place is in. I think it will be better for me to take a coach; but where are they? I shall be obliged to go back to the king's new market, where there are plenty of carriages standing, or I shall never reach Christian's Haven. Dear me, what have they been erecting here? Either I behold a fata morgana, or I must be tipsy. What can it be? What is the matter with me? I am certainly all wrong,


and yet I only drank one glass of punch. But I cannot bear even that, and it was very foolish to give us punch and hot salmon; I shall speak about it to our hostess, the agent's lady. Suppose I were to go back now and say how ill I feel, I fear it would look so ridiculous, and it is not very likely that I should find any one up. This is really frightful; I cannot even recognize East Street. Not a shop to be seen; nothing but old, wretched, tumble-down houses, just as if I were at Roeskilde or Ringstedt. Oh, I really must be ill! It is no use to stand upon ceremony. But where in the world is the agent's house. There is a house, but it is not his; and people still up in it, I can hear. Oh dear! I certainly am very queer. Pardon me. I do not feel quite well, and I should be much obliged if you will send for a fly to take me to Christian's Haven.


Is that to-day's number of the Day? That is very old. Where did you get this singular sheet? It is very interesting, although the whole affair is a fable. Meteors are easily explained in these days; they are northern lights, which are often seen, and are no doubt caused by electricity. Oh no. I can only discourse on topics which every one should understand. May I ask to whom I have the pleasure of speaking? This is surely, an old village schoolmaster, a perfect original, such as one meets with sometimes even in Jutland. Oh yes. I am very fond of reading useful old books, and modern ones as well, with the exception of every-day stories, of which we really have more than enough. Yes, I mean the new novels that we have at the present day. Well, I have certainly not read that. I suppose it is quite new, and published by Heiberg. Oh, is he the publisher? That is a very old name, was it not the name of the first publisher in Denmark?


Goodness me! where am I? will you drink with us?


What is this? what does it mean? One might believe that the country was going back to heathenism. This is the most terrible moment of my life.


Is it possible that I have been lying here in the street dreaming? Yes, this is East Street; how beautifully bright and gay it looks! It is quite shocking that one glass of punch should have upset me like this.


Well, I declare, there lies a pair of goloshes. No doubt, they belong to the lieutenant who lives up stairs. They are lying just by his door. These things must keep the feet very warm, they are of such nice soft leather. Now, how droll things are in this world! There's that man can lie down in his warm bed, but he does not do so. There he goes pacing up and down the room. He ought to be a happy man. He has neither wife nor children, and he goes out into company every evening. Oh, I wish I were he; then I should be a happy man.


OH WERE I RICH! Oh were I rich! How oft, in youth's bright hour, When youthful pleasures banish every care, I longed for riches but to gain a power, The sword and plume and uniform to wear! The riches and the honor came for me; Yet still my greatest wealth was poverty: Ah, help and pity me! Once in my youthful hours, when gay and free, A maiden loved me; and her gentle kiss, Rich in its tender love and purity, Taught me, alas! too much of earthly bliss. Dear child! She only thought of youthful glee; She loved no wealth, but fairy tales and me. Thou knowest: ah, pity me! Oh were I rich! again is all my prayer: That child is now a woman, fair and free, As good and beautiful as angels are. Oh, were I rich in lovers' poetry, To tell my fairy tale, love's richest lore! But no; I must be silent--I am poor. Ah, wilt thou pity me? Oh were I rich in truth and peace below, I need not then my poverty bewail. To thee I dedicate these lines of woe; Wilt thou not understand the mournful tale? A leaf on which my sorrows I relate-- Dark story of a darker night of fate. Ah, bless and pity me! Well, yes; people write poems when they are in love, but a wise man will not print them. A lieutenant in love, and poor. This is a triangle, or more properly speaking, the half of the broken die of fortune. The poor watchman in the street, is far happier than I am. He knows not what I call poverty. He has a home, a wife and children, who weep at his sorrow and rejoice at his joy. Oh, how much happier I should be could I change my being and position with him, and pass through life with his humble expectations and hopes! Yes, he is indeed happier than I am.


That was an ugly dream, but droll enough. It seemed to me as if I were the lieutenant up yonder, but there was no happiness for me. I missed my wife and the little ones, who are always ready to smother me with kisses. There goes one! However, there are quite enough left; I should very much like to examine these a little nearer, especially the moon, for that could not slip away under one's hands. The student, for whom my wife washes, says that when we die we shall fly from one star to another. If that were true, it would be very delightful, but I don't believe it. I wish I could make a little spring up there now; I would willingly let my body lie here on the steps.


What is it o'clock, watchman?


I wish to goodness my head was through. I am too fat. I thought my head would be the worst, but I cannot get my body through, that is certain.


Ha, the blood is rushing to my head, and I shall go mad. I believe I am crazy already; oh, I wish I were free, then all these sensations would pass off.


I can fancy what I should see in the whole row of ladies and gentlemen on the first seat, if I could only look into their hearts; that lady, I imagine, keeps a store for things of all descriptions; how my eyes would wander about in that collection; with many ladies I should no doubt find a large millinery establishment. There is another that is perhaps empty, and would be all the better for cleaning out. There may be some well stored with good articles. Ah, yes. I know one, in which everything is solid, but a servant is there already, and that is the only thing against it. I dare say from many I should hear the words, 'Please to walk in.' I only wish I could slip into the hearts like a little tiny thought.


Oh, this must be the heart of an old maid; Good gracious! I must have a tendency to softening of the brain, and here it is so exceedingly hot that the blood is rushing to my head. That is the cause of it all! I must do something in time. A Russian bath would be a very good thing to begin with. I wish I were lying on one of the highest shelves. Ho! It is for a wager;


They look exactly like my own goloshes. It would require even more than the eye of a shoemaker to know one pair from the other.


Master clerk,


Those that are wet must be mine. A walk to Fredericksburg will do me good: Are you really going away so soon? What a free, happy man you are. You can roam about where you will, while such as we are tied by the foot.


But it is fastened to the bread-tree. You need have no anxiety for the morrow; and when you are old there is a pension for you.


Ah, yes; but you have the best of it, it must be so delightful to sit and write poetry. The whole world makes itself agreeable to you, and then you are your own master. You should try how you would like to listen to all the trivial things in a court of justice. They are strange people, these poets. I should like to try what it is to have a poetic taste, and to become a poet myself. I am sure I should not write such mournful verses as they do. This is a splendid spring day for a poet, the air is so remarkably clear, the clouds are so beautiful, and the green grass has such a sweet smell. For many years I have not felt as I do at this moment.


What a delightful perfume, it reminds me of the violets at Aunt Lora's. Ah, that was when I was a little boy. Dear me, how long it seems since I thought of those days! She was a good old maiden lady! she lived yonder, behind the Exchange. She always had a sprig or a few blossoms in water, let the winter be ever so severe. I could smell the violets, even while I was placing warm penny pieces against the frozen panes to make peep-holes, and a pretty view it was on which I peeped. Out in the river lay the ships, icebound, and forsaken by their crews; a screaming crow represented the only living creature on board. But when the breezes of spring came, everything started into life. Amidst shouting and cheers the ships were tarred and rigged, and then they sailed to foreign lands. I remain here, and always shall remain, sitting at my post at the police office, and letting others take passports to distant lands. Yes, this is my fate. Good gracious, what has come over me? I never felt before as I do now; it must be the air of spring. It is overpowering, and yet it is delightful. These will give me something else to think of. Mistress Sigbirth; an original Tragedy, in Five Acts. What is this?--in my own handwriting, too! Have I written this tragedy? The Intrigue on the Promenade; or, the Fast-Day. A Vaudeville. However did I get all this? Hem, hem!


It is light that adorns me,


But the air gives you the breath of life,


I must be asleep and dreaming; and yet, if so, how wonderful for a dream to be so natural and real, and to know at the same time too that it is but a dream. I hope I shall be able to remember it all when I wake tomorrow. My sensations seem most unaccountable. I have a clear perception of everything as if I were wide awake. I am quite sure if I recollect all this tomorrow, it will appear utterly ridiculous and absurd. I have had this happen to me before. It is with the clever or wonderful things we say or hear in dreams, as with the gold which comes from under the earth, it is rich and beautiful when we possess it, but when seen in a true light it is but as stones and withered leaves. Ah! they are much better off than I. Flying is a glorious power. Happy is he who is born with wings. Yes, if I could change myself into anything I would be a little lark. Well, now it is evident I must be dreaming; but I never had such a wild dream as this. Well, this is charming; by day I sit in a police-office, amongst the dryest law papers, and at night I can dream that I am a lark, flying about in the gardens of Fredericksburg. Really a complete comedy could be written about it.


You impudent rascal, I am a clerk in the police-office!


tweet, tweet;


It is well for me that I am dreaming, otherwise I should become really angry. First I was a poet, and now I am a lark. It must have been the poetic nature that changed me into this little creature. It is a miserable story indeed, especially now I have fallen into the hands of boys. I wonder what will be the end of it.


It will please Polly perhaps. It is Polly's birthday, and the little field-bird has come to offer his congratulations. You screamer!


Tweet, tweet, what a dreadful snowstorm!


Now let us be men.


I flew beneath green palm-trees, and amidst the blooming almond-trees. I flew with my brothers and sisters over beautiful flowers, and across the clear, bright sea, which reflected the waving foliage in its glittering depths; and I have seen many gay parrots, who could relate long and delightful stories.


They were wild birds, and totally uneducated. Now let us be men. Why do you not laugh? If the lady and her visitors can laugh at this, surely you can. It is a great failing not to be able to appreciate what is amusing. Now let us be men.


Do you remember, the pretty maidens who used to dance in the tents that were spread out beneath the sweet blossoms? Do you remember the delicious fruit and the cooling juice from the wild herbs?


Oh, yes, but here I am much better off. I am well fed, and treated politely. I know that I have a clever head; and what more do I want? Let us be men now. You have a soul for poetry. I have deep knowledge and wit. You have genius, but no discretion. You raise your naturally high notes so much, that you get covered over. They never serve me so. Oh, no; I cost them something more than you. I keep them in order with my beak, and fling my wit about me. Now let us be men.


O my warm, blooming fatherland. I will sing of thy dark-green trees and thy quiet streams, where the bending branches kiss the clear, smooth water. I will sing of the joy of my brothers and sisters, as their shining plumage flits among the dark leaves of the plants which grow wild by the springs.


Do leave off those dismal strains, sing something to make us laugh; laughter is the sign of the highest order of intellect. Can a dog or a horse laugh? No, they can cry; but to man alone is the power of laughter given. Ha! ha! ha! Now let us be men.


You little gray Danish bird, you also have become a prisoner. It is certainly cold in your forests, but still there is liberty there. Fly out! they have forgotten to close the cage, and the window is open at the top. Fly, fly!


Let us be men;


Let us be men now. Heaven preserve us! How did I get up here and fall asleep in this way? It was an uneasy dream too that I had. The whole affair appears most absurd.


Lend me your goloshes, it is so wet in the garden, but the sun is shining brightly. I should like to go out there and smoke my pipe.


Oh, to travel, to travel! there is no greater happiness in the world: it is the height of my ambition. This restless feeling would be stilled, if I could take a journey far away from this country. I should like to see beautiful Switzerland, to travel through Italy, and,


How lovely to my wondering eyes Mont Blanc's fair summits gently rise; 'Tis sweet to breathe the mountain air,-- If you have gold enough to spare.


Ah, if I were only on the other side of the Alps now, it would be summer, and I should be able to get money on my letter of credit. The anxiety I feel on this matter prevents me from enjoying myself in Switzerland. Oh, I wish I was on the other side of the Alps.


Delightful Italy!


like the eldest son of Famine who had just come of age.


Eccellenza, miserabili!


Let us have supper laid in the stable, then we shall know what we are breathing.


Miserabili, eccellenza.


Travelling would be all very well, if we had no bodies, or if the body could rest while the soul if flying. Wherever I go I feel a want which oppresses my heart, for something better presents itself at the moment; yes, something better, which shall be the best of all; but where is that to be found? In fact, I know in my heart very well what I want. I wish to attain the greatest of all happiness.


Esteem no man happy until he is in his grave,


Stern death, thy chilling silence waketh dread; Yet in thy darkest hour there may be light. Earth's garden reaper! from the grave's cold bed The soul on Jacob's ladder takes her flight. Man's greatest sorrows often are a part Of hidden griefs, concealed from human eyes, Which press far heavier on the lonely heart Than now the earth that on his coffin lies.


Look! what happiness have your goloshes brought to mankind?


They have at least brought lasting happiness to him who slumbers here,


Not so, he went away of himself, he was not summoned. His mental powers were not strong enough to discern the treasures which he had been destined to discover. I will do him a favor now.


Hark 'ee, youngster! You are a good and civil boy. I suppose your mother is busy washing the clothes down by the river, and you are going to carry that thing to her that you have in your pocket. It is very bad for your mother. How much have you got in it?


Only half a quartern,


And she has had just as much this morning already?


No, it was yesterday,


Two halves make a whole. She's good for nothing. What a sad thing it is with these people. Tell your mother she ought to be ashamed of herself. Don't you become a drunkard, but I expect you will though. Poor child! there, go now.