No More Learning

" And he ran on day
and night still faster and faster, but the loaves and the ham were all
eaten by the time they reached Lapland.


SIXTH STORY

THE LAPLAND WOMAN AND THE FINLAND WOMAN


They stopped at a little hut; it was very mean looking; the roof
sloped nearly down to the ground, and the door was so low that the
family had to creep in on their hands and knees, when they went in and
out. There was no one at home but an old Lapland woman, who was
cooking fish by the light of a train-oil lamp. The reindeer told her
all about Gerda's story, after having first told his own, which seemed
to him the most important, but Gerda was so pinched with the cold that
she could not speak. "Oh, you poor things," said the Lapland woman,
"you have a long way to go yet. You must travel more than a hundred
miles farther, to Finland. The Snow Queen lives there now, and she
burns Bengal lights every evening. I will write a few words on a dried
stock-fish, for I have no paper, and you can take it from me to the
Finland woman who lives there; she can give you better information
than I can. " So when Gerda was warmed, and had taken something to
eat and drink, the woman wrote a few words on the dried fish, and told
Gerda to take great care of it. Then she tied her again on the
reindeer, and he set off at full speed. Flash, flash, went the
beautiful blue northern lights in the air the whole night long. And at
length they reached Finland, and knocked at the chimney of the Finland
woman's hut, for it had no door above the ground. They crept in, but
it was so terribly hot inside that that woman wore scarcely any
clothes; she was small and very dirty looking. She loosened little
Gerda's dress, and took off the fur boots and the mittens, or Gerda
would have been unable to bear the heat; and then she placed a piece
of ice on the reindeer's head, and read what was written on the
dried fish. After she had read it three times, she knew it by heart,
so she popped the fish into the soup saucepan, as she knew it was good
to eat, and she never wasted anything. The reindeer told his own story
first, and then little Gerda's, and the Finlander twinkled with her
clever eyes, but she said nothing. "You are so clever," said the
reindeer; "I know you can tie all the winds of the world with a
piece of twine. If a sailor unties one knot, he has a fair wind;
when he unties the second, it blows hard; but if the third and
fourth are loosened, then comes a storm, which will root up whole
forests. Cannot you give this little maiden something which will
make her as strong as twelve men, to overcome the Snow Queen? "

"The Power of twelve men! " said the Finland woman; "that would
be of very little use. " But she went to a shelf and took down and
unrolled a large skin, on which were inscribed wonderful characters,
and she read till the perspiration ran down from her forehead. But the
reindeer begged so hard for little Gerda, and Gerda looked at the
Finland woman with such beseeching tearful eyes, that her own eyes
began to twinkle again; so she drew the reindeer into a corner, and
whispered to him while she laid a fresh piece of ice on his head,
"Little Kay is really with the Snow Queen, but he finds everything
there so much to his taste and his liking, that he believes it is
the finest place in the world; but this is because he has a piece of
broken glass in his heart, and a little piece of glass in his eye.
These must be taken out, or he will never be a human being again,
and the Snow Queen will retain her power over him. "

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

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

"Oh, I have forgotten my boots and my mittens," cried little
Gerda, as soon as she felt the cutting cold, but the reindeer dared
not stop, so he ran on till he reached the bush with the red
berries; here he set Gerda down, and he kissed her, and the great
bright tears trickled over the animal's cheeks; then he left her and
ran back as fast as he could.

There stood poor Gerda, without shoes, without gloves, in the
midst of cold, dreary, ice-bound Finland. She ran forwards as
quickly as she could, when a whole regiment of snow-flakes came
round her; they did not, however, fall from the sky, which was quite
clear and glittering with the northern lights. The snow-flakes ran
along the ground, and the nearer they came to her, the larger they
appeared. Gerda remembered how large and beautiful they looked through
the burning-glass. But these were really larger, and much more
terrible, for they were alive, and were the guards of the Snow
Queen, and had the strangest shapes. Some were like great
porcupines, others like twisted serpents with their heads stretching
out, and some few were like little fat bears with their hair bristled;
but all were dazzlingly white, and all were living snow-flakes. Then
little Gerda repeated the Lord's Prayer, and the cold was so great
that she could see her own breath come out of her mouth like steam
as she uttered the words. The steam appeared to increase, as she
continued her prayer, till it took the shape of little angels who grew
larger the moment they touched the earth. They all wore helmets on
their heads, and carried spears and shields. Their number continued to
increase more and more; and by the time Gerda had finished her
prayers, a whole legion stood round her. They thrust their spears into
the terrible snow-flakes, so that they shivered into a hundred pieces,
and little Gerda could go forward with courage and safety. The
angels stroked her hands and feet, so that she felt the cold less, and
she hastened on to the Snow Queen's castle.

But now we must see what Kay is doing. In truth he thought not
of little Gerda, and never supposed she could be standing in the front
of the palace.


SEVENTH STORY

OF THE PALACE OF THE SNOW QUEEN AND WHAT HAPPENED THERE AT LAST


The walls of the palace were formed of drifted snow, and the
windows and doors of the cutting winds. There were more than a hundred
rooms in it, all as if they had been formed with snow blown
together. The largest of them extended for several miles; they were
all lighted up by the vivid light of the aurora, and they were so
large and empty, so icy cold and glittering! There were no
amusements here, not even a little bear's ball, when the storm might
have been the music, and the bears could have danced on their hind
legs, and shown their good manners. There were no pleasant games of
snap-dragon, or touch, or even a gossip over the tea-table, for the
young-lady foxes. Empty, vast, and cold were the halls of the Snow
Queen. The flickering flame of the northern lights could be plainly
seen, whether they rose high or low in the heavens, from every part of
the castle. In the midst of its empty, endless hall of snow was a
frozen lake, broken on its surface into a thousand forms; each piece
resembled another, from being in itself perfect as a work of art,
and in the centre of this lake sat the Snow Queen, when she was at
home. She called the lake "The Mirror of Reason," and said that it was
the best, and indeed the only one in the world.

Little Kay was quite blue with cold, indeed almost black, but he
did not feel it; for the Snow Queen had kissed away the icy
shiverings, and his heart was already a lump of ice. He dragged some
sharp, flat pieces of ice to and fro, and placed them together in
all kinds of positions, as if he wished to make something out of them;
just as we try to form various figures with little tablets of wood
which we call "a Chinese puzzle. " Kay's fingers were very artistic; it
was the icy game of reason at which he played, and in his eyes the
figures were very remarkable, and of the highest importance; this
opinion was owing to the piece of glass still sticking in his eye.
He composed many complete figures, forming different words, but
there was one word he never could manage to form, although he wished
it very much. It was the word "Eternity. " The Snow Queen had said to
him, "When you can find out this, you shall be your own master, and
I will give you the whole world and a new pair of skates. " But he
could not accomplish it.

"Now I must hasten away to warmer countries," said the Snow Queen.
"I will go and look into the black craters of the tops of the
burning mountains, Etna and Vesuvius, as they are called,--I shall
make them look white, which will be good for them, and for the
lemons and the grapes. " And away flew the Snow Queen, leaving little
Kay quite alone in the great hall which was so many miles in length;
so he sat and looked at his pieces of ice, and was thinking so deeply,
and sat so still, that any one might have supposed he was frozen.

Just at this moment it happened that little Gerda came through the
great door of the castle. Cutting winds were raging around her, but
she offered up a prayer and the winds sank down as if they were
going to sleep; and she went on till she came to the large empty hall,
and caught sight of Kay; she knew him directly; she flew to him and
threw her arms round his neck, and held him fast, while she exclaimed,
"Kay, dear little Kay, I have found you at last. "

But he sat quite still, stiff and cold.

Then little Gerda wept hot tears, which fell on his breast, and
penetrated into his heart, and thawed the lump of ice, and washed away
the little piece of glass which had stuck there. Then he looked at
her, and she sang--

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


Then Kay burst into tears, and he wept so that the splinter of
glass swam out of his eye. Then he recognized Gerda, and said,
joyfully, "Gerda, dear little Gerda, where have you been all this
time, and where have I been? " And he looked all around him, and
said, "How cold it is, and how large and empty it all looks," and he
clung to Gerda, and she laughed and wept for joy. It was so pleasing
to see them that the pieces of ice even danced about; and when they
were tired and went to lie down, they formed themselves into the
letters of the word which the Snow Queen had said he must find out
before he could be his own master, and have the whole world and a pair
of new skates. Then Gerda kissed his cheeks, and they became blooming;
and she kissed his eyes, and they shone like her own; she kissed his
hands and his feet, and then he became quite healthy and cheerful. The
Snow Queen might come home now when she pleased, for there stood his
certainty of freedom, in the word she wanted, written in shining
letters of ice.

Then they took each other by the hand, and went forth from the
great palace of ice. They spoke of the grandmother, and of the roses
on the roof, and as they went on the winds were at rest, and the sun
burst forth. When they arrived at the bush with red berries, there
stood the reindeer waiting for them, and he had brought another
young reindeer with him, whose udders were full, and the children
drank her warm milk and kissed her on the mouth. Then they carried Kay
and Gerda first to the Finland woman, where they warmed themselves
thoroughly in the hot room, and she gave them directions about their
journey home. Next they went to the Lapland woman, who had made some
new clothes for them, and put their sleighs in order. Both the
reindeer ran by their side, and followed them as far as the boundaries
of the country, where the first green leaves were budding. And here
they took leave of the two reindeer and the Lapland woman, and all
said--Farewell. Then the birds began to twitter, and the forest too
was full of green young leaves; and out of it came a beautiful
horse, which Gerda remembered, for it was one which had drawn the
golden coach. A young girl was riding upon it, with a shining red
cap on her head, and pistols in her belt. It was the little
robber-maiden, who had got tired of staying at home; she was going
first to the north, and if that did not suit her, she meant to try
some other part of the world. She knew Gerda directly, and Gerda
remembered her: it was a joyful meeting.

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

But Gerda patted her cheeks, and asked after the prince and
princess.

"They are gone to foreign countries," said the robber-girl.

"And the crow? " asked Gerda.

"Oh, the crow is dead," she replied; "his tame sweetheart is now a
widow, and wears a bit of black worsted round her leg. She mourns very
pitifully, but it is all stuff. But now tell me how you managed to get
him back. "

Then Gerda and Kay told her all about it.

"Snip, snap, snare! it's all right at last," said the robber-girl.

Then she took both their hands, and promised that if ever she
should pass through the town, she would call and pay them a visit. And
then she rode away into the wide world. But Gerda and Kay went
hand-in-hand towards home; and as they advanced, spring appeared
more lovely with its green verdure and its beautiful flowers. Very
soon they recognized the large town where they lived, and the tall
steeples of the churches, in which the sweet bells were ringing a
merry peal as they entered it, and found their way to their
grandmother's door. They went upstairs into the little room, where all
looked just as it used to do. The old clock was going "tick, tick,"
and the hands pointed to the time of day, but as they passed through
the door into the room they perceived that they were both grown up,
and become a man and woman. The roses out on the roof were in full
bloom, and peeped in at the window; and there stood the little chairs,
on which they had sat when children; and Kay and Gerda seated
themselves each on their own chair, and held each other by the hand,
while the cold empty grandeur of the Snow Queen's palace vanished from
their memories like a painful dream. The grandmother sat in God's
bright sunshine, and she read aloud from the Bible, "Except ye
become as little children, ye shall in no wise enter into the
kingdom of God. " And Kay and Gerda looked into each other's eyes,
and all at once understood the words of the old song,

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

And they both sat there, grown up, yet children at heart; and it was
summer,--warm, beautiful summer.




THE SNOWDROP

It was winter-time; the air was cold, the wind was sharp, but
within the closed doors it was warm and comfortable, and within the
closed door lay the flower; it lay in the bulb under the
snow-covered earth.

One day rain fell. The drops penetrated through the snowy covering
down into the earth, and touched the flower-bulb, and talked of the
bright world above. Soon the Sunbeam pierced its way through the
snow to the root, and within the root there was a stirring.

"Come in," said the flower.

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

"When will it be summer? " asked the Flower, and she repeated
this question each time a new sunbeam made its way down to her. But
the summer was yet far distant. The snow still lay upon the ground,
and there was a coat of ice on the water every night.

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

And the Flower stirred and stretched itself within the thin rind
which the water had softened from without, and the snow and the
earth had warmed, and the Sunbeam had knocked at; and it shot forth
under the snow with a greenish-white blossom on a green stalk, with
narrow thick leaves, which seemed to want to protect it. The snow
was cold, but was pierced by the Sunbeam, therefore it was easy to get
through it, and now the Sunbeam came with greater strength than
before.

"Welcome, welcome! " sang and sounded every ray, and the Flower
lifted itself up over the snow into the brighter world. The Sunbeams
caressed and kissed it, so that it opened altogether, white as snow,
and ornamented with green stripes. It bent its head in joy and
humility.

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

That was a great pleasure. It seemed as if the air were singing
and sounding, as if rays of light were piercing through the leaves and
the stalks of the Flower. There it stood, so delicate and so easily
broken, and yet so strong in its young beauty; it stood there in its
white dress with the green stripes, and made a summer. But there was a
long time yet to the summer-time. Clouds hid the sun, and bleak
winds were blowing.

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

It was a cutting cold! The days which now come brought not a
single sunbeam. It was weather that might break such a little Flower
in two with cold. But the Flower had more strength than she herself
knew of. She was strong in joy and in faith in the summer, which would
be sure to come, which had been announced by her deep longing and
confirmed by the warm sunlight; and so she remained standing in
confidence in the snow in her white garment, bending her head even
while the snow-flakes fell thick and heavy, and the icy winds swept
over her.

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

"Summer gauk! " she repeated in the cold morning hour.

"O summer gauk! " cried some children rejoicingly; "yonder stands
one--how beautiful, how beautiful! The first one, the only one! "

These words did the Flower so much good, they seemed to her like
warm sunbeams. In her joy the Flower did not even feel when it was
broken off. It lay in a child's hand, and was kissed by a child's
mouth, and carried into a warm room, and looked on by gentle eyes, and
put into water. How strengthening, how invigorating! The Flower
thought she had suddenly come upon the summer.

The daughter of the house, a beautiful little girl, was confirmed,
and she had a friend who was confirmed, too. He was studying for an
examination for an appointment. "He shall be my summer gauk," she
said; and she took the delicate Flower and laid it in a piece of
scented paper, on which verses were written, beginning with summer
gauk and ending with summer gauk. "My friend, be a winter gauk. " She
had twitted him with the summer. Yes, all this was in the verses,
and the paper was folded up like a letter, and the Flower was folded
in the letter, too. It was dark around her, dark as in those days when
she lay hidden in the bulb. The Flower went forth on her journey,
and lay in the post-bag, and was pressed and crushed, which was not at
all pleasant; but that soon came to an end.

The journey was over; the letter was opened, and read by the
dear friend. How pleased he was! He kissed the letter, and it was
laid, with its enclosure of verses, in a box, in which there were many
beautiful verses, but all of them without flowers; she was the
first, the only one, as the Sunbeams had called her; and it was a
pleasant thing to think of that.

She had time enough, moreover, to think about it; she thought of
it while the summer passed away, and the long winter went by, and
the summer came again, before she appeared once more. But now the
young man was not pleased at all. He took hold of the letter very
roughly, and threw the verses away, so that the Flower fell on the
ground. Flat and faded she certainly was, but why should she be thrown
on the ground? Still, it was better to be here than in the fire, where
the verses and the paper were being burnt to ashes. What had happened?
What happens so often:--the Flower had made a gauk of him, that was
a jest; the girl had made a fool of him, that was no jest, she had,
during the summer, chosen another friend.

Next morning the sun shone in upon the little flattened
Snowdrop, that looked as if it had been painted upon the floor. The
servant girl, who was sweeping out the room, picked it up, and laid it
in one of the books which were upon the table, in the belief that it
must have fallen out while the room was being arranged. Again the
flower lay among verses--printed verses--and they are better than
written ones--at least, more money has been spent upon them.

And after this years went by. The book stood upon the
book-shelf, and then it was taken up and somebody read out of it. It
was a good book; verses and songs by the old Danish poet, Ambrosius
Stub, which are well worth reading. The man who was now reading the
book turned over a page.

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

And so the Snowdrop was put back into the book, and felt equally
honored and pleased to know that it was a token in the glorious book
of songs, and that he who was the first to sing and to write had
been also a snowdrop, had been a summer gauk, and had been looked upon
in the winter-time as a fool.
The Flower understood this, in her
way, as we interpret everything in our way.

That is the story of the Snowdrop.




SOMETHING

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

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

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

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

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

People said of this fifth brother, "There is something very
precise about him; he has a good head-piece, but he does nothing. " And
on that very account they thought he must be something.

Now, you see, this is a little history which will never end; as
long as the world exists, there will always be men like these five
brothers. And what became of them? Were they each nothing or
something? You shall hear; it is quite a history.

The eldest brother, he who fabricated bricks, soon discovered that
each brick, when finished, brought him in a small coin, if only a
copper one; and many copper pieces, if placed one upon another, can be
changed into a shining shilling; and at whatever door a person knocks,
who has a number of these in his hands, whether it be the baker's, the
butcher's, or the tailor's, the door flies open, and he can get all he
wants. So you see the value of bricks. Some of the bricks, however,
crumbled to pieces, or were broken, but the elder brother found a
use for even these.

On the high bank of earth, which formed a dyke on the sea-coast, a
poor woman named Margaret wished to build herself a house, so all
the imperfect bricks were given to her, and a few whole ones with
them; for the eldest brother was a kind-hearted man, although he never
achieved anything higher than making bricks. The poor woman built
herself a little house--it was small and narrow, and the window was
quite crooked, the door too low, and the straw roof might have been
better thatched. But still it was a shelter, and from within you could
look far over the sea, which dashed wildly against the sea-wall on
which the little house was built. The salt waves sprinkled their white
foam over it, but it stood firm, and remained long after he who had
given the bricks to build it was dead and buried.

The second brother of course knew better how to build than poor
Margaret, for he served an apprenticeship to learn it. When his time
was up, he packed up his knapsack, and went on his travels, singing
the journeyman's song,--

"While young, I can wander without a care,
And build new houses everywhere;
Fair and bright are my dreams of home,
Always thought of wherever I roam.

Hurrah for a workman's life of glee!
There's a loved one at home who thinks of me;
Home and friends I can ne'er forget,
And I mean to be a master yet. "

And that is what he did. On his return home, he became a master
builder,--built one house after another in the town, till they
formed quite a street, which, when finished, became really an ornament
to the town. These houses built a house for him in return, which was
to be his own. But how can houses build a house? If the houses were
asked, they could not answer; but the people would understand, and
say, "Certainly the street built his house for him. " It was not very
large, and the floor was of lime; but when he danced with his bride on
the lime-covered floor, it was to him white and shining, and from
every stone in the wall flowers seemed to spring forth and decorate
the room as with the richest tapestry. It was really a pretty house,
and in it were a happy pair. The flag of the corporation fluttered
before it, and the journeymen and apprentices shouted "Hurrah. " He had
gained his position, he had made himself something, and at last he
died, which was "something" too.

Now we come to the architect, the third brother, who had been
first a carpenter's apprentice, had worn a cap, and served as an
errand boy, but afterwards went to the academy, and risen to be an
architect, a high and noble gentleman. Ah yes, the houses of the new
street, which the brother who was a master builder erected, may have
built his house for him, but the street received its name from the
architect, and the handsomest house in the street became his property.
That was something, and he was "something," for he had a list of
titles before and after his name. His children were called "wellborn,"
and when he died, his widow was treated as a lady of position, and
that was "something. " His name remained always written at the corner
of the street, and lived in every one's mouth as its name. Yes, this
also was "something. "

And what about the genius of the family--the fourth brother--who
wanted to invent something new and original? He tried to build a lofty
storey himself, but it fell to pieces, and he fell with it and broke
his neck. However, he had a splendid funeral, with the city flags
and music in the procession; flowers were strewn on the pavement,
and three orations were spoken over his grave, each one longer than
the other. He would have liked this very much during his life, as well
as the poems about him in the papers, for he liked nothing so well
as to be talked of. A monument was also erected over his grave. It was
only another storey over him, but that was "something," Now he was
dead, like the three other brothers.

The youngest--the critic--outlived them all, which was quite right
for him. It gave him the opportunity of having the last word, which to
him was of great importance. People always said he had a good
head-piece. At last his hour came, and he died, and arrived at the
gates of heaven. Souls always enter these gates in pairs; so he
found himself standing and waiting for admission with another; and who
should it be but old dame Margaret, from the house on the dyke! "It is
evidently for the sake of contrast that I and this wretched soul
should arrive here exactly at the same time," said the critic. "Pray
who are you, my good woman? " said he; "do you want to get in here
too? "

And the old woman curtsied as well as she could; she thought it
must be St. Peter himself who spoke to her. "I am a poor old woman,"
she said, "without my family. I am old Margaret, that lived in the
house on the dyke. "

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

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

"In what manner did you leave the world? " he asked, just for the
sake of saying something; for it made him feel very weary to stand
there and wait.

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

Then the gates were opened, and an angel led the old woman in. She
had dropped one little straw out of her straw bed, when she set it
on fire to save the lives of so many. It had been changed into the
purest gold--into gold that constantly grew and expanded into
flowers and fruit of immortal beauty.

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

Then the poor soul, the old mother who had lived in the house on
the dyke, pleaded for him. She said, "His brother made all the stone
and bricks, and sent them to me to build my poor little dwelling,
which was a great deal to do for a poor woman like me. Could not all
these bricks and pieces be as a wall of stone to prevail for him? It
is an act of mercy; he is wanting it now; and here is the very
fountain of mercy. "

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

"I could have expressed that better," thought the critic; but he
did not say it aloud, which for him was SOMETHING, after all.




SOUP FROM A SAUSAGE SKEWER

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

"That was not at all a bad proposal," said the other mouse; "but
how is the soup made? "

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

Most probably some such thoughts as these discouraged the
majority from going out into the world to collect the required
information. Only four mice gave notice that they were ready to set
out on the journey. They were young and lively, but poor. Each of them
wished to visit one of the four divisions of the world, so that it
might be seen which was the most favored by fortune. Every one took
a sausage skewer as a traveller's staff, and to remind them of the
object of their journey. They left home early in May, and none of them
returned till the first of May in the following year, and then only
three of them. Nothing was seen or heard of the fourth, although the
day of decision was close at hand. "Ah, yes, there is always some
trouble mixed up with the greatest pleasure," said the mouse-king; but
he gave orders that all the mice within a circle of many miles
should be invited at once. They were to assemble in the kitchen, and
the three travelled mice were to stand in a row before them, while a
sausage skewer, covered with crape, was to be stuck up instead of
the missing mouse. No one dared to express an opinion until the king
spoke, and desired one of them to go on with her story. And now we
shall hear what she said.


WHAT THE FIRST LITTLE MOUSE SAW AND HEARD ON HER TRAVELS

"When I first went out into the world," said the little mouse,
"I fancied, as so many of my age do, that I already knew everything,
but it was not so. It takes years to acquire great knowledge. I went
at once to sea in a ship bound for the north. I had been told that the
ship's cook must know how to prepare every dish at sea, and it is easy
enough to do that with plenty of sides of bacon, and large tubs of
salt meat and mouldy flour. There I found plenty of delicate food, but
no opportunity for learning how to make soup from a sausage skewer. We
sailed on for many days and nights; the ship rocked fearfully, and
we did not escape without a wetting. As soon as we arrived at the port
to which the ship was bound, I left it, and went on shore at a place
far towards the north. It is a wonderful thing to leave your own
little corner at home, to hide yourself in a ship where there are sure
to be some nice snug corners for shelter, then suddenly to find
yourself thousands of miles away in a foreign land. I saw large
pathless forests of pine and birch trees, which smelt so strong that I
sneezed and thought of sausage. There were great lakes also which
looked as black as ink at a distance, but were quite clear when I came
close to them. Large swans were floating upon them, and I thought at
first they were only foam, they lay so still; but when I saw them walk
and fly, I knew what they were directly. They belong to the goose
species, one can see that by their walk. No one can attempt to
disguise family descent. I kept with my own kind, and associated
with the forest and field mice, who, however, knew very little,
especially about what I wanted to know, and which had actually made me
travel abroad. The idea that soup could be made from a sausage
skewer was to them such an out-of-the-way, unlikely thought, that it
was repeated from one to another through the whole forest. They
declared that the problem would never be solved, that the thing was an
impossibility. How little I thought that in this place, on the very
first night, I should be initiated into the manner of its preparation.

"It was the height of summer, which the mice told me was the
reason that the forest smelt so strong, and that the herbs were so
fragrant, and the lakes with the white swimming swans so dark, and yet
so clear. On the margin of the wood, near to three or four houses, a
pole, as large as the mainmast of a ship, had been erected, and from
the summit hung wreaths of flowers and fluttering ribbons; it was
the Maypole. Lads and lasses danced round the pole, and tried to outdo
the violins of the musicians with their singing. They were as merry as
ever at sunset and in the moonlight, but I took no part in the
merry-making. What has a little mouse to do with a Maypole dance? I
sat in the soft moss, and held my sausage skewer tight. The moon threw
its beams particularly on one spot where stood a tree covered with
exceedingly fine moss. I may almost venture to say that it was as fine
and soft as the fur of the mouse-king, but it was green, which is a
color very agreeable to the eye. All at once I saw the most charming
little people marching towards me. They did not reach higher than my
knee; they looked like human beings, but were better proportioned, and
they called themselves elves. Their clothes were very delicate and
fine, for they were made of the leaves of flowers, trimmed with the
wings of flies and gnats, which had not a bad effect. By their manner,
it appeared as if they were seeking for something. I knew not what,
till at last one of them espied me and came towards me, and the
foremost pointed to my sausage skewer, and said, 'There, that is
just what we want; see, it is pointed at the top; is it not
capital? ' and the longer he looked at my pilgrim's staff, the more
delighted he became. 'I will lend it to you,' said I, 'but not to
keep. '

"'Oh no, we won't keep it! ' they all cried; and then they seized
the skewer, which I gave up to them, and danced with it to the spot
where the delicate moss grew, and set it up in the middle of the
green. They wanted a maypole, and the one they now had seemed cut
out on purpose for them. Then they decorated it so beautifully that it
was quite dazzling to look at. Little spiders spun golden threads
around it, and then it was hung with fluttering veils and flags so
delicately white that they glittered like snow in the moonshine.