No More Learning

" Then
he tried to pull his head back again, but without success; he could
move his neck about easily enough, and that was all. His first feeling
was one of anger, and then his spirits sank below zero. The goloshes
of Fortune had placed him in this terrible position, and unfortunately
it never occurred to him to wish himself free. No, instead of
wishing he kept twisting about, yet did not stir from the spot. The
rain poured, and not a creature could be seen in the street. The
porter's bell he was unable to reach, and however was he to get loose!
He foresaw that he should have to stay there till morning, and then
they must send for a smith to file away the iron bars, and that
would be a work of time. All the charity children would just be
going to school: and all the sailors who inhabited that quarter of the
town would be there to see him standing in the pillory. What a crowd
there would be. "Ha," he cried, "the blood is rushing to my head,
and I shall go mad. I believe I am crazy already; oh, I wish I were
free, then all these sensations would pass off. " This is just what
he ought to have said at first. The moment he had expressed the
thought his head was free. He started back, quite bewildered with
the fright which the goloshes of Fortune had caused him. But we must
not suppose it was all over; no, indeed, there was worse to come
yet. The night passed, and the whole of the following day; but no
one sent for the goloshes. In the evening a declamatory performance
was to take place at the amateur theatre in a distant street. The
house was crowded; among the audience was the young volunteer from the
hospital, who seemed to have quite forgotten his adventures of the
previous evening. He had on the goloshes; they had not been sent
for, and as the streets were still very dirty, they were of great
service to him. A new poem, entitled "My Aunt's Spectacles," was being
recited. It described these spectacles as possessing a wonderful
power; if any one put them on in a large assembly the people
appeared like cards, and the future events of ensuing years could be
easily foretold by them. The idea struck him that he should very
much like to have such a pair of spectacles; for, if used rightly,
they would perhaps enable him to see into the hearts of people,
which he thought would be more interesting than to know what was going
to happen next year; for future events would be sure to show
themselves, but the hearts of people never. "I can fancy what I should
see in the whole row of ladies and gentlemen on the first seat, if I
could only look into their hearts; that lady, I imagine, keeps a store
for things of all descriptions; how my eyes would wander about in that
collection; with many ladies I should no doubt find a large
millinery establishment. There is another that is perhaps empty, and
would be all the better for cleaning out. There may be some well
stored with good articles. Ah, yes," he sighed, "I know one, in
which everything is solid, but a servant is there already, and that is
the only thing against it. I dare say from many I should hear the
words, 'Please to walk in. ' I only wish I could slip into the hearts
like a little tiny thought. " This was the word of command for the
goloshes. The volunteer shrunk up together, and commenced a most
unusual journey through the hearts of the spectators in the first row.
The first heart he entered was that of a lady, but he thought he
must have got into one of the rooms of an orthopedic institution where
plaster casts of deformed limbs were hanging on the walls, with this
difference, that the casts in the institution are formed when the
patient enters, but here they were formed and preserved after the good
people had left. These were casts of the bodily and mental deformities
of the lady's female friends carefully preserved. Quickly he passed
into another heart, which had the appearance of a spacious, holy
church, with the white dove of innocence fluttering over the altar.
Gladly would he have fallen on his knees in such a sacred place; but
he was carried on to another heart, still, however, listening to the
tones of the organ, and feeling himself that he had become another and
a better man. The next heart was also a sanctuary, which he felt
almost unworthy to enter; it represented a mean garret, in which lay a
sick mother; but the warm sunshine streamed through the window, lovely
roses bloomed in a little flowerbox on the roof, two blue birds sang
of childlike joys, and the sick mother prayed for a blessing on her
daughter. Next he crept on his hands and knees through an overfilled
butcher's shop; there was meat, nothing but meat, wherever he stepped;
this was the heart of a rich, respectable man, whose name is doubtless
in the directory. Then he entered the heart of this man's wife; it was
an old, tumble-down pigeon-house; the husband's portrait served as a
weather-cock; it was connected with all the doors, which opened and
shut just as the husband's decision turned. The next heart was a
complete cabinet of mirrors, such as can be seen in the Castle of
Rosenberg. But these mirrors magnified in an astonishing degree; in
the middle of the floor sat, like the Grand Lama, the insignificant
I of the owner, astonished at the contemplation of his own features.
At his next visit he fancied he must have got into a narrow
needlecase, full of sharp needles: "Oh," thought he, "this must be the
heart of an old maid;" but such was not the fact; it belonged to a
young officer, who wore several orders, and was said to be a man of
intellect and heart.

The poor volunteer came out of the last heart in the row quite
bewildered. He could not collect his thoughts, and imagined his
foolish fancies had carried him away. "Good gracious! " he sighed, "I
must have a tendency to softening of the brain, and here it is so
exceedingly hot that the blood is rushing to my head. " And then
suddenly recurred to him the strange event of the evening before, when
his head had been fixed between the iron railings in front of the
hospital. "That is the cause of it all! " he exclaimed, "I must do
something in time. A Russian bath would be a very good thing to
begin with. I wish I were lying on one of the highest shelves. " Sure
enough, there he lay on an upper shelf of a vapor bath, still in his
evening costume, with his boots and goloshes on, and the hot drops
from the ceiling falling on his face. "Ho! " he cried, jumping down and
rushing towards the plunging bath. The attendant stopped him with a
loud cry, when he saw a man with all his clothes on. The volunteer
had, however, presence of mind enough to whisper, "It is for a wager;"
but the first thing he did, when he reached his own room, was to put a
large blister on his neck, and another on his back, that his crazy fit
might be cured. The next morning his back was very sore, which was all
he gained by the goloshes of Fortune.


THE CLERK'S TRANSFORMATION

The watchman, whom we of course have not forgotten, thought, after
a while, of the goloshes which he had found and taken to the hospital;
so he went and fetched them. But neither the lieutenant nor any one in
the street could recognize them as their own, so he gave them up to
the police. "They look exactly like my own goloshes," said one of
the clerks, examining the unknown articles, as they stood by the
side of his own. "It would require even more than the eye of a
shoemaker to know one pair from the other. "

"Master clerk," said a servant who entered with some papers. The
clerk turned and spoke to the man; but when he had done with him, he
turned to look at the goloshes again, and now he was in greater
doubt than ever as to whether the pair on the right or on the left
belonged to him. "Those that are wet must be mine," thought he; but he
thought wrong, it was just the reverse. The goloshes of Fortune were
the wet pair; and, besides, why should not a clerk in a police
office be wrong sometimes? So he drew them on, thrust his papers
into his pocket, placed a few manuscripts under his arm, which he
had to take with him, and to make abstracts from at home. Then, as
it was Sunday morning and the weather very fine, he said to himself,
"A walk to Fredericksburg will do me good:" so away he went.

There could not be a quieter or more steady young man than this
clerk. We will not grudge him this little walk, it was just the
thing to do him good after sitting so much. He went on at first like a
mere automaton, without thought or wish; therefore the goloshes had no
opportunity to display their magic power. In the avenue he met with an
acquaintance, one of our young poets, who told him that he intended to
start on the following day on a summer excursion. "Are you really
going away so soon? " asked the clerk. "What a free, happy man you are.
You can roam about where you will, while such as we are tied by the
foot. "

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

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

We perceive, by these remarks, that he had already become a
poet. By most poets what he had said would be considered common-place,
or as the Germans call it, "insipid. " It is a foolish fancy to look
upon poets as different to other men. There are many who are more
the poets of nature than those who are professed poets. The difference
is this, the poet's intellectual memory is better; he seizes upon an
idea or a sentiment, until he can embody it, clearly and plainly in
words, which the others cannot do. But the transition from a character
of every-day life to one of a more gifted nature is a great
transition; and so the clerk became aware of the change after a
time. "What a delightful perfume," said he; "it reminds me of the
violets at Aunt Lora's. Ah, that was when I was a little boy. Dear me,
how long it seems since I thought of those days! She was a good old
maiden lady! she lived yonder, behind the Exchange. She always had a
sprig or a few blossoms in water, let the winter be ever so severe.
I could smell the violets, even while I was placing warm penny
pieces against the frozen panes to make peep-holes, and a pretty
view it was on which I peeped. Out in the river lay the ships,
icebound, and forsaken by their crews; a screaming crow represented
the only living creature on board. But when the breezes of spring
came, everything started into life. Amidst shouting and cheers the
ships were tarred and rigged, and then they sailed to foreign lands.

"I remain here, and always shall remain, sitting at my post at the
police office, and letting others take passports to distant lands.
Yes, this is my fate," and he sighed deeply. Suddenly he paused. "Good
gracious, what has come over me? I never felt before as I do now; it
must be the air of spring. It is overpowering, and yet it is
delightful. "

He felt in his pockets for some of his papers. "These will give me
something else to think of," said he. Casting his eyes on the first
page of one, he read, "'Mistress Sigbirth; an original Tragedy, in
Five Acts. ' What is this? --in my own handwriting, too! Have I
written this tragedy? " He read again, "'The Intrigue on the Promenade;
or, the Fast-Day. A Vaudeville. ' However did I get all this? Some
one must have put them into my pocket. And here is a letter! " It was
from the manager of a theatre; the pieces were rejected, not at all in
polite terms.

"Hem, hem! " said he, sitting down on a bench; his thoughts were
very elastic, and his heart softened strangely. Involuntarily he
seized one of the nearest flowers; it was a little, simple daisy.
All that botanists can say in many lectures was explained in a
moment by this little flower. It spoke of the glory of its birth; it
told of the strength of the sunlight, which had caused its delicate
leaves to expand, and given to it such sweet perfume. The struggles of
life which arouse sensations in the bosom have their type in the
tiny flowers. Air and light are the lovers of the flowers, but light
is the favored one; towards light it turns, and only when light
vanishes does it fold its leaves together, and sleep in the embraces
of the air. "

"It is light that adorns me," said the flower.

"But the air gives you the breath of life," whispered the poet.

Just by him stood a boy, splashing with his stick in a marshy
ditch. The water-drops spurted up among the green twigs, and the clerk
thought of the millions of animalculae which were thrown into the
air with every drop of water, at a height which must be the same to
them as it would be to us if we were hurled beyond the clouds. As
the clerk thought of all these things, and became conscious of the
great change in his own feelings, he smiled, and said to himself, "I
must be asleep and dreaming; and yet, if so, how wonderful for a dream
to be so natural and real, and to know at the same time too that it is
but a dream. I hope I shall be able to remember it all when I wake
tomorrow. My sensations seem most unaccountable. I have a clear
perception of everything as if I were wide awake. I am quite sure if I
recollect all this tomorrow, it will appear utterly ridiculous and
absurd. I have had this happen to me before. It is with the clever
or wonderful things we say or hear in dreams, as with the gold which
comes from under the earth, it is rich and beautiful when we possess
it, but when seen in a true light it is but as stones and withered
leaves. "

"Ah! " he sighed mournfully, as he gazed at the birds singing
merrily, or hopping from branch to branch, "they are much better off
than I. Flying is a glorious power. Happy is he who is born with
wings. Yes, if I could change myself into anything I would be a little
lark. " At the same moment his coat-tails and sleeves grew together and
formed wings, his clothes changed to feathers, and his goloshes to
claws. He felt what was taking place, and laughed to himself. "Well,
now it is evident I must be dreaming; but I never had such a wild
dream as this. " And then he flew up into the green boughs and sang,
but there was no poetry in the song, for his poetic nature had left
him. The goloshes, like all persons who wish to do a thing thoroughly,
could only attend to one thing at a time. He wished to be a poet,
and he became one. Then he wanted to be a little bird, and in this
change he lost the characteristics of the former one. "Well,"
thought he, "this is charming; by day I sit in a police-office,
amongst the dryest law papers, and at night I can dream that I am a
lark, flying about in the gardens of Fredericksburg. Really a complete
comedy could be written about it. " Then he flew down into the grass,
turned his head about in every direction, and tapped his beak on the
bending blades of grass, which, in proportion to his size, seemed to
him as long as the palm-leaves in northern Africa.

In another moment all was darkness around him. It seemed as if
something immense had been thrown over him. A sailor boy had flung his
large cap over the bird, and a hand came underneath and caught the
clerk by the back and wings so roughly, that he squeaked, and then
cried out in his alarm, "You impudent rascal, I am a clerk in the
police-office! " but it only sounded to the boy like "tweet, tweet;" so
he tapped the bird on the beak, and walked away with him. In the
avenue he met two school-boys, who appeared to belong to a better
class of society, but whose inferior abilities kept them in the lowest
class at school. These boys bought the bird for eightpence, and so the
clerk returned to Copenhagen. "It is well for me that I am
dreaming," he thought; "otherwise I should become really angry.
First I was a poet, and now I am a lark. It must have been the
poetic nature that changed me into this little creature. It is a
miserable story indeed, especially now I have fallen into the hands of
boys. I wonder what will be the end of it. " The boys carried him
into a very elegant room, where a stout, pleasant-looking lady
received them, but she was not at all gratified to find that they
had brought a lark--a common field-bird as she called it. However, she
allowed them for one day to place the bird in an empty cage that
hung near the window. "It will please Polly perhaps," she said,
laughing at a large gray parrot, who was swinging himself proudly on a
ring in a handsome brass cage. "It is Polly's birthday," she added
in a simpering tone, "and the little field-bird has come to offer
his congratulations. "

Polly did not answer a single word, he continued to swing
proudly to and fro; but a beautiful canary, who had been brought
from his own warm, fragrant fatherland, the summer previous, began
to sing as loud as he could.

"You screamer! " said the lady, throwing a white handkerchief
over the cage.

"Tweet, tweet," sighed he, "what a dreadful snowstorm! " and then
he became silent.

The clerk, or as the lady called him the field-bird, was placed in
a little cage close to the canary, and not far from the parrot. The
only human speech which Polly could utter, and which she sometimes
chattered forth most comically, was "Now let us be men. " All besides
was a scream, quite as unintelligible as the warbling of the
canary-bird, excepting to the clerk, who being now a bird, could
understand his comrades very well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instinctively, the clerk obeyed, and left the cage; at the same
moment the half-opened door leading into the next room creaked on
its hinges, and, stealthily, with green fiery eyes, the cat crept in
and chased the lark round the room. The canary-bird fluttered in his
cage, and the parrot flapped his wings and cried, "Let us be men;" the
poor clerk, in the most deadly terror, flew through the window, over
the houses, and through the streets, till at length he was obliged
to seek a resting-place. A house opposite to him had a look of home. A
window stood open; he flew in, and perched upon the table. It was
his own room. "Let us be men now," said he, involuntarily imitating
the parrot; and at the same moment he became a clerk again, only
that he was sitting on the table. "Heaven preserve us! " said he;
"How did I get up here and fall asleep in this way? It was an uneasy
dream too that I had. The whole affair appears most absurd. "


THE BEST THING THE GOLOSHES DID

Early on the following morning, while the clerk was still in
bed, his neighbor, a young divinity student, who lodged on the same
storey, knocked at his door, and then walked in. "Lend me your
goloshes," said he; "it is so wet in the garden, but the sun is
shining brightly. I should like to go out there and smoke my pipe. " He
put on the goloshes, and was soon in the garden, which contained
only one plum-tree and one apple-tree; yet, in a town, even a small
garden like this is a great advantage.

The student wandered up and down the path; it was just six
o'clock, and he could hear the sound of the post-horn in the street.
"Oh, to travel, to travel! " cried he; "there is no greater happiness
in the world: it is the height of my ambition. This restless feeling
would be stilled, if I could take a journey far away from this
country. I should like to see beautiful Switzerland, to travel through
Italy, and,"--It was well for him that the goloshes acted immediately,
otherwise he might have been carried too far for himself as well as
for us. In a moment he found himself in Switzerland, closely packed
with eight others in the diligence. His head ached, his back was
stiff, and the blood had ceased to circulate, so that his feet were
swelled and pinched by his boots. He wavered in a condition between
sleeping and waking. In his right-hand pocket he had a letter of
credit; in his left-hand pocket was his passport; and a few louis
d'ors were sewn into a little leather bag which he carried in his
breast-pocket. Whenever he dozed, he dreamed that he had lost one or
another of these possessions; then he would awake with a start, and
the first movements of his hand formed a triangle from his
right-hand pocket to his breast, and from his breast to his
left-hand pocket, to feel whether they were all safe. Umbrellas,
sticks, and hats swung in the net before him, and almost obstructed
the prospect, which was really very imposing; and as he glanced at it,
his memory recalled the words of one poet at least, who has sung of
Switzerland, and whose poems have not yet been printed:--

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

Grand, dark, and gloomy appeared the landscape around him. The
pine-forests looked like little groups of moss on high rocks, whose
summits were lost in clouds of mist. Presently it began to snow, and
the wind blew keen and cold. "Ah," he sighed, "if I were only on the
other side of the Alps now, it would be summer, and I should be able
to get money on my letter of credit. The anxiety I feel on this matter
prevents me from enjoying myself in Switzerland. Oh, I wish I was on
the other side of the Alps. "

And there, in a moment, he found himself, far away in the midst of
Italy, between Florence and Rome, where the lake Thrasymene
glittered in the evening sunlight like a sheet of molten gold
between the dark blue mountains. There, where Hannibal defeated
Flaminius, the grape vines clung to each other with the friendly grasp
of their green tendril fingers; while, by the wayside, lovely
half-naked children were watching a herd of coal-black swine under the
blossoms of fragrant laurel. Could we rightly describe this
picturesque scene, our readers would exclaim, "Delightful Italy! "

But neither the student nor either of his travelling companions
felt the least inclination to think of it in this way. Poisonous flies
and gnats flew into the coach by thousands. In vain they drove them
away with a myrtle branch, the flies stung them notwithstanding. There
was not a man in the coach whose face was not swollen and disfigured
with the stings. The poor horses looked wretched; the flies settled on
their backs in swarms, and they were only relieved when the coachmen
got down and drove the creatures off.

As the sun set, an icy coldness filled all nature, not however
of long duration. It produced the feeling which we experience when
we enter a vault at a funeral, on a summer's day; while the hills
and the clouds put on that singular green hue which we often notice in
old paintings, and look upon as unnatural until we have ourselves seen
nature's coloring in the south. It was a glorious spectacle; but the
stomachs of the travellers were empty, their bodies exhausted with
fatigue, and all the longings of their heart turned towards a
resting-place for the night; but where to find one they knew not.
All the eyes were too eagerly seeking for this resting-place, to
notice the beauties of nature.

The road passed through a grove of olive-trees; it reminded the
student of the willow-trees at home. Here stood a lonely inn, and
close by it a number of crippled beggars had placed themselves; the
brightest among them looked, to quote the words of Marryat, "like
the eldest son of Famine who had just come of age. " The others were
either blind, or had withered legs, which obliged them to creep
about on their hands and knees, or they had shrivelled arms and
hands without fingers. It was indeed poverty arrayed in rags.
"Eccellenza, miserabili! " they exclaimed, stretching forth their
diseased limbs. The hostess received the travellers with bare feet,
untidy hair, and a dirty blouse. The doors were fastened together with
string; the floors of the rooms were of brick, broken in many
places; bats flew about under the roof; and as to the odor within--

"Let us have supper laid in the stable," said one of the
travellers; "then we shall know what we are breathing. "

The windows were opened to let in a little fresh air, but
quicker than air came in the withered arms and the continual whining
sounds, "Miserabili, eccellenza. " On the walls were inscriptions,
half of them against "la bella Italia. "

The supper made its appearance at last. It consisted of watery
soup, seasoned with pepper and rancid oil. This last delicacy played a
principal part in the salad. Musty eggs and roasted cocks'-combs
were the best dishes on the table; even the wine had a strange
taste, it was certainly a mixture. At night, all the boxes were placed
against the doors, and one of the travellers watched while the
others slept. The student's turn came to watch. How close the air felt
in that room; the heat overpowered him. The gnats were buzzing about
and stinging, while the miserabili, outside, moaned in their dreams.

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

No sooner were the words spoken than he was at home. Long white
curtains shaded the windows of his room, and in the middle of the
floor stood a black coffin, in which he now lay in the still sleep
of death; his wish was fulfilled, his body was at rest, and his spirit
travelling.

"Esteem no man happy until he is in his grave," were the words
of Solon. Here was a strong fresh proof of their truth. Every corpse
is a sphinx of immortality. The sphinx in this sarcophagus might
unveil its own mystery in the words which the living had himself
written two days before--

"Stern death, thy chilling silence waketh dread;
Yet in thy darkest hour there may be light.
Earth's garden reaper! from the grave's cold bed
The soul on Jacob's ladder takes her flight.

Man's greatest sorrows often are a part
Of hidden griefs, concealed from human eyes,
Which press far heavier on the lonely heart
Than now the earth that on his coffin lies. "


Two figures were moving about the room; we know them both. One was
the fairy named Care, the other the messenger of Fortune. They bent
over the dead.

"Look! " said Care; "what happiness have your goloshes brought to
mankind? "

"They have at least brought lasting happiness to him who
slumbers here," she said.

"Not so," said Care, "he went away of himself, he was not
summoned. His mental powers were not strong enough to discern the
treasures which he had been destined to discover. I will do him a
favor now. " And she drew the goloshes from his feet.

The sleep of death was ended, and the recovered man raised
himself. Care vanished, and with her the goloshes; doubtless she
looked upon them as her own property.




SHE WAS GOOD FOR NOTHING

The mayor stood at the open window. He looked smart, for his
shirt-frill, in which he had stuck a breast-pin, and his ruffles, were
very fine. He had shaved his chin uncommonly smooth, although he had
cut himself slightly, and had stuck a piece of newspaper over the
place. "Hark 'ee, youngster! " cried he.

The boy to whom he spoke was no other than the son of a poor
washer-woman, who was just going past the house. He stopped, and
respectfully took off his cap. The peak of this cap was broken in
the middle, so that he could easily roll it up and put it in his
pocket. He stood before the mayor in his poor but clean and
well-mended clothes, with heavy wooden shoes on his feet, looking as
humble as if it had been the king himself.

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

"Only half a quartern," stammered the boy in a frightened voice.

"And she has had just as much this morning already? "

"No, it was yesterday," replied the boy.

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

The boy went on his way with his cap in his hand, while the wind
fluttered his golden hair till the locks stood up straight. He
turned round the corner of the street into the little lane that led to
the river, where his mother stood in the water by her washing bench,
beating the linen with a heavy wooden bar. The floodgates at the
mill had been drawn up, and as the water rolled rapidly on, the sheets
were dragged along by the stream, and nearly overturned the bench,
so that the washer-woman was obliged to lean against it to keep it
steady. "I have been very nearly carried away," she said; "it is a
good thing that you are come, for I want something to strengthen me.
It is cold in the water, and I have stood here six hours. Have you
brought anything for me? "

The boy drew the bottle from his pocket, and the mother put it
to her lips, and drank a little.

"Ah, how much good that does, and how it warms me," she said;
"it is as good as a hot meal, and not so dear. Drink a little, my boy;
you look quite pale; you are shivering in your thin clothes, and
autumn has really come. Oh, how cold the water is! I hope I shall
not be ill. But no, I must not be afraid of that. Give me a little
more, and you may have a sip too, but only a sip; you must not get
used to it, my poor, dear child. " She stepped up to the bridge on
which the boy stood as she spoke, and came on shore. The water dripped
from the straw mat which she had bound round her body, and from her
gown. "I work hard and suffer pain with my poor hands," said she, "but
I do it willingly, that I may be able to bring you up honestly and
truthfully, my dear boy. "

At the same moment, a woman, rather older than herself, came
towards them. She was a miserable-looking object, lame of one leg, and
with a large false curl hanging down over one of her eyes, which was
blind. This curl was intended to conceal the blind eye, but it made
the defect only more visible. She was a friend of the laundress, and
was called, among the neighbors, "Lame Martha, with the curl. " "Oh,
you poor thing; how you do work, standing there in the water! " she
exclaimed. "You really do need something to give you a little
warmth, and yet spiteful people cry out about the few drops you take. "
And then Martha repeated to the laundress, in a very few minutes,
all that the mayor had said to her boy, which she had overheard; and
she felt very angry that any man could speak, as he had done, of a
mother to her own child, about the few drops she had taken; and she
was still more angry because, on that very day, the mayor was going to
have a dinner-party, at which there would be wine, strong, rich
wine, drunk by the bottle. "Many will take more than they ought, but
they don't call that drinking! They are all right, you are good for
nothing indeed! " cried Martha indignantly.

"And so he spoke to you in that way, did he, my child? " said the
washer-woman, and her lips trembled as she spoke. "He says you have
a mother who is good for nothing. Well, perhaps he is right, but he
should not have said it to my child. How much has happened to me
from that house! "

"Yes," said Martha; "I remember you were in service there, and
lived in the house when the mayor's parents were alive; how many years
ago that is. Bushels of salt have been eaten since then, and people
may well be thirsty," and Martha smiled. "The mayor's great
dinner-party to-day ought to have been put off, but the news came
too late. The footman told me the dinner was already cooked, when a
letter came to say that the mayor's younger brother in Copenhagen is
dead. "

"Dead! " cried the laundress, turning pale as death.

"Yes, certainly," replied Martha; "but why do you take it so
much to heart? I suppose you knew him years ago, when you were in
service there? "

"Is he dead? " she exclaimed. "Oh, he was such a kind, good-hearted
man, there are not many like him," and the tears rolled down her
cheeks as she spoke. Then she cried, "Oh, dear me; I feel quite ill:
everything is going round me, I cannot bear it. Is the bottle
empty? " and she leaned against the plank.

"Dear me, you are ill indeed," said the other woman. "Come,
cheer up; perhaps it will pass off. No, indeed, I see you are really
ill; the best thing for me to do is to lead you home. "

"But my washing yonder? "

"I will take care of that. Come, give me your arm. The boy can
stay here and take care of the linen, and I'll come back and finish
the washing; it is but a trifle. "

The limbs of the laundress shook under her, and she said, "I
have stood too long in the cold water, and I have had nothing to eat
the whole day since the morning. O kind Heaven, help me to get home; I
am in a burning fever. Oh, my poor child," and she burst into tears.
And he, poor boy, wept also, as he sat alone by the river, near to and
watching the damp linen.

The two women walked very slowly. The laundress slipped and
tottered through the lane, and round the corner, into the street where
the mayor lived; and just as she reached the front of his house, she
sank down upon the pavement. Many persons came round her, and Lame
Martha ran into the house for help. The mayor and his guests came to
the window.

"Oh, it is the laundress," said he; "she has had a little drop too
much. She is good for nothing. It is a sad thing for her pretty little
son. I like the boy very well; but the mother is good for nothing. "

After a while the laundress recovered herself, and they led her to
her poor dwelling, and put her to bed. Kind Martha warmed a mug of
beer for her, with butter and sugar--she considered this the best
medicine--and then hastened to the river, washed and rinsed, badly
enough, to be sure, but she did her best. Then she drew the linen
ashore, wet as it was, and laid it in a basket. Before evening, she
was sitting in the poor little room with the laundress. The mayor's
cook had given her some roasted potatoes and a beautiful piece of
fat for the sick woman. Martha and the boy enjoyed these good things
very much; but the sick woman could only say that the smell was very
nourishing, she thought. By-and-by the boy was put to bed, in the same
bed as the one in which his mother lay; but he slept at her feet,
covered with an old quilt made of blue and white patchwork. The
laundress felt a little better by this time. The warm beer had
strengthened her, and the smell of the good food had been pleasant
to her.

"Many thanks, you good soul," she said to Martha. "Now the boy
is asleep, I will tell you all. He is soon asleep. How gentle and
sweet he looks as he lies there with his eyes closed! He does not know
how his mother has suffered; and Heaven grant he never may know it.
I was in service at the counsellor's, the father of the mayor, and
it happened that the youngest of his sons, the student, came home. I
was a young wild girl then, but honest; that I can declare in the
sight of Heaven. The student was merry and gay, brave and
affectionate; every drop of blood in him was good and honorable; a
better man never lived on earth.