No More Learning

--But wait," he said suddenly, "there is
one. Look at the teapot; there is a story in it now. "

And the little boy looked at the teapot; the lid rose up
gradually, the elder-tree blossoms sprang forth one by one, fresh
and white; long boughs came forth; even out of the spout they grew
up in all directions, and formed a bush--nay, a large elder tree,
which stretched its branches up to the bed and pushed the curtains
aside; and there were so many blossoms and such a sweet fragrance!
In the midst of the tree sat a kindly-looking old woman with a strange
dress; it was as green as the leaves, and trimmed with large white
blossoms, so that it was difficult to say whether it was real cloth,
or the leaves and blossoms of the elder-tree.

"What is this woman's name? " asked the little boy.

"Well, the Romans and Greeks used to call her a Dryad," said the
old man; "but we do not understand that. Out in the sailors' quarter
they give her a better name; there she is called elder-tree mother.
Now, you must attentively listen to her and look at the beautiful
elder-tree.

"Just such a large tree, covered with flowers, stands out there;
it grew in the corner of an humble little yard; under this tree sat
two old people one afternoon in the beautiful sunshine. He was an old,
old sailor, and she his old wife; they had already great-grandchildren,
and were soon to celebrate their golden wedding, but they could not
remember the date, and the elder-tree mother was sitting in the tree
and looked as pleased as this one here. 'I know very well when the
golden wedding is to take place,' she said; but they did not hear
it--they were talking of bygone days.

"'Well, do you remember? ' said the old sailor, 'when we were quite
small and used to run about and play--it was in the very same yard
where we now are--we used to put little branches into the ground and
make a garden. '

"'Yes,' said the old woman, 'I remember it very well; we used to
water the branches, and one of them, an elder-tree branch, took
root, and grew and became the large tree under which we are now
sitting as old people. '

"'Certainly, you are right,' he said; 'and in yonder corner
stood a large water-tub; there I used to sail my boat, which I had cut
out myself--it sailed so well; but soon I had to sail somewhere else. '

"'But first we went to school to learn something,' she said,
'and then we were confirmed; we both wept on that day, but in the
afternoon we went out hand in hand, and ascended the high round
tower and looked out into the wide world right over Copenhagen and the
sea; then we walked to Fredericksburg, where the king and the queen
were sailing about in their magnificent boat on the canals. '

"'But soon I had to sail about somewhere else, and for many
years I was travelling about far away from home. '

"'And I often cried about you, for I was afraid lest you were
drowned and lying at the bottom of the sea. Many a time I got up in
the night and looked if the weathercock had turned; it turned often,
but you did not return. I remember one day distinctly: the rain was
pouring down in torrents; the dust-man had come to the house where I
was in service; I went down with the dust-bin and stood for a moment
in the doorway, and looked at the dreadful weather. Then the postman
gave me a letter; it was from you. Heavens! how that letter had
travelled about. I tore it open and read it; I cried and laughed at
the same time, and was so happy! Therein was written that you were
staying in the hot countries, where the coffee grows. These must be
marvellous countries. You said a great deal about them, and I read all
while the rain was pouring down and I was standing there with the
dust-bin. Then suddenly some one put his arm round my waist-'

"'Yes, and you gave him a hearty smack on the cheek,' said the old
man.

"'I did not know that it was you--you had come as quickly as
your letter; and you looked so handsome, and so you do still. You
had a large yellow silk handkerchief in your pocket and a shining
hat on. You looked so well, and the weather in the street was
horrible! '

"'Then we married,' he said. 'Do you remember how we got our first
boy, and then Mary, Niels, Peter, John, and Christian? '

"'Oh yes; and now they have all grown up, and have become useful
members of society, whom everybody cares for. '

"'And their children have had children again,' said the old
sailor. 'Yes, these are children's children, and they are strong and
healthy. If I am not mistaken, our wedding took place at this season
of the year. '

"'Yes, to-day is your golden wedding-day,' said the little
elder-tree mother, stretching her head down between the two old
people, who thought that she was their neighbour who was nodding to
them; they looked at each other and clasped hands. Soon afterwards the
children and grandchildren came, for they knew very well that it was
the golden wedding-day; they had already wished them joy and happiness
in the morning, but the old people had forgotten it, although they
remembered things so well that had passed many, many years ago. The
elder-tree smelt strongly, and the setting sun illuminated the faces
of the two old people, so that they looked quite rosy; the youngest of
the grandchildren danced round them, and cried merrily that there
would be a feast in the evening, for they were to have hot potatoes;
and the elder mother nodded in the tree and cried 'Hooray' with the
others. "

"But that was no fairy tale," said the little boy who had listened
to it.

"You will presently understand it," said the old man who told
the story. "Let us ask little elder-tree mother about it. "

"That was no fairy tale," said the little elder-tree mother;
"but now it comes! Real life furnishes us with subjects for the most
wonderful fairy tales; for otherwise my beautiful elder-bush could not
have grown forth out of the teapot. "

And then she took the little boy out of bed and placed him on
her bosom; the elder branches, full of blossoms, closed over them;
it was as if they sat in a thick leafy bower which flew with them
through the air; it was beautiful beyond all description. The little
elder-tree mother had suddenly become a charming young girl, but her
dress was still of the same green material, covered with white
blossoms, as the elder-tree mother had worn; she had a real elder
blossom on her bosom, and a wreath of the same flowers was wound round
her curly golden hair; her eyes were so large and so blue that it
was wonderful to look at them. She and the boy kissed each other,
and then they were of the same age and felt the same joys. They walked
hand in hand out of the bower, and now stood at home in a beautiful
flower garden. Near the green lawn the father's walking-stick was tied
to a post. There was life in this stick for the little ones, for as
soon as they seated themselves upon it the polished knob turned into a
neighing horse's head, a long black mane was fluttering in the wind,
and four strong slender legs grew out. The animal was fiery and
spirited; they galloped round the lawn. "Hooray! now we shall ride far
away, many miles! " said the boy; "we shall ride to the nobleman's
estate where we were last year. " And they rode round the lawn again,
and the little girl, who, as we know, was no other than the little
elder-tree mother, continually cried, "Now we are in the country! Do
you see the farmhouse there, with the large baking stove, which
projects like a gigantic egg out of the wall into the road? The
elder-tree spreads its branches over it, and the cock struts about and
scratches for the hens. Look how proud he is! Now we are near the
church; it stands on a high hill, under the spreading oak trees; one
of them is half dead! Now we are at the smithy, where the fire roars
and the half-naked men beat with their hammers so that the sparks
fly far and wide. Let's be off to the beautiful farm! " And they passed
by everything the little girl, who was sitting behind on the stick,
described, and the boy saw it, and yet they only went round the
lawn. Then they played in a side-walk, and marked out a little
garden on the ground; she took elder-blossoms out of her hair and
planted them, and they grew exactly like those the old people
planted when they were children, as we have heard before. They
walked about hand in hand, just as the old couple had done when they
were little, but they did not go to the round tower nor to the
Fredericksburg garden. No; the little girl seized the boy round the
waist, and then they flew far into the country. It was spring and it
became summer, it was autumn and it became winter, and thousands of
pictures reflected themselves in the boy's eyes and heart, and the
little girl always sang again, "You will never forget that! " And
during their whole flight the elder-tree smelt so sweetly; he
noticed the roses and the fresh beeches, but the elder-tree smelt much
stronger, for the flowers were fixed on the little girl's bosom,
against which the boy often rested his head during the flight.

"It is beautiful here in spring," said the little girl, and they
were again in the green beechwood, where the thyme breathed forth
sweet fragrance at their feet, and the pink anemones looked lovely
in the green moss. "Oh! that it were always spring in the fragrant
beechwood! "

"Here it is splendid in summer! " she said, and they passed by
old castles of the age of chivalry. The high walls and indented
battlements were reflected in the water of the ditches, on which swans
were swimming and peering into the old shady avenues. The corn waved
in the field like a yellow sea. Red and yellow flowers grew in the
ditches, wild hops and convolvuli in full bloom in the hedges. In
the evening the moon rose, large and round, and the hayricks in the
meadows smelt sweetly. "One can never forget it! "

"Here it is beautiful in autumn! " said the little girl, and the
atmosphere seemed twice as high and blue, while the wood shone with
crimson, green, and gold. The hounds were running off, flocks of
wild fowl flew screaming over the barrows, while the bramble bushes
twined round the old stones. The dark-blue sea was covered with
white-sailed ships, and in the barns sat old women, girls, and
children picking hops into a large tub; the young ones sang songs, and
the old people told fairy tales about goblins and sorcerers. It
could not be more pleasant anywhere.

"Here it's agreeable in winter! " said the little girl, and all the
trees were covered with hoar-frost, so that they looked like white
coral. The snow creaked under one's feet, as if one had new boots
on. One shooting star after another traversed the sky. In the room the
Christmas tree was lit, and there were song and merriment. In the
peasant's cottage the violin sounded, and games were played for
apple quarters; even the poorest child said, "It is beautiful in
winter! "

And indeed it was beautiful! And the little girl showed everything
to the boy, and the elder-tree continued to breathe forth sweet
perfume, while the red flag with the white cross was streaming in
the wind; it was the flag under which the old sailor had served. The
boy became a youth; he was to go out into the wide world, far away
to the countries where the coffee grows. But at parting the little
girl took an elder-blossom from her breast and gave it to him as a
keepsake. He placed it in his prayer-book, and when he opened it in
distant lands it was always at the place where the flower of
remembrance was lying; and the more he looked at it the fresher it
became, so that he could almost smell the fragrance of the woods at
home. He distinctly saw the little girl, with her bright blue eyes,
peeping out from behind the petals, and heard her whispering, "Here it
is beautiful in spring, in summer, in autumn, and in winter," and
hundreds of pictures passed through his mind.

Thus many years rolled by. He had now become an old man, and was
sitting, with his old wife, under an elder-tree in full bloom. They
held each other by the hand exactly as the great-grandfather and the
great-grandmother had done outside, and, like them, they talked
about bygone days and of their golden wedding. The little girl with
the blue eyes and elder-blossoms in her hair was sitting high up in
the tree, and nodded to them, saying, "To-day is the golden
wedding! " And then she took two flowers out of her wreath and kissed
them. They glittered at first like silver, then like gold, and when
she placed them on the heads of the old people each flower became a
golden crown. There they both sat like a king and queen under the
sweet-smelling tree, which looked exactly like an elder-tree, and he
told his wife the story of the elder-tree mother as it had been told
him when he was a little boy. They were both of opinion that the story
contained many points like their own, and these similarities they
liked best.

"Yes, so it is," said the little girl in the tree. "Some call me
Little Elder-tree Mother; others a Dryad; but my real name is
'Remembrance. ' It is I who sit in the tree which grows and grows. I
can remember things and tell stories! But let's see if you have
still got your flower. "

And the old man opened his prayer-book; the elder-blossom was
still in it, and as fresh as if it had only just been put in.
Remembrance nodded, and the two old people, with the golden crowns
on their heads, sat in the glowing evening sun. They closed their eyes
and--and--

Well, now the story is ended! The little boy in bed did not know
whether he had dreamt it or heard it told; the teapot stood on the
table, but no elder-tree was growing out of it, and the old man who
had told the story was on the point of leaving the room, and he did go
out.

"How beautiful it was! " said the little boy. "Mother, I have
been to warm countries! "

"I believe you," said the mother; "if one takes two cups of hot
elder-tea it is quite natural that one gets into warm countries! "
And she covered him up well, so that he might not take cold. "You have
slept soundly while I was arguing with the old man whether it was a
story or a fairy tale! "

"And what has become of the little elder-tree mother? " asked the
boy.

"She is in the teapot," said the mother; "and there she may
remain. "




LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS

"My poor flowers are quite dead," said little Ida, "they were so
pretty yesterday evening, and now all the leaves are hanging down
quite withered. What do they do that for," she asked, of the student
who sat on the sofa; she liked him very much, he could tell the most
amusing stories, and cut out the prettiest pictures; hearts, and
ladies dancing, castles with doors that opened, as well as flowers; he
was a delightful student. "Why do the flowers look so faded to-day? "
she asked again, and pointed to her nosegay, which was quite withered.

"Don't you know what is the matter with them? " said the student.
"The flowers were at a ball last night, and therefore, it is no wonder
they hang their heads. "

"But flowers cannot dance? " cried little Ida.

"Yes indeed, they can," replied the student. "When it grows
dark, and everybody is asleep, they jump about quite merrily. They
have a ball almost every night. "

"Can children go to these balls? "

"Yes," said the student, "little daisies and lilies of the
valley. "

"Where do the beautiful flowers dance? " asked little Ida.

"Have you not often seen the large castle outside the gates of the
town, where the king lives in summer, and where the beautiful garden
is full of flowers? And have you not fed the swans with bread when
they swam towards you? Well, the flowers have capital balls there,
believe me. "

"I was in the garden out there yesterday with my mother," said
Ida, "but all the leaves were off the trees, and there was not a
single flower left. Where are they? I used to see so many in the
summer. "

"They are in the castle," replied the student. "You must know that
as soon as the king and all the court are gone into the town, the
flowers run out of the garden into the castle, and you should see
how merry they are. The two most beautiful roses seat themselves on
the throne, and are called the king and queen, then all the red
cockscombs range themselves on each side, and bow, these are the
lords-in-waiting. After that the pretty flowers come in, and there
is a grand ball. The blue violets represent little naval cadets, and
dance with hyacinths and crocuses which they call young ladies. The
tulips and tiger-lilies are the old ladies who sit and watch the
dancing, so that everything may be conducted with order and
propriety. "

"But," said little Ida, "is there no one there to hurt the flowers
for dancing in the king's castle? "

"No one knows anything about it," said the student. "The old
steward of the castle, who has to watch there at night, sometimes
comes in; but he carries a great bunch of keys, and as soon as the
flowers hear the keys rattle, they run and hide themselves behind
the long curtains, and stand quite still, just peeping their heads
out. Then the old steward says, 'I smell flowers here,' but he
cannot see them. "

"Oh how capital," said little Ida, clapping her hands. "Should I
be able to see these flowers? "

"Yes," said the student, "mind you think of it the next time you
go out, no doubt you will see them, if you peep through the window.
I did so to-day, and I saw a long yellow lily lying stretched out on
the sofa. She was a court lady. "

"Can the flowers from the Botanical Gardens go to these balls? "
asked Ida. "It is such a distance! "

"Oh yes," said the student, "whenever they like, for they can
fly. Have you not seen those beautiful red, white, and yellow
butterflies, that look like flowers? They were flowers once. They have
flown off their stalks into the air, and flap their leaves as if
they were little wings to make them fly. Then, if they behave well,
they obtain permission to fly about during the day, instead of being
obliged to sit still on their stems at home, and so in time their
leaves become real wings. It may be, however, that the flowers in
the Botanical Gardens have never been to the king's palace, and,
therefore, they know nothing of the merry doings at night, which
take place there. I will tell you what to do, and the botanical
professor, who lives close by here, will be so surprised. You know him
very well, do you not? Well, next time you go into his garden, you
must tell one of the flowers that there is going to be a grand ball at
the castle, then that flower will tell all the others, and they will
fly away to the castle as soon as possible. And when the professor
walks into his garden, there will not be a single flower left. How
he will wonder what has become of them! "

"But how can one flower tell another? Flowers cannot speak? "

"No, certainly not," replied the student; "but they can make
signs. Have you not often seen that when the wind blows they nod at
one another, and rustle all their green leaves? "

"Can the professor understand the signs? " asked Ida.

"Yes, to be sure he can. He went one morning into his garden,
and saw a stinging nettle making signs with its leaves to a
beautiful red carnation. It was saying, 'You are so pretty, I like you
very much. ' But the professor did not approve of such nonsense, so
he clapped his hands on the nettle to stop it. Then the leaves,
which are its fingers, stung him so sharply that he has never ventured
to touch a nettle since. "

"Oh how funny! " said Ida, and she laughed.

"How can anyone put such notions into a child's head? " said a
tiresome lawyer, who had come to pay a visit, and sat on the sofa.
He did not like the student, and would grumble when he saw him cutting
out droll or amusing pictures. Sometimes it would be a man hanging
on a gibbet and holding a heart in his hand as if he had been stealing
hearts. Sometimes it was an old witch riding through the air on a
broom and carrying her husband on her nose. But the lawyer did not
like such jokes, and he would say as he had just said, "How can anyone
put such nonsense into a child's head! what absurd fancies there are! "

But to little Ida, all these stories which the student told her
about the flowers, seemed very droll, and she thought over them a
great deal. The flowers did hang their heads, because they had been
dancing all night, and were very tired, and most likely they were ill.
Then she took them into the room where a number of toys lay on a
pretty little table, and the whole of the table drawer besides was
full of beautiful things. Her doll Sophy lay in the doll's bed asleep,
and little Ida said to her, "You must really get up Sophy, and be
content to lie in the drawer to-night; the poor flowers are ill, and
they must lie in your bed, then perhaps they will get well again. "
So she took the doll out, who looked quite cross, and said not a
single word, for she was angry at being turned out of her bed. Ida
placed the flowers in the doll's bed, and drew the quilt over them.
Then she told them to lie quite still and be good, while she made some
tea for them, so that they might be quite well and able to get up
the next morning.
And she drew the curtains close round the little
bed, so that the sun might not shine in their eyes. During the whole
evening she could not help thinking of what the student had told
her. And before she went to bed herself, she was obliged to peep
behind the curtains into the garden where all her mother's beautiful
flowers grew, hyacinths and tulips, and many others. Then she
whispered to them quite softly, "I know you are going to a ball
to-night. " But the flowers appeared as if they did not understand, and
not a leaf moved; still Ida felt quite sure she knew all about it. She
lay awake a long time after she was in bed, thinking how pretty it
must be to see all the beautiful flowers dancing in the king's garden.
"I wonder if my flowers have really been there," she said to
herself, and then she fell asleep. In the night she awoke; she had
been dreaming of the flowers and of the student, as well as of the
tiresome lawyer who found fault with him. It was quite still in
Ida's bedroom; the night-lamp burnt on the table, and her father and
mother were asleep. "I wonder if my flowers are still lying in Sophy's
bed," she thought to herself; "how much I should like to know. " She
raised herself a little, and glanced at the door of the room where all
her flowers and playthings lay; it was partly open, and as she
listened, it seemed as if some one in the room was playing the
piano, but softly and more prettily than she had ever before heard it.
"Now all the flowers are certainly dancing in there," she thought, "oh
how much I should like to see them," but she did not dare move for
fear of disturbing her father and mother. "If they would only come
in here," she thought; but they did not come, and the music
continued to play so beautifully, and was so pretty, that she could
resist no longer. She crept out of her little bed, went softly to
the door and looked into the room. Oh what a splendid sight there
was to be sure! There was no night-lamp burning, but the room appeared
quite light, for the moon shone through the window upon the floor, and
made it almost like day. All the hyacinths and tulips stood in two
long rows down the room, not a single flower remained in the window,
and the flower-pots were all empty. The flowers were dancing
gracefully on the floor, making turns and holding each other by
their long green leaves as they swung round. At the piano sat a
large yellow lily which little Ida was sure she had seen in the
summer, for she remembered the student saying she was very much like
Miss Lina, one of Ida's friends. They all laughed at him then, but now
it seemed to little Ida as if the tall, yellow flower was really
like the young lady. She had just the same manners while playing,
bending her long yellow face from side to side, and nodding in time to
the beautiful music. Then she saw a large purple crocus jump into
the middle of the table where the playthings stood, go up to the
doll's bedstead and draw back the curtains; there lay the sick
flowers, but they got up directly, and nodded to the others as a
sign that they wished to dance with them. The old rough doll, with the
broken mouth, stood up and bowed to the pretty flowers. They did not
look ill at all now, but jumped about and were very merry, yet none of
them noticed little Ida. Presently it seemed as if something fell from
the table. Ida looked that way, and saw a slight carnival rod
jumping down among the flowers as if it belonged to them; it was,
however, very smooth and neat, and a little wax doll with a broad
brimmed hat on her head, like the one worn by the lawyer, sat upon it.
The carnival rod hopped about among the flowers on its three red
stilted feet, and stamped quite loud when it danced the Mazurka; the
flowers could not perform this dance, they were too light to stamp
in that manner. All at once the wax doll which rode on the carnival
rod seemed to grow larger and taller, and it turned round and said
to the paper flowers, "How can you put such things in a child's
head? they are all foolish fancies;" and then the doll was exactly
like the lawyer with the broad brimmed hat, and looked as yellow and
as cross as he did; but the paper dolls struck him on his thin legs,
and he shrunk up again and became quite a little wax doll. This was
very amusing, and Ida could not help laughing. The carnival rod went
on dancing, and the lawyer was obliged to dance also. It was no use,
he might make himself great and tall, or remain a little wax doll with
a large black hat; still he must dance. Then at last the other flowers
interceded for him, especially those who had lain in the doll's bed,
and the carnival rod gave up his dancing. At the same moment a loud
knocking was heard in the drawer, where Ida's doll Sophy lay with many
other toys. Then the rough doll ran to the end of the table, laid
himself flat down upon it, and began to pull the drawer out a little
way.

Then Sophy raised himself, and looked round quite astonished,
"There must be a ball here to-night," said Sophy. "Why did not
somebody tell me? "

"Will you dance with me? " said the rough doll.

"You are the right sort to dance with, certainly," said she,
turning her back upon him.

Then she seated herself on the edge of the drawer, and thought
that perhaps one of the flowers would ask her to dance; but none of
them came. Then she coughed, "Hem, hem, a-hem;" but for all that not
one came. The shabby doll now danced quite alone, and not very
badly, after all. As none of the flowers seemed to notice Sophy, she
let herself down from the drawer to the floor, so as to make a very
great noise. All the flowers came round her directly, and asked if she
had hurt herself, especially those who had lain in her bed. But she
was not hurt at all, and Ida's flowers thanked her for the use of
the nice bed, and were very kind to her. They led her into the
middle of the room, where the moon shone, and danced with her, while
all the other flowers formed a circle round them. Then Sophy was
very happy, and said they might keep her bed; she did not mind lying
in the drawer at all. But the flowers thanked her very much, and
said,--

"We cannot live long. To-morrow morning we shall be quite dead;
and you must tell little Ida to bury us in the garden, near to the
grave of the canary; then, in the summer we shall wake up and be
more beautiful than ever. "

"No, you must not die," said Sophy, as she kissed the flowers.

Then the door of the room opened, and a number of beautiful
flowers danced in. Ida could not imagine where they could come from,
unless they were the flowers from the king's garden. First came two
lovely roses, with little golden crowns on their heads; these were the
king and queen. Beautiful stocks and carnations followed, bowing to
every one present. They had also music with them. Large poppies and
peonies had pea-shells for instruments, and blew into them till they
were quite red in the face. The bunches of blue hyacinths and the
little white snowdrops jingled their bell-like flowers, as if they
were real bells. Then came many more flowers: blue violets, purple
heart's-ease, daisies, and lilies of the valley, and they all danced
together, and kissed each other. It was very beautiful to behold.

At last the flowers wished each other good-night. Then little
Ida crept back into her bed again, and dreamt of all she had seen.
When she arose the next morning, she went quickly to the little table,
to see if the flowers were still there. She drew aside the curtains of
the little bed. There they all lay, but quite faded; much more so than
the day before. Sophy was lying in the drawer where Ida had placed
her; but she looked very sleepy.

"Do you remember what the flowers told you to say to me? " said
little Ida. But Sophy looked quite stupid, and said not a single word.

"You are not kind at all," said Ida; "and yet they all danced with
you. "

Then she took a little paper box, on which were painted
beautiful birds, and laid the dead flowers in it.

"This shall be your pretty coffin," she said; "and by and by, when
my cousins come to visit me, they shall help me to bury you out in the
garden; so that next summer you may grow up again more beautiful
than ever. "

Her cousins were two good-tempered boys, whose names were James
and Adolphus. Their father had given them each a bow and arrow, and
they had brought them to show Ida. She told them about the poor
flowers which were dead; and as soon as they obtained permission, they
went with her to bury them. The two boys walked first, with their
crossbows on their shoulders, and little Ida followed, carrying the
pretty box containing the dead flowers. They dug a little grave in the
garden. Ida kissed her flowers and then laid them, with the box, in
the earth. James and Adolphus then fired their crossbows over the
grave, as they had neither guns nor cannons.




THE LITTLE MATCH-SELLER

It was terribly cold and nearly dark on the last evening of the
old year, and the snow was falling fast. In the cold and the darkness,
a poor little girl, with bare head and naked feet, roamed through
the streets. It is true she had on a pair of slippers when she left
home, but they were not of much use. They were very large, so large,
indeed, that they had belonged to her mother, and the poor little
creature had lost them in running across the street to avoid two
carriages that were rolling along at a terrible rate. One of the
slippers she could not find, and a boy seized upon the other and ran
away with it, saying that he could use it as a cradle, when he had
children of his own. So the little girl went on with her little
naked feet, which were quite red and blue with the cold. In an old
apron she carried a number of matches, and had a bundle of them in her
hands. No one had bought anything of her the whole day, nor had any
one given here even a penny. Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept
along; poor little child, she looked the picture of misery. The
snowflakes fell on her long, fair hair, which hung in curls on her
shoulders, but she regarded them not.

Lights were shining from every window, and there was a savory
smell of roast goose, for it was New-year's eve--yes, she remembered
that. In a corner, between two houses, one of which projected beyond
the other, she sank down and huddled herself together. She had drawn
her little feet under her, but she could not keep off the cold; and
she dared not go home, for she had sold no matches, and could not take
home even a penny of money. Her father would certainly beat her;
besides, it was almost as cold at home as here, for they had only
the roof to cover them, through which the wind howled, although the
largest holes had been stopped up with straw and rags. Her little
hands were almost frozen with the cold. Ah! perhaps a burning match
might be some good, if she could draw it from the bundle and strike it
against the wall, just to warm her fingers. She drew one
out-"scratch! " how it sputtered as it burnt! It gave a warm, bright
light, like a little candle, as she held her hand over it. It was
really a wonderful light. It seemed to the little girl that she was
sitting by a large iron stove, with polished brass feet and a brass
ornament. How the fire burned! and seemed so beautifully warm that the
child stretched out her feet as if to warm them, when, lo! the flame
of the match went out, the stove vanished, and she had only the
remains of the half-burnt match in her hand.

She rubbed another match on the wall. It burst into a flame, and
where its light fell upon the wall it became as transparent as a veil,
and she could see into the room. The table was covered with a snowy
white table-cloth, on which stood a splendid dinner service, and a
steaming roast goose, stuffed with apples and dried plums. And what
was still more wonderful, the goose jumped down from the dish and
waddled across the floor, with a knife and fork in its breast, to
the little girl. Then the match went out, and there remained nothing
but the thick, damp, cold wall before her.

She lighted another match, and then she found herself sitting
under a beautiful Christmas-tree. It was larger and more beautifully
decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass door at
the rich merchant's. Thousands of tapers were burning upon the green
branches, and colored pictures, like those she had seen in the
show-windows, looked down upon it all. The little one stretched out
her hand towards them, and the match went out.

The Christmas lights rose higher and higher, till they looked to
her like the stars in the sky. Then she saw a star fall, leaving
behind it a bright streak of fire. "Some one is dying," thought the
little girl, for her old grandmother, the only one who had ever
loved her, and who was now dead, had told her that when a star
falls, a soul was going up to God.

She again rubbed a match on the wall, and the light shone round
her; in the brightness stood her old grandmother, clear and shining,
yet mild and loving in her appearance. "Grandmother," cried the little
one, "O take me with you; I know you will go away when the match burns
out; you will vanish like the warm stove, the roast goose, and the
large, glorious Christmas-tree. " And she made haste to light the whole
bundle of matches, for she wished to keep her grandmother there. And
the matches glowed with a light that was brighter than the noon-day,
and her grandmother had never appeared so large or so beautiful. She
took the little girl in her arms, and they both flew upwards in
brightness and joy far above the earth, where there was neither cold
nor hunger nor pain, for they were with God.


In the dawn of morning there lay the poor little one, with pale
cheeks and smiling mouth, leaning against the wall; she had been
frozen to death on the last evening of the year; and the New-year's
sun rose and shone upon a little corpse! The child still sat, in the
stiffness of death, holding the matches in her hand, one bundle of
which was burnt. "She tried to warm herself," said some. No one
imagined what beautiful things she had seen, nor into what glory she
had entered with her grandmother, on New-year's day.




THE LITTLE MERMAID

Far out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the
prettiest cornflower, and as clear as crystal, it is very, very
deep; so deep, indeed, that no cable could fathom it: many church
steeples, piled one upon another, would not reach from the ground
beneath to the surface of the water above. There dwell the Sea King
and his subjects. We must not imagine that there is nothing at the
bottom of the sea but bare yellow sand. No, indeed; the most
singular flowers and plants grow there; the leaves and stems of
which are so pliant, that the slightest agitation of the water
causes them to stir as if they had life. Fishes, both large and small,
glide between the branches, as birds fly among the trees here upon
land. In the deepest spot of all, stands the castle of the Sea King.
Its walls are built of coral, and the long, gothic windows are of
the clearest amber. The roof is formed of shells, that open and
close as the water flows over them. Their appearance is very
beautiful, for in each lies a glittering pearl, which would be fit for
the diadem of a queen.

The Sea King had been a widower for many years, and his aged
mother kept house for him. She was a very wise woman, and
exceedingly proud of her high birth; on that account she wore twelve
oysters on her tail; while others, also of high rank, were only
allowed to wear six. She was, however, deserving of very great praise,
especially for her care of the little sea-princesses, her
grand-daughters. They were six beautiful children; but the youngest
was the prettiest of them all; her skin was as clear and delicate as a
rose-leaf, and her eyes as blue as the deepest sea; but, like all
the others, she had no feet, and her body ended in a fish's tail.
All day long they played in the great halls of the castle, or among
the living flowers that grew out of the walls. The large amber windows
were open, and the fish swam in, just as the swallows fly into our
houses when we open the windows, excepting that the fishes swam up
to the princesses, ate out of their hands, and allowed themselves to
be stroked. Outside the castle there was a beautiful garden, in
which grew bright red and dark blue flowers, and blossoms like
flames of fire; the fruit glittered like gold, and the leaves and
stems waved to and fro continually. The earth itself was the finest
sand, but blue as the flame of burning sulphur. Over everything lay
a peculiar blue radiance, as if it were surrounded by the air from
above, through which the blue sky shone, instead of the dark depths of
the sea. In calm weather the sun could be seen, looking like a
purple flower, with the light streaming from the calyx. Each of the
young princesses had a little plot of ground in the garden, where
she might dig and plant as she pleased. One arranged her flower-bed
into the form of a whale; another thought it better to make hers
like the figure of a little mermaid; but that of the youngest was
round like the sun, and contained flowers as red as his rays at
sunset. She was a strange child, quiet and thoughtful; and while her
sisters would be delighted with the wonderful things which they
obtained from the wrecks of vessels, she cared for nothing but her
pretty red flowers, like the sun, excepting a beautiful marble statue.
It was the representation of a handsome boy, carved out of pure
white stone, which had fallen to the bottom of the sea from a wreck.
She planted by the statue a rose-colored weeping willow. It grew
splendidly, and very soon hung its fresh branches over the statue,
almost down to the blue sands. The shadow had a violet tint, and waved
to and fro like the branches; it seemed as if the crown of the tree
and the root were at play, and trying to kiss each other. Nothing gave
her so much pleasure as to hear about the world above the sea. She
made her old grandmother tell her all she knew of the ships and of the
towns, the people and the animals. To her it seemed most wonderful and
beautiful to hear that the flowers of the land should have
fragrance, and not those below the sea; that the trees of the forest
should be green; and that the fishes among the trees could sing so
sweetly, that it was quite a pleasure to hear them. Her grandmother
called the little birds fishes, or she would not have understood
her; for she had never seen birds.

"When you have reached your fifteenth year," said the
grand-mother, "you will have permission to rise up out of the sea,
to sit on the rocks in the moonlight, while the great ships are
sailing by; and then you will see both forests and towns. "

In the following year, one of the sisters would be fifteen: but as
each was a year younger than the other, the youngest would have to
wait five years before her turn came to rise up from the bottom of the
ocean, and see the earth as we do. However, each promised to tell
the others what she saw on her first visit, and what she thought the
most beautiful; for their grandmother could not tell them enough;
there were so many things on which they wanted information. None of
them longed so much for her turn to come as the youngest, she who
had the longest time to wait, and who was so quiet and thoughtful.
Many nights she stood by the open window, looking up through the
dark blue water, and watching the fish as they splashed about with
their fins and tails. She could see the moon and stars shining
faintly; but through the water they looked larger than they do to
our eyes. When something like a black cloud passed between her and
them, she knew that it was either a whale swimming over her head, or a
ship full of human beings, who never imagined that a pretty little
mermaid was standing beneath them, holding out her white hands towards
the keel of their ship.

As soon as the eldest was fifteen, she was allowed to rise to
the surface of the ocean. When she came back, she had hundreds of
things to talk about; but the most beautiful, she said, was to lie
in the moonlight, on a sandbank, in the quiet sea, near the coast, and
to gaze on a large town nearby, where the lights were twinkling like
hundreds of stars; to listen to the sounds of the music, the noise
of carriages, and the voices of human beings, and then to hear the
merry bells peal out from the church steeples; and because she could
not go near to all those wonderful things, she longed for them more
than ever. Oh, did not the youngest sister listen eagerly to all these
descriptions? and afterwards, when she stood at the open window
looking up through the dark blue water, she thought of the great city,
with all its bustle and noise, and even fancied she could hear the
sound of the church bells, down in the depths of the sea.

In another year the second sister received permission to rise to
the surface of the water, and to swim about where she pleased. She
rose just as the sun was setting, and this, she said, was the most
beautiful sight of all. The whole sky looked like gold, while violet
and rose-colored clouds, which she could not describe, floated over
her; and, still more rapidly than the clouds, flew a large flock of
wild swans towards the setting sun, looking like a long white veil
across the sea. She also swam towards the sun; but it sunk into the
waves, and the rosy tints faded from the clouds and from the sea.

The third sister's turn followed; she was the boldest of them all,
and she swam up a broad river that emptied itself into the sea. On the
banks she saw green hills covered with beautiful vines; palaces and
castles peeped out from amid the proud trees of the forest; she
heard the birds singing, and the rays of the sun were so powerful that
she was obliged often to dive down under the water to cool her burning
face. In a narrow creek she found a whole troop of little human
children, quite naked, and sporting about in the water; she wanted
to play with them, but they fled in a great fright; and then a
little black animal came to the water; it was a dog, but she did not
know that, for she had never before seen one. This animal barked at
her so terribly that she became frightened, and rushed back to the
open sea. But she said she should never forget the beautiful forest,
the green hills, and the pretty little children who could swim in
the water, although they had not fish's tails.

The fourth sister was more timid; she remained in the midst of the
sea, but she said it was quite as beautiful there as nearer the
land. She could see for so many miles around her, and the sky above
looked like a bell of glass. She had seen the ships, but at such a
great distance that they looked like sea-gulls. The dolphins sported
in the waves, and the great whales spouted water from their nostrils
till it seemed as if a hundred fountains were playing in every
direction.

The fifth sister's birthday occurred in the winter; so when her
turn came, she saw what the others had not seen the first time they
went up. The sea looked quite green, and large icebergs were
floating about, each like a pearl, she said, but larger and loftier
than the churches built by men. They were of the most singular shapes,
and glittered like diamonds. She had seated herself upon one of the
largest, and let the wind play with her long hair, and she remarked
that all the ships sailed by rapidly, and steered as far away as
they could from the iceberg, as if they were afraid of it. Towards
evening, as the sun went down, dark clouds covered the sky, the
thunder rolled and the lightning flashed, and the red light glowed
on the icebergs as they rocked and tossed on the heaving sea. On all
the ships the sails were reefed with fear and trembling, while she sat
calmly on the floating iceberg, watching the blue lightning, as it
darted its forked flashes into the sea.

When first the sisters had permission to rise to the surface, they
were each delighted with the new and beautiful sights they saw; but
now, as grown-up girls, they could go when they pleased, and they
had become indifferent about it. They wished themselves back again
in the water, and after a month had passed they said it was much
more beautiful down below, and pleasanter to be at home. Yet often, in
the evening hours, the five sisters would twine their arms round
each other, and rise to the surface, in a row. They had more beautiful
voices than any human being could have; and before the approach of a
storm, and when they expected a ship would be lost, they swam before
the vessel, and sang sweetly of the delights to be found in the depths
of the sea, and begging the sailors not to fear if they sank to the
bottom. But the sailors could not understand the song, they took it
for the howling of the storm. And these things were never to be
beautiful for them; for if the ship sank, the men were drowned, and
their dead bodies alone reached the palace of the Sea King.

When the sisters rose, arm-in-arm, through the water in this
way, their youngest sister would stand quite alone, looking after
them, ready to cry, only that the mermaids have no tears, and
therefore they suffer more. "Oh, were I but fifteen years old," said
she: "I know that I shall love the world up there, and all the
people who live in it. "

At last she reached her fifteenth year. "Well, now, you are
grown up," said the old dowager, her grandmother; "so you must let
me adorn you like your other sisters;" and she placed a wreath of
white lilies in her hair, and every flower leaf was half a pearl. Then
the old lady ordered eight great oysters to attach themselves to the
tail of the princess to show her high rank.

"But they hurt me so," said the little mermaid.

"Pride must suffer pain," replied the old lady. Oh, how gladly she
would have shaken off all this grandeur, and laid aside the heavy
wreath! The red flowers in her own garden would have suited her much
better, but she could not help herself: so she said, "Farewell," and
rose as lightly as a bubble to the surface of the water. The sun had
just set as she raised her head above the waves; but the clouds were
tinted with crimson and gold, and through the glimmering twilight
beamed the evening star in all its beauty.