U€Se i{BRARY THE ^ni ©tfeer Saks. ^Y HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN. NEW YORK: JOHN B. ALDEN. PUBLISHER. COJS)TENT8, Tlie Mnd-King's Daughter 9 The Last Pearl 81 The Metal Pig 86 The Money Pig 106 The Wicked Prince ^^. . ... 111 Children's Prattle ^. 11 Two Brothers ^. 12 By the Almshouse Window 125 Grandmother 129 Five out of One Shell 132 The Girl who Trod upon Bread 138 The Old Oak-tree's Last Dream 164 THE MUD-KING'S DAUGHTER. /^:^|^2)HE storks are in the habit of relating olisii the old shields with which the walla 18 wer^. to be decorated; cushions were laid oii the benches, and dry logs of wood were heaped on the fireplace in the centre of the hail, so that the pile might be easily lighted. Tho Viking's wife had labored so hard herself tha Bhe was quite tired by the evening, and slep soundly. When she awoke towards morning she be- came much alarmed, for the little child was gone. She sprang up, lighted a twig of the pine-tree, and looked about ; and, to her amaze- ment, she saw, in the part of the bed to which she stretched her feet, not the beautiful infant, but a great, ugly frog. She was so much dis- gusted with it that she took up a heavy stick, and was going to kill the nasty creature ; but it looked at her with such wonderfully sad and speaking eyes, that she could not strike it. Again she searched about. The frog gave a faint, ]3itiable cry. She started up, and sprang from the bed to the window : she opened the shutters, and at the same moment the sun streamed in, and cast its bright beams upon the bed and upon the large frog; and all at once it seemed as if the broad mouth of the noxious animal drew itself in, and became small and red — the limbs stretched themselvei THE mud-king's D^LGHTER. 19 into the most beautiful form — ^it was her own little, lovely cliild that lay there, and no ugly frog. " What is all this ?" she exclakned. " Have I di'eamed a bad dream ? That certainly is my pretty, little elfin child lying yonder." And she kissed it and strained it affectionately to her heart ; but it sti-uggied, and tried to bite like the kitten of a wild cat. Neither the next day nor the day after came the Yiking, though he was on the way, but the wind was against him ; it was for the storks. A fair wind for one is a contrary wind for an- other. In the course of a few days and nights it be- came evident to the Viking's wife how things stood with the little child — that it was under the influence of some terrible witchcraft. By day, it was as beautiful as an angel, but it had a wild, evil disposition ; by night, on the con- trary, it was an ugly frog, quiet, except for its croaking, and with melancholy eyes. It had two natures, that changed about, both without an dt within. This arose from the little girl whom the stork had brought possessing by day her own mother's external appearance, and at the same time her father's temper ; while, by 20 THE MtDEING's DADGHTEE. night, on the contrary, she showed her conneo tion with him outwardly in her form, whilst her mother's mind and heart inwardly became hers. What art conld release her from the power which exercised such sorcery over her ? The Yiking's wife felt much anxiety and dis- Tess about it, and yet her heart hung on the poor little being, of w^hose strange state she thought she should not dare to inform her hus- band when he came home ; for he assuredly, as was the custom, would put the poor child out on the high-road, and let any one take it who would. The Yiking's good-natured wife had not the heart to allow this ; therefore she re- Bolved that he should never see the child but by day. At dawn of day the wings of the storks were ieard fluttering over the roof. During the night more than a hundred pau's of storks had been making their preparations, and now they flew up to wend their way to the south. " Let all the males be ready," was the cry. '* Let their mates and little ones join them." "How light we feel !" said the young storks, who were all impatience to be ofi". "How charming to be able to travel to other lands !" "Keep ye all together in one flock," cried THE mud-king's DAUGHTER. 21 the father and mother, " and don't cliatter so much — it will take away your breath." So tliey all flew away. A.bout the same time the blast of a horn feoimding over the heath, gave notice that the Viking had landed with all his men ; they were retm*ning home with rich booty from the Gallic coast, where the people, as in Britain, sang in their terror — " Save us from the savage Normans 1" What life and bnstle were now apparent in the Yiking's castle near "the wild morass!" Casks of mead were brought into the hall, the pile of wxod was lighted, and horses were slaughtered for the grand feast which was to be prepared. The sacrificial priests sprinkled with the horses' warm blood the slaves who were to assist in the offering. The fii'es crackled, the smoke rolled up under the roof, the soot dropped from the beams ; but people were accustomed to that. Guests w^ere invited, and they brought handsome gifts ; rancor and falseness were forgotten — they all became drunk together, and they thi'ust their doubled iists into each other's faces — which w^as a sign oi good-humor. The skald — he was a sort of poet and musician, but at the same time a waiTioi 22 THE mud-king's daughter. — who had been with them, and had witnessed what he sang about, gave them a song, wherein they heard recounted all their achievements m battle and wonderful adventures. At the end of every verse came the same refrain — "Fortune dies, friends die, one dies one's self ; but a glorious name never dies." And then they all struck on their shields, and thundered with their knives or their knui>eni 24 THE MUD-Kma's DAUGHTER. the leaver^ from the trees, lay over wood and hedge; "Birdfeatherless," as the snow is called, was falling thickly ; winter was close at hand. The sparrows seized npon the storks' nest, and talked over, in their fashion, the q]> sent owners. They themselves, the stork pair, with all their young ones, where were they now? The storks were now in the land of Eg}^t, where the sun was shining warmly as with us on a lovely summer day. The tamarind and the acacia grew there; the moonbeams streamed over the temples of Mohammed. On the slen- der minarets sat many a pair of storks, reposing after their long journey : the whole immense flock had fixed themselves, nest by nest, amidst the mighty pillars and broken porticos of tem- ples and forgotten edifices. The date-tree ele- vated to a great height its broad leafy roof, as if t wished to form a shelter from the sun. The gray pyramids stood with their outlines sharply defined in the clear air towards the desert, where the ostrich knew he could use his legs ; nd the lion sat with his large grave eyes, and ^azed on the marble sphinxes that lay half im- bedded in the sand. The waters of the Nile 25 had receded, and a great part of the bed of tlii river was swarming with frogs ; and that, to the stork family, was the pleasantest siglit in the country where they had arrived. The onng ones were astonished at all they saw. ' " Such are the sights here, and thus it always is in our warm country," said the stork-mother, good-humoredly. " Is there yet more to be seen ?" they asked " Shall we go much fiu-ther into the country ?" " There is nothing more worth seeing," re- plied the stork-mother. " Beyond tliis luxuri- ant neighborhood there is nothing but wild forests, where the trees grow close to each other, and are still more closely entangled by prickly creeping plants, weaving such a wall of verdure, that only the elephant, with his strong clumsy feet, can there tread his way. The snakes are too laro;e for us there, and the lizards too livelv. If ye would go to the desert, ye will meet with nothing but sand ; it wiU fill your eyes, it wil] come in gusts, and cover your feathers. Ko, it is best here. Here are frogs and grasshoppers. I shall remain here, and so shall you." And they remained. The old ones sat in their nest upon the graceful minaret ; they re- posed themselves, and yet thev had enough tc THE MUD-KING S DAUGHTEB. V do to smootli tlieir wings and nib their beaks on tlieir red stockings ; and thej stretched out their necks, sahited gravely, and lifted up their I leads with their high foreheads and fine sof feathers, and their brown eyes looked so wise. The female yonng ones strutted about proudly among the juicy reeds, stole sly glances at the other young storks, made acquaintances, and slaughtered a frog at every third step, or went lounging about with little snakes in their bills, which they fancied looked well, and which they knew would taste well. The male young ones got into quan-els; struck each other with their wings ; peclced at each other with then- beaks, even until blood flowed. Then they all thought of engaging themselves — the male and the female young ones. It was for that they lived, and they built nests, and got again into new quarrels ; for in these wann countries every one is so hotheaded. Nevertheless they were very hap]:>y, and this was a great joy to the old storks. Every day there was warm sunshine — every day plenty tc eat. They had nothing to think of except pleasure. But yonder, within the splendid pal- ace of tlieir Egyptian host, as they called him "Jiere was but little pleasure to be found THE MXT)-KIXG's DAUGHl-EK. 27 The wealtliy, miglity chief lay upon his couch, stifieued in all his limbs — stretched out like a mummy in the centre of the grand sa- loon with the many-colored painted walls : it was as if he were lying in a tulip. Kinsmen and servants stood around him. Dead he waa not, yet it could hardly be said that he lived. The healing bog flower from the far-away lands in the north — that which she was to have sought and plucked for him — she who loved him best — would never now be brought. His beautiful young daughter, who in the magic garb of a swan had flo^Ti over sea and land away to the distant north, would never more return. " §he is dead and gone," had the two swan ladies, her companions, declared on their return home. They had concocted a tale, and they told it as follows. " We had flown all three high up in the air when a sportsman saw us, and shot at us with his arrow. It struck our young friend; and, Blowly singing her farewell song, she sank like a dying swan down into the midst of the lake m the wood. There, on its banks, under a fragrant weeping birch-tree, we buried her. But we took a just revenge : we bound Are un- der the wings of the swallow that built unde? the sportsman's thatched roof. It kindled— hia house was soon in flames — ^lie was burned within it — and the flames shone as far over the sea aa to the drooping birch, where she is now earth within the earth. Alas ! never will she retnri to the land of Egypt." And thej both wept bitterly ; and the old stork-father, when he heard it, rubbed his bill until it was quite sore. "Lies and deceit!" he cried. "I should like, above all things, to run my beak into their breasts." " And break it off," said the stork-mother ; " you would look remarkably well then. Think flrst of yourself, and the interests of your own family; every thing else is of little conse- quence." " I will, however, jDlace myself upon the edge of the open cupola to-morrcnv, when all the learned and the wise are to assemble to take the case of the sick man into consideration; perhaps they may then arrive a little nearer to the truth." And the learned and the wise met together, and talked much, deeply, and profoundly, of which the stork could make nothing at all; ^nd, s:>oth to say, there was no result obtained THE MUD- king's DACGHTES. 29 from all tliis talking, either for the invalid or for his daughter in "the wild morass;" yet, nevertheless, it was all very well to listen to — one must listen to a great deal in this world. But now it were best, perhaps, for us to hear what had happened formerly. "We shall then be better acquainted with the story — at least, we shall know as much as the stork-father did. " Love bestows life ; the highest love bestows the highest life; it is only through love that his life can be saved," was what had been said ; and it was amazingly wisely and well said, the learned declared. " It is a beautiful thought," said the stork- father. " I don't quite comprehend it," said the stork- mother, "but that is not ray fault — it is the fault of the thought ; though it is all one to me, for I have other things to tliink upon." And then the learned talked of love between this and that — that there was a difference. Love such as lovers felt, and that between pa- rents and children ; between light and plants liow the sunbeams kissed the ground, and how thereby the seeds sprouted forth — it was all so diffusely and learnedly expounded, that it was i'H possible for the stork-father to follow tha 30 discourse, much less to repeat it. It made him vQYj thoughtful, however; he half closed his- eyes, and actually stood on one leg the whole of the next day, reflecting on what he ha^ heard. So much learning was difficult for him to digest*. But this much the stork-father understood. He had heard both common people and great people speak as if they really felt it, that it waa a great misfortune to many thousands, and to tlie country in general, that the king lay so ill, and tliat nothing could be done to bring about Ills recovery. It would be a joy and a blessing to all if he could but be restored to health. "But where grew the health-giving flower that might cure him ?" Everybody asked that question. Scientific writings were searched, the glittering stars were consulted, the wind and the weather. Every traveller that could be found was appealed to, until at length the learned and the wise, as before stated, pitched upon this : " Love bestows life — ^life to a father." And though this dictum was really not under stood by themselves, they adopted it, and wrote it out as a prescription. '' Love bestows litV ■ — well and good. But how was this to be ap plied ? Here they were at a stand. At length, 31 However, tliey agreed that tlie princess must be tlie means of procnring the necessary help, as Bhe loved her father with all her heart and Boul. They also agreed on a mode of proceed- ing. It is more than a year and a day since then. They settled that, when the new moon had just disappeared, she was to betake herseli by night to the marble sphinx in the desert, to remove the sand from the entrance with her "oot, and then to follow one of the long passages v^hich led to the centre of the great pyramids, where one of the most mighty monarchs ot ancient times, surrounded by splendor and magnificence, lay in his mummy-coffin. There she was to lean her head over the corpse, and then it would be revealed to her where life and health for her father were to be found. All this she had performed, and in a dream had been instructed that from the deep morass high up in the Danish land — the place was minutely described to her — she might bring home a certain lotus-flower, which beneath the water would t4>uch her breast, that would cure him. And therefore she had flown, in the magica disguise of a swan, fi-om Egypt up to 'Hbt 82 THE mud-king's daughteb. the stork-father and stork-raotlier : and no\\, though rather late, we also know it. We know that tlie mud-king dragged her down with him, and that, as far as regarded her home, she was dead and gone ; only the wisest of them all said, like the stork-mother, " She can take care of herself;" and, knowing no better, they waited to see what would turn up. " I think I shall steal their swan garbs from the two wicked princesses," said the stork- father ; " then they will not be able to go to 'the wild morass' and do mischief. I shall leave the swan disguises themselves up yonder till there is some use for them." " Where could you keep them ?" asked the old female stork. " In our nest near ^ the wild morass,' " he re- plied. " I and our eldest young ones can carry them; and if we find them too troublesome, tliere are plenty of places on the way where we can liide them until our next flight. One Bwan's dress would be enough for lier, to be Eure ; but two are better. It is a good thing to have abundant means of travelling at com mand in a country so far north." " You will get no thanks for what you pro pose doing," said the stork-mother ; '^ but you 33 are the master, and must please jourself 1 liave notliing to say except at hatching-time." At the Yiking's castle near " the wild mo- rass," whither the storks were flying in th spring, the little girl had received her name, She was called Helga ; but this name was too soft for one with such dispositions as that lovely little creature had. She grew fast month by month; and in a few years, even while the storks were making theh* habitual jom^neys in autumn towards the ^i\e, in spring towards " the wild morass," the little child had grown up into a big girl, and before any one could have thought it, she was in her sixteenth year, and a most beautiful young lady — charming ii? appearance, but hard and fierce in temper — the most savage of the savage in that gloomy, cruel time. It was a pleasure to her to sprinkle with her white hands the reeking blood of the horse slaughtered for an offering. She would bite, in her barbarous sport, the neck of the black cock, which was to be slaughtered by the sac- rificial priest ; and to her foster-father she said in positive earnestness : " K your enemy were to come and cast ropes 34 over the beams that support the roof, and drag them down upon yom- chamber whilst yon were sleeping, I would not awaken yon if 1 could — I wonld not hear it — the blood would tingle as it does now in that ear on which years ago, you dared to give me a blow. I remember it well." But the Yiking did not believe slie spoke seriously. Like every one else, he was fas- cinated by her extreme beauty, and never troubled hhnself to observe if the mind of little Helga were in unison with her Iouks. 8he would sit on horseback without a saddle, as if grown fast to the animal, and go at full gallop ; nor would she spring off, even if her horse and other ill-natured ones were biting each other. Entirely dressed as she was, she would cast herself from the bank into the strong current of the fiord, and swim out to meet the Yiking, when his boat was approaching the land. 01 her thick, splendid hair she had cut off the longest lock, and plaited for herself a string to lier bow. " Self-made is well made," she said. The Yiking's wife, according to the manners and customs of the age in which she lived, waa sti'ong in mind, and decided in purpose; but 35 with lier daughter she was like a soft, timid woman. She was well aware that the dread- ful child was under the influence of sorcery. And Helga apparently took a malicioug pleasure in frightening her mother. Often when the latter was standing on the balcony or walking in the courtyard, Helga would place herself on the side of the well, throw her arms up in the air, and then let herself fall headlong into the narrow, deep hole, where, with her frog nature, she would duck and raise herself up again, and then crawl up as if she had been a cat, and run dripping of water into the grand saloon, so that the green rushes which were strewed over the floor partook ol the wet stream. There was but one restraint upon little Helga — that was the evening tmilight. In it she became quiet and thouofhtful — would allow herself to be called and guided : then, too, she would- seem to feel some aflfection for her mother ; and when the sun sank, and the outer and inward change took place, she would sit till and sorrowful, shrivelled up into the form of a frog, though the head was now much larger than that Kttle animal's, and therefore «he was uglier thai ever: she looked like a 36 THE ilUD-jaNO's DAUGHTEK. 1 miserable dwarf, with a frog's head and webbed iingers. There was something very sad in hei eyes; voice she had none, except a kind ol croak like a child sobbing in its dreams. Then would the Yiking's wife take her in her lap ; he wonld forget the ngly form, and look only at the melancholy eyes ; and more than once she exclaimed : " I conld almost wish that thou wert always my dumb fair^^-child, for thou art more fearful to look at when thy form resumes its beauty." And she wrote Runic rhymes against en- chantment and infirmity, and threw them over the poor creature ; but there was no change foi the better. " One could liardly believe that she was once so small as to lie in the calyx of a water-lily," said the stork-father. " She is now quite a woman, and the image of her Egj^^tian mother. Her, alas ! we have never seen again. She did uot take good care of herself, as thou didst expect, and the learned people predicted. Fear after year I have flown backwards and or wards over ' the wild morass,' but never ha ve I seen a sign of her. Yes, I can assure thee, during the years we have been coming up here, when I have arrived some days before THE MUD-KLNGS DAUGHTEE. 37 thee, that I might mend tlie nest and set every thinii: ill order in it, I have for a whole nialit flown, as if I had been an owl or a bat, contiri- -ually over the open water, but to no purpose. NTo have had no use either for the two swan disguises, which I and the young ones dragged ill the way up here from the banks of the Nile. It was hard enough work, and it took us three journeys to bring them up. They have now lain here for years at the bottom of our nest ; and should a fire by any chance brealv out, and the Yiking's house be bm'ned dovni, they would be lost." " And our good nest would be lost," said the old female stork ; " but thou thinkest less of that than of these feather things and thy bog princess. Thou hadst better go down to her at once, and remain in the mire. Thou art a hard-hearted father to thine own : that I have said since I laid my first eggs. What if I or one of our young ones should get an aiTow \mder our wmgs from that fierce crazy brat at the Yikmg's ? She does not care what slie does. This has been much longer our home than hers, she ought to recollect. We do not Vorget our duty ; we pay our rent every year — a feather, an egg, and a young one — as we 38 THE MUD-KmO S DAUGHTER. onght to do. Dost thou think that when sk4 is oulside I can venture to go below, as in former days, or as I do in Egypt, where I am almost everybody's comrade, not to mentioii til at I can there even peep into the pots and pans without any fear ? No ; I sit up here and fret myself about her---the hussy ! and T fret myself at thee too. Thou shouldst have left her lying in the water-lily, and there would have been an end of her." " Thy words are much harder than thy heart," said the stork-father. "I know thee better than thou knowest thyself." And then he made a hop, flapped his wings twice, stretched his legs out behind him, and away he flew, or rather sailed, without moving his wings, until he had got to some distance. Then he brought his wings into play : +h.e sua shone upon his white feathers ; he stretched his head and his neck forward, and hastened on his way. " He is, nevertheless, still the handsomest o them all," said his admiring mate; "but I will not tell him that." Late that autumn the Yiking returned home, bringing with him booty and prisoners. Among 89 these was a young Cliristian priest, one of tlie men wlio denounced the gods of the northera mythology. Often, about this time, was the new religion tallied of in baronial halls and ladies' bowers — the religion that was s]^*ead ing over all lands of the south, and which, with the holy Ansgarius,^ had even reached as far as Hedeby. Even little Helga had heard ol the pm-e religion of Christ, who, from love to * Ansgarius was originally a monk from the monastery of New Corbie, in Saxony, to which several of the monks of Corbie in France had migrated in A. d. 822. Its abbot, Paschasius Radbert, who died in 865, was, according to Cardinal Bellarmine, the first fully to propagate the belief, now entertained in the Roman-cathoUc Church, of the corporeal presence of the Saviour in the sacrament. Ans- garius, who was very enthusiastic, accepted a mission to the north of Europe, and preached Christianity in Den- mark and Sweden. Jutland was for some time the sceno cf his labors, and he made many converts there ; also in Sleswig, where a Christian school for children was estab- lished, who, on leaving it, were sent to spread Christiani ty throughout the country. An archbishopric was founded by tlio then Emperor of Germany in conformity to a ])]an *7hich had been traced, though not carried out, by Charle- enagne ; and this was bestowed upon Ansgarius. But the church he had built was burnt by some still heathen Danes, who, gathering a large fleet, invaded Hamburg, which they also reduced to ashes. The Emperor theo oij.'ititutcd him Biahop of Bremen. — Trans. 40 THE mud-king's DAUGHTER. mankind, had given himself as a sacrifice to save them ; but with her it went in at one ear and out at the other, to use a common saying riie word lave alone seemed to have made. S(jme impression upon her, when she shrunk into the miserable fonn of a frog: in the closed up chamber. But the Yiking's wife had lis tened to, and felt herself wonderfully aifected by, the rumor and the Saga about the Son of the one only true God. The men, returning from their expedition, had told of the splendid temples of costly hewn stone raised to Him whose errand was love. A pair of heavy golden vessels, beautifully wrought out of pure gold, were brought home, and both had a charming, spicy perfume. They wero the censers which the Christian priests swung before the altars, on which blood never flowed ; but w^ine and the consecrated bread were r.hanged into the blood of Him who had given himself for generations yet unborn. To the deep, stone- walled cellars of the Yi king's log-house was the young captive, th Christian priest, consigned, fettered w^ith cords round his feet and his hands. He was as beafi.- tiful as Baldur to look at, said the Yi king's wife, and she was grieved a^t his into ; hu* THE MHQKINO 8 DAUGHTEE. 41 young Ilelga wished that he should be ham- strung, and bound to the tails of wild oxen. " Then I should let loose the dogs. Halloo ! llien awaj over bogs and pools to the naked neath. Hah ! that would be something pleas- ant to see — still pleasanter to follow him on the wild journey." But the Yiking would not hear of his being put to such a death. On the morrow, as a scoffer and denier of the high gods, he was to be offered up as a sacrifice to them upon the blood-stone in the sacred grove. He was to be the first human sacrifice ever offered up there. Young Helga prayed that she might be al- lowed to sprinkle with the blood of the captive the images of the gods and the assembled spec- tators. She sharpened her gleaming knife, and, as one of the large ferocious dogs, of which there were plenty in the court-yard, leaped over her feet, she stuck the knife into liia side. "That is to prove the blade," she ex- claimed. And the Yiking's wife was shocked at the savage-tempered, evil-minded girl; and when night came, and the beauteous form and dispo 42 Bition of her daughter changed, she ])oured forth her sorrow to her in warm words, which came from the bottom of her heart. The hideous frog with the ogre head stood before her, and fixed its brown sad ejes upon her, listened, and seemed to understand with a human being's intellect. "Never, even to mj husband, have I hinted at the double sufferings I have through you,'' said the Yiking's wife. " There is more sorrow in my heart on your account than I could have believed. Great is a mother's love. But love never enters your mind. Your heart is like a lump of cold hard mud. From whence did you come to my house ?" Then the ugly shape trembled violently ; it seemed as if these words touched an invisible tie between the body and the soul — large tears started to its eyes. " Your time of trouble will come some day depend on it," said the Yiking's wife, " and dreadful will it also be for me. Better had it been liad you been put out on the highway, and the chilliness of the night had benumbed you until you slept in death;" and the Yiking's wife w^ept salt tears, and went angry and dis- tressed away, passing round behind the loose 43 skin partition that himg over an upper Leaiu to divide the chamber. Alone in a coiTier sat tlie shrivelled fi'og Slie was mute, but after a short interval she littered a sort of lialf-suppressed sigh. It waa as if in sorrow a new life had aAvoke in some nook of her heart. She took a step forward, listened, advanced again, and grasping with her awkward hands the heavy bar that waa placed across the door, she removed it softly and quietly drew away the pin that was stuck in over the latch. She then seized the lighted lamp that stood in the room beyond : it seemed as if a great resolution had given her strength. She made her way down to the dungeon, drew back the iron bolt that fastened the trap-door, and slid down to where the prisoner was lying He was sleeping. She touched him with her cold, clammy hand ; and when he awoke, and beheld the disgusting creature, he shuddered a-a if he had seen an evil apparition. She drew hei knife, severed his bonds, and beckoned to him to follow her. He named holy names, made the sign of the cross, and when the strange shape stood ^ itl> out moving, he exclaimed, in the words oi the Bible,— ,44 THE MLb KLNG's DAUGHTER. " *• Blesfred is lie that considereth the poor : the Lord will deliver him in time of trouble.^ Who art thou ? IIow comes it that, under the exterior of such an animal, there is so much 'compassionate feeling ?" The frog beckoned to him, and led him, be- lind tapestry that concealed him, through pri- vate passages out to the stables, and pointed tc a horse. He spi-ang on it, and she also jumped up ; and, placing herself before him, she held by the animal's mane. The prisoner under- stood her movement ; and at full gallop they rode, by a path he never could have found, away to the open heath. He forgot her ugly form — he knew that the grace and mercy of God could be evinced even by means of hobgoblins — he put up earnest prayers, and sang holy hymns. She trembled. Was it the power of the prayers and hymna that affected her thus ? or was it a cold shiver- ing at the approach of morning, that was about to dawn? What was it that she felt? She raised herself up into the air, attempted to stop the horse, and was on the point of leaping down; but the Christian priest held her fast with all his might, and chanted a psalm, which he thought would liave sufficient strength to THE MUD-KINGS DAUGHTER. 45 Dvercome the influence of the witchcraft under which she was kept in the hideous disguise oi a /rog. And the horse dashed more wildly for- ward, the heavens became red, the first rays ol the sun burst forth through the morning skj, nd with that clear gush of light came the miraculous change — she was the young beauty, with the cruel, demoniacal spint. The aston- ished priest held the loveliest maiden in his arms he had ever beheld ; but he was horror- struck, and, springing from the horse, he stop- ped it, expecting to see it also the ^actim t'* some fearful sorceiy. Young Helga sprang at the same moment to the ground, her short, childlike dress reaching no lower than her knees. Suddenly she drew her sharp knife from her belt, and rushed furiously upon him. " Let me but reach thee — let me but reach thee, and my knife shall find its way to thy heart. Thou art pale in thy terror, beardless slave !" She closed with him ; a severe struggle en sued, but it seemed as if some invincible power bestowed strength upon the Christian priest. He held her fast ; and the old oak-tree close by came to his assistance by binding down her Teet with its roots, which were half loosened 46 THE MUD-KING^8 DAUGHTEB. 1 from the earth, her feet having slid undei them. Tliere was a fountain near, and he splashed the clear, fresh water over her face and neck, commanding the imclean spirit to pass out of her, and signed her according to the Cliristain rites; but the baptismal watei had no power where the fountain of belief had not streamed upon the heart. Yet still he was the victor. Yes, more than human strength could have accomplished against the powers of evil lay in his acts, which, as it were, overpowered her. She suffered her arms to sink, and gazed with wondering looks and blanched cheeks upon the man whom she deemed some mighty wizard, strong in sorcery and the black art. These were mystic Ehun^a he had recited, and magic characters he had traced in the air. ISTot for the glancing axe or the well-sharpened knife, if he had brandished these before her eyes, would they have blinked, )v would she have winced ; but she winced now when he made the sign of the cross upon her brow and bosom, and she stood new like a tame bird, her head bowed down upon her breast. Then he spoke kindly to her of the work ot mercy she had performed towards him that figlit, when, in the ugly disguise of a frog, she 47 had come to him, liad loosened his bonds, and brought him forth to light and life. She also was bound — ^bound even with stronger fetters than he had been, he said ; but she also should be set fi'ee, and like him attain to light and life. He would take her to Hedebj, to tht holy Ansgarius. There, in the Christian city, the witchcraft in which she was held would be exorcised ; but not before him must she sit on horseback, even if she wished it herself — he dared not place her there. " Thou must sit behind me on the horse, not before me. Thine enchanting beauty has a magic power bestowed by the evil one. I fear it ; and yet the victory shall be mine through Christ.^' He knelt down and prayed fervently. It seemed as if the surrounding wood had been consecrated into a holy temple ; the birds be- gan to sing, as if they belonged to tlfe new con gregation; the wild thjTue sent forth its fi-a- grant scent, as if to take the place of incense while the priest proclaimed these Bible words .• "To give light to them that sit in darkness, and in the shadow of death ; to guide our feet into the way of peace." And he spoke of everlasting life ; and as h* 48 discoursed, the horse which had carried them in their wild flight stood still, and pulled at the large bramble berries, so that the ripest ones fell on little Helga's hand, inviting her to pluc> them for herself. She allowed herself patiently to be liftea upon tlie horse, and she sat on his back like a somnambulist, who was neither in a waking nor a sleeping state. The Christian priest tied two small green branches together in the form of a cross, which he held high aloft ; and thus they rode through the forest, which became thicker and thicker, and the path, if path it could be called, taking them further into it. The blackthorn stood as if to bar their way, and they had to ride round outside of it ; the trick- ling streams swelled no longer into mere rivu- lets, but into stagnant pools, and they had to ride round them ; but as the soft wind that played among the*foliage of the trees was refi*eshing and strengthening to the travellers, so the mild words that were spoken in Christian charit} and truth served to lead the benighted one t- light and life. It is said that a constant dripping of water A ill make a hollow in the hardest stone, and that the waves of the sea will in time round THE MCD KDfG's DAUGHTEK. 49 {"he edges of the sharpest rocks. The dew of gjrace which fell for little Helga softened the hard, and smoothed the sharp, in her nature. True, it was not discernible jet in her, nor was Bhe aware of it herself. What knows the seed in the ground of the effect which the refreshing dew and the warm sunbeams are to have in producing from it vegetation and flow^ei*s ? - As a mother's song to her child, unmarked, makes an impression upon its infant mind, and it prattles after her several of the words without understanding them, but in time these words arrange themselves into order, and thej become clearer, so in the case of Helga worked t/iai word w^hich is mighty to save. They rode out of the forest, and crossed an open heath ; then again they entered a pathless wood, where, towards evening, they encounter- ed a band of robbers. "Whence didst thou steal that beautiful wench?" they shouted, as they stopped the horse and dragged its two riders down ; for they were strong and robust men. The priest had no other weapon than the knife which he had taken from little Helga. With that he now stood on his defence. One of the robbeis swung his ponderous axe, but the young Chris- 50 THE MUD-KESrG's DAUGHTER. tian fortunately sprang aside in time to avoid the blow, which then fell on the unfortunate horsej and the shai-p edge entered into its neck ; blood streamed from the wound, and the poor animal fell to the ground. Helga, who had only at that moment awoke from her long, deep trance, sprang forward, and cast herself over the gasp- ing creature. The Christian priest placed him- self before her as a shield and protection from the lawless men ; but one of them struck him on the forehead with an iron hammer, so that it was dashed in, and the blood and braina gushed forth, while he fell down dead on the spot. The robbers seized Helga by her white ai'ms ; but at that moment the sun went down, its last beam faded away, and she was transformed into a hideous-looking frog. The pale green mouth stretched itself over half the face, its arms became thin and slimy, and a broad hand, with webbed-like membranes, extended itself like a fan. Then the robbers withdrew their hold oi her in terror and astonishment. She stood like the ugly animal among them, and, accord- ing to the nature of a frog, she began to hop about, and, jumping faster than usual, she soon escaped into the depths of the thicket. The 51 robbers were then convinced that it was some evil artifice of the mischief-loving Loke. or else some secret magical deception ; and in dismay they fled from the place. The full moon had risen, and its silver light penetrated even the gloomy recesses of the forest, when from among the low thick brush^ wood, in the frog's hideous form, crept the young Helga. She stopped w^hen she reached the bodies of the Christian priest and the slaughtered horse; she gazed on tliem with eyes that seemed full of tears, and the frog uttered a sound that somew^hat resembled the sob of a child who was on the point of crying. She threw herself first over the one, then over the other ; then took water up in her webbed hand, and poured it over them ; but all was in. vain — they were dead, and dead they w^ould remain. She knew that. Wild beasts would soon come and devour their bodies, l^o, that must not be ; therefore she determined to dig a grave in the ground for them, but she had nothing to dig it with except the branch of a tree and both her own hands. With these she worked away until her fingers bled. She found she made so little pi'ogress. tluxt she 52 feared the work would never be ermiplcted. ■jiieu sne tooK water, and washed tlie dead man's face; covered it with fresh green leaves; brought large bonghs of the trees, and laid them over him ; sprinkled dead leaves araongsl the branches; fetched the largest stones she could carry, and placed them over the bodies. and filled up the openings with moss. Whei> she had done all this she thought that thei> tomb might be strong and safe ; but during he; long and arduous labor the night had passed away. The sun arose, and young Helga stood again in all her beauty, with bloody hands, and, for the first time, with tears on her bloom- ing cheeks. During this change it seemed as if two na- tures were wrestling within her ; she trembled, looked around her as if awakening from a pain- ful dream, then seized u|)on the slender branch of a tree near, and held fast by it as if for sup- port ; and in another moment she climbed like a cat up to the top of the tree, and placed her- eelf firmly there. For a whole long day she Bat there like a frightened scpiirrel in the deep loneliness of the forest, where all is still and dead, people say. Dead ! There flew by bll^ terflies chashig each otlier either in sport or \c THE MUD-KLNG^S DAUGHTER. 58 Btrife. There were ant-hills near, each covered with hundreds of little busy laborers, passing in swarms to and fro. In the air danced innu- nzerable gnats; crowds of buzzing flies swept past ; lady-birds, dragon-flies, and other winged ii] sects, floated hither and thither ; earth-worms crept forth from the damp ground; moles crawled about; otherwise it was still — dead^ as people say and think. None remarked Helga, except the jays that flew screeching to the top of the tree where she sat ; they hopped on the branches around her with impudent curiosity, but there was some thing in the glance of her eye that speedily drove them away ; they were none the wiser about her, nor, indeed, was she about herself. When th-e evening approached, and the sun began to sink, the transformation time rendered a change of position* necessary. She shpped down the tree, and, as the last ray of the s"'in faded away, she was again the shrivelled frog, with the webbed-tingered hands ; but her eyes beamed now w^ith a charming expression, which they had not worn in the beautiful form ; they were the mildest, sweetest, girlish eyes that glanced from behind the mask of a frog — they bore witness to the deeply-thuiking 54 THE MUD-KING'S DAUGHTEK. luiman mmd, the deeply-feeling human heart ; and these lovely eyes burst mto tears — tears ol unfeigned sorrow. Close to the lately raised grave lay the crost of green boughs that had been tied together — the last work of him who was now dead and gone. Ilelga took it up, and the thought pre- sented itself to lier that it would be well to place it amidst the stones, above him and the slaughtered horse. With the sad remem- brances thus awakened, her tears flowed faster ; and in the fuhiess of her heart she scratched the same sign in the earth round the grave — it would be a fence that would decorate it so well. And just as she was forming, wdth both of her hands, the figure of the cross, her magic disguise fell off like a torn glove ; and when she had washed herself in the clear water ot the fountain near, and m amazement looked at her delicate w^hite hands, she made the sign ol the cross between herself and the dead pi'iest ; then her lips moved, then her tongue was loosened ; and that name which so often, dm*- ing the ride through the forest, she had heai'd spoken and chanted, became audible from her mouth — she exclaimed: "Jesus Christ I" When the frog's skin had fallen otf she was 5S again tlie beautiful maiden ; but ber bead drooped beavily, ber limbs seemed to need repose — sbe slept. Her sleep was only a short one, bowever ; sbe awoke about midnigbt, and before ber stood tlie dead horse full of life ; its eyes glittered and liglit seemed to proceed from tbe wound in its neck. Close to it tbe dead Christian priest shewed biraself — "more beautifid than Bal- dur," tbe Yiking's wife would have said ; and yet be came as a flash of fire. There was an earnestness in bis large, mild eyes, a searching, penetrating look — grave, almost stern — that thrilled the young prose- lyte to tbe utmost depths of ber heart. Helga trembled before him ; and her memory awoke as if with the power it world exercise on the great day of doom. All tbe kindness that bad been bestowed on her, every affectionate word that bad been said to her, came back to her mind with an impression deeper than they had erer before made. Sbe understood that it was love that, dm-ing the days of trial here, had supported her — those days of trial in which the offspring of a being with a soul, and a form of mud, had wi'ithed and stmggled. She under* Ptood that she had only followed tbe prompt 56 nigs of her own disposition, and done notliing to help herself. All had \)een bestowed on her — all had been ordained for lier. She bowed herself in lovvlj humility and slianie before Ilim who must be able to read every thought of the heart ; and at that moment she felt as ii a purifying flame darted through her — a light from the Holy Spirit. " Daughter of the dust !" said the Christian priest, " from dust, from earth hast tliou arisen — from earth shalt thou again arise ! A ray from God's in^dsible sun shall stream on thee. No soul shall be lost. But far off is the time when life takes flight into eternity. I come from the land of the dead. Thou also shalt once pass through the dark valley into yon lofty realms of brightness, where grace and per- fection dwell. I shall not guide thee now to Hedeby for Christian baptism. First must thou. dis})erse the slimy surface over the deep morass, draw up the living root of thy life and thy cradle, and perform thy appointed task, ero thou darest to seek the holy rite." And he lifted her up on the horse, and gave her a golden censer like those she liad formerly Been at the Yiking's castle; and strong waa the perfmne which issued frc m it. The open 57 wound on tlie forehead of the murdered man shone like a diadem of brilliants. He took the cross fi'om the grave, and raised it high abov him; then away they went through the air, away over the rustling woods, away over the mountains whei^e the giant heroes are buried, sitting on the slaughtered steed. Still onward the phantom forms pursued their way ; and in the clear mooulight glittered the gold circlet round their trows, and the mantle Huttered in the breeze. The magic dragon, who was watch- ing over his treasures, raised his head and gazed at them. The hill-dwarfs peeped out from their mountain recesses and plough-furrows. There were swarms of them, with red, blue, and green lights, that looked like the numer- ous sparks in the ashes of newdy-burned paper. Away over forest and heath, over limpid streams and stagnant pools, they hastened to- wards the *' wild morass," and over it they flew in wide circles. The Christian priest held aloft the cross, which looked as dazzling as bm-nished gold, and as he did so he chanted the mass hymns. Little Helga sang with him as a child follows its mother's song. She swung the cen- ser about as if before the altar, and there came a perfume so strong, so powerful in its ciTect, 58 THE mud-king's DACGnTEB. ^ that it caused the reeds and sedges to blossom every sprout shot up from the dee]) bottom—- every thing that had life raised itself up ; and with the rest arose a mass of water-lilies, whicl» looked like a carpet of embroidered flowers Upon it lay a sleeping female, young and beau tiful. Helga thought she beheld herself mir- rored in the calm water ; but it was her mother whom she saw — the mud-king's wife — the prin- cess from the banks of the Nile. The dead Christian priest prayed that the sleeper might be lifted upon the horse. At fii'st the latter sank under the additional bur- den, as if its body were but a winding-sheet fluttering in the wind ; but the sign of the cross gave strength to the airy phantom, and all three rode on it to the solid ground. Then crowed. the cock at the Yiking's castle, and the apparitions seemed to disappear in a aiist, which was wafted away by the wind ; but the mother and daughter stood together " Is that m^^self I behold in the deep water V exclaimed the mother. "Is that myself I see on the shining sur face ?" said the daughter. And they approached each other till form met form in a warm embrace, and wildly the THE MUD-KENG's DAUGHTER. 69 mother's heart beat when she perceived the truth. " Mj child ! my heart's own flower ! my lo- tus from the watery deep !" And she encircled her daughter with hei arm, and wept. Her tears caused a new sensa- tion to Helga — they were the baptism of love for her. " I came hither in the magic disguise of a swan, and I threw it off," said the mother. " I sank through the swaying mire deep into the mud of the morass, which, like a wall, closed around me ; but soon I perceived that I was in a fresher stream — some power drew me deeper and still deeper down. I felt my eyelids heavy with sleep — I slumbered and I dreamed. I thought that I was again in the interior of the Eg}^tian pyramid, but before me still stood the heaving alder trunk that had so terrified me on the surface of the morass. I saw the cracks in the bark, and they chariged their ap pearance, and became hieroglyphics. It was the mummy's coffin I was looking at ; it burst open, and out issued fi-om it the monarch of a thousand years ago — the mummy form, black as pitch, dark and shining as a wood- snail, or as that thick slimy mud. It was the iniid-kin^, 60 THE mod-king's DAUGHTER. or the mummy of the pji-amids ; I knew not which. He threw his arms around me, and I felt as if I were dying. I only felt that I was alive again when I found something warm on my breast, and there a little bird was flapping with its wings, twittering and singing. It flew from my breast high up in the dark, heavy space ; but a long green string bound it still to me. I heard and I comprehended its ton en and its longing : ' Freedom ! Sunshine ! To the father !' Then I thought of my father iu my distant home, that dear sunny land — my life, my affection — and I loosened the cord, and let it flutter away home to my father. Since that hour I have not dreamed. I have slept a long, dark, heavy sleep until now, when the strange sounds and perfume awoke me and set me free." That green tie between the mother's heart and the bird's wings, where now did it flutter t what now had become of it ? The stork alone had seen it. The cord was the green stem; the knot was the shining flower- -the cradle for that child who now had grown up in beauty, and again rested near her mother's heart. And as they stood there embracing each othei the stork-father flew in circles round them, hag THE MUI>-K1XG's DALGHTEE. 61 tened back to liis nest, took from it tlie magic feather disguises that had been hidden away for so many years, cast one down before each oi hem, and then joined them, as they raised them elves from the ground like two white swans. " Let ns now have some chat," said the stork father, " now we understand each other's lan- guage, even though one bird's beak is not ex- actly made after the pattern of another's. It is most fortunate that vou came to-nio^ht: ta morrow we should all have been away — the mother, the young ones, and myself. We are off to the south. Look at me ! I am an old friend from the country where the Nile flows ; and so is the mother, though there is more kindness in her heart than in her tongue. She always believed that the princess would make her escape. The young ones and I brought these swan garbs up here. "Well, how glad 1 am, and how fortunate it is that I am here Btill ! At dawn of daj we shall take our de- parture — a large party of storks. We shall fly foremost, and if jou will follow us jou will not miss the way. The young ones and mysell will have an eye to you." "And the lotus-flower 1 was to liave brought," said the Egyptian princess ; " it shiil] 62 THE mud-king's DALX>11TEB. go witliin the swan disj^uise, by my side, and 1 shall have my heart's darling with me. Then liomewards — liomewards !" Tlien Helga said that she could not leave the Danish land until she had once more seen hei foster-mother, the Viking's excellent wife. Tc Helga's thoughts arose every pleasing recollec- tion, every kind word, even every tear her adopted mother had shed on her account ; and, at that moment, she felt that she almost loved that mother best. " Yes, we must go to the Viking's castle," said the stork; "there my young ones and their mother await me. How they will stare ! The mother does not speak much ; but, though she is rather abrupt, she means well. I will presently make a little noise, that she maj- know we are coming." And he clattered with his bill as he and the swans flew close to the Yikino-'s castle. o Witliin in it all were lying in deep sleep. The Yiking's wife had retired late to rest : she lay in anxious thought about little Helga, who now for full three days and nights had disap peared along with the Christian priest : she had probably assisted him in his escape, for it was her horse that was missing from the stablea 6S By what power had all this been accomplished ? The Yiking's wife thought upon the wondrous works she had heard had been performed by the immaculate Christ, and by those who be- lieved on Ilim and followed Him. Her chang- ing thoughts assumed the shapes of life in her dreams ; she fancied she was still awake, lost in deep reflection ; she imagined that a storm arose — that she heard the sea roaring in the east and in the west, the waves dashing from the Kattegat and the North Sea ; the hideous 6eq)ents which encircled the earth in the depths of the ocean struggling in deadly com- bat. It was the night of the gods — Ragnakok, as the heathens called the last hour, when all Bhould be changed, even the high gods them- Belves. The reverberating horn sounded, and forth, over the rainbow,* rode the gods, clad in Bteel, to fight the final battle ; before them flew the winged Yalkyries, and the rear was brought up by the shades of the dead giant-wamors ; the whole atmosphere around them was illumi- nated by the northern lights, but darkness con- quered all — it was an awful horn* ! * Tlie Bridge of Heaven in tlie fables of the Scandinavian mythology. — Trans, 64 And near the terrified Viking's wife sat upon the floor little Helga in the ugly disguise of the frog ; and she shivered and worked her way up to her foster-mother, who took her in her lap, and, disgusting as she was in that form, loving- ly caressed her. The air w^as filled with the sounds of the clashing of swords, the blows of clubs, the wl.lzzing of arrows, like a violent hailstorm. The time was come when heaven and earth should be destroyed, the stars should fall, and all be swallowed up below in Surtur's fire ; but a new earth and a new heaven she knew were to come; the corn was to wave where the sea now rolled over the golden sands; the unknown God at length reigned; and to him ascended Baldur, the mild, the lov- able, released from the kingdom of death. He came ; and the Yiking's wife beheld him : she recognized his countenance: it was that of the captive Christian priest. "Immaculate Christ !" she cried aloud ; and whilst uttering tliis holy name she impressed a kiss upon the ugly brow of the frog-child. Then fell the magic disguise, and Helga stood before her in all her radiant beauty, gentle as she had never looked before, and with speaking eyes. She kissed her foster-mother's hands, blessed her foi 65 all the care and kindness which she, in the days of distress and trial, had lavished upon hta* thanked her for the thoughts with which she )ad inspired her mind — thanked her for men- tioning that name which she now repeated, " Immaculate Christ !" and then lifting herselt up in the suddenly adopted shape of a graceful swan, little Helga spread her wings widely out with the rustling sound of a flock of birds of passage on the wing, and in another moment she was gone. The Yiking's wife awoke, and on the outside of her casement were to be heard the same rustling and flapping of wings. It was the time, she knew, when the storks generally took their departure ; it was them she heard. She mshed to see them once more before their jour- ney to the south, and bid them farewell. She got up, went out on the balcony, and then she saw, on the roof of an adjoining outhouse, Btork upon stork, while all around the place, above the highest trees, flew crowds of them, vvheeling in large circles ; but below, on the brink of the well, where little Helga had but BO lately often sat, and frightened lier with her wild actions, sat now two swans, looking up at her with expressive eyes; and she remen' f>6 THE MUD-KING'S DAUGHTER. bered her dream, which seemed to her ahnost & reality. She tliought of Helga in the appear- ance of a swan ; she thought of the Christian priest, and felt a strange gladness in her heart The swans fluttered their wings and bowed their necks, as if they were saluting her ; and the Yiking's mfe opened her arms, as if she imderstood them, and smiled amidst her teara and manifold thoughts Then, with a clattering of bills and a noise of wings, the storks all turned towards the south to commence their long journey. "We will not wait any longer for the swans," said the stork-mother. "If they choose to go with us, they must come at once ; we cannot be lingering here till the plovers begin their fliglit. It is pleasant to travel as we do in a family party, not like the chaffinches and strutting cocks. Among their species the males fly by themselves, and the females by themselves: that, to say the least of it, is not at all seemly. "VYliat a miserable sound tlie troke of the swans' wings has con .pared with ours !" *' Every one flies in his own way," said tLe stork-father. " Swans fly slantingly, cranes in ti'iaiigles, and plovers in 6erj)entine windings." THE MUD-KENGS DAUGHTER. 67 " !N'ame not serpents or snakes when we arn about to flj up yonder," said the stork-mother. " It will only make the young ones long for a Bort of food which they can't get just now." " Ai*e these the high hills, beneath yonder, of which I have heard ?" asked Helga, in the disguise of a swan. " These are thunder-clouds driving under us," replied her mother. " What are these white clouds that seem so stationary ?" asked Helga. " These are the mountains covered with everlasting snow that thou seest," said her mother ; and they flew over the Alps towards the blue Mediterranean. " There is Africa ! there is Egypt I" cried in joyful accents, under ]ier swan disguise, the daughter of the Nile, as high up in the air she descried, like a whitish-yellow billow-shaped streak, her native soiL The storks also saw it, and quickened their flight. " I smell the mad of tho Nile and the wet frogs," efvclahned the stork-mother. " It makes my mouth water. Yes, now ye shall have nice thincrs to eat, and je shall see the marabout 68 ^ the ib]s, and the crane : tliej are all reU/ed to our family, but are not nearly so handsome as we are. They think a great deal, however, oi themselves, particularly the ibis : he has been spoiled by the Egyj)tians, who make a mummy of him, and stuff him with aromatic herbs. I would rather be stuffed with living frogs ; and that is what ye would all like also, and what ye shall be. Better a good dinner when one is living, than to be made a grand show of when one is dead. That is what I think, and I know I am right." " The storks have returned," was told in the splendid house on the banks of the Nile, where, within the open hall, upon soft cushions, cov- ered with a leopard's skin, the king lay, nei- ther living nor dead, hoping for the lotus- flower from the deep morass of the north. His kindred and his attendants were standing aroimd him. And into the hall flew two magnificent white ifwans — they had arrived with the storks. They cast off the dazzling magic feather garbs, and there stood two beautiful women, as like each other as two drops of water. They leaned over the pallid, faded old man; they thi*ew back their long hair; and, as little Helga bowed THE MUD-KLNG's DAUGHTER. 61) over lier grandfather, his cheeks flushed, his eyes sparkled, life returned to his stiiicned limhs. The old man rose hale and hearty ; liii* daughter and his grand-daughter pressed him i i their arms, as if in a glad morning sahitatioi after a long heavy dream. And there was joy throughout the palace, and in the storks' nest also ; but there the joy was principally for the good food, the swarms of nice frogs; and whilst the learned noted do'\\Ti in haste, and very carelessly, the history of the two princesses and of the lotus-flower as an important event, and a blessing to the royal house, and to the country in general, the old storks related the history in theu' own way to their own family ; but not until they had all eaten enough, else these would have had other things to think of than listening to any story. "jSTow thou wilt be somebody," whispered the stork-mother ; " it is only reasonable to expect that." " Oh ! what should / be T said the stork father. "And what have / done? JS'oth ing!" " Thou hast done more than all the others put together. Without thee and the young 70 THE MLD-K]JSO'S DAUGllTKB. ones the two princesses would neyer have seeL Egypt again, or cured the old man. Thou will be nothing ! Thon shouldst, at the very least, be a]>pointed court doctor, and have a titla bestowed on thee, which our young ones would inherit, and their little ones after them. Thou dost look already exactly like an Egyptian doctor in my eyes." The learned and the wise lectured upon " the fundamental notion," as they called it, which pervaded the whole tissue of events. " Love bestows life." Then they expounded their meaning in this manner : " The warm sunbeam was the Egyptian princess ; she descended to the mud-king, and from their meeting sprang a flower — " " I cannot exactly repeat the words," said the stork-father, who had been listening to the discussion from the roof, and was now telling in his nest what he had heard. " What they said was not easy of comprehension, but it was 80 exceedingly wise that they were immediate- y rewarded with rank and marks of distinc- tion. Even the prince's head cook got a hand- some present — that was, doubtless, for having prepared the repast." " And what didst thou get ?" asked the 71 Btork-inotlier. '* Tliej had no right to over- look the most important actor in the affair, and that was thjsei£ The learned only bab- bled about the n?atter. But so it is always." Late at night, when the now happy house- hold reposed in peaceful slumbers, there waa one who was still awake ; and that was not the stork-father, although he was standing upon his nest on one leg, and dozing like a sentry. !N'o ; Uttle Helga was awake, leaning over the bal- cony, and gazing thi'ough the clear air at the large blazing stars, larger and brighter than she had ever seen them in the north, and yet the sam^ She was thinking upon the Yiking's wife near " the wild morass " — upon her foster- mother's mild eyes — upon the tears she had shed over the poor frog-child, who was now standing under the light of the glorious stars, on the banks of the ]S^ile, in the soft spring air. She thought of the love in the heathen woman's breast — the love she had shown towards an unfortunate being, who in human form was as vicious as a wild beast, and in the form of a oxious animal was horrible to look upon or to touch. She gazed at the glittering stars, and thought of the shining cu'cle on the brow of the dead priest, when tiiej flew over the forest 72 THE mub-king's datjghtek. and the mortiss. Tones seemed again to sound on her ears — words she had heard spoken when they rode together, and she sat like an evil spirit there- — words about the great source oi love, the highest love, that which included all races and all generations. Yes, what was not bestowed, won, obtained? Helga's thoughts embraced by day, by night, the whole of her good fortune ; slie stood contemplating it like a child who turns precipitately from the giver to the beautiful gifts; she passed on to the increasing happmess which might come, and would come. Higher and higher rose he-i' thoughts, till she so lost herself in the dreams of future bliss that she forgot the Giver of all good. It was the superabundance of youthful spirits which caused her imagination to take so bold a fliglit. Her eyes were flashing with her thoughts, when suddenly a loud noise in the court beneath recalled her to mundane objects. She saw there two enormous ostriches running angrily round in a narrow circle. She had lever before seen these large heavy birds, who ooked as if their wings were clipped ; and when she asked what had happened to them, she heard for the first time the Egyptian legend about the ostj-ich- THE mqd-kjng's daughtee. 73 Its race had once been beautiful, its wing3 broad and strong. Then one evening the largest forest birds said to it, " Brother, shall we flj to-morrow, God willing, to the river, a}id drink ?" And the ostrich answered, " Yes I will." At dawn they flew away, first up towards the snn, higher and higher, the ostricli far before the others. It flew on in its pride up towards the light ; it relied upon its own strength, not upon tlie Giver of that strength ; it did not say, " God willing." Then the avenging angel drew aside the veil from the streaming flames, and in that moment the bii'd's wings were burnt, and he sank in wretchedness to the earth. Neither he nor his species were ever afterwards able to raise them- selves up in the air. They fly timidly — hurry along in a narrow space ; they are a warning to mankind in all our thoughts and all our enterprises to say, " God willing." And Helga humbly bowed her head, looked at the ostriches rushing past, saw their surprise and theii' simple joy at the sight of their own lai'ge shadows on the white wall, and more serious thoughts took possession of her mind, adding to her present happiness — inspiring brighter hopes for the future. What was jet 74 THE MUD-KING'8 DAUOIITER. to happen ? Tlie best for her, " God will ing." In the early spring, when the storks were ^bout to go north again, Helga took from her arm a golden bracelet, scratched her name upon it, beckoned to the stork-father, hung the gold band round his neck, and bade him carry it to the Viking's wife, who would tliereby know that her adopted daughter lived, was happy, and remembered her. " It is heavy to carry," thought the stork, when it was hung round his neck ; " but gold and honor must not be flung away upon the high road. The stork brings luck — they must admit that up yonder." " Thou layest gold, and I lay eggs," said the Btork-mother ; " but thou layest only once, and I lay every year. But neither of us gets any thanks, which is very vexatious." " One knows, however, that one has done one's duty," said the stork-father. " But that can't be hung up to be seen and .auded ; and if it could be, fine words butter no parsnips." So they flew away. The little nightingale that sang upon the 75 taraarind-tree would also soon be going north, up 3^onder near "the wild morass." Helga l.iad often heard it — she would send a message by it ; for, since she had floAvn in the magical disgidse of the swan, she had often spoken to the storks and the swallows. The nightingale would therefore understand her, and she prayed it to fly to the beech wood upon the Jutland peninsula, where the tomb of stone and branches had been erected. She asked it to beg all the little bii'ds to protect the sacred spot, and frequently to sing over it. And the nightingale fle'sv away, and time flew also. And the eagle stood upon a pyramid, and looked in the autumn on a stately procession with richly-laden camels, with armed and splendidly equipped men on snorting Arabian horses shining white like silver, with red trem- bling nostrils, with long thick manes hanging down to their slender legs. Rich guests — a oyal Arabian prince, handsome as a prince should be — approached the gorgeous palace where the storks' nests stood empty. Those ^ho dwelt in these nests were away in the far aorth, but they were soon to return ; and they 76 rfiE snjD-KrN"G'& daughter. aiTJved on tlie veiy day that was most marked by joy and festivities. It was a wedding least • and tlie beautiful Helga, clad in silli and jew els, was the bride. The bridegroom was th yoimg prince from Arabia. They sat at th upper end of the table, between her mother and grandfather. But she looked not at the bridegroom's bronzed and manly cheek, where the dark beard curled. She looked not at his black eyes, so full of fire, that were fastened upon her. She gazed outwards upon the bright twinkling stars that glittered far away in the heavens. Then a loud rustling of strong wings was heard in the air. The storks had come back ; and the old pair, fatigued as they were after their journey, and much in need of rest, flew immediately down to the rails of the verandah, for they knew what festival was going on. They had heard already at the frontiers that Helga had had them painted upon the wall, introdu • oing them int^ her own history. " It was a kiud thought of hers," said tho stork-father. "It is very little," said the stork-mother " She could hardly have done less." 77 And when Helga saw tliem slie rose, and went out into the verandah to stroke iheir backs. The old couple bowed then* necks, and the youngest little ones felt themselves mnch onored bj being so well received. And Helga looked up towards the shining stars, that glittered more and more brilliantly ; and between them and her she beheld in the air a transparent form. It floated nearer to her. It was the dead Christian priest, who had also come to her bridal solemnity — come fi'om the kingdom of heaven. " The glory and beauty up yonder far exceed all that is known on earth," he said. And Helga pleaded softly, earnestly, thai but for one moment she might be allowed to ascend up thither, and to cast one single glance on those heavenly scenes. Then he raised her amidst splendor and magnificence, and a stream of delicious music. It was not around her only that all seemed to be brightness and music, but the hght seemed to stream in her sold, and the sweet tones to be echoed there. Words cannot describe what Bhe felt. " We must now return," he said : " thou wilt be missed." 78 '* Only one more glance !" slie entreated " Only one short minute !" "We must return to earth — the guests are all departing." *' But one more glance — ^the last !" And Helga stood as^ain in the verandah, but all the torches outside v. re extinguished ; all the light in the bridal saloon was gone ; the storks were gone ; no guests were to be seen — no bridegroom. All had vanished in those three short minutes. Then Helga felt anxious. She wandered tlirough the vast empty halls — there slept for- eign soldiers. She opened the side door which led to her own chambers, and, as she fan- cied she was entering them, she found herself in the garden: it had n*ot stood there. Eed streaks crossed the skies ; it was the dawn of day. Only three minutes in heaven, and a whole night on earth had passed away. Then she perceived the storks. She called to them, spoke their language, and the old Btork turned his head towards her, listened, and drew near. "Thou dost speak oui' language," said he. " What wouldst thou ? Whence com est thou, thou foreign maiden ?" THE mud-king's l»AUGHTEE. 79 " It is I — it is Helga ! Dost thou not kno^v ine ? Three minutes ago we were talking to- ■aether in the verandah." " That is a mistake," said the stork. " Thou must have dreamt this." " No, no," she said, and reminded him of the Viking's castle, " the wild morass," the journey thence. Then the old stork winked with his eyes. " That is a very old stoiy ; I have heard it from my great-great-grandmother's time. Yes, truly there was once in Egypt a princess from the Danish land ; but she disappeared on the evening of her wedding, many hundred years ago, and was never seen again. Thou canst read that thyself upon the monument in the garden, upon which are sculptured both swans and storks, and above it stands one like thyself- in the white marble." And so it was. Helga saw, comprehended it all, and sank on her knees. The sun burst forth in all its morning splen- dor, and as, in former days, with its first raya fell the frog disguise, and the lovely form be- came visible ; so now, in the baptism of light, arose a form of celestial beauty, purer than the air, as if in a veil of radiance to the Father 80 THE MDD-KTNG S DAUQHTEB. above. The body sank into dust, and where Bhe had stood lay a faded lotus-flower ! "Well, this is a new fiu ale to the story,'' Baid the stork-father, ' vr ^ ch I by no means ♦xpected; but I am quite atisfied with it." . " I wonder what the young ones will say to it ?" replied the stork-mother. "Ah! that, indeed, is of the most cons© tjuence,'* THE LAST PEARL E are in a rich, a happy house; aD are cheerful and full of joj, master, sei-vants, and friends of the family; for on this day an heir, a son, liac been born, and mother and child were doing exceedingly well. The burning lamp in the bedcham- ber had been partly shaded, and the windows were guarded by heavy curtains of some costly silken fabric. The carpet was thick, and soft as a mossy lawn, and every thing invited to slimiber — was charmingly suggestive of repose ■ — and the nurse found that, for she slept ; and here she might sleep, for every thing was good and blessed. The guardian spirit of the house leaned against the head of the bed ; over the cliild at the mother's breast there spread as it were a net of shining stars in endless number, and each star was a pearl of happiness. AH the good stars of life had brought their gifts to the 82 TUE LAST PEAilL. uew-born one; here sparkled health, wealth, fortune, and love — in short, every thmg tha man can wish for on earth. " Every thing has been presented here 1" said the guardian spirit. "JS^o, not every thing," said a voice neai liim, the voice of the child's good angel, " One fairy has not yet brought her gift ; bu''. she w ill do so some day, even if years should elapse lirst, she will bring her gift; the lasi pearl is yet wanting." " Wanting ! here nothing may be wanting, and if it should be the case, let me go and seek the powerful fairy ; let us betake oui'selves tc her!" " She comes ! she will come some day un- sought! Her pearl may not be wanting; it must be there, so that the complete crown may be won." "Where is she to be found? Where does she dwell ? Tell it me, and I will procure the pearl." " You will do that ?" said the good angel oi the child. "I will lead you to her directly, wherever she may be. She has no abidiiig place — sometimes she rules in the emperor's palace, sometimes you will find her in the peas- I THE LAST PEARL. 83 ftiit's humble cot ; slie goes by no person with- out leaving a trace ; she brings two gifts to all ; be it a world or a trifle ! To this child also she must come. Y'ou think the time is equally long, but not equally profitable. Come, let us go for this pearl, the last pearl in all thi? wealth." And hand in hand they floated towards the spot where the fairy was now lingering. It was a great house with dark windows, and empty rooms, and a peculiar stillness reigned therein ; a whole row of windows had been opened, so that the rough air could penetrate at its pleasure ; the long, white, hanging cur- tains moved to and fro in the cm-rent of wind. In the middle of the room was placed an open coflin, and in this cofiin lay the corpse of a woman, still in the bloom of youth, and very beautiful. Fresh roses were scattered over her, so that only the delicate folded hands, and the noble face, glorified in death by the solemn look of conseci*ation and entrance to the bettei world, were visible. Around the coffin stood the husband and the children, a whole troop; the youngest child rested on the father's ann, and all bade their mother the last fareu-ell* the husband kissed S-i THE LAST PEAKL. her liand, the hand which now was as a with ered leaf; but which a short time ago had been working and striving in dih'gent love for them all. Tears of sorrow rolled over their cheeks, and fell in heavy drops to the floor; but not a word was spoken. The silence which reigned here expressed a world of grief. With silent footsteps and with many a sob, they quitted the room. A burning light stands in the room, and the long red wick peers out high above the flame, that flickers in the current of air. Strange men come in, and lay the lid on the coffin over the dead one, and drive the nails firmly in, and the blows of the hammer resound through the house, and echo in the hearts that are bleeding. " "Whither art thou leading me ?" asked the guardian spirit. " Here dwells no fairy whoso pearl might be counted amongst the best gifts for life!" " Here she lingers ; here in this sacred hom*.'^ Baid the angel, and pointed to a corner of th room ; and there where in her lifetime th mother had taken her seat amid flowers and ictures; there from wlience, like the benefi cent fairy of the house, she had greeted hus- band, children, and friends; from wlience, like THE I A.ST PEAEL. bo tlie sunbeams, she had spread joy and cheerful- ness, and been the centre and the heart of all there sat a strange woman, clad in long gar- ments, it was "the Chastened Heart/"' now m'lSr tress and mother here in the dead ladj's place k hot tear rolled down into her lap, and formed itself into a pearl glowing with all the colors oi the rainbow ; the angel seized it, and the pearl shone like a star of sevenfold radiance. The "oearl of Chastening, the last, which must not be wanting I it heightens the lustre and the meaning of the other pearls. Do you see the sheen of the rainbow — of the bow that unites heaven and earth ! A bridge has been built between this world and the heaven be- yond. Through the earthly night we gaze up- ward to the stars, looking for perfection. Con- template it, the pearl of Chastening, for it hides within itself the wings that shall carry us to ihs better wo^^rS 8 THE METAL PIQ. J) N the city of Florence, not fai from the Piazza del Granditca, there runs a lit- tle cross-street. I think it is called Porta Posa. In this street, in front of a kind of market-hall where vegetables are sold, there lies a pig artistically fashioned of metal. The fresh clear water pours from the jaws of the creature, which has become a blackish- green from age ; only the snout shines as if it had ])een polished ; and indeed it has been, by many hundreds of children and lazzaroni, who seize it with their hands, and place their mouths close to the mouth of the animal, to drink. It is a perfect picture to see the well-shaped crea- ture clasped by a half-naked boy, who lays his red lips against its jaws. Every one who comes to Florence can easily Knd the place ; he need only ask the first beg- gar lie meets for the metal pig, and he will find it. It was late on a wmter evening. The moun- THE METAX TIG. 87 tanis were covered with snow ; but tlie moon fihone, and moonlight in Italy is just as good aa the light of a murky northern T\dnter's day ; nay, it is better, for the au' shines and lifts u up, while in the north the cold gray leaden cov ering seems to press us downwards to the eartli, —the cold damp earth, which will once press down our coflBn. In the garden of the grand duke's palace, under a penthouse roof, where a thousand roses bloom in winter, a little ragged boy had been sitting all day long, a boy who might serve as a type of Italy, pretty and smiling, and yet suf- feiing. He was hungry and thirsty, but no one gave him any thing ; and when it became dark, and the garden was to be closed, the por- ter turned him out. Long he stood musing on the bridge that spans the Amo, and looked at the stars, whose Hght glittered in the water be- tween him and the splendid marble bridge Delia Tr^initd, He took the way towards the metal pig, hali knelt down, clasped his arms round it, put his mouth against its shining snout, and drank the fresh water in deep draughts. Close by lay a few leaves of salad and one or two chestnuts ; these were his supper. Ko one was in the 88 THE METAL PIG street but himself; it belonged to h'u i alone, and he boldly sat down on the pig's back, bent forward, so that his curly head rested on the head of the animal, and before he was aware he fell asleep. It was midnight. The Metal Pig stirred and he heard it say quite distinctly, "You lit- tle boy, hold tight, for now I am going to run," and away it ran with him. This was a wonder- ful ride. First they got to the Piazza deb Granduca^ and the metal horse which carries! the duke's statue neighed aloud ; the painted coats-of-arms on the old council-horse looked like transparent pictures ; and Michael Angelo'a " David" swung his sling : there was a strange life stirring among them. The metal groups representing persons, and the rape of the Sa- bines, stood there as if they were alive : a cry of mortal fear escaped them, and resounded over the splendid square. By the Palazzo degU Uffizi, in the arcade where the nobility assemble for the Carnival amusements, the metal pig stopped. "Hold tight," said the creature, " for now we ai'e go- mg up-stairs." The little boy spoke not a word, for he was half fidghtened, half delighted, l^hey came into a long gallery where the boy I THE METAL PIG. 89 had already been. Tlie walls shone with pic- tures ; here stood statues and busts, all in the most chaiTQing light, as if it had been broad day : but the most beautiful of all was wheu the door of a side-room opened ; the little boy could remember the splendor that was there, but on this night every thing shone in the most glorious colors. Here stood a beautiful woman, as radiant in beauty as nature and the greatest master ()t sculpture could make her; she moved her graceful limbs, dolphins sprang at her feet, and immortality shone out of her eyes. The world calls her the Yenus de Medici. By her side are statues in which the spirit of life has been breathed into the stoite ; they are handsome unclothed men — one was sharpening a sword, and was called the grinder ; the wrestling gladi- ators formed another group ; and the sword was sharpened, and they strove for the goddess ol beauty. The boy was dazzled by all this pomj) ; the walls gleamed with bright colors, every thing was life and movement. What splendor, what beauty shone from hall to hall! and the little boy saw every thmg plainly, for the metal pig went step by step 90 THE METAL PIG. from one picture to another, through all tliis scene of magnificence. Each fresh glorj ef- faced the last. One picture only fixed itseli firmly in his soul, especially through the very happy children ' introduced into it; for these the little boy had greeted in the daylight. Many persons pass by this picture with indil ference ; and yet it contains a treasure of po- etry. It represents the Saviour descending into hell. But these are not the damned whom the spectator sees around hun, they are heathen. The Florentine Angiolo Bronzino painted this picture. Most beautifid is the expression on the faces of the children, tJie full confidence that they will get to heaven ; two little beings are already embracing*; and one little one stretches out his hand towards another who stands below him, and points to himself as it he were saying, " I am going to heaven !" The )lder people stand uncertain, hoping, but bow- ing in liumble adoration before the Lord Jesus. The boy's eyes rested longer on this picture 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 lifted up his hands towards the smiling chil dren; then the pig ran away with him, away THE METAL PIG. 91 through the opeu vestibule. "Thanks a-ad blessings to jou, yon dear thing!" said the little boy, and caressed the metal pig, as it sprang down the steps with him." " Thanks and blessings to yourself," replied the metal pig. " I have helped you, and you have helped me, for only with an innocent child on my back do I receive power to run ! Yes, you see I may even step into the rays of the lamp, in front of the picture of the Madouna, only I mayn't go into the church. But from without, when you are with me, I may look in through the open door. Do not get down from my back ; if you do so, I shall lie dead as you see me in the daytime at the Porta RosaP " I will stay with you, my dear creature !" cried the child ; so they went in hot haste through the streets of Florence, out into the place before the church Santa OroGeP The folding-doors flew open and lights gleam- ed out from the altar through the church on the deserted square. A wonderful blaze of light streamed forth from a monument in the left aisle, and a thou- Band moving stars seemed to form a glory round it. A coat of arms shone upon the grave, a red ladder in a blue field seemed to glow like fij-e ; 92 THE MKTAI. PIG. it was the grave of Galilei. The monmneiit ia miadomed, but the red ladder is a significant emblem, as if it were that of art, for here the Avay always leads up a burning ladder, towards heaven. The prophets of mind soar upward towards heaven, like Elias of old. To the right, in the aisle of the church, every statue on the richly carved sarcophagi seemed endowed with life. Here stood Michael An gelo, there Dante with the laui-el wi'eath round his brow, Alfieri and Machiavelli ; for here the great men, the pride of Italy, rest side by side.* It is a glorious church, far more beautiful than the marble cathedi-al of Florence, though not so large. It seemed as if the marble vestments stin-ed, as if the great forms raised their heads higher and looked up, amid song and music, to the * Opposite to the grave of Galilei is the tomb of Michael Angelo. On the monument his bust is displayed, with three figures, representing Sculpture, Painting, and Archi- tecture. Close by is a monument to Dante, whose corpse is interred at Ravenna ; on tliis monument Italy is repre- sented pointing to a colossal statue of the poet, while Po- etry weeps over Lis loss. A few paces further on is Alfi- eri 's monument, adorned with laure], the lyre, and dramatic masks : Italy weeps at his grave. Machiavelli here closes the series of celebrated men. THE METAL PIG. 93 bnglit altar glowing with color, where the \\iiite« clad boys swijig the golden censers ; and the strong fragrance streamed out of the church into tlie open square. The boy stretched forth his hand towards the gleaming light; and in a moment the metal pig resumed his headlong career; he was obliged to cling tightly, and the wind whistled about his ears : he heard the church-door creak on its hinges as it closed ; but at the same mo- ment his senses seemed to desert him — he felt a cold shudder pass over him, and awoke. It was morning ; and he was still sittmg on the metal pig, which stood, where it always stood on the Porta Rosa^ and he had slipped lialf off its back. Fear and trembling filled the soul of the boy at the thought of her whom he called mother, and who had yesterday sent him forth to bring money ; for he had none, and was hmigry and thu'sty. Once more he clasped his arms round the neck of his metal horse, kissed its lips, and nodded farewell to it. Then he wandered aw^ay into one of the narrowest streets where there was scarcely room for a laden ass. A great iron-clamped door stood ajar ; he passed through it, and climbed up a brick stair with dirty walls 94 TUE METAL PIG. and a rope for a balustrade, till he came tu an open gallery hung with rags : from here a flight of stau's led down into the court, where there was a fountain, and great ii'on wii*es led up to the different stories, and many water-bucketa hung side by side, and at times the rollei creaked, and one of the buckets would dance into the air, swaying so that the water splashed out of it down into the courtyard. A second ruinous brick staircase here led upwards : two Eussian sailors were running briskly dowTi, and almost overturned the poor boy. They w^ere going home from their nightly carouse. A large woman, no longer young, followed them. " What do you bring home ?" she asked the boy " Don't be angry," he pleaded. " I received nothing, nothing at all," and he seized the moth* er's dress, and would have kissed it. They went into the little room. I will not describe it, but only say that there stood in it an earthen pot with handles, made for holding fire, and called a marito. This pot she took in her arms, warmed her fingers, and pushed the boy with her elbow. " Certainly you must have brought Fome money," said she. The boy wept, and she struck him with hei foot, so that he cried aloud. THE METAL VIG. 05 " Will you be silent, or I'll break your scream ing head!" and sbe brandished the fire-pot which she held in her liand ; the boy crouched down to the earth witli a scream of terror Then a neighbor stepped in, also with a niariU in her arms. " Felicita," she said, " what are you doing to the child?" " The child is mine," retorted Felicita. " I can murder him if I like, and you, too, Gian- uina," and she SAvung her fire-pot. The other lifted up hers in self-defence, and the two pots clashed together with such fury that fragments, fire, and ashes flew about the room : but at the same moment the boy rushed out at the door, sped across the com-tyard, and fled from the house. The poor child ran till he was quite out of breath : he stopped by the church whose great doors had opened to him the previous night, and went in. Eveiy thing was radiant : the boy knelt down at the first grave on the right hand, the grave of Michael Angelo ; and soon he sobbed aloud. People came and went and Mass was performed ; but no one noticec* the boy, only an elderly citizen stood still looked at him, and then went away like the rest. Ilimger and thirst tormented the child ; he 96 THE METAL PIO. was quite faint and ill, and he crept into a cor ner between the marble monuments, and went to sleep. Towards evening he was awakened by a tug at his sleeve : he started up, and the same citizen stood before him. "Are you ill? Where do you live? Ilave you been here all day ?" were three of the many ■questions the old man asked of liim. He an- swered, and the old man took bim into his little house, close by, in a back street. They came into a glover's workshop, where a woman sat sewing busily. A little white Spitz-dog, so closely shaven that his pink skin could be seen, frisked about on tbe table, and gambolled be- fore the boy. "Innocent souls make acquaintance," said the woman ; and she caressed the boy and the dog. The good people gave the child food and drink, and said he should be permitted to stay the niglit with them; and next day Father Giuseppe would speak to his mother. A little simple bed was assigned to him ; but for him who had often slept on the hard stones it was a royal couch ; and he slept sweetly, and dreamed of the splendid pictures and of the metal pig. Father Giuseppe went out next morning j the poor child was not glad of this, for he knew THE METAL PIG. 97 that the object of the errand was to send him back to his mother. He wept, and kissed the httle merry dog, and the woman nodded ap- provingly at both. What news did Father Giuseppe bring home ile spoke a great deal with his wife, and sh nodded and stroked the boy's cheek. " lie i^ a capital lad !" said she. " He may become an- accomplished glove maker, like you ; and loo]; what delicate fingers he has! Madonna in- tended him for a glove-maker !" And the boy stayed in the house, and the woman herself taught him to sew : he ate well, slept well, and became merry, and began ^o tease Bellissima, as the little dog was called ; bur the woman grew angry at this, and scolded and threatened him with her finger. This touched the boy's heart, and he sat thoughtful in his little chamber. Tliis chamber looked upon the street in which skins were dried ; there were thick bars of iron before his window ; he could not sleep, the metal pig was always present in his thoughts, and suddenly he heard outside a pit-pat. That must be the pig ! He sprang tc the window ; but nothing was to be seen, it h? d passed by already. " Help the gentleman to carry liis box of col 98 THE METAL PIG. ors!" said the woman next morning, to the boy, when their young neighbor the artist passed by carrying a paint-box and a large rolled canvas. The boy took the box and fol- lowed the painter; they betook themselves to tlie gallery, and mounted the same staircase, which he remembered well from the night when he had ridden on the metal pig. He recognized the statues and pictures, the beautiful marble Yenus, and the Yenus that lived in the pic- ture; and again he saw the Madonna, and the Saviour, and St. John They stood still before the picture by Bron- zino, in which Christ is descending into hell, and the children smiled around him, in the sweet expectation of heaven; the poor child smiled too, for he felt as if his heaven were here. " Go home now !" said the painter, when the boy had stood until the other had set up his easel. "May I see you paint?" asked the boy. " May I see you put the picture upon this white ©anvas f " I am not going to paint yet," replied tlie man ; and he brought out a piece of white chalk. His hand moved quickly ; his eye meas* ui'ed the great picture, and though nothing ap THE METAL PIG. 99 pea red but a tliin line, the figure of tlie Saviour stood there, as in the colored pictm-e. "Why don't jon go?" said the paintei And the boy wandered home silently, and seated himself on the table and learned to sew gloves. But all day long his thoughts were in the picture gallery ; and so it came that he prickei^ his fijigers, and was awkward ; but he did not tease Bellissima. When evening came, and when the house-door stood open, he crept out. It was cold but starlight, a bright beautiful evening. Away he went through the already deserted streets, and soon came to the metal pig; he bent down on it, kissed its shining mouth, and seated himself on its back. " Yoi' happy creature," he said : " how I have longed for you ! we must take a ride to-night." The metal pig lay motionless, and the fresh stream gushed forth from its mouth. The little boy sat astride on its back; then something tugged at his clothes. He looked do^^'n, and there was Bellissima, — little smooth-shaven Bel lissima, — barking as if she would have said " Here am I too, why are you sitting there ?" A. fiery dragon could not have terrified the boj so much, as did the little dog in this place wo THE MET AX PIG. Bellissima in the street and not dressed, on tJie old lady called it ! What would be the end of it ? The dog never came out in winter, except/ attired in a little lambskin, wliich had been cut out and made into a coat for her ; it was made to fasten with a red riband round the little dog's neck and body, and was adorned with bows and with bells. The dog almost looked like a little kid, when in winter she got permis- sion to patter out with mistress. Bellissima was outside and not dressed ! what would be the end of it? All his fancies were put to flight ; yet the boy kissed the metal pig once more, and then took Bellissima on his arm; the little thing trembled with cold, therefore the boy ran as fast as he could. " What are you running away with there ?" asked two police-soldiers whom he met, and at whom Bellissima barked. " Where have you stolen that pretty dog ? " they asked, and they took it away from him. " Oh, give it back to me !" cried the boy de spairingly. " If you have not stolen him, yon may say at home that the dog may be sent for from the watch-house," — and they told him where the /^natch-house was, and went away with Bellis«jim ju THE MEl'Ai. PIG. lUj Here was a ternble calamity. The boy did not know wliether he should jump into tlio Aj*no, 01 go home and confess every thinu : ' hey would certainly kill him, he thought. ^ But I will gladly be killed ; then I shall di*i and get to heaven," he reasoned: and he went home, principally with the idea of being killed. ' ^^ The door was locked, he could not reacli the knocker ; no one was in the street, but a stone .ay there, and with this he thundered at the door. " Who is there?" cried somebody from within. "It is I," said he. "Eellissima is gone. Open the door, and then kill me !" There was quite a panic ; Madame wa^^ es- pecially concerned for poor Bellissima. She immediately looked at the wall, where the dog's dress usually hung — and there was the littlo lambskin. " Bellissima in the watch-house I" she cried loud. " You bad boy ! How did you entice her out? She'll be frozen, the poor delicate little thing, among those rough soldiers !" The father was at once dispatched — the woman lamented, and the boy wept. All the inhabitants of the house came together, and 102 THK MKTAL i'Kh among the rest, the painter ; he took the boj between his knees and tpestioned him ; and in broken sentences lie lieard the whole storv »■ about the metal pig and the gallery, which wa certainly rather incomprehensible. The painter consoled the little fellow, and tried to calm the old lady's anger ; but she would not be pacified until the father came in with Bellissima, who had been among the soldiers ; then there was great rejoicing; and the painter caressed the boy, and gave him a handfol of pictures. Oh, those were capital pieces — such funny heads ! — and truly the metal pig was thei-e among them, bodily. Oh, nothing could be more superb ! By means of a few strokes it was made to stand there on the paper, and even the house that stood behind it was sketch- ed in. Oh ! for the abihty to draw and paint ! He who could do this, could conjure up the whole world around him ! On the first leisure moment of the following day, the little fellow seized the pencil, and on tlie back of one of the pictures he attempted to copy the drawing of the metal pig ; — and he succeeded! It was certainly rather crooked, rather up and down, one leg thick and another THE iiETAL no. 103 tlnn , but still it was to be recognized, and ho rejoiced himself at it. The pencil would not quite work as it should do, that he could well observe : on the next day a second metal pig was drawn by the side of the first, and this looked a hundred times better ; the thu'd was already so good, that every one could tell what it was meant for. But the glove-making prospered little, and the orders given in the town were executed but slowly ; for the metal pig had taught him that all pictures may be drawn on paper ; and Flor- ence is a picture-book for any one who chooses to turn over its pages. On the Piazza del Trinitd stands a slender pillar, and upon it the goddess of Justice blindfolded, and with her scales in her hand. Soon she was placed on the paper ; and it was the glove-maker's little boy who placed her there. The collection of pictures increased, but as yet it only contained representations of lifeless objects; when one day Bellissima came gambolling before him. " Stand still !" said he, " then you shall be made beautiful and put into my collection I" But Bellissima would not stand still, she had to be bound fast; her head and tail were tied, and she barked and jumped, and the string had 104 rriE MET AX pig. to be pulled tight ; and tlien the signora «iarac in. •' You wicked boy ! The poor creature 1'^ vas all she could utter; and she pushed llio hoy aside, thrust him away with her foot, for- bade him to enter her house again, and called him a most ungrateful good-for-nothing and a wicked boy ; and then weeping, she kissed her little half-strangled Bellissima. At this very moment the painter came down- stairs, and here is the turning point of the story. In the year 1834 there was an exhibition in the Academy of Arts at Florence. Two pic- tures, placed side by side, collected a number of spectators. The smaller of the two repre- sented a merry little boy who sat drawing, with a little white Spitz-dog, cm-iously shorn, for his model ; but the animal would not stand still, and was therefore bound by a string, fastened to its head and its tail ; there was a truth and life in this picture, that interested every one. The painter was said to be a young Florentine, who had been found in tlie streets in his child- hood, had been brought up by an old glove- maker, and had taught liimself to draw. It was further said that a painter, now become THE METAL PIG. lOc famous, Lad discovered this talent just as tlie boy was to be sent away for tying up the favor- ite little dog of Madame, and using it as a model. The glove-maker s Doy had become a great painter, the picture proved this, and still more the larger picture that stood beside it. Hero was represented only one figure, a handsome boy, clad in rags, asleep in the streets, and leaning against the metal pig in the Porta Rosa street. All the spectators knew the spot. The child's arms rested upon the head of the pig ; the little fellov/ was so fast asleep — the lamp before the pictm-e of the Madonna thi-ew a strong effective light on the pale delicate face of the child — it was a beautiful picture! A great gilt trame surrounded it, and on one cor- ner of the frame a laurel wreath had been hung ; but a black band wound unseen among the green leaves, and a streamer of crape hung down from it; for within the last few daja the young artist had — died I THE MONET PIG, ^^N" the nursery a number of toys lay strewn about. High up, on the ward- robe, stood the money-box, made of clay and purchased of the potter, and it was in the shape of a little pig : of course the pig had a slit in its back ; and this slit had been so enlarged with a knife, that whol© dollar pieces could slip through ; and, indeed, two such had slipped into the box, besides a number of pence. The money-pig was stuffed BO full that it could no longer rattle, and that is the highest point of perfection a money-pig can attain. There it stood upon the cupboard, high and lofty, looking down upon every thing else in the room : it knew very well that what it had in its stomach would have bought all the toys, and that's what we call having self- respect. The others thought of that too, even if they did not exactly express it, for there were many THE MONEY PIG. 107 Other things to speak of. One of the drawers was lialf pulled out, and there lay a great hand- some doll, though she was somewhat old, and her neck had been mended. She looked out and said, " Now we'll play at men and women, for that is always something !" And now there was a general uproar, and even the framed prints on the walls turned round and showed that there was a wrong side to them ; but they did not do it to protest against the proposal. It was late at night ; the moon shone through the window frames and afforded the cheapest light. The game was now to begin, and all. even the children's go-cart, which certainly be- longed to the coarser playthings, were invited to take part in the sport. '• Each one has his own peculiar value !" said the go-cart: ''we cannot all be noblemen J There must be some who do the work, as the saying is." The money-pig was the only one vvho received a written invitation, for he was of high standing, and they were afraid he woidd not accept the verbal message. Indeed, he did ot answer to say whether he would come. Kor did he come ; if he was to take a part, ho must enjoy the sport from his own home : they were to arrange accordingly, and so they did. 106 'J'flK MONEY J'lu The little toy-tlieatre was nov/ put up m i\id; a way that the money-pig could look directly in. They wanted to begin with a comedy ; and af terwards there was to be a tea-party, and a dis- cussion for mental improvement, and with this latter part they began immediately. The rock- ing-horse spoke of training and race ; the go- cart of railways and steam-power, for all this belonged to their profession, and it was quite right they should talk of it. The clock talked politics — ticks — ticks, and knew what was the time of day, though it was whispered he did not go correctly : the bamboo cane stood there, Btift' and proud, for he was conceited about his brass ferule and his silver top, for being thus bound above and below: on the softi lay two worked cushions, pretty and stupid. And now the play began. All sat and looked on, and it was requested the audience should applaud, and crack and stamp according as they w^ere gratified. But the riding-whip said he never cracked for old »)eople, only for young ones who were not yet married. " I crack for every thing," said the cracker ; and these were the thoughts they had while the play went on. The piece was worth- less, but it was well played ; all the characters THE MONEY PIG. 109 turned their painted side to the audience, for they were so made thiat they should only be looked at from that side, and not from the other ; and all played wonderfully well, com^ iiig out quite beyond the lamps, because the wires were a little too long, but that only made them come out the more. The darned doll was quite exhausted with excitement — so thor- oughly exhausted that she burst at the darned place in her neck ; and the money-pig was so enchanted in his way, that he formed the reso- lution to do something for one of the players, and to remember him in his will as the one who should be buried with him in the family vault, when matters were so far advanced. It was true enjoyment ; such true enjoyment that they quite gave up the thoughts of tea, and only carried out the idea of mental recrea- tion. That's what they called playing at men and women, and there was nothing '^Tong in it, for they were only playing ; and each one thought of himself and what the money-pig might tliink; and the money-j^ig thought fui'» thest of all, for he thought of making his will and of his burial. And wJien might this come to pass? Certainly far sooner than was expected. Crack ! it fell down from the cupboard, — feJl oii 110 THE MONEY PIG. tlie ground, and was broken to pieces ; and tbfi pennies hopped and danced in comical style : the little ones turned round like tops, and the bigger ones rolled away, particularly the on great silver dollar, who wanted to go out intc the world. And he came out into the world^ and they all succeeded in doing so ; and the pieces of the money-pig were put into the dust- bin : but the next day a new money-pig was standing on the cupboard; it had not yet a farthing in its stomach, and therefore could not rattle, and in this it was like the other — and that was a beginning — and with that we will make an end THE WICKED PRINCE ^^55^5 HEEE was once a wicked Prince His aim and object was to conquer all the conntries in the world, and tc inspire all men with fear; he went about with fire and sword, and his soldiers trampled down the corn in the fields, and set fire to the peasant's house, so that the red flames licked the leaves from the trees, and the fi'uit hung bm-nt on the black charred branches. With her naked baby in her arms, many a poor mother took refuge behind the still smoking walls of her burnt house; but here even the soldiers sought for their victims, and if they found them it was new food for their demoniac fury : evil spirits could not have raged worse than did these sol- diers ; but the Prince thought their deeds were right, and that it must be so. Every day his power Increased ; his name was feared by all, m 112 THE WICKED PSINCE. and fortune accompanied liim in all his actions Fi'om conquered countries lie brought vast treasures home; in his capital an amount ol wealth was heaped, unequalled in any otJiei place. And he caused gorgeous palaces, church es, and halls to he built, and every one who saw those great buildings and these vast treasures cried out respectfully, " What a great Prince !" They thought not of the misery he had brought upon other lands and cities ; they heard not all the sighs and all the mournings that arose from among the ruins of demolished towns. The Prince looked upon his gold, and upon his mighty buildings, and his thoughts were like those of the crowd, " What a great Prince am I ! But," so his thought ran on, " I must have more, far more ! 'No power may be equal to mine, much less exceed it !" And he made war upon all his neighbors, and overcame them all. The conquered kings he caused to be bound with fetters of gold to his chariot, and tlmrs he drove through the streets of his capital : when he banqueted, those kings were compelled to kneel at his feet, and at the feet of his cour- tiers, and to receive the broken pieces which v*^ere thrown to them from the table. At last the Prince caused his own statue to TiiJ!: WICKED PliUsCE. 113 be set up in the open squares and in the royal palaces, and he even wislied to place it in tlie churches hefore the altars; but here the priests Btood up against him, and said, "Prince, tliou ai-t mighty, but heaven is mightier, and we dare not fulfil thy commands." " Good, then," said the Prince, "^ I will van- quish heaven likewise." And in his pride and impious haughtiness he caused a costly ship to be built, in which he could sail through the air : it was gay and glaring to behold, like the tail of a peacock, and studded and covered with thousands of eyes ; but each eye w^as the muz- zle of a gun. The Prince sat in the midst of the ship, and needed only to press on a s})ring, and a thousand bullets flew out on all sides, while the gun-baiTels were reloaded immedi- ately. Hundreds of eagles w^ere harnessed in front of the ship, and with the speed of an an'ow they flew upwards towards the sun. How deep the earth lay below them ! With its mountains and forests it seemed but a field through which the plough had drawn its fur- fow^s, and along which the green bank rose covered with turf ; soon it appeared only like a flat map with indistinct lines, and at laat it lay completely hidden in mist and cloud. Ever 114r THE AVICKKD PKINCE. higher flew the eagles up into the air : then ono of tlie innumerable angels appeared. The wicked Prince hurled thousands of bullets against him ; but the bullets sprang back from the angel's shining pinions, and fell down like Bommon hailstones ; but a drop of blood, one single drop, fell from one of the white wing- feathers, and this drop fell upon the ship in which the Prince sat, and burnt its w^ay deep into the ship, and weighing like a thousand hundred -weight of lead, dragged down the ship in headlong fall towards the earth ; the strong- est pinions of the eagles broke, the wind roared round the Prince's head, and the clouds aroused — formed from the smoke of burned cities — drew themselves together in threatening shapes like huge sea-crabs, stretching forth their claws and nippers towards him, and piled themselves up in great overshadowing rocks, with crush- ing fragments rolling down them ; and then to fiery dragons, till the Pidnce lay half dead in the ship, which at last was caught with a terri- ble shock in the thick branches of a forest. " I will conquer heaven," said the Prince * I have sworn it, and my will must be done !' and for seven years he caused his men to work at making ships for sailin through the air, and THE WICKED PRINCE. IJo had thunderbolts made of the hardest steel, foi he wished to stonn the fortress of heaven : out of all his dominions he gathered armies together, BO that when they w^ere draw^n up in rank and file they covered a space of several miles. The arniies went on board the ships, and the Prince approached his own vessel ; then there was sent out against him a swarm of gnats, a single little Bwarm of gnats. The swarm buzzed round the Prince, and stung his face and hands ; raging with anger he di'ew his sword, and struck all around him ; but he only struck the empty air, for he could not hit the gnats. Then he commanded his people to bring costly hang- mgs, and to wrap them around him, so that no gnat might further sting him ; and the ser- vants did as he commanded them. But a single gnat had attached itself to the inner side oi the hangings, and crept into the ear of the Prince, and stung him ; it burned like fire, and the poison penetrated to his brain : like a mad- man he tore the hangings from his body and hurled them far aw^ay, tore his clothes and danced about naked before the eyes of his rude, savage soldiers, wlio now jeered at the mad Prince, who wanted to overcome heaven, and who him self was conquered l)y one single little gnat. CHILDREN'S PRATTLE T the rich merchant's there was a chil- dren's party; rich people's children and grand people's children were there. The merchant was a learned man ; he had once gone through the college examination, for his honest father had kept him to this, his father who had at first only been a cattle-dealer, but always an honest and industrious man; the trade had brought money, and the merchant had managed to increase the store. Clever he was, and he had also a heart, but there was less said of his heart than of his money. At the merchant's, grand people went in and out; people of blood, as it is called, and people of intellect, and people who had both of these, and people who had neither. Now there was a children's party there, and children's prattle ; and children speak fi-rmkly from tlie heart. CniLDREJSr'S PEATTLE. 117 A mono: tlie rest there was a beautiful little gir], but the little one was terribly proud: but the servants had taught her that, not her parents, who were far too sensible people. Hei father was a groom of the bedchamber, and that is a very grand office, and she knew it. " I am a child of the bedchamber," she said. Now she might just as well have been a child of the cellar, for nobody can help his birth ; and then she told the other children that slie was " well-born," and said " that no one who was not well-born could get on far in the world ; it was of no use to read and to be indus- trious, if one was not well-born one could not achieve any thing. " " And those whose names end ^^th * sen,' " said she, " they cannot be any thing at all ! One must put one's arms akimbo and make the elbows quite pointed, and keep them at a great distance, these 'sen! sen!'" And she struck out her pretty little arms, and made the elbows quite pointed, to show how it was to be done, and her little arms were very pretty. She was a sweet little girl. But the little daughter of the merchant be- came very angry at this speech, for her father's name was Petersen, and slieknev; tliat tlie name CHILDREN 6 PRATTLE. ended in "sen," and tlierefore she said, od proudly as ever she could — " But my papa can buy a hundred dollars' worth of bon-bons and strew them to the chil- di-en ! Can yom* papa do that ?" " Yes, but my papa," said an author's little daughter, "my papa can put your papa and everybody's papa into the newspaper. All peo- ]>le are afraid of him, my mamma says, for it is my father who rules in the newspaper." And the little maiden looked exceedingly proud, as though she had been a real princess, who is expected to look proud. But outside, at the door which was ajar, stood a poor boy, peeping through the crack ol the door. He was of such lowly station that he was not even allowed to enter the room. He had tm-ned the spit for the cook, and she had allowed him to stand behind the door, and to look at the well-dressed children who were making a merry day within, and for him that was a great deal. " Oh, to be one of them !'■ thought he ; and tlien he heard what was said, which was cer- tainly calculated to make him very unha]> py. " His parents at home had not a penny to spare to buy a newspaper, much less could tliey PEATILE. 119 write one; and what was worst of all, liis father's name, and consequently his own, ended completely in ' sen,' and so he could not turn out well. That was terrible. But after all, ha had been born, and very well born as it seemed to him ; that could not be otherwise." And that is what was done on that evening. Many years have elapsed since then, and m the course of years children become grown-up persons. In the town stood a splendid house ; it wan filled with all kinds of beautifal objects and treasures, and all people wished to see it, even people who dwelt out of town came in to see it. .Which of the children of whom we have told might call this house his own? To know that is very easy. 'No, no ; it is not so very easy. The house belonged to the poor little boy who had stood on that night behind the door, and he had become something great, al though his name ended in " sen," — Thorwald Ben. And the three other children — the children of hlood and of money, and of spiritual pride 1 120 OHH^bREK S PRAITLP:. W^ell, tliey Lad notliing wlievewitli to re])rvay3 spoken tc 122 TWO BE0THER8. them of right and justice, and had cxl ./rted them to hold truth fast, declaring that - » vcas as the countenance of the Almighty in tliia world. The elder of the boys looked rogaish, and enterprising : it was his dehght to read of the forces of nature, of the sun and of the stars ; no fairy tale pleased him so much as these. Oh ! how glorious it must be, he thought, to go out on voyages of discovery, or to find out how the wings of birds could be imitated, and then to fly through the air ! Yes, to find that out would be the right thing ; father was right, and mother was right, truth keeps the world to- gether. The younger brother was quieter, and quite lost himself in books. When he read of Jacob clothing himself in sheepskins to be like Esau^ and to cheat his brother of his birthright, his little fist would clench in anger against the deceiver ; when he read of tyrants, and of all the wickedness and wrong that is in the world, the tears stood in his eyes, and he was quite filled with the thought of the right and truth which must and will at last be triumphant. One evening he already lay in bed ; but the curtains were not yet drawn close, and theliirh* TWO BROTHERS. 123 etreamed in •upon Mm : lie liad talven the book with him to bed, because he wanted to finish the story of Solon. And his thoughts lifted and carried him away marvellously, and it seemed to him that bis bed became a ship, careering onward with swelling sails. Did he dream? or what was happening to him ? It glided onward over the rolling waters and the great ocean of time, and he heard the voice of Solon. In a strange tongue, and yet intelligible to him, he heard the Danish motto, "With law the land is ruled." And the Genius of the human race stood in the humble room, and bent down over the bed, and printed a kiss on the boy's forehead. " Be thou strong in fame, and strong in the battle of life ! With the tnith in thy breast, fly thou towards the land of truth !" The elder brother was not yet in bed ; he stood at tiie v^indow gazing out at the mists that rose from the meadows. They were not elves dancing there, as the old muse had told him ; he knew better ; they were vapors, warm- er than the air, and that consequently mourted. A shooting-star gleamed athwart the sky, and the thoughts of the boy were roused from the 124 TWO BROTHERS. mists of tlie earth to the shining meteor. Th« stars of heaven twinkled, and golden thi-eada seemed to hang from them down upon the earth. "Fly with me," it sang and somided in tho boy's heart, and the mighty genius, swifter than the bird, than the arrow, than any thing that flies with earthly means, carried him aloft to the region w^here rays stretching from star to star bind the heavenly bodies to each other — om* earth revolved in the thin air — the cities on its sm-face seemed quite close together, and through the sphere it sounded : " What is near, what is far, when the mighty genius of mind lifts them up V And again the boy stood at the window and gazed forth, and the younger brother lay in his bed, and their mother called them by their names, "Anders Sandoe" and "Hans Chris- tian!" Denmark knows them — the worV knows ihem — the two brothers Oersted. BY THE ALMSHOUSPJ WINDOW f^^^^f^ EAR the grass-covered rampart wliict L encircles Copenliagen lies a great red y house; balsams and other flowers greet ns from the long rows of win- dows in the house, whose interior k sufficiently poverty-stricken ; and poor and old are the people who inhabit it Tlie building is the Warton Almshouse. Look! at the window there leans an old maid; she plucks the w^ithered leaf from the balsam and looks at the grass-covered rampart, on which many children are playing. What is the old maid thinking of? A whole life-di-ama is unfolding itself before her inward gaze. The poor little children, how happy they are, liow merrily they play and romp together 1 What red cheeks and what angels' eyes ! but they have no shoes nor stockings. They danced on the green rampart, just on the place where, 120 lii' niE ALMHiiv U6E \vrNi:>ow. according to tlie old story, the ground always sank in, and where a sportive frolicsome child bad been lured by means of flowers, toys, and sweetmeats into an open grave ready dug for il, and which was afterwards closed over the child ; — and from that moment, the old story Bays, the ground gave way no longer, the mound remained firm and fast, and was quickly cov- ered with fine green turf. The little people who now play on that spot know nothing of the old tale, else would they fancy they heard the child cryi^.g deep below the earth, and the dew-drops on each blade of grass would be to them tears of woe. JSTor do they know any thing of the Danish king, who here, in the face of the cunning foe, took an oath before all his trembling courtiers, that he would hold out with the citiiiens of his capital, and die here in his nest ; — they knew nothing of the men Avho had fought here, or of the women who from here had drenched with boiling water the ene- my, clad in white, and abiding in the snow to surprise the city. 'Nol the poor little ones are playing with light childish spu-its. Play on, play on, thou little maiden I Soon the years will come — yes, tliose glorious years. The priestly hands have BY THE ALMSHOUSE WINDOW. 127 been laid on the candidates for confine ati on : hand in hand thej walk on the green rampart ; thou hast a white frock on, it has cost thy mother much labor, and jet it is only cu down for thee out of an old and larger dress You will also wear a red shawl ; and what if it hang too far down ? People will only see how large, how very large it is. You are thinking of your dress, and of the Giver of all good ; so glorious is it to wander on the green ram parti And the years roll by ; they have no lack of dark days, but you have your cheerful young spirit, and you have gained a friend, you know not how. You met, oh, how often ! You walk together on the rampart in the fresh spring, on the high days and holidays, when all the world come out to walk on the ramparts, and all the bells of the church steeples seem to be singing a song of praise for the coming spring. Scarcely have the violets come forth ; — but there on the rampart, just opposite the beauti- ful castle of Kosenberg, there is a tree bright with the first green buds. Every year this tre<> sends forth fresh green shoots ; — alas, it is not so \\"itli the human heart. Dark mists, more in number than those that cover the northern 128 HY THE ALMSHOUSE WIOTjOW. skies, cloud tlie liiiman licart. Poor cliild — tlijp friend's bridal chamber is a black coffin, and thou becomest an old maid. From the alms- house window behind the balsams thou shalt look on the merry children at play, and shalt see thy own history renewed. And that is the life-drama that passes before the old maid, wliile she looks out upon the rampart, the green sunny rampart, where the children with their red cheeks and bare shoo- less feet are rejoicing merrily, like the other free little birds. GRANDMOTHER RA:N'DM0THEK is very old ; she hai many wrinkles, and her hair is quite white; but her eyes, which are like two stars, and even more beantiful, look at you mildly and pleasantly, and it does you good to look into them. And then she can tell the most won- derful stories ; and she has a gown, with great flowers worked in it, and it is of heavy silk, and it rustles. Grandmother knows a great deal, for she was alive before father and mother, that's quite certain ! Grandmother has a hymn- book, with great silver clasps, and she often reads in that book : in the middle of the book lies a rose, quite flat and dry; it is not a;-: ])retty as the roses she has standing in the glass, and yet she smiles at it most pleasantlj of all, and tears even come into her eyes. I wonder why grandmother looks at the withered 130 GRAI^DMOTHEP.. flower in the old book in tliat way ? Do yon know? Wliy, each time that grandmother'f? tears fall upon the rose its colors become fresh again ; the rose swells and fills the whole room ^vith its fragrance; the walls sink as if they were but mist, and all around her is the glori- ous green wood, where in summer the sunlight streams through the leaves of the trees; and grandmother — why she is young again, a charm- ing maiden with light curls and full blooming cheeks, pretty and graceful, fresh as any rose ; but the eyes, the mild blessed eyes, they have been left to grandmother. At her side sits a young man, tall and strong ; he gives the rose to her, and she smiles; grandmother cannot smile thus now ! — ^yes, now she smiles ! But now he has passed away, and many thoughts and many forms of the past, and the handsdme young man is gone, and the rose hes in the hymn-book, and grandmother she sits there again, an old woman, and glances down at the withered rose that lies in the book. Now grandmother is dead. She had beci Bitting in her arm-chair, and telling a long long capital tale ; and she said the tale was told now, and she was tired, and she leaned her head back to sleep awhile. One could hear GRANDMOTH EB. £ 3 1 her brcJli"g as she slept; but it became quieter asid ;Dv)re quiet, and her ct»untenauce was fuJl of Lapviness and peace; it seemed as ^if a sunsniue spread over her features ; and sho emiled again, ai.d then the people said she was dead. She was laid in the black coffin; and there she lay shrouded in the white linen folds, look- ing beajitiful and mild, though her eyes were closed; but every wrinkle bad vanished, and there was a smile around her mouth ; her hair was silver-white and venerable, and we did not feel at all afraid to look at the corpse of her who had been the dear good grandmother. And the hymn-book was placed imder her head, for she had wished it so, and the rose was still in the old book ; and then they buried grand- mother. On the grave, close by the churchyard wall, they planted a rose-tree, and it was full of roses, and the nightingale flew singing over the flowers and over the grave ; in the church the finest psalms sounded from the organ; the psalms that were written in the old book under the dead one's head. The moon shone down upon the grave ; but the dead one was not here : every child could go safely, even at night, 152 GKANDMOTHER. and pluck a rose there by the churchyard wall A dead person knows more than all we living ones. The dead know what a terror would come upon us, if the strange thing were to hajv pen that they appeared among ns: the dea UPON BEE AD. 145 dabs of nasty matter; a snake had wound itself among her hair, and it dangled over hei neck; and from every fold of her garment peeped out a toad, that puffed like an asthmatic lap-dog. It was very disagreeable. " But all the rest down here look horrid too," was the reflection with which she consoled herself. But the worst of all was the dreadful hunger she felt. Could she not stoop down and break off a piece of the bread on which she was standing? !N'o; her back was stiffened; her hands and her arms were stiffened ; her whole body was like a statue of stone ; she could only move her eyes, and these she could tm-n entirely round, and that was an ugly sight. And flies came and crept over her eyes backwards and forwards. She winked her eyes; but the in- truders did not fly away, for they could not — their wings had been pulled o&. That was another misery added to the himger — the gnawing hunger that was so terrible to bear ! " If this goes on, I cannot hold out much longer," she said. But she had to hold out, and her sufferings became greater. Then a warm tear fell upon her head. It trickled over her face and her neck, aU the 14:6 THE GIRL V/HO TROD UPON BREAD. way down to the bread. Another tear i'cll. then many followed. Who was weeping over little Inger '? Had she not a mother up yonder on the earth? The tears of anguish w^hich a mother sheds over her erring child always reach it ; but they do not comfort the child — they bum, they increase the sutfering. And oh ! this intolerable hunger ; yet not to be able to snatch one mouthfid of the bread she was treading under foot ! She became as thin, as slender as a reed. Another trial w^as that she heard distinctly all that was said of her above on the earth, and it was nothing but blame and evil. Though her mother w^ept, and was in much affliction, she still said — ^ *' Pride goes before a tall. That was your great fault, Inger. Oh, how miserable you have made your mother !" Her mother and all who were acquainted with her were well aware of the sin she had com- mitted in treading upon bread. Tkey knew that she had suuk into the bog, and was lost; the cow^herd had told that, for he had seen it himself from the brow of the hill. ''What afflictH^ you have brought on yoiil mother, Inger !" exclaimed lier mother. '* Ah. well ! I expected no better from you." THE GESL WHO TKOD UPON BREAD. 14:1 ** Wuuicl that I had never been born !^^ thought Inger; " that would have been much better for me. My mother's whimpering eau do no good now." She heard how the family, the people of dis tinction who had been so kind to her, spoke. '' She was a wicked child," they said ; " she • valued not the gifts of our Lord, but trod them under her feet. It will be difficult for her to get tlie gates of grace open to admit her." " They ought to have brought me up better," thought Inger. " They should have taken the whims out of me, if I had any." She heard that there was a common ballad made about her, " the bad gnl w^ho trod upon bread, to keep her shoes nicely clean," and this ballad was simg from one end of the coun- try to the other. ''That any one should have to suffer so much for such as that — be punished so severely for such a trifle !" thought Inger. " All these others are punished justly, for no doubt there was a great deal to punish ; but ah, how I sillier!" And her heart became still l^j^der than the substance into which she had been turned. "]So one can be better in such society. 1 its THE GIRL WHO TEOD UPON BREAD. will Dot grow better here. See how thej glare at me !" And lier heart became still harder, and she felt a hatred towards all mankind. " They have a nice story to tell up there ow. Oh, how I suffer !" She listened, and heard them telling her his- tory as a warning to children, and the little ones called her " ungodly Inger." *' She was so naughty," they said, " so very wicked, that she deserved to suffer." The children always spoke harshly of her. One day, however, that hunger and misery were gnawing her most dreadfully, and she heard her name mentioned, and her story told to an innocent child — a little girl — she observed that the child burst into tears in her distress for the proud, finely-dressed Inger. " But wiU she never come up again ?" asked he child. The answer was : " She will never come up again." " But if she will beg pardon, and promise never to be naughty again ?" " But she will not beg pardon," they said. " Oh, how I wish she would do it !" sobbed die Uttie girl in great distress. " 1 will give THE GIRL WHO TKOD UPON BREAD. Ii9 uiy doll, and my doll's house too, if Bhe may come up! It is so shocking for poor little Inger to be down there !" These words touched Inger's heart ; they seemed almost to make her good. It was the first time any one had said " poor Inger," and had not dwelt upon her faults. An innocent child cried and prayed for her. She was so much affected by this that she felt inclined to weep herself; but she could not, and this was an additional pain. Years passed on in the earth above; but down where she was there was no change, except that she heard more and more rarely sounds from above, and that she herself was more seldom mentioned. At last one day she heard a sigh, and " Inger, Inger, how misera- ble you have made me ! I foretold that you would !" These were her mother's last words on her death-bed. And again she heard herself named by her i )rmer employers, and her mistress said — " Perhaps I may meet you once more, Inger. Kone know whither they are to go." But Inger knew full well that her excellent mistress would never come to the place whore she was. 150 THE GIRL WHO TROD UPOI^ BREAD. Time passed on, and on, slowly and wretch- edly. Then once more Inger heard lier name mentioned, and she beheld as it were, directly above her two clear stars shining. Theso were two mild eyes that were closing upon earth. So many years had elapsed since a little girl had cried in childish sorrow over " ])oor Inger," that that child had become an old woman, whom our Lord was now about to call to himself. At that hour, when the tlioughts and the actions of a whole life stand in review before the parting soul, she remem- bered how, as a little child, she had wept bit- terly on hearing the history of Inger. That time, and those feelings, stood so prominently before the old woman's mind in the hour of death, that she cried ^dth intense emotion : " Lord, my God ! have not I often, like Inger, trod under foot Thy blessed gifts, and placed no value on them ? Have I not often been guilty of pride and vanity in my secret heart? But Thou, in Thy mercy, didst not let me sink; Thou didst hold me up. Oh, forsake me not in my last hour !" And the aged woman's eyes closed, and her Bpirit's eyes opened to what had been formerly invisible; and as Inger had been present in hei THE GIBL WHO TKOD UPON BREAD. 151 latest thoughts, she beheld her, and perceived how deep she had been dragged downward? At that sight the gentle being burst into tears ; and in the kingxlom of heaven she stood like a child, and wept for the fate of the unfortunate Inger. Her tears and her prayers sounded like an echo down in the hollow form that con- fined the imprisoned, miserable soul. That soul was overwhelmed by the unexpected love from those realms afar. One of God's angels wept for her ! Why was this vouchsafed to her ? The tortm-ed spirit gathered, as it were, into one thought, all the actions of its life — all that it had done ; and it shook with the vio- lence of its remorse — remorse such as Inger had never felt. Grief became her predomma- ting feeling. She thought that for her the gates of mercy would never open, and as in deep contrition and self-abasement she thought thiis, a ray of brightness penetrated into the dismal abyss — a ray more vivid and glorious than the sunbeams which thaw the snow figures that the children make in their gar- dens. And this ray, miore quickly than the Bnow flake that falls upon a child's warm mouth can be melted into a drop of water, caused Inger's petrified fi2;v.re to evaporate. 152 THE GIEL WHO TEOD UPON BREAU. and a little bird arose, following the zigzag course of the ray, up towards the world that mankind inhabit. But it seemed afraid and shy of every thing around it ; it felt ashamed of itself; and apparently wishing to avoid all living creatures, it sought, in haste, conceal- ment in a dark recess in a crumblino: wall. Here it sat, and it crept into the farthest comer, trembling all over. It could not sing, for it had no voice. For a long time it sat quietly there before it ventured to look out and behold all the beauty around. Yes, it was beauty ! The air was so fresh, yet so soft ; the moon shone so clearly ; the trees and the flow- ers scented so sweetly ; and it was so comfort- able where she sat — ^her feather garb so clean and nice ! How all creation told of love and glory ! The grateful thoughts that awoke in the bird's breast she would willingly have poured forth in song, but the power was de- nied to her. Yes, gladly would she have sung as do the cuckoo and nightingale in spring. Our gracious Lord, who hears the mute worm's hymn of praise, understood the thanksgiving that lifted itself up in the tones of thought, aa the psalm floated in David's mind before it resolved itseK into words and melody THE GIRL WHO TEOD UPON BEEAD. 153 As weeks passed on, these unexpressed feel ings of gratitude increased. Tliev would sure* Ij find a voice some day, with thQ fii*st stroke C)f the wing, to perform some good act. Migh^ ot this happen ? ]!!^ow came the holy Christmas festival. The peasants raised a pole close by the old wall, and bound an unthrashed bundle of oats on it, that the birds of the au* might also enjoy the Christmas, and have plenty to eat at that time which - was lield in commemoration of the redemption brought to mankind. And the sun rose brightly that Christmas aiorning, and shone upon the oat-sheaf, and ipon all the chirping bii'ds that flew around the pole ; and from the wall issued a faint twittering. The swelling thoughts had at last :Ound vent, and the low sound was a hymn ol loy, as the bu'd flew forth from its hiding- place. The winter was an unusually severe one. The waters were frozen thickly over ; the birds and the wild animals in the woods had great difiiculty in obtaining food. The little bird, that had so recently left its dark sctlitude, flew about the country roads, and when it ioimd by chance a little com dropped in the ruts, it 154 THE GIRL WHO TKOD [JPON BKEAD. would eat only a single grain itself, while it called all the starving sparrows to partake oi it. It would also fly to the villages and towns and look ^vell about; and where kind hands had strewed crumbs of bread outside the win dows for the birds, it would eat only one mor sel itself, and give all the rest to the others. At the end of the winter the bird had found and given away so many crumbs of bread, that the number put together w^ould have weigher as much as the loaf upon which little Ingei had trodden in order to save her fine shoes from being soiled; and when she had found and given away the very last crumb, the gray wings of the bird became white, and expanded wonderfally. " It is flying over the sea !" exclaimed the children who saw the white bird. Now it seemed to dip into the ocean, now it arose into the clear sunshine ; it glittered in the air ^ it disappeared high, high above ; and the cliil dren said that it had flown up to the sun. THE OLD CAK-TREE'S LAST DREAM A CHRISTMAS TALE. HEEE stood in a wood, high up on the side of a sloping hill near the open shore, a very old oak-tree. It was about three hundred and sixty-five years old ; but those long years were not more than as many single rota- tions of the earth for us men. We are awake during the day, and sleep during the night, and have then our dreams : with the tree it is otherwise. A tree is awake for three quarters of a year. It only sleeps in winter — tliat is its night — after the long d*07 ^Licb le called spring, summer, and autum^f.'^-' Many a warm summer day had the ephem eron insect frolicked around the oak-tree*s 156 THE OLD oak-tree's LAST DREAM. head — lived, moved about, and found itself happy; and when the little creature reposed for a moment in calm enjoyment on one of the great fresh oak-leaves, tlie tree always said — '■ Poor little thing ! one day alone is the spa! of thy whole life. Ah, how short ! It is ver^ sad." "Sad!" the ephemeron always replied. " What dost thou mean by that ? Every thing is so chai-ming, so warm and delightful, that 1 am quite happy." " But for only one day ; then all is over." " All is over !" exclaimed the insect. " What is the meaning of ' all is over V Is all over with thee also ?" " No ; I may live, perhaps, thousands of thy daj^s, and my lifetime is for centuries. It is so long a period that thou couldst not calcu- late it." "ITo, fori do not understand thee. Thou hast thousands of my days ; but 1 have thou- sands of moments to be bappy in. Is all th beauty in the world at an end when thou diest ?" i "Oh! \^ no means," replied the tree. " It will last longer — much, much longer than 1 THE OLD OAK-IKEE S LAST DEE AM. 157 " Well, I tlimk we are much ou a par, only that we reckon differently." And the ephemeron danced and floated about in the sunshine, and enjoyed itself with ita pretty little delicate wings, like the most mi nute flower — enjoyed itself in the warm air, which was so fragrant with the sweet perfumes of the clover-fields, of the wild roses in the hedges, and of the elder-flower, not to speak of t-he woodbine, the primrose, and the wild mint. The scent was so strong, that the ephemeron was almost intoxicated by it. The day was long and pleasant, full of gladness and sweet percep- tions ; and when the sun set, the little insect felt a sort of pleasing languor creeping over it after all its enjoyments. Its wings could no longer carry it, and very gently it glided down upon the soft blade of grass that was slightly waving in the evening breeze ; there it drooped its tiny head, and fell into a calm sleep — the sleep of death. " Poor little insect !" exclaimed the oak-tree, '' thy life was far too short." And every summer's day were repeated a similar dance, a similar conversation, and a «fr similar death. This went ori with the whole {ijeneratio7\ of ephemera, and all were cquallj 16? liappj, equally gay. The oak-tree remained awake during its spring morning, its summer day, and its autumn evening ; now it was near ^ its sleeping time, its night — the winter waa close at hand. Already the tempests were singing, " Good night, good-night ! Thy leaves are falling — we pluck them ! — we pluck them ! Try if thou canst slumber ; we shall sing thee to sleep, we shall rock thee to sleep ; and thy old boughs like this — they are creaking in their j oy ! Softly, softly sleep ! It is thy three hundred and sixty- fifth night. Sleep calmly ! The snow is fall- ing from the heavy clouds ; it will soon be a wide sheet, a warm coverlet for thy feet. Sleep calmly and dream pleasantly !" And the oak-tree stood disrobed of all its leaves to go to rest for the whole long winter, and dm'ing that time to dream many dreams, often something stirring and exciting, like the dreams of human beings. It, too, had once been little. Yes, an acorn had been its cradle. According to man's reck oning of time, it was now living in its fom-th century. It was the strongest and loftiest tree in the wood, with its venerable head reared * high above all the other trees ; and it was sees 16b far away at sea, and looked upon as a btacon by the navigators of the passing ships. It little thought how many eyes looked out for it Sigh up amidst its green coronal the wood pigeons built their nests, and the cuckoo's not was heard from thence; and in the autumn, when the leaves looked like hammered plates of copper, came birds of passage, and rested there before they flew far over the sea. But now it was winter, and the tree stood leafless, and the bended and gnarled branches were naked. Crows and jackdaws came and sat themselves there alternately, and talked of the rigorous weather which was commencing, ana how often difficult it was to find food in winter. It was just at the holy Christmas time that the tree dreamt its most charming dream. Let us listen to it. The tree had a distinct idea that it was a pe- riod of some solemn festival ; it thought it heard ail the church-bells round ringing, ana Jt seemed to be a mild siunmer day. Its lofty head, i": fan- cied, looked fresh and green, while the bright rays of the sun played among its thick foliage. The air was laden with the perfume of wild* flowers; various butterflies chased each other in sport around its boughs, and the ephemera itiO THE OLD OAK-TREE S LAST DREAM. danced and amused themselves. All that during years the tree had known and seen around it, now passed before it as in a fes- tive procession. It beheld, as in the olden time, knights and ladies on horseback, witli featliers in their hats and falcons on their hands, riding through the greenwood; it heard the homs of the huntsmen, and the baying of the hounds; it saw the enemies' troops, with tlieir various uniforms, their polished armor, their lances and lialberds, pitch their tents and take them down again ; the watch-fires blazed, and the soldiers sang and slept under the sheltering branches of the tree. It beheld lovers meet in the soft moonlight, and cut their names — that first letter — upon its olive-green bark. Guitars vnd ^olian hai-ps were again — but there were very many years between them — ^hnng up on the bouglis of the tree by gay travelling swains, and again their sweet sounds broke on the still- ness around. The wood-pigeons cooed, as if they were describing the feelings of the tree, and the cuckoo told how many summer days it should yet live. Then it was as if a new current of life rushed from its lowest roots up to its highest Iwanches, even to the furthest leaves; the tree 101 felt that it extended itself therewith, yet it per- ceived that its roots down in the ground were also full of life and warmth ; it felt its strengtli increasing, and that it was growing taller and aller. The trunk shot up — there was nu pause — more and more it grew — its head be- came fuller, broader — and as the tree grew it became happier, and its desire increased to rise up still higher, even until it could reach the warm, blazing sun. Already had it moimted above the clouds, which, like multitudes of dark migratory birds, or flocks of white swans, were floating under it ; and every leaf of the tree that had eyes could see. The stars became visible during the day, and looked so laro-e and bris^ht: each of them shone like a pair of mild, clear eyes. They might have recalled to memory dear, well- known eyes — the eyes of children — the eyes of lovers when they met beneath the tree. It was a moment of exquisite delight Tot n the midst of its pleasure it felt a desire^ a longing that all the other trees in the wood Deneath — all the bushes, plants, and flowers — might be able to lift themselves like it, and to participate in its joyful and triumphant feel- ings. The mia'hty oak-tree, in the midst of it? 162 glorious dream, could not be entirely liap]i;y unless it had all its old friends with it, great and small ; and this feeling pervaded eyery branch and leaf of the tree as strongly as if it had lived in the breast of a human beinor. The summit of the tree moved about as if il missed and sought something left behind. Then it perceived the scent of the woodbine, and soon the still stronger scent of the violeta and wild thjine ; and it fancied it could hear the cuckoo repeat its note. At length amidst the clouds peeped forth the tops of the green trees of the wood ; they also grew higher and higher, as the oak had done ; the bushes and the flowers shot up high in the air ; and some of these, dragging their slender roots after them, flew up more rapidly. The birch was the swiftest among the trees : like a white flash of lightning it darted its slender stem upwards, its branches waving like green wreaths and flags. The wood and all its leafy contents, even the brown-feathered rushes, 'Tew, and the birds followed them singing ; and n the fluttering blades of sill^en grass the grass hopper sat and played with his wings against his long thin legs, and the wild bees hammed, and all was song and gladness as up in heavea THE JLD OAK-TKEE 6 LAST DEEAil. 163 "But the blue-bell and the little wild taasy," said the oak^ree; "I should like tliem with me toe." " We are with you," they sang in their low sweet tones. " But the pretty water-lily of last year, and tlie wild apple-tree that stood do^Ti yonder, and looked so fresh, and all the forest flowers of years past, had they lived and bloomed till now, they might have been with me." " We are with you — we are with you," sang their voices far above, as if they had gone up before. " Weil, this is quite enchanting," cried the old tree. " I have them all, small and great — not one is forgotten. How is all this happiness possible and conceivable ?" " In the celestial paradise all this is possible and conceivable," voices chanted around. And the tree, which continued to rise, ob served that its roots were loosening from their hold in the earth. "This is well," said the tree. "Nothing now ret&^ins me. I am free to mount to the highest heaven — to splendor and light : and all that are dear to me are with me — small and great — all with me." 104 THE OLD OAK-TREES LAST DREAM. This was the oak-tree s dream ; and whilst it dreamt, a fearful storm had burst over sea and land tl/at holy Christmas eve. The ocean rolled heavy billows on the beach — the tree rocked violently, and was torn up by the roots at the moment it was dreaming that its roots were loosening. It fell. Its three hundred and sixty-five years were now as but the day oi the ephemeron. On Christmas morning, when the sun arose, the storm was passed. AU the church-bells were ringing joyously ; and from every chim- ney, even the lowest in the peasant's cot, curled from the altars of the Druidical feast the blue smoke of the thanksgiving oblation. The sea became more and more calm, and on a large vessel in the offing, which had weatliered the tempest during the night, were hoisted all its flags in honor of the day. '' The tree is gone — that old oak-tree, whic^h was always our landmark !" cried the sailors ^' It must have fallen in the storm last night WIio shall replace it ? Alas ! no one can.'' This was the tree's funeral oration — short, but well meant — as it lay stretched at full length amidst the snow upon the shore, and THE OLD OAK-TKEE S LAST DKEAM. over it floated the melody of tlie psalin-tiiiiea from the ship— hymns of Christmas joy, and thanksgivings for the salvation of the souls oi mankind by Jesus Christ, and the blessed promise of everlasting life. " Let sacred songs arise on liigh, Loud hallelujahs reach the sky ; Let joy and peace each mortal share. While hymns of praise shall fill the air." Thus ran the old psalm, and every one out yonder, on the deck of the ship, lifted up his voice in thanksgiving and prayer, just as the old oak-tree was lifted up in its last and most delightftd dream on that Chi-istmas eve. Lo UC SOUTHERN REGIONA vol CLA tyi poems of OlTV'ER GOLDSIHTH, RoEKRT Burns, Alfred Tennyson, Jean Ingelow, George Eliot, Schiller, 000 007 842 ^says of Handy- 5, First is, large v-lebrated S. T. Coleridge, Wm. E. Aytoiin, Lord Byron, Goethe, Edgar A. Poe, T. B. SIacaulay, Thomas Campbell. ELZEVIR CLASSICS. Second Series. Con- taining Historical, Humorous, Biographical, Scientific, and Legendary contributions (in a neat, large type, 342 pages, handsome cloth-bound volume), by the following famous authors: Washington Irving, Dean Swift, Canon F. W. Farrar, James Parton, Frank H. Norton, Andrew Wilson, Orpheus C. Kerr, S. Baring-Gould, W. Mattieu Williams, J. H. Merle D'Aubigne, AND OTHERS. ELZEVIR CLASSICS. Third Series. A neat, handy volume of 3;30 pages, large type, cloth bind- ing, containing: By George Rawlinson.— The Civilizations of Asia. By John Cairo. — Buddhism. By Charles King.sley. The Celtic Hermits. By Cunningham Geikie.— The Crucifixion. By Frjsderick W. Farrar.— Seneca and St. Paul. By Conybeare and Howson.— A Half Hour -n-ith St. PauL By Franz Delitzsch.— Jesus and Hillel. By F. Godet.— The Four Chief Apostles. By Mrs. Muller.— Life of George Muller. ELZEVIR CLASSICS. . Fourth Series. A neat, handy volume of 3GG pages, large type, cloth bind- ing, containing: By Herbert Spencer.— The Coming Slavery. Philosophy of Style. By Matthew Arnold. — Numbers. Emerson. By George William Curtis.— Wendell Phillips. By Wendell Phillips.— The War for the Union. By Robert Giffen.— Progress of the Working Classes. By T. H. Huxley.— Evidences of Evolution. By John Tyndai.l— Count Rumford. By Edward Ortois. —Public Health. ANNABEL and OTHER POE3IS. By Mrs. Ellen P. Allerton. A dainty little volume of poems, some of which are already well known, which the author hopes may "serve to brighten homely toil with a touch of the ideal." 12mo., fine cloth, gilt top. rOEMS by H. IF, LONGFELLOW. In one l-,>mo. volume of 269 pages, Small Pica type, leaded. Fine cloth, red top. POEMS by JOHN G. WHITTIEB. In one 12mo. volume of 319 pages. Small Pica type, leaded. Fine cloth, red top. POEMS by WM. CULLEN BRYANT. In one 12mo. volume, 347 pages. Small Pica type, leaded. Fine cloth, red top POETICAL CONCORDANCE. A Concise Poetical Concordance to the principal poets of the world, embracing titles, first lines, characters, subjects, and quotations. Compiled by Charles A. Durfee, compiler of the Index to Harpers' Magazine, 1850 to 1880, and other works. 639 pages, large 12mo., Bourgeois and Nonpareil type. Library edition, plain cloth, also bound in extra cloth, gilt edges, ornamented. The best existing key to the literature embodied in tlie poetical works of the following world- famous authors : Edwin Arnold. Owen Meredith, William E. Aytoiin, John Milton, Mrs. E. B. Browning, Homers Iliad, William Cullen Brj'ant, Homer's Odyssey, Thomas Campbell, Ossiau, Geoffrey Chaucer, Adelaide Proctor, S. T. Coleridge. D. Gt. Rossetti, William Cowper, Schiller, George Crabbe, Wilb'am Shakespeare, John Dryden, P. B. Shelley, J. W. Vou Goethe, Edmuixl Spencer, Oliver Goldsmith, Henry Taylor, Mrs. Hemans, Alfred Tennyson, George Herbert. James Thomson, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Virgil, Jean Ingelow, Charles Wesley, Henry W. Longfellow, John G. Whittier, James Russell Lowell, N. P. Willis, T. B. Macaulay, William Wordsworth. ROBERT BURNS. Tlie Poetical Works of Robert Burns, with Introduction, Biography, and Notes. Complete in three volumes of 353, 330, and 356 pages. Bourgeois type, leaded. Bound in fine cloth, red edges; also bound in full Russia, gilt edges. /SIU SCOTT'S C0MPL:ETE'W0RKS. New Library Edition, on large paper, finely printed from new plates, giving all the original notes, introductions, and glossaries. Illustrated. Complete in 23 volumes. Over 11,000 pages, small Svo., extra cloth, beveled boards, gilt tops. Volumes sold separately. Vol. 1. Waverley, Vol.12. Rob Roy, The Black 2. Woodstock, 3. Kennil worth. 4. Pt. Ronan's Well, 5. Guy Mannering, 6. Anne of Geierstein, 7. Heart of Midlothian, 8. Ivanhoe, 9. Bride of Lammerm'e, Surgeon's Daughter, 10. Legend of Montrose, Talisman, 11. Monastery, Chronicles of the Cauongate, Dwarf, The Abbot, fortunes of Nigel. [•t of Paris, 13. 14. 15. Count Robert 16. Red Gauntlet, 17. The Pirate, 18. Fair Maid of Perth, 19. The Antiquary, 20. Peverill of the Peak, 21. The Betrothed, Castle Dangerous, 22. Old Mortality, Keepsake Stories, 23. Quentin Durward. DICKENS'S COMPLETE WORKS. New Library Edition, over 150 illustrations, on large paper. Over 12,000 pages, complete in 15 small octavo volumes, extra cloth, beveled boards, gilt tops. Volumes sold separately. 1 Pickwick Papers. 2 David Copperfield, 3 Martin Chuzzlewit, 4 Nicholas Nickleby, 5 Bleak House, 6 Little Dorrit, 7 Dombey and Son. 8 Our Mutual Friend, 9 Oliver Twist, Pictures from Italy. & American Notes, 10 Old Curiosity Shop, 11 Tale of Two Cities, and Sketches by Boz, 12 Barnaby Rudge, and Mys- tery of Edwin Drood, 13 Great Expectations, Un- commercial Traveller, and Miscellaneous, 14 Christmas Stories, and Re- printed Pieces, 15 Child's History of England, and Miscellaneous. THOSE TALES of EDGAR A, POE. In one handsome large 12mo. volume of 712 pages, Long Primer type. Fine cloth binding. This volume contains the following famous stories: THE NARRATIVE OF A. GORDON PYM. THE GOLD BUG. and OTHER TALES. THE ASSIGNATION, and OTHER TALES. THE MURDER in the RUE MORGUE, and OTHER TALES. PELVIC and HERNIAL THERAPE- UTICS. Principles and Methods for Remedying Chronic Affections of the Lower Part of the Trunk, including Processes for Self- Cure. By Dr. George H. Taylor, Large 12mo., Long Prim/er type, fine cloth, red edges.