No More Learning

Still I contrive to lay hold on some of it. "

Kaela's beauty had a firm hold on Alfred; it filled his soul,
and held a mastery over him. Beauty beamed from Kaela's every feature,
glittered in her eyes, lurked in the corners of her mouth, and
pervaded every movement of her agile fingers. Alfred, the sculptor,
saw this. He spoke only to her, thought only of her, and the two
became one; and so it may be said she spoke much, for he was always
talking to her; and he and she were one. Such was the betrothal, and
then came the wedding, with bride's-maids and wedding presents, all
duly mentioned in the wedding speech. Mamma-in-law had set up
Thorwalsden's bust at the end of the table, attired in a
dressing-gown; it was her fancy that he should be a guest. Songs
were sung, and cheers given; for it was a gay wedding, and they were a
handsome pair. "Pygmalion loved his Galatea," said one of the songs.

"Ah, that is some of your mythologies," said mamma-in-law.

Next day the youthful pair started for Copenhagen, where they were
to live; mamma-in-law accompanied them, to attend to the "coarse
work," as she always called the domestic arrangements. Kaela looked
like a doll in a doll's house, for everything was bright and new,
and so fine. There they sat, all three; and as for Alfred, a proverb
may describe his position--he looked like a swan amongst the geese.
The magic of form had enchanted him; he had looked at the casket
without caring to inquire what it contained, and that omission often
brings the greatest unhappiness into married life. The casket may be
injured, the gilding may fall off, and then the purchaser regrets
his bargain.

In a large party it is very disagreeable to find a button giving
way, with no studs at hand to fall back upon; but it is worse still in
a large company to be conscious that your wife and mother-in-law are
talking nonsense, and that you cannot depend upon yourself to
produce a little ready wit to carry off the stupidity of the whole
affair.

The young married pair often sat together hand in hand; he would
talk, but she could only now and then let fall a word in the same
melodious voice, the same bell-like tones. It was a mental relief when
Sophy, one of her friends, came to pay them a visit. Sophy was not,
pretty. She was, however, quite free from any physical deformity,
although Kaela used to say she was a little crooked; but no eye,
save an intimate acquaintance, would have noticed it. She was a very
sensible girl, yet it never occurred to her that she might be a
dangerous person in such a house. Her appearance created a new
atmosphere in the doll's house, and air was really required, they
all owned that. They felt the want of a change of air, and
consequently the young couple and their mother travelled to Italy.

"Thank heaven we are at home again within our own four walls,"
said mamma-in-law and daughter both, on their return after a year's
absence.

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

"And then the living, mamma," said Kaela.

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

The journey had also tired Kaela; but she was always fatigued,
that was the worst of it. So they sent for Sophy, and she was taken
into the house to reside with them, and her presence there was a great
advantage. Mamma-in-law acknowledged that Sophy was not only a
clever housewife, but well-informed and accomplished, though that
could hardly be expected in a person of her limited means. She was
also a generous-hearted, faithful girl; she showed that thoroughly
while Kaela lay sick, fading away. When the casket is everything,
the casket should be strong, or else all is over. And all was over
with the casket, for Kaela died.

"She was beautiful," said her mother; "she was quite different
from the beauties they call 'antiques,' for they are so damaged. A
beauty ought to be perfect, and Kaela was a perfect beauty. "

Alfred wept, and mamma wept, and they both wore mourning. The
black dress suited mamma very well, and she wore mourning the longest.
She had also to experience another grief in seeing Alfred marry again,
marry Sophy, who was nothing at all to look at. "He's gone to the very
extreme," said mamma-in-law; "he has gone from the most beautiful to
the ugliest, and he has forgotten his first wife. Men have no
constancy. My husband was a very different man,--but then he died
before me. "

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

"That was not a loving speech," said Sophy, "nor spoken like a
Christian. In a future state, where there is neither marrying nor
giving in marriage, but where, as you say, souls are attracted to each
other by sympathy; there everything beautiful develops itself, and
is raised to a higher state of existence: her soul will acquire such
completeness that it may harmonize with yours, even more than mine,
and you will then once more utter your first rapturous exclamation
of your love, 'Beautiful, most beautiful! '"




THE BEETLE WHO WENT ON HIS TRAVELS

There was once an Emperor who had a horse shod with gold. He had a
golden shoe on each foot, and why was this? He was a beautiful
creature, with slender legs, bright, intelligent eyes, and a mane that
hung down over his neck like a veil. He had carried his master through
fire and smoke in the battle-field, with the bullets whistling round
him; he had kicked and bitten, and taken part in the fight, when the
enemy advanced; and, with his master on his back, he had dashed over
the fallen foe, and saved the golden crown and the Emperor's life,
which was of more value than the brightest gold. This is the reason of
the Emperor's horse wearing golden shoes.

A beetle came creeping forth from the stable, where the farrier
had been shoeing the horse. "Great ones, first, of course," said he,
"and then the little ones; but size is not always a proof of
greatness. " He stretched out his thin leg as he spoke.

"And pray what do you want? " asked the farrier.

"Golden shoes," replied the beetle.

"Why, you must be out of your senses," cried the farrier.
"Golden shoes for you, indeed! "

"Yes, certainly; golden shoes," replied the beetle. "Am I not just
as good as that great creature yonder, who is waited upon and brushed,
and has food and drink placed before him? And don't I belong to the
royal stables? "

"But why does the horse have golden shoes? " asked the farrier; "of
course you understand the reason? "

"Understand! Well, I understand that it is a personal slight to
me," cried the beetle. "It is done to annoy me, so I intend to go
out into the world and seek my fortune. "

"Go along with you," said the farrier.

"You're a rude fellow," cried the beetle, as he walked out of
the stable; and then he flew for a short distance, till he found
himself in a beautiful flower-garden, all fragrant with roses and
lavender. The lady-birds, with red and black shells on their backs,
and delicate wings, were flying about, and one of them said, "Is it
not sweet and lovely here? Oh, how beautiful everything is. "

"I am accustomed to better things," said the beetle. "Do you
call this beautiful? Why, there is not even a dung-heap. " Then he went
on, and under the shadow of a large haystack he found a caterpillar
crawling along. "How beautiful this world is! " said the caterpillar.
"The sun is so warm, I quite enjoy it. And soon I shall go to sleep,
and die as they call it, but I shall wake up with beautiful wings to
fly with, like a butterfly. "

"How conceited you are! " exclaimed the beetle. "Fly about as a
butterfly, indeed! what of that. I have come out of the Emperor's
stable, and no one there, not even the Emperor's horse, who, in
fact, wears my cast-off golden shoes, has any idea of flying,
excepting myself. To have wings and fly! why, I can do that
already;" and so saying, he spread his wings and flew away. "I don't
want to be disgusted," he said to himself, "and yet I can't help
it. " Soon after, he fell down upon an extensive lawn, and for a time
pretended to sleep, but at last fell asleep in earnest. Suddenly a
heavy shower of rain came falling from the clouds. The beetle woke
up with the noise and would have been glad to creep into the earth for
shelter, but he could not. He was tumbled over and over with the rain,
sometimes swimming on his stomach and sometimes on his back; and as
for flying, that was out of the question. He began to doubt whether he
should escape with his life, so he remained, quietly lying where he
was. After a while the weather cleared up a little, and the beetle was
able to rub the water from his eyes, and look about him. He saw
something gleaming, and he managed to make his way up to it. It was
linen which had been laid to bleach on the grass. He crept into a fold
of the damp linen, which certainly was not so comfortable a place to
lie in as the warm stable, but there was nothing better, so he
remained lying there for a whole day and night, and the rain kept on
all the time. Towards morning he crept out of his hiding-place,
feeling in a very bad temper with the climate. Two frogs were
sitting on the linen, and their bright eyes actually glistened with
pleasure.

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

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

"Have you ever been in the Emperor's stable? " asked the beetle.
"There the moisture is warm and refreshing; that's the climate for me,
but I could not take it with me on my travels. Is there not even a
dunghill here in this garden, where a person of rank, like myself,
could take up his abode and feel at home? " But the frogs either did
not or would not understand him.

"I never ask a question twice," said the beetle, after he had
asked this one three times, and received no answer. Then he went on
a little farther and stumbled against a piece of broken crockery-ware,
which certainly ought not to have been lying there. But as it was
there, it formed a good shelter against wind and weather to several
families of earwigs who dwelt in it. Their requirements were not many,
they were very sociable, and full of affection for their children,
so much so that each mother considered her own child the most
beautiful and clever of them all.

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

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

"You are both quite right," said he; so they begged him to walk
in, that is to come as far as he could under the broken piece of
earthenware.

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

Thus each mother spoke of her baby, and their babies talked
after their own fashion, and made use of the little nippers they
have in their tails to nip the beard of the beetle.

"They are always busy about something, the little rogues," said
the mother, beaming with maternal pride; but the beetle felt it a
bore, and he therefore inquired the way to the nearest dung-heap.

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

"But I shall try to get so far," said the beetle, and he walked
off without taking any formal leave, which is considered a polite
thing to do.

When he arrived at the ditch, he met several friends, all them
beetles; "We live here," they said, "and we are very comfortable.
May we ask you to step down into this rich mud, you must be fatigued
after your journey. "

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

"Perhaps you came from a dung-heap," observed the oldest of them.

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

Then the beetle stepped down into the rich mud, where sat three
young-lady beetles, who tittered, because they did not know what to
say.

"None of them are engaged yet," said their mother, and the
beetle maidens tittered again, this time quite in confusion.

"I have never seen greater beauties, even in the royal stables,"
exclaimed the beetle, who was now resting himself.

"Don't spoil my girls," said the mother; "and don't talk to
them, pray, unless you have serious intentions. "

But of course the beetle's intentions were serious, and after a
while our friend was engaged. The mother gave them her blessing, and
all the other beetles cried "hurrah. "

Immediately after the betrothal came the marriage, for there was
no reason to delay. The following day passed very pleasantly, and
the next was tolerably comfortable; but on the third it became
necessary for him to think of getting food for his wife, and, perhaps,
for children.

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

No sooner said than done. Away he went, and stayed away all day
and all night, and his wife remained behind a forsaken widow.

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

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

In the mean time the beetle, who had sailed across the ditch on
a cabbage leaf, had been journeying on the other side. In the
morning two persons came up to the ditch. When they saw him they
took him up and turned him over and over, looking very learned all the
time, especially one, who was a boy. "Allah sees the black beetle in
the black stone, and the black rock. Is not that written in the
Koran? " he asked.

Then he translated the beetle's name into Latin, and said a
great deal upon the creature's nature and history. The second
person, who was older and a scholar, proposed to carry the beetle
home, as they wanted just such good specimens as this. Our beetle
considered this speech a great insult, so he flew suddenly out of
the speaker's hand. His wings were dry now, so they carried him to a
great distance, till at last he reached a hothouse, where a sash of
the glass roof was partly open, so he quietly slipped in and buried
himself in the warm earth. "It is very comfortable here," he said to
himself, and soon after fell asleep. Then he dreamed that the
emperor's horse was dying, and had left him his golden shoes, and also
promised that he should have two more. All this was very delightful,
and when the beetle woke up he crept forth and looked around him. What
a splendid place the hothouse was! At the back, large palm-trees
were growing; and the sunlight made the leaves--look quite glossy; and
beneath them what a profusion of luxuriant green, and of flowers red
like flame, yellow as amber, or white as new-fallen snow! "What a
wonderful quantity of plants," cried the beetle; "how good they will
taste when they are decayed! This is a capital store-room. There
must certainly be some relations of mine living here; I will just
see if I can find any one with whom I can associate. I'm proud,
certainly; but I'm also proud of being so. " Then he prowled about in
the earth, and thought what a pleasant dream that was about the
dying horse, and the golden shoes he had inherited. Suddenly a hand
seized the beetle, and squeezed him, and turned him round and round.
The gardener's little son and his playfellow had come into the
hothouse, and, seeing the beetle, wanted to have some fun with him.
First, he was wrapped, in a vine-leaf, and put into a warm trousers'
pocket. He twisted and turned about with all his might, but he got a
good squeeze from the boy's hand, as a hint for him to keep quiet.
Then the boy went quickly towards a lake that lay at the end of the
garden. Here the beetle was put into an old broken wooden shoe, in
which a little stick had been fastened upright for a mast, and to this
mast the beetle was bound with a piece of worsted. Now he was a
sailor, and had to sail away. The lake was not very large, but to
the beetle it seemed an ocean, and he was so astonished at its size
that he fell over on his back, and kicked out his legs. Then the
little ship sailed away; sometimes the current of the water seized it,
but whenever it went too far from the shore one of the boys turned
up his trousers, and went in after it, and brought it back to land.
But at last, just as it went merrily out again, the two boys were
called, and so angrily, that they hastened to obey, and ran away as
fast as they could from the pond, so that the little ship was left
to its fate. It was carried away farther and farther from the shore,
till it reached the open sea. This was a terrible prospect for the
beetle, for he could not escape in consequence of being bound to the
mast. Then a fly came and paid him a visit. "What beautiful
weather," said the fly; "I shall rest here and sun myself. You must
have a pleasant time of it. "

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

"Ah, but I'm not a prisoner," remarked the fly, and away he flew.

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

But all was not yet over. A boat, in which were a few young girls,
came rowing up. "Look, yonder is an old wooden shoe sailing along,"
said one of the younger girls.

"And there's a poor little creature bound fast in it," said
another.

The boat now came close to our beetle's ship, and the young
girls fished it out of the water. One of them drew a small pair of
scissors from her pocket, and cut the worsted without hurting the
beetle, and when she stepped on shore she placed him on the grass.
"There," she said, "creep away, or fly, if thou canst. It is a
splendid thing to have thy liberty. " Away flew the beetle, straight
through the open window of a large building; there he sank down, tired
and exhausted, exactly on the mane of the emperor's favorite horse,
who was standing in his stable; and the beetle found himself at home
again. For some time he clung to the mane, that he might recover
himself. "Well," he said, "here I am, seated on the emperor's favorite
horse,--sitting upon him as if I were the emperor himself. But what
was it the farrier asked me? Ah, I remember now,--that's a good
thought,--he asked me why the golden shoes were given to the horse.
The answer is quite clear to me, now. They were given to the horse
on my account. " And this reflection put the beetle into a good temper.
The sun's rays also came streaming into the stable, and shone upon
him, and made the place lively and bright. "Travelling expands the
mind very much," said the beetle. "The world is not so bad after
all, if you know how to take things as they come. "




THE BELL

In the narrow streets of a large town people often heard in the
evening, when the sun was setting, and his last rays gave a golden
tint to the chimney-pots, a strange noise which resembled the sound of
a church bell; it only lasted an instant, for it was lost in the
continual roar of traffic and hum of voices which rose from the
town. "The evening bell is ringing," people used to say; "the sun is
setting! " Those who walked outside the town, where the houses were
less crowded and interspersed by gardens and little fields, saw the
evening sky much better, and heard the sound of the bell much more
clearly. It seemed as though the sound came from a church, deep in the
calm, fragrant wood, and thither people looked with devout feelings.

A considerable time elapsed: one said to the other, "I really
wonder if there is a church out in the wood. The bell has indeed a
strange sweet sound! Shall we go there and see what the cause of it
is? " The rich drove, the poor walked, but the way seemed to them
extraordinarily long, and when they arrived at a number of willow
trees on the border of the wood they sat down, looked up into the
great branches and thought they were now really in the wood. A
confectioner from the town also came out and put up a stall there;
then came another confectioner who hung a bell over his stall, which
was covered with pitch to protect it from the rain, but the clapper
was wanting.

When people came home they used to say that it had been very
romantic, and that really means something else than merely taking tea.
Three persons declared that they had gone as far as the end of the
wood; they had always heard the strange sound, but there it seemed
to them as if it came from the town. One of them wrote verses about
the bell, and said that it was like the voice of a mother speaking
to an intelligent and beloved child; no tune, he said, was sweeter
than the sound of the bell.

The emperor of the country heard of it, and declared that he who
would really find out where the sound came from should receive the
title of "Bellringer to the World," even if there was no bell at all.

Now many went out into the wood for the sake of this splendid
berth; but only one of them came back with some sort of explanation.
None of them had gone far enough, nor had he, and yet he said that the
sound of the bell came from a large owl in a hollow tree. It was a
wisdom owl, which continually knocked its head against the tree, but
he was unable to say with certainty whether its head or the hollow
trunk of the tree was the cause of the noise.

He was appointed "Bellringer to the World," and wrote every year a
short dissertation on the owl, but by this means people did not become
any wiser than they had been before.

It was just confirmation-day. The clergyman had delivered a
beautiful and touching sermon, the candidates were deeply moved by it;
it was indeed a very important day for them; they were all at once
transformed from mere children to grown-up people; the childish soul
was to fly over, as it were, into a more reasonable being.

The sun shone most brightly; and the sound of the great unknown
bell was heard more distinctly than ever. They had a mind to go
thither, all except three. One of them wished to go home and try on
her ball dress, for this very dress and the ball were the cause of her
being confirmed this time, otherwise she would not have been allowed
to go. The second, a poor boy, had borrowed a coat and a pair of boots
from the son of his landlord to be confirmed in, and he had to
return them at a certain time. The third said that he never went
into strange places if his parents were not with him; he had always
been a good child, and wished to remain so, even after being
confirmed, and they ought not to tease him for this; they, however,
did it all the same. These three, therefore did not go; the others
went on. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the
confirmed children sang too, holding each other by the hand, for
they had no position yet, and they were all equal in the eyes of
God. Two of the smallest soon became tired and returned to the town;
two little girls sat down and made garlands of flowers, they,
therefore, did not go on. When the others arrived at the willow trees,
where the confectioner had put up his stall, they said: "Now we are
out here; the bell does not in reality exist--it is only something
that people imagine! "

Then suddenly the sound of the bell was heard so beautifully and
solemnly from the wood that four or five made up their minds to go
still further on. The wood was very thickly grown. It was difficult to
advance: wood lilies and anemones grew almost too high; flowering
convolvuli and brambles were hanging like garlands from tree to
tree; while the nightingales were singing and the sunbeams played.
That was very beautiful! But the way was unfit for the girls; they
would have torn their dresses. Large rocks, covered with moss of
various hues, were lying about; the fresh spring water rippled forth
with a peculiar sound. "I don't think that can be the bell," said
one of the confirmed children, and then he lay down and listened.
"We must try to find out if it is! " And there he remained, and let the
others walk on.

They came to a hut built of the bark of trees and branches; a
large crab-apple tree spread its branches over it, as if it intended
to pour all its fruit on the roof, upon which roses were blooming; the
long boughs covered the gable, where a little bell was hanging. Was
this the one they had heard? All agreed that it must be so, except one
who said that the bell was too small and too thin to be heard at
such a distance, and that it had quite a different sound to that which
had so touched men's hearts.

He who spoke was a king's son, and therefore the others said
that such a one always wishes to be cleverer than other people.

Therefore they let him go alone; and as he walked on, the solitude
of the wood produced a feeling of reverence in his breast; but still
he heard the little bell about which the others rejoiced, and
sometimes, when the wind blew in that direction, he could hear the
sounds from the confectioner's stall, where the others were singing at
tea. But the deep sounds of the bell were much stronger; soon it
seemed to him as if an organ played an accompaniment--the sound came
from the left, from the side where the heart is. Now something rustled
among the bushes, and a little boy stood before the king's son, in
wooden shoes and such a short jacket that the sleeves did not reach to
his wrists. They knew each other: the boy was the one who had not been
able to go with them because he had to take the coat and boots back to
his landlord's son. That he had done, and had started again in his
wooden shoes and old clothes, for the sound of the bell was too
enticing--he felt he must go on.

"We might go together," said the king's son. But the poor boy with
the wooden shoes was quite ashamed; he pulled at the short sleeves
of his jacket, and said that he was afraid he could not walk so
fast; besides, he was of opinion that the bell ought to be sought at
the right, for there was all that was grand and magnificent.

"Then we shall not meet," said the king's son, nodding to the poor
boy, who went into the deepest part of the wood, where the thorns tore
his shabby clothes and scratched his hands, face, and feet until
they bled. The king's son also received several good scratches, but
the sun was shining on his way, and it is he whom we will now
follow, for he was a quick fellow. "I will and must find the bell," he
said, "if I have to go to the end of the world. "

Ugly monkeys sat high in the branches and clenched their teeth.
"Shall we beat him? " they said. "Shall we thrash him? He is a king's
son! "

But he walked on undaunted, deeper and deeper into the wood, where
the most wonderful flowers were growing; there were standing white
star lilies with blood-red stamens, sky-blue tulips shining when the
wind moved them; apple-trees covered with apples like large glittering
soap bubbles: only think how resplendent these trees were in the
sunshine! All around were beautiful green meadows, where hart and hind
played in the grass. There grew magnificent oaks and beech-trees;
and if the bark was split of any of them, long blades of grass grew
out of the clefts; there were also large smooth lakes in the wood,
on which the swans were swimming about and flapping their wings. The
king's son often stood still and listened; sometimes he thought that
the sound of the bell rose up to him out of one of these deep lakes,
but soon he found that this was a mistake, and that the bell was
ringing still farther in the wood. Then the sun set, the clouds were
as red as fire; it became quiet in the wood; he sank down on his
knees, sang an evening hymn and said: "I shall never find what I am
looking for! Now the sun is setting, and the night, the dark night, is
approaching. Yet I may perhaps see the round sun once more before he
disappears beneath the horizon. I will climb up these rocks, they
are as high as the highest trees! " And then, taking hold of the
creepers and roots, he climbed up on the wet stones, where
water-snakes were wriggling and the toads, as it were, barked at
him: he reached the top before the sun, seen from such a height, had
quite set. "Oh, what a splendour! " The sea, the great majestic sea,
which was rolling its long waves against the shore, stretched out
before him, and the sun was standing like a large bright altar and
there where sea and heaven met--all melted together in the most
glowing colours; the wood was singing, and his heart too. The whole of
nature was one large holy church, in which the trees and hovering
clouds formed the pillars, the flowers and grass the woven velvet
carpet, and heaven itself was the great cupola; up there the flame
colour vanished as soon as the sun disappeared, but millions of
stars were lighted; diamond lamps were shining, and the king's son
stretched his arms out towards heaven, towards the sea, and towards
the wood. Then suddenly the poor boy with the short-sleeved jacket and
the wooden shoes appeared; he had arrived just as quickly on the
road he had chosen. And they ran towards each other and took one
another's hand, in the great cathedral of nature and poesy, and
above them sounded the invisible holy bell; happy spirits surrounded
them, singing hallelujahs and rejoicing.




THE BELL-DEEP

"Ding-dong! ding-dong! " It sounds up from the "bell-deep" in the
Odense-Au. Every child in the old town of Odense, on the island of
Funen, knows the Au, which washes the gardens round about the town,
and flows on under the wooden bridges from the dam to the
water-mill. In the Au grow the yellow water-lilies and brown
feathery reeds; the dark velvety flag grows there, high and thick; old
and decayed willows, slanting and tottering, hang far out over the
stream beside the monk's meadow and by the bleaching ground; but
opposite there are gardens upon gardens, each different from the rest,
some with pretty flowers and bowers like little dolls' pleasure
grounds, often displaying cabbage and other kitchen plants; and here
and there the gardens cannot be seen at all, for the great elder trees
that spread themselves out by the bank, and hang far out over the
streaming waters, which are deeper here and there than an oar can
fathom. Opposite the old nunnery is the deepest place, which is called
the "bell-deep," and there dwells the old water spirit, the "Au-mann. "
This spirit sleeps through the day while the sun shines down upon
the water; but in starry and moonlit nights he shows himself. He is
very old. Grandmother says that she has heard her own grandmother tell
of him; he is said to lead a solitary life, and to have nobody with
whom he can converse save the great old church Bell. Once the Bell
hung in the church tower; but now there is no trace left of the
tower or of the church, which was called St. Alban's.

"Ding-dong! ding-dong! " sounded the Bell, when the tower still
stood there; and one evening, while the sun was setting, and the
Bell was swinging away bravely, it broke loose and came flying down
through the air, the brilliant metal shining in the ruddy beam.

"Ding-dong! ding-dong! Now I'll retire to rest! " sang the Bell,
and flew down into the Odense-Au, where it is deepest; and that is why
the place is called the "bell-deep. "

But the Bell got neither rest nor sleep. Down in the Au-mann's
haunt it sounds and rings, so that the tones sometimes pierce upward
through the waters; and many people maintain that its strains forebode
the death of some one; but that is not true, for the Bell is only
talking with the Au-mann, who is now no longer alone.

And what is the Bell telling? It is old, very old, as we have
already observed; it was there long before grandmother's grandmother
was born; and yet it is but a child in comparison with the Au-mann,
who is quite an old quiet personage, an oddity, with his hose of
eel-skin, and his scaly Jacket with the yellow lilies for buttons, and
a wreath of reed in his hair and seaweed in his beard; but he looks
very pretty for all that.

What the Bell tells? To repeat it all would require years and
days; for year by year it is telling the old stories, sometimes
short ones, sometimes long ones, according to its whim; it tells of
old times, of the dark hard times, thus:

"In the church of St. Alban, the monk had mounted up into the
tower. He was young and handsome, but thoughtful exceedingly. He
looked through the loophole out upon the Odense-Au, when the bed of
the water was yet broad, and the monks' meadow was still a lake. He
looked out over it, and over the rampart, and over the nuns' hill
opposite, where the convent lay, and the light gleamed forth from
the nun's cell. He had known the nun right well, and he thought of
her, and his heart beat quicker as he thought. Ding-dong! ding-dong! "

Yes, this was the story the Bell told.

"Into the tower came also the dapper man-servant of the bishop;
and when I, the Bell, who am made of metal, rang hard and loud, and
swung to and fro, I might have beaten out his brains. He sat down
close under me, and played with two little sticks as if they had
been a stringed instrument; and he sang to it. 'Now I may sing it
out aloud, though at other times I may not whisper it. I may sing of
everything that is kept concealed behind lock and bars. Yonder it is
cold and wet. The rats are eating her up alive! Nobody knows of it!
Nobody hears of it! Not even now, for the bell is ringing and
singing its loud Ding-dong, ding-dong! '

"There was a King in those days. They called him Canute. He
bowed himself before bishop and monk; but when he offended the free
peasants with heavy taxes and hard words, they seized their weapons
and put him to flight like a wild beast. He sought shelter in the
church, and shut gate and door behind him. The violent band surrounded
the church; I heard tell of it. The crows, ravens and magpies
started up in terror at the yelling and shouting that sounded
around. They flew into the tower and out again, they looked down
upon the throng below, and they also looked into the windows of the
church, and screamed out aloud what they saw there. King Canute
knelt before the altar in prayer; his brothers Eric and Benedict stood
by him as a guard with drawn swords; but the King's servant, the
treacherous Blake, betrayed his master. The throng in front of the
church knew where they could hit the King, and one of them flung a
stone through a pane of glass, and the King lay there dead! The
cries and screams of the savage horde and of the birds sounded through
the air, and I joined in it also; for I sang 'Ding-dong! ding-dong! '

"The church bell hangs high, and looks far around, and sees the
birds around it, and understands their language. The wind roars in
upon it through windows and loopholes; and the wind knows
everything, for he gets it from the air, which encircles all things,
and the church bell understands his tongue, and rings it out into
the world, 'Ding-dong! ding-dong! '

"But it was too much for me to hear and to know; I was not able
any longer to ring it out. I became so tired, so heavy, that the
beam broke, and I flew out into the gleaming Au, where the water is
deepest, and where the Au-mann lives, solitary and alone; and year
by year I tell him what I have heard and what I know. Ding-dong!
ding-dong! "

Thus it sounds complainingly out of the bell-deep in the
Odense-Au. That is what grandmother told us.

But the schoolmaster says that there was not any bell that rung
down there, for that it could not do so; and that no Au-mann dwelt
yonder, for there was no Au-mann at all! And when all the other church
bells are sounding sweetly, he says that it is not really the bells
that are sounding, but that it is the air itself which sends forth the
notes; and grandmother said to us that the Bell itself said it was the
air who told it to him, consequently they are agreed on that point,
and this much is sure.

"Be cautious, cautious, and take good heed to thyself," they
both say.

The air knows everything. It is around us, it is in us, it talks
of our thoughts and of our deeds, and it speaks longer of them than
does the Bell down in the depths of the Odense-Au where the Au-mann
dwells. It rings it out in the vault of heaven, far, far out,
forever and ever, till the heaven bells sound "Ding-dong! ding-dong! "




THE BIRD OF POPULAR SONG

In is winter-time. The earth wears a snowy garment, and looks like
marble hewn out of the rock; the air is bright and clear; the wind
is sharp as a well-tempered sword, and the trees stand like branches
of white coral or blooming almond twigs, and here it is keen as on the
lofty Alps.

The night is splendid in the gleam of the Northern Lights, and
in the glitter of innumerable twinkling stars.

But we sit in the warm room, by the hot stove, and talk about
the old times. And we listen to this story:

By the open sea was a giant's grave; and on the grave-mound sat at
midnight the spirit of the buried hero, who had been a king. The
golden circlet gleamed on his brow, his hair fluttered in the wind,
and he was clad in steel and iron. He bent his head mournfully, and
sighed in deep sorrow, as an unquiet spirit might sigh.

And a ship came sailing by. Presently the sailors lowered the
anchor and landed. Among them was a singer, and he approached the
royal spirit, and said,

"Why mournest thou, and wherefore dost thou suffer thus? "

And the dead man answered,

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

And he spoke of his works, and of his warlike deeds, which his
contemporaries had known, but which had not been sung, because there
was no singer among his companions.

Then the old bard struck the strings of his harp, and sang of
the youthful courage of the hero, of the strength of the man, and of
the greatness of his good deeds. Then the face of the dead one gleamed
like the margin of the cloud in the moonlight. Gladly and of good
courage, the form arose in splendor and in majesty, and vanished
like the glancing of the northern light. Nought was to be seen but the
green turfy mound, with the stones on which no Runic record has been
graven; but at the last sound of the harp there soared over the
hill, as though he had fluttered from the harp, a little bird, a
charming singing-bird, with ringing voice of the thrush, with the
moving voice pathos of the human heart, with a voice that told of
home, like the voice that is heard by the bird of passage. The
singing-bird soared away, over mountain and valley, over field and
wood--he was the Bird of Popular Song, who never dies.

We hear his song--we hear it now in the room while the white
bees are swarming without, and the storm clutches the windows. The
bird sings not alone the requiem of heroes; he sings also sweet gentle
songs of love, so many and so warm, of Northern fidelity and truth. He
has stories in words and in tones; he has proverbs and snatches of
proverbs; songs which, like Runes laid under a dead man's tongue,
force him to speak; and thus Popular Song tells of the land of his
birth.

In the old heathen days, in the times of the Vikings, the
popular speech was enshrined in the harp of the bard.

In the days of knightly castles, when the strongest fist held
the scales of justice, when only might was right, and a peasant and
a dog were of equal importance, where did the Bird of Song find
shelter and protection? Neither violence nor stupidity gave him a
thought.

But in the gabled window of the knightly castle, the lady of the
castle sat with the parchment roll before her, and wrote down the
old recollections in song and legend, while near her stood the old
woman from the wood, and the travelling peddler who went wandering
through the country. As these told their tales, there fluttered around
them, with twittering and song, the Bird of Popular Song, who never
dies so long as the earth has a hill upon which his foot may rest.

And now he looks in upon us and sings. Without are the night and
the snow-storm. He lays the Runes beneath our tongues, and we know the
land of our home. Heaven speaks to us in our native tongue, in the
voice of the Bird of Popular Song. The old remembrances awake, the
faded colors glow with a fresh lustre, and story and song pour us a
blessed draught which lifts up our minds and our thoughts, so that the
evening becomes as a Christmas festival.

The snow-flakes chase each other, the ice cracks, the storm
rules without, for he has the might, he is lord--but not the LORD OF
ALL.

It is winter time. The wind is sharp as a two-edged sword, the
snow-flakes chase each other; it seems as though it had been snowing
for days and weeks, and the snow lies like a great mountain over the
whole town, like a heavy dream of the winter night. Everything on
the earth is hidden away, only the golden cross of the church, the
symbol of faith, arises over the snow grave, and gleams in the blue
air and in the bright sunshine.

And over the buried town fly the birds of heaven, the small and
the great; they twitter and they sing as best they may, each bird with
his beak.

First comes the band of sparrows: they pipe at every trifle in the
streets and lanes, in the nests and the houses; they have stories to
tell about the front buildings and the back buildings.

"We know the buried town," they say; "everything living in it is
piep! piep! piep! "

The black ravens and crows flew on over the white snow.