No More Learning

She touched him with
her cold, moist hand, and as he awoke and caught sight of the
hideous form, he shuddered as if he beheld a wicked apparition. She
drew her knife, cut through the bonds which confined his hands and
feet, and beckoned to him to follow her. He uttered some holy names
and made the sign of the cross, while the form remained motionless
by his side.

"Who art thou? " he asked, "whose outward appearance is that of
an animal, while thou willingly performest acts of mercy? "

The frog-figure beckoned to him to follow her, and led him through
a long gallery concealed by hanging drapery to the stables, and then
pointed to a horse. He mounted upon it, and she sprang up also
before him, and held tightly by the animal's mane. The prisoner
understood her, and they rode on at a rapid trot, by a road which he
would never have found by himself, across the open heath. He forgot
her ugly form, and only thought how the mercy and loving-kindness of
the Almighty was acting through this hideous apparition. As he offered
pious prayers and sang holy songs of praise, she trembled. Was it
the effect of prayer and praise that caused this? or, was she
shuddering in the cold morning air at the thought of approaching
twilight? What were her feelings? She raised herself up, and wanted to
stop the horse and spring off, but the Christian priest held her
back with all his might, and then sang a pious song, as if this
could loosen the wicked charm that had changed her into the
semblance of a frog.

And the horse galloped on more wildly than before. The sky painted
itself red, the first sunbeam pierced through the clouds, and in the
clear flood of sunlight the frog became changed. It was Helga again,
young and beautiful, but with a wicked demoniac spirit. He held now
a beautiful young woman in his arms, and he was horrified at the
sight. He stopped the horse, and sprang from its back. He imagined
that some new sorcery was at work. But Helga also leaped from the
horse and stood on the ground. The child's short garment reached
only to her knee. She snatched the sharp knife from her girdle, and
rushed like lightning at the astonished priest. "Let me get at
thee! " she cried; "let me get at thee, that I may plunge this knife
into thy body. Thou art pale as ashes, thou beardless slave. " She
pressed in upon him. They struggled with each other in heavy combat,
but it was as if an invisible power had been given to the Christian in
the struggle. He held her fast, and the old oak under which they stood
seemed to help him, for the loosened roots on the ground became
entangled in the maiden's feet, and held them fast. Close by rose a
bubbling spring, and he sprinkled Helga's face and neck with the
water, commanded the unclean spirit to come forth, and pronounced upon
her a Christian blessing. But the water of faith has no power unless
the well-spring of faith flows within. And yet even here its power was
shown; something more than the mere strength of a man opposed
itself, through his means, against the evil which struggled within
her. His holy action seemed to overpower her. She dropped her arms,
glanced at him with pale cheeks and looks of amazement. He appeared to
her a mighty magician skilled in secret arts; his language was the
darkest magic to her, and the movements of his hands in the air were
as the secret signs of a magician's wand. She would not have blinked
had he waved over her head a sharp knife or a glittering axe; but
she shrunk from him as he signed her with the sign of the cross on her
forehead and breast, and sat before him like a tame bird, with her
head bowed down. Then he spoke to her, in gentle words, of the deed of
love she had performed for him during the night, when she had come
to him in the form of an ugly frog, to loosen his bonds, and to lead
him forth to life and light; and he told her that she was bound in
closer fetters than he had been, and that she could recover also
life and light by his means. He would take her to Hedeby to St.
Ansgarius, and there, in that Christian town, the spell of the
sorcerer would be removed. But he would not let her sit before him
on the horse, though of her own free will she wished to do so. "Thou
must sit behind me, not before me," said he. "Thy magic beauty has a
magic power which comes from an evil origin, and I fear it; still I am
sure to overcome through my faith in Christ. " Then he knelt down,
and prayed with pious fervor. It was as if the quiet woodland were a
holy church consecrated by his worship. The birds sang as if they were
also of this new congregation; and the fragrance of the wild flowers
was as the ambrosial perfume of incense; while, above all, sounded the
words of Scripture, "A light to them that sit in darkness and in the
shadow of death, to guide their feet into the way of peace. " And he
spoke these words with the deep longing of his whole nature.

Meanwhile, the horse that had carried them in wild career stood
quietly by, plucking at the tall bramble-bushes, till the ripe young
berries fell down upon Helga's hands, as if inviting her to eat.
Patiently she allowed herself to be lifted on the horse, and sat there
like a somnambulist--as one who walked in his sleep. The Christian
bound two branches together with bark, in the form of a cross, and
held it on high as they rode through the forest. The way gradually
grew thicker of brushwood, as they rode along, till at last it
became a trackless wilderness. Bushes of the wild sloe here and
there blocked up the path, so that they had to ride over them. The
bubbling spring formed not a stream, but a marsh, round which also
they were obliged to guide the horse; still there were strength and
refreshment in the cool forest breeze, and no trifling power in the
gentle words spoken in faith and Christian love by the young priest,
whose inmost heart yearned to lead this poor lost one into the way
of light and life. It is said that rain-drops can make a hollow in the
hardest stone, and the waves of the sea can smooth and round the rough
edges of the rocks; so did the dew of mercy fall upon Helga, softening
what was hard, and smoothing what was rough in her character. These
effects did not yet appear; she was not herself aware of them; neither
does the seed in the lap of earth know, when the refreshing dew and
the warm sunbeams fall upon it, that it contains within itself power
by which it will flourish and bloom. The song of the mother sinks into
the heart of the child, and the little one prattles the words after
her, without understanding their meaning; but after a time the
thoughts expand, and what has been heard in childhood seems to the
mind clear and bright. So now the "Word," which is all-powerful to
create, was working in the heart of Helga.

They rode forth from the thick forest, crossed the heath, and
again entered a pathless wood. Here, towards evening, they met with
robbers.

"Where hast thou stolen that beauteous maiden? " cried the robbers,
seizing the horse by the bridle, and dragging the two riders from
its back.

The priest had nothing to defend himself with, but the knife he
had taken from Helga, and with this he struck out right and left.
One of the robbers raised his axe against him; but the young priest
sprang on one side, and avoided the blow, which fell with great
force on the horse's neck, so that the blood gushed forth, and the
animal sunk to the ground. Then Helga seemed suddenly to awake from
her long, deep reverie; she threw herself hastily upon the dying
animal. The priest placed himself before her, to defend and shelter
her; but one of the robbers swung his iron axe against the Christian's
head with such force that it was dashed to pieces, the blood and
brains were scattered about, and he fell dead upon the ground. Then
the robbers seized beautiful Helga by her white arms and slender
waist; but at that moment the sun went down, and as its last ray
disappeared, she was changed into the form of a frog. A greenish white
mouth spread half over her face; her arms became thin and slimy; while
broad hands, with webbed fingers, spread themselves out like fans.
Then the robbers, in terror, let her go, and she stood among them, a
hideous monster; and as is the nature of frogs to do, she hopped up as
high as her own size, and disappeared in the thicket. Then the robbers
knew that this must be the work of an evil spirit or some secret
sorcery, and, in a terrible fright, they ran hastily from the spot.

The full moon had already risen, and was shining in all her
radiant splendor over the earth, when from the thicket, in the form of
a frog, crept poor Helga. She stood still by the corpse of the
Christian priest, and the carcase of the dead horse. She looked at
them with eyes that seemed to weep, and from the frog's head came
forth a croaking sound, as when a child bursts into tears. She threw
herself first upon one, and then upon the other; brought water in
her hand, which, from being webbed, was large and hollow, and poured
it over them; but they were dead, and dead they would remain. She
understood that at last. Soon wild animals would come and tear their
dead bodies; but no, that must not happen. Then she dug up the
earth, as deep as she was able, that she might prepare a grave for
them. She had nothing but a branch of a tree and her two hands,
between the fingers of which the webbed skin stretched, and they
were torn by the work, while the blood ran down her hands. She saw
at last that her work would be useless, more than she could
accomplish; so she fetched more water, and washed the face of the
dead, and then covered it with fresh green leaves; she also brought
large boughs and spread over him, and scattered dried leaves between
the branches. Then she brought the heaviest stones that she could
carry, and laid them over the dead body, filling up the crevices
with moss, till she thought she had fenced in his resting-place
strongly enough. The difficult task had employed her the whole
night; and as the sun broke forth, there stood the beautiful Helga
in all her loveliness, with her bleeding hands, and, for the first
time, with tears on her maiden cheeks. It was, in this transformation,
as if two natures were striving together within her; her whole frame
trembled, and she looked around her as if she had just awoke from a
painful dream. She leaned for support against the trunk of a slender
tree, and at last climbed to the topmost branches, like a cat, and
seated herself firmly upon them. She remained there the whole day,
sitting alone, like a frightened squirrel, in the silent solitude of
the wood, where the rest and stillness is as the calm of death.

Butterflies fluttered around her, and close by were several
ant-hills, each with its hundreds of busy little creatures moving
quickly to and fro. In the air, danced myriads of gnats, swarm upon
swarm, troops of buzzing flies, ladybirds, dragon-flies with golden
wings, and other little winged creatures. The worm crawled forth
from the moist ground, and the moles crept out; but, excepting
these, all around had the stillness of death: but when people say
this, they do not quite understand themselves what they mean. None
noticed Helga but a flock of magpies, which flew chattering round
the top of the tree on which she sat. These birds hopped close to
her on the branches with bold curiosity. A glance from her eyes was
a signal to frighten them away, and they were not clever enough to
find out who she was; indeed she hardly knew herself.

When the sun was near setting, and the evening's twilight about to
commence, the approaching transformation aroused her to fresh
exertion. She let herself down gently from the tree, and, as the
last sunbeam vanished, she stood again in the wrinkled form of a frog,
with the torn, webbed skin on her hands, but her eyes now gleamed with
more radiant beauty than they had ever possessed in her most beautiful
form of loveliness; they were now pure, mild maidenly eyes that
shone forth in the face of a frog. They showed the existence of deep
feeling and a human heart, and the beauteous eyes overflowed with
tears, weeping precious drops that lightened the heart.

On the raised mound which she had made as a grave for the dead
priest, she found the cross made of the branches of a tree, the last
work of him who now lay dead and cold beneath it. A sudden thought
came to Helga, and she lifted up the cross and planted it upon the
grave, between the stones that covered him and the dead horse. The sad
recollection brought the tears to her eyes, and in this gentle
spirit she traced the same sign in the sand round the grave; and as
she formed, with both her hands, the sign of the cross, the web skin
fell from them like a torn glove. She washed her hands in the water of
the spring, and gazed with astonishment at their delicate whiteness.
Again she made the holy sign in the air, between herself and the
dead man; her lips trembled, her tongue moved, and the name which
she in her ride through the forest had so often heard spoken, rose
to her lips, and she uttered the words, "Jesus Christ. " Then the
frog skin fell from her; she was once more a lovely maiden. Her head
bent wearily, her tired limbs required rest, and then she slept.

Her sleep, however, was short. Towards midnight, she awoke; before
her stood the dead horse, prancing and full of life, which shone forth
from his eyes and from his wounded neck. Close by his side appeared
the murdered Christian priest, more beautiful than Baldur, as the
Viking's wife had said; but now he came as if in a flame of fire. Such
gravity, such stern justice, such a piercing glance shone from his
large, gentle eyes, that it seemed to penetrate into every corner of
her heart. Beautiful Helga trembled at the look, and her memory
returned with a power as if it had been the day of judgment. Every
good deed that had been done for her, every loving word that had
been said, were vividly before her mind. She understood now that
love had kept her here during the day of her trial; while the creature
formed of dust and clay, soul and spirit, had wrestled and struggled
with evil. She acknowledged that she had only followed the impulses of
an evil disposition, that she had done nothing to cure herself;
everything had been given her, and all had happened as it were by
the ordination of Providence. She bowed herself humbly, confessed
her great imperfections in the sight of Him who can read every fault
of the heart, and then the priest spoke. "Daughter of the moorland,
thou hast come from the swamp and the marshy earth, but from this thou
shalt arise. The sunlight shining into thy inmost soul proves the
origin from which thou hast really sprung, and has restored the body
to its natural form. I am come to thee from the land of the dead,
and thou also must pass through the valley to reach the holy mountains
where mercy and perfection dwell. I cannot lead thee to Hedeby that
thou mayst receive Christian baptism, for first thou must remove the
thick veil with which the waters of the moorland are shrouded, and
bring forth from its depths the living author of thy being and thy
life. Till this is done, thou canst not receive consecration. "

Then he lifted her on the horse and gave her a golden censer,
similar to those she had already seen at the Viking's house. A sweet
perfume arose from it, while the open wound in the forehead of the
slain priest, shone with the rays of a diamond. He took the cross from
the grave, and held it aloft, and now they rode through the air over
the rustling trees, over the hills where warriors lay buried each by
his dead war-horse; and the brazen monumental figures rose up and
galloped forth, and stationed themselves on the summits of the
hills. The golden crescent on their foreheads, fastened with golden
knots, glittered in the moonlight, and their mantles floated in the
wind. The dragon, that guards buried treasure, lifted his head and
gazed after them. The goblins and the satyrs peeped out from beneath
the hills, and flitted to and fro in the fields, waving blue, red, and
green torches, like the glowing sparks in burning paper. Over woodland
and heath, flood and fen, they flew on, till they reached the wild
moor, over which they hovered in broad circles. The Christian priest
held the cross aloft, and it glittered like gold, while from his
lips sounded pious prayers. Beautiful Helga's voice joined with his in
the hymns he sung, as a child joins in her mother's song. She swung
the censer, and a wonderful fragrance of incense arose from it; so
powerful, that the reeds and rushes of the moor burst forth into
blossom. Each germ came forth from the deep ground: all that had
life raised itself. Blooming water-lilies spread themselves forth like
a carpet of wrought flowers, and upon them lay a slumbering woman,
young and beautiful. Helga fancied that it was her own image she saw
reflected in the still water. But it was her mother she beheld, the
wife of the Marsh King, the princess from the land of the Nile.

The dead Christian priest desired that the sleeping woman should
be lifted on the horse, but the horse sank beneath the load, as if
he had been a funeral pall fluttering in the wind. But the sign of the
cross made the airy phantom strong, and then the three rode away
from the marsh to firm ground.

At the same moment the cock crew in the Viking's castle, and the
dream figures dissolved and floated away in the air, but mother and
daughter stood opposite to each other.

"Am I looking at my own image in the deep water? " said the mother.

"Is it myself that I see represented on a white shield? " cried the
daughter.

Then they came nearer to each other in a fond embrace. The
mother's heart beat quickly, and she understood the quickened
pulses. "My child! " she exclaimed, "the flower of my heart--my lotus
flower of the deep water! " and she embraced her child again and
wept, and the tears were as a baptism of new life and love for
Helga. "In swan's plumage I came here," said the mother, "and here I
threw off my feather dress. Then I sank down through the wavering
ground, deep into the marsh beneath, which closed like a wall around
me; I found myself after a while in fresher water; still a power
drew me down deeper and deeper. I felt the weight of sleep upon my
eyelids. Then I slept, and dreams hovered round me. It seemed to me as
if I were again in the pyramids of Egypt, and yet the waving elder
trunk that had frightened me on the moor stood ever before me. I
observed the clefts and wrinkles in the stem; they shone forth in
strange colors, and took the form of hieroglyphics. It was the mummy
case on which I gazed. At last it burst, and forth stepped the
thousand years' old king, the mummy form, black as pitch, black as the
shining wood-snail, or the slimy mud of the swamp. Whether it was
really the mummy or the Marsh King I know not. He seized me in his
arms, and I felt as if I must die. When I recovered myself, I found in
my bosom a little bird, flapping its wings, twittering and fluttering.
The bird flew away from my bosom, upwards towards the dark, heavy
canopy above me, but a long, green band kept it fastened to me. I
heard and understood the tenor of its longings. Freedom! sunlight!
to my father! Then I thought of my father, and the sunny land of my
birth, my life, and my love. Then I loosened the band, and let the
bird fly away to its home--to a father. Since that hour I have
ceased to dream; my sleep has been long and heavy, till in this very
hour, harmony and fragrance awoke me, and set me free. "

The green band which fastened the wings of the bird to the
mother's heart, where did it flutter now? whither had it been
wafted? The stork only had seen it. The band was the green stalk,
the cup of the flower the cradle in which lay the child, that now in
blooming beauty had been folded to the mother's heart.

And while the two were resting in each other's arms, the old stork
flew round and round them in narrowing circles, till at length he flew
away swiftly to his nest, and fetched away the two suits of swan's
feathers, which he had preserved there for many years. Then he
returned to the mother and daughter, and threw the swan's plumage over
them; the feathers immediately closed around them, and they rose up
from the earth in the form of two white swans.

"And now we can converse with pleasure," said the stork-papa;
"we can understand one another, although the beaks of birds are so
different in shape. It is very fortunate that you came to-night.
To-morrow we should have been gone. The mother, myself and the
little ones, we're about to fly to the south. Look at me now: I am
an old friend from the Nile, and a mother's heart contains more than
her beak. She always said that the princess would know how to help
herself. I and the young ones carried the swan's feathers over here,
and I am glad of it now, and how lucky it is that I am here still.
When the day dawns we shall start with a great company of other
storks. We'll fly first, and you can follow in our track, so that
you cannot miss your way. I and the young ones will have an eye upon
you. "

"And the lotus-flower which I was to take with me," said the
Egyptian princess, "is flying here by my side, clothed in swan's
feathers. The flower of my heart will travel with me; and so the
riddle is solved. Now for home! now for home! "

But Helga said she could not leave the Danish land without once
more seeing her foster-mother, the loving wife of the Viking. Each
pleasing recollection, each kind word, every tear from the heart which
her foster-mother had wept for her, rose in her mind, and at that
moment she felt as if she loved this mother the best.

"Yes, we must go to the Viking's castle," said the stork;
"mother and the young ones are waiting for me there. How they will
open their eyes and flap their wings! My wife, you see, does not say
much; she is short and abrupt in her manner; but she means well, for
all that. I will flap my wings at once, that they may hear us coming. "
Then stork-papa flapped his wings in first-rate style, and he and
the swans flew away to the Viking's castle.

In the castle, every one was in a deep sleep. It had been late
in the evening before the Viking's wife retired to rest. She was
anxious about Helga, who, three days before, had vanished with the
Christian priest. Helga must have helped him in his flight, for it was
her horse that was missed from the stable; but by what power had all
this been accomplished? The Viking's wife thought of it with wonder,
thought on the miracles which they said could be performed by those
who believed in the Christian faith, and followed its teachings. These
passing thoughts formed themselves into a vivid dream, and it seemed
to her that she was still lying awake on her couch, while without
darkness reigned. A storm arose; she heard the lake dashing and
rolling from east and west, like the waves of the North Sea or the
Cattegat. The monstrous snake which, it is said, surrounds the earth
in the depths of the ocean, was trembling in spasmodic convulsions.
The night of the fall of the gods was come, "Ragnorock," as the
heathens call the judgment-day, when everything shall pass away,
even the high gods themselves. The war trumpet sounded; riding upon
the rainbow, came the gods, clad in steel, to fight their last
battle on the last battle-field. Before them flew the winged vampires,
and the dead warriors closed up the train. The whole firmament was
ablaze with the northern lights, and yet the darkness triumphed. It
was a terrible hour. And, close to the terrified woman, Helga seemed
to be seated on the floor, in the hideous form of a frog, yet
trembling, and clinging to her foster-mother, who took her on her lap,
and lovingly caressed her, hideous and frog-like as she was. The air
was filled with the clashing of arms and the hissing of arrows, as
if a storm of hail was descending upon the earth. It seemed to her the
hour when earth and sky would burst asunder, and all things be
swallowed up in Saturn's fiery lake; but she knew that a new heaven
and a new earth would arise, and that corn-fields would wave where now
the lake rolled over desolate sands, and the ineffable God reign.
Then
she saw rising from the region of the dead, Baldur the gentle, the
loving, and as the Viking's wife gazed upon him, she recognized his
countenance. It was the captive Christian priest. "White Christian! "
she exclaimed aloud, and with the words, she pressed a kiss on the
forehead of the hideous frog-child. Then the frog-skin fell off, and
Helga stood before her in all her beauty, more lovely and
gentle-looking, and with eyes beaming with love. She kissed the
hands of her foster-mother, blessed her for all her fostering love and
care during the days of her trial and misery, for the thoughts she had
suggested and awoke in her heart, and for naming the Name which she
now repeated. Then beautiful Helga rose as a mighty swan, and spread
her wings with the rushing sound of troops of birds of passage
flying through the air.

Then the Viking's wife awoke, but she still heard the rushing
sound without. She knew it was the time for the storks to depart,
and that it must be their wings which she heard. She felt she should
like to see them once more, and bid them farewell. She rose from her
couch, stepped out on the threshold, and beheld, on the ridge of the
roof, a party of storks ranged side by side. Troops of the birds
were flying in circles over the castle and the highest trees; but just
before her, as she stood on the threshold and close to the well
where Helga had so often sat and alarmed her with her wildness, now
stood two swans, gazing at her with intelligent eyes. Then she
remembered her dream, which still appeared to her as a reality. She
thought of Helga in the form of a swan. She thought of a Christian
priest, and suddenly a wonderful joy arose in her heart. The swans
flapped their wings and arched their necks as if to offer her a
greeting, and the Viking's wife spread out her arms towards them, as
if she accepted it, and smiled through her tears. She was roused
from deep thought by a rustling of wings and snapping of beaks; all
the storks arose, and started on their journey towards the south.

"We will not wait for the swans," said the mamma stork; "if they
want to go with us, let them come now; we can't sit here till the
plovers start. It is a fine thing after all to travel in families, not
like the finches and the partridges. There the male and the female
birds fly in separate flocks, which, to speak candidly, I consider
very unbecoming. "

"What are those swans flapping their wings for? "

"Well, every one flies in his own fashion," said the papa stork.
"The swans fly in an oblique line; the cranes, in the form of a
triangle; and the plovers, in a curved line like a snake. "

"Don't talk about snakes while we are flying up here," said
stork-mamma. "It puts ideas into the children's heads that can not
be realized. "

"Are those the high mountains I have heard spoken of? " asked
Helga, in the swan's plumage.

"They are storm-clouds driving along beneath us," replied her
mother.

"What are yonder white clouds that rise so high? " again inquired
Helga.

"Those are mountains covered with perpetual snows, that you see
yonder," said her mother. And then they flew across the Alps towards
the blue Mediterranean.

"Africa's land! Egyptia's strand! " sang the daughter of the
Nile, in her swan's plumage, as from the upper air she caught sight of
her native land, a narrow, golden, wavy strip on the shores of the
Nile; the other birds espied it also and hastened their flight.

"I can smell the Nile mud and the wet frogs," said the
stork-mamma, "and I begin to feel quite hungry. Yes, now you shall
taste something nice, and you will see the marabout bird, and the
ibis, and the crane. They all belong to our family, but they are not
nearly so handsome as we are. They give themselves great airs,
especially the ibis. The Egyptians have spoilt him. They make a
mummy of him, and stuff him with spices. I would rather be stuffed
with live frogs, and so would you, and so you shall. Better have
something in your inside while you are alive, than to be made a parade
of after you are dead. That is my opinion, and I am always right. "

"The storks are come," was said in the great house on the banks of
the Nile, where the lord lay in the hall on his downy cushions,
covered with a leopard skin, scarcely alive, yet not dead, waiting and
hoping for the lotus-flower from the deep moorland in the far north.
Relatives and servants were standing by his couch, when the two
beautiful swans who had come with the storks flew into the hall.
They threw off their soft white plumage, and two lovely female forms
approached the pale, sick old man, and threw back their long hair, and
when Helga bent over her grandfather, redness came back to his cheeks,
his eyes brightened, and life returned to his benumbed limbs. The
old man rose up with health and energy renewed; daughter and
grandchild welcomed him as joyfully as if with a morning greeting
after a long and troubled dream.

Joy reigned through the whole house, as well as in the stork's
nest; although there the chief cause was really the good food,
especially the quantities of frogs, which seemed to spring out of
the ground in swarms.

Then the learned men hastened to note down, in flying
characters, the story of the two princesses, and spoke of the
arrival of the health-giving flower as a mighty event, which had
been a blessing to the house and the land. Meanwhile, the stork-papa
told the story to his family in his own way; but not till they had
eaten and were satisfied; otherwise they would have had something else
to do than to listen to stories.

"Well," said the stork-mamma, when she had heard it, "you will
be made something of at last; I suppose they can do nothing less. "

"What could I be made? " said stork-papa; "what have I done? --just
nothing. "

"You have done more than all the rest," she replied. "But for
you and the youngsters the two young princesses would never have
seen Egypt again, and the recovery of the old man would not have
been effected. You will become something. They must certainly give you
a doctor's hood, and our young ones will inherit it, and their
children after them, and so on. You already look like an Egyptian
doctor, at least in my eyes. "

"I cannot quite remember the words I heard when I listened on
the roof," said stork-papa, while relating the story to his family;
"all I know is, that what the wise men said was so complicated and
so learned, that they received not only rank, but presents; even the
head cook at the great house was honored with a mark of distinction,
most likely for the soup. "

"And what did you receive? " said the stork-mamma. "They
certainly ought not to forget the most important person in the affair,
as you really are. The learned men have done nothing at all but use
their tongues. Surely they will not overlook you. "

Late in the night, while the gentle sleep of peace rested on the
now happy house, there was still one watcher. It was not stork-papa,
who, although he stood on guard on one leg, could sleep soundly. Helga
alone was awake. She leaned over the balcony, gazing at the
sparkling stars that shone clearer and brighter in the pure air than
they had done in the north, and yet they were the same stars. She
thought of the Viking's wife in the wild moorland, of the gentle
eyes of her foster-mother, and of the tears she had shed over the poor
frog-child that now lived in splendor and starry beauty by the
waters of the Nile, with air balmy and sweet as spring. She thought of
the love that dwelt in the breast of the heathen woman, love that
had been shown to a wretched creature, hateful as a human being, and
hideous when in the form of an animal. She looked at the glittering
stars, and thought of the radiance that had shone forth on the
forehead of the dead man, as she had fled with him over the woodland
and moor. Tones were awakened in her memory; words which she had heard
him speak as they rode onward, when she was carried, wondering and
trembling, through the air; words from the great Fountain of love, the
highest love that embraces all the human race. What had not been won
and achieved by this love?

Day and night beautiful Helga was absorbed in the contemplation of
the great amount of her happiness, and lost herself in the
contemplation, like a child who turns hurriedly from the giver to
examine the beautiful gifts. She was over-powered with her good
fortune, which seemed always increasing, and therefore what might it
become in the future? Had she not been brought by a wonderful
miracle to all this joy and happiness? And in these thoughts she
indulged, until at last she thought no more of the Giver. It was the
over-abundance of youthful spirits unfolding its wings for a daring
flight. Her eyes sparkled with energy, when suddenly arose a loud
noise in the court below, and the daring thought vanished. She
looked down, and saw two large ostriches running round quickly in
narrow circles; she had never seen these creatures before,--great,
coarse, clumsy-looking birds with curious wings that looked as if they
had been clipped, and the birds themselves had the appearance of
having been roughly used. She inquired about them, and for the first
time heard the legend which the Egyptians relate respecting the
ostrich.

Once, say they, the ostriches were a beautiful and glorious race
of birds, with large, strong wings. One evening the other large
birds of the forest said to the ostrich, "Brother, shall we fly to the
river to-morrow morning to drink, God willing? " and the ostrich
answered, "I will. "

With the break of day, therefore, they commenced their flight;
first rising high in the air, towards the sun, which is the eye of
God; still higher and higher the ostrich flew, far above the other
birds, proudly approaching the light, trusting in its own strength,
and thinking not of the Giver, or saying, "if God will. " When suddenly
the avenging angel drew back the veil from the flaming ocean of
sunlight, and in a moment the wings of the proud bird were scorched
and shrivelled, and they sunk miserably to the earth. Since that
time the ostrich and his race have never been able to rise in the air;
they can only fly terror-stricken along the ground, or run round and
round in narrow circles. It is a warning to mankind, that in all our
thoughts and schemes, and in every action we undertake, we should say,
"if God will. "

Then Helga bowed her head thoughtfully and seriously, and looked
at the circling ostrich, as with timid fear and simple pleasure it
glanced at its own great shadow on the sunlit walls. And the story
of the ostrich sunk deeply into the heart and mind of Helga: a life of
happiness, both in the present and in the future, seemed secure for
her, and what was yet to come might be the best of all, God willing.

Early in the spring, when the storks were again about to journey
northward, beautiful Helga took off her golden bracelets, scratched
her name on them, and beckoned to the stork-father. He came to her,
and she placed the golden circlet round his neck, and begged him to
deliver it safely to the Viking's wife, so that she might know that
her foster-daughter still lived, was happy, and had not forgotten her.

"It is rather heavy to carry," thought stork-papa, when he had
it on his neck; "but gold and honor are not to be flung into the
street. The stork brings good fortune--they'll be obliged to
acknowledge that at last. "

"You lay gold, and I lay eggs," said stork-mamma; "with you it
is only once in a way, I lay eggs every year But no one appreciates
what we do; I call it very mortifying. "

"But then we have a consciousness of our own worth, mother,"
replied stork-papa.

"What good will that do you? " retorted stork-mamma; "it will
neither bring you a fair wind, nor a good meal. "

"The little nightingale, who is singing yonder in the tamarind
grove, will soon be going north, too. " Helga said she had often
heard her singing on the wild moor, so she determined to send a
message by her. While flying in the swan's plumage she had learnt
the bird language; she had often conversed with the stork and the
swallow, and she knew that the nightingale would understand. So she
begged the nightingale to fly to the beechwood, on the peninsula of
Jutland, where a mound of stone and twigs had been raised to form
the grave, and she begged the nightingale to persuade all the other
little birds to build their nests round the place, so that evermore
should resound over that grave music and song. And the nightingale
flew away, and time flew away also.

In the autumn, an eagle, standing upon a pyramid, saw a stately
train of richly laden camels, and men attired in armor on foaming
Arabian steeds, whose glossy skins shone like silver, their nostrils
were pink, and their thick, flowing manes hung almost to their slender
legs. A royal prince of Arabia, handsome as a prince should be, and
accompanied by distinguished guests, was on his way to the stately
house, on the roof of which the storks' empty nests might be seen.
They were away now in the far north, but expected to return very soon.
And, indeed, they returned on a day that was rich in joy and gladness.

A marriage was being celebrated, in which the beautiful Helga,
glittering in silk and jewels, was the bride, and the bridegroom the
young Arab prince. Bride and bridegroom sat at the upper end of the
table, between the bride's mother and grandfather. But her gaze was
not on the bridegroom, with his manly, sunburnt face, round which
curled a black beard, and whose dark fiery eyes were fixed upon her;
but away from him, at a twinkling star, that shone down upon her
from the sky. Then was heard the sound of rushing wings beating the
air. The storks were coming home; and the old stork pair, although
tired with the journey and requiring rest, did not fail to fly down at
once to the balustrades of the verandah, for they knew already what
feast was being celebrated. They had heard of it on the borders of the
land, and also that Helga had caused their figures to be represented
on the walls, for they belonged to her history.

"I call that very sensible and pretty," said stork-papa.

"Yes, but it is very little," said mamma stork; "they could not
possibly have done less. "

But, when Helga saw them, she rose and went out into the
verandah to stroke the backs of the storks. The old stork pair bowed
their heads, and curved their necks, and even the youngest among the
young ones felt honored by this reception.

Helga continued to gaze upon the glittering star, which seemed
to glow brighter and purer in its light; then between herself and
the star floated a form, purer than the air, and visible through it.
It floated quite near to her, and she saw that it was the dead
Christian priest, who also was coming to her wedding feast--coming
from the heavenly kingdom.

"The glory and brightness, yonder, outshines all that is known
on earth," said he.

Then Helga the fair prayed more gently, and more earnestly, than
she had ever prayed in her life before, that she might be permitted to
gaze, if only for a single moment, at the glory and brightness of
the heavenly kingdom. Then she felt herself lifted up, as it were,
above the earth, through a sea of sound and thought; not only around
her, but within her, was there light and song, such as words cannot
express.

"Now we must return;" he said; "you will be missed. "

"Only one more look," she begged; "but one short moment more. "

"We must return to earth; the guests will have all departed.
Only one more look! --the last! "

Then Helga stood again in the verandah. But the marriage lamps
in the festive hall had been all extinguished, and the torches outside
had vanished. The storks were gone; not a guest could be seen; no
bridegroom--all in those few short moments seemed to have died. Then a
great dread fell upon her. She stepped from the verandah through the
empty hall into the next chamber, where slept strange warriors. She
opened a side door, which once led into her own apartment, but now, as
she passed through, she found herself suddenly in a garden which she
had never before seen here, the sky blushed red, it was the dawn of
morning. Three minutes only in heaven, and a whole night on earth
had passed away! Then she saw the storks, and called to them in
their own language.

Then stork-papa turned his head towards here, listened to her
words, and drew near. "You speak our language," said he, "what do
you wish? Why do you appear,--you--a strange woman? "

"It is I--it is Helga! Dost thou not know me? Three minutes ago we
were speaking together yonder in the verandah. "

"That is a mistake," said the stork, "you must have dreamed all
this. "

"No, no," she exclaimed. Then she reminded him of the Viking's
castle, of the great lake, and of the journey across the ocean.

Then stork-papa winked his eyes, and said, "Why that's an old
story which happened in the time of my grandfather. There certainly
was a princess of that kind here in Egypt once, who came from the
Danish land, but she vanished on the evening of her wedding day,
many hundred years ago, and never came back. You may read about it
yourself yonder, on a monument in the garden. There you will find
swans and storks sculptured, and on the top is a figure of the
princess Helga, in marble. "

And so it was; Helga understood it all now, and sank on her knees.
The sun burst forth in all its glory, and, as in olden times, the form
of the frog vanished in his beams, and the beautiful form stood
forth in all its loveliness; so now, bathed in light, rose a beautiful
form, purer, clearer than air--a ray of brightness--from the Source of
light Himself. The body crumbled into dust, and a faded lotus-flower
lay on the spot on which Helga had stood.

"Now that is a new ending to the story," said stork-papa; "I
really never expected it would end in this way, but it seems a very
good ending. "

"And what will the young ones say to it, I wonder? " said
stork-mamma.

"Ah, that is a very important question," replied the stork.




THE METAL PIG

In the city of Florence, not far from the Piazza del Granduca,
runs a little street called Porta Rosa. In this street, just in
front of the market-place where vegetables are sold, stands a pig,
made of brass and curiously formed. The bright color has been
changed by age to dark green; but clear, fresh water pours from the
snout, which shines as if it had been polished, and so indeed it
has, for hundreds of poor people and children seize it in their
hands as they place their mouths close to the mouth of the animal,
to drink. It is quite a picture to see a half-naked boy clasping the
well-formed creature by the head, as he presses his rosy lips
against its jaws. Every one who visits Florence can very quickly
find the place; he has only to ask the first beggar he meets for the
Metal Pig, and he will be told where it is.

It was late on a winter evening; the mountains were covered with
snow, but the moon shone brightly, and moonlight in Italy is like a
dull winter's day in the north; indeed it is better, for clear air
seems to raise us above the earth, while in the north a cold, gray,
leaden sky appears to press us down to earth, even as the cold damp
earth shall one day press on us in the grave. In the garden of the
grand duke's palace, under the roof of one of the wings, where a
thousand roses bloom in winter, a little ragged boy had been sitting
the whole day long; a boy, who might serve as a type of Italy,
lovely and smiling, and yet still suffering. He was hungry and
thirsty, yet no one gave him anything; and when it became dark, and
they were about to close the gardens, the porter turned him out. He
stood a long time musing on the bridge which crosses the Arno, and
looking at the glittering stars, reflected in the water which flowed
between him and the elegant marble bridge Della Trinita. He then
walked away towards the Metal Pig, half knelt down, clasped it with
his arms, and then put his mouth to the shining snout and drank deep
draughts of the fresh water. Close by, lay a few salad-leaves and
two chestnuts, which were to serve for his supper. No one was in the
street but himself; it belonged only to him, so he boldly seated
himself on the pig's back, leaned forward so that his curly head could
rest on the head of the animal, and, before he was aware, he fell
asleep.

It was midnight. The Metal Pig raised himself gently, and the
boy heard him say quite distinctly, "Hold tight, little boy, for I
am going to run;" and away he started for a most wonderful ride.
First, they arrived at the Piazza del Granduca, and the metal horse
which bears the duke's statue, neighed aloud. The painted
coats-of-arms on the old council-house shone like transparent
pictures, and Michael Angelo's David tossed his sling; it was as if
everything had life. The metallic groups of figures, among which
were Perseus and the Rape of the Sabines, looked like living
persons, and cries of terror sounded from them all across the noble
square. By the Palazzo degli Uffizi, in the arcade, where the nobility
assemble for the carnival, the Metal Pig stopped. "Hold fast," said
the animal; "hold fast, for I am going up stairs. "

The little boy said not a word; he was half pleased and half
afraid. They entered a long gallery, where the boy had been before.
The walls were resplendent with paintings; here stood statues and
busts, all in a clear light as if it were day. But the grandest
appeared when the door of a side room opened; the little boy could
remember what beautiful things he had seen there, but to-night
everything shone in its brightest colors. Here stood the figure of a
beautiful woman, as beautifully sculptured as possible by one of the
great masters. Her graceful limbs appeared to move; dolphins sprang at
her feet, and immortality shone from her eyes. The world called her
the Venus de' Medici. By her side were statues, in which the spirit of
life breathed in stone; figures of men, one of whom whetted his sword,
and was named the Grinder; wrestling gladiators formed another
group, the sword had been sharpened for them, and they strove for
the goddess of beauty. The boy was dazzled by so much glitter; for the
walls were gleaming with bright colors, all appeared living reality.

As they passed from hall to hall, beauty everywhere showed itself;
and as the Metal Pig went step by step from one picture to the
other, the little boy could see it all plainly. One glory eclipsed
another; yet there was one picture that fixed itself on the little
boy's memory, more especially because of the happy children it
represented, for these the little boy had seen in daylight. Many
pass this picture by with indifference, and yet it contains a treasure
of poetic feeling; it represents Christ descending into Hades. They
are not the lost whom the spectator sees, but the heathen of olden
times. The Florentine, Angiolo Bronzino, painted this picture; most
beautiful is the expression on the face of the two children, who
appear to have full confidence that they shall reach heaven at last.
They are embracing each other, and one little one stretches out his
hand towards another who stands below him, and points to himself, as
if he were saying, "I am going to heaven. " The older people stand as
if uncertain, yet hopeful, and they bow in humble adoration to the
Lord Jesus. On this picture the boy's eyes rested longer than on any
other: the Metal Pig stood still before it. A low sigh was heard.
Did it come from the picture or from the animal? The boy raised his
hands towards the smiling children, and then the Pig ran off with
him through the open vestibule.

"Thank you, thank you, you beautiful animal," said the little boy,
caressing the Metal Pig as it ran down the steps.

"Thanks to yourself also," replied the Metal Pig; "I have helped
you and you have helped me, for it is only when I have an innocent
child on my back that I receive the power to run. Yes; as you see, I
can even venture under the rays of the lamp, in front of the picture
of the Madonna, but I may not enter the church; still from without,
and while you are upon my back, I may look in through the open door.
Do not get down yet, for if you do, then I shall be lifeless, as you
have seen me in the Porta Rosa. "

"I will stay with you, my dear creature," said the little boy.