Citation
The goloshes of fortune

Material Information

Title:
The goloshes of fortune and other stories
Series Title:
The Hans Andersen library
Uniform Title:
Tales
Creator:
Andersen, H. C ( Hans Christian ), 1805-1875
Dulcken, H. W ( Henry William ), 1832-1894 ( Translator )
George Routledge and Sons ( Publisher )
Dalziel Brothers
Camden Press ( Printer )
Place of Publication:
London
Publisher:
George Routledge and Sons
Manufacturer:
Dalziel Brothers ; Camden Press
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
[4], 150 p., [1] leaf of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 17 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Fairy tales -- 1875 ( rbgenr )
Gold stamped cloth (Binding) -- 1875 ( local )
Bldn -- 1875
Genre:
Fairy tales ( rbgenr )
Gold stamped cloth (Binding) ( local )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
England -- London
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Illustrations engraved and signed by Dalziel.
Funding:
Brittle Books Program
Statement of Responsibility:
by Hans Christian Andersen ; translated by H.W. Dulcken ; illustrated with many pictures.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026505940 ( ALEPH )
41754975 ( OCLC )
ALF8736 ( NOTIS )

Downloads

This item has the following downloads:


Full Text










The Baldwin Library
University

RNB vite












The Councillor and the Picture.
The Goloshes of Fortune.







THE

GOLOSHES or FORTUNE

AND OTHER STORIES.

BY

HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN.

TRANSLATED BY

H. W. DULCKEN, Pu.D.

ILLUSTRATED WITH MANY PICTURES.



LONDON:
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS,
BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL.







2





THE GOLOSHES OF FORTUNE

THE SNOW QUEEN. .

THE NEIGHBOURING FAMILIES

FIVE OUT OF ONE SHELL .

THE BUCKWHEAT

THE ROSE-ELF . .



PAGE

130
(37
141



ADVERTISEMENT.

Tue Stories and Tales of Hans C. ANDERSEN
have established their position as standard works
for young people, therefore it is thought that the
present plan of publishing them in the form of a
Library will be acceptable.

In selecting the Stories for the separate Books,
care has been taken to combine the “ grave and
gay,” thus giving each Volume a varied interest.
The more simple Stories have been taken for the
-earlier Volumes, and thus the reader, gradually
progressing, will find the most advanced in the
concluding Volumes, each Book being complete

in. itself,





THE GOLOSHES OF FORTUNE.
J Ie

A Beginning.

3g|N a house in Copenhagen, not far from
the King’s New Market, a company
—a very large company—had assem-
bled, having received invitations to
an evening party there. One-half of the company
already sat at the card tables, and the other half
awaited the result of the hostess’s question, ““ What
shall we do now?” They had progressed ‘so far,
and the entertainment began to take some degree
of animation. Among other subjects the conver-
sation turned upon the Middle Ages. Some con-
sidered that period much more interesting than
our own times: yes, Councillor Knap defended this



view so zealously that the lady of the house went

over at once to his side; and both loudly exclaimed

against Oersted’s treatise in the Almanac on old
6 B



2 The Goloshes of Fortune.

and modern times, in which the chief advantage is
given to our own day. The councillor considered
the times of the Danish King Hans as the noblest
and happiest age.

While the conversation takes this turn, only in-
terrupted for a moment by the arrival of a news-
paper, which contained nothing worth reading, we
will betake ourselves to the ante-chamber, where
the cloaks, sticks, and goloshes had found a place.
Here sat two maids—an old one and a young one.
One would have thought they had come to escort
their mistresses home; but, on looking at them
more closely, the observer could see that they were
not ordinary servants : their shapes were too grace-
ful for that, their complexions too delicate, and the
cut of their dresses too uncommon. They were
two fairies. The younger was not Fortune, but
lady’s-maid to one of her ladies of the bed-chamber,
who carry about the more trifling gifts of Fortune.
The elder one looked somewhat more gloomy—she
was Care, who always goes herself in her own
exalted person to perform her business, for thus
she knows that it is well done.

They were telling each other where they had
been that day. The messenger of Fortune had
only transacted a few unimportant affairs, as, for









The Goloshes left at the door.

instance, she had preserved a new bonnet from a
shower of rain, had procured an honest man a bow
from a titled Nobody, and so on; but what she
had still to relate was something quite extraor-
dinary.

«T can likewise tell,” said she, “that to-day is
my birthday ; and in honour of it a pair of goloshes
has been entrusted to me, which I am to bring to
the human race. These goloshes have the property
that every one who puts them on is at once trans-
ported to the time and place in which he likes best
to be—every wish in reference to time, place, and

B2





4 The Goloshes of Fortune.

circumstance is at once fulfilled; and so for once
man can be happy here below!”

“ Believe me,” said Care, “ he will be very un-
happy, and will bless the moment when he can get
rid of the goloshes again.”

«What are you thinking of?” retorted the
other. “ Now I shall put them at the door. Some-
body will take them by mistake, and become the
happy one!”

You see, that was the dialogue they held.

II.
What happened to the Councillor.

Ir was late. Councillor Knap, lost in contem-
plation of the times of King Hans, wished to get
home; and fate willed that instead of his own
goloshes he should put on those of Fortune, and
thus went out into East Street. But by the power
of the goloshes he had been put back three hun-
dred years—into the days of King Hans; and
therefore he put his foot into mud and mire in the
street, because in those days there was not any
pavement,

“ Why, this is horrible—how dirty it is here!”



The Goloshes of Fortune. 5

said the councillor. ‘The good pavement is gone,
and all the lamps are put out.”

The moon did not yet stand high enough to give
much light, and the air was tolerably thick, so
that all objects seemed to melt together in the
darkness. At the next corner a lamp hung before
a picture of the Madonna, but the light it gave
was as good as none; he only noticed it when he
stood just under it, and his eyes fell upon the
painted figure.

“That is probably a museum of art,’ thought
he, ‘‘ where they haye forgotten to take down the
sign.”

“ Tow queer they look! they must have come
from a masquerade,” he said, as a couple of men in
the costume of those past days went by him.

Suddenly there was a sound of drums and fifes,
and torches gleamed brightly. The councillor
started. And now he saw a strange procession go
past. First came a whole. troop of drummers,
beating their instruments very dexterously ; they
were followed by men-at-arms, with longbows and
crossbows. The chief man in the procession was
a clerical lord. The astonished councillor asked
what was the meaning of this, and who the man
might be.



6 The Goloshes of Fortune.

«That is the Bishop of Zealand.”

“What in the world has come to the bishop? ”
said the councillor, with a sigh, shaking his head.
“This could not possibly be the bishop ! ”

Ruminating on this, and without looking to the
right or to the left, the councillor went through
the East Street, and over the Highbridge Place.
The bridge which led to the Palace Square was
not to be found; he perceived the shore of a shal-
low water, and at length encountered two people,
who sat in a boat.

“Do you wish to be ferried over to the Holm,
sir?” they asked.

“To the Holm!” repeated the councillor, who
did not know, you see, in what period he was. “I
want to go to Christian’s Haven and to Little Turf
Bereet:”

The men stared at him.

“Pray tell me where the bridge is,” said he.
‘* Tt is shameful that no lanterns are lighted here ;
and it is as muddy, too, as if one were walking in
a marsh.” But the longer he talked with the
boatmen the less could he understand them. ‘I
don’t understand your Bornholm talk,” he at last
cried, angrily, and turned his back upon them.
He could not find the bridge, nor was there any



The Goloshes of Fortune. 4

paling. “‘It is quite scandalous how things look
here!” he said—never had he thought his own
times so miserable as this evening. “TI think it
will be best if I take a cab,” thought he. But
where were the cabs ?—not one was to be seen. “I
shall have to go back to the King’s New Market,
where there are many carriages standing, other-
wise I shall never get as far as Christian’s Haven.”

Now he walked towards East Street, and had
almost gone through it when the moon burst forth.

“What in the world have they been erecting

here?” he exclaimed, when he saw the East Gate,
which in those days stood at the end of East
Street.
In the meantime, however, he found a passage
open, and through this he came out upon our New
Market; but it was a broad meadow. Single
bushes stood forth, and across the meadow ran a
great canal or stream. booths for Dutch skippers were erected on the
opposite shore.

“Wither I behold a Fata Morgana, or I am
tipsy,” sighed the councillor. ‘“ What can that
‘be? what can that be?”

He turned back, in the full persuasion that he
must be ill. In walking up the street he looked



8 The Goloshes of Fortune.

more closely at the houses; most of them were
built of laths, and many were only thatched with
straw.

“No, I don’t feel well at all!” he lamented.
“ And yet I only drank one glass of punch! But
I cannot stand that; and besides, it was very
foolish to give us punch and warm salmon. I shall
mention that to our hostess—the agent’s lady.
Suppose I go back, and say how I feel? But that
looks ridiculous, and it is a question if they will
be up still.”

He looked for the house, but could not find it.

“That is dreadful!’ he cried; “I don’t know
East Street again. Not one shop is to be seen;
old, miserable, tumble-down huts are all I see, as
if I were at Roeskilde or Ringstedt. .Oh, I am
ill! It’s no use to make ceremony. But where
in all the world is the agent’s house? It is no
longer the same; but within there are people up
still. I certainly must be ill!”

He now reached a half-open door, where the
light shone through a chink. It was a tavern of
that date—a kind of beer-house. The room had
the appearance of a Dutch wine shop; a number
. of people, consisting of seamen, citizens of Copen-
hagen, and a few scholars, sat in deep conversation



OAL EAL

The Goloshes of Fortune. 9

over their jugs, and paid little attention to the
new comer.

“T beg your pardon,” said the councillor to the
hostess, “but I feel very unwell; would you let
somebody get a fly to take me home to Christian’s
Haven?”

The woman looked at him and shook her head ;
then she spoke to him in German.

The councillor now supposed that she did not
understand Danish, so he repeated his wish in the
German language. This, and his costume, con-
vinced the woman that he was a foreigner. She
soon understood that he felt unwell, and therefore
brought him a jug of water. It certainly tasted a.
little of sea water, though it had been taken from
the spring outside.

The councillor leaned his head upon his hand,
drew a deep breath, and thought of all the strange
things that were happening about him.

“Ts that to-day’s number of the ‘Day’?” he
said, quite mechanically, for he saw that the woman
was putting away a large sheet of paper.

She did not uhderstand what he meant, but.
handed him the leaf: it was a woodcut representing
a strange appearance in the air which had been
seen in the city of Cologne.



10 The Goloshes of Fortune.

“That is very old!” said the councillor, who
became quite cheerful at sight of this antiquity.
“How did you come by this strange leaf? That
is very interesting, although the whole thing is a
fable. Now-a-days, these appearances are ex-
plained to be Northern Lights that have been seen;
probably they arise from electricity.”

Those who sat nearest to him and heard his
speech, looked at him in surprise, and one of them
rose, took off his hat respectfully, and said, with a
very grave face,

“You must certainly be a very learned man.”

“Oh, no!” replied the councillor ; “I can only
say a word or two about things that one ought to
understand.””

“« Modestia is a beautiful virtue,” said the man.
“ Moreover, I must say to your speech, ‘ mihi secus
videtur,’ yet I will gladly suspend my judicium.”

“May I ask with whom I have the pleasure of
speaking?” asked the councillor.

“T am a bachelor of theology,” replied the man.

This answer sufficed for the councillor; the title
corresponded with the garb.

“ Certainly,” he thought, “this must be an old
village schoolmaster, a queer character, such as
one finds sometimes over in Jutland.”



















or













The Councillor is alarmed.

“This is certainly not a locus docendi,’ began
the man; “but I beg to trouble you to speak.
You are doubtless well read in the ancients ? ””

«Oh, yes,” replied the councillor. ‘I am fond



12 The Goloshes of Fortune.

of reading useful old books; and am fond of the
modern ones, too, with the exception of the ‘Every-
day Stories,’ of which we have had enough, in all
conscience.”

“Eyery-day Stories?” said the bachelor, in-
quiringly. :

“Yes, I mean the new romances we have now.”

“Oh!” said the man, with a smile, “they are
very witty, and are much read at court. The King
is especially partial to the romance by Messieurs
Tffven and Gaudian, which talks about King
Arthur and his knights of the Round Table. He
has jested about it with his noble lords.”

“That I have certainly not yet read,” said the
councillor: “that must be quite a new book pub-
lished by Heiberg.”

“No,” retorted the man, “it is not published
by Heiberg, but by Godfrey von Gehmen.” *

“Indeed! is he the author?” asked the coun-
cillor. “That is a very old name: was not that
the name of about the first printer who appeared
in Denmark?”

“‘ Why, he is our first printer,” replied the man.

* The first printer and publisher in Denmark, under King
Hans. %



The Goloshes of Fortune. 13

So far it had gone well. But now one of the
men began to speak of a pestilence which he said
had been raging a few years ago: he meant the
plague of 1484. The councillor supposed that he
meant the cholera, and so the conversation went
on tolerably. The Freebooters’ War of 1490 was
so recent that it could not escape mention. The
English had taken ships from the very wharves,
said the man; and the councillor, who was well
acquainted with the events of 1801, joined in man-
fully against the English. The rest of the talk,
however, did not pass over so well; every moment
there was a contradiction. The good bachelor was
terribly ignorant, and the simplest assertion of the
councillor seemed too bold or too fantastic. They
looked at each other, and when it became too bad,
the bachelor spoke Latin, in the hope that he
would be better understood; but it was of no use.

“ How are you now?” asked the hostess, and
she plucked the councillor by the sleeve.

Now his recollection came back: in the course
of the conversation he had forgotten everything
that had happened.

“Good heavens! where am I?” he said, and he
felt dizzy when he thought of it.

*« We7ll drink claret, mead, and Bremen beer,”



14 The Goloshes of Fortune.

cried one of the guests, “and you shall drink with
us.”

Two girls came in. One of them had on a cap
of two colours. They poured out drink and bowed:
the councillor felt a cold shudder running all down
his back. “What’s that? what’s that?” he
cried; but he was obliged to drink with them.
They took possession of the good man quite po-
litely. He was in despair, and when one said that
he was tipsy he felt not the slightest doubt re-
garding the truth of the statement, and only
begged them to procure him a droschky. Now
they thought he was speaking Muscovite. Never
had he been in such rude vulgar company.

«One would think the country was falling back
into heathenism,’’ was his reflection. ‘This is
the most terrible moment of my life.”

_ But at the same time the idea occurred to him
to bend down under the table, and then to creep
out at the door. He did so; but just as he had
reached the entry the others discovered his inten-
tion. They seized him by the feet; and now the
goloshes, to his great good fortune, came off, and
—the whole enchantment vanished.

The councillor saw quite plainly, in front of
him, a lamp burning, and behind it a great build-



The Goloshes of Fortune. 15

ing; everything looked familiar and splendid. It
was Hast Street, as we know it now. He lay with
his legs turned towards a porch, and opposite to
him sat the watchman asleep.

“ Good gracious! have I been lying here in the
street dreaming?” he exclaimed. ‘‘ Yes, this is
East Street sure enough! how splendidly bright
and gay! It is terrible what an effect that one
glass of punch must have had-on me!”

Two minutes afterwards he was sitting in a fly,
which drove him out to Christian’s Haven. He
thought of the terror and anxiety he had under-
gone, and praised from his heart the happy present,
our own time, which, with all its shortcomings,
was far better than the period in which he had
been placed a short time before.

iif.

The Watchman’s Adventures.

“On my word, yonder lies a pair a goloshes!”

said the watchman. “They must certainly belong
to the lieutenant who lives up stairs. They are
lying close to the door.”

The honest man would gladly have rung the



16 The Goloshes of Fortune.

bell and delivered them, for up stairs there was a
light still burning; but he did not wish to disturb
the other people in the house, and so he let it
alone.

“Tt must be very warm to have a pair of such
things on,” said he. ‘ How nice and soft the
leather is!””? They fitted his feet very well. ““ How
droll it is im the world! Now, he might lie down
in his warm bed, and yet he does not! ‘There he
is pacing up and down the room. He is a happy
man! He has neither wife nor children, and every
evening he is at a party. Oh, I wish I were he,
then I should be a happy man!”

As he uttered the wish, the goloshes he had put
on produced their effect, and the watchman was
transported into the body and being of the lieu-
tenant. Then he stood up in the room, and held
a little pink paper in his fingers, on which was a
poem, a poem written by the lieutenant himself.
For who is there who has not once i his life had
a poetic moment? and at such a moment, if one
writes down one’s thoughts, there is poetry.

Yes, people write poetry when they are in love;
but a prudent man does not print such poenis.
The lieutenant was in love—and poor—that’s a
triangle, or, so to speak, the half of a broken



The Goloshes of Fortune. 17

square of happiness. The lieutenant felt that very
keenly, and so he laid his head against the window-
frame, and sighed a deep sigh.

«The poor watchman in the street yonder is far
happier than I. He does not know what I call



















The Watchman thinks of going to the Moon.

want. He has a home, a wife, and children, who
weep at his sorrow and rejoice at his joy. Oh! TI
should be happier than I am, could I change my
being for his, and pass through life with his hum-
ble desires and hopes. Yes, he is happier than I!”

In that same moment the watchman became a
watchman again; for through the power of the

6 c



18 The Goloshes of Fortune.

goloshes of Fortune he had assumed the personality
of the lieutenant; but then we know he felt far
less content, and preferred to be just what he had
despised a short time before. So the watchman
became a watchman again.

«That was an ugly dream,” said he, “ but droll
enough. It seemed to me that I was the lieu-
tenant up yonder, and that it was not pleasant at
all. I was without the wife and the boys, who are
now ready to half stifle me with kisses.”

He sat down again and nodded. The dream
would not go quite out of his thoughts. He had
the goloshes still on his feet. A falling star glided
down along the horizon.

«There went one,” said he, “ but for all that,
there are enough left. I should like to look at
those things a little nearer, especially the moon,
for that won’t vanish under one’s hands. The
student for whom my wife washes says that when
we die we fly from one star to another. That’s
not true, but it would be very nice. If I codld
only make a little spring up there, then my body
might lie here on the stairs for all I care.”

Now there are certain assertions we should be
very cautious of making in this world, but doubly
careful when we have goloshes of Fortune on.



The Goloshes of Fortune. 19

Just hear what happened to the watchman.

So far as we are concerned, we all understand
the rapidity of dispatch by steam; we have tried
it either in railways, or in steamers across the sea.
But this speed is as the crawling of the sloth or
the march of the snail in comparison with the
swiftness with which light travels. That flies nine-
teen million times quicker. Death is an electric
shock we receive in our hearts, and on the wings
of electricity the liberated soul flies away. The
sunlight requires eight minutes and a few seconds
for a journey of more than ninety-five millions of
miles; on the wings of electric power the soul
requires only a few moments to accomplish the
same flight. The space between the orbs of the
universe is, for her, not greater than, for us, the
distances between the houses of our friends dwel-
ling in the same town and even living close toge-
ther. Yet this electric shock costs us the life of
the body here below, unless, like the watchman,
we have the magic goloshes on.

In a few seconds the watchman had traversed
the distance of two hundred and sixty thousand
miles to the moon, which body, as we know, con-
sists of a much lighter material than that of our
earth, and is, as we should say, soft as new-fallen

C2



20 The Goloshes of Fortune.

snow. ~ He found himself on one of the many ring
mountains with which we are familiar from Dr.
Madler’s great map of the moon. Within the
ring a great bowl-shaped hollow went down to the
depth of a couple of miles. At the base of the
hollow lay a town, of whose appearance we can
only form an idea by pouring the white of an egg
into a glass of water: the substance here was just
as soft as white of egg, and formed similar towers,
and cupolas, and terraces like sails, transparent
and floating in the thin air. Our earth hung over
his head like a great dark red ball.

He immediately became aware of a number of
beings, who were certainly what we call “men,”
but their appearance was very different from ours.
If they had been put up in a row and painted, one
would have said, “That ’s a beautiful arabesque !”
They had also a language, but no one could exp¢ct
that the soul of the watchman should understand
it. But the watchman’s soul did understand it,
for our souls have far greater abilities than we
suppose. - Does not its wonderful dramatic talent
show itself in our dreams? Then every one of our
acquaintances appears speaking in his own cha-
racter and with his own voice, in a way that not
one of us could imitate in our waking hours. How



The Goloshes of Fortune. at

- does our soul bring back to us people of whom we
have not thought for many years? Suddenly
they come into our souls with their smallest pecu-
liarities about them. In fact, it is a fearful thing,
that memory which our souls possess : it can repro-
duce every sin, every bad thought. And then, it
may be asked, shall we be able to give an account
of every idle word that has been in our hearts and
on our lips ?

Thus the watchman’s soul understood the lan-
guage of the people in the moon very well. They
disputed about this earth, and doubted if it could
be inhabited; the air, they asserted, must be too
thick for a sensible moon-man to live there. They
considered that the moon alone was peopled; for
that, they said, was the real body in which the
old-world people dwelt. They also talked of po-
litics. | 3

But let us go down to the East Street, and see
how it fared with the body of the watchman.

He sat lifeless upon the stairs. His pike had
fallen out of his hand, and his eyes stared up at
the moon, which his honest body was wondering
about.

“What’s o’clock, watchman?” asked a passer
by. But the man who didn’t answer was the



29, The Goloshes of Fortune.

watchman. Then the passengers tweaked him
quite gently by the nose, and then he lost his
balance. There lay the body stretched out at full
length—the man was dead.- All his comrades
were very much frightened: dead he was, and dead
he remained. It was reported, and it was dis-
cussed, and in the morning the body was carried
out to the hospital.

That would be a pretty jest for the soul if it
should chance to come back, and probably seek its
body in the Hast Street, and not find it! Most
likely it would go first to the police and afterwards
to the address office, that inquiries might be made
from thence respecting the missing goods; and
thence it would wander out to the hospital. But we
may console ourselves with the idea that the soul
is most clever when it acts upon its own account ;
it is the body that makes it stupid.

_ As we have said, the watchman’s body was taken
to the hospital, and brought into the washing-
room; and naturally enough the first thing they
did there was to pull off the goloshes; and then
the soul had to come back. It took its way
directly towards the body, and in a few seconds
there was life in the man. He declared that this
had been the most terrible night of his life ; he



The Goloshes of Fortune. 2.3

would not have such feelings again, not for a shil-
ling; but now it was past and over.

The same day he was allowed to leave ; but the
goloshes remained at the hospital.

IV.
A Great Moment.—A very Unusual Journey.

Every one who belongs to Copenhagen knows
the look of the entrance to the Frederick’s Hos-
pital in Copenhagen; but as, perhaps, a few will
read this story who do not belong to Copenhagen,
it becomes necessary to give a short description
of it.

The hospital is separated from the street by a
tolerably high railing, in which the thick iron rails
stand so far apart, that certain very thin inmates
are said to have squeezed between them, and thus
paid their little visits outside the premises. The
part of the body most difficult to get through was
the head; and here, as it often happens in the
world, small heads were the most fortunate. This
will be sufficient as an introduction.

One of the young volunteers, of whom one could
only say in one sense that he had a great head, had



24 The Goloshes of Fortune.

the watch that evening. The rain was pouring
down; but in spite of this obstacle he wanted to
go out, only for a quarter of an hour. It was
needless, he thought, to tell the porter of his wish,
especially if he could slip through between the
rails. There lay the goloshes which the watchman
had forgotten. It never occurred to him in the
least that they were goloshes of Fortune. They
would do him very good service in this rainy wea-
ther, and he pulled them on. Now the question
was whether he could squeeze through the bars ;
till now he had never tried it. There he stood.

“T wish to goodness I had my head outside! ””
cried he.

Andimmediately, though his head was very thick
and big, it glided: easily and quickly through.
The -goloshes must have understood it well; but
now the body was to slip through also, and that
could not be done.

“J ’m too fat,” said he. “I thought my head
‘was the thickest. I sha’n’t get through.”

Now he wanted to pull his head back quickly,
but he could not manage it: he could move his
neck, but that was all. His first feeling was one
of anger, and then his spirits sank down to zero.
The goloshes of Fortune had placed him in this



The Goioshes of Fortune. 25
5

terrible condition, and, unfortunately, it never oc-
curred to him to wish himself free. No: instead
of wishing, he only strove, and could not stir from
the spot. The rain poured down; not a creature
was to be seen in the street; he could not reach
the gate bell, and how was he to get loose? He
foresaw that he would have to remain here until
the morning, and then they would have to send
for the blacksmith, to file through the iron bars.
But such a business is not to be done quickly,
The whole charity school would be upon its legs ;
the whole sailors’ quarter close by would come up
and see him standing in the pillory; and a fine
crowd there would be.

“Ugh!” he cried, “the blood’s rising to my
head, and I shall go mad! Yes, 1’m going mad!
‘If I were free, most likely it would pass over.”

That ’s what he ought to have said at first. The
very moment he had uttered the thought his head
was free; and now he rushed in, quite dazed with
the fright the goloshes of Fortune had given him.
But we must not think the whole affair was over ;
there was much worse to come yet.

The night passed away, and the following day
too, and nobody sent for the goloshes. In the
evening a display of oratory was to take place in





26 The Goloshes of Fortune.

an amateur theatre in a distant street. The house
was crammed; and among the audience was the
volunteer from the hospital, who appeared to have
forgotten his adventures of the previous evening.
He had the goloshes on, for they had not been
sent for; and as it was dirty in the streets, they
might do him good service. A new piece was
recited: it was called “My Aunt’s Spectacles.”
These were spectacles which, when any one put
them on in a great assembly of people, made all
present look like cards, so that one could prophesy
from them all that would happen in the coming
year.

The idea struck him: he would have liked to
possess such a pair of spectacles. If they were
used rightly, they would perhaps enable the wearer
to look into people’s hearts; and that, he thought,
would be more interesting than to see what was
going to happen in the next year ; for future events
would be known in time, but the people’s thoughts
never.

“Now I’1l look at the row of ladies and gentle-
men on the first bench: if one could look directly
into their hearts! Yes, that must be a hollow, a
sort of shop. How my eyes would wander about
in that shop! In every lady’s, yonder, I should



The Goloshes of Fortune. 27

doubtless find a great milliner’s warehouse: with
this one here the shop is empty, but it would do
no harm to have it cleaned out. But would there
really be such shops? Ah, yes!” he continued,
sighing, “I know one in which all the goods are
first-rate, but there’s a servant in it already, that’s
the only drawback in the whole shop! From one
and another the word would be ‘ Please to step in |’
Oh that I might only step in, like a neat little
thought, and slip through their hearts !”

That was the word of command for the goloshes.
The volunteer shrivelled up, and began to take a
very remarkable journey through the hearts of the
first row of spectators. The first heart through
which he passed was that of a lady; but he imme-
diately fancied himself in the Orthopedic Institute,
in the room where the plaster casts of deformed
limbs are kept hanging against the walls; the only
difference was, that these casts were formed in the
institute when the patients came in, but here in
the heart they were formed and preserved after the
good persons had gone away. For they were casts
of female friends, whose bodily and. mental faults
were preserved here.

Quickly he had passed into another female heart.
But this seemed to him like a great holy church



28 The Goloshes of Fortune.

the white dove of innocence fluttered over the
high altar. Gladly would he have sunk down on
his knees; but he was obliged to go away into the
next heart. Still, however, he heard the tones of
the organ, and it seemed to him that he himself
had become another and a better man. He felt
himself not unworthy to enter into the next sanc-
tuary, which showed itself in the form of a poor
garret, containing a sick mother. But through
the window the warm sun streamed in, and two
sky-blue birds sang full of childlike joy, while the
sick mother prayed for a blessing on her daughter.
Now he crept on his hands and knees through
an oyer-filled butcher’s shop. There was meat,
and nothing but meat, wherever he went. It was
the heart of a rich respectable man, whose name
is certainly to be found in the address-book.
Now he was in the heart of this man’s wife:
this heart was an old dilapidated pigeon-house.
. The husband’s portrait was used as a mere weather-
cock: it stood in connection with the doors, and
these doors opened and shut according as the hus-
band turned.
Then he came into a cabinet of mirrors, such as
we. find in the castle of Rosenburg; but these
mirrors magnified ina great degree. Inthe middle



The Goloshes of Fortune. 29

of the floor sat, like a Grand Lama, the imsignifi-
cant I of the proprietor, astonished in the contem-
plation of his own greatness.

Then he fancied himself transported into a
narrow needle-case full of pointed needles ; and he





fl

ma









The Volunteer tries a blister.

thought, ‘‘ This must decidedly be the heart of an °
old maid!” But that was not the case. It was
a young officer, wearmg several orders, and of
whom people said, “ He’s a man of intellect and
heart.”

Quite confused was the poor edlitntade when he
emerged from the heart of the last person in the



30 The Goloshes of Fortune.

first row. He could not arrange his thoughts, and
fancied it must be his powerful imagination which
had run away with him.

_“ Gracious powers!” he sighed, “I must cer-
tainly have a great tendency to go mad. It is also
unconscionably hot in here: the blood is rising to
my head!”

And now he remembered the great event of the
last evening, how his head had been caught between
the iron rails of the hospital. :

“That ’s where I must have caught it,” thought
he. “T must do something at once. A Russian
bath might be very good. I wish I were lying on
the highest board in the bath-house.”

And there he lay on the highest board in the
vapour bath; but he was lying there in all his
clothes, in boots and goloshes, and the hot drops
from the ceiling were falling on his face.

“Hi!” he cried, and jumped down to take a
plunge bath.

The attendant uttered a loud cry on seeing a
person there with all his clothes on. The volun-
teer had, however, enough presence of mind to
whisper to him, “It’s for a wager!”? But the
first thing he did when he got into his own reom
was to put a big blister on the nape of his neck,



The Goloshes of Fortune. 31

and another on his back, that they might draw out
his madness.

Next morning he had a very sore back; and
that was all he had got by the goloshes of Fortune.

We
The Transformation of the Copying Clerk.

Tur watchman, whom we surely have not yet
forgotten, in the meantime thought of the goloshes,
which he had found and brought to the hospital.
He took them away; but as neither the lieutenant
nor any one in the street would own them, they
were taken to the police office.

“They look exactly like my own goloshes,” said
one of the copying gentlemen, as he looked at the
unowned articles and put them beside his own.
“ More than a shoemaker’s eye is required to dis-
tinguish them from one another.”

“Mr. Copying Clerk,” said a servant, coming
in with some papers.

The copying clerk turned and spoke to the man :
when he had done this, he turned to look at the
goloshes again ; he was in great doubt if the right-
hand or the left-hand pair belonged to him.

“Tt must be those that are wet,” he thought.



25 The Goloshes of Fortune.

Now here he thought wrong, for these were the
goloshes of Fortune; but why should not the
police be sometimes mistaken? He put them on,
thrust his papers into his pocket, and put a few
manuscripts under his arm, for they were to be
read at home, and abstracts to be made from them.
But now it was Sunday morning, and the weather
was fine. :

“ A walk to Fredericksburg would do me good,”
said he; and he went out accordingly.

There could not be a quieter, steadier person .
than this young man. We grant him his little
walk with all our hearts; it will certainly do him
good after so much sitting. At first he only walked
like a vegetating creature, so the goloshes had no
opportunity of displaying their magic power.

In the avenue he met an acquaintance, one of
our younger poets, who told him that he was going
to start, next day, on a summer trip.

“Are you going away again already?” asked
the copying clerk. ‘ What a happy, free man you
are! You can fly wherever you like; we others
have a chain to our foot.”

“ But it is fastened to the bread tree!” replied
the poet. ‘“ You need not be anxious for the mor-
row; and when you grow old you get a pension.”



The Goloshes of Fortune. 3

“But you are better off, after all,’ said the
copying clerk. “It must be a pleasure to sit and
write poetry. Everybody says agreeable things to
you, and then you are your own master. Ah, you
should just try it, poring over the frivolous affairs
in the court.”

The poet shook his head, and the copying clerk
shook his head also: each retained his own opinion ;
and thus they parted.

“They are a strange race, these poets ! ” thought
the copying clerk. “I should like to try and enter
into such a nature—to become a poet myself. Iam
certain I should not write such complaining verses
as the rest. What a splendid spring day for a
poet! the air is so remarkably clear, the clouds
are so beautiful, and the green smells so sweet.
For many years I have not felt as I feel at this
moment.”

We already notice that he has become a poet.
To point this out would, in most cases, be what the
Germans call “mawkish.” It is a foolish fancy
to imagine a poet different from other people, for
among the latter there may be natures more poet-
ical than those of many an acknowledged poet.
The difference is only that the poet has a better
spiritual memory: his ears hold fast the feeling

6 D



34 The Goloshes of Fortune.

and the idea until they are embodied clearly and
firmly in words; and the others cannot do that.
But the transition from an every-day nature to
that of a poet is always a transition, and as such
it must be noticed in the copying clerk.

« What glorious fragrance!” he cried. “ How
it reminds me of the violets at Aunt Laura’s!
Yes, that was when I was a little boy. 1 have
not thought of that for a long time. The good
old lady! She lies yonder, by the canal. She
always had a twig or a couple of green shoots in
the water, let the winter be as severe as it might.
The violets bloomed, while I had to put warm
farthings against the frozen window-panes to make
peep-holes. That was a pretty view. Out in the
canal the ships were frozen in, and deserted by the
whole crew; a screaming crow was the only living
creature left. Then, when the spring breezes
blew, it all became lively: the ice was sawn apart
amid great shouting and cheers, the ships were
tarred and rigged, and then they sailed away to
strange lands. I remained here, and must always.
remain, and sit at the police office, and let others
take passports for abroad. That’s my fate. Oh,
yes!” and he sighed deeply. Suddenly he paused.
“Good Heaven! what is come to me? I never



The Goloshes of Fortune. a5

thought or felt as I do now. It must. be the
spring air: it is just as dizzying as it is charming !”
He felt in his pockets for his papers. “ These will
give me something else to think of,” said he, and
let his eyes wander over the first leaf. There he
read: “*Dame Sigbirth; an original tragedy in
five acts’? What is that? And it is my own
hand. Have I written this tragedy? ‘The Intrigue
on the Promenade; or, the Day of Penance.—Vau-
deville’ But where did I get that from? It must
have been put into my pocket. Here is a letter.
Yes, it was from the manager of the theatre; the
pieces were rejected, and the letter is not at all
politely worded. H’m! H’m!” said the copying
clerk, and he sat down upon a bench: his thoughts
were elastic; his head was quite soft. Involun-
tarily he grasped one of the nearest flowers; it
was a common little daisy. What the botanists
require several lectures to explain to us, this flower
told in a minute. It told the glory of its birth;
it told of the strength of the sunlight, which spread
out the delicate leaves and made them give out
fragrance. Then he thought of the battles of life,
which likewise awaken feelings in our breasts.
Air and light are the lovers of the flower, but light
is the favoured one. ‘Towards the light it turned,
D2



36 The Goloshes of Fortune.

and only when the light vanished the flower rolled
her leaves together and slept in the embrace of
the air.

“Tt is light that adorns me!” said the Flower.

“But the air allows you to breathe,” whispered
the poet’s voice.

Just by him stood a little boy, knocking with
his stick upon the marshy ground. ‘The drops of
water spurted up among the green twigs, and the
copying clerk thought of the millions of infusoria
which were cast up on high with the drops, which
was the same to them, in proportion to their size,
as it would be to us if we were hurled high over
the region of the clouds. And the copying clerk
thought of this and of the great change which had
taken place within him; he smiled.

“J sleep and dream! It is wonderful, though,
how naturally one can dream, and yet know all
the time that it is a dream. I should like to be ©
able to remember it all clearly to-morrow when I
wake. I seem to myself quite unusually excited.
What a clear appreciation I have of everything,
and how free I feel! But I am certain that if I
remember anything of it to-morrow, it will be
nonsense. That has often been so with me before.
It is with all the clever famous things one says



The Goloshes of Fortune. bi,

and hears in dreams as with the money of the
elves under the earth; when one receives it, it is
rich and beautiful, but looked at by daylight, it
is nothing but stones and dried leaves. Ah!” he
sighed, quite plaintively, and gazed at the chirping
birds, as they sprang merrily from bough to bough,
‘they are much better off than I. Flying is a
noble art. Happy he who is born with wings.
Yes, if I could change myself into anything, it
should be into a lark.”

In a moment his coat-tails and sleeves grew
together and formed wings; his clothes became
feathers, and his goloshes claws. He noticed it
quite plainly, and laughed inwardly.

“Well, now I can see that I am dreaming, but
so wildly I have never dreamed before.”

And he flew up into the green boughs and sang ;
but there was no poetry in the song, for the poetic
nature was gone. The goloshes, like every one
who wishes to do any business thoroughly, could
only do one thing at a time. He wished to bea
poet, and he became one. Then he wished to be
a little bird, and, in changing thus, the former
peculiarity was lost.

“That is charming!” he said. “In the day-
time I sit in the police office among the driest of



38 The Goloshes of Fortune.

law papers; at night I can dream that I am flying
about, as a lark, in the Fredericksburg Garden.
One could really write a popular comedy upon it.”

Now he flew down into the grass, turned his
head in every direction, and beat with his beak
upon the bending stalks of grass, which, in pro-
portion to his size, seemed to him as long as palm
branches of Northern Africa.

Tt was only for a moment, and then all around
him became as the blackest night. It seemed to
him that some immense substance was cast over
him: it was a great cap, which a sailor boy threw
over the bird. A hand came in and seized the
copying clerk by the back and wings in a way that
made him whistle. In his terror he cried aloud,

“The impudent rascal! I am copying clerk at
the police office !”’

But that sounded to the boy only like “piep!
piep!”” and he tapped the bird on the beak and
wandered on with him.

In the alley the boy met two other boys, who
belonged to the educated classes, socially speaking,
but, according to abilities, they ranked in the
lowest class in the school. These bought the bird
for a few Danish shillings; and so the copying
clerk was carried back to Copenhagen.



The Goloshes of Fortune. 39

“Tt’s a good thing that I am dreaming,” he
said, “or I should become really angry. First I
was a poet, and now I’m a lark! Yes, it must
have been the poetic nature which transformed me
into that little creature. It is a miserable state







The Copying Clerk changes hands.

of things, especially when one falls into the hands
of boys. I should like to know what the end of
it will be.”

The boys carried him into a very elegant room.
A stout smiling lady received them. But she was
not at all gratified to see the common field bird, as
she called the lark, coming in too. Only for one



40 ~The Goloshes of Fortune.

day she would consent to it; but they must put
the bird in the empty cage which stood by the
window.

“Perhaps that will please Polly,” she added,
and laughed at a great Parrot swinging himself
proudly in his ring in the handsome brass cage.

“It’s Polly’s birthday,” she said, simply, “so
the little field bird shall congratulate him.”

Polly did not answer a single word; he only
‘swung proudly to and fro. Buta pretty Canary,
who had been brought here last summer out of his
warm fragrant fatherland, began to sing loudly.

“Screamer!” said the lady; and she threw a
white handkerchief over the cage.

«Piep! piep!” sighed he; “here’s a terrible
snow-storm.”” And thus sighing, he was silent.

The copying clerk, or, as the lady called him,
the field bird, was placed in a little cage close to
the Canary, and not far from the Parrot. The
only human words which Polly could say, and
which often sounded very comically, were “ Come,
let’s be men now!’ Liverything else that he
screamed out was just as unintelligible as the
song of the Canary bird, except for the copying
clerk, who was now also a bird, and who under-
stood his comrades very well.



The Goloshes of Fortune. 41

“T flew under the green palm tree and the
blossoming almond tree!” sang the Canary. “I
flew with my brothers and sisters over the beau-
tiful flowers and over the bright sea, where the
plants waved in the depths. I also saw many
beautiful parrots, who told the merriest stories.”

«Those were wild birds,” replied the Parrot.
«They had no education. Iset us be men now!
Why don’t you laugh? If the lady and all the
strangers could laugh at it, so can you. It isa
great fault to have no taste for what is pleasant.
No, let us be men now.”’

“Do you remember the pretty girls who danced
under the tents spread out beneath the blooming
trees? Do you remember the sweet fruits and
cooling juice in the wild plants ?”

“Oh, yes!” replied the Parrot; “but here I
am far better off. I have good care and genteel
treatment. I know I’ve a good head, and I don’t
ask for more. Let us be men now. You are what
they call a poetic soul. I have thorough know-
ledge and wit. You have genius, but no pru-
dence. You mount up into those high natural
notes of yours, and then you get covered up. That
is never done to me; no, no, for I cost them a
little more. I make an impression with my beak,



42 The Goloshes of Fortune.

and can cast wit around me. Now let us be
men !”

“O my poor blooming fatherland!” sang the
Canary. “I will praise thy dark green trees and
thy quiet bays, where the branches kiss the clear
watery mirror ; I’ll sing of the joy of all my shining
brothers and sisters, where the plants grow by the
desert springs.” ¢

“Now, pray leave off these dismal tones,” cried
the Parrot. ‘Sing something at which one can
laugh! Laughter is the sign of the highest mental
development. Look if a dog ora horse can laugh!
No: they can cry; but laughter—that is given to
men alone. Ho! ho! ho!” screamed Polly, and
finished the jest with “ Let us be men now.”

- “You little grey Northern bird,” said the Ca-
nary, “‘so you have also become a prisoner. It is
certainly cold in your woods, but still liberty is
there. Fly out! they have forgotten to close your
cage ; the upper window is open. Fly! fly!”

Instinctively the copying clerk obeyed, and flew
forth from his prison. At the same moment the
half-opened door of the next room creaked, and
stealthily, with fierce sparkling eyes, the house cat
crept in, and made chase upon him. The Canary
fluttered in its cage, the Parrot flapped its wings,



The Goloshes of Fortune. 43

and cried “Let us be men now.” The copy:ng
clerk felt mortally afraid, and flew through the
window, away over the houses and streets ; at last
he was obliged to rest a little.

The house opposite had a homelike look: one
of the windows stood open, and he flew in. It
was his own room: he perched upon the table.

“Tuet us be men now,’ he broke out, invo-
luntarily imitating the Parrot; and in the same
moment he was restored to the form of the copy-
ing clerk ; but he was sitting on the table.

“Heaven preserve me!” he cried. ‘‘ How
could I have come here and fallen so soundly
asleep? That was an unquiet dream, too, that I
had. The whole thing was great nonsense.”

VI.
The Best that the Goloshes brought.

On the following day, quite early in the morn-
ing, as the clerk still lay in bed, there came a
tapping at his door: it was his neighbour who.
lodged on the same floor, a young theologian ; and.
he came in.

“Tend me your goloshes,” said he. ‘It is



44 The Goloshes of Fortune.

very wet in the garden, but the sun shines glo-
riously, and I should like to smoke a pipe down
there.”

He put on the goloshes, and was soon in the
garden, which contained a plum tree and an apple
tree. Even a little garden like this is highly prized
in the midst of great cities.

The theologian wandered up and down the path;
it was only six o’clock, and a post-horn sounded
out in the street.

“Oh, travelling! travelling!” he cried out,
“that’s the greatest happiness in all the world.
That’s the highest goal of my wishes. Then this
disquietude that I feel would be stilled. But it
would have to be far away. I should like to see
beautiful Switzerland, to travel through Italy,
to 39

Yes, it was a good thing that the goloshes took
effect immediately, for he might have gone too far



even for himself and for us others too. He was
travelling; he was in the midst of Switzerland,
packed tightly with eight others in the interior of
a diligence. He had a headache and a weary
feeling in his neck, and his feet had gone to sleep,
for they were swollen by the heavy boots he had
on, He was hovering in a condition between



The Goloshes of Fortune. 45

sleeping and waking. In his right-hand pocket
he had his letter of credit, in his left-hand pocket
his passport, and a few louis d’or were sewn into
a little bag he wore on his breast. Whenever he
dozed off, he dreamed he had lost one or other of
these possessions; and then he would start up in
a feverish way, and the first movement his hand
made was to describe a triangle from left to right,
and towards his breast, to feel whether he still
possessed them or not. Umbrellas, hats, and
walking sticks swang in the net over him, and
almost took away the prospect, which was impres-
sive enough: he glanced out at it, and his heart
sang what one poet at least, whom we know, has
sung in Switzerland, but has not yet printed ;

«Tis a prospect as fine as heart can desire,
Before me Mont Blanc the rough:
"Tis pleasant to tarry here and admire,
If only you’ve money enough.”

Great, grave, and dark was all nature around him.
The pine woods looked like little mosses upon the
high rocks, whose summits were lost m cloudy
mists; and then it began to snow, and the wind
blew cold. :

* Ugh!” he sighed; “if we were only the other



46 The Goloshes of Fortune.

side of the Alps, then it would be summer, and I
should have got money on my letter of credit: my
anxiety about this prevents me from enjoying
Switzerland. Oh, if I were only at the other side!”
- And then he was on the other side, in the midst
of Italy, between Florence and Rome. ‘The lake
Thrasymene lay spread out im the evening light,
like flaming gold among the dark blue hills.
Here, where Hannibal beat Flaminius, the grape-
vines held each other by their green fingers ; pretty
half naked children were keeping a herd of coal-
black pigs under a clump of fragrant laurels by
the way-side. If we could reproduce this scene
accurately, all would cry, ‘ Glorious Italy!” But
neither the theologian nor any of his travelling

~ companions in the carriage of the vetturino thought
this.

Poisonous flies and gnats flew into the carriage
by thousands. In vain they beat the air fran-
tically with a myrtle branch—the flies stung them
nevertheless. There was not one person in the
carriage whose face was not swollen and covered
with stings. The poor horses looked miserable,
the flies tormented them wofully, and it only
mended the matter for a moment when the coach-
man dismounted and scraped them clean from the



The Goloshes of Fortune. 47

insects that sat upon them in great swarms. Now
the sun sank down; a short but icy coldness per-
vaded all nature; it was like the cold air of a
funeral vault after the sultry summer day; and all
around the hills and clouds put on that remark-
able green tone which we notice on some old pic-
tures, and consider so unnatural unless we have
ourselves witnessed a similar play of colour. It
was a glorious spectacle; but the stomachs of all
were empty and their bodies exhausted, and every
wish of the heart turned towards a resting-place
for the night; but how could that be won? To
descry this resting-place all eyes were turned more
eagerly to the road than towards the beauties of
nature.

The way now led through an olive wood: he
could have fancied himself passing between knotty
willow trunks at home. Here, by the solitary inn,
a dozen crippled beggars had taken up their posi-
tions: the quickest among them looked, to quote
an expression of Marryat’s, like the eldest son of
Famine, who had just come of age. The others
were either blind, or had withered legs, so that
they crept about on their hands, or they had wi-
thered arms with fingerless hands. This was misery
in rags indeed. “ Eccellenza, miserabili!” they



48 The Goloshes of Fortune.

sighed, and stretched forth their diseased limbs.
The hostess herself, in untidy hair, and dressed in
a dirty blouse, received her guests. The doors
were tied up with string; the floor of the room
was of brick, and half of it was grubbed up; bats
flew about under the roof, and the smell with-
in



“Yes, lay the table down in the stable,” said
one of the travellers. “ There, at least, one knows
what one is breathing.”

The windows were opened, so that a little fresh
air might find its way in; but quicker than the
air came the withered arms and the continual
whining, “ Miserabili, Eccellenza!’’ On the walls
were many inscriptions; half of them were against
“ La bella Italia.”

The supper was served. It consisted of a watery
soup, Seasoned with pepper and rancid oil. This
last dainty played a chief part in the salad; musty
eggs and roasted cocks’-combs were the best dishes.
Even the wine had a strange taste—it was a dread-
ful mixture. -_

At night the boxes were placed up against the
doors, and one of the travellers kept watch while
the rest slept. The theologian was the sentry.
Oh, how close it was in there. The heat oppressed



The Goloshes of Fortune. 49

him; the gnats buzzed and stung, and the misera-
bil outside moaned in their dreams.

“Yes, travelling would be all very weil,’’ said
the theologian, “if one had no body. If the body
could rest, and the mind fly! Wherever I go, I
find a want that oppresses my heart: it is some-
thing better than the present moment that I desire.
Yes, something better—the best ; but what is that,
and where is it? In my own heart I know very
well what I want: I want to attain to a happy
goal, the happiest of all!”

And so soon as the word was spoken he found
himself at home. The long white curtains hung
down from the windows, and in the middle of the
room stood a black coffin ; in this he was lying in
the quiet sleep of death: his wish was fulfilled
—his body was at rest and his spirit roaming.
“Hsteem no man happy who is not yet in his
graye,’ were the words of Solon; here their force
was proved anew.

Every corpse is a sphinx of immortality; the
sphinx here also in the black sarcophagus answered
what the living man had laid down two days be-
fore:—

“Thou strong, stern Death! Thy silence waketh fear;

Thou leavest mould’ring gravestones for thy traces.
6 E



50 The Goloshes of Fortune.

Shall not the soul see Jacob’s ladder here ?
No resurrection type but churchyard grasses ?
The deepest woes escape the world’s dull eye:
Thou that alone on Duty’s path hast sped,
Heavier those duties on thy heart would lie
Than lies the earth now on thy coffin’d head.”

Two forms were moving to and fro in the room.
We know them both. They were the Fairy of
Care and the Ambassadress of Happmess. They
bent down over the dead man.

“Do you see?” said Care. “‘ What happiness
have your goloshes brought to men?”

«They have at least brought a permanent bene-
fit to him who slumbers here,’’ replied Happiness.

“Oh, no!” said Care. ‘He went away of
’ himself, he was not summoned. His spirit was
not strong enough to lift the treasures which he
had been destined to lift. I will do him a favour.”

And she drew the goloshes from his feet; then
the sleep of death was ended, and the awakened
man raised himself up. Care vanished, and with
her the goloshes disappeared too: doubtless she
looked upon them as her property.





THE SNOW QUEEN.

IN SEVEN STORIES.
FIRST sTORY.
_ Which treats of the Mirror and Fragments.

more than we do now, for he was a bad goblin.
He was one of the very worst, for he was a demon.

OOK you, now we’re going to begin. When
we are at the end of the story we shall know



One day he was in very good spirits, for he had
made a mirror which had this peculiarity, that
everything good and beautiful that was reflected
in it shrank together into almost nothing, but
that whatever was worthless and looked ugly be-
came prominent and looked worse thaneyer. The
most lovely landscapes seen in this mirror looked
like boiled spinach, and the best people became
hideous, or stood on their heads and had no bodies ;
their faces were so distorted as to be unrecognizable,
and a single freckle was shown spread out over nose
E2



52 The Snow Queen.

and mouth. That was very amusing, the demon
said. When good pious thoughts passed through
any person’s mind, these were again shown in the
mirror, so that the demon chuckled at his artistic
invention. Those who visited the goblin school
—for he kept a goblin school — declared every-
where that a wonder had been wrought; for now,
they asserted, one could see, for the first time, how
the world and the people in it really looked. Now
they wanted to fly up to heaven, to sneer and scoff
at the angels themselves. The higher they flew
with the mirror, the more it grinned; they could
scarcely hold it fast. They flew higher and higher,
and then the mirror trembled so terribly amid its
grinning that it fell down out of their hands to
the earth, where it was shattered into a hundred
million million and more fragments. And now
this mirror occasioned much more unhappiness
than before, for some of the fragments were
scarcely so large as a barleycorn, and these flew
about in the world, and whenever they flew into
any one’s eyes they stuck there, and those people
saw everything wrongly, or had only eyes for the
bad side of a thing, for every little fragment of the
mirror had retained the same power which the
whole glass possessed. A few persons even got a









j Niue

}



The magic Mirror.

fragment of the mirror into their hearts, and that
was terrible indeed, for such a heart became a
block of ice. A few fragments of the mirror were
so large that they were used as window-panes, but
it was a bad thing to look at one’s friends through
these panes ; other pieces were made into spectacles,
and then it went badly when people put on these
spectacles to see rightly and to be just; and then
the demon laughed till his paunch shook, for it
tickled him so. But without, some little fragments



54 The Snow Queen.

of glass still floated about in the air—and now we
shall hear.

SECOND STORY.
A Little Boy and a Little Girl.

In the great town where there are many houses
and so many people that there is not room enough
for every one to have a little garden, and where
consequently most persons are compelled to be con-
tent with some flowers in flower-pots, were two poor
children who possessed a garden somewhat larger
than a flower-pot. They were not brother and
sister, but they loved each other quite as much as
if they had been. Their parents lived just opposite
cach other in two garrets, there where the roof of
one neighbour’s house joined that of another; and
where the water-pipe ran between the two houses
was a little window ; one had only to step across
the pipe to get from one window to the other.

The parents of each child had a great box, in
which grew kitchen herbs that they used, and a
little rose bush ; there was one in each box, and
they grew famously. Now, it had occurred to the
parents to place the boxes across the pipe, so that
they reached from one window to the other, and



The Snow Queen. 55

looked quite like small embankments of flowers.
Pea plants hung down over the boxes, and the rose
bushes pushed forth long twigs, which clustered
round the windows and bent down towards each
other : it was almost like a triumphal arch of flowers
and leaves. As the boxes were very high, and the
children knew that they might not creep upon
them, they often obtained permission to step out
upon the roof behind the boxes, and to sit upon
their little stools under the roses, and there they
could play capitally.

In the winter there was an end of this amuse-
ment. ‘The windows were sometimes quite frozen
all over. But then they warmed copper shillings
on the stove, and held the warm coins against the
frozen pane, and this made a capital peep-hole, so
round, so round! and behind it gleamed a pretty
mild eye at each window; and these eyes belonged
to the little boy and the little girl. His name was
Kay and hers Gerda.

In the summer they could get to one another at
one bound ; but in the winter they had to go down
and up the long staircase, while the snow was
" pelting without.

‘ old grandmother.



56 The Snow Queen.

“«* Have they a Queen-bee ?”’ asked the little boy,
for he knew that there is one among the real bees.

“Yes, they have one,’
“She always flies where they swarm thickest. She

> replied grandmamma.

is the largest of them all, and never remains quiet
upon the earth; she flies up again into the black
cloud. Many a midnight she is flying through
the streets of the town, and looks in at the windows,
and then they freeze in such a strange way, and
look like flowers.”

“ Yes, I’ve seen that !”’ cried both the children ;
and now they knew that it was true.

“Can the Snow Queen come in here?” asked
the little girl.

“Only let her come,” cried the boy; “I7Il set
her upon the warm stove, and then she 71] melt.’

But grandmother smoothed his hair, and told
some other tales.

In the evening, when little Kay was at home
and half undressed, he clambered upon the chair
by the window, and looked through the little hole :
a few flakes of snow were falling outside, and one
of them, the largest of them all, remained lying
on the edge of one of the flower-boxes. The
snow-flake grew larger and larger, and at last be-
came a maiden clothed in the finest white gauze,



LY

we



Gerda and Kay.,

put together of millions of starry flakes. She was
beautiful and delicate, but of ice—of shining,
glittering ice. Yetshe was alive; her eyes flashed
like two clear stars, but there was no peace or rest



58 The Snow Queen.

in them. She nodded towards the window, and
beckoned with her hand. The little boy was fright-
ened, and sprang down from the chair; then it
seemed if a great bird flew by outside, in front of
the window.

Next day there was a clear frost, and then the
spring came; the sun shone, the green sprouted
forth, the swallows built nests, the windows were
opened, and the little children again sat in their
garden high up in the roof, over all the floors.

How splendidly the roses bloomed this summer !
And the little girl had learned a psalm, in which
mention was made of roses; and, in speaking of
roses, she thought of her own; and she sang it to
the little boy, and he sang, too,—

“The roses will fade and pass away,
But we the Christ-child shall see one day.”

And the little ones held each other by the hand,
kissed the roses, looked at God’s bright sunshine,
and spoke to it, as if the Christ-child were there.
What splendid summer days those were! How
beautiful it was without, among the fresh rose
bushes, which seemed as if they would never leave
off blooming ! .

Kay and Gerda sat and looked at the picture-



The Snow Queen. 59

book of beasts and birds. Then it was, while the
clock was just striking twelve on the church tower,
that Kay said,

“Oh! something struck my heart and pricked
mein the eye.”

The little girl fell upon his neck; he blinked
his eyes. No, there was nothing at all to be seen.

“T think it is gone,” said he.

But it was not gone. It was just one of those
glass fragments which sprang from the mirror—
the magic mirror that we remember well, the ugly
glass that made everything great and good which
was mirrored in it to seem small and mean, but in
which the mean and the wicked things were brought
out in relief, and every fault was noticeable at once.
Poor little Kay had also received a splinter just in
his heart, and that will now soon become like a
lump of ice. It did not hurt him now, but the
splinter was still there.

“Why doyoucry?”’ heasked. “ You look ugly
like that. There’s nothing the matter with me.
Oh, fie!”? he suddenly exclaimed, “that rose is
worm-eaten, and this one is quite crooked. After
all, they’re ugly roses. They ’re like the box in
which they stand.’ And then ‘he kicked the box
with his foot, and tore both the roses off.



60 The Snow Queen.

“Kay, what are you about?” cried the little
gil.

And when he noticed her fright he tore off
another rose, and then sprang in at his own win-
dow, away from pretty little Gerda.

When she afterwards camewith her picture-book,
he said it was only fit for babies in arms; and
when grandmother told stories, he always came in
with a but; and when he could manage it, he
would get behind her, put on a pair of spectacles,
and talk just as she did; he could do that very
cleverly, and the people laughed at him. Soon he
could mimic the speech and the gait of everybody
im the street. Everything that was peculiar or
ugly about him Kay could imitate; and people
said, “‘ That boy must certainly have a remarkable
head.” But it was the glass that stuck deep in
his heart ; so it happened that he even teased little
Gerda, who loved him with all her heart.

His games now became quite different from what
they had been before ; they became quite sensible.
One winter’s day when it snowed he came out with
a great burning-glass, held up the blue tail of his
coat, and let the snow-flakes fall upon it.

“Now look at the glass, Gerda,” said he.

And every flake of snow was magnified, and



The Snow Queen. 61

looked like a splendid flower, or a star with ten
points; it was beautiful to behold.

«See how clever that is,” said Kay. ‘“ That’s
much more interesting than real flowers, and there
is not a single fault in it,—they’re quite regular
until they begin to melt.”

Soon after Kay came in thick gloves, and with
his sledge upon his back. He called up to Gerda,
“Tve got leave to go into the great square where
the other boys play,’’ and he was gone.

In the great square the boldest among the boys
often tied their sledges to the country people’s
carts, and thus rode with them a good way. They
went capitally. When they were in the midst of
their playing there came a great sledge. It was
painted quite white, and in it sat somebody wrapped
in a rough white fur, and with a rough white cap
on his head. The sledge drove twice round the
square, and Kay bound his little sledge to it, and
so he drove on with it. It went faster and faster,
straight into the next street. The man who drove
turned round and nodded in a friendly way to Kay ;
it was as if they knew one another: each time
when Kay wanted to cast loose his little sledge,
the stranger nodded again, and then Kay remained
where he was, and thus they drove cut of the town



62 The Snow Queen.

gate. Then the snow began to fall so rapidly that
the boy could not see a hand’s breadth before him,
but still they drove on. Now he hastily dropped
the cord, so as to get loose from the great sledge,
but that was no use, for his sledge was fast bound to
the other, and now they went on like the wind.
Then he called out quite loudly, but nobody heard
him ; and the snow beat down, and the sledge flew
onward ; every now and then it gave a jump, and
they seemed to be flying over hedges and ditches.
The boy was quite frightened. He wanted to say
his prayers, but could remember nothing but the
multiplication table.

The snow-flakes became larger and larger, till at
last they looked like great white fowls. All at once
they sprang aside and the great sledge stopped, and
the person who had drivenit rose up. The fur and
the cap were made altogether of ice. It was a lady,
tall and slender, and brilliantly white; it was the
Snow Queen.

“ We have driven well!” said she. “ But why
do you tremble with cold? Creep into my warm
fur.”

And she seated him beside her in her own sledge,
and wrapped the fur round him, and he felt asif he
sank into a snow-drift.



The Snow Queen. 63

“ Are you still cold?” asked she, and then she
kissed him on the forehead.

Oh, that was colder than ice; it went quite
through to his heart, half of which was already a
lump of ice: he felt as if he were going to die;
but only for a moment; for then he seemed quite
well, and he did not notice the cold all about him.

“ My sledge! don’t forget my sledge.”

That was the first thing he thought of ; and it was
bound fast to one of the white chickens, and this
chicken fiew behind him with the sledge upon its
back. The Snow Queen kissed Kay again, and
then he had forgotton little Gerda, his grandmother,
and all at home.

“ Now you shall have no more kisses,” said she,
“for if you did I should kiss you to death.”

Kay looked at her. She was so beautiful, he
could not imagine a more sensible or lovely face;
she did not appear to him to be made of ice now as
before, when she sat at the window and beckoned
to him. In his eyes she was perfect ; he did not
feel at all afraid. He told her that he could do
mental arithmetic as far as fractions; that he
knew the number of square miles and the number
of inhabitants in the country. And she always
smiled, and then it seemed to him that what he



64 The Snow Queen.

knew was not enough, and he looked up into the
wide sky, and she flew with him high up upon the
black cloud, and the storm blew and whistled ; it
seemed as though the wind sang old songs. They
flew over woods and lakes, over sea and land : below
them roared the cold wind, the wolves howled, the
snow crackled ; over them flew the black screaming
crows ; but above all the moon shone bright and
clear, and Kay looked at the long, long winter
night ; by day he slept at the fect of the Queen.

THIRD STORY,

The Flower Garden of the Woman who could
Conjure.

Bur how did it fare with little Gerda when Kay
did not return? Whatcould have become of him?
No one knew, no one could give information. The
boys only told that they had seen him bind his
sledge to another very large one, which had driven
along the street and out at the town gate. Nobody
knew what had become of him ; many tears were
shed, and little Gerda especially wept long and
bitterly: then she said he was dead—he had been
drowned in the river which flowed close by their



The Snow Queen. 65

school. Oh, those were very dark long winter days !
But now spring came, with warmer sunshine.

“ Kay is dead and gone!” said little Gerda.

“T don’t believe it !”’ said the Sunshine.

“He is dead and gone!” she said to the Sparrows.

«We don’t believe it!” they replied.

And at last little Gerda did not believe it herself.

“J will put on my new red shoes,” she said
one morning,— those that Kay has never seen ;
and then I will go down to the river, and ask for
him.”

Tt was still very early ; she kissed the old grand-
mother, who was still asleep, put on her red shoes,
and went quite alone out of the town gate towards
the river.

Ts it true that you have taken away my little
playmate from me? Iwill give gon my red shoes
if you will give him back to me.’

And it seemed to her as if the waves nodded
quite strangely ; and then she took her red shoes,
that she hiked best of anything she possessed, and
threw them both into the river; but they fell close
to the shore, and the little wavelets carried them
back to her on the land. It seemed as if the river
would not take from her the dearest things she
possessed because he had not her little Kay; but

6 F



66 The Snow Queen.

she thought she had not thrown the shoes quite
far enough out; so she crept into a boat that lay
among the reeds ; she went to the other end of the
boat, and threw the shoes from thence into the
water; but the boat was not bound fast, and at
the movement she made, it glided away from the
shore. She noticed it, and hurried to get back,
but before she reached the other end the boat was
a yard from the bank, and it drifted away faster
than before.

Then little Gerda was very much frightened, and
began to cry; but no one heard her except the
Sparrows, and they could not carry her to land;
but they flew along by the shore, and sang, as if
to console her, ‘‘ Here we are! here weare!” The
boat drove on with the stream, and little Gerda sat
quite still, with only her stockings on her feet; her
little red shoes floated along behind her, but they
could not come up to the boat, for that made more
way.

It was very pretty on both shores: there were
beautiful flowers, old trees, and slopes with sheep
and cows ; but not one person was to be seen.

“< Perhaps the river will carry me to little Kay,”
thought Gerda.

And then she became more cheerful, and rose











Gerda and the strange Woman.

up, and for many hours she watched the charming
green banks; then she came to a great cherry
orchard, in which stood a little house with remark-
able blue and red windows; it had a thatched
roof, and without stood two wooden soldiers, who
presented arms to those who sailed past.

Gerda called to them, for she thought they were
alive; but of course they did not answer. She
came quite close to them; the river carried the
boat towards the shore,





68 The Snow Queen.

Gerda called still louder, and then there came out
of the house an old woman leaning on a crutch:
she had on a great velvet hat painted over with the
finest flowers.

“You poor little child!” said the old woman,
«how did you manage to come on the great rolling
river, and to float thus far out into the world ?”

And then the old woman went quite into the
water, seized the boat with her crutch-stick, drew
it to land, and lifted little Gerda out. And Gerda
was glad to be on the dry land again, though she
felt a little afraid of the strange old woman.

«Come and tell me who you are, and how you
came here,” said the old lady.

And Gerda told her everything; and the old
woman shook her head, and said “ Hem! hem !”
‘and when Gerda had told everything, and asked
if she had not seen little Kay, the woman said
that he had not yet come by, but that he pro-
bably would soon come. Gerda was not to be
sorrowful, but to look at the flowers and taste
the cherries, for they were better than any picture-
book, for each one of them could tell a story.
Then she took Gerda by the hand and led her
into the little house, and the old woman locked the

door.



The Snow Queen. 69

The windows were very high, and the panes were
red, blue, and yellow ; the daylight shone in a re-
markable way, with different colours. On the
table stood the finest cherries, and Gerda ate as
many of them as she liked, for she had leave to
do so. While she was eating them, the old lady
combed her hair with a golden comb, and the hair
hung in ringlets of pretty yellow round the friendly
little face, which looked as blooming as a rose.

“T have long wished for such a dear little girl
as you,” said the old lady. ‘Now you shall see
how well we shall live with one another.”

And as the ancient dame combed her hair, Gerda
forgot her adopted brother Kay more and more;
for this old woman could conjure, but she was not
a wicked witch. She only practised a little magic
for her own amusement, and wanted to keep little
Gerda. Therefore she went into the garden,
stretched out her crutch towards the rose bushes,
and, beautiful as they were, they all sank into the
earth, and one could not tell where they had stood.
The old woman was afraid that if the little girl
saw roses, she would think of her own, and re-
member little Kay, and‘run away.

Now Gerda was led out into the flower garden.
What fragrance was there, and what loveliness !



70 The Snow. Queen.

Every conceivable flower was there in full bloom ;
there were some for every season ; no picture-book
could be gayer and prettier. Gerda jumped high
for joy, and played till the sun went down behind
the high cherry trees; then she was put into a
lovely bed with red silk pillows stuffed with blue
violets ; and she slept there, and dreamed as glori-
ously as a Queen on her wedding-day.

Day after day she played with the nice flowers
in the warm sunshine; and thus many days went
by. Gerda knew every flower; but, as many as
there were of them, it still seemed to her as if one
were wanting, but which one she did not know.
One day she sat looking at the old lady’s hat with
the painted flowers, and the prettiest of them all
was arose. The old lady had forgotten to efface
it from her hat when she caused the others to dis-
appear. But soit is when one does not keep one’s
wits about one.

«What, are there no roses here ?” cried Gerda.

And she went among the beds, and searched and
searched, but there was not one to be found. Then
she sat down and wept: her tears fell just upon a
spot where a rose-bud lay buried, and when the
warm tears moistened the earth, the tree at once
sprouted up as blooming as when it had sunk ;



The Snow Queen. 71

and Gerda embraced it, and kissed the Roses, and
thought of the beautiful roses at home, and also
of little Kay.

“Oh, how I have been detained !”’ said the little
girl. “I wanted to seek for little Kay. Do you
not know where he is?” she asked the Roses: “ do
you think he is dead ?”’

“ He is not dead,” the Roses answered. ‘“ We
have been in the ground. All the dead people are
there, but Kay is not there.”

«Thank you,” said little Gerda; and she went
to the other flowers, looked into their cups, and
asked, ‘ Do you not know where little Kay is ?”

But every flower stood in the sun thinking only
of her own story or fancy tale: Gerda heard many,
many of them; but not one knew anything of
Kay.

And what did the Tiger-Lily say ?

“ Do you hear the drum ‘rub-dub!’ There are
only two notes, always ‘rub-dub !’ Hear the morn-
ing song of the women, hear the call of the priests.
The Hindoo widow stands in her long red mantle
on the funeral pile, the flames rise up around her
and her dead husband, but the Hindoo woman is
thinking of the living one here in the circle, of him
whose eyes burn hotter than flames, whose fiery



72 The Snow Queen.

glances have burned in her soul more ardently than
the flames themselves, which are soon to burn her
body to ashes. Can the flame of the heart die in
the flame of the funeral pile ?”

“T don’t understand that at all!” said little
Gerda.

«That ’s my story,” said the Lily.

What says the Convolvulus ?

“Over the narrow road looms an old knightly
castle: thickly the ivy grows over the crumbling
red walls, leaf by leaf up to the balcony, and
there stands a beautiful girl; she bends over the
balustrade and glances up the road. No rose on
its branch is fresher than she; no apple blossom
wafted onward by the wind floats more lightly
along. How her costly silks rustle! ‘Comes he
not yet ??”

“Ts it Kay whom you mean?” asked little
Gerda.

“I’m only speaking of a story—my dream,”
replied the Convolvulus.

What said the little Snowdrop ?

“« Between the trees a long board hangs by ropes.
That is aswing. Two pretty little girls, with clothes
white as snow, and long green silk ribbons on their
hats, are sitting upon it, swinging; their brother,



The Snow Queen. 43

who is greater than they, stands in the swing, and
has slung his arm round the rope to hold himself,
for in one hand he has a little saucer, and in the
other a clay pipe; he is blowing bubbles. The swing
flies, and the bubbles rise with beautiful changing
colours; the last still hangs from the pipe-bowl,
swaying in the wind. The swing flies on: the little
black dog, light as the bubbles, stands up on his
hind legs, and wants to be taken into the swing ;
it flies on; the dog falls, barks, and grows angry,
for he is teased ; and the bubble bursts. A swing-
ing board and a bursting bubble, that is my song.”

“It may be very pretty, what you’re telling,
but you speak it so mournfully, and you don’t
mention little Kay at all.”

What do the Hyacinths say ?

« There were three beautiful sisters, transparent
and delicate. The dress of one was red, that of the
second blue, and that of the third quite white:
hand in hand they danced by the calm lake in the
bright moonlight. They were not elves, they were
human beings. It was very sweet and fragrant
there. The girls disappeared in the forest, and the
sweet fragrance became stronger: three coffins,
with the three beautiful maidens lying in them,
glided from the wood-thicket across the lake ; the



a4. The Snow Queen.

glowworms flew gleaming about them like little
hovering lights. Are the dancing girls sleeping,
or are they dead? ‘The flower-scent says they are
dead, and the evening bell tolls their knell.”

«You make me quite sorrowful,” said little
Gerda. ‘‘ You scent so strongly, I cannot help
thinking of the dead maidens. Ah! is little Kay
really dead? ‘The roses have been down in the
earth, and they say no.”

“Kling-klang!”’ tolled the Hyacinth Bells; “we
are not tolling for little Kay—we don’t know him ;
we only sing our song, the only one we know.”

And Gerda went to the Buttercup, gleaming -
forth from the green leaves.

«You are a bright little sun,” said Gerda. “Tell
me if you know where I may find my companion.”

And the Buttercup shone very gaily, and looked
back at Gerda. What song might the Buttercup
sing? It was not about Kay.

“In a little courtyard the clear sun shone warm
on the first day of spring. The sunbeams glided
down the white wall of the neighbouring house ;
close by grew the first yellow flower, glancing like
gold in the bright sun’s ray. The old grandmother
sat out of doors in her chair; her granddaughter,
a poor handsome maid-servant, was coming home



The Snow Queen. 75

or a short visit: she kissed her old grandmother.

There was gold, heart’s gold, in that blessed kiss,
gold in the mouth, gold in the south, gold in the
morning hour. See, that’s my little story,” said
the Buttercup.

“My poor old grandmother !” sighed Gerda.
“ Yes, she is surely longing for me and grieving
for me, just as she did for little Kay. But I shall
soon go home and take Kay with me. There is no
use of my asking the flowers, they only know their
own song, and give me no information. And then
she tied her little frock round her, that she might
run the faster; but the Jonquil struck against her
leg as she sprang over it, and she stopped to look
at the tall yellow flower, and asked, “ Do you,
perhaps, know anything of little Kay ?”

And she bent quite down to the flower, and
what did it say?

“T can see myself! I can see myself!” said
the Jonquil. ‘‘Oh! oh! how I smell! Up in the
little room, in the gable, stands a little dancing
girl ; she stands sometimes on one foot, sometimes
on both ; she seems to tread on all the world. She’s
nothing but an ocular delusion: she pours water
out of a tea-pot on a bit of stuff—it is her boddice.
“Cleanliness is a fine thing,’ she says: her white



76. The Snow Queen.

frock hangs on a hook; it has been washed in the
tea-pot too, and dried on the roof: she puts it on,
and ties her saffron handkerchief round her neck,
‘and the dress looks all the whiter. Poimt your
toes! look how she seems to stand on a stalk. I
can see myself! I can see myself !”

“T don’t care at all about that,” said Gerda.
“You need not tell me that.”

And then she ran to the end of the garden.
The door was locked, but she pressed against the
rusty lock, and it broke off, the door sprang open,
and little Gerda ran with naked feet out into the
wide world. She looked back three times, but no
one was there to pursue her; at last she could run
no longer, and seated herself on a great stone, and
when she looked round the summer was over—
it was late in autumn: one could not notice that
in the beautiful garden, where there was always
sunshine, and the flowers of every season always
bloomed. ;

< Alas! how I have loitered !”’ said little Gerda.
« Autumn has come. I may not rest again.”

And she rose up to go on. Oh! how sore and
tired her little feet were. All around it looked
cold and bleak ; the long willow leaves were quite
yellow, and the dew fell down like water; one leaf



The Snow Queen. Pa,

after another dropped; only the sloe-thorn still
bore fruit, but the sloes were sour, and set the
teeth on edge. Oh! how grey and gloomy it
looked, the wide world!

FOURTH STORY.

The Prince and Princess.

GzERDA was compelled to rest again; then there
came hopping across the snow, just opposite the
spot where she was sitting, a great Crow. This
Crow stopped a long time to look at her, nodding
its head—now it said, “ Krah! krah! Good day!
good day !”” It could not pronounce better, but it
felt friendly towards the little girl, and asked where
she was going all alone im the wide world. The
word alone Gerda understood very well, and felt
how much it expressed, and she told the Crow the
whole story of her life and fortunes, and asked if
it had not seen Kay.

And the Crow nodded very gravely, and said,

«That may be ! that may be!”

“ What, do you think so?” cried the little girl,
and nearly pressed the Crow to death, she kissed it
so delightedly.



48 The Snow Queen.

“ Gently, gently !” said'the Crow. “I think I
know; I believe it may be little Kay, but he has
certainly forgotten you, with the Princess.”

“ Does he live with a Princess ?”” asked Gerda.

“ Yes; listen,” said the Crow. “ Butit’s so diffi-
cult for me to speak your language. If you know
the crows’ language, I can tell it much better.”

“No, I never learned it,” said Gerda; “ but
my grandmother understood it, and could speak
the language too. I only wish I had learned it.”

“That doesn’t matter,’ said the Crow. “ But
it will go badly.”

And then the Crow told what it knew.

“In the country in which we are now lives a
Princess who is quite wonderfully clever, but then
she has read all the newspapers in the world, and
has forgotten them again, she’s so clever. Lately
she was sitting on the throne—and that’s not so
pleasant as is generally supposed—and she began
to sing a song, and it was just this, ‘Why should
I not marry yet?’ You sce, there was something
in that,” said the Crow. “ And so she wanted to .
marry, but she wished for a husband who could
answer when he was spoken to, not one who only
stood and looked handsome, for that was weari-
some. Now she had all her maids of honour sum-











Gerda and the Crow.

moned, and when they heard her intention they
were very glad. ‘TJ like that, said they ; ‘I thought
the very thing the other day.’ You may be sure
that every word I’m telling you is true,” added
the Crow. ‘TI have a tame sweetheart who goes
about freely in the castle, and she told me every-
thing.”

Of course the sweetheart was a crow, for one
crow always finds out another, and birds of a
feather flock together.



80 The Snow Queen.

«Newspapers were published directly, with a
border of hearts and the Princess’s initials. One
could read in them that every young man who was
good looking might come to the castle and speak
with the Princess, and him who spoke so that one
could hear he was at home there, and who spoke
best, the Princess would choose for her husband.
Yes, yes,” said the Crow, “you may believe me.
It’s as true as I sit here. Young men came flock-
ing in ; there was a great crowding and much run-
ing to and fro, but no one succeeded the first or
second day. ‘They could all speak well when they _
were out in the streets, but when they entered at
the palace gates, and saw the guards standing in
their silver lace, and went up the staircase, and
saw the lackeys in their golden liveries, and the
great lighted halls, they became confused. And
when they stood before the throne itself, on which
the Princess sat, they could do nothing but repeat
the last word she had spoken, and she did not care
to hear her own words again. It was just as if the
people in there had taken some narcotic and fallen
asleep till they got into the street again, for not
till then were they able to speak. There stood a
whole row of them, from the town gate to the
palace gate. I went out myself to see it,” said



The Snow Queen. 81

the Crow. “ They were hungry and thirsty, but in
the palace they did not receive so much as a glass
of lukewarm water. A few of the wisest had
brought bread and butter with them, but they
would not share with their neighbours, for they
thought, ‘ Let him look hungry, and the Princess
won’t have him.’”

“ But Kay, little Kay ?” asked Gerda. “ When
did he come? Was he among the crowd ?”

“Wait, wait! We’re just coming to him. It
was on the third day that there came a little per-
sonage, without horse or carriage, walking quite
merrily up to the castle; his eyes sparkled like
yours, he had fine long hair, but his clothes were
shabby.”

“That was Kay!” cried Gerda, rejoicingly.
«Oh, then I have found him!” And she clapped
her hands.

“He had a little knapsack on his back,’ ob-
served the Crow.

“ No, that must certainly have been his sledge,”
said Gerda, “ for he went away with a sledge.’ .

«That may well be,” said the Crow, “for I did
not look to it very closely. But this much I know
from my tame sweetheart, that when he passed
under the palace gate and saw the Life Guards in

6 G



82 The Snow Queen.

silver, and mounted the staircase and saw all the
lackeys in gold, he was not in the least embar-
rassed. He nodded, and said to them, ‘ It must
be tedious work standing on the stairs—I 7d rather
go inside.’ The halls shone full of lights; Privy
Councillors and Excellencies walked about with
bare feet and carried golden vessels; any one
might have become solemn ; and his boots creaked
most noisily,,but he was not embarrassed.”

“That is certainly Kay!’ cried Gerda. “ He
had new boots on; I’ve heard them creak in
grandmother’s room.”

< Yes, certainly they creaked,’ resumed the
Crow. ‘And he went boldly in to the Princess
herself, who sat on a pearl that was as big as a
spinning-wheel ; and all the maids of honour with
their attendants and their attendants’ attendants,
and all the cavaliers with their followers, and the
followers of their followers, who themselves kept a
page apiece, were standing round ; and the nearer
they stood to the door, the prouder they looked.
The followers’ followers’ pages, who always went
in slippers, could hardly be looked at, so proudly
they stood in the doorway !”

«That must be terrible!” faltered little Gerda.
«And yet Kay won the Princess ?”



The Snow Queen. 83

“Tf I had not been born a crow, I would have
married her myself, notwithstanding that I am en-
gaged. They say he spoke as well as I can when
I speak the crows’ language; I heard that from
my tame sweetheart. He was merry and agrec-
able; he had not come to marry, but only to hear
the wisdom of the Princess; and he approved of
her, and she of him.”

“Yes, certainly that was Kay!’ said Gerda.
“¢ He was so clever, he could do mental arithmetic
up to fractions. Oh! won’t you lead me to the
castle too ?”

“That ’s easily said,” replied the Crow; “but -
how are we to manage it? I7Il talk it over with
my tame sweetheart; she can probably advise us :
for this I must tell you—a little girl like yourself
will never get leave to go completely in.”

“Yes, I shall get leave,” said Gerda. “ When
Kay hears that I’m there, he ’ll come out directly
and bring me in.”

“Wait for me yonder at the grating,” said the
Crow; and he wagged his head and flew away.

It was already late in the evening before the
Crow came back.

“Rax! rax!” he said. “I’m to greet you
‘Kindly from my sweetheart, and here’s a little

G2



84 The Snow Queen.

loaf for you. She took it from the kitchen. There’s
plenty of bread there, and you must be hungry.
You can’t possibly get into the palace, for you are
barefoot, and the guards in silver and the lackeys
in gold would not allow it. But don’t cry; you
shall go up. My sweetheart knows a little back
staircase that leads up to the bed-room, and she
knows where she can get the key.”

And they went into the garden, into the great
avenue where one leaf was falling down after an-
other; and when the lights were extinguished in
the palace one after the other, the Crow led Gerda
to a back door, which stood ajar.

Oh, how Gerda’s heart beat with fear and long-
ing! It was just as if she had been going to do
something wicked ; and yet she only wanted to
know if it was little Kay. Yes, it must be he;
she thought so deeply of his clear eyes and his
long hair, she could fancy she saw how he smiled
as he had smiled at home when they sat among
the roses. He would certainly be glad to see her ;
to hear what a long distance she had come for his
sake ; to know how sorry they had all been at home
when he did not come back. Oh, what a fear and
what a joy that was!

_ Now they were on the staircase. A little lamp



The Snow Queen. 85

was burning upon a cupboard; in the middle of
the floor stood the tame Crow, turning her head on
every side and looking at Gerda, who courtesied as
her grandmother had taught her to do.

«My betrothed has spoken to me very favour-
ably of you, my little lady,” said the tame Crow.
«Your history, as it may be called, is very moving.
Will you take the lamp? then I will precede you.
We will go the straight way, and then we shall
meet nobody.”

“T feel as if some one were coming after us,”
said Gerda, as something rushed past her: “it
seemed like a shadow on the wall; horses with
flying manes and thin legs, hunter: s; and ladies and
gentlemen on horseback.”

«These are only dreams,” said the Crow; “ they
are come to carry the high-born masters’ thoughts
out hunting. That’s all the better, for you may
look at them the more closelyin bed. But I hope
when you are taken into favour and get promotion
you will show a grateful heart.”

“Of that we may be sure,” observed the Crow
from the wood.

Now they came into the first hall: it was hung
with rose-coloured satin, and artificial flowers were
worked on the walls; and here the dreams came



86 The Snow Queen.

already flitting by them, but they moved so quickly
that Gerda could not see the high-born lords and
ladies. Each hall was more magnificent than the
last; yes, one could almost become bewildered !
Now they were in the bed-chamber. Here the
ceiling was like a great palm tree with leaves of
glass, of costly glass, and in the middle of the floor
two. beds hung on a thick stalk of gold, and each
of them looked like a lily. One of them was white,
and in that lay the Princess ; the other was red,
and in that Gerda was to seek little Kay. She
bent one of the red leaves aside, and then she saw
a little brown neck. Oh, that was Kay! She
called out his name quite loud, and held the lamp
towards him. “The dreams rushed into the room
again on horseback—he awoke, turned his head,
and—ait was not little Kay !

The Prince was only like him in the neck, -but
he was young and good looking; and the Princess
looked up, blinking, from the white lily, and asked
who was there. Then little Gerda wept, and told
her whole history, and all that the Crows had done
for her.

“You poor child,” said the Prince and Princess.

And they praised the Crows, and said that they
were not angry with them at all, but the Crows



The Snow Queen. 87

were not to do it again. However, they should
be rewarded.

“Will you fly out free,” asked the Princess,
“or will you have fixed positions as court crows,
with the right to everything that is left in the
kitchen ?”

And the two Crows bowed, and begged for fixed
positions, for they thought of their old age, and
said, “It is so good to have some provisions for
one’s old days,” as they called them.

And the Prince got up out of his bed, and let:
Gerda sleep in it, and he could not do more than
that. She folded her little hands, and thought,
“ How good men and animals are !”? and then she
shut her eyes and went quietly to sleep. All the
dreams came flying in again, looking like angels ;
and they drew a little sledge, on which Kay sat
nodding ; but all this was only a dream, and there-
fore it was gone again as soon as she awoke.

The next day she was clothed from head to foot
in velvet, and an offer was made to her that she
should stay in the castle and enjoy pleasant times ;
but she only begged for a little carriage, with a
horse to draw it, and a pair of little boots; then she
would drive out into the world and seek for Kay.

And she received not only boots, but a muff



88 The Snow Queen.

likewise, and she was neatly dressed; and when
she was ready to depart, a coach made of pure gold
stopped before the door. Upon it shone like a
star the coat of arms of the Prince and Princess ;
coachmen, footmen, and outriders (for there were
outriders too) sat on horseback with gold crowns
on their heads. The Prince and Princess them-
selves helped her into the carriage, and wished her
all good fortune. The forest Crow, who was now
married, accompanied her the first three miles;
he sat by Gerda’s side, for he could not bear riding
backwards. The other Crow stood in the door-
way flapping her wings; she did not go with them,
for she suffered from headache, that had come on
since she had obtained a fixed position and was
allowed to eat too much. The coach was lined
with sugar-biscuits, and in the seat there were
gingerbread-nuts and fruit.

“Farewell! farewell!’ cried the Prince and
Princess.

And little Gerda wept, and the Crow wept. So
they went on for the first three miles, and then
the Crow said good bye, and that was the heaviest
parting of all. The Crow flew up on a tree, and
beat his black wings as long as he could see the
coach, which glittered like the bright sunshine.



The Snow Queen. 89

FIFTH STORY.
The Little Robber Girl.

Tury drove on through the thick forest; but
the coach gleamed like a torch, that dazzled the
robbers’ eyes, and they could not bear it.

“That is gold! that is gold!” cried they, and
rushed forward and seized the horses, killed the
postillions, the coachman, and the footmen, and
then pulled little Gerda out of the carriage.

“ She is fat, she is pretty, she is fed with nut-
kernels,” said the old robber woman, who had a
very long matted beard and shaggy eyebrows that
hung down over her eyes. ‘“ She’s as good as a
little pet lamb; how I shall relish her !”’

And she drew out her shining knife, that gleamed
in a horrible way.

Oh!” screamed the old woman at the same
moment, for her own daughter, who hung at her
back, bit her ear in a very naughty and spiteful
manner. ‘You ugly brat!’ screamed the old
woman; and she had not time to kill Gerda.

“She shall play with me,” said the little robber
girl. “ She shall give me her muff and her pretty
dress, and sleep with me in my bed.”



go The Snow Queen.

And then the girl gave another bite, so that the
woman jumped high up and turned right round.
And all the robbers laughed, and said,

“ Look how she dances with her calf.”

“I want to go into the carriage,” said the little
robber girl.

And she would have her own way, for she was
spoiled and very obstinate ; and she and Gerda sat
in the carriage, and drove over stock and stone
deep into the forest. The little robber girl was as
big as Gerda, but stronger and more broad shoul-
dered; and she had a brown skin; her eyes were
quite black, and they looked almost mournful.
She clasped little Gerda round the waist, and said,

“They shall not kill you as long as I am not
angry with you. I suppose you are a Princess ?”’

“No,” replied Gerda.

And she told all that had happened to her, and
how fond she was of little Kay.

The robber girl looked at her quite seriously,
nodded slightly, and said,

“They shall not kill you even if I do get angry
with you, for then I will do it myself.’

And then she dried Gerda’s eyes, and put her
two hands into the beautiful muff that was so soft
and warm.



The Snow Queen. gI

Now the coach stopped, and they were in the
courtyard of a robber castle. It had burst from
the top to the ground; ravens and crows flew out
of the great holes; and big bulldogs —each of
which looked as if he could devour a man— .
jumped high up, but they did not bark, for that
was forbidden.

In the great old smoky hall a bright fire was.
burning upon the stone floor; the smoke passed
along under the ceiling, and had to seek an exit
for itself. A great cauldron of soup was boiling,
and hares and rabbits were roasting on the spit.

“You shall sleep to-night with me and all my
little animals,” said the robber gitl.

They got something to eat and drink, and then
went to a corner, where straw and carpets were
spread out. Above these sat on laths and perchcs
more than a hundred pigeons: they all seemed
asleep, but they turned slightly when the two little
girls came.

« All these belong to me,” said the little robber
girl; and she quickly seized one of the nearest,
held it by the feet, and shook it so that it flapped
its wings. “ Kiss it,” she cried, and beat it in
Gerda’s face. ‘There sit the wood rascals,” she
continued, pointing to a number of laths that had



a The Snow Queen.

been nailed in front of a hole in the wall. ‘Those
are wood rascals, those two; they fly away directly
if one does not keep them well locked up; and
here’s my old sweetheart ‘Ba.’”? And she pulled
- out by the horn a Reindeer, that was tied up and
had a polished copper ring round its neck. “‘ We’re
obliged to keep him tight too, or he’d run away
from us. Every morning I tickle his neck with a
sharp knife, and he’s very frightened at that.”

And the little girl drew a long knife from a cleft
in the wall and let it glide over the Reindeer’s neck.
The poor creature kicked out its legs, and the little
robber girl laughed, and drew Gerda into bed with
her.

“Do you keep the knife while you’re asleep?”
asked Gerda, and looked at it in rather a frightened
way.

“T always sleep with my knife,” replied the
little robber girl. ‘One does not know what may
happen. But now tell me again what you told me
just now about little Kay, and why you came out
mto the wide world ?”

And Gerda told it again from the beginning, and
the Wood Pigeons cooed above them in their cage,
and the other pigeons slept. The little robber girl
put her arm round Gerda’s neck, held her knife



The Snow Queen. 93

in the other hand, and slept so that one could hear
her; but Gerda could not close her eyes at all; she
did not know whether she was to live or to die.
The robbers sat round the fire, sang and drank,
and the old robber woman tumbled about. It was
quite terrible for a little girl to behold.

Then the Wood Pigeons said,

“Coo! coo! we have seen little Kay. A white —
owl was carrying his sledge: he sat in the Snow
Queen’s carriage, which drove close by the forest
as we lay in our warm nests. She blew upon us
young pigeons, and all died except us two. Coo!
coo!”

“What are you saying there?” asked Gerda.
“ Whither was the Snow Queen travelling? Do
you know anything about it ?””

“She was probably journeying to Lapland, for
there they always have ice and snow. Ask the
Reindeer that is tied to the cord.”

“« There is ice and snow yonder, and it is glorious
and fine,” said the Remdeer. ‘“‘' There one may
run about free in great glittering plains. There
the Snow Queen has her summer tent; but her
strong castle is up towards the North Pole, on the
island that’s called Spitzbergen.”

“Oh, Kay, little Kay!” cried Gerda.



Full Text







The Baldwin Library
University

RNB vite









The Councillor and the Picture.
The Goloshes of Fortune.




THE

GOLOSHES or FORTUNE

AND OTHER STORIES.

BY

HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN.

TRANSLATED BY

H. W. DULCKEN, Pu.D.

ILLUSTRATED WITH MANY PICTURES.



LONDON:
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS,
BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL.




2


THE GOLOSHES OF FORTUNE

THE SNOW QUEEN. .

THE NEIGHBOURING FAMILIES

FIVE OUT OF ONE SHELL .

THE BUCKWHEAT

THE ROSE-ELF . .



PAGE

130
(37
141
ADVERTISEMENT.

Tue Stories and Tales of Hans C. ANDERSEN
have established their position as standard works
for young people, therefore it is thought that the
present plan of publishing them in the form of a
Library will be acceptable.

In selecting the Stories for the separate Books,
care has been taken to combine the “ grave and
gay,” thus giving each Volume a varied interest.
The more simple Stories have been taken for the
-earlier Volumes, and thus the reader, gradually
progressing, will find the most advanced in the
concluding Volumes, each Book being complete

in. itself,


THE GOLOSHES OF FORTUNE.
J Ie

A Beginning.

3g|N a house in Copenhagen, not far from
the King’s New Market, a company
—a very large company—had assem-
bled, having received invitations to
an evening party there. One-half of the company
already sat at the card tables, and the other half
awaited the result of the hostess’s question, ““ What
shall we do now?” They had progressed ‘so far,
and the entertainment began to take some degree
of animation. Among other subjects the conver-
sation turned upon the Middle Ages. Some con-
sidered that period much more interesting than
our own times: yes, Councillor Knap defended this



view so zealously that the lady of the house went

over at once to his side; and both loudly exclaimed

against Oersted’s treatise in the Almanac on old
6 B
2 The Goloshes of Fortune.

and modern times, in which the chief advantage is
given to our own day. The councillor considered
the times of the Danish King Hans as the noblest
and happiest age.

While the conversation takes this turn, only in-
terrupted for a moment by the arrival of a news-
paper, which contained nothing worth reading, we
will betake ourselves to the ante-chamber, where
the cloaks, sticks, and goloshes had found a place.
Here sat two maids—an old one and a young one.
One would have thought they had come to escort
their mistresses home; but, on looking at them
more closely, the observer could see that they were
not ordinary servants : their shapes were too grace-
ful for that, their complexions too delicate, and the
cut of their dresses too uncommon. They were
two fairies. The younger was not Fortune, but
lady’s-maid to one of her ladies of the bed-chamber,
who carry about the more trifling gifts of Fortune.
The elder one looked somewhat more gloomy—she
was Care, who always goes herself in her own
exalted person to perform her business, for thus
she knows that it is well done.

They were telling each other where they had
been that day. The messenger of Fortune had
only transacted a few unimportant affairs, as, for






The Goloshes left at the door.

instance, she had preserved a new bonnet from a
shower of rain, had procured an honest man a bow
from a titled Nobody, and so on; but what she
had still to relate was something quite extraor-
dinary.

«T can likewise tell,” said she, “that to-day is
my birthday ; and in honour of it a pair of goloshes
has been entrusted to me, which I am to bring to
the human race. These goloshes have the property
that every one who puts them on is at once trans-
ported to the time and place in which he likes best
to be—every wish in reference to time, place, and

B2


4 The Goloshes of Fortune.

circumstance is at once fulfilled; and so for once
man can be happy here below!”

“ Believe me,” said Care, “ he will be very un-
happy, and will bless the moment when he can get
rid of the goloshes again.”

«What are you thinking of?” retorted the
other. “ Now I shall put them at the door. Some-
body will take them by mistake, and become the
happy one!”

You see, that was the dialogue they held.

II.
What happened to the Councillor.

Ir was late. Councillor Knap, lost in contem-
plation of the times of King Hans, wished to get
home; and fate willed that instead of his own
goloshes he should put on those of Fortune, and
thus went out into East Street. But by the power
of the goloshes he had been put back three hun-
dred years—into the days of King Hans; and
therefore he put his foot into mud and mire in the
street, because in those days there was not any
pavement,

“ Why, this is horrible—how dirty it is here!”
The Goloshes of Fortune. 5

said the councillor. ‘The good pavement is gone,
and all the lamps are put out.”

The moon did not yet stand high enough to give
much light, and the air was tolerably thick, so
that all objects seemed to melt together in the
darkness. At the next corner a lamp hung before
a picture of the Madonna, but the light it gave
was as good as none; he only noticed it when he
stood just under it, and his eyes fell upon the
painted figure.

“That is probably a museum of art,’ thought
he, ‘‘ where they haye forgotten to take down the
sign.”

“ Tow queer they look! they must have come
from a masquerade,” he said, as a couple of men in
the costume of those past days went by him.

Suddenly there was a sound of drums and fifes,
and torches gleamed brightly. The councillor
started. And now he saw a strange procession go
past. First came a whole. troop of drummers,
beating their instruments very dexterously ; they
were followed by men-at-arms, with longbows and
crossbows. The chief man in the procession was
a clerical lord. The astonished councillor asked
what was the meaning of this, and who the man
might be.
6 The Goloshes of Fortune.

«That is the Bishop of Zealand.”

“What in the world has come to the bishop? ”
said the councillor, with a sigh, shaking his head.
“This could not possibly be the bishop ! ”

Ruminating on this, and without looking to the
right or to the left, the councillor went through
the East Street, and over the Highbridge Place.
The bridge which led to the Palace Square was
not to be found; he perceived the shore of a shal-
low water, and at length encountered two people,
who sat in a boat.

“Do you wish to be ferried over to the Holm,
sir?” they asked.

“To the Holm!” repeated the councillor, who
did not know, you see, in what period he was. “I
want to go to Christian’s Haven and to Little Turf
Bereet:”

The men stared at him.

“Pray tell me where the bridge is,” said he.
‘* Tt is shameful that no lanterns are lighted here ;
and it is as muddy, too, as if one were walking in
a marsh.” But the longer he talked with the
boatmen the less could he understand them. ‘I
don’t understand your Bornholm talk,” he at last
cried, angrily, and turned his back upon them.
He could not find the bridge, nor was there any
The Goloshes of Fortune. 4

paling. “‘It is quite scandalous how things look
here!” he said—never had he thought his own
times so miserable as this evening. “TI think it
will be best if I take a cab,” thought he. But
where were the cabs ?—not one was to be seen. “I
shall have to go back to the King’s New Market,
where there are many carriages standing, other-
wise I shall never get as far as Christian’s Haven.”

Now he walked towards East Street, and had
almost gone through it when the moon burst forth.

“What in the world have they been erecting

here?” he exclaimed, when he saw the East Gate,
which in those days stood at the end of East
Street.
In the meantime, however, he found a passage
open, and through this he came out upon our New
Market; but it was a broad meadow. Single
bushes stood forth, and across the meadow ran a
great canal or stream. booths for Dutch skippers were erected on the
opposite shore.

“Wither I behold a Fata Morgana, or I am
tipsy,” sighed the councillor. ‘“ What can that
‘be? what can that be?”

He turned back, in the full persuasion that he
must be ill. In walking up the street he looked
8 The Goloshes of Fortune.

more closely at the houses; most of them were
built of laths, and many were only thatched with
straw.

“No, I don’t feel well at all!” he lamented.
“ And yet I only drank one glass of punch! But
I cannot stand that; and besides, it was very
foolish to give us punch and warm salmon. I shall
mention that to our hostess—the agent’s lady.
Suppose I go back, and say how I feel? But that
looks ridiculous, and it is a question if they will
be up still.”

He looked for the house, but could not find it.

“That is dreadful!’ he cried; “I don’t know
East Street again. Not one shop is to be seen;
old, miserable, tumble-down huts are all I see, as
if I were at Roeskilde or Ringstedt. .Oh, I am
ill! It’s no use to make ceremony. But where
in all the world is the agent’s house? It is no
longer the same; but within there are people up
still. I certainly must be ill!”

He now reached a half-open door, where the
light shone through a chink. It was a tavern of
that date—a kind of beer-house. The room had
the appearance of a Dutch wine shop; a number
. of people, consisting of seamen, citizens of Copen-
hagen, and a few scholars, sat in deep conversation
OAL EAL

The Goloshes of Fortune. 9

over their jugs, and paid little attention to the
new comer.

“T beg your pardon,” said the councillor to the
hostess, “but I feel very unwell; would you let
somebody get a fly to take me home to Christian’s
Haven?”

The woman looked at him and shook her head ;
then she spoke to him in German.

The councillor now supposed that she did not
understand Danish, so he repeated his wish in the
German language. This, and his costume, con-
vinced the woman that he was a foreigner. She
soon understood that he felt unwell, and therefore
brought him a jug of water. It certainly tasted a.
little of sea water, though it had been taken from
the spring outside.

The councillor leaned his head upon his hand,
drew a deep breath, and thought of all the strange
things that were happening about him.

“Ts that to-day’s number of the ‘Day’?” he
said, quite mechanically, for he saw that the woman
was putting away a large sheet of paper.

She did not uhderstand what he meant, but.
handed him the leaf: it was a woodcut representing
a strange appearance in the air which had been
seen in the city of Cologne.
10 The Goloshes of Fortune.

“That is very old!” said the councillor, who
became quite cheerful at sight of this antiquity.
“How did you come by this strange leaf? That
is very interesting, although the whole thing is a
fable. Now-a-days, these appearances are ex-
plained to be Northern Lights that have been seen;
probably they arise from electricity.”

Those who sat nearest to him and heard his
speech, looked at him in surprise, and one of them
rose, took off his hat respectfully, and said, with a
very grave face,

“You must certainly be a very learned man.”

“Oh, no!” replied the councillor ; “I can only
say a word or two about things that one ought to
understand.””

“« Modestia is a beautiful virtue,” said the man.
“ Moreover, I must say to your speech, ‘ mihi secus
videtur,’ yet I will gladly suspend my judicium.”

“May I ask with whom I have the pleasure of
speaking?” asked the councillor.

“T am a bachelor of theology,” replied the man.

This answer sufficed for the councillor; the title
corresponded with the garb.

“ Certainly,” he thought, “this must be an old
village schoolmaster, a queer character, such as
one finds sometimes over in Jutland.”
















or













The Councillor is alarmed.

“This is certainly not a locus docendi,’ began
the man; “but I beg to trouble you to speak.
You are doubtless well read in the ancients ? ””

«Oh, yes,” replied the councillor. ‘I am fond
12 The Goloshes of Fortune.

of reading useful old books; and am fond of the
modern ones, too, with the exception of the ‘Every-
day Stories,’ of which we have had enough, in all
conscience.”

“Eyery-day Stories?” said the bachelor, in-
quiringly. :

“Yes, I mean the new romances we have now.”

“Oh!” said the man, with a smile, “they are
very witty, and are much read at court. The King
is especially partial to the romance by Messieurs
Tffven and Gaudian, which talks about King
Arthur and his knights of the Round Table. He
has jested about it with his noble lords.”

“That I have certainly not yet read,” said the
councillor: “that must be quite a new book pub-
lished by Heiberg.”

“No,” retorted the man, “it is not published
by Heiberg, but by Godfrey von Gehmen.” *

“Indeed! is he the author?” asked the coun-
cillor. “That is a very old name: was not that
the name of about the first printer who appeared
in Denmark?”

“‘ Why, he is our first printer,” replied the man.

* The first printer and publisher in Denmark, under King
Hans. %
The Goloshes of Fortune. 13

So far it had gone well. But now one of the
men began to speak of a pestilence which he said
had been raging a few years ago: he meant the
plague of 1484. The councillor supposed that he
meant the cholera, and so the conversation went
on tolerably. The Freebooters’ War of 1490 was
so recent that it could not escape mention. The
English had taken ships from the very wharves,
said the man; and the councillor, who was well
acquainted with the events of 1801, joined in man-
fully against the English. The rest of the talk,
however, did not pass over so well; every moment
there was a contradiction. The good bachelor was
terribly ignorant, and the simplest assertion of the
councillor seemed too bold or too fantastic. They
looked at each other, and when it became too bad,
the bachelor spoke Latin, in the hope that he
would be better understood; but it was of no use.

“ How are you now?” asked the hostess, and
she plucked the councillor by the sleeve.

Now his recollection came back: in the course
of the conversation he had forgotten everything
that had happened.

“Good heavens! where am I?” he said, and he
felt dizzy when he thought of it.

*« We7ll drink claret, mead, and Bremen beer,”
14 The Goloshes of Fortune.

cried one of the guests, “and you shall drink with
us.”

Two girls came in. One of them had on a cap
of two colours. They poured out drink and bowed:
the councillor felt a cold shudder running all down
his back. “What’s that? what’s that?” he
cried; but he was obliged to drink with them.
They took possession of the good man quite po-
litely. He was in despair, and when one said that
he was tipsy he felt not the slightest doubt re-
garding the truth of the statement, and only
begged them to procure him a droschky. Now
they thought he was speaking Muscovite. Never
had he been in such rude vulgar company.

«One would think the country was falling back
into heathenism,’’ was his reflection. ‘This is
the most terrible moment of my life.”

_ But at the same time the idea occurred to him
to bend down under the table, and then to creep
out at the door. He did so; but just as he had
reached the entry the others discovered his inten-
tion. They seized him by the feet; and now the
goloshes, to his great good fortune, came off, and
—the whole enchantment vanished.

The councillor saw quite plainly, in front of
him, a lamp burning, and behind it a great build-
The Goloshes of Fortune. 15

ing; everything looked familiar and splendid. It
was Hast Street, as we know it now. He lay with
his legs turned towards a porch, and opposite to
him sat the watchman asleep.

“ Good gracious! have I been lying here in the
street dreaming?” he exclaimed. ‘‘ Yes, this is
East Street sure enough! how splendidly bright
and gay! It is terrible what an effect that one
glass of punch must have had-on me!”

Two minutes afterwards he was sitting in a fly,
which drove him out to Christian’s Haven. He
thought of the terror and anxiety he had under-
gone, and praised from his heart the happy present,
our own time, which, with all its shortcomings,
was far better than the period in which he had
been placed a short time before.

iif.

The Watchman’s Adventures.

“On my word, yonder lies a pair a goloshes!”

said the watchman. “They must certainly belong
to the lieutenant who lives up stairs. They are
lying close to the door.”

The honest man would gladly have rung the
16 The Goloshes of Fortune.

bell and delivered them, for up stairs there was a
light still burning; but he did not wish to disturb
the other people in the house, and so he let it
alone.

“Tt must be very warm to have a pair of such
things on,” said he. ‘ How nice and soft the
leather is!””? They fitted his feet very well. ““ How
droll it is im the world! Now, he might lie down
in his warm bed, and yet he does not! ‘There he
is pacing up and down the room. He is a happy
man! He has neither wife nor children, and every
evening he is at a party. Oh, I wish I were he,
then I should be a happy man!”

As he uttered the wish, the goloshes he had put
on produced their effect, and the watchman was
transported into the body and being of the lieu-
tenant. Then he stood up in the room, and held
a little pink paper in his fingers, on which was a
poem, a poem written by the lieutenant himself.
For who is there who has not once i his life had
a poetic moment? and at such a moment, if one
writes down one’s thoughts, there is poetry.

Yes, people write poetry when they are in love;
but a prudent man does not print such poenis.
The lieutenant was in love—and poor—that’s a
triangle, or, so to speak, the half of a broken
The Goloshes of Fortune. 17

square of happiness. The lieutenant felt that very
keenly, and so he laid his head against the window-
frame, and sighed a deep sigh.

«The poor watchman in the street yonder is far
happier than I. He does not know what I call



















The Watchman thinks of going to the Moon.

want. He has a home, a wife, and children, who
weep at his sorrow and rejoice at his joy. Oh! TI
should be happier than I am, could I change my
being for his, and pass through life with his hum-
ble desires and hopes. Yes, he is happier than I!”

In that same moment the watchman became a
watchman again; for through the power of the

6 c
18 The Goloshes of Fortune.

goloshes of Fortune he had assumed the personality
of the lieutenant; but then we know he felt far
less content, and preferred to be just what he had
despised a short time before. So the watchman
became a watchman again.

«That was an ugly dream,” said he, “ but droll
enough. It seemed to me that I was the lieu-
tenant up yonder, and that it was not pleasant at
all. I was without the wife and the boys, who are
now ready to half stifle me with kisses.”

He sat down again and nodded. The dream
would not go quite out of his thoughts. He had
the goloshes still on his feet. A falling star glided
down along the horizon.

«There went one,” said he, “ but for all that,
there are enough left. I should like to look at
those things a little nearer, especially the moon,
for that won’t vanish under one’s hands. The
student for whom my wife washes says that when
we die we fly from one star to another. That’s
not true, but it would be very nice. If I codld
only make a little spring up there, then my body
might lie here on the stairs for all I care.”

Now there are certain assertions we should be
very cautious of making in this world, but doubly
careful when we have goloshes of Fortune on.
The Goloshes of Fortune. 19

Just hear what happened to the watchman.

So far as we are concerned, we all understand
the rapidity of dispatch by steam; we have tried
it either in railways, or in steamers across the sea.
But this speed is as the crawling of the sloth or
the march of the snail in comparison with the
swiftness with which light travels. That flies nine-
teen million times quicker. Death is an electric
shock we receive in our hearts, and on the wings
of electricity the liberated soul flies away. The
sunlight requires eight minutes and a few seconds
for a journey of more than ninety-five millions of
miles; on the wings of electric power the soul
requires only a few moments to accomplish the
same flight. The space between the orbs of the
universe is, for her, not greater than, for us, the
distances between the houses of our friends dwel-
ling in the same town and even living close toge-
ther. Yet this electric shock costs us the life of
the body here below, unless, like the watchman,
we have the magic goloshes on.

In a few seconds the watchman had traversed
the distance of two hundred and sixty thousand
miles to the moon, which body, as we know, con-
sists of a much lighter material than that of our
earth, and is, as we should say, soft as new-fallen

C2
20 The Goloshes of Fortune.

snow. ~ He found himself on one of the many ring
mountains with which we are familiar from Dr.
Madler’s great map of the moon. Within the
ring a great bowl-shaped hollow went down to the
depth of a couple of miles. At the base of the
hollow lay a town, of whose appearance we can
only form an idea by pouring the white of an egg
into a glass of water: the substance here was just
as soft as white of egg, and formed similar towers,
and cupolas, and terraces like sails, transparent
and floating in the thin air. Our earth hung over
his head like a great dark red ball.

He immediately became aware of a number of
beings, who were certainly what we call “men,”
but their appearance was very different from ours.
If they had been put up in a row and painted, one
would have said, “That ’s a beautiful arabesque !”
They had also a language, but no one could exp¢ct
that the soul of the watchman should understand
it. But the watchman’s soul did understand it,
for our souls have far greater abilities than we
suppose. - Does not its wonderful dramatic talent
show itself in our dreams? Then every one of our
acquaintances appears speaking in his own cha-
racter and with his own voice, in a way that not
one of us could imitate in our waking hours. How
The Goloshes of Fortune. at

- does our soul bring back to us people of whom we
have not thought for many years? Suddenly
they come into our souls with their smallest pecu-
liarities about them. In fact, it is a fearful thing,
that memory which our souls possess : it can repro-
duce every sin, every bad thought. And then, it
may be asked, shall we be able to give an account
of every idle word that has been in our hearts and
on our lips ?

Thus the watchman’s soul understood the lan-
guage of the people in the moon very well. They
disputed about this earth, and doubted if it could
be inhabited; the air, they asserted, must be too
thick for a sensible moon-man to live there. They
considered that the moon alone was peopled; for
that, they said, was the real body in which the
old-world people dwelt. They also talked of po-
litics. | 3

But let us go down to the East Street, and see
how it fared with the body of the watchman.

He sat lifeless upon the stairs. His pike had
fallen out of his hand, and his eyes stared up at
the moon, which his honest body was wondering
about.

“What’s o’clock, watchman?” asked a passer
by. But the man who didn’t answer was the
29, The Goloshes of Fortune.

watchman. Then the passengers tweaked him
quite gently by the nose, and then he lost his
balance. There lay the body stretched out at full
length—the man was dead.- All his comrades
were very much frightened: dead he was, and dead
he remained. It was reported, and it was dis-
cussed, and in the morning the body was carried
out to the hospital.

That would be a pretty jest for the soul if it
should chance to come back, and probably seek its
body in the Hast Street, and not find it! Most
likely it would go first to the police and afterwards
to the address office, that inquiries might be made
from thence respecting the missing goods; and
thence it would wander out to the hospital. But we
may console ourselves with the idea that the soul
is most clever when it acts upon its own account ;
it is the body that makes it stupid.

_ As we have said, the watchman’s body was taken
to the hospital, and brought into the washing-
room; and naturally enough the first thing they
did there was to pull off the goloshes; and then
the soul had to come back. It took its way
directly towards the body, and in a few seconds
there was life in the man. He declared that this
had been the most terrible night of his life ; he
The Goloshes of Fortune. 2.3

would not have such feelings again, not for a shil-
ling; but now it was past and over.

The same day he was allowed to leave ; but the
goloshes remained at the hospital.

IV.
A Great Moment.—A very Unusual Journey.

Every one who belongs to Copenhagen knows
the look of the entrance to the Frederick’s Hos-
pital in Copenhagen; but as, perhaps, a few will
read this story who do not belong to Copenhagen,
it becomes necessary to give a short description
of it.

The hospital is separated from the street by a
tolerably high railing, in which the thick iron rails
stand so far apart, that certain very thin inmates
are said to have squeezed between them, and thus
paid their little visits outside the premises. The
part of the body most difficult to get through was
the head; and here, as it often happens in the
world, small heads were the most fortunate. This
will be sufficient as an introduction.

One of the young volunteers, of whom one could
only say in one sense that he had a great head, had
24 The Goloshes of Fortune.

the watch that evening. The rain was pouring
down; but in spite of this obstacle he wanted to
go out, only for a quarter of an hour. It was
needless, he thought, to tell the porter of his wish,
especially if he could slip through between the
rails. There lay the goloshes which the watchman
had forgotten. It never occurred to him in the
least that they were goloshes of Fortune. They
would do him very good service in this rainy wea-
ther, and he pulled them on. Now the question
was whether he could squeeze through the bars ;
till now he had never tried it. There he stood.

“T wish to goodness I had my head outside! ””
cried he.

Andimmediately, though his head was very thick
and big, it glided: easily and quickly through.
The -goloshes must have understood it well; but
now the body was to slip through also, and that
could not be done.

“J ’m too fat,” said he. “I thought my head
‘was the thickest. I sha’n’t get through.”

Now he wanted to pull his head back quickly,
but he could not manage it: he could move his
neck, but that was all. His first feeling was one
of anger, and then his spirits sank down to zero.
The goloshes of Fortune had placed him in this
The Goioshes of Fortune. 25
5

terrible condition, and, unfortunately, it never oc-
curred to him to wish himself free. No: instead
of wishing, he only strove, and could not stir from
the spot. The rain poured down; not a creature
was to be seen in the street; he could not reach
the gate bell, and how was he to get loose? He
foresaw that he would have to remain here until
the morning, and then they would have to send
for the blacksmith, to file through the iron bars.
But such a business is not to be done quickly,
The whole charity school would be upon its legs ;
the whole sailors’ quarter close by would come up
and see him standing in the pillory; and a fine
crowd there would be.

“Ugh!” he cried, “the blood’s rising to my
head, and I shall go mad! Yes, 1’m going mad!
‘If I were free, most likely it would pass over.”

That ’s what he ought to have said at first. The
very moment he had uttered the thought his head
was free; and now he rushed in, quite dazed with
the fright the goloshes of Fortune had given him.
But we must not think the whole affair was over ;
there was much worse to come yet.

The night passed away, and the following day
too, and nobody sent for the goloshes. In the
evening a display of oratory was to take place in


26 The Goloshes of Fortune.

an amateur theatre in a distant street. The house
was crammed; and among the audience was the
volunteer from the hospital, who appeared to have
forgotten his adventures of the previous evening.
He had the goloshes on, for they had not been
sent for; and as it was dirty in the streets, they
might do him good service. A new piece was
recited: it was called “My Aunt’s Spectacles.”
These were spectacles which, when any one put
them on in a great assembly of people, made all
present look like cards, so that one could prophesy
from them all that would happen in the coming
year.

The idea struck him: he would have liked to
possess such a pair of spectacles. If they were
used rightly, they would perhaps enable the wearer
to look into people’s hearts; and that, he thought,
would be more interesting than to see what was
going to happen in the next year ; for future events
would be known in time, but the people’s thoughts
never.

“Now I’1l look at the row of ladies and gentle-
men on the first bench: if one could look directly
into their hearts! Yes, that must be a hollow, a
sort of shop. How my eyes would wander about
in that shop! In every lady’s, yonder, I should
The Goloshes of Fortune. 27

doubtless find a great milliner’s warehouse: with
this one here the shop is empty, but it would do
no harm to have it cleaned out. But would there
really be such shops? Ah, yes!” he continued,
sighing, “I know one in which all the goods are
first-rate, but there’s a servant in it already, that’s
the only drawback in the whole shop! From one
and another the word would be ‘ Please to step in |’
Oh that I might only step in, like a neat little
thought, and slip through their hearts !”

That was the word of command for the goloshes.
The volunteer shrivelled up, and began to take a
very remarkable journey through the hearts of the
first row of spectators. The first heart through
which he passed was that of a lady; but he imme-
diately fancied himself in the Orthopedic Institute,
in the room where the plaster casts of deformed
limbs are kept hanging against the walls; the only
difference was, that these casts were formed in the
institute when the patients came in, but here in
the heart they were formed and preserved after the
good persons had gone away. For they were casts
of female friends, whose bodily and. mental faults
were preserved here.

Quickly he had passed into another female heart.
But this seemed to him like a great holy church
28 The Goloshes of Fortune.

the white dove of innocence fluttered over the
high altar. Gladly would he have sunk down on
his knees; but he was obliged to go away into the
next heart. Still, however, he heard the tones of
the organ, and it seemed to him that he himself
had become another and a better man. He felt
himself not unworthy to enter into the next sanc-
tuary, which showed itself in the form of a poor
garret, containing a sick mother. But through
the window the warm sun streamed in, and two
sky-blue birds sang full of childlike joy, while the
sick mother prayed for a blessing on her daughter.
Now he crept on his hands and knees through
an oyer-filled butcher’s shop. There was meat,
and nothing but meat, wherever he went. It was
the heart of a rich respectable man, whose name
is certainly to be found in the address-book.
Now he was in the heart of this man’s wife:
this heart was an old dilapidated pigeon-house.
. The husband’s portrait was used as a mere weather-
cock: it stood in connection with the doors, and
these doors opened and shut according as the hus-
band turned.
Then he came into a cabinet of mirrors, such as
we. find in the castle of Rosenburg; but these
mirrors magnified ina great degree. Inthe middle
The Goloshes of Fortune. 29

of the floor sat, like a Grand Lama, the imsignifi-
cant I of the proprietor, astonished in the contem-
plation of his own greatness.

Then he fancied himself transported into a
narrow needle-case full of pointed needles ; and he





fl

ma









The Volunteer tries a blister.

thought, ‘‘ This must decidedly be the heart of an °
old maid!” But that was not the case. It was
a young officer, wearmg several orders, and of
whom people said, “ He’s a man of intellect and
heart.”

Quite confused was the poor edlitntade when he
emerged from the heart of the last person in the
30 The Goloshes of Fortune.

first row. He could not arrange his thoughts, and
fancied it must be his powerful imagination which
had run away with him.

_“ Gracious powers!” he sighed, “I must cer-
tainly have a great tendency to go mad. It is also
unconscionably hot in here: the blood is rising to
my head!”

And now he remembered the great event of the
last evening, how his head had been caught between
the iron rails of the hospital. :

“That ’s where I must have caught it,” thought
he. “T must do something at once. A Russian
bath might be very good. I wish I were lying on
the highest board in the bath-house.”

And there he lay on the highest board in the
vapour bath; but he was lying there in all his
clothes, in boots and goloshes, and the hot drops
from the ceiling were falling on his face.

“Hi!” he cried, and jumped down to take a
plunge bath.

The attendant uttered a loud cry on seeing a
person there with all his clothes on. The volun-
teer had, however, enough presence of mind to
whisper to him, “It’s for a wager!”? But the
first thing he did when he got into his own reom
was to put a big blister on the nape of his neck,
The Goloshes of Fortune. 31

and another on his back, that they might draw out
his madness.

Next morning he had a very sore back; and
that was all he had got by the goloshes of Fortune.

We
The Transformation of the Copying Clerk.

Tur watchman, whom we surely have not yet
forgotten, in the meantime thought of the goloshes,
which he had found and brought to the hospital.
He took them away; but as neither the lieutenant
nor any one in the street would own them, they
were taken to the police office.

“They look exactly like my own goloshes,” said
one of the copying gentlemen, as he looked at the
unowned articles and put them beside his own.
“ More than a shoemaker’s eye is required to dis-
tinguish them from one another.”

“Mr. Copying Clerk,” said a servant, coming
in with some papers.

The copying clerk turned and spoke to the man :
when he had done this, he turned to look at the
goloshes again ; he was in great doubt if the right-
hand or the left-hand pair belonged to him.

“Tt must be those that are wet,” he thought.
25 The Goloshes of Fortune.

Now here he thought wrong, for these were the
goloshes of Fortune; but why should not the
police be sometimes mistaken? He put them on,
thrust his papers into his pocket, and put a few
manuscripts under his arm, for they were to be
read at home, and abstracts to be made from them.
But now it was Sunday morning, and the weather
was fine. :

“ A walk to Fredericksburg would do me good,”
said he; and he went out accordingly.

There could not be a quieter, steadier person .
than this young man. We grant him his little
walk with all our hearts; it will certainly do him
good after so much sitting. At first he only walked
like a vegetating creature, so the goloshes had no
opportunity of displaying their magic power.

In the avenue he met an acquaintance, one of
our younger poets, who told him that he was going
to start, next day, on a summer trip.

“Are you going away again already?” asked
the copying clerk. ‘ What a happy, free man you
are! You can fly wherever you like; we others
have a chain to our foot.”

“ But it is fastened to the bread tree!” replied
the poet. ‘“ You need not be anxious for the mor-
row; and when you grow old you get a pension.”
The Goloshes of Fortune. 3

“But you are better off, after all,’ said the
copying clerk. “It must be a pleasure to sit and
write poetry. Everybody says agreeable things to
you, and then you are your own master. Ah, you
should just try it, poring over the frivolous affairs
in the court.”

The poet shook his head, and the copying clerk
shook his head also: each retained his own opinion ;
and thus they parted.

“They are a strange race, these poets ! ” thought
the copying clerk. “I should like to try and enter
into such a nature—to become a poet myself. Iam
certain I should not write such complaining verses
as the rest. What a splendid spring day for a
poet! the air is so remarkably clear, the clouds
are so beautiful, and the green smells so sweet.
For many years I have not felt as I feel at this
moment.”

We already notice that he has become a poet.
To point this out would, in most cases, be what the
Germans call “mawkish.” It is a foolish fancy
to imagine a poet different from other people, for
among the latter there may be natures more poet-
ical than those of many an acknowledged poet.
The difference is only that the poet has a better
spiritual memory: his ears hold fast the feeling

6 D
34 The Goloshes of Fortune.

and the idea until they are embodied clearly and
firmly in words; and the others cannot do that.
But the transition from an every-day nature to
that of a poet is always a transition, and as such
it must be noticed in the copying clerk.

« What glorious fragrance!” he cried. “ How
it reminds me of the violets at Aunt Laura’s!
Yes, that was when I was a little boy. 1 have
not thought of that for a long time. The good
old lady! She lies yonder, by the canal. She
always had a twig or a couple of green shoots in
the water, let the winter be as severe as it might.
The violets bloomed, while I had to put warm
farthings against the frozen window-panes to make
peep-holes. That was a pretty view. Out in the
canal the ships were frozen in, and deserted by the
whole crew; a screaming crow was the only living
creature left. Then, when the spring breezes
blew, it all became lively: the ice was sawn apart
amid great shouting and cheers, the ships were
tarred and rigged, and then they sailed away to
strange lands. I remained here, and must always.
remain, and sit at the police office, and let others
take passports for abroad. That’s my fate. Oh,
yes!” and he sighed deeply. Suddenly he paused.
“Good Heaven! what is come to me? I never
The Goloshes of Fortune. a5

thought or felt as I do now. It must. be the
spring air: it is just as dizzying as it is charming !”
He felt in his pockets for his papers. “ These will
give me something else to think of,” said he, and
let his eyes wander over the first leaf. There he
read: “*Dame Sigbirth; an original tragedy in
five acts’? What is that? And it is my own
hand. Have I written this tragedy? ‘The Intrigue
on the Promenade; or, the Day of Penance.—Vau-
deville’ But where did I get that from? It must
have been put into my pocket. Here is a letter.
Yes, it was from the manager of the theatre; the
pieces were rejected, and the letter is not at all
politely worded. H’m! H’m!” said the copying
clerk, and he sat down upon a bench: his thoughts
were elastic; his head was quite soft. Involun-
tarily he grasped one of the nearest flowers; it
was a common little daisy. What the botanists
require several lectures to explain to us, this flower
told in a minute. It told the glory of its birth;
it told of the strength of the sunlight, which spread
out the delicate leaves and made them give out
fragrance. Then he thought of the battles of life,
which likewise awaken feelings in our breasts.
Air and light are the lovers of the flower, but light
is the favoured one. ‘Towards the light it turned,
D2
36 The Goloshes of Fortune.

and only when the light vanished the flower rolled
her leaves together and slept in the embrace of
the air.

“Tt is light that adorns me!” said the Flower.

“But the air allows you to breathe,” whispered
the poet’s voice.

Just by him stood a little boy, knocking with
his stick upon the marshy ground. ‘The drops of
water spurted up among the green twigs, and the
copying clerk thought of the millions of infusoria
which were cast up on high with the drops, which
was the same to them, in proportion to their size,
as it would be to us if we were hurled high over
the region of the clouds. And the copying clerk
thought of this and of the great change which had
taken place within him; he smiled.

“J sleep and dream! It is wonderful, though,
how naturally one can dream, and yet know all
the time that it is a dream. I should like to be ©
able to remember it all clearly to-morrow when I
wake. I seem to myself quite unusually excited.
What a clear appreciation I have of everything,
and how free I feel! But I am certain that if I
remember anything of it to-morrow, it will be
nonsense. That has often been so with me before.
It is with all the clever famous things one says
The Goloshes of Fortune. bi,

and hears in dreams as with the money of the
elves under the earth; when one receives it, it is
rich and beautiful, but looked at by daylight, it
is nothing but stones and dried leaves. Ah!” he
sighed, quite plaintively, and gazed at the chirping
birds, as they sprang merrily from bough to bough,
‘they are much better off than I. Flying is a
noble art. Happy he who is born with wings.
Yes, if I could change myself into anything, it
should be into a lark.”

In a moment his coat-tails and sleeves grew
together and formed wings; his clothes became
feathers, and his goloshes claws. He noticed it
quite plainly, and laughed inwardly.

“Well, now I can see that I am dreaming, but
so wildly I have never dreamed before.”

And he flew up into the green boughs and sang ;
but there was no poetry in the song, for the poetic
nature was gone. The goloshes, like every one
who wishes to do any business thoroughly, could
only do one thing at a time. He wished to bea
poet, and he became one. Then he wished to be
a little bird, and, in changing thus, the former
peculiarity was lost.

“That is charming!” he said. “In the day-
time I sit in the police office among the driest of
38 The Goloshes of Fortune.

law papers; at night I can dream that I am flying
about, as a lark, in the Fredericksburg Garden.
One could really write a popular comedy upon it.”

Now he flew down into the grass, turned his
head in every direction, and beat with his beak
upon the bending stalks of grass, which, in pro-
portion to his size, seemed to him as long as palm
branches of Northern Africa.

Tt was only for a moment, and then all around
him became as the blackest night. It seemed to
him that some immense substance was cast over
him: it was a great cap, which a sailor boy threw
over the bird. A hand came in and seized the
copying clerk by the back and wings in a way that
made him whistle. In his terror he cried aloud,

“The impudent rascal! I am copying clerk at
the police office !”’

But that sounded to the boy only like “piep!
piep!”” and he tapped the bird on the beak and
wandered on with him.

In the alley the boy met two other boys, who
belonged to the educated classes, socially speaking,
but, according to abilities, they ranked in the
lowest class in the school. These bought the bird
for a few Danish shillings; and so the copying
clerk was carried back to Copenhagen.
The Goloshes of Fortune. 39

“Tt’s a good thing that I am dreaming,” he
said, “or I should become really angry. First I
was a poet, and now I’m a lark! Yes, it must
have been the poetic nature which transformed me
into that little creature. It is a miserable state







The Copying Clerk changes hands.

of things, especially when one falls into the hands
of boys. I should like to know what the end of
it will be.”

The boys carried him into a very elegant room.
A stout smiling lady received them. But she was
not at all gratified to see the common field bird, as
she called the lark, coming in too. Only for one
40 ~The Goloshes of Fortune.

day she would consent to it; but they must put
the bird in the empty cage which stood by the
window.

“Perhaps that will please Polly,” she added,
and laughed at a great Parrot swinging himself
proudly in his ring in the handsome brass cage.

“It’s Polly’s birthday,” she said, simply, “so
the little field bird shall congratulate him.”

Polly did not answer a single word; he only
‘swung proudly to and fro. Buta pretty Canary,
who had been brought here last summer out of his
warm fragrant fatherland, began to sing loudly.

“Screamer!” said the lady; and she threw a
white handkerchief over the cage.

«Piep! piep!” sighed he; “here’s a terrible
snow-storm.”” And thus sighing, he was silent.

The copying clerk, or, as the lady called him,
the field bird, was placed in a little cage close to
the Canary, and not far from the Parrot. The
only human words which Polly could say, and
which often sounded very comically, were “ Come,
let’s be men now!’ Liverything else that he
screamed out was just as unintelligible as the
song of the Canary bird, except for the copying
clerk, who was now also a bird, and who under-
stood his comrades very well.
The Goloshes of Fortune. 41

“T flew under the green palm tree and the
blossoming almond tree!” sang the Canary. “I
flew with my brothers and sisters over the beau-
tiful flowers and over the bright sea, where the
plants waved in the depths. I also saw many
beautiful parrots, who told the merriest stories.”

«Those were wild birds,” replied the Parrot.
«They had no education. Iset us be men now!
Why don’t you laugh? If the lady and all the
strangers could laugh at it, so can you. It isa
great fault to have no taste for what is pleasant.
No, let us be men now.”’

“Do you remember the pretty girls who danced
under the tents spread out beneath the blooming
trees? Do you remember the sweet fruits and
cooling juice in the wild plants ?”

“Oh, yes!” replied the Parrot; “but here I
am far better off. I have good care and genteel
treatment. I know I’ve a good head, and I don’t
ask for more. Let us be men now. You are what
they call a poetic soul. I have thorough know-
ledge and wit. You have genius, but no pru-
dence. You mount up into those high natural
notes of yours, and then you get covered up. That
is never done to me; no, no, for I cost them a
little more. I make an impression with my beak,
42 The Goloshes of Fortune.

and can cast wit around me. Now let us be
men !”

“O my poor blooming fatherland!” sang the
Canary. “I will praise thy dark green trees and
thy quiet bays, where the branches kiss the clear
watery mirror ; I’ll sing of the joy of all my shining
brothers and sisters, where the plants grow by the
desert springs.” ¢

“Now, pray leave off these dismal tones,” cried
the Parrot. ‘Sing something at which one can
laugh! Laughter is the sign of the highest mental
development. Look if a dog ora horse can laugh!
No: they can cry; but laughter—that is given to
men alone. Ho! ho! ho!” screamed Polly, and
finished the jest with “ Let us be men now.”

- “You little grey Northern bird,” said the Ca-
nary, “‘so you have also become a prisoner. It is
certainly cold in your woods, but still liberty is
there. Fly out! they have forgotten to close your
cage ; the upper window is open. Fly! fly!”

Instinctively the copying clerk obeyed, and flew
forth from his prison. At the same moment the
half-opened door of the next room creaked, and
stealthily, with fierce sparkling eyes, the house cat
crept in, and made chase upon him. The Canary
fluttered in its cage, the Parrot flapped its wings,
The Goloshes of Fortune. 43

and cried “Let us be men now.” The copy:ng
clerk felt mortally afraid, and flew through the
window, away over the houses and streets ; at last
he was obliged to rest a little.

The house opposite had a homelike look: one
of the windows stood open, and he flew in. It
was his own room: he perched upon the table.

“Tuet us be men now,’ he broke out, invo-
luntarily imitating the Parrot; and in the same
moment he was restored to the form of the copy-
ing clerk ; but he was sitting on the table.

“Heaven preserve me!” he cried. ‘‘ How
could I have come here and fallen so soundly
asleep? That was an unquiet dream, too, that I
had. The whole thing was great nonsense.”

VI.
The Best that the Goloshes brought.

On the following day, quite early in the morn-
ing, as the clerk still lay in bed, there came a
tapping at his door: it was his neighbour who.
lodged on the same floor, a young theologian ; and.
he came in.

“Tend me your goloshes,” said he. ‘It is
44 The Goloshes of Fortune.

very wet in the garden, but the sun shines glo-
riously, and I should like to smoke a pipe down
there.”

He put on the goloshes, and was soon in the
garden, which contained a plum tree and an apple
tree. Even a little garden like this is highly prized
in the midst of great cities.

The theologian wandered up and down the path;
it was only six o’clock, and a post-horn sounded
out in the street.

“Oh, travelling! travelling!” he cried out,
“that’s the greatest happiness in all the world.
That’s the highest goal of my wishes. Then this
disquietude that I feel would be stilled. But it
would have to be far away. I should like to see
beautiful Switzerland, to travel through Italy,
to 39

Yes, it was a good thing that the goloshes took
effect immediately, for he might have gone too far



even for himself and for us others too. He was
travelling; he was in the midst of Switzerland,
packed tightly with eight others in the interior of
a diligence. He had a headache and a weary
feeling in his neck, and his feet had gone to sleep,
for they were swollen by the heavy boots he had
on, He was hovering in a condition between
The Goloshes of Fortune. 45

sleeping and waking. In his right-hand pocket
he had his letter of credit, in his left-hand pocket
his passport, and a few louis d’or were sewn into
a little bag he wore on his breast. Whenever he
dozed off, he dreamed he had lost one or other of
these possessions; and then he would start up in
a feverish way, and the first movement his hand
made was to describe a triangle from left to right,
and towards his breast, to feel whether he still
possessed them or not. Umbrellas, hats, and
walking sticks swang in the net over him, and
almost took away the prospect, which was impres-
sive enough: he glanced out at it, and his heart
sang what one poet at least, whom we know, has
sung in Switzerland, but has not yet printed ;

«Tis a prospect as fine as heart can desire,
Before me Mont Blanc the rough:
"Tis pleasant to tarry here and admire,
If only you’ve money enough.”

Great, grave, and dark was all nature around him.
The pine woods looked like little mosses upon the
high rocks, whose summits were lost m cloudy
mists; and then it began to snow, and the wind
blew cold. :

* Ugh!” he sighed; “if we were only the other
46 The Goloshes of Fortune.

side of the Alps, then it would be summer, and I
should have got money on my letter of credit: my
anxiety about this prevents me from enjoying
Switzerland. Oh, if I were only at the other side!”
- And then he was on the other side, in the midst
of Italy, between Florence and Rome. ‘The lake
Thrasymene lay spread out im the evening light,
like flaming gold among the dark blue hills.
Here, where Hannibal beat Flaminius, the grape-
vines held each other by their green fingers ; pretty
half naked children were keeping a herd of coal-
black pigs under a clump of fragrant laurels by
the way-side. If we could reproduce this scene
accurately, all would cry, ‘ Glorious Italy!” But
neither the theologian nor any of his travelling

~ companions in the carriage of the vetturino thought
this.

Poisonous flies and gnats flew into the carriage
by thousands. In vain they beat the air fran-
tically with a myrtle branch—the flies stung them
nevertheless. There was not one person in the
carriage whose face was not swollen and covered
with stings. The poor horses looked miserable,
the flies tormented them wofully, and it only
mended the matter for a moment when the coach-
man dismounted and scraped them clean from the
The Goloshes of Fortune. 47

insects that sat upon them in great swarms. Now
the sun sank down; a short but icy coldness per-
vaded all nature; it was like the cold air of a
funeral vault after the sultry summer day; and all
around the hills and clouds put on that remark-
able green tone which we notice on some old pic-
tures, and consider so unnatural unless we have
ourselves witnessed a similar play of colour. It
was a glorious spectacle; but the stomachs of all
were empty and their bodies exhausted, and every
wish of the heart turned towards a resting-place
for the night; but how could that be won? To
descry this resting-place all eyes were turned more
eagerly to the road than towards the beauties of
nature.

The way now led through an olive wood: he
could have fancied himself passing between knotty
willow trunks at home. Here, by the solitary inn,
a dozen crippled beggars had taken up their posi-
tions: the quickest among them looked, to quote
an expression of Marryat’s, like the eldest son of
Famine, who had just come of age. The others
were either blind, or had withered legs, so that
they crept about on their hands, or they had wi-
thered arms with fingerless hands. This was misery
in rags indeed. “ Eccellenza, miserabili!” they
48 The Goloshes of Fortune.

sighed, and stretched forth their diseased limbs.
The hostess herself, in untidy hair, and dressed in
a dirty blouse, received her guests. The doors
were tied up with string; the floor of the room
was of brick, and half of it was grubbed up; bats
flew about under the roof, and the smell with-
in



“Yes, lay the table down in the stable,” said
one of the travellers. “ There, at least, one knows
what one is breathing.”

The windows were opened, so that a little fresh
air might find its way in; but quicker than the
air came the withered arms and the continual
whining, “ Miserabili, Eccellenza!’’ On the walls
were many inscriptions; half of them were against
“ La bella Italia.”

The supper was served. It consisted of a watery
soup, Seasoned with pepper and rancid oil. This
last dainty played a chief part in the salad; musty
eggs and roasted cocks’-combs were the best dishes.
Even the wine had a strange taste—it was a dread-
ful mixture. -_

At night the boxes were placed up against the
doors, and one of the travellers kept watch while
the rest slept. The theologian was the sentry.
Oh, how close it was in there. The heat oppressed
The Goloshes of Fortune. 49

him; the gnats buzzed and stung, and the misera-
bil outside moaned in their dreams.

“Yes, travelling would be all very weil,’’ said
the theologian, “if one had no body. If the body
could rest, and the mind fly! Wherever I go, I
find a want that oppresses my heart: it is some-
thing better than the present moment that I desire.
Yes, something better—the best ; but what is that,
and where is it? In my own heart I know very
well what I want: I want to attain to a happy
goal, the happiest of all!”

And so soon as the word was spoken he found
himself at home. The long white curtains hung
down from the windows, and in the middle of the
room stood a black coffin ; in this he was lying in
the quiet sleep of death: his wish was fulfilled
—his body was at rest and his spirit roaming.
“Hsteem no man happy who is not yet in his
graye,’ were the words of Solon; here their force
was proved anew.

Every corpse is a sphinx of immortality; the
sphinx here also in the black sarcophagus answered
what the living man had laid down two days be-
fore:—

“Thou strong, stern Death! Thy silence waketh fear;

Thou leavest mould’ring gravestones for thy traces.
6 E
50 The Goloshes of Fortune.

Shall not the soul see Jacob’s ladder here ?
No resurrection type but churchyard grasses ?
The deepest woes escape the world’s dull eye:
Thou that alone on Duty’s path hast sped,
Heavier those duties on thy heart would lie
Than lies the earth now on thy coffin’d head.”

Two forms were moving to and fro in the room.
We know them both. They were the Fairy of
Care and the Ambassadress of Happmess. They
bent down over the dead man.

“Do you see?” said Care. “‘ What happiness
have your goloshes brought to men?”

«They have at least brought a permanent bene-
fit to him who slumbers here,’’ replied Happiness.

“Oh, no!” said Care. ‘He went away of
’ himself, he was not summoned. His spirit was
not strong enough to lift the treasures which he
had been destined to lift. I will do him a favour.”

And she drew the goloshes from his feet; then
the sleep of death was ended, and the awakened
man raised himself up. Care vanished, and with
her the goloshes disappeared too: doubtless she
looked upon them as her property.


THE SNOW QUEEN.

IN SEVEN STORIES.
FIRST sTORY.
_ Which treats of the Mirror and Fragments.

more than we do now, for he was a bad goblin.
He was one of the very worst, for he was a demon.

OOK you, now we’re going to begin. When
we are at the end of the story we shall know



One day he was in very good spirits, for he had
made a mirror which had this peculiarity, that
everything good and beautiful that was reflected
in it shrank together into almost nothing, but
that whatever was worthless and looked ugly be-
came prominent and looked worse thaneyer. The
most lovely landscapes seen in this mirror looked
like boiled spinach, and the best people became
hideous, or stood on their heads and had no bodies ;
their faces were so distorted as to be unrecognizable,
and a single freckle was shown spread out over nose
E2
52 The Snow Queen.

and mouth. That was very amusing, the demon
said. When good pious thoughts passed through
any person’s mind, these were again shown in the
mirror, so that the demon chuckled at his artistic
invention. Those who visited the goblin school
—for he kept a goblin school — declared every-
where that a wonder had been wrought; for now,
they asserted, one could see, for the first time, how
the world and the people in it really looked. Now
they wanted to fly up to heaven, to sneer and scoff
at the angels themselves. The higher they flew
with the mirror, the more it grinned; they could
scarcely hold it fast. They flew higher and higher,
and then the mirror trembled so terribly amid its
grinning that it fell down out of their hands to
the earth, where it was shattered into a hundred
million million and more fragments. And now
this mirror occasioned much more unhappiness
than before, for some of the fragments were
scarcely so large as a barleycorn, and these flew
about in the world, and whenever they flew into
any one’s eyes they stuck there, and those people
saw everything wrongly, or had only eyes for the
bad side of a thing, for every little fragment of the
mirror had retained the same power which the
whole glass possessed. A few persons even got a






j Niue

}



The magic Mirror.

fragment of the mirror into their hearts, and that
was terrible indeed, for such a heart became a
block of ice. A few fragments of the mirror were
so large that they were used as window-panes, but
it was a bad thing to look at one’s friends through
these panes ; other pieces were made into spectacles,
and then it went badly when people put on these
spectacles to see rightly and to be just; and then
the demon laughed till his paunch shook, for it
tickled him so. But without, some little fragments
54 The Snow Queen.

of glass still floated about in the air—and now we
shall hear.

SECOND STORY.
A Little Boy and a Little Girl.

In the great town where there are many houses
and so many people that there is not room enough
for every one to have a little garden, and where
consequently most persons are compelled to be con-
tent with some flowers in flower-pots, were two poor
children who possessed a garden somewhat larger
than a flower-pot. They were not brother and
sister, but they loved each other quite as much as
if they had been. Their parents lived just opposite
cach other in two garrets, there where the roof of
one neighbour’s house joined that of another; and
where the water-pipe ran between the two houses
was a little window ; one had only to step across
the pipe to get from one window to the other.

The parents of each child had a great box, in
which grew kitchen herbs that they used, and a
little rose bush ; there was one in each box, and
they grew famously. Now, it had occurred to the
parents to place the boxes across the pipe, so that
they reached from one window to the other, and
The Snow Queen. 55

looked quite like small embankments of flowers.
Pea plants hung down over the boxes, and the rose
bushes pushed forth long twigs, which clustered
round the windows and bent down towards each
other : it was almost like a triumphal arch of flowers
and leaves. As the boxes were very high, and the
children knew that they might not creep upon
them, they often obtained permission to step out
upon the roof behind the boxes, and to sit upon
their little stools under the roses, and there they
could play capitally.

In the winter there was an end of this amuse-
ment. ‘The windows were sometimes quite frozen
all over. But then they warmed copper shillings
on the stove, and held the warm coins against the
frozen pane, and this made a capital peep-hole, so
round, so round! and behind it gleamed a pretty
mild eye at each window; and these eyes belonged
to the little boy and the little girl. His name was
Kay and hers Gerda.

In the summer they could get to one another at
one bound ; but in the winter they had to go down
and up the long staircase, while the snow was
" pelting without.

‘ old grandmother.
56 The Snow Queen.

“«* Have they a Queen-bee ?”’ asked the little boy,
for he knew that there is one among the real bees.

“Yes, they have one,’
“She always flies where they swarm thickest. She

> replied grandmamma.

is the largest of them all, and never remains quiet
upon the earth; she flies up again into the black
cloud. Many a midnight she is flying through
the streets of the town, and looks in at the windows,
and then they freeze in such a strange way, and
look like flowers.”

“ Yes, I’ve seen that !”’ cried both the children ;
and now they knew that it was true.

“Can the Snow Queen come in here?” asked
the little girl.

“Only let her come,” cried the boy; “I7Il set
her upon the warm stove, and then she 71] melt.’

But grandmother smoothed his hair, and told
some other tales.

In the evening, when little Kay was at home
and half undressed, he clambered upon the chair
by the window, and looked through the little hole :
a few flakes of snow were falling outside, and one
of them, the largest of them all, remained lying
on the edge of one of the flower-boxes. The
snow-flake grew larger and larger, and at last be-
came a maiden clothed in the finest white gauze,
LY

we



Gerda and Kay.,

put together of millions of starry flakes. She was
beautiful and delicate, but of ice—of shining,
glittering ice. Yetshe was alive; her eyes flashed
like two clear stars, but there was no peace or rest
58 The Snow Queen.

in them. She nodded towards the window, and
beckoned with her hand. The little boy was fright-
ened, and sprang down from the chair; then it
seemed if a great bird flew by outside, in front of
the window.

Next day there was a clear frost, and then the
spring came; the sun shone, the green sprouted
forth, the swallows built nests, the windows were
opened, and the little children again sat in their
garden high up in the roof, over all the floors.

How splendidly the roses bloomed this summer !
And the little girl had learned a psalm, in which
mention was made of roses; and, in speaking of
roses, she thought of her own; and she sang it to
the little boy, and he sang, too,—

“The roses will fade and pass away,
But we the Christ-child shall see one day.”

And the little ones held each other by the hand,
kissed the roses, looked at God’s bright sunshine,
and spoke to it, as if the Christ-child were there.
What splendid summer days those were! How
beautiful it was without, among the fresh rose
bushes, which seemed as if they would never leave
off blooming ! .

Kay and Gerda sat and looked at the picture-
The Snow Queen. 59

book of beasts and birds. Then it was, while the
clock was just striking twelve on the church tower,
that Kay said,

“Oh! something struck my heart and pricked
mein the eye.”

The little girl fell upon his neck; he blinked
his eyes. No, there was nothing at all to be seen.

“T think it is gone,” said he.

But it was not gone. It was just one of those
glass fragments which sprang from the mirror—
the magic mirror that we remember well, the ugly
glass that made everything great and good which
was mirrored in it to seem small and mean, but in
which the mean and the wicked things were brought
out in relief, and every fault was noticeable at once.
Poor little Kay had also received a splinter just in
his heart, and that will now soon become like a
lump of ice. It did not hurt him now, but the
splinter was still there.

“Why doyoucry?”’ heasked. “ You look ugly
like that. There’s nothing the matter with me.
Oh, fie!”? he suddenly exclaimed, “that rose is
worm-eaten, and this one is quite crooked. After
all, they’re ugly roses. They ’re like the box in
which they stand.’ And then ‘he kicked the box
with his foot, and tore both the roses off.
60 The Snow Queen.

“Kay, what are you about?” cried the little
gil.

And when he noticed her fright he tore off
another rose, and then sprang in at his own win-
dow, away from pretty little Gerda.

When she afterwards camewith her picture-book,
he said it was only fit for babies in arms; and
when grandmother told stories, he always came in
with a but; and when he could manage it, he
would get behind her, put on a pair of spectacles,
and talk just as she did; he could do that very
cleverly, and the people laughed at him. Soon he
could mimic the speech and the gait of everybody
im the street. Everything that was peculiar or
ugly about him Kay could imitate; and people
said, “‘ That boy must certainly have a remarkable
head.” But it was the glass that stuck deep in
his heart ; so it happened that he even teased little
Gerda, who loved him with all her heart.

His games now became quite different from what
they had been before ; they became quite sensible.
One winter’s day when it snowed he came out with
a great burning-glass, held up the blue tail of his
coat, and let the snow-flakes fall upon it.

“Now look at the glass, Gerda,” said he.

And every flake of snow was magnified, and
The Snow Queen. 61

looked like a splendid flower, or a star with ten
points; it was beautiful to behold.

«See how clever that is,” said Kay. ‘“ That’s
much more interesting than real flowers, and there
is not a single fault in it,—they’re quite regular
until they begin to melt.”

Soon after Kay came in thick gloves, and with
his sledge upon his back. He called up to Gerda,
“Tve got leave to go into the great square where
the other boys play,’’ and he was gone.

In the great square the boldest among the boys
often tied their sledges to the country people’s
carts, and thus rode with them a good way. They
went capitally. When they were in the midst of
their playing there came a great sledge. It was
painted quite white, and in it sat somebody wrapped
in a rough white fur, and with a rough white cap
on his head. The sledge drove twice round the
square, and Kay bound his little sledge to it, and
so he drove on with it. It went faster and faster,
straight into the next street. The man who drove
turned round and nodded in a friendly way to Kay ;
it was as if they knew one another: each time
when Kay wanted to cast loose his little sledge,
the stranger nodded again, and then Kay remained
where he was, and thus they drove cut of the town
62 The Snow Queen.

gate. Then the snow began to fall so rapidly that
the boy could not see a hand’s breadth before him,
but still they drove on. Now he hastily dropped
the cord, so as to get loose from the great sledge,
but that was no use, for his sledge was fast bound to
the other, and now they went on like the wind.
Then he called out quite loudly, but nobody heard
him ; and the snow beat down, and the sledge flew
onward ; every now and then it gave a jump, and
they seemed to be flying over hedges and ditches.
The boy was quite frightened. He wanted to say
his prayers, but could remember nothing but the
multiplication table.

The snow-flakes became larger and larger, till at
last they looked like great white fowls. All at once
they sprang aside and the great sledge stopped, and
the person who had drivenit rose up. The fur and
the cap were made altogether of ice. It was a lady,
tall and slender, and brilliantly white; it was the
Snow Queen.

“ We have driven well!” said she. “ But why
do you tremble with cold? Creep into my warm
fur.”

And she seated him beside her in her own sledge,
and wrapped the fur round him, and he felt asif he
sank into a snow-drift.
The Snow Queen. 63

“ Are you still cold?” asked she, and then she
kissed him on the forehead.

Oh, that was colder than ice; it went quite
through to his heart, half of which was already a
lump of ice: he felt as if he were going to die;
but only for a moment; for then he seemed quite
well, and he did not notice the cold all about him.

“ My sledge! don’t forget my sledge.”

That was the first thing he thought of ; and it was
bound fast to one of the white chickens, and this
chicken fiew behind him with the sledge upon its
back. The Snow Queen kissed Kay again, and
then he had forgotton little Gerda, his grandmother,
and all at home.

“ Now you shall have no more kisses,” said she,
“for if you did I should kiss you to death.”

Kay looked at her. She was so beautiful, he
could not imagine a more sensible or lovely face;
she did not appear to him to be made of ice now as
before, when she sat at the window and beckoned
to him. In his eyes she was perfect ; he did not
feel at all afraid. He told her that he could do
mental arithmetic as far as fractions; that he
knew the number of square miles and the number
of inhabitants in the country. And she always
smiled, and then it seemed to him that what he
64 The Snow Queen.

knew was not enough, and he looked up into the
wide sky, and she flew with him high up upon the
black cloud, and the storm blew and whistled ; it
seemed as though the wind sang old songs. They
flew over woods and lakes, over sea and land : below
them roared the cold wind, the wolves howled, the
snow crackled ; over them flew the black screaming
crows ; but above all the moon shone bright and
clear, and Kay looked at the long, long winter
night ; by day he slept at the fect of the Queen.

THIRD STORY,

The Flower Garden of the Woman who could
Conjure.

Bur how did it fare with little Gerda when Kay
did not return? Whatcould have become of him?
No one knew, no one could give information. The
boys only told that they had seen him bind his
sledge to another very large one, which had driven
along the street and out at the town gate. Nobody
knew what had become of him ; many tears were
shed, and little Gerda especially wept long and
bitterly: then she said he was dead—he had been
drowned in the river which flowed close by their
The Snow Queen. 65

school. Oh, those were very dark long winter days !
But now spring came, with warmer sunshine.

“ Kay is dead and gone!” said little Gerda.

“T don’t believe it !”’ said the Sunshine.

“He is dead and gone!” she said to the Sparrows.

«We don’t believe it!” they replied.

And at last little Gerda did not believe it herself.

“J will put on my new red shoes,” she said
one morning,— those that Kay has never seen ;
and then I will go down to the river, and ask for
him.”

Tt was still very early ; she kissed the old grand-
mother, who was still asleep, put on her red shoes,
and went quite alone out of the town gate towards
the river.

Ts it true that you have taken away my little
playmate from me? Iwill give gon my red shoes
if you will give him back to me.’

And it seemed to her as if the waves nodded
quite strangely ; and then she took her red shoes,
that she hiked best of anything she possessed, and
threw them both into the river; but they fell close
to the shore, and the little wavelets carried them
back to her on the land. It seemed as if the river
would not take from her the dearest things she
possessed because he had not her little Kay; but

6 F
66 The Snow Queen.

she thought she had not thrown the shoes quite
far enough out; so she crept into a boat that lay
among the reeds ; she went to the other end of the
boat, and threw the shoes from thence into the
water; but the boat was not bound fast, and at
the movement she made, it glided away from the
shore. She noticed it, and hurried to get back,
but before she reached the other end the boat was
a yard from the bank, and it drifted away faster
than before.

Then little Gerda was very much frightened, and
began to cry; but no one heard her except the
Sparrows, and they could not carry her to land;
but they flew along by the shore, and sang, as if
to console her, ‘‘ Here we are! here weare!” The
boat drove on with the stream, and little Gerda sat
quite still, with only her stockings on her feet; her
little red shoes floated along behind her, but they
could not come up to the boat, for that made more
way.

It was very pretty on both shores: there were
beautiful flowers, old trees, and slopes with sheep
and cows ; but not one person was to be seen.

“< Perhaps the river will carry me to little Kay,”
thought Gerda.

And then she became more cheerful, and rose








Gerda and the strange Woman.

up, and for many hours she watched the charming
green banks; then she came to a great cherry
orchard, in which stood a little house with remark-
able blue and red windows; it had a thatched
roof, and without stood two wooden soldiers, who
presented arms to those who sailed past.

Gerda called to them, for she thought they were
alive; but of course they did not answer. She
came quite close to them; the river carried the
boat towards the shore,


68 The Snow Queen.

Gerda called still louder, and then there came out
of the house an old woman leaning on a crutch:
she had on a great velvet hat painted over with the
finest flowers.

“You poor little child!” said the old woman,
«how did you manage to come on the great rolling
river, and to float thus far out into the world ?”

And then the old woman went quite into the
water, seized the boat with her crutch-stick, drew
it to land, and lifted little Gerda out. And Gerda
was glad to be on the dry land again, though she
felt a little afraid of the strange old woman.

«Come and tell me who you are, and how you
came here,” said the old lady.

And Gerda told her everything; and the old
woman shook her head, and said “ Hem! hem !”
‘and when Gerda had told everything, and asked
if she had not seen little Kay, the woman said
that he had not yet come by, but that he pro-
bably would soon come. Gerda was not to be
sorrowful, but to look at the flowers and taste
the cherries, for they were better than any picture-
book, for each one of them could tell a story.
Then she took Gerda by the hand and led her
into the little house, and the old woman locked the

door.
The Snow Queen. 69

The windows were very high, and the panes were
red, blue, and yellow ; the daylight shone in a re-
markable way, with different colours. On the
table stood the finest cherries, and Gerda ate as
many of them as she liked, for she had leave to
do so. While she was eating them, the old lady
combed her hair with a golden comb, and the hair
hung in ringlets of pretty yellow round the friendly
little face, which looked as blooming as a rose.

“T have long wished for such a dear little girl
as you,” said the old lady. ‘Now you shall see
how well we shall live with one another.”

And as the ancient dame combed her hair, Gerda
forgot her adopted brother Kay more and more;
for this old woman could conjure, but she was not
a wicked witch. She only practised a little magic
for her own amusement, and wanted to keep little
Gerda. Therefore she went into the garden,
stretched out her crutch towards the rose bushes,
and, beautiful as they were, they all sank into the
earth, and one could not tell where they had stood.
The old woman was afraid that if the little girl
saw roses, she would think of her own, and re-
member little Kay, and‘run away.

Now Gerda was led out into the flower garden.
What fragrance was there, and what loveliness !
70 The Snow. Queen.

Every conceivable flower was there in full bloom ;
there were some for every season ; no picture-book
could be gayer and prettier. Gerda jumped high
for joy, and played till the sun went down behind
the high cherry trees; then she was put into a
lovely bed with red silk pillows stuffed with blue
violets ; and she slept there, and dreamed as glori-
ously as a Queen on her wedding-day.

Day after day she played with the nice flowers
in the warm sunshine; and thus many days went
by. Gerda knew every flower; but, as many as
there were of them, it still seemed to her as if one
were wanting, but which one she did not know.
One day she sat looking at the old lady’s hat with
the painted flowers, and the prettiest of them all
was arose. The old lady had forgotten to efface
it from her hat when she caused the others to dis-
appear. But soit is when one does not keep one’s
wits about one.

«What, are there no roses here ?” cried Gerda.

And she went among the beds, and searched and
searched, but there was not one to be found. Then
she sat down and wept: her tears fell just upon a
spot where a rose-bud lay buried, and when the
warm tears moistened the earth, the tree at once
sprouted up as blooming as when it had sunk ;
The Snow Queen. 71

and Gerda embraced it, and kissed the Roses, and
thought of the beautiful roses at home, and also
of little Kay.

“Oh, how I have been detained !”’ said the little
girl. “I wanted to seek for little Kay. Do you
not know where he is?” she asked the Roses: “ do
you think he is dead ?”’

“ He is not dead,” the Roses answered. ‘“ We
have been in the ground. All the dead people are
there, but Kay is not there.”

«Thank you,” said little Gerda; and she went
to the other flowers, looked into their cups, and
asked, ‘ Do you not know where little Kay is ?”

But every flower stood in the sun thinking only
of her own story or fancy tale: Gerda heard many,
many of them; but not one knew anything of
Kay.

And what did the Tiger-Lily say ?

“ Do you hear the drum ‘rub-dub!’ There are
only two notes, always ‘rub-dub !’ Hear the morn-
ing song of the women, hear the call of the priests.
The Hindoo widow stands in her long red mantle
on the funeral pile, the flames rise up around her
and her dead husband, but the Hindoo woman is
thinking of the living one here in the circle, of him
whose eyes burn hotter than flames, whose fiery
72 The Snow Queen.

glances have burned in her soul more ardently than
the flames themselves, which are soon to burn her
body to ashes. Can the flame of the heart die in
the flame of the funeral pile ?”

“T don’t understand that at all!” said little
Gerda.

«That ’s my story,” said the Lily.

What says the Convolvulus ?

“Over the narrow road looms an old knightly
castle: thickly the ivy grows over the crumbling
red walls, leaf by leaf up to the balcony, and
there stands a beautiful girl; she bends over the
balustrade and glances up the road. No rose on
its branch is fresher than she; no apple blossom
wafted onward by the wind floats more lightly
along. How her costly silks rustle! ‘Comes he
not yet ??”

“Ts it Kay whom you mean?” asked little
Gerda.

“I’m only speaking of a story—my dream,”
replied the Convolvulus.

What said the little Snowdrop ?

“« Between the trees a long board hangs by ropes.
That is aswing. Two pretty little girls, with clothes
white as snow, and long green silk ribbons on their
hats, are sitting upon it, swinging; their brother,
The Snow Queen. 43

who is greater than they, stands in the swing, and
has slung his arm round the rope to hold himself,
for in one hand he has a little saucer, and in the
other a clay pipe; he is blowing bubbles. The swing
flies, and the bubbles rise with beautiful changing
colours; the last still hangs from the pipe-bowl,
swaying in the wind. The swing flies on: the little
black dog, light as the bubbles, stands up on his
hind legs, and wants to be taken into the swing ;
it flies on; the dog falls, barks, and grows angry,
for he is teased ; and the bubble bursts. A swing-
ing board and a bursting bubble, that is my song.”

“It may be very pretty, what you’re telling,
but you speak it so mournfully, and you don’t
mention little Kay at all.”

What do the Hyacinths say ?

« There were three beautiful sisters, transparent
and delicate. The dress of one was red, that of the
second blue, and that of the third quite white:
hand in hand they danced by the calm lake in the
bright moonlight. They were not elves, they were
human beings. It was very sweet and fragrant
there. The girls disappeared in the forest, and the
sweet fragrance became stronger: three coffins,
with the three beautiful maidens lying in them,
glided from the wood-thicket across the lake ; the
a4. The Snow Queen.

glowworms flew gleaming about them like little
hovering lights. Are the dancing girls sleeping,
or are they dead? ‘The flower-scent says they are
dead, and the evening bell tolls their knell.”

«You make me quite sorrowful,” said little
Gerda. ‘‘ You scent so strongly, I cannot help
thinking of the dead maidens. Ah! is little Kay
really dead? ‘The roses have been down in the
earth, and they say no.”

“Kling-klang!”’ tolled the Hyacinth Bells; “we
are not tolling for little Kay—we don’t know him ;
we only sing our song, the only one we know.”

And Gerda went to the Buttercup, gleaming -
forth from the green leaves.

«You are a bright little sun,” said Gerda. “Tell
me if you know where I may find my companion.”

And the Buttercup shone very gaily, and looked
back at Gerda. What song might the Buttercup
sing? It was not about Kay.

“In a little courtyard the clear sun shone warm
on the first day of spring. The sunbeams glided
down the white wall of the neighbouring house ;
close by grew the first yellow flower, glancing like
gold in the bright sun’s ray. The old grandmother
sat out of doors in her chair; her granddaughter,
a poor handsome maid-servant, was coming home
The Snow Queen. 75

or a short visit: she kissed her old grandmother.

There was gold, heart’s gold, in that blessed kiss,
gold in the mouth, gold in the south, gold in the
morning hour. See, that’s my little story,” said
the Buttercup.

“My poor old grandmother !” sighed Gerda.
“ Yes, she is surely longing for me and grieving
for me, just as she did for little Kay. But I shall
soon go home and take Kay with me. There is no
use of my asking the flowers, they only know their
own song, and give me no information. And then
she tied her little frock round her, that she might
run the faster; but the Jonquil struck against her
leg as she sprang over it, and she stopped to look
at the tall yellow flower, and asked, “ Do you,
perhaps, know anything of little Kay ?”

And she bent quite down to the flower, and
what did it say?

“T can see myself! I can see myself!” said
the Jonquil. ‘‘Oh! oh! how I smell! Up in the
little room, in the gable, stands a little dancing
girl ; she stands sometimes on one foot, sometimes
on both ; she seems to tread on all the world. She’s
nothing but an ocular delusion: she pours water
out of a tea-pot on a bit of stuff—it is her boddice.
“Cleanliness is a fine thing,’ she says: her white
76. The Snow Queen.

frock hangs on a hook; it has been washed in the
tea-pot too, and dried on the roof: she puts it on,
and ties her saffron handkerchief round her neck,
‘and the dress looks all the whiter. Poimt your
toes! look how she seems to stand on a stalk. I
can see myself! I can see myself !”

“T don’t care at all about that,” said Gerda.
“You need not tell me that.”

And then she ran to the end of the garden.
The door was locked, but she pressed against the
rusty lock, and it broke off, the door sprang open,
and little Gerda ran with naked feet out into the
wide world. She looked back three times, but no
one was there to pursue her; at last she could run
no longer, and seated herself on a great stone, and
when she looked round the summer was over—
it was late in autumn: one could not notice that
in the beautiful garden, where there was always
sunshine, and the flowers of every season always
bloomed. ;

< Alas! how I have loitered !”’ said little Gerda.
« Autumn has come. I may not rest again.”

And she rose up to go on. Oh! how sore and
tired her little feet were. All around it looked
cold and bleak ; the long willow leaves were quite
yellow, and the dew fell down like water; one leaf
The Snow Queen. Pa,

after another dropped; only the sloe-thorn still
bore fruit, but the sloes were sour, and set the
teeth on edge. Oh! how grey and gloomy it
looked, the wide world!

FOURTH STORY.

The Prince and Princess.

GzERDA was compelled to rest again; then there
came hopping across the snow, just opposite the
spot where she was sitting, a great Crow. This
Crow stopped a long time to look at her, nodding
its head—now it said, “ Krah! krah! Good day!
good day !”” It could not pronounce better, but it
felt friendly towards the little girl, and asked where
she was going all alone im the wide world. The
word alone Gerda understood very well, and felt
how much it expressed, and she told the Crow the
whole story of her life and fortunes, and asked if
it had not seen Kay.

And the Crow nodded very gravely, and said,

«That may be ! that may be!”

“ What, do you think so?” cried the little girl,
and nearly pressed the Crow to death, she kissed it
so delightedly.
48 The Snow Queen.

“ Gently, gently !” said'the Crow. “I think I
know; I believe it may be little Kay, but he has
certainly forgotten you, with the Princess.”

“ Does he live with a Princess ?”” asked Gerda.

“ Yes; listen,” said the Crow. “ Butit’s so diffi-
cult for me to speak your language. If you know
the crows’ language, I can tell it much better.”

“No, I never learned it,” said Gerda; “ but
my grandmother understood it, and could speak
the language too. I only wish I had learned it.”

“That doesn’t matter,’ said the Crow. “ But
it will go badly.”

And then the Crow told what it knew.

“In the country in which we are now lives a
Princess who is quite wonderfully clever, but then
she has read all the newspapers in the world, and
has forgotten them again, she’s so clever. Lately
she was sitting on the throne—and that’s not so
pleasant as is generally supposed—and she began
to sing a song, and it was just this, ‘Why should
I not marry yet?’ You sce, there was something
in that,” said the Crow. “ And so she wanted to .
marry, but she wished for a husband who could
answer when he was spoken to, not one who only
stood and looked handsome, for that was weari-
some. Now she had all her maids of honour sum-








Gerda and the Crow.

moned, and when they heard her intention they
were very glad. ‘TJ like that, said they ; ‘I thought
the very thing the other day.’ You may be sure
that every word I’m telling you is true,” added
the Crow. ‘TI have a tame sweetheart who goes
about freely in the castle, and she told me every-
thing.”

Of course the sweetheart was a crow, for one
crow always finds out another, and birds of a
feather flock together.
80 The Snow Queen.

«Newspapers were published directly, with a
border of hearts and the Princess’s initials. One
could read in them that every young man who was
good looking might come to the castle and speak
with the Princess, and him who spoke so that one
could hear he was at home there, and who spoke
best, the Princess would choose for her husband.
Yes, yes,” said the Crow, “you may believe me.
It’s as true as I sit here. Young men came flock-
ing in ; there was a great crowding and much run-
ing to and fro, but no one succeeded the first or
second day. ‘They could all speak well when they _
were out in the streets, but when they entered at
the palace gates, and saw the guards standing in
their silver lace, and went up the staircase, and
saw the lackeys in their golden liveries, and the
great lighted halls, they became confused. And
when they stood before the throne itself, on which
the Princess sat, they could do nothing but repeat
the last word she had spoken, and she did not care
to hear her own words again. It was just as if the
people in there had taken some narcotic and fallen
asleep till they got into the street again, for not
till then were they able to speak. There stood a
whole row of them, from the town gate to the
palace gate. I went out myself to see it,” said
The Snow Queen. 81

the Crow. “ They were hungry and thirsty, but in
the palace they did not receive so much as a glass
of lukewarm water. A few of the wisest had
brought bread and butter with them, but they
would not share with their neighbours, for they
thought, ‘ Let him look hungry, and the Princess
won’t have him.’”

“ But Kay, little Kay ?” asked Gerda. “ When
did he come? Was he among the crowd ?”

“Wait, wait! We’re just coming to him. It
was on the third day that there came a little per-
sonage, without horse or carriage, walking quite
merrily up to the castle; his eyes sparkled like
yours, he had fine long hair, but his clothes were
shabby.”

“That was Kay!” cried Gerda, rejoicingly.
«Oh, then I have found him!” And she clapped
her hands.

“He had a little knapsack on his back,’ ob-
served the Crow.

“ No, that must certainly have been his sledge,”
said Gerda, “ for he went away with a sledge.’ .

«That may well be,” said the Crow, “for I did
not look to it very closely. But this much I know
from my tame sweetheart, that when he passed
under the palace gate and saw the Life Guards in

6 G
82 The Snow Queen.

silver, and mounted the staircase and saw all the
lackeys in gold, he was not in the least embar-
rassed. He nodded, and said to them, ‘ It must
be tedious work standing on the stairs—I 7d rather
go inside.’ The halls shone full of lights; Privy
Councillors and Excellencies walked about with
bare feet and carried golden vessels; any one
might have become solemn ; and his boots creaked
most noisily,,but he was not embarrassed.”

“That is certainly Kay!’ cried Gerda. “ He
had new boots on; I’ve heard them creak in
grandmother’s room.”

< Yes, certainly they creaked,’ resumed the
Crow. ‘And he went boldly in to the Princess
herself, who sat on a pearl that was as big as a
spinning-wheel ; and all the maids of honour with
their attendants and their attendants’ attendants,
and all the cavaliers with their followers, and the
followers of their followers, who themselves kept a
page apiece, were standing round ; and the nearer
they stood to the door, the prouder they looked.
The followers’ followers’ pages, who always went
in slippers, could hardly be looked at, so proudly
they stood in the doorway !”

«That must be terrible!” faltered little Gerda.
«And yet Kay won the Princess ?”
The Snow Queen. 83

“Tf I had not been born a crow, I would have
married her myself, notwithstanding that I am en-
gaged. They say he spoke as well as I can when
I speak the crows’ language; I heard that from
my tame sweetheart. He was merry and agrec-
able; he had not come to marry, but only to hear
the wisdom of the Princess; and he approved of
her, and she of him.”

“Yes, certainly that was Kay!’ said Gerda.
“¢ He was so clever, he could do mental arithmetic
up to fractions. Oh! won’t you lead me to the
castle too ?”

“That ’s easily said,” replied the Crow; “but -
how are we to manage it? I7Il talk it over with
my tame sweetheart; she can probably advise us :
for this I must tell you—a little girl like yourself
will never get leave to go completely in.”

“Yes, I shall get leave,” said Gerda. “ When
Kay hears that I’m there, he ’ll come out directly
and bring me in.”

“Wait for me yonder at the grating,” said the
Crow; and he wagged his head and flew away.

It was already late in the evening before the
Crow came back.

“Rax! rax!” he said. “I’m to greet you
‘Kindly from my sweetheart, and here’s a little

G2
84 The Snow Queen.

loaf for you. She took it from the kitchen. There’s
plenty of bread there, and you must be hungry.
You can’t possibly get into the palace, for you are
barefoot, and the guards in silver and the lackeys
in gold would not allow it. But don’t cry; you
shall go up. My sweetheart knows a little back
staircase that leads up to the bed-room, and she
knows where she can get the key.”

And they went into the garden, into the great
avenue where one leaf was falling down after an-
other; and when the lights were extinguished in
the palace one after the other, the Crow led Gerda
to a back door, which stood ajar.

Oh, how Gerda’s heart beat with fear and long-
ing! It was just as if she had been going to do
something wicked ; and yet she only wanted to
know if it was little Kay. Yes, it must be he;
she thought so deeply of his clear eyes and his
long hair, she could fancy she saw how he smiled
as he had smiled at home when they sat among
the roses. He would certainly be glad to see her ;
to hear what a long distance she had come for his
sake ; to know how sorry they had all been at home
when he did not come back. Oh, what a fear and
what a joy that was!

_ Now they were on the staircase. A little lamp
The Snow Queen. 85

was burning upon a cupboard; in the middle of
the floor stood the tame Crow, turning her head on
every side and looking at Gerda, who courtesied as
her grandmother had taught her to do.

«My betrothed has spoken to me very favour-
ably of you, my little lady,” said the tame Crow.
«Your history, as it may be called, is very moving.
Will you take the lamp? then I will precede you.
We will go the straight way, and then we shall
meet nobody.”

“T feel as if some one were coming after us,”
said Gerda, as something rushed past her: “it
seemed like a shadow on the wall; horses with
flying manes and thin legs, hunter: s; and ladies and
gentlemen on horseback.”

«These are only dreams,” said the Crow; “ they
are come to carry the high-born masters’ thoughts
out hunting. That’s all the better, for you may
look at them the more closelyin bed. But I hope
when you are taken into favour and get promotion
you will show a grateful heart.”

“Of that we may be sure,” observed the Crow
from the wood.

Now they came into the first hall: it was hung
with rose-coloured satin, and artificial flowers were
worked on the walls; and here the dreams came
86 The Snow Queen.

already flitting by them, but they moved so quickly
that Gerda could not see the high-born lords and
ladies. Each hall was more magnificent than the
last; yes, one could almost become bewildered !
Now they were in the bed-chamber. Here the
ceiling was like a great palm tree with leaves of
glass, of costly glass, and in the middle of the floor
two. beds hung on a thick stalk of gold, and each
of them looked like a lily. One of them was white,
and in that lay the Princess ; the other was red,
and in that Gerda was to seek little Kay. She
bent one of the red leaves aside, and then she saw
a little brown neck. Oh, that was Kay! She
called out his name quite loud, and held the lamp
towards him. “The dreams rushed into the room
again on horseback—he awoke, turned his head,
and—ait was not little Kay !

The Prince was only like him in the neck, -but
he was young and good looking; and the Princess
looked up, blinking, from the white lily, and asked
who was there. Then little Gerda wept, and told
her whole history, and all that the Crows had done
for her.

“You poor child,” said the Prince and Princess.

And they praised the Crows, and said that they
were not angry with them at all, but the Crows
The Snow Queen. 87

were not to do it again. However, they should
be rewarded.

“Will you fly out free,” asked the Princess,
“or will you have fixed positions as court crows,
with the right to everything that is left in the
kitchen ?”

And the two Crows bowed, and begged for fixed
positions, for they thought of their old age, and
said, “It is so good to have some provisions for
one’s old days,” as they called them.

And the Prince got up out of his bed, and let:
Gerda sleep in it, and he could not do more than
that. She folded her little hands, and thought,
“ How good men and animals are !”? and then she
shut her eyes and went quietly to sleep. All the
dreams came flying in again, looking like angels ;
and they drew a little sledge, on which Kay sat
nodding ; but all this was only a dream, and there-
fore it was gone again as soon as she awoke.

The next day she was clothed from head to foot
in velvet, and an offer was made to her that she
should stay in the castle and enjoy pleasant times ;
but she only begged for a little carriage, with a
horse to draw it, and a pair of little boots; then she
would drive out into the world and seek for Kay.

And she received not only boots, but a muff
88 The Snow Queen.

likewise, and she was neatly dressed; and when
she was ready to depart, a coach made of pure gold
stopped before the door. Upon it shone like a
star the coat of arms of the Prince and Princess ;
coachmen, footmen, and outriders (for there were
outriders too) sat on horseback with gold crowns
on their heads. The Prince and Princess them-
selves helped her into the carriage, and wished her
all good fortune. The forest Crow, who was now
married, accompanied her the first three miles;
he sat by Gerda’s side, for he could not bear riding
backwards. The other Crow stood in the door-
way flapping her wings; she did not go with them,
for she suffered from headache, that had come on
since she had obtained a fixed position and was
allowed to eat too much. The coach was lined
with sugar-biscuits, and in the seat there were
gingerbread-nuts and fruit.

“Farewell! farewell!’ cried the Prince and
Princess.

And little Gerda wept, and the Crow wept. So
they went on for the first three miles, and then
the Crow said good bye, and that was the heaviest
parting of all. The Crow flew up on a tree, and
beat his black wings as long as he could see the
coach, which glittered like the bright sunshine.
The Snow Queen. 89

FIFTH STORY.
The Little Robber Girl.

Tury drove on through the thick forest; but
the coach gleamed like a torch, that dazzled the
robbers’ eyes, and they could not bear it.

“That is gold! that is gold!” cried they, and
rushed forward and seized the horses, killed the
postillions, the coachman, and the footmen, and
then pulled little Gerda out of the carriage.

“ She is fat, she is pretty, she is fed with nut-
kernels,” said the old robber woman, who had a
very long matted beard and shaggy eyebrows that
hung down over her eyes. ‘“ She’s as good as a
little pet lamb; how I shall relish her !”’

And she drew out her shining knife, that gleamed
in a horrible way.

Oh!” screamed the old woman at the same
moment, for her own daughter, who hung at her
back, bit her ear in a very naughty and spiteful
manner. ‘You ugly brat!’ screamed the old
woman; and she had not time to kill Gerda.

“She shall play with me,” said the little robber
girl. “ She shall give me her muff and her pretty
dress, and sleep with me in my bed.”
go The Snow Queen.

And then the girl gave another bite, so that the
woman jumped high up and turned right round.
And all the robbers laughed, and said,

“ Look how she dances with her calf.”

“I want to go into the carriage,” said the little
robber girl.

And she would have her own way, for she was
spoiled and very obstinate ; and she and Gerda sat
in the carriage, and drove over stock and stone
deep into the forest. The little robber girl was as
big as Gerda, but stronger and more broad shoul-
dered; and she had a brown skin; her eyes were
quite black, and they looked almost mournful.
She clasped little Gerda round the waist, and said,

“They shall not kill you as long as I am not
angry with you. I suppose you are a Princess ?”’

“No,” replied Gerda.

And she told all that had happened to her, and
how fond she was of little Kay.

The robber girl looked at her quite seriously,
nodded slightly, and said,

“They shall not kill you even if I do get angry
with you, for then I will do it myself.’

And then she dried Gerda’s eyes, and put her
two hands into the beautiful muff that was so soft
and warm.
The Snow Queen. gI

Now the coach stopped, and they were in the
courtyard of a robber castle. It had burst from
the top to the ground; ravens and crows flew out
of the great holes; and big bulldogs —each of
which looked as if he could devour a man— .
jumped high up, but they did not bark, for that
was forbidden.

In the great old smoky hall a bright fire was.
burning upon the stone floor; the smoke passed
along under the ceiling, and had to seek an exit
for itself. A great cauldron of soup was boiling,
and hares and rabbits were roasting on the spit.

“You shall sleep to-night with me and all my
little animals,” said the robber gitl.

They got something to eat and drink, and then
went to a corner, where straw and carpets were
spread out. Above these sat on laths and perchcs
more than a hundred pigeons: they all seemed
asleep, but they turned slightly when the two little
girls came.

« All these belong to me,” said the little robber
girl; and she quickly seized one of the nearest,
held it by the feet, and shook it so that it flapped
its wings. “ Kiss it,” she cried, and beat it in
Gerda’s face. ‘There sit the wood rascals,” she
continued, pointing to a number of laths that had
a The Snow Queen.

been nailed in front of a hole in the wall. ‘Those
are wood rascals, those two; they fly away directly
if one does not keep them well locked up; and
here’s my old sweetheart ‘Ba.’”? And she pulled
- out by the horn a Reindeer, that was tied up and
had a polished copper ring round its neck. “‘ We’re
obliged to keep him tight too, or he’d run away
from us. Every morning I tickle his neck with a
sharp knife, and he’s very frightened at that.”

And the little girl drew a long knife from a cleft
in the wall and let it glide over the Reindeer’s neck.
The poor creature kicked out its legs, and the little
robber girl laughed, and drew Gerda into bed with
her.

“Do you keep the knife while you’re asleep?”
asked Gerda, and looked at it in rather a frightened
way.

“T always sleep with my knife,” replied the
little robber girl. ‘One does not know what may
happen. But now tell me again what you told me
just now about little Kay, and why you came out
mto the wide world ?”

And Gerda told it again from the beginning, and
the Wood Pigeons cooed above them in their cage,
and the other pigeons slept. The little robber girl
put her arm round Gerda’s neck, held her knife
The Snow Queen. 93

in the other hand, and slept so that one could hear
her; but Gerda could not close her eyes at all; she
did not know whether she was to live or to die.
The robbers sat round the fire, sang and drank,
and the old robber woman tumbled about. It was
quite terrible for a little girl to behold.

Then the Wood Pigeons said,

“Coo! coo! we have seen little Kay. A white —
owl was carrying his sledge: he sat in the Snow
Queen’s carriage, which drove close by the forest
as we lay in our warm nests. She blew upon us
young pigeons, and all died except us two. Coo!
coo!”

“What are you saying there?” asked Gerda.
“ Whither was the Snow Queen travelling? Do
you know anything about it ?””

“She was probably journeying to Lapland, for
there they always have ice and snow. Ask the
Reindeer that is tied to the cord.”

“« There is ice and snow yonder, and it is glorious
and fine,” said the Remdeer. ‘“‘' There one may
run about free in great glittering plains. There
the Snow Queen has her summer tent; but her
strong castle is up towards the North Pole, on the
island that’s called Spitzbergen.”

“Oh, Kay, little Kay!” cried Gerda.
94 The Snow Queen.

“ You must lie still,” exclaimed the robber girl,
“or I shall thrust my knife into your body.”

In the morning Gerda told her all that the
Wood Pigeons had said, and the little robber girl
looked quite serious, and nedded her head, and said,

“Thats all the same, that’s all the same. Do
you know where Lapland is?” she asked the Rein-
deer. ,

“Who should know better than 1?” the creature
replied, and its eyes sparkled in its head. “I was
born and bred there; I ran about there in the
snow-fields.”

“ Listen,” said the robber girl to Gerda. “ You
see all our men have gone away. Only mother is
here still, and shell stay ; but towards noon she
drinks out of the big bottle, and then she sleeps
for a little while ; then Ill do something for you.”

Then she sprang out of bed and clasped her mo-
ther round the neck, and pulled her beard, crying,

“ Good morning, my own old nanny-goat.”’

And her mother filliped her nose till it was red
and blue; and it was all done for pure love.

When the mother had drunk out of her bottle
and had gone to sleep upon it, the robber girl
went to the Reindeer, and said,,

“‘T should like very much to tickle you a few


Gerda preparing to start.

times more with the knife, for you are very funny
then; but it’s all the same. Ill loosen your cord
and help you out, so that you may run to Lapland;
but you must use your legs well, and carry this
96 The Snow Queen.

little girl to the palace of the Snow Queen, where
her playfellow is. You’ve heard what she told
me, for she spoke loud enough, and you were
listening.”

The Reindeer sprang up high for joy. The
robber girl lifted little Gerda on its back, and had
the forethought to tie her fast, and even to give
her her own little cushion as a saddle.

“There are your fur boots for you,” she said,
“for it’s growing cold; but I shall keep the muff,
for that’s so very pretty. Still, you shall not be
cold, for all that: here’s my mother’s big mufiles,
they “Il just reach up to your elbows. Creep in.
Now you look in the hands just like my ugly
mother.”

And Gerda wept for joy.

“‘T can’t bear to see you whimper,” said the
little robber girl. “No, you just ought to look
very glad; and here are two loaves and a ham for
you; now you won’t be hungry.”

These were tied on the Reindeer’s back. The
little robber girl opened the door, coaxed in all
the big dogs, and then cut the rope with her sharp
knife, and said to the Reindeer,

“Now run, but take good care of the little girl.”

And Gerda stretched out her hands with the
The Snow Queen. 97

big muffles towards the little robber girl, and said,
“ Farewell |”

And the Reindeer ran over stock and stone away
through the great forest, over marshes and steppes,
as quick as it could go. The wolves howled and
the ravens croaked. “ Hiss! hiss!” it went in the
air. It seemed as if the sky were flashing fire.

“Those are my old Northern Lights,” said the
Reimdeer. <“ Look how they glow.”

And then it ran on faster than ever, day and
night. The loaves were eaten, and the ham too;
and then they were in Lapland.

SIXTH STORY.
The Lapland Woman and the Finland Woman.

Av alittle hut they stopped. It was very humble;
the roof sloped down almost to the ground, and
the door was so low that the family had to creep
on their stomachs when they wanted to go in or
out. No one was in the house but an old Lapland
woman, cooking fish by the light of a train-oil
lamp; and the Reindeer told Gerda’s whole his-
tory, but it related its own first, for this seemed to
the Reindeer the more important of the two; and

6 BH
98 The Snow Queen.

Gerda was so exhausted by the cold that she
could not speak.

“Oh, you poor things!” said the old Lapland
woman, “you have a long way to run yet. You
must go more than a hundred miles into Finland,
for the Snow Queen is there, staying in the coun-
try, and burning Bengal lights every evening. II]
write a few words on a dried cod, for I have no
paper, and ill give you that as a letter to the Fin-
land woman ; she can give you better information
than I.”

And when Gerda had been warmed and refreshed
with food and drink, the Lapland woman wrote a
few words on a dried codfish; and telling Gerda to
take care of these, tied her again on the Reindeer,
and the Reindeer sprang away. Flash! flash! it
went high in the air; the whole night long the
most beautiful blue Northern Lights were burning.

And then they got to Finmark, and knocked at
the chimney of the Finland woman, for she had
not eyen a hut.

There was such a heat in the chimney that the
woman herself went about almost naked. She at
once loosened little Gerda’s dress, and took off
the child’s mufflers and boots, otherwise it would
have been too hot for her to bear. Then she laid
The Snow Queen. 99

a piece of ice on the Reindeer’s head, and read
what was written on the codfish; she read it three
times, and then she knew it by heart, and popped
the fish into the soup-cauldron, for it was eatable,
and she never wasted anything.

Again the Reindeer first told his own history,
and then little Gerda’s; and the Finland woman
blinked with her clever eyes, but said nothing.

“ You are very clever,” said the Reindeer: “I
know you can tie all the winds of the world to-
gether with a bit of twine: if the seaman unties
one knot, he has a good wind; if he loosens -the
second, it blows hard; but if he unties the third
and the fourth, there comes such a tempest that
the forests are thrown down. Won’t you give the
little girl a draught, so that she may get twelve
men’s power, and overcome the Snow Queen ?”

“Twelve men’s power !”’ repeated the Finland
woman. “ Great use that would be!”

And she went to a bed, and brought out a great
rolled-up fur, and unrolled it. Wonderful charac-
ters were written upon it; and the Finland woman
read until the water ran down over her forehead.

But the Reindeer again begged so hard for little
Gerda, and Gerda looked at the Finland woman
with such beseeching eyes full of tears, that she

H2
100 The Snow Queen.

began to blink again with her own, and drew the
Reindeer into a corner, and whispered to him,
while she laid fresh ice on his head,

“Little Kay is certainly at the Sea Queen’s,
and finds everything there to his taste and liking,
and thinks it the best place in the world; but that
is because he has a splinter of glass m his eye and
a little fragment in his heart; but these must be
got out, or he will never be a human being again,
and the Sea Queen will keep her power over him.”

“ But cannot you give something to little Gerda,
so as to give her power over all this ?”

“JT can give her no greater power than she
possesses already. Don’t you see how great that
is? Don’t you see how men and animals are
obliged to serve her, and how she gets on so well
in the world with her naked feet? She cannot
receive her power from us: it consists in this, that
she is a dear innocent child. If she herself cannot
penetrate to the Snow Queen and get the glass
out of little Kay, we can be of no use. Two miles
from here the Snow Queen’s garden begins; you
can carry the little girl thither: set her down by
the great bush that stands with its red berries in
the snow ; don’t stand gossipping, but make haste,
and get back here.”










Gerda travelling in Lapland.

And then the Finland woman lifted little Gerda
on the Reindeer, which ran as fast as it could.

“Oh, I haven’t my boots! I haven’t my
mufflers !” cried little Gerda.

She soon noticed that in the cutting cold; but
the Reindeer dare not stop; it ran till it came to
the bush with the red berries; there it set Gerda
down, and kissed her on the mouth, and great
bright tears ran over the creature’s cheeks; and
then it ran back as fast as it could. There stood
102 The Snow Queen.

poor Gerda without shoes, without gloves, in the
midst of the terrible cold Finmark.

She ran forward as fast as possible. Then came
a whole regiment of snow-flakes ; but they did not
fall down from the sky, for that was quite bright
and shone with the Northern Light; the snow-
flakes ran along the ground, and the nearer they
came the larger they grew. Gerda still remembered
how large and beautiful the snow-flakes had ap-
peared when she looked at them through the burn-
img-glass. But here they were certainly far larger
and much more terrible; they were alive; they
were the advanced posts of the Snow Queen, and
had the strangest shapes. A few looked like ugly
great porcupines; others like knots formed of
snakes, which stretched forth their heads; and
others like little fat bears, whose hair stood on
end: all were brilliantly white, all were living
snow-flakes.

Then little Gerda said her prayer ; and the cold
was so great that she could see her own breath,
which went forth out of her mouth like smoke.
The breath became thicker and thicker, and formed
itself into little angeis, who grew and grew when-
ever they touched the earth; and all had helmets
on their heads and shields and spears in their
The Snow Queen. 103

hands. Their number increased more and more;
and when Gerda had finished her prayer, a whole:
legion stood round about her. They struck with
their spears at the terrible snow-flakes, so that
these shattered into a thousand pieces, and little
Gerda could go forward afresh with good courage.
The angels stroked her hands and feet, and then
she felt less how cold it was, and hastened on to
the Snow Queen’s palace.

But now we must see what Kay is doing. He
certainly was not thinking of little Gerda, and
least of all that she was standing in front of the
palace.

SEVENTH STORY.

Of the Snow Queen's Castle, and what happened
there at last.

Tue walls of the palace were formed of the
drifting snow; and the windows and doors of the
cutting winds; there were more than a hundred
halls, all blown together by the snow: the greatest
of these extended for several miles; the strong
Northern Light illumined them all, and how great
and empty, how icily cold and shining they all
were! Never was merriment here, not even a
104. The Snow Queen.

little bear’s ball, at which the storm could have
played the music, while the bears walked about on
their hind legs and showed off their pretty man-
ners; never any little sport of mouth-slapping or
bars-touch ; never a little coffee gossip among the
young lady white foxes. Empty, vast, and cold
were the halls of the Snow Queen. The Northern
lights flamed so brightly that one could count
them where they stood highest and lowest. In the
midst of this empty snow hall was a frozen lake,
which had burst into a thousand pieces ; but each
piece was like the rest, so that it was a perfect
work of art; and in the middle of the frozen lake
sat the Snow Queen when she was at home; and
then she said that she sat in the mirror of reason,
and that this was the only one, and the best in the
world.

Little Kay was quite blue with cold—indeed,
almost black ; but he did not notice it, for she had
kissed the cold shudderings away from him, and
his heart was like a lump of ice. He dragged a
few sharp flat pieces of ice to and fro, joining them
together in all kinds of ways, for he wanted to
achieve something with them. It was just like
when we have little tablets of wood, and lay them
together to form figures—what we call the Chinese
The Snow Queen. 105

game. Kay also went and laid figures, and, in=
deed, very artistic ones. That was the icy game
of reason. In his eyes these figures were very
remarkable and of the highest importance; that
was because of the fragment of glass sticking in
his eye. He laid out the figures so that they
formed a word, but he could never manage to lay
down the word as he wished to have it—the word
“ Kiternity.” And the Snow Queen had said,

“Tf you can find out this figure, you shall be:
your own master, and I will give you the whole:
world and a new pair of skates.”

But he could not. :

“ Now I’ll hasten away to the warm lands,”
said the Snow Queen. ‘I will go and look into
the black pots:” these were the volcanoes, Etna
and Vesuvius as they are called. “TI shall make
them a little white! that’s necessary ; that will do:
the grapes and lemons good.”

And the Snow Queen flew away, and Kay sat
quite alone in the great icy hall that was miles in:
extent, and looked at his pieces of ice, and thought
so deeply that cracks were heard inside him ; one
would have thought that he was frozen.

Then it happened that little Gerda stepped
through the great gate into the wide hall. Here-
106 The Snow Queen.

reigned cutting winds, but she prayed a prayer, and
the winds lay down as if they would have gone to
sleep; and she stepped into the great empty cold
halls, and beheld Kay: she knew him, and flew to
him, and embraced him, and held him fast, and
called out— .

“Kay, dear little Kay! at last I have found
you!”

But he sat quite still, stiff and cold. Then little
Gerda wept hot tears, that fell upon his breast ;
they penetrated into his heart, they thawed the
lump of ice, and consumed the little piece of glass
in it. He looked at her, and she sang—

“Roses bloom and roses decay,
But we the Christ-child shall see one day.”

Then Kay burst into tears; he wept so that the
splinter of glass came out of his eye. Now he re-
cognized her, and cried rejoicingly—

“Gerda, dear Gerda! where have you been all
this time?. And where have I been?” And he
looked around him. ‘ How cold it is here! how
large and void !”

And he clung to Gerda, and she laughed and
wept for joy. It was so glorious that even the
pieces of ice round about danced for joy ; and when






Gerda and Kay returning home.

they were tired and lay down, they formed them-
selves just into the letters of which the Snow Queen
had said that if he found them out he should be
his own master, and she would give him the whole
world and a new pair of skates.

And Gerda kissed his cheeks, and they became
blooming ; she kissed his eyes, and they shone like
her own; she kissed his hands and feet, and he
became well and merry. The Snow Queen might
108 | ~The Snow Queen,

now come home ; his letter of release stood written
in shining characters of ice.

And they took one another by the hand, and
wandered forth from the great palace of ice. They
spoke of the grandmother, and of the roses on the ~
roof; and where they went the winds rested and
the sun burst forth; and when they came to the
bush with the red berries, the Reindeer was stand- |
ing there waiting; it had brought another young
reindeer, which gave the children warm milk and
kissed them on the mouth. Then they carried
Kay and Gerda, first to the Finnish woman, where
they warmed themselves thoroughly in the hot
room, and received instructions for their joyrney
home; and then to the Lapland woman, who had.
made their new clothes and put their sledge in
order. |

The Reindeer and the young one ran at their
side, and followed them as far as the boundary of
the country. There the first green sprouted forth,
and there they took leave of the two reindeers and
the Lapland woman. “ Farewell!” said all. And:
the first little birds began to twitter, the forest was
decked with green buds, and out of it on a beautiful
horse (which Gerda knew, for it was the same that.
had drawn her golden coach) a young girl came
The Snow Queen. ~ 8e@

riding, with a shining red cap on her head and a
pair of pistols in the holsters. This was the little
robber girl, who had grown tired of staying at
-home, and wished to go first to the north, and if
that did not suit her, to some other region. She
knew Gerda at once, and Gerda knew her too;
and it was a right merry meeting.

“You are a fine fellow to gad about!” she said
to little Kay. “I should like to know if you de-
serve that one should run to the end of the world
after you?”

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

“They ’ve gone to foreign countries,” said the
robber gil.

“ But the Crow?” said Gerda.

“Why, the Crow is dead,” answered the other.
“The tame one has become a widow, and goes
about with an end of black worsted thread round
her leg. She complains most lamentably, but it’s
all talk. But now tell me how you have fared,
and how you caught him.”

And Gerda and Kay told their story.

“Snipp-snapp-snurre-purre-basellurre!”’ said the
robber girl; and she took them both by the hand,
and promised that if she ever came through their
110 The Snow Queen.

town, she would come up and pay them a visit.
And then she rode away into the wide world. But
Gerda and Kay went hand in hand, and as they
went it became beautiful spring, with green and
with flowers. The church bells sounded, and they
recognized the high steeples and the great town:
it was the one in which they lived; and they went
to the grandmother’s door, and up the stairs, and
into the room, where everything remained in its
usual place. The big clock was going “Tick!
tack !”’ and the hands were turning; but as they
went through the rooms they noticed that they
had become grown-up people. The roses out of
the roof gutter were blooming in at the open win-
dow, and there stood the little children’s chairs,
and Kay and Gerda sat each upon their own, and
held each other by the hand. They had forgotten
the cold empty splendour at the Snow Queen’s
like a heavy dream. The grandmother was sitting
in God’s bright sunshine, and read aloud out of
the Bible,

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

And Kay and Gerda looked into each other’s
eyes, and all at once they understood the meaning
of the old song,
The Neighlouring Families. 111

“ Roses bloom and roses decay,
But we the Christ-child shall see one day.”
There they both sat, grown up, and yet children
—children in heart—and it was summer, warm,
delightful summer.

THE NEIGHBOURING FAMILIES.

‘@ NE would really have thought that some-
MSAA thing important was going on by the duck-
pond; but nothing was going on. All the ducks
lying quietly upon the water, or standing on their
heads in it—for they could do that—swam sud-
denly to the shore. One could see the traces of
their feet on the wet earth, and their quacking
sounded far and wide. The water, lately as clear
and bright as a mirror, was quite in a commotion.
Before, every tree, every neighbouring bush, the
old farm-house with the holes in the roof and the
swallow’s nest, and especially the great rose bush
covered with flowers, had been mirrored in it. This
112 The Neighbouring Families.

rose bush covered the wall and hung over the
water, in which everything appeared as in a pic-
ture, only that everything stood on its head; but
when the water was set in motion everything swam
away, and the picture was gone. Two feathers, —
which the fluttering ducks had lost, floated to and
fro, and all at once they took a start, as if the
wind were coming; but the wind did not come,
so they had to be still, and the water became quiet
and smooth again. The Roses mirrored themselves
in it again; they were beautiful, but they did not
know it, for no one had told them. The bright
_ sun shone among the delicate leaves ; everything
breathed in the sweet fragrance, and all felt as we
feel when we are filled with the tee of our
greatest happiness.

“ How beautiful is life !’” said each Rose. “ Only
one thing I wish, that I were able to kiss the sun,
because it is so bright and so warm. ‘The roses,
too, in the water yonder, our images, I should like
to kiss, and the pretty birds in the nests. There
are some up yonder too; they thrust out their
heads and pipe quite feebly ; they have no feathers
yet like their father and mother. They are good
“neighbours, below and above. How beautiful is
hfe | °?


The Neighbouring Families. Tg

The young ones above and below: those below
are certainly only shadows in the water — mere
Sparrows; their parents were Sparrows too; they
had taken possession of the empty swallow’s nest
of last year, and kept house in it as if it had been
their own.





















The Duck-Pond.

“ Are those ducks’ children swimming yonder ?”’
asked the young Sparrows, when they noticed the |
ducks’ feathers upon the water.

“Tf you must ask questions, ask sensible ones,”’
replied the mother. ‘ Don’t you see that they are
feathers? living clothes, stuff like I wear, and like

6 I
114 The Neighbouring Families.

you will wear; but ours is finer. I wish, by the
way, we had those up here in our nest, for they
keep one warm. I wonder what the ducks were
so frightened at. Not at us, certainly, though I
said ‘Piep’ to you rather loudly. Those thick-
headed roses ought to know it; but they know
nothing ; they only look at one another and smell.
I’m very tired of those neighbours.”

« Just. listen to those darling birds up there,”
said the Roses. ‘‘ They begin to want to sing, but
are not able yet. But it will be managed in time.
What a pleasure that must be. It’s nice to have
such merry neighbours.”

Suddenly two horses came gallopping to water.
A peasant boy rode on one; he had taken off all
his clothes, except his big broad straw hat. The
boy whistled like a bird, and rode into the pond
where it was deepest, and when he came past the
rose bush he plucked a rose, and put it upon his
hat. And now he thought he looked very fine,
and rode on. The other Roses looked after their
sister, and said to each other, ‘“ Whither may she
be journeying?” but they did not know.

“J should like to go out into the world,” said
one; “but it’s beautiful, too, here at home among
the green leaves. All day the sun shines warm and
The Neighbouring Families. Lig

bright, and in the night-time the blue sky is more
beautiful still; we can see that through the many
little holes in it.”

They meant the stars, but they knew no better.

«We make it lively about the house,”’ said the
Mother-Sparrow; “and ‘ the swallow’s nest brings
luck,’ people say, and so they ’re glad to see us.
But the neighbours! Such a rose bush climbing
up the wall causes damp. It will most likely be
taken away ; and then, at least, corn will perhaps
grow here. ‘The roses are fit for nothing but to be
looked at, or at most one may be stuck on a hat.
Every year, I know from my mother, they fall
off. The farmer’s wife preserves them, and puts
salt among them; then they get a French name
that I neither can nor will pronounce, and are put
upon the fire to make a good smell. Yousee, that’s
their life. Theyre only for the eye and the nose.
Now you know it.”

When the evening came, and the gnats played
in the warm air and the red clouds, the nightingale
came and sang to the Roses, saying that the beau-
tiful was like sunshine to the world, and that the
beautiful lived forever. But the Roses thought the
nightingale was singing of itself, and indeed one
might easily have thought so; they never imagined

12
116 The Neighbouring Families.

that the song was about them. But they rejoiced
greatly in it, and considered whether all the little
Sparrows might become nightingales.

““T understood the song of that bird very well,”
said the young Sparrows; “only one word was not
clear. What is the beautiful 2”

“That ’s nothing at all,” replied the Mother-
Sparrow; “that’s only an outside affair. Yonder
at. the nobleman’s seat, where the pigeons have their
own house, and have corn and peas strewn before
them every day—lI’ve been there myself and dined
with them; for tell me what company you keep,
and I 711 tell you who you are—yonder at the noble-
man’s seat there are two birds with green necks
and a crest upon their head ; they can spread out
their tails like a great shell, and then it plays with
various colours, so that the sight makes one’s eyes
ache. These birds are called peacocks, and that’s
the beautiful. They should only be plucked a little,
then they would look no better than all the rest of
us. I should have plucked them myself if they
had not been so large.”

not any feathers yet.

In the farm-house dwelt two young married
people ; they loved each other well, were indus-
The Neighbouring Families. 117

trious and active, and everything in their home
looked very pretty. One Sunday morning the
young wife came out, plucked a hand-full of the
most beautiful roses, and put them into a glass of
water, which she put upon the cupboard.

“ Now I see that it is Sunday,” said the husband,
and he kissed his little wife.

They sat down, read their hymn-book, and held
each other by the hand; and the sun shone on the
fresh roses and the young couple.

“This sight is really too wearisome,” said the
Mother-Sparrow, who could look from the nest
into the room ; and she flew away.

The same thing happened the next Sunday, for
every Sunday fresh roses were placed in the glass ;
but the rose bush bloomed as beautiful as ever.

The young Sparrows had feathers now, and
wanted to fly out too, but the mother would not
allow it, and they were obliged to stay at home.
She flew alone; but, however it may have happened,
before she was aware of it, she was entangled in a
noose of horse-hair which some boys had fastened
to the branches. The horse-hair wound itself fast
round her legs, as fast as if it would cut the leg
through. What pain, and what a dreadful fright
she was in!
118 The Neighbouring Families.

The boys came running up, and seized the bird
and indeed roughly enough.

“‘Tt’s only a sparrow,” said they; but they did
not let her go, but took her home with them. And
whenever she cried, they tapped her on the beak.

In the farm-house stood an old man who under-
stood making soap for shaving and washing, in
cakes as well as in balls. He was a merry wander-
ing old man. When he saw the Sparrows which
the boys had brought, and for which they said they
did not care, he said,

“Shall we make it very beautiful ?”

The Mother-Sparrow felt an icy shudder pass
through her.

Out of the box, in which were the most brilliant
colours, the old man took a quantity of shining
gold leaf, and the boys were sent for some white
of egg, with which the sparrow was completely
smeared; the gold leaf was stuck upon that, and
there was the Mother-Sparrow beautifully gilded.
She did not think of the adornment, but trembled
all over. And the soap-man tore off a fragment
from the red lining of his old jacket, cut notches
in it, so that it looked like a cock’s comb, and
stuck it on the bird’s head.

“* Now you shall see the gold jacket fly,” said
The Neighlouring Families. 11g

the old man ; and he released the Sparrow, which
flew away in deadly fear, with the sunlight shining
upon her.

How she glittered! All the sparrows, and even
a crow, a knowing old boy, were startled at the
sight ; but still they flew after her, to know what
kind of strange bird this might be.

Driven by fear and horror, she flew homeward ;
she was nearly sinking powerless to the earth ; the
flock of pursuing birds increased, and some even
tried to peck at her.

“ Look at her! look at her!” they all cried.

“ Look at her! look at her!” cried the young
ones, when the Mother-Sparrow approached the
nest. “That must be a young peacock. She
glitters with all manner of colours. It quite hurts
one’s eyes, as mother told us. Piep! that’s the
beautiful !”’

And now they pecked at the bird with their little
beaks, so that she could not possibly get into the
nest ; she was so much exhausted that she could
not even say ‘‘ Piep!” much less “I am your
mother!” The other birds also fell upon the
Sparrow, and plucked off feather after feather till
she fell bleeding into the rose bush.

«You poor creature!” said all the Roses: “be
120 ©The Neighbouring Families.

quiet, we will hide you! Lean your head against
us !”

The Sparrow spread out her wings once more,
then drew them tight to her body, and lay dead
by the neighbouring family, the beautiful fresh
Roses.

“ Piep!” sounded from the nest. ‘‘ Where can
our mother be? It’s quite inexplicable. It cannot
be a trick of hers, and mean that we’re to shift
for ourselves: she has left us the house as an in-
heritance, but to which of us shall it belong when
we have families of our own ?”

‘Yes, it won’t do for you to stay with me when
I enlarge my establishment with a wife and chil-
dren,” observed the smallest.

“T shall have more wives and children than you,”
eried the second.

“ But I am the eldest!” said the third.

Now they all become excited. They struck out
with their wings, hacked with their beaks, and
flump ! one after another was thrust out of the nest.
There they lay with their anger: they held their
heads on one side, and blinked with the eye that
looked upwards. That was their way to look so
stupid.

They could fly a little, and by practice they im-
The Neighbouring Families. 121

proved, till at last they fixed upon a sign by which
they should know each other when they met later
out in the world. This sign was to be the cry of
“ Piep,” with a scratching of the left foot three
times against the ground.

The young Sparrow that had remained behind
in the nest made itself as broad as it possibly
could, for it was the proprietor. But the pro-
prietorship did not last long. In the night the
red fire burst through the windows, the flames
seized upon the roof, the dry straw blazed brightly
up, the whole house was burned, and the young
Sparrow too; but the two others who wanted to
marry managed to escape with their lives.

When the sun rose again, and everything looked
as much refreshed as if nature had had a quiet
sleep, there remained of the farm-house nothing
but a few charred beams, leaning against the
chimney that was now its own master. Thick
smoke still rose from among the fragments, but
without stood the rose bush quite unharmed, and
every flower, every twig was immersed in the clear
water.

““ How beautifully those roses bloom before the
ruined house !”’ cried a passer by. ‘I cannot ima-
gine a more agreeable picture. I must have that.”
122 The Neighbouring Families.

And the man took out of his portfolio a little
book with white leaves: he was a painter, and with
his pencil he drew the smoking house, the charred
beams, and the overhanging chimney, which bent
more and more; quite in the foreground appeared
the blooming rose bush, which presented a charm-
ing sight, and indeed for its sake the whole picture
had been made.

Later in the day, the two Sparrows that had
been born here came by.

“ Where is the house?” asked they. “‘ Where
is the nest? Piep! Allis burned, and our strong
brother is burned too. That’s what he has got by
keeping the nest to himself. The roses have es-
caped well enough, there they stand yet, with their
red cheeks. They certainly don’t mourn at their
neighbour’s misfortune. I won’t speak to them,
it’s so ugly here, that’s my opinion.”

And it flew up and away.

On a beautiful sunny autumn day, when one
could almost have believed it was the middle of
summer, there hopped about in the clean dry court-
yard of the nobleman’s seat, in front of the great
steps, a number of Pigeons, black, and white, and
variegated, all shining in the sunlight. The old
Mother-Pigeons said to their young ones,


The Painter sketching the Rose Bush.

“Stand in groups, stand in groups, for that
looks much better.”

“ What are those little grey creatures, that run
about behind us?” asked an old Pigeon, with red
124 The Neighlouring Families.

and green in her eyes. “ Little grey ones, little
grey ones !’’ she cried. :

“They are sparrows, good creatures. We have
always had the reputation of being kind, so we
will allow them to pick up the corn with us. They
-don’t interrupt conversation, and they make such
pretty courtesies.”

Yes, they courtesied three times each with the
left leg, and said “‘ Piep.” By that they recognized
each other as the Sparrows from the nest by the
burned house.

_ “ Here’s very good eating,’’ said the Sparrows.
_ The Pigeons strutted round one another, bulged
-out their chests mightly, and had their own secret
~-views and Opinions on things in general.
“Do you see that pouter pigeon?” said one,
speaking to the others. ‘Do you sce that one,
swallowing the peas? She takes too many, and
the best, moreover. Curoo! curoo! How she lifts
up her crest, the ugly —— old thing! Curoo!
-curoo |!”

And all their eyes sparkled with spite.
_ “Stand in groups, stand in groups! Little grey
‘ones, little grey ones! Curoo! curoo!”’
So their beaks went on and on, and so they will
»go on when a thousand years are gone.

e
The Neighbouring Families. 12
Oo Oo

The Sparrows feasted bravely. They listened
attentively, and even stood in the ranks of the
Pigeons, but it did not suit them well. They
were satisfied, and so they quitted the Pigeons,
exchanged opinions concerning them, slipped under
the garden railings, and when they found the door
of the garden open, one of them, who was over-fed,
and consequently valorous, hopped up on to the
threshold.

“ Piep!” said he, “I may venture that.”

“ Piep !” said the other, “‘so can I, and some-
thing more too.”

And he hopped into the room. No one was pre-
sent ; the third Sparrow saw that, and hopped still
farther into the room, and said,

“Everything or nothing! By the way, this is a
funny man’s-nest, and what have they put up here?
What’s that? ”

Just in front of the Sparrows the roses were
blooming: they were mirrored in the water, and
the charred beams leaned against the toppling
chimney.

«Why, what is this? How come this in the
room in the nobleman’s seat ? ””

And then these Sparrows wanted to fly over the
chimney and the roses, but flew against a flat wall.
126 The Neighbouring Families.

It was all a picture, a great beautiful picture, that
the painter had completed from a sketch.

only looks like something. Piep! that’s the beau-
tiful! Can you understand it? J can’t.”

And they flew away, for some people came into
the room. :

Days and years went by. The Pigeons had often
cooed, not to say growled, the spiteful things ; the
Sparrows had suffered cold in winter and lived
riotously in summer ; they were all betrothed or
married, or whatever you like to call it. They had
little ones, and of course each thought his own the
handsomest and the cleverest: one flew this way,
another that, and when they met they knew each
other by their “ Piep” and the three courtesies
with the left leg. The eldest had remained a
maiden Sparrow, with no nest and no young ones.
Her great idea was to see a town, therefore she
flew to Copenhagen.

There was to be seen a great house painted with
many colours, close by the castle and by the canal,
in which latter swam many ships laden with apples
and pottery. The windows were broader’ below
than at the top, and when the Sparrows looked
through, every room appeared to them like a tulip
The Neighbouring Families. 127

with the most beautiful colours and shades. But
in the middle of the tulip were white people, made
of marble ; a few certainly were made of plaster,
but, im the eyes of a sparrow, that’s all the same.
Upon the roof stood a metal carriage, with metal
horses harnessed to it, and the Goddess of Victory,
also of bronze, driving. It was THorwaLpsEn’s
Museum.

“ How it shines! how it shines !” said the little
maiden Sparrow. “I suppose that’s what they
call the beautiful. Piep! But this is greater than
the peacock !””

It still remembered what, in its days of child-
hood, the Mother-Sparrow had declared to be the
greatest among the beautiful. The Sparrow flew
down into the courtyard. There everything was
very splendid; upon the walls palms and branches
were painted; in the midst of the court stood a
great blooming rose tree, spreading out its fresh
branches, covered with many roses, over a grave.
Thither the maiden Sparrow flew, for there she
saw many of her own kind. “ Piep!” and three
courtesies with the left leg—that salutation it had
often made throughout the summer, and nobody
had replied, for friends who are once parted don’t
meet every day; and now this form of greeting had
128 The Neighbouring Families.

become quite a habit with it. But to-day two old
Sparrows and a young one replied “ Piep!” and
courtesied three times, each with the left leg.

“Ah! Good day! good day!” They were two
old ones from the nest, and a little one belonging
to the family. “Do we meet here again? It’s
a grand place, but there’s not much to eat. This
is the beautiful! Piep!”

And many people came out of the side chambers
where the glorious marble statues stood, and ap-
proached the grave where slept the great master
who had formed these marble images. All stood
with radiant faces by Thorwaldsen’s grave, and
some gathered up the fallen rose leaves and kept
them. They had come from afar: one from mighty
England, others from Germany and France. The
most beautiful among the ladies plucked one of the
roses and hid itim her bosom. Then the Sparrows
thought that the roses ruled here, and that the
whole house had been built for their sake; that
appeared to them to be too much; but as all the
people showed their love for the roses, they would
not be behindhand. “ Piep! piep!”? they said,
and swept the ground with their tails, and glanced
with one eye at the roses; and they had not looked
long at the flowers before they recognized them as
The Neightouring Families. 129

old neighbours. And so the roses really were.
The painter who had sketched the rose bush by
the ruined house had afterwards received permis-
sion to dig it up, and had given it to the architect,
for nowhere could more beautiful roses be found.
And the architect had planted it above Thor-
waldsen’s grave, where it bloomed, an image of the
beautiful, and gave its red fragrant leaves to be
carried into distant lands as mementoes.

« Have you found a situation here in the town ?”
asked the Sparrows.

And the Roses nodded; they recognized their
brown neighbours, and were glad to see them
again. “‘ How glorious it is to live and bloom, to
see old faces again, and cheerful faces every day !”

« Piep!” said the Sparrows. “ Yes, these are
truly our old neighbours ; we well remember their
origin by the pond. Piep! how they have got on!
Yes, some people succeed while they’re asleep!
Why, yonder is a withered leaf—I see it quite
plainly !”

And they pecked at it till the leaf fell. But
the tree stood there greener and fresher than ever ;
the Roses bloomed in the sunshine by Thorwald-
sen’s grave, and were associated with his immortal
name.

6 K


FIVE OUT OF ONE SHELL.

JHERE were five Peas m one shell: they
were green, and the pod was green, and so



‘Sey thought all the world was green; and that
was just as it should be! The shell grew, and
the Peas grew; they accommodated themselves to
circumstances, sitting all in a row. The sun shone
without, and warmed the husk, and the rain made
it clear and transparent ; 1t was mild and agree-
able in the bright day and in the dark night, just
as it should be, and the Peas as they sat there
became bigger and bigger, and more and more
thoughtful, for something they must do.

« Are we to sit here everlastingly ?”” asked one.
“‘1’m afraid we shall become hard by long sitting.
It seems to me there must be something outside
—I have a kind of inkling of it.”

And weeks went by. -The Peas became yellow,
and the pod turned yellow also.
Five out of One Shell. Tt

* All the world’s turning yellow,” said they;
and they had a right to say it.

Suddenly they felt a tug at the shell. The
shell was torn off, passed through human hands,
and glided down into the pocket of a jacket, in
company with other full pods.

«Now we shall soon be opened!” they said ;
and that is just what they were waiting for.

“JT should like to know who of us will get
farthest !”’ said the smallest of the five. “Yes,
now it will soon show itself.”

«What is to be, will be,” said the biggest.

Crack !—the pod burst, and all the five Peas
rolled out into the bright sunshine. There they
lay in a child’s hand. A little boy was clutching
them, and said they were fine peas for his pea-
shooter ; and he put one in directly and shot it out.

« Now I’m flying out into the wide world, catch
me if youcan!”? And he was gone.

“1,” said the second, “I shall fly straight into
the sun. TThat’s a shell worth looking at, and
one that exactly suits me.”’ And away he went.

«Well go to sleep wherever we arrive,” said
the two next, “ but we shall roll on all the same.”’
And they certainly rolled and tumbled down on
the ground before they got into the pea-shooter;

K 2
132 Five out of One Sheil.

but they were put in for all that. “ We shall go
farthest,” said they.

«What is to happen will happen!” said the
last, as he was shot forth out of the pea-shooter ;
and he flew up against the old board under the
garret window, just into a crack which was filled
up with moss and soft mould; and the moss
closed round him ; there he lay, a prisoner indeed,
but not forgotten by provident nature.

Within, in the little garret, lived a poor woman,
who went out in the day to clean stoves, chop
wood small, and to do other hard work of the

* same kind, for she was strong and industrious too,
but she always remained poor. And at home in
the garret lay her half-grown only daughter, who
was very delicate and weak: for a whole year she
had kept her bed, and it seemed as if she could
neither live nor die.

“She is going to her little sister,” the woman
said. “TI had only the two children, and it was
not an easy thing to provide for both, but the
good God provided for one of them by taking her
home to Himself; now I should be glad to keep
the other that was left to me; but I suppose they
are not to remain separated, and my sick girl will
go to her sister in heaven.”
ee

~

EEE
SZ

—
Lost

p-





























The poor Woman and her sick Daughter.
134 Five out of One Shell.

But the sick girl remained where she was ; she
lay quiet and patient all day long while her mother
went to earn money out of doors. It was spring,
and early in the morning, just as the mother was
about to go out to work, the sun shone mildly and
pleasantly through the little wmdow, and threw
its rays across the floor; and the sick girl fixed
her eyes on the lowest pane in the window.

“What may that green thing be that looks in
at the window? It is moving in the wind.”

And the mother stepped to the window, and
half opened it.

“Oh!” said she, “on my word, that is a little
pea which has taken root here, and is putting out
its little leaves. How can it have got here into
the crack? That is a little garden with which you
can amuse yourself.”

And the sick girl’s bed was moved nearer to the
window, so that she could always see the growing
pea; and then the mother went forth to her work.

“Mother, I think I shall get well,” said the
sick ‘child in the evening. “The sun shone in
upon me to-day, delightfully warm. The little
pea is prospering famously, and I shall prosper
too, and get up, and go out into the warm sun-
shine.”
Five out of One Shell. ae

“ God grant it!” said the mother, but she did
not believe it would be so; but she took care to
prop with a little stick the green plant which had
given her daughter the pleasant thoughts of life,
so that it might not be broken by the wind; she
tied a piece of string to the window-sill and to the
upper part of the frame, so that the pea might have
something round which it could twine, when it
shot up; and it did shoot up indeed—one could
see how it grew every day.

“ Really, here is a flower coming!” said the
woman one day.

And now she began to cherish the hope that
her sick daughter would recover. She remem-
bered that lately the maiden had spoken much
more cheerfully than before, that in the last few
days she had risen up in bed of her own accord,
and had sat upright, looking with delighted eyes
at the little garden in which only one plant grew.
A week afterwards the invalid for the first time
sat up for a whole hour. Quite happy, she sat
there in the warm sunshine; the window was
opened, and outside before it stood a pink pea
blossom, fully blown. The sick girl bent down
and gently kissed the delicate leaves. This day
was like a festival.
136 Five out of One Shelt.

“The Heavenly Father Himself has planted that
pea, and caused it to prosper, to be a joy to you,
and to me also, my blessed child!” said the glad
mother ; and she smiled at the flower as if it had
been a good angel.

But about the other Peas? Why, the one-who
flew out into the wide world, and said, “Catch me _
if you can,” fell into the gutter on the roof, and
found a home in a pigeon’s crop. The two lazy
ones got just as far, for they, too, were eaten up
by pigeons, and thus, at any rate, they were of
some real use; but the fourth, who wanted to go
up into the sun, fell into the sink, and lay there in
the dirty water for weeks and weeks, and swelled
prodigiously.

“* How beautifully fat I’m growing!” said the
Pea. “TI shall burst at last, and I don’t think any
pea can do more than that. I’m the most re-
markable of all the five that were in the shell.”

And the Sink said he was right.

But the young girl at the garret window stood
there with gleaming eyes, with the roseate hue of
health on her cheeks, and folded her thin hands
over the pea blossom, and thanked Heaven for it.

“T,’ said the Sink, “stand up for my own pea.”


THE BUCKWHEAT.

Keyes: after a thunder-storm, when. one
KSA passes a field in which buckwheat is grow-
ing, it appears quite blackened and singed. It is
just as if a flame of fire had passed across it; and
then the countryman says, “It got that from the
lightning.” But whence has it received that? I
will tell you what the sparrow told me about it,
and the sparrow heard it from an old Willow Tree
which stood by a Buckwheat field, and still stands
there. Itis quite a great venerable Willow Tree,
but crippled and old; it is burst in the middle,
~and grass and brambles grow out of the cleft ;
the tree bends forward, and the branches hang
quite down to the ground, as if they were long
green hair.

On all the fields round about corn was growing,
not only rye and barley, but also oats—yes, the
most capital oats, that when it’s ripe looks like a
number of little yellow canary birds, sitting upon
138 The Buckwheat.

a spray. The corn stood smiling, and the richer an
ear was, the deeper did it bend in pious humility.

But there was also a field of Buckwheat, and
this field was exactly opposite to the old Willow
Tree. The Buckwheat did not bend at-all, like the
rest of the grain, but stood up proudly and stiffly.

“17m as rich as any corn-ear,” said he. “ More-
over, 1’m very much handsomer: my flowers are
beautiful as the blossoms of the apple tree; it’s
quite a delight to look upon me and mine. Do
you know anything more splendid than we are,
you old Willow Tree?”

And the Willow Tree nodded his head, just as if
he would have said, “Yes, that’s true enough!”

But the Buckwheat spread itself out from mere
vainglory, and said,

“The stupid tree! he’s so old that the grass
grows in his body.”

Now a terrible storm came on. All the field
flowers folded their leaves together, or bowed their
little heads, while the storm passed over them, but
the Buckwheat stood erect in its pride.

“ Bend your head like us,” said the Flowers.

“‘T’ve not the slightest cause to do so,” replied
the Buckwheat.

“Bend your head as we do,”’ cried the various








The field of Buckwheat.

Crops. ‘Now the storm comes flymg on. He
has wings that reach from the clouds just down to
the earth, and he’ll beat you in halves before you
can ery for mercy.”
140 The Buchwheat.

“Yes; but I won’t bend,’ quoth the Buck-
wheat.

“Shut up your flowers and bend your leaves,”
said the old Willow Tree. “Don’t look up at the
lightning when the cloud bursts: even men may
not do that, for in the lightning one may look into
heaven, but the light dazzles even men ; and what
would happen to us, if we dared do so—we, the
plants of the field, that are much less worthy than
they ?”

“Much less worthy!” cried the Buckwheat.
“ Now [711 just look straight up into heaven.”

And it did so, in its pride and vainglory. It was
as if the whole world were on fire, so vivid was the
lightning.

When afterwards the bad weather had passed
by, the Flowers and the Crops stood in the still,
pure air, quite refreshed by the rain ; but the Buck-
wheat was burned coal-black by the lightning, and
it was now like a dead weed upon the field.

And the old Willow Tree waved its branches in
the wind, and great drops of water fell down out
of the green leaves, just as if the tree wept; and
the Sparrows asked,

“Why do you weep? Here everything is so
cheerful: see how the sun shines, see how the
The Rose-Eff. I4l

clouds sail on. Do you not breathe the scent of
flowers and bushes? Why do you weep, Willow
Tree?”

And the Willow Tree told them of the pride of
the Buckwheat, of its vainglory, and of the punish-
ment which always follows such sin.

I, who tell you this tale, have heard it from the
sparrows. They told it me one evening when I
begged them to give me a story.

THE ROSE-ELF.

EN the midst of the garden grew a rose bush,
which was quite covered with roses; and
in one of them, the most beautiful of all, there
dwelt an elf. He was so tiny that no human eye
could see him. Behind every leaf in the rose
he had a bed-room. He was as well formed and
beautiful as any child could be, and had wings
that reached from his shoulders to his feet. Oh,
what a fragrance there was in his rooms, and how


142 The Rose-Elf.

clear and bright were the walls! They were made
of the pale pink rose leaves.

The whole day he rejoiced in the warm sunshine,
flew from flower to flower, danced on the wings of
the flying butterfly, and measured how many steps
he would have to take to pass along all the roads
and cross-roads that are marked out on a single
hidden leaf. What we call veins on the leaf were
to him high roads and cross-roads. Yes, those
were long roads for him! Before he had finished
his journey the sun went down, for he had begun
his work too late.

It became very cold, the dew fell, and the wind
blew: now the best thing to be done was to come
home. He made what haste he could, but the rose
had shut itself up, and he could not get in; not a
single rose stood open. The poor little elf was
very much frightened. He had never been out at
night before, he had always slumbered sweetly and
comfortably behind the warm rose leaves. Oh, it
certainly would be the death of him !

At the other end of the garden there was, he
knew, an arbour of fine honeysuckle. The flowers
looked like great painted horns, and he wished to
go down into one of them to sleep till the next day.

He flew thither. Silence! two people were in
The Rose-Eff. 143

there—a handsome young man and a young girl.
They sat side by side, and wished that they need
never part. They loved each other better than a
good child loves its father and mother.

“Yet we must part!” said the young man.
“Your brother does not like us, therefore he sends
me away on an errand so far over mountains and
seas. Farewell, my sweet bride, for that you shall
be!”

And they kissed each other, and the young girl
wept, and gave him arose. But before she gave
it him, she impressed a kiss so firmly and closely
upon it that the flower opened. ‘Then the little
elf flew into it, and leaned his head against the
delicate fragrant walls. Here he could plainly
hear them say, “‘ Farewell! farewell !”’ and he felt
that the rose was placed on the young man’s heart.
Oh, how that heart beats! the little elf could not
go to sleep, it thumped so.

But not long did the rose rest undisturbed on
that breast. The man took it out, and as he went
lonely through the wood, he kissed the flower so
often and so fervently that the little elf was almost
erushed. He could feel through the leaf how the
man’s lips burned, and the rose itself had opened,
as if under the hottest noonday sun.
144 The Rose-E/f.

Then came another man, gloomy and wicked ;
he was the bad brother of the pretty maiden. He
drew out a sharp knife, and while the other kissed
the rose, the bad man stabbed him to death, and
then, cutting off his head, buried both head and
body in the soft earth under the linden tree.

“Now he’s forgotten and gone,” thought the
wicked brother; “he will never come back again.
He was to take a long journey over mountains and
seas. One can easily lose one’s life, and he has lost
his. He cannot come back again, and my sister

dare not ask news of him from me.”

Then with his feet he shuffled dry leaves over
the loose earth, and went home in the dark night.
But he did not go alone, as he thought; the little
elf accompanied him. ‘The elf sat in a dry rolled-
up linden leaf that had fallen on the wicked man’s
hair as he dug. The hat was now placed over the
leaf, and it was very dark in the hat, and the elf
trembled with fear and anger at the evil deed.

In the morning hour the bad man got home.
He took off his hat, and went into his sister’s
bed-room. ‘There lay the beautiful blooming girl,
dreaming of him whom she loved from her heart,
and of whom she now believed that he was gomg
across the mountains and through the forests.
The Rose- Elf. 145

Aud the wicked brother bent over her and laughed
hideously, as only a fiend can laugh. Then the
dry leaf fell out of his hair upon the coverlet, but
he did not remark it; and he went out to sleep a
little himself in the morning hour. But the elf
shipped forth from the withered leaf, placed himself
in the ear of the sleeping girl, and told her as in
a dream the dreadful history of the murder; de-
seribed to her the place where her brother had slain
her lover and buried his corpse; told her of the
blooming linden tree close by it, and said,

“That you may not think it is only a dream
that I have told you, you will find on your bed a
withered leaf ! °”

And she found it when she awoke. Oh, what
bitter tears she wept! The window stood open
the whole day: the little elf could easily get
out to the roses and all the other flowers, but
he could not find it in his heart to quit the
afflicted maiden. In the window stood a plant,
a monthly rose bush: he seated himself in one of
the flowers, and looked at the poor girl. Her
brother often came into the room, and, in spite
of his wicked deed, he always seemed cheerful,
but she dared not say a word of the grief that
was in her heart.

6 L
146 The Rose-Elf.

As soon as the night came she crept out of the
house, went to the wood, to the place where the
linden tree stood, removed the leaves from the
ground, turned up the earth, and immediately
found him who had been slain. Oh, how she
wept and prayed that she might soon die also!

Gladly would she have taken the corpse home
with her, but that she could not do. Then she
took the pale head with the closed eyes, kissed the
cold mouth, and shook the earth out of the beau-
tiful hair. “That I will keep,” she said. And
when she had laid earth upon the dead body, she
took the head, and a little sprig of the jasmine
that bloomed in the wood where he was buried,
home with her.

As soon as she came into her room, she brought
the greatest flower-pot she could find; in this she
laid the dead man’s head, strewed earth upon it,
and then planted the jasmine twig in the pot.

“Farewell! farewell!” whispered the little elf:
he could endure no longer to see all this pain, and
therefore flew out to his rose in the garden. But
the rose was faded — only a few pale leaves clung
to the wild bush.

*“ Alas! howsoon everything good and beautiful
passes away !”’ sighed the elf.
























i





Lhe Girl and the Flower-pot.

At last he found another rose, and this became
his house; behind its delicate fragrant leaves he
could hide himself and dwell.

Every morning he flew to the window of the

L2
148 The Rose-E/f.

poor girl, and she was always standing weeping
by the flower-pot. The bitter tears fell upon the
jasmine spray, and every day, as the girl became
paler and paler, the twig stood there fresher and
greener, one shoot after another sprouted forth,
little white buds burst out, and these she kissed.
But the bad brother scolded his sister, and asked
if she had gone mad. He could not bear it, and
could not imagine why she was always weeping
over the flower-pot. He did not know what closed
eyes were there, what red lips had there faded into
earth. And she bowed her head upon the flower-
pot, and the little elf of the rose bush found her
slumbering there. Then he seated himself in her
ear, told her of the evening in the arbour, of the
fragrance of the rose, and the love of the elves.
And she dreamed a marvellously sweet dream, and
while she dreamed her life passed away. She had
died a quiet death, and she was in heaven, with
him whom she loved.

And the jasmine opened its great white bells.
They smelt quite peculiarly sweet; it could not
weep in any other way over the dead one.

But the wicked brother looked at the beautiful
blooming plant, and took it for himself as an inhe-—
ritance, and put it in his sleeping-room close by
The Rose- Elf. 149

lis bed, for it was glorious to look upon, and its
fragrance was sweet and lovely. The little Rose-
elf followed, and went from flower to flower,for in
each dwelt a little soul, and told of the murdered
young man, whose head was now earth beneath
the earth, and told of the evil brother and of the
poor sister.

«We know it!” said each soul im the flowers.
“We know it: have we not sprung from the eyes
and lips of the murdered man? We know it! we
know it!” And then they nodded in a strange
fashion with their heads.

The Rose-elf could not at all understand how
they could be so quiet, and he flew out to the bees’
that were gathermg honey, and told them: the
story of the wicked brother. And the bees told
it to their Queen, and the Queen commanded that
they should all kill the murderer next morning.
But im the night —it was the first night that-fol-
lowed upon the sister’s death — when the brother
was sleeping in his bed, close to the fragrant jas-
mine, each flower opened, and invisible, but armed
with poisonous spears, the flower souls came out
and seated themselves in his*ear, and told him bad
dreams, and then flew across his lips and pricked
his tongue with the poisonous spears.
150 The Rose-Eff.

“Now we have avenged the dead man!” they
said, and flew back into the jasmine’s white bells.

When the morning came and the windows of
the bed-chamber was opened, the Rose-elf and the
Queen Bee and the whole swarm of bees rushed
in to kall him.

But he was dead already. People stood around
his bed and said, “The scent of the jasmine has
lulled him!” Then the Rose-elf understood the
revenge of the flowers, and told it to the Queen
and to the bees, and the Queen hummed with the
whole swarm around the flower-pot. The bees
were not to be driven away. Then a man carried
away the flower-pot, and one of the bees stung
him in the hand so that he let the pot fall, and it
broke in pieces,

Then they beheld the whitened skull, and knew
that the dead man on the bed was a murderer.

And the Queen Bee hummed in the air, and
sang of the revenge of the bees, and of the Rose-
elf, and said that behind the smallest leaf there
dwells One who can bring the evil to light, and
repay it,

DALZIEL BROTHERS, CAMDEN PRESS.


FOR THE YOUNG.
In Feap. 8vo., Cloth Gilt, price 1s. 6d. each.

Each Volume contains a variety of Stories, a Frontispiece in
Colours, and an average of Sixteen other Pictures,

——

I. THE RED SHOES, and other Tales.
Il. THE SILVER SHILLING, and other Tales.
ll. THE LITTLE MATCH GIRL, and other
Tales.
IV. THE DARNING-NEEDLE, and other Tales.
V. THE TINDER-BOX, and other Tales.
VI. THE GOLOSHES OF FORTUNE, aud other
Tales.
Vil. THE MARSH KING’S DAUGHTER, aza
other Tales.
VIll. EVERYTHING IN ITS RIGHT PLACE,
and other Tales.
IX. THE WILD SWANS, and other Tales.
xX. UNDER THE WILLOW TREE, and other
Tales.
XI. THE OLD CHURCH BELL, azd other Tales.
XII. THE ICE MAIDEN, and other Tales.

“ Andersen is a writer who cannot be praised too highly. His
dogs and birds and foxes are not like AZsop’s dwarfed and miniature
men, but they are rational dogs and birds and foxes, possessed of a
genuine canine, avine, and vulpine intellect, or intelligence at any
rate,”—Saturday Review.
DALZIELS’ FINE ART GIFT BOOKS.

One Guinea.

In a Superb Binding, richly Illuminated in Red, Blue, and
Gold.

A ROUND OF DAYS

DESCRIBED IN

FORTY ORIGINAL POEMS



BY
WILLIAM ALLINGHAM JENNETT HUMPHREYS
ROBERT BUCHANAN JEAN INGELOW
DR. DULCKEN FREDERICK LOCKER
AMELIA B. EDWARDS GEORGE MACDONALD
DORA GREENWELL THE HON. MRS. NORTON
TOM HOOD CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI
WILLIAM HOWITT TOM TAYLOR

MARY HOWITT
The AUTHOR OF “THE GENTLE LIFE”
And the AUTHOR OF “JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN,’

AND IN
SEVENTY PICTURES
BY
W. P. BURTON A. B. HOUGHTON
A. W. BAYES T. MORTEN
WARWICK BROOKS J. W. NORTH
E. DALZIEL G. J. PINWELL
T. DALZIEL F. WALKER
PAUL GRAY J. D. WATSON

ENGRAVED BY THE BROTHERS DALZIEL.

“The printing is magnificently executed, and the volume is one
de luxe; and when we say that it takes rank with the Home
Thoughts and Home Scenes of Messrs. Dalziel, we intend to give it
high praise.”’—Saturday Review.

Llaborate Binding, full Gilt.
THE

PARABLES OF OUR LORD,

WITH PICTURES BY J. E. MILLAIS, R.A.,
ENGRAVED BY THE BROTHERS DALZIEL.
Red Lettered, and Printed on fine Toned Paper.

“In these designs we have much of Mr. Millais’ finest work, while
Messrs. Dalziel have raised the character of wood engraving by their
exact and most admirable translations.’’—Reader.
DALZIELS’ FINE ART GIFT BOOKS.

One Guinea.

In Demy 4to., Chaste Design in Gold, or Morocco Llegant and
Antique, £1. 16s.

HOME THOUGHTS

AND

HOME SCENES.

IN

THIRTY-FIVE ORIGINAL POEMS

BY
JEAN INGELOW THE HON. MRS. NORTON
DORA GREENWELL AMELIA B. EDWARDS
MRS. TOM TAYLOR JENNETT HUMPHREYS
‘And the AUTHOR OF “JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN.”
AND
THIRTY-FIVE PICTURES
BY

A. B. HOUGHTON,
ENGRAVED BY THE BROTHERS DALZIEL.

“We predict popularity, and a deserved popularity, for this pro-
duction.” —Saturday Review.



Superb Binding, Designed by Owen Jones.
BIRKET FOSTER’S

PICTURES OF ENGLISH
LANDSCAPE.

(ENGRAVED BY TIE BROTHERS DALZIEL),
WITH PICTURES IN WORDS BY TOM TAYLOR.

“Here is a Birket Foster ‘ Gallery’ of thirty pictures for a guinea.
Pictures so carefully finished, that they would be graceful orna-
ments were they cut out of the beoks and framed.”—Examiner.
Six Shillings.

Complete in One Volume, Extra Cloth Gilt, 750 pages,
Crown S8vo., beautifully Printed on Toned Paper.

THE VICTORIA
HISTORY OF ENGLAND,

FROM THE LANDING OF JULIUS CASAR, B.C. 54, TO
THE MARRIAGE OF H.R.H. ALBERT EDWARD,
PRINCE OF WALES, A.D. 1863.

UWLith a Chronological Table and Summary of Remarkable
Cbents.
MAPS OF THE BRITISH ISLES, AND TABLES, SHOWING TUE
ROMAN AND MODERN NAMES OF CITIES, TOWNS,
RIVERS, ETC.

BY ARTHUR BATLEY THOMPSON.
FOUR HUNDRED ENGRAVINGS BY
THE BROTHERS DALZIEL.

Five Shillings.
Letra Cloth Gilt, Gilt Ldges, 4to.

AN OLD FAIRY TALE

TOLD ANEW BY
RICHARD DOYLE AND J. R. PLANCHiI.

Three Shillings and Sixpence.
Extra Cloth Gilt, and Gilt Edges, on Fine Toned Paper.

PICTURE FABLES.

ONE HUNDRED ENGRAVINGS BY
THE BROTHERS DALZIEL, ‘

FROM ORIGINAL DESIGNS BY OTTO SPECTER.

WITH RHYMES FROM THE GERMAN OF Ff. HEY,
TRANSLATED BY H. W. DULCKEN, PuD.
Five Shillings.
Futra Cloth Gilt, on Fine Toned Paper.

moi DEN LIGHT:
BEING _
SCRIPTURE STORIES FOR THE YOUNG.
OLD AND NEW TESTAMENT.
EIGHTY LARGE PAGE ENGRAVINGS BY
THE BROTHERS DALZIEL,

DRAWN BY A. W. BAYES.

Five Shillings.
Extra Cloth Gilt, on Fine Toned Paper.

A PICTURE
HISTORY OF ENGLAND,

FROM THE TIME OF THE ANCIENT BRITONS
TO THE YEAR 1865.

Critter for the Ase of the Woung.
BY
H. W. DULCKEN, Pu.D.

Wit
EIGHTY ENGRAVINGS BY THE BROTHERS DALZIEL,

FROM DESIGNS BY A. W. BAYES.

Three Shillings and Sixpence.
Extra Cloth Gilt.

THE GOLDEN HARP:

HYMNS, RHYMES, AND SONGS FOR THE YOUNG.
FROM THE GERMAN BY H. W. DULCKEN, Pu.D.

FIFTY-TWO ILLUSTRATIONS BY
io) De WATSON, 2. DALZIEL, AND J. WOLF.

ENGRAVED BY THE BROTHERS DALZIEL.
ONE SHILLING EACH.

In Strong Boards.

DEAUTIF Ule PICTURE
BOOKS
FOR THE YOUNG.

EACH CONTAINING
EIGHT LARGE PICTURES PRINTED IN COLOURS.
+
BABY’S BIRTHDAY, AND HOW IT WAS SPENT.
MARY’S NEW DOLL.

WHEN THE CAT’S AWAY THE MICE WILL
PLAY.

THE MISCHIEVOUS PUPPY.
ANIMALS AND BIRDS.
THE CHILDREN’S FAVOURITES.
PICTURES FROM THE STREET.

LOST ON THE SEA SHORE.

GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS,

BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL.




e

Moke Pey CR erter Ths Her eacee Sig
> : ;
Ait
ry a ; ts
st

ele

St) ae ;




Se gee hr ?.

an Ae.

» ae alg
a 7

; coat eu 8)

â„¢
Preteen.

at © Nore eh