One of them held out her hand, in which was a heart made of
sugar, more beautiful than any confectioner ever sold.
sugar, more beautiful than any confectioner ever sold.
Fairy Tales of Hans Christian Andersen
"
"Ah, better still! " cried the wife. "You always think of
everything; we have just enough pasture for a sheep. Ewe's milk and
cheese, woollen jackets and stockings! The cow could not give all
these, and her hair only falls off. How you think of everything! "
"But I changed away the sheep for a goose. "
"Then we shall have roast goose to eat this year. You dear old
man, you are always thinking of something to please me. This is
delightful. We can let the goose walk about with a string tied to
her leg, so she will be fatter still before we roast her. "
"But I gave away the goose for a fowl. "
"A fowl! Well, that was a good exchange," replied the woman.
"The fowl will lay eggs and hatch them, and we shall have chickens; we
shall soon have a poultry-yard. Oh, this is just what I was wishing
for. "
"Yes, but I exchanged the fowl for a sack of shrivelled apples. "
"What! I really must give you a kiss for that! " exclaimed the
wife. "My dear, good husband, now I'll tell you something. Do you
know, almost as soon as you left me this morning, I began to think
of what I could give you nice for supper this evening, and then I
thought of fried eggs and bacon, with sweet herbs; I had eggs and
bacon, but I wanted the herbs; so I went over to the schoolmaster's: I
knew they had plenty of herbs, but the schoolmistress is very mean,
although she can smile so sweetly. I begged her to lend me a handful
of herbs. 'Lend! ' she exclaimed, 'I have nothing to lend; nothing at
all grows in our garden, not even a shrivelled apple; I could not even
lend you a shrivelled apple, my dear woman. But now I can lend her
ten, or a whole sackful, which I'm very glad of; it makes me laugh
to think about it;" and then she gave him a hearty kiss.
"Well, I like all this," said both the Englishmen; "always going
down the hill, and yet always merry; it's worth the money to see
it. " So they paid a hundred-weight of gold to the peasant, who,
whatever he did, was not scolded but kissed.
Yes, it always pays best when the wife sees and maintains that her
husband knows best, and whatever he does is right.
That is a story which I heard when I was a child; and now you have
heard it too, and know that "What the old man does is always right. "
THE OLD STREET LAMP
Did you ever hear the story of the old street lamp? It is not
remarkably interesting, but for once in a way you may as well listen
to it. It was a most respectable old lamp, which had seen many, many
years of service, and now was to retire with a pension. It was this
evening at its post for the last time, giving light to the street. His
feelings were something like those of an old dancer at the theatre,
who is dancing for the last time, and knows that on the morrow she
will be in her garret, alone and forgotten. The lamp had very great
anxiety about the next day, for he knew that he had to appear for
the first time at the town hall, to be inspected by the mayor and
the council, who were to decide if he were fit for further service
or not;--whether the lamp was good enough to be used to light the
inhabitants of one of the suburbs, or in the country, at some factory;
and if not, it would be sent at once to an iron foundry, to be
melted down. In this latter case it might be turned into anything, and
he wondered very much whether he would then be able to remember that
he had once been a street lamp, and it troubled him exceedingly.
Whatever might happen, one thing seemed certain, that he would be
separated from the watchman and his wife, whose family he looked
upon as his own. The lamp had first been hung up on that very
evening that the watchman, then a robust young man, had entered upon
the duties of his office. Ah, well, it was a very long time since
one became a lamp and the other a watchman. His wife had a little
pride in those days; she seldom condescended to glance at the lamp,
excepting when she passed by in the evening, never in the daytime. But
in later years, when all these,--the watchman, the wife, and the
lamp--had grown old, she had attended to it, cleaned it, and supplied it
with oil. The old people were thoroughly honest, they had never
cheated the lamp of a single drop of the oil provided for it.
This was the lamp's last night in the street, and to-morrow he
must go to the town-hall,--two very dark things to think of. No wonder
he did not burn brightly. Many other thoughts also passed through
his mind. How many persons he had lighted on their way, and how much
he had seen; as much, very likely, as the mayor and corporation
themselves! None of these thoughts were uttered aloud, however; for he
was a good, honorable old lamp, who would not willingly do harm to any
one, especially to those in authority. As many things were recalled to
his mind, the light would flash up with sudden brightness; he had,
at such moments, a conviction that he would be remembered. "There
was a handsome young man once," thought he; "it is certainly a long
while ago, but I remember he had a little note, written on pink
paper with a gold edge; the writing was elegant, evidently a lady's
hand: twice he read it through, and kissed it, and then looked up at
me, with eyes that said quite plainly, 'I am the happiest of men! '
Only he and I know what was written on this his first letter from
his lady-love. Ah, yes, and there was another pair of eyes that I
remember,--it is really wonderful how the thoughts jump from one thing
to another! A funeral passed through the street; a young and beautiful
woman lay on a bier, decked with garlands of flowers, and attended
by torches, which quite overpowered my light. All along the street
stood the people from the houses, in crowds, ready to join the
procession. But when the torches had passed from before me, and I
could look round, I saw one person alone, standing, leaning against my
post, and weeping. Never shall I forget the sorrowful eyes that looked
up at me. " These and similar reflections occupied the old street lamp,
on this the last time that his light would shine. The sentry, when
he is relieved from his post, knows at least who will succeed him, and
may whisper a few words to him, but the lamp did not know his
successor, or he could have given him a few hints respecting rain,
or mist, and could have informed him how far the moon's rays would
rest on the pavement, and from which side the wind generally blew, and
so on.
On the bridge over the canal stood three persons, who wished to
recommend themselves to the lamp, for they thought he could give the
office to whomsoever he chose. The first was a herring's head, which
could emit light in the darkness. He remarked that it would be a great
saving of oil if they placed him on the lamp-post. Number two was a
piece of rotten wood, which also shines in the dark. He considered
himself descended from an old stem, once the pride of the forest.
The third was a glow-worm, and how he found his way there the lamp
could not imagine, yet there he was, and could really give light as
well as the others. But the rotten wood and the herring's head
declared most solemnly, by all they held sacred, that the glow-worm
only gave light at certain times, and must not be allowed to compete
with themselves. The old lamp assured them that not one of them
could give sufficient light to fill the position of a street lamp; but
they would believe nothing he said. And when they discovered that he
had not the power of naming his successor, they said they were very
glad to hear it, for the lamp was too old and worn-out to make a
proper choice.
At this moment the wind came rushing round the corner of the
street, and through the air-holes of the old lamp. "What is this I
hear? " said he; "that you are going away to-morrow? Is this evening
the last time we shall meet? Then I must present you with a farewell
gift. I will blow into your brain, so that in future you shall not
only be able to remember all that you have seen or heard in the
past, but your light within shall be so bright, that you shall be able
to understand all that is said or done in your presence. "
"Oh, that is really a very, very great gift," said the old lamp;
"I thank you most heartily. I only hope I shall not be melted down. "
"That is not likely to happen yet," said the wind; "and I will
also blow a memory into you, so that should you receive other
similar presents your old age will pass very pleasantly. "
"That is if I am not melted down," said the lamp. "But should I in
that case still retain my memory? "
"Do be reasonable, old lamp," said the wind, puffing away.
At this moment the moon burst forth from the clouds. "What will
you give the old lamp? " asked the wind.
"I can give nothing," she replied; "I am on the wane, and no lamps
have ever given me light while I have frequently shone upon them. " And
with these words the moon hid herself again behind the clouds, that
she might be saved from further importunities. Just then a drop fell
upon the lamp, from the roof of the house, but the drop explained that
he was a gift from those gray clouds, and perhaps the best of all
gifts. "I shall penetrate you so thoroughly," he said, "that you
will have the power of becoming rusty, and, if you wish it, to crumble
into dust in one night. "
But this seemed to the lamp a very shabby present, and the wind
thought so too. "Does no one give any more? Will no one give any
more? " shouted the breath of the wind, as loud as it could. Then a
bright falling star came down, leaving a broad, luminous streak behind
it.
"What was that? " cried the herring's head. "Did not a star fall? I
really believe it went into the lamp. Certainly, when such high-born
personages try for the office, we may as well say 'Good-night,' and go
home. "
And so they did, all three, while the old lamp threw a wonderfully
strong light all around him.
"This is a glorious gift," said he; "the bright stars have
always been a joy to me, and have always shone more brilliantly than I
ever could shine, though I have tried with my whole might; and now
they have noticed me, a poor old lamp, and have sent me a gift that
will enable me to see clearly everything that I remember, as if it
still stood before me, and to be seen by all those who love me. And
herein lies the truest pleasure, for joy which we cannot share with
others is only half enjoyed. "
"That sentiment does you honor," said the wind; "but for this
purpose wax lights will be necessary. If these are not lighted in you,
your particular faculties will not benefit others in the least. The
stars have not thought of this; they suppose that you and every
other light must be a wax taper: but I must go down now. " So he laid
himself to rest.
"Wax tapers, indeed! " said the lamp, "I have never yet had
these, nor is it likely I ever shall. If I could only be sure of not
being melted down! "
The next day. Well, perhaps we had better pass over the next
day. The evening had come, and the lamp was resting in a grandfather's
chair, and guess where! Why, at the old watchman's house. He had
begged, as a favor, that the mayor and corporation would allow him
to keep the street lamp, in consideration of his long and faithful
service, as he had himself hung it up and lit it on the day he first
commenced his duties, four-and-twenty years ago. He looked upon it
almost as his own child; he had no children, so the lamp was given
to him. There it lay in the great arm-chair near to the warm stove. It
seemed almost as if it had grown larger, for it appeared quite to fill
the chair. The old people sat at their supper, casting friendly
glances at the old lamp, whom they would willingly have admitted to
a place at the table. It is quite true that they dwelt in a cellar,
two yards deep in the earth, and they had to cross a stone passage
to get to their room, but within it was warm and comfortable and
strips of list had been nailed round the door. The bed and the
little window had curtains, and everything looked clean and neat. On
the window seat stood two curious flower-pots which a sailor, named
Christian, had brought over from the East or West Indies. They were of
clay, and in the form of two elephants, with open backs; they were
hollow and filled with earth, and through the open space flowers
bloomed. In one grew some very fine chives or leeks; this was the
kitchen garden. The other elephant, which contained a beautiful
geranium, they called their flower garden. On the wall hung a large
colored print, representing the congress of Vienna, and all the
kings and emperors at once. A clock, with heavy weights, hung on the
wall and went "tick, tick," steadily enough; yet it was always
rather too fast, which, however, the old people said was better than
being too slow. They were now eating their supper, while the old
street lamp, as we have heard, lay in the grandfather's arm-chair near
the stove. It seemed to the lamp as if the whole world had turned
round; but after a while the old watchman looked at the lamp, and
spoke of what they had both gone through together,--in rain and in
fog; during the short bright nights of summer, or in the long winter
nights, through the drifting snow-storms, when he longed to be at home
in the cellar. Then the lamp felt it was all right again. He saw
everything that had happened quite clearly, as if it were passing
before him. Surely the wind had given him an excellent gift. The old
people were very active and industrious, they were never idle for even
a single hour. On Sunday afternoons they would bring out some books,
generally a book of travels which they were very fond of. The old
man would read aloud about Africa, with its great forests and the wild
elephants, while his wife would listen attentively, stealing a
glance now and then at the clay elephants, which served as
flower-pots.
"I can almost imagine I am seeing it all," she said; and then
how the lamp wished for a wax taper to be lighted in him, for then the
old woman would have seen the smallest detail as clearly as he did
himself. The lofty trees, with their thickly entwined branches, the
naked negroes on horseback, and whole herds of elephants treading down
bamboo thickets with their broad, heavy feet.
"What is the use of all my capabilities," sighed the old lamp,
"when I cannot obtain any wax lights; they have only oil and tallow
here, and these will not do. " One day a great heap of wax-candle
ends found their way into the cellar. The larger pieces were burnt,
and the smaller ones the old woman kept for waxing her thread. So
there were now candles enough, but it never occurred to any one to put
a little piece in the lamp.
"Here I am now with my rare powers," thought the lamp, "I have
faculties within me, but I cannot share them; they do not know that
I could cover these white walls with beautiful tapestry, or change
them into noble forests, or, indeed, to anything else they might
wish for. " The lamp, however, was always kept clean and shining in a
corner where it attracted all eyes. Strangers looked upon it as
lumber, but the old people did not care for that; they loved the lamp.
One day--it was the watchman's birthday--the old woman approached
the lamp, smiling to herself, and said, "I will have an illumination
to-day in honor of my old man. " And the lamp rattled in his metal
frame, for he thought, "Now at last I shall have a light within me,"
but after all no wax light was placed in the lamp, but oil as usual.
The lamp burned through the whole evening, and began to perceive too
clearly that the gift of the stars would remain a hidden treasure
all his life. Then he had a dream; for, to one with his faculties,
dreaming was no difficulty. It appeared to him that the old people
were dead, and that he had been taken to the iron foundry to be melted
down. It caused him quite as much anxiety as on the day when he had
been called upon to appear before the mayor and the council at the
town-hall. But though he had been endowed with the power of falling
into decay from rust when he pleased, he did not make use of it. He
was therefore put into the melting-furnace and changed into as elegant
an iron candlestick as you could wish to see, one intended to hold a
wax taper. The candlestick was in the form of an angel holding a
nosegay, in the centre of which the wax taper was to be placed. It was
to stand on a green writing table, in a very pleasant room; many books
were scattered about, and splendid paintings hung on the walls. The
owner of the room was a poet, and a man of intellect; everything he
thought or wrote was pictured around him. Nature showed herself to him
sometimes in the dark forests, at others in cheerful meadows where the
storks were strutting about, or on the deck of a ship sailing across
the foaming sea with the clear, blue sky above, or at night the
glittering stars. "What powers I possess! " said the lamp, awaking from
his dream; "I could almost wish to be melted down; but no, that must
not be while the old people live. They love me for myself alone,
they keep me bright, and supply me with oil. I am as well off as the
picture of the congress, in which they take so much pleasure. " And
from that time he felt at rest in himself, and not more so than such
an honorable old lamp really deserved to be.
OLE-LUK-OIE, THE DREAM-GOD
There is nobody in the world who knows so many stories as
Ole-Luk-Oie, or who can relate them so nicely. In the evening, while
the children are seated at the table or in their little chairs, he
comes up the stairs very softly, for he walks in his socks, then he
opens the doors without the slightest noise, and throws a small
quantity of very fine dust in their eyes, just enough to prevent
them from keeping them open, and so they do not see him. Then he
creeps behind them, and blows softly upon their necks, till their
heads begin to droop. But Ole-Luk-Oie does not wish to hurt them,
for he is very fond of children, and only wants them to be quiet
that he may relate to them pretty stories, and they never are quiet
until they are in bed and asleep. As soon as they are asleep,
Ole-Luk-Oie seats himself upon the bed. He is nicely dressed; his coat
is made of silken stuff; it is impossible to say of what color, for it
changes from green to red, and from red to blue as he turns from
side to side. Under each arm he carries an umbrella; one of them, with
pictures on the inside, he spreads over the good children, and then
they dream the most beautiful stories the whole night. But the other
umbrella has no pictures, and this he holds over the naughty
children so that they sleep heavily, and wake in the morning without
having dreamed at all.
Now we shall hear how Ole-Luk-Oie came every night during a
whole week to the little boy named Hjalmar, and what he told him.
There were seven stories, as there are seven days in the week.
MONDAY
"Now pay attention," said Ole-Luk-Oie, in the evening, when
Hjalmar was in bed, "and I will decorate the room. "
Immediately all the flowers in the flower-pots became large trees,
with long branches reaching to the ceiling, and stretching along the
walls, so that the whole room was like a greenhouse. All the
branches were loaded with flowers, each flower as beautiful and as
fragrant as a rose; and, had any one tasted them, he would have
found them sweeter even than jam. The fruit glittered like gold, and
there were cakes so full of plums that they were nearly bursting. It
was incomparably beautiful. At the same time sounded dismal moans from
the table-drawer in which lay Hjalmar's school books.
"What can that be now? " said Ole-Luk-Oie, going to the table and
pulling out the drawer.
It was a slate, in such distress because of a false number in
the sum, that it had almost broken itself to pieces. The pencil pulled
and tugged at its string as if it were a little dog that wanted to
help, but could not.
And then came a moan from Hjalmar's copy-book. Oh, it was quite
terrible to hear! On each leaf stood a row of capital letters, every
one having a small letter by its side. This formed a copy; under these
were other letters, which Hjalmar had written: they fancied they
looked like the copy, but they were mistaken; for they were leaning on
one side as if they intended to fall over the pencil-lines.
"See, this is the way you should hold yourselves," said the
copy. "Look here, you should slope thus, with a graceful curve. "
"Oh, we are very willing to do so, but we cannot," said
Hjalmar's letters; "we are so wretchedly made. "
"You must be scratched out, then," said Ole-Luk-Oie.
"Oh, no! " they cried, and then they stood up so gracefully it
was quite a pleasure to look at them.
"Now we must give up our stories, and exercise these letters,"
said Ole-Luk-Oie; "One, two--one, two--" So he drilled them till
they stood up gracefully, and looked as beautiful as a copy could
look. But after Ole-Luk-Oie was gone, and Hjalmar looked at them in
the morning, they were as wretched and as awkward as ever.
TUESDAY
As soon as Hjalmar was in bed, Ole-Luk-Oie touched, with his
little magic wand, all the furniture in the room, which immediately
began to chatter, and each article only talked of itself.
Over the chest of drawers hung a large picture in a gilt frame,
representing a landscape, with fine old trees, flowers in the grass,
and a broad stream, which flowed through the wood, past several
castles, far out into the wild ocean. Ole-Luk-Oie touched the
picture with his magic wand, and immediately the birds commenced
singing, the branches of the trees rustled, and the clouds moved
across the sky, casting their shadows on the landscape beneath them.
Then Ole-Luk-Oie lifted little Hjalmar up to the frame, and placed his
feet in the picture, just on the high grass, and there he stood with
the sun shining down upon him through the branches of the trees. He
ran to the water, and seated himself in a little boat which lay there,
and which was painted red and white. The sails glittered like
silver, and six swans, each with a golden circlet round its neck,
and a bright blue star on its forehead, drew the boat past the green
wood, where the trees talked of robbers and witches, and the flowers
of beautiful little elves and fairies, whose histories the butterflies
had related to them. Brilliant fish, with scales like silver and gold,
swam after the boat, sometimes making a spring and splashing the water
round them, while birds, red and blue, small and great, flew after him
in two long lines. The gnats danced round them, and the cockchafers
cried "Buz, buz. " They all wanted to follow Hjalmar, and all had
some story to tell him. It was a most pleasant sail. Sometimes the
forests were thick and dark, sometimes like a beautiful garden, gay
with sunshine and flowers; then he passed great palaces of glass and
of marble, and on the balconies stood princesses, whose faces were
those of little girls whom Hjalmar knew well, and had often played
with.
One of them held out her hand, in which was a heart made of
sugar, more beautiful than any confectioner ever sold. As Hjalmar
sailed by, he caught hold of one side of the sugar heart, and held
it fast, and the princess held fast also, so that it broke in two
pieces. Hjalmar had one piece, and the princess the other, but
Hjalmar's was the largest. At each castle stood little princes
acting as sentinels. They presented arms, and had golden swords, and
made it rain plums and tin soldiers, so that they must have been
real princes.
Hjalmar continued to sail, sometimes through woods, sometimes as
it were through large halls, and then by large cities. At last he came
to the town where his nurse lived, who had carried him in her arms
when he was a very little boy, and had always been kind to him. She
nodded and beckoned to him, and then sang the little verses she had
herself composed and set to him,--
"How oft my memory turns to thee,
My own Hjalmar, ever dear!
When I could watch thy infant glee,
Or kiss away a pearly tear.
'Twas in my arms thy lisping tongue
First spoke the half-remembered word,
While o'er thy tottering steps I hung,
My fond protection to afford.
Farewell! I pray the Heavenly Power
To keep thee till thy dying hour. "
And all the birds sang the same tune, the flowers danced on their
stems, and the old trees nodded as if Ole-Luk-Oie had been telling
them stories as well.
WEDNESDAY
How the rain did pour down! Hjalmar could hear it in his sleep;
and when Ole-Luk-Oie opened the window, the water flowed quite up to
the window-sill. It had the appearance of a large lake outside, and
a beautiful ship lay close to the house.
"Wilt thou sail with me to-night, little Hjalmar? " said
Ole-Luk-Oie; "then we shall see foreign countries, and thou shalt
return here in the morning. "
All in a moment, there stood Hjalmar, in his best clothes, on
the deck of the noble ship; and immediately the weather became fine.
They sailed through the streets, round by the church, and on every
side rolled the wide, great sea. They sailed till the land
disappeared, and then they saw a flock of storks, who had left their
own country, and were travelling to warmer climates. The storks flew
one behind the other, and had already been a long, long time on the
wing. One of them seemed so tired that his wings could scarcely
carry him. He was the last of the row, and was soon left very far
behind. At length he sunk lower and lower, with outstretched wings,
flapping them in vain, till his feet touched the rigging of the
ship, and he slided from the sails to the deck, and stood before them.
Then a sailor-boy caught him, and put him in the hen-house, with the
fowls, the ducks, and the turkeys, while the poor stork stood quite
bewildered amongst them.
"Just look at that fellow," said the chickens.
Then the turkey-cock puffed himself out as large as he could,
and inquired who he was; and the ducks waddled backwards, crying,
"Quack, quack. "
Then the stork told them all about warm Africa, of the pyramids,
and of the ostrich, which, like a wild horse, runs across the
desert. But the ducks did not understand what he said, and quacked
amongst themselves, "We are all of the same opinion; namely, that he
is stupid. "
"Yes, to be sure, he is stupid," said the turkey-cock; and
gobbled.
Then the stork remained quite silent, and thought of his home in
Africa.
"Those are handsome thin legs of yours," said the turkey-cock.
"What do they cost a yard? "
"Quack, quack, quack," grinned the ducks; but, the stork pretended
not to hear.
"You may as well laugh," said the turkey; "for that remark was
rather witty, or perhaps it was above you. Ah, ah, is he not clever?
He will be a great amusement to us while he remains here. " And then he
gobbled, and the ducks quacked, "Gobble, gobble; Quack, quack. "
What a terrible uproar they made, while they were having such
fun among themselves!
Then Hjalmar went to the hen-house; and, opening the door,
called to the stork. Then he hopped out on the deck. He had rested
himself now, and he looked happy, and seemed as if he nodded to
Hjalmar, as if to thank him. Then he spread his wings, and flew away
to warmer countries, while the hens clucked, the ducks quacked, and
the turkey-cock turned quite scarlet in the head.
"To-morrow you shall be made into soup," said Hjalmar to the
fowls; and then he awoke, and found himself lying in his little bed.
It was a wonderful journey which Ole-Luk-Oie had made him take
this night.
THURSDAY
"What do you think I have got here? " said Ole-Luk-Oie, "Do not
be frightened, and you shall see a little mouse. " And then he held out
his hand to him, in which lay a lovely little creature. "It has come
to invite you to a wedding. Two little mice are going to enter into
the marriage state tonight. They reside under the floor of your
mother's store-room, and that must be a fine dwelling-place. "
"But how can I get through the little mouse-hole in the floor? "
asked Hjalmar.
"Leave me to manage that," said Ole-Luk-Oie. "I will soon make you
small enough. " And then he touched Hjalmar with his magic wand,
whereupon he became less and less, until at last he was not longer
than a little finger. "Now you can borrow the dress of the tin
soldier. I think it will just fit you. It looks well to wear a uniform
when you go into company. "
"Yes, certainly," said Hjalmar; and in a moment he was dressed
as neatly as the neatest of all tin soldiers.
"Will you be so good as to seat yourself in your mamma's thimble,"
said the little mouse, "that I may have the pleasure of drawing you to
the wedding. "
"Will you really take so much trouble, young lady? " said
Hjalmar. And so in this way he rode to the mouse's wedding.
First they went under the floor, and then passed through a long
passage, which was scarcely high enough to allow the thimble to
drive under, and the whole passage was lit up with the phosphorescent
light of rotten wood.
"Does it not smell delicious? " asked the mouse, as she drew him
along. "The wall and the floor have been smeared with bacon-rind;
nothing can be nicer. "
Very soon they arrived at the bridal hall. On the right stood
all the little lady-mice, whispering and giggling, as if they were
making game of each other. To the left were the gentlemen-mice,
stroking their whiskers with their fore-paws; and in the centre of the
hall could be seen the bridal pair, standing side by side, in a hollow
cheese-rind, and kissing each other, while all eyes were upon them;
for they had already been betrothed, and were soon to be married. More
and more friends kept arriving, till the mice were nearly treading
each other to death; for the bridal pair now stood in the doorway, and
none could pass in or out.
The room had been rubbed over with bacon-rind, like the passage,
which was all the refreshment offered to the guests. But for dessert
they produced a pea, on which a mouse belonging to the bridal pair had
bitten the first letters of their names. This was something quite
uncommon. All the mice said it was a very beautiful wedding, and
that they had been very agreeably entertained.
After this, Hjalmar returned home. He had certainly been in
grand society; but he had been obliged to creep under a room, and to
make himself small enough to wear the uniform of a tin soldier.
FRIDAY
"It is incredible how many old people there are who would be
glad to have me at night," said Ole-Luk-Oie, "especially those who
have done something wrong. 'Good little Ole,' say they to me, 'we
cannot close our eyes, and we lie awake the whole night and see all
our evil deeds sitting on our beds like little imps, and sprinkling us
with hot water. Will you come and drive them away, that we may have
a good night's rest? ' and then they sigh so deeply and say, 'We
would gladly pay you for it. Good-night, Ole-Luk, the money lies on
the window. ' But I never do anything for gold. " "What shall we do
to-night? " asked Hjalmar. "I do not know whether you would care to
go to another wedding," he replied, "although it is quite a
different affair to the one we saw last night. Your sister's large
doll, that is dressed like a man, and is called Herman, intends to
marry the doll Bertha. It is also the dolls' birthday, and they will
receive many presents. "
"Yes, I know that already," said Hjalmar, "my sister always allows
her dolls to keep their birthdays or to have a wedding when they
require new clothes; that has happened already a hundred times, I am
quite sure. "
"Yes, so it may; but to-night is the hundred and first wedding,
and when that has taken place it must be the last, therefore this is
to be extremely beautiful. Only look. "
Hjalmar looked at the table, and there stood the little card-board
doll's house, with lights in all the windows, and drawn up before it
were the tin soldiers presenting arms. The bridal pair were seated
on the floor, leaning against the leg of the table, looking very
thoughtful, and with good reason. Then Ole-Luk-Oie dressed up in
grandmother's black gown married them.
As soon as the ceremony was concluded, all the furniture in the
room joined in singing a beautiful song, which had been composed by
the lead pencil, and which went to the melody of a military tattoo.
"What merry sounds are on the wind,
As marriage rites together bind
A quiet and a loving pair,
Though formed of kid, yet smooth and fair!
Hurrah! If they are deaf and blind,
We'll sing, though weather prove unkind. "
And now came the present; but the bridal pair had nothing to
eat, for love was to be their food.
"Shall we go to a country house, or travel? " asked the bridegroom.
Then they consulted the swallow who had travelled so far, and
the old hen in the yard, who had brought up five broods of chickens.
And the swallow talked to them of warm countries, where the grapes
hang in large clusters on the vines, and the air is soft and mild, and
about the mountains glowing with colors more beautiful than we can
think of.
"But they have no red cabbage like we have," said the hen, "I
was once in the country with my chickens for a whole summer, there was
a large sand-pit, in which we could walk about and scratch as we
liked. Then we got into a garden in which grew red cabbage; oh, how
nice it was, I cannot think of anything more delicious. "
"But one cabbage stalk is exactly like another," said the swallow;
"and here we have often bad weather. "
"Yes, but we are accustomed to it," said the hen.
"But it is so cold here, and freezes sometimes. "
"Cold weather is good for cabbages," said the hen; "besides we
do have it warm here sometimes. Four years ago, we had a summer that
lasted more than five weeks, and it was so hot one could scarcely
breathe. And then in this country we have no poisonous animals, and we
are free from robbers. He must be wicked who does not consider our
country the finest of all lands. He ought not to be allowed to live
here. " And then the hen wept very much and said, "I have also
travelled. I once went twelve miles in a coop, and it was not pleasant
travelling at all. "
"The hen is a sensible woman," said the doll Bertha. "I don't care
for travelling over mountains, just to go up and come down again.
No, let us go to the sand-pit in front of the gate, and then take a
walk in the cabbage garden. "
And so they settled it.
SATURDAY
"Am I to hear any more stories? " asked little Hjalmar, as soon
as Ole-Luk-Oie had sent him to sleep.
"We shall have no time this evening," said he, spreading out his
prettiest umbrella over the child. "Look at these Chinese," and then
the whole umbrella appeared like a large china bowl, with blue trees
and pointed bridges, upon which stood little Chinamen nodding their
heads. "We must make all the world beautiful for to-morrow morning,"
said Ole-Luk-Oie, "for it will be a holiday, it is Sunday. I must
now go to the church steeple and see if the little sprites who live
there have polished the bells, so that they may sound sweetly. Then
I must go into the fields and see if the wind has blown the dust
from the grass and the leaves, and the most difficult task of all
which I have to do, is to take down all the stars and brighten them
up. I have to number them first before I put them in my apron, and
also to number the places from which I take them, so that they may
go back into the right holes, or else they would not remain, and we
should have a number of falling stars, for they would all tumble
down one after the other. "
"Hark ye! Mr. Luk-Oie," said an old portrait which hung on the
wall of Hjalmar's bedroom. "Do you know me? I am Hjalmar's
great-grandfather. I thank you for telling the boy stories, but you
must not confuse his ideas. The stars cannot be taken down from the
sky and polished; they are spheres like our earth, which is a good
thing for them. "
"Thank you, old great-grandfather," said Ole-Luk-Oie. "I thank
you; you may be the head of the family, as no doubt you are, but I
am older than you. I am an ancient heathen. The old Romans and
Greeks named me the Dream-god. I have visited the noblest houses,
and continue to do so; still I know how to conduct myself both to high
and low, and now you may tell the stories yourself:" and so
Ole-Luk-Oie walked off, taking his umbrellas with him.
"Well, well, one is never to give an opinion, I suppose," grumbled
the portrait. And it woke Hjalmar.
SUNDAY
"Good evening," said Ole-Luk-Oie.
Hjalmar nodded, and then sprang out of bed, and turned his
great-grandfather's portrait to the wall, so that it might not
interrupt them as it had done yesterday. "Now," said he, "you must
tell me some stories about five green peas that lived in one pod; or
of the chickseed that courted the chickweed; or of the darning needle,
who acted so proudly because she fancied herself an embroidery
needle. "
"You may have too much of a good thing," said Ole-Luk-Oie. "You
know that I like best to show you something, so I will show you my
brother. He is also called Ole-Luk-Oie but he never visits any one but
once, and when he does come, he takes him away on his horse, and tells
him stories as they ride along. He knows only two stories. One of
these is so wonderfully beautiful, that no one in the world can
imagine anything at all like it; but the other is just as ugly and
frightful, so that it would be impossible to describe it. " Then
Ole-Luk-Oie lifted Hjalmar up to the window. "There now, you can see
my brother, the other Ole-Luk-Oie; he is also called Death. You
perceive he is not so bad as they represent him in picture books;
there he is a skeleton, but now his coat is embroidered with silver,
and he wears the splendid uniform of a hussar, and a mantle of black
velvet flies behind him, over the horse. Look, how he gallops
along. " Hjalmar saw that as this Ole-Luk-Oie rode on, he lifted up old
and young, and carried them away on his horse. Some he seated in front
of him, and some behind, but always inquired first, "How stands the
mark-book? "
"Good," they all answered.
"Yes, but let me see for myself," he replied; and they were
obliged to give him the books. Then all those who had "Very good,"
or "Exceedingly good," came in front of the horse, and heard the
beautiful story; while those who had "Middling," or "Tolerably
good," in their books, were obliged to sit behind, and listen to the
frightful tale. They trembled and cried, and wanted to jump down
from the horse, but they could not get free, for they seemed
fastened to the seat.
"Why, Death is a most splendid Luk-Oie," said Hjalmar. "I am not
in the least afraid of him. "
"You need have no fear of him," said Ole-Luk-Oie, "if you take
care and keep a good conduct book. "
"Now I call that very instructive," murmured the
great-grandfather's portrait. "It is useful sometimes to express an
opinion;" so he was quite satisfied.
These are some of the doings and sayings of Ole-Luk-Oie. I hope he
may visit you himself this evening, and relate some more.
OLE THE TOWER-KEEPER
"In the world it's always going up and down; and now I can't go up
any higher! " So said Ole the tower-keeper. "Most people have to try
both the ups and the downs; and, rightly considered, we all get to
be watchmen at last, and look down upon life from a height. "
Such was the speech of Ole, my friend, the old tower-keeper, a
strange, talkative old fellow, who seemed to speak out everything that
came into his head, and who for all that had many a serious thought
deep in his heart. Yes, he was the child of respectable people, and
there were even some who said that he was the son of a privy
councillor, or that he might have been. He had studied, too, and had
been assistant teacher and deputy clerk; but of what service was all
that to him? In those days he lived in the clerk's house, and was to
have everything in the house--to be at free quarters, as the saying
is; but he was still, so to speak, a fine young gentleman. He wanted
to have his boots cleaned with patent blacking, and the clerk could
only afford ordinary grease; and upon that point they split. One spoke
of stinginess, the other of vanity, and the blacking became the
black cause of enmity between them, and at last they parted.
This is what he demanded of the world in general, namely, patent
blacking, and he got nothing but grease. Accordingly, he at last
drew back from all men, and became a hermit; but the church tower is
the only place in a great city where hermitage, office and bread can
be found together. So he betook himself up thither, and smoked his
pipe as he made his solitary rounds. He looked upward and downward,
and had his own thoughts, and told in his own way of what he read in
books and in himself. I often lent him books--good books; and you
may know by the company he keeps. He loved neither the English
governess novels nor the French ones, which he called a mixture of
empty wind and raisin-stalks: he wanted biographies, and
descriptions of the wonders of, the world. I visited him at least once
a year, generally directly after New Year's day, and then he always
spoke of this and that which the change of the year had put into his
head.
I will tell the story of three of these visits, and will reproduce
his own words whenever I can remember them.
FIRST VISIT
Among the books which I had lately lent Ole, was one which had
greatly rejoiced and occupied him. It was a geological book,
containing an account of the boulders.
"Yes, they're rare old fellows, those boulders! " he said; "and
to think that we should pass them without noticing them! And over
the street pavement, the paving stones, those fragments of the
oldest remains of antiquity, one walks without ever thinking about
them. I have done the very thing myself. But now I look respectfully
at every paving-stone. Many thanks for the book! It has filled me with
thought, and has made me long to read more on the subject. The romance
of the earth is, after all, the most wonderful of all romances. It's a
pity one can't read the first volume of it, because it is written in a
language that we don't understand. One must read in the different
strata, in the pebble-stones, for each separate period. Yes, it is a
romance, a very wonderful romance, and we all have our place in it. We
grope and ferret about, and yet remain where we are; but the ball
keeps turning, without emptying the ocean over us; the clod on which
we move about, holds, and does not let us through. And then it's a
story that has been acting for thousands upon thousands of years and
is still going on. My best thanks for the book about the boulders.
"Ah, better still! " cried the wife. "You always think of
everything; we have just enough pasture for a sheep. Ewe's milk and
cheese, woollen jackets and stockings! The cow could not give all
these, and her hair only falls off. How you think of everything! "
"But I changed away the sheep for a goose. "
"Then we shall have roast goose to eat this year. You dear old
man, you are always thinking of something to please me. This is
delightful. We can let the goose walk about with a string tied to
her leg, so she will be fatter still before we roast her. "
"But I gave away the goose for a fowl. "
"A fowl! Well, that was a good exchange," replied the woman.
"The fowl will lay eggs and hatch them, and we shall have chickens; we
shall soon have a poultry-yard. Oh, this is just what I was wishing
for. "
"Yes, but I exchanged the fowl for a sack of shrivelled apples. "
"What! I really must give you a kiss for that! " exclaimed the
wife. "My dear, good husband, now I'll tell you something. Do you
know, almost as soon as you left me this morning, I began to think
of what I could give you nice for supper this evening, and then I
thought of fried eggs and bacon, with sweet herbs; I had eggs and
bacon, but I wanted the herbs; so I went over to the schoolmaster's: I
knew they had plenty of herbs, but the schoolmistress is very mean,
although she can smile so sweetly. I begged her to lend me a handful
of herbs. 'Lend! ' she exclaimed, 'I have nothing to lend; nothing at
all grows in our garden, not even a shrivelled apple; I could not even
lend you a shrivelled apple, my dear woman. But now I can lend her
ten, or a whole sackful, which I'm very glad of; it makes me laugh
to think about it;" and then she gave him a hearty kiss.
"Well, I like all this," said both the Englishmen; "always going
down the hill, and yet always merry; it's worth the money to see
it. " So they paid a hundred-weight of gold to the peasant, who,
whatever he did, was not scolded but kissed.
Yes, it always pays best when the wife sees and maintains that her
husband knows best, and whatever he does is right.
That is a story which I heard when I was a child; and now you have
heard it too, and know that "What the old man does is always right. "
THE OLD STREET LAMP
Did you ever hear the story of the old street lamp? It is not
remarkably interesting, but for once in a way you may as well listen
to it. It was a most respectable old lamp, which had seen many, many
years of service, and now was to retire with a pension. It was this
evening at its post for the last time, giving light to the street. His
feelings were something like those of an old dancer at the theatre,
who is dancing for the last time, and knows that on the morrow she
will be in her garret, alone and forgotten. The lamp had very great
anxiety about the next day, for he knew that he had to appear for
the first time at the town hall, to be inspected by the mayor and
the council, who were to decide if he were fit for further service
or not;--whether the lamp was good enough to be used to light the
inhabitants of one of the suburbs, or in the country, at some factory;
and if not, it would be sent at once to an iron foundry, to be
melted down. In this latter case it might be turned into anything, and
he wondered very much whether he would then be able to remember that
he had once been a street lamp, and it troubled him exceedingly.
Whatever might happen, one thing seemed certain, that he would be
separated from the watchman and his wife, whose family he looked
upon as his own. The lamp had first been hung up on that very
evening that the watchman, then a robust young man, had entered upon
the duties of his office. Ah, well, it was a very long time since
one became a lamp and the other a watchman. His wife had a little
pride in those days; she seldom condescended to glance at the lamp,
excepting when she passed by in the evening, never in the daytime. But
in later years, when all these,--the watchman, the wife, and the
lamp--had grown old, she had attended to it, cleaned it, and supplied it
with oil. The old people were thoroughly honest, they had never
cheated the lamp of a single drop of the oil provided for it.
This was the lamp's last night in the street, and to-morrow he
must go to the town-hall,--two very dark things to think of. No wonder
he did not burn brightly. Many other thoughts also passed through
his mind. How many persons he had lighted on their way, and how much
he had seen; as much, very likely, as the mayor and corporation
themselves! None of these thoughts were uttered aloud, however; for he
was a good, honorable old lamp, who would not willingly do harm to any
one, especially to those in authority. As many things were recalled to
his mind, the light would flash up with sudden brightness; he had,
at such moments, a conviction that he would be remembered. "There
was a handsome young man once," thought he; "it is certainly a long
while ago, but I remember he had a little note, written on pink
paper with a gold edge; the writing was elegant, evidently a lady's
hand: twice he read it through, and kissed it, and then looked up at
me, with eyes that said quite plainly, 'I am the happiest of men! '
Only he and I know what was written on this his first letter from
his lady-love. Ah, yes, and there was another pair of eyes that I
remember,--it is really wonderful how the thoughts jump from one thing
to another! A funeral passed through the street; a young and beautiful
woman lay on a bier, decked with garlands of flowers, and attended
by torches, which quite overpowered my light. All along the street
stood the people from the houses, in crowds, ready to join the
procession. But when the torches had passed from before me, and I
could look round, I saw one person alone, standing, leaning against my
post, and weeping. Never shall I forget the sorrowful eyes that looked
up at me. " These and similar reflections occupied the old street lamp,
on this the last time that his light would shine. The sentry, when
he is relieved from his post, knows at least who will succeed him, and
may whisper a few words to him, but the lamp did not know his
successor, or he could have given him a few hints respecting rain,
or mist, and could have informed him how far the moon's rays would
rest on the pavement, and from which side the wind generally blew, and
so on.
On the bridge over the canal stood three persons, who wished to
recommend themselves to the lamp, for they thought he could give the
office to whomsoever he chose. The first was a herring's head, which
could emit light in the darkness. He remarked that it would be a great
saving of oil if they placed him on the lamp-post. Number two was a
piece of rotten wood, which also shines in the dark. He considered
himself descended from an old stem, once the pride of the forest.
The third was a glow-worm, and how he found his way there the lamp
could not imagine, yet there he was, and could really give light as
well as the others. But the rotten wood and the herring's head
declared most solemnly, by all they held sacred, that the glow-worm
only gave light at certain times, and must not be allowed to compete
with themselves. The old lamp assured them that not one of them
could give sufficient light to fill the position of a street lamp; but
they would believe nothing he said. And when they discovered that he
had not the power of naming his successor, they said they were very
glad to hear it, for the lamp was too old and worn-out to make a
proper choice.
At this moment the wind came rushing round the corner of the
street, and through the air-holes of the old lamp. "What is this I
hear? " said he; "that you are going away to-morrow? Is this evening
the last time we shall meet? Then I must present you with a farewell
gift. I will blow into your brain, so that in future you shall not
only be able to remember all that you have seen or heard in the
past, but your light within shall be so bright, that you shall be able
to understand all that is said or done in your presence. "
"Oh, that is really a very, very great gift," said the old lamp;
"I thank you most heartily. I only hope I shall not be melted down. "
"That is not likely to happen yet," said the wind; "and I will
also blow a memory into you, so that should you receive other
similar presents your old age will pass very pleasantly. "
"That is if I am not melted down," said the lamp. "But should I in
that case still retain my memory? "
"Do be reasonable, old lamp," said the wind, puffing away.
At this moment the moon burst forth from the clouds. "What will
you give the old lamp? " asked the wind.
"I can give nothing," she replied; "I am on the wane, and no lamps
have ever given me light while I have frequently shone upon them. " And
with these words the moon hid herself again behind the clouds, that
she might be saved from further importunities. Just then a drop fell
upon the lamp, from the roof of the house, but the drop explained that
he was a gift from those gray clouds, and perhaps the best of all
gifts. "I shall penetrate you so thoroughly," he said, "that you
will have the power of becoming rusty, and, if you wish it, to crumble
into dust in one night. "
But this seemed to the lamp a very shabby present, and the wind
thought so too. "Does no one give any more? Will no one give any
more? " shouted the breath of the wind, as loud as it could. Then a
bright falling star came down, leaving a broad, luminous streak behind
it.
"What was that? " cried the herring's head. "Did not a star fall? I
really believe it went into the lamp. Certainly, when such high-born
personages try for the office, we may as well say 'Good-night,' and go
home. "
And so they did, all three, while the old lamp threw a wonderfully
strong light all around him.
"This is a glorious gift," said he; "the bright stars have
always been a joy to me, and have always shone more brilliantly than I
ever could shine, though I have tried with my whole might; and now
they have noticed me, a poor old lamp, and have sent me a gift that
will enable me to see clearly everything that I remember, as if it
still stood before me, and to be seen by all those who love me. And
herein lies the truest pleasure, for joy which we cannot share with
others is only half enjoyed. "
"That sentiment does you honor," said the wind; "but for this
purpose wax lights will be necessary. If these are not lighted in you,
your particular faculties will not benefit others in the least. The
stars have not thought of this; they suppose that you and every
other light must be a wax taper: but I must go down now. " So he laid
himself to rest.
"Wax tapers, indeed! " said the lamp, "I have never yet had
these, nor is it likely I ever shall. If I could only be sure of not
being melted down! "
The next day. Well, perhaps we had better pass over the next
day. The evening had come, and the lamp was resting in a grandfather's
chair, and guess where! Why, at the old watchman's house. He had
begged, as a favor, that the mayor and corporation would allow him
to keep the street lamp, in consideration of his long and faithful
service, as he had himself hung it up and lit it on the day he first
commenced his duties, four-and-twenty years ago. He looked upon it
almost as his own child; he had no children, so the lamp was given
to him. There it lay in the great arm-chair near to the warm stove. It
seemed almost as if it had grown larger, for it appeared quite to fill
the chair. The old people sat at their supper, casting friendly
glances at the old lamp, whom they would willingly have admitted to
a place at the table. It is quite true that they dwelt in a cellar,
two yards deep in the earth, and they had to cross a stone passage
to get to their room, but within it was warm and comfortable and
strips of list had been nailed round the door. The bed and the
little window had curtains, and everything looked clean and neat. On
the window seat stood two curious flower-pots which a sailor, named
Christian, had brought over from the East or West Indies. They were of
clay, and in the form of two elephants, with open backs; they were
hollow and filled with earth, and through the open space flowers
bloomed. In one grew some very fine chives or leeks; this was the
kitchen garden. The other elephant, which contained a beautiful
geranium, they called their flower garden. On the wall hung a large
colored print, representing the congress of Vienna, and all the
kings and emperors at once. A clock, with heavy weights, hung on the
wall and went "tick, tick," steadily enough; yet it was always
rather too fast, which, however, the old people said was better than
being too slow. They were now eating their supper, while the old
street lamp, as we have heard, lay in the grandfather's arm-chair near
the stove. It seemed to the lamp as if the whole world had turned
round; but after a while the old watchman looked at the lamp, and
spoke of what they had both gone through together,--in rain and in
fog; during the short bright nights of summer, or in the long winter
nights, through the drifting snow-storms, when he longed to be at home
in the cellar. Then the lamp felt it was all right again. He saw
everything that had happened quite clearly, as if it were passing
before him. Surely the wind had given him an excellent gift. The old
people were very active and industrious, they were never idle for even
a single hour. On Sunday afternoons they would bring out some books,
generally a book of travels which they were very fond of. The old
man would read aloud about Africa, with its great forests and the wild
elephants, while his wife would listen attentively, stealing a
glance now and then at the clay elephants, which served as
flower-pots.
"I can almost imagine I am seeing it all," she said; and then
how the lamp wished for a wax taper to be lighted in him, for then the
old woman would have seen the smallest detail as clearly as he did
himself. The lofty trees, with their thickly entwined branches, the
naked negroes on horseback, and whole herds of elephants treading down
bamboo thickets with their broad, heavy feet.
"What is the use of all my capabilities," sighed the old lamp,
"when I cannot obtain any wax lights; they have only oil and tallow
here, and these will not do. " One day a great heap of wax-candle
ends found their way into the cellar. The larger pieces were burnt,
and the smaller ones the old woman kept for waxing her thread. So
there were now candles enough, but it never occurred to any one to put
a little piece in the lamp.
"Here I am now with my rare powers," thought the lamp, "I have
faculties within me, but I cannot share them; they do not know that
I could cover these white walls with beautiful tapestry, or change
them into noble forests, or, indeed, to anything else they might
wish for. " The lamp, however, was always kept clean and shining in a
corner where it attracted all eyes. Strangers looked upon it as
lumber, but the old people did not care for that; they loved the lamp.
One day--it was the watchman's birthday--the old woman approached
the lamp, smiling to herself, and said, "I will have an illumination
to-day in honor of my old man. " And the lamp rattled in his metal
frame, for he thought, "Now at last I shall have a light within me,"
but after all no wax light was placed in the lamp, but oil as usual.
The lamp burned through the whole evening, and began to perceive too
clearly that the gift of the stars would remain a hidden treasure
all his life. Then he had a dream; for, to one with his faculties,
dreaming was no difficulty. It appeared to him that the old people
were dead, and that he had been taken to the iron foundry to be melted
down. It caused him quite as much anxiety as on the day when he had
been called upon to appear before the mayor and the council at the
town-hall. But though he had been endowed with the power of falling
into decay from rust when he pleased, he did not make use of it. He
was therefore put into the melting-furnace and changed into as elegant
an iron candlestick as you could wish to see, one intended to hold a
wax taper. The candlestick was in the form of an angel holding a
nosegay, in the centre of which the wax taper was to be placed. It was
to stand on a green writing table, in a very pleasant room; many books
were scattered about, and splendid paintings hung on the walls. The
owner of the room was a poet, and a man of intellect; everything he
thought or wrote was pictured around him. Nature showed herself to him
sometimes in the dark forests, at others in cheerful meadows where the
storks were strutting about, or on the deck of a ship sailing across
the foaming sea with the clear, blue sky above, or at night the
glittering stars. "What powers I possess! " said the lamp, awaking from
his dream; "I could almost wish to be melted down; but no, that must
not be while the old people live. They love me for myself alone,
they keep me bright, and supply me with oil. I am as well off as the
picture of the congress, in which they take so much pleasure. " And
from that time he felt at rest in himself, and not more so than such
an honorable old lamp really deserved to be.
OLE-LUK-OIE, THE DREAM-GOD
There is nobody in the world who knows so many stories as
Ole-Luk-Oie, or who can relate them so nicely. In the evening, while
the children are seated at the table or in their little chairs, he
comes up the stairs very softly, for he walks in his socks, then he
opens the doors without the slightest noise, and throws a small
quantity of very fine dust in their eyes, just enough to prevent
them from keeping them open, and so they do not see him. Then he
creeps behind them, and blows softly upon their necks, till their
heads begin to droop. But Ole-Luk-Oie does not wish to hurt them,
for he is very fond of children, and only wants them to be quiet
that he may relate to them pretty stories, and they never are quiet
until they are in bed and asleep. As soon as they are asleep,
Ole-Luk-Oie seats himself upon the bed. He is nicely dressed; his coat
is made of silken stuff; it is impossible to say of what color, for it
changes from green to red, and from red to blue as he turns from
side to side. Under each arm he carries an umbrella; one of them, with
pictures on the inside, he spreads over the good children, and then
they dream the most beautiful stories the whole night. But the other
umbrella has no pictures, and this he holds over the naughty
children so that they sleep heavily, and wake in the morning without
having dreamed at all.
Now we shall hear how Ole-Luk-Oie came every night during a
whole week to the little boy named Hjalmar, and what he told him.
There were seven stories, as there are seven days in the week.
MONDAY
"Now pay attention," said Ole-Luk-Oie, in the evening, when
Hjalmar was in bed, "and I will decorate the room. "
Immediately all the flowers in the flower-pots became large trees,
with long branches reaching to the ceiling, and stretching along the
walls, so that the whole room was like a greenhouse. All the
branches were loaded with flowers, each flower as beautiful and as
fragrant as a rose; and, had any one tasted them, he would have
found them sweeter even than jam. The fruit glittered like gold, and
there were cakes so full of plums that they were nearly bursting. It
was incomparably beautiful. At the same time sounded dismal moans from
the table-drawer in which lay Hjalmar's school books.
"What can that be now? " said Ole-Luk-Oie, going to the table and
pulling out the drawer.
It was a slate, in such distress because of a false number in
the sum, that it had almost broken itself to pieces. The pencil pulled
and tugged at its string as if it were a little dog that wanted to
help, but could not.
And then came a moan from Hjalmar's copy-book. Oh, it was quite
terrible to hear! On each leaf stood a row of capital letters, every
one having a small letter by its side. This formed a copy; under these
were other letters, which Hjalmar had written: they fancied they
looked like the copy, but they were mistaken; for they were leaning on
one side as if they intended to fall over the pencil-lines.
"See, this is the way you should hold yourselves," said the
copy. "Look here, you should slope thus, with a graceful curve. "
"Oh, we are very willing to do so, but we cannot," said
Hjalmar's letters; "we are so wretchedly made. "
"You must be scratched out, then," said Ole-Luk-Oie.
"Oh, no! " they cried, and then they stood up so gracefully it
was quite a pleasure to look at them.
"Now we must give up our stories, and exercise these letters,"
said Ole-Luk-Oie; "One, two--one, two--" So he drilled them till
they stood up gracefully, and looked as beautiful as a copy could
look. But after Ole-Luk-Oie was gone, and Hjalmar looked at them in
the morning, they were as wretched and as awkward as ever.
TUESDAY
As soon as Hjalmar was in bed, Ole-Luk-Oie touched, with his
little magic wand, all the furniture in the room, which immediately
began to chatter, and each article only talked of itself.
Over the chest of drawers hung a large picture in a gilt frame,
representing a landscape, with fine old trees, flowers in the grass,
and a broad stream, which flowed through the wood, past several
castles, far out into the wild ocean. Ole-Luk-Oie touched the
picture with his magic wand, and immediately the birds commenced
singing, the branches of the trees rustled, and the clouds moved
across the sky, casting their shadows on the landscape beneath them.
Then Ole-Luk-Oie lifted little Hjalmar up to the frame, and placed his
feet in the picture, just on the high grass, and there he stood with
the sun shining down upon him through the branches of the trees. He
ran to the water, and seated himself in a little boat which lay there,
and which was painted red and white. The sails glittered like
silver, and six swans, each with a golden circlet round its neck,
and a bright blue star on its forehead, drew the boat past the green
wood, where the trees talked of robbers and witches, and the flowers
of beautiful little elves and fairies, whose histories the butterflies
had related to them. Brilliant fish, with scales like silver and gold,
swam after the boat, sometimes making a spring and splashing the water
round them, while birds, red and blue, small and great, flew after him
in two long lines. The gnats danced round them, and the cockchafers
cried "Buz, buz. " They all wanted to follow Hjalmar, and all had
some story to tell him. It was a most pleasant sail. Sometimes the
forests were thick and dark, sometimes like a beautiful garden, gay
with sunshine and flowers; then he passed great palaces of glass and
of marble, and on the balconies stood princesses, whose faces were
those of little girls whom Hjalmar knew well, and had often played
with.
One of them held out her hand, in which was a heart made of
sugar, more beautiful than any confectioner ever sold. As Hjalmar
sailed by, he caught hold of one side of the sugar heart, and held
it fast, and the princess held fast also, so that it broke in two
pieces. Hjalmar had one piece, and the princess the other, but
Hjalmar's was the largest. At each castle stood little princes
acting as sentinels. They presented arms, and had golden swords, and
made it rain plums and tin soldiers, so that they must have been
real princes.
Hjalmar continued to sail, sometimes through woods, sometimes as
it were through large halls, and then by large cities. At last he came
to the town where his nurse lived, who had carried him in her arms
when he was a very little boy, and had always been kind to him. She
nodded and beckoned to him, and then sang the little verses she had
herself composed and set to him,--
"How oft my memory turns to thee,
My own Hjalmar, ever dear!
When I could watch thy infant glee,
Or kiss away a pearly tear.
'Twas in my arms thy lisping tongue
First spoke the half-remembered word,
While o'er thy tottering steps I hung,
My fond protection to afford.
Farewell! I pray the Heavenly Power
To keep thee till thy dying hour. "
And all the birds sang the same tune, the flowers danced on their
stems, and the old trees nodded as if Ole-Luk-Oie had been telling
them stories as well.
WEDNESDAY
How the rain did pour down! Hjalmar could hear it in his sleep;
and when Ole-Luk-Oie opened the window, the water flowed quite up to
the window-sill. It had the appearance of a large lake outside, and
a beautiful ship lay close to the house.
"Wilt thou sail with me to-night, little Hjalmar? " said
Ole-Luk-Oie; "then we shall see foreign countries, and thou shalt
return here in the morning. "
All in a moment, there stood Hjalmar, in his best clothes, on
the deck of the noble ship; and immediately the weather became fine.
They sailed through the streets, round by the church, and on every
side rolled the wide, great sea. They sailed till the land
disappeared, and then they saw a flock of storks, who had left their
own country, and were travelling to warmer climates. The storks flew
one behind the other, and had already been a long, long time on the
wing. One of them seemed so tired that his wings could scarcely
carry him. He was the last of the row, and was soon left very far
behind. At length he sunk lower and lower, with outstretched wings,
flapping them in vain, till his feet touched the rigging of the
ship, and he slided from the sails to the deck, and stood before them.
Then a sailor-boy caught him, and put him in the hen-house, with the
fowls, the ducks, and the turkeys, while the poor stork stood quite
bewildered amongst them.
"Just look at that fellow," said the chickens.
Then the turkey-cock puffed himself out as large as he could,
and inquired who he was; and the ducks waddled backwards, crying,
"Quack, quack. "
Then the stork told them all about warm Africa, of the pyramids,
and of the ostrich, which, like a wild horse, runs across the
desert. But the ducks did not understand what he said, and quacked
amongst themselves, "We are all of the same opinion; namely, that he
is stupid. "
"Yes, to be sure, he is stupid," said the turkey-cock; and
gobbled.
Then the stork remained quite silent, and thought of his home in
Africa.
"Those are handsome thin legs of yours," said the turkey-cock.
"What do they cost a yard? "
"Quack, quack, quack," grinned the ducks; but, the stork pretended
not to hear.
"You may as well laugh," said the turkey; "for that remark was
rather witty, or perhaps it was above you. Ah, ah, is he not clever?
He will be a great amusement to us while he remains here. " And then he
gobbled, and the ducks quacked, "Gobble, gobble; Quack, quack. "
What a terrible uproar they made, while they were having such
fun among themselves!
Then Hjalmar went to the hen-house; and, opening the door,
called to the stork. Then he hopped out on the deck. He had rested
himself now, and he looked happy, and seemed as if he nodded to
Hjalmar, as if to thank him. Then he spread his wings, and flew away
to warmer countries, while the hens clucked, the ducks quacked, and
the turkey-cock turned quite scarlet in the head.
"To-morrow you shall be made into soup," said Hjalmar to the
fowls; and then he awoke, and found himself lying in his little bed.
It was a wonderful journey which Ole-Luk-Oie had made him take
this night.
THURSDAY
"What do you think I have got here? " said Ole-Luk-Oie, "Do not
be frightened, and you shall see a little mouse. " And then he held out
his hand to him, in which lay a lovely little creature. "It has come
to invite you to a wedding. Two little mice are going to enter into
the marriage state tonight. They reside under the floor of your
mother's store-room, and that must be a fine dwelling-place. "
"But how can I get through the little mouse-hole in the floor? "
asked Hjalmar.
"Leave me to manage that," said Ole-Luk-Oie. "I will soon make you
small enough. " And then he touched Hjalmar with his magic wand,
whereupon he became less and less, until at last he was not longer
than a little finger. "Now you can borrow the dress of the tin
soldier. I think it will just fit you. It looks well to wear a uniform
when you go into company. "
"Yes, certainly," said Hjalmar; and in a moment he was dressed
as neatly as the neatest of all tin soldiers.
"Will you be so good as to seat yourself in your mamma's thimble,"
said the little mouse, "that I may have the pleasure of drawing you to
the wedding. "
"Will you really take so much trouble, young lady? " said
Hjalmar. And so in this way he rode to the mouse's wedding.
First they went under the floor, and then passed through a long
passage, which was scarcely high enough to allow the thimble to
drive under, and the whole passage was lit up with the phosphorescent
light of rotten wood.
"Does it not smell delicious? " asked the mouse, as she drew him
along. "The wall and the floor have been smeared with bacon-rind;
nothing can be nicer. "
Very soon they arrived at the bridal hall. On the right stood
all the little lady-mice, whispering and giggling, as if they were
making game of each other. To the left were the gentlemen-mice,
stroking their whiskers with their fore-paws; and in the centre of the
hall could be seen the bridal pair, standing side by side, in a hollow
cheese-rind, and kissing each other, while all eyes were upon them;
for they had already been betrothed, and were soon to be married. More
and more friends kept arriving, till the mice were nearly treading
each other to death; for the bridal pair now stood in the doorway, and
none could pass in or out.
The room had been rubbed over with bacon-rind, like the passage,
which was all the refreshment offered to the guests. But for dessert
they produced a pea, on which a mouse belonging to the bridal pair had
bitten the first letters of their names. This was something quite
uncommon. All the mice said it was a very beautiful wedding, and
that they had been very agreeably entertained.
After this, Hjalmar returned home. He had certainly been in
grand society; but he had been obliged to creep under a room, and to
make himself small enough to wear the uniform of a tin soldier.
FRIDAY
"It is incredible how many old people there are who would be
glad to have me at night," said Ole-Luk-Oie, "especially those who
have done something wrong. 'Good little Ole,' say they to me, 'we
cannot close our eyes, and we lie awake the whole night and see all
our evil deeds sitting on our beds like little imps, and sprinkling us
with hot water. Will you come and drive them away, that we may have
a good night's rest? ' and then they sigh so deeply and say, 'We
would gladly pay you for it. Good-night, Ole-Luk, the money lies on
the window. ' But I never do anything for gold. " "What shall we do
to-night? " asked Hjalmar. "I do not know whether you would care to
go to another wedding," he replied, "although it is quite a
different affair to the one we saw last night. Your sister's large
doll, that is dressed like a man, and is called Herman, intends to
marry the doll Bertha. It is also the dolls' birthday, and they will
receive many presents. "
"Yes, I know that already," said Hjalmar, "my sister always allows
her dolls to keep their birthdays or to have a wedding when they
require new clothes; that has happened already a hundred times, I am
quite sure. "
"Yes, so it may; but to-night is the hundred and first wedding,
and when that has taken place it must be the last, therefore this is
to be extremely beautiful. Only look. "
Hjalmar looked at the table, and there stood the little card-board
doll's house, with lights in all the windows, and drawn up before it
were the tin soldiers presenting arms. The bridal pair were seated
on the floor, leaning against the leg of the table, looking very
thoughtful, and with good reason. Then Ole-Luk-Oie dressed up in
grandmother's black gown married them.
As soon as the ceremony was concluded, all the furniture in the
room joined in singing a beautiful song, which had been composed by
the lead pencil, and which went to the melody of a military tattoo.
"What merry sounds are on the wind,
As marriage rites together bind
A quiet and a loving pair,
Though formed of kid, yet smooth and fair!
Hurrah! If they are deaf and blind,
We'll sing, though weather prove unkind. "
And now came the present; but the bridal pair had nothing to
eat, for love was to be their food.
"Shall we go to a country house, or travel? " asked the bridegroom.
Then they consulted the swallow who had travelled so far, and
the old hen in the yard, who had brought up five broods of chickens.
And the swallow talked to them of warm countries, where the grapes
hang in large clusters on the vines, and the air is soft and mild, and
about the mountains glowing with colors more beautiful than we can
think of.
"But they have no red cabbage like we have," said the hen, "I
was once in the country with my chickens for a whole summer, there was
a large sand-pit, in which we could walk about and scratch as we
liked. Then we got into a garden in which grew red cabbage; oh, how
nice it was, I cannot think of anything more delicious. "
"But one cabbage stalk is exactly like another," said the swallow;
"and here we have often bad weather. "
"Yes, but we are accustomed to it," said the hen.
"But it is so cold here, and freezes sometimes. "
"Cold weather is good for cabbages," said the hen; "besides we
do have it warm here sometimes. Four years ago, we had a summer that
lasted more than five weeks, and it was so hot one could scarcely
breathe. And then in this country we have no poisonous animals, and we
are free from robbers. He must be wicked who does not consider our
country the finest of all lands. He ought not to be allowed to live
here. " And then the hen wept very much and said, "I have also
travelled. I once went twelve miles in a coop, and it was not pleasant
travelling at all. "
"The hen is a sensible woman," said the doll Bertha. "I don't care
for travelling over mountains, just to go up and come down again.
No, let us go to the sand-pit in front of the gate, and then take a
walk in the cabbage garden. "
And so they settled it.
SATURDAY
"Am I to hear any more stories? " asked little Hjalmar, as soon
as Ole-Luk-Oie had sent him to sleep.
"We shall have no time this evening," said he, spreading out his
prettiest umbrella over the child. "Look at these Chinese," and then
the whole umbrella appeared like a large china bowl, with blue trees
and pointed bridges, upon which stood little Chinamen nodding their
heads. "We must make all the world beautiful for to-morrow morning,"
said Ole-Luk-Oie, "for it will be a holiday, it is Sunday. I must
now go to the church steeple and see if the little sprites who live
there have polished the bells, so that they may sound sweetly. Then
I must go into the fields and see if the wind has blown the dust
from the grass and the leaves, and the most difficult task of all
which I have to do, is to take down all the stars and brighten them
up. I have to number them first before I put them in my apron, and
also to number the places from which I take them, so that they may
go back into the right holes, or else they would not remain, and we
should have a number of falling stars, for they would all tumble
down one after the other. "
"Hark ye! Mr. Luk-Oie," said an old portrait which hung on the
wall of Hjalmar's bedroom. "Do you know me? I am Hjalmar's
great-grandfather. I thank you for telling the boy stories, but you
must not confuse his ideas. The stars cannot be taken down from the
sky and polished; they are spheres like our earth, which is a good
thing for them. "
"Thank you, old great-grandfather," said Ole-Luk-Oie. "I thank
you; you may be the head of the family, as no doubt you are, but I
am older than you. I am an ancient heathen. The old Romans and
Greeks named me the Dream-god. I have visited the noblest houses,
and continue to do so; still I know how to conduct myself both to high
and low, and now you may tell the stories yourself:" and so
Ole-Luk-Oie walked off, taking his umbrellas with him.
"Well, well, one is never to give an opinion, I suppose," grumbled
the portrait. And it woke Hjalmar.
SUNDAY
"Good evening," said Ole-Luk-Oie.
Hjalmar nodded, and then sprang out of bed, and turned his
great-grandfather's portrait to the wall, so that it might not
interrupt them as it had done yesterday. "Now," said he, "you must
tell me some stories about five green peas that lived in one pod; or
of the chickseed that courted the chickweed; or of the darning needle,
who acted so proudly because she fancied herself an embroidery
needle. "
"You may have too much of a good thing," said Ole-Luk-Oie. "You
know that I like best to show you something, so I will show you my
brother. He is also called Ole-Luk-Oie but he never visits any one but
once, and when he does come, he takes him away on his horse, and tells
him stories as they ride along. He knows only two stories. One of
these is so wonderfully beautiful, that no one in the world can
imagine anything at all like it; but the other is just as ugly and
frightful, so that it would be impossible to describe it. " Then
Ole-Luk-Oie lifted Hjalmar up to the window. "There now, you can see
my brother, the other Ole-Luk-Oie; he is also called Death. You
perceive he is not so bad as they represent him in picture books;
there he is a skeleton, but now his coat is embroidered with silver,
and he wears the splendid uniform of a hussar, and a mantle of black
velvet flies behind him, over the horse. Look, how he gallops
along. " Hjalmar saw that as this Ole-Luk-Oie rode on, he lifted up old
and young, and carried them away on his horse. Some he seated in front
of him, and some behind, but always inquired first, "How stands the
mark-book? "
"Good," they all answered.
"Yes, but let me see for myself," he replied; and they were
obliged to give him the books. Then all those who had "Very good,"
or "Exceedingly good," came in front of the horse, and heard the
beautiful story; while those who had "Middling," or "Tolerably
good," in their books, were obliged to sit behind, and listen to the
frightful tale. They trembled and cried, and wanted to jump down
from the horse, but they could not get free, for they seemed
fastened to the seat.
"Why, Death is a most splendid Luk-Oie," said Hjalmar. "I am not
in the least afraid of him. "
"You need have no fear of him," said Ole-Luk-Oie, "if you take
care and keep a good conduct book. "
"Now I call that very instructive," murmured the
great-grandfather's portrait. "It is useful sometimes to express an
opinion;" so he was quite satisfied.
These are some of the doings and sayings of Ole-Luk-Oie. I hope he
may visit you himself this evening, and relate some more.
OLE THE TOWER-KEEPER
"In the world it's always going up and down; and now I can't go up
any higher! " So said Ole the tower-keeper. "Most people have to try
both the ups and the downs; and, rightly considered, we all get to
be watchmen at last, and look down upon life from a height. "
Such was the speech of Ole, my friend, the old tower-keeper, a
strange, talkative old fellow, who seemed to speak out everything that
came into his head, and who for all that had many a serious thought
deep in his heart. Yes, he was the child of respectable people, and
there were even some who said that he was the son of a privy
councillor, or that he might have been. He had studied, too, and had
been assistant teacher and deputy clerk; but of what service was all
that to him? In those days he lived in the clerk's house, and was to
have everything in the house--to be at free quarters, as the saying
is; but he was still, so to speak, a fine young gentleman. He wanted
to have his boots cleaned with patent blacking, and the clerk could
only afford ordinary grease; and upon that point they split. One spoke
of stinginess, the other of vanity, and the blacking became the
black cause of enmity between them, and at last they parted.
This is what he demanded of the world in general, namely, patent
blacking, and he got nothing but grease. Accordingly, he at last
drew back from all men, and became a hermit; but the church tower is
the only place in a great city where hermitage, office and bread can
be found together. So he betook himself up thither, and smoked his
pipe as he made his solitary rounds. He looked upward and downward,
and had his own thoughts, and told in his own way of what he read in
books and in himself. I often lent him books--good books; and you
may know by the company he keeps. He loved neither the English
governess novels nor the French ones, which he called a mixture of
empty wind and raisin-stalks: he wanted biographies, and
descriptions of the wonders of, the world. I visited him at least once
a year, generally directly after New Year's day, and then he always
spoke of this and that which the change of the year had put into his
head.
I will tell the story of three of these visits, and will reproduce
his own words whenever I can remember them.
FIRST VISIT
Among the books which I had lately lent Ole, was one which had
greatly rejoiced and occupied him. It was a geological book,
containing an account of the boulders.
"Yes, they're rare old fellows, those boulders! " he said; "and
to think that we should pass them without noticing them! And over
the street pavement, the paving stones, those fragments of the
oldest remains of antiquity, one walks without ever thinking about
them. I have done the very thing myself. But now I look respectfully
at every paving-stone. Many thanks for the book! It has filled me with
thought, and has made me long to read more on the subject. The romance
of the earth is, after all, the most wonderful of all romances. It's a
pity one can't read the first volume of it, because it is written in a
language that we don't understand. One must read in the different
strata, in the pebble-stones, for each separate period. Yes, it is a
romance, a very wonderful romance, and we all have our place in it. We
grope and ferret about, and yet remain where we are; but the ball
keeps turning, without emptying the ocean over us; the clod on which
we move about, holds, and does not let us through. And then it's a
story that has been acting for thousands upon thousands of years and
is still going on. My best thanks for the book about the boulders.
