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The Happy Prince And Other Tales=
By
Oscar Wilde
Contents
High above the ci=
ty,
on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin l=
eaves
of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby gl=
owed
on his sword-hilt.
He was very much
admired indeed. "He is as
beautiful as a weathercock," remarked one of the Town Councillors who
wished to gain a reputation for having artistic tastes; "only not quit=
e so
useful," he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, w=
hich
he really was not.
"Why can't y=
ou
be like the Happy Prince?" asked a sensible mother of her little boy w=
ho
was crying for the moon. &quo=
t;The
Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything."
"I am glad t=
here
is some one in the world who is quite happy," muttered a disappointed =
man
as he gazed at the wonderful statue.
"He looks ju=
st
like an angel," said the Charity Children as they came out of the
cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks and their clean white pinafores.
"How do you
know?" said the Mathematical Master, "you have never seen one.&qu=
ot;
"Ah! but we
have, in our dreams," answered the children; and the Mathematical Mast=
er
frowned and looked very severe, for he did not approve of children dreaming=
.
One night there f=
lew
over the city a little Swallow. His
friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, =
for
he was in love with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early in the spring=
as he
was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracte=
d by
her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.
"Shall I love
you?" said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point at once, and the
Reed made him a low bow. So h=
e flew
round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver r=
ipples. This was his courtship, and it las=
ted
all through the summer.
"It is a
ridiculous attachment," twittered the other Swallows; "she has no
money, and far too many relations"; and indeed the river was quite ful=
l of
Reeds. Then, when the autumn =
came
they all flew away.
After they had go=
ne
he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady- love. "She has no conversation,&quo=
t; he
said, "and I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirt=
ing
with the wind." And cert=
ainly,
whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtseys. "I admit that she is
domestic," he continued, "but I love travelling, and my wife,
consequently, should love travelling also."
"Will you co=
me
away with me?" he said finally to her; but the Reed shook her head, she
was so attached to her home.
"You have be=
en
trifling with me," he cried.
"I am off to the Pyramids.&nbs=
p;
Good-bye!" and he flew away.
All day long he f=
lew,
and at night-time he arrived at the city. "Where shall I put up?"=
he
said; "I hope the town has made preparations."
Then he saw the
statue on the tall column.
"I will put =
up
there," he cried; "it is a fine position, with plenty of fresh
air." So he alighted just
between the feet of the Happy Prince.
"I have a go=
lden
bedroom," he said softly to himself as he looked round, and he prepare=
d to
go to sleep; but just as he was putting his head under his wing a large dro=
p of
water fell on him. "What=
a curious
thing!" he cried; "there is not a single cloud in the sky, the st=
ars
are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe=
is
really dreadful. The Reed use=
d to
like the rain, but that was merely her selfishness."
Then another drop
fell.
"What is the=
use
of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?" he said; "I must look
for a good chimney-pot," and he determined to fly away.
But before he had
opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and saw--Ah! what di=
d he
see?
The eyes of the H=
appy
Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden
cheeks. His face was so beaut=
iful
in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.
"Who are
you?" he said.
"I am the Ha=
ppy
Prince."
"Why are you
weeping then?" asked the Swallow; "you have quite drenched me.&qu=
ot;
"When I was
alive and had a human heart," answered the statue, "I did not know
what tears were, for I lived in the Palace of Sans- Souci, where sorrow is =
not
allowed to enter. In the dayt=
ime I played
with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the
Great Hall. Round the garden =
ran a
very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything ab=
out me
was so beautiful. My courtiers
called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be
happiness. So I lived, and so=
I died. And now that I am dead they have s=
et me
up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my ci=
ty,
and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot chose but weep."
"What! is he=
not
solid gold?" said the Swallow to himself. He was too polite to make any pers=
onal
remarks out loud.
"Far away,&q=
uot;
continued the statue in a low musical voice, "far away in a little str=
eet
there is a poor house. One of=
the
windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she=
has
coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion- flowe=
rs on
a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen's maids-of- honour to wear at t=
he
next Court-ball. In a bed in =
the
corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for
oranges. His mother has nothi=
ng to
give him but river water, so he is crying.=
Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby ou=
t of
my sword-hilt? My feet are fa=
stened
to this pedestal and I cannot move."
"I am waited=
for
in Egypt," said the Swallow.
"My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the
large lotus- flowers. Soon th=
ey
will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there himself in
his painted coffin. He is wra=
pped
in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices.=
Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his hands are like
withered leaves."
"Swallow,
Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "will you not stay wit=
h me
for one night, and be my messenger?
The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad."
"I don't thi=
nk I
like boys," answered the Swallow.&nbs=
p;
"Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two r=
ude
boys, the miller's sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course; we
swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family famous =
for
its agility; but still, it was a mark of disrespect."
But the Happy Pri=
nce
looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry. "It is very cold here," =
he
said; "but I will stay with you for one night, and be your
messenger."
"Thank you,
little Swallow," said the Prince.
So the Swallow pi=
cked
out the great ruby from the Prince's sword, and flew away with it in his be=
ak
over the roofs of the town.
He passed by the
cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard =
the
sound of dancing. A beautiful=
girl
came out on the balcony with her lover. "How wonderful the stars
are," he said to her, "and how wonderful is the power of love!&qu=
ot;
"I hope my d=
ress
will be ready in time for the State-ball," she answered; "I have
ordered passion-flowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so
lazy."
He passed over the
river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of the ships. He passed over the Ghetto, and saw=
the
old Jews bargaining with each other, and weighing out money in copper scale=
s. At last he came to the poor house =
and
looked in. The boy was tossing
feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> In he hopped, and laid the great r=
uby on
the table beside the woman's thimble.
Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy's forehead with h=
is
wings. "How cool I feel,=
"
said the boy, "I must be getting better"; and he sank into a deli=
cious
slumber.
Then the Swallow =
flew
back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had done. "It is curious," he rema=
rked,
"but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold."
"That is bec=
ause
you have done a good action," said the Prince. And the little Swallow
began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking always made him sleepy.
When day broke he
flew down to the river and had a bath.&nbs=
p;
"What a remarkable phenomenon," said the Professor of
Ornithology as he was passing over the bridge. "A swallow in winter!" And he wrote a long letter about i=
t to
the local newspaper. Every one
quoted it, it was full of so many words that they could not understand.
"To-night I =
go
to Egypt," said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the
prospect. He visited all the =
public
monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chir=
ruped,
and said to each other, "What a distinguished stranger!" so he
enjoyed himself very much.
When the moon ros=
e he
flew back to the Happy Prince.
"Have you any commissions for Egypt?" he cried; "I am
just starting."
"Swallow,
Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "will you not stay wit=
h me
one night longer?"
"I am waited=
for
in Egypt," answered the Swallow.
"To-morrow my friends will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there amon=
g the
bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon. All night long he watches the star=
s, and
when the morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silen=
t. At noon the yellow lions come down=
to
the water's edge to drink. Th=
ey
have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the =
cataract.
"Swallow,
Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "far away across the c=
ity
I see a young man in a garret. He
is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side th=
ere
is a bunch of withered violets. His
hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has
large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the
Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and
hunger has made him faint."
"I will wait
with you one night longer," said the Swallow, who really had a good
heart. "Shall I take him
another ruby?"
"Alas! I have no ruby now," said the
Prince; "my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, w=
hich
were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it =
to
him. He will sell it to the
jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play."
"Dear
Prince," said the Swallow, "I cannot do that"; and he began =
to
weep.
"Swallow,
Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "do as I command
you."
So the Swallow
plucked out the Prince's eye, and flew away to the student's garret. It was easy enough to get in, as t=
here
was a hole in the roof. Throu=
gh
this he darted, and came into the room. The young man had his head buried in
his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird's wings, and when he
looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets.
"I am beginn=
ing
to be appreciated," he cried; "this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play," an=
d he
looked quite happy.
The next day the
Swallow flew down to the harbour.
He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling=
big
chests out of the hold with ropes.
"Heave a-hoy!" they shouted as each chest came up. "I am going to Egypt"! c=
ried
the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the
Happy Prince.
"I am come to
bid you good-bye," he cried.
"Swallow,
Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "will you not stay wit=
h me
one night longer?"
"It is
winter," answered the Swallow, "and the chill snow will soon be
here. In Egypt the sun is war=
m on
the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily abo=
ut
them. My companions are build=
ing a
nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching th=
em,
and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never
forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in p=
lace
of those you have given away. The ruby
shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the g=
reat
sea."
"In the squa=
re
below," said the Happy Prince, "there stands a little
match-girl. She has let her m=
atches
fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she do=
es not
bring home some money, and she is crying.&=
nbsp;
She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give i=
t to
her, and her father will not beat her."
"I will stay
with you one night longer," said the Swallow, "but I cannot pluck=
out
your eye. You would be quite =
blind
then."
"Swallow,
Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "do as I command
you."
So he plucked out=
the
Prince's other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the match-girl,
and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. "What a lovely bit of glass,&=
quot;
cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing.
Then the Swallow =
came
back to the Prince. "You=
are
blind now," he said, "so I will stay with you always."
"No, little
Swallow," said the poor Prince, "you must go away to Egypt."=
"I will stay
with you always," said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince's feet.=
All the next day =
he
sat on the Prince's shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in
strange lands. He told him of=
the red
ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold-fis=
h in
their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in=
the
desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side=
of
their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King of the
Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large cryst=
al;
of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests=
to
feed it with honey-cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on la=
rge
flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.
"Dear little
Swallow," said the Prince, "you tell me of marvellous things, but
more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as
Misery. Fly over my city, lit=
tle
Swallow, and tell me what you see there."
So the Swallow fl=
ew
over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful house=
s,
while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw t=
he
white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black street=
s. Under
the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another's arms to=
try
and keep themselves warm. &qu=
ot;How
hungry we are!" they said.
"You must not lie here," shouted the Watchman, and they
wandered out into the rain.
Then he flew back=
and
told the Prince what he had seen.
"I am covered
with fine gold," said the Prince, "you must take it off, leaf by
leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold can make th=
em
happy."
Leaf after leaf of
the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite du=
ll
and grey. Leaf after leaf of =
the fine
gold he brought to the poor, and the children's faces grew rosier, and they
laughed and played games in the street.&nb=
sp;
"We have bread now!" they cried.
Then the snow cam=
e,
and after the snow came the frost.
The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so brig=
ht
and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves =
of
the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore scarlet =
caps
and skated on the ice.
The poor little
Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince, he loved=
him
too well. He picked up crumbs=
outside
the baker's door when the baker was not looking and tried to keep himself w=
arm
by flapping his wings.
But at last he kn=
ew
that he was going to die. He =
had
just strength to fly up to the Prince's shoulder once more. "Good-bye, dear Prince!"=
he
murmured, "will you let me kiss your hand?"
"I am glad t=
hat
you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow," said the Prince,
"you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for I
love you."
"It is not to
Egypt that I am going," said the Swallow. "I am going to the House of
Death. Death is the brother of
Sleep, is he not?"
And he kissed the
Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet.
At that moment a
curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart =
had snapped
right in two. It certainly wa=
s a
dreadfully hard frost.
Early the next
morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in company with the Town
Councillors. As they passed t=
he
column he looked up at the statue:
"Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!" he said.
"How shabby
indeed!" cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed with the Mayor;=
and
they went up to look at it.
"The ruby has
fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer,&quo=
t;
said the Mayor in fact, "he is litttle beter than a beggar!"
"Little bett=
er
than a beggar," said the Town Councillors.
"And here is
actually a dead bird at his feet!" continued the Mayor. "We must really issue a
proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die here." And the Town Clerk made a note of =
the suggestion.
So they pulled do=
wn
the statue of the Happy Prince.
"As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful," said
the Art Professor at the University.
Then they melted =
the
statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation to dec=
ide
what was to be done with the metal.
"We must have another statue, of course," he said, "a=
nd
it shall be a statue of myself."
"Of
myself," said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled. When I last heard of them they were
quarrelling still.
"What a stra=
nge
thing!" said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry. "This broken lead heart will =
not
melt in the furnace. We must =
throw
it away." So they threw =
it on
a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also lying.
"Bring me the
two most precious things in the city," said God to one of His Angels; =
and
the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.
"You have
rightly chosen," said God, "for in my garden of Paradise this lit=
tle
bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall
praise me."
THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE R=
OSE
"She said th=
at
she would dance with me if I brought her red roses," cried the young
Student; "but in all my garden there is no red rose."
From her nest in =
the
holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the lea=
ves,
and wondered.
"No red rose=
in
all my garden!" he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears.
"Here at las=
t is
a true lover," said the Nightingale.&=
nbsp;
"Night after night have I sung of him, though I knew him not: night after night have I told his =
story
to the stars, and now I see him.
His hair is dark as the hyacinth-blossom, and his lips are red as the
rose of his desire; but passion has made his face like pale ivory, and sorr=
ow
has set her seal upon his brow."
"The Prince
gives a ball to-morrow night," murmured the young Student, "and my
love will be of the company. =
If I
bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn. If I bring her a red rose, I shall=
hold
her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her hand w=
ill
be clasped in mine. But there=
is no
red rose in my garden, so I shall sit lonely, and she will pass me by. She will have no heed of me, and my
heart will break."
"Here indeed=
is
the true lover," said the Nightingale. "What I sing of, he suffers--=
what
is joy to me, to him is pain.
Surely Love is a wonderful thing.&n=
bsp;
It is more precious than emeralds, and dearer than fine opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy=
it,
nor is it set forth in the marketplace.&nb=
sp;
It may not be purchased of the merchants, nor can it be weighed out =
in
the balance for gold."
"The musicia=
ns
will sit in their gallery," said the young Student, "and play upon
their stringed instruments, and my love will dance to the sound of the harp=
and
the violin. She will dance so
lightly that her feet will not touch the floor, and the courtiers in their =
gay
dresses will throng round her. But
with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give her"; and he
flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept=
.
"Why is he
weeping?" asked a little Green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tai=
l in
the air.
"Why,
indeed?" said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam.
"Why,
indeed?" whispered a Daisy to his neighbour, in a soft, low voice.
"He is weepi=
ng
for a red rose," said the Nightingale.
"For a red
rose?" they cried; "how very ridiculous!" and the little Liz=
ard,
who was something of a cynic, laughed outright.
But the Nightinga=
le
understood the secret of the Student's sorrow, and she sat silent in the
oak-tree, and thought about the mystery of Love.
Suddenly she spre=
ad
her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She passed through the grove like a
shadow, and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.
In the centre of =
the
grass-plot was standing a beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it she flew
over to it, and lit upon a spray.
"Give me a r=
ed
rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."
But the Tree shook
its head.
"My roses are
white," it answered; "as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter
than the snow upon the mountain.
But go to my brother who grows round the old sun-dial, and perhaps he
will give you what you want."
So the Nightingale
flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial.
"Give me a r=
ed
rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."
But the Tree shook
its head.
"My roses are
yellow," it answered; "as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden who
sits upon an amber throne, and yellower than the daffodil that blooms in the
meadow before the mower comes with his scythe. But go to my brother who grows ben=
eath
the Student's window, and perhaps he will give you what you want."
So the Nightingale
flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Student's window.
"Give me a r=
ed
rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."
But the Tree shook
its head.
"My roses are
red," it answered, "as red as the feet of the dove, and redder th=
an
the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the ocean-cavern. But the winter has chilled my vein=
s, and
the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I s=
hall
have no roses at all this year."
"One red ros=
e is
all I want," cried the Nightingale, "only one red rose! Is there no way by which I can get
it?"
"There is
away," answered the Tree; "but it is so terrible that I dare not =
tell
it to you."
"Tell it to
me," said the Nightingale, "I am not afraid."
"If you want=
a
red rose," said the Tree, "you must build it out of music by
moonlight, and stain it with your own heart's-blood. You must sing to me with your brea=
st
against a thorn. All night lo=
ng you
must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood =
must
flow into my veins, and become mine."
"Death is a
great price to pay for a red rose," cried the Nightingale, "and L=
ife
is very dear to all. It is pl=
easant
to sit in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and =
the
Moon in her chariot of pearl. Sweet
is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the
valley, and the heather that blows on the hill. Yet Love is better than Life, and =
what
is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?"
So she spread her
brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She swept over the garden =
like
a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove.
The young Student=
was
still lying on the grass, where she had left him, and the tears were not yet
dry in his beautiful eyes.
"Be happy,&q=
uot;
cried the Nightingale, "be happy; you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by
moonlight, and stain it with my own heart's-blood. All that I ask of you in return is=
that you
will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, though she is wise,
and mightier than Power, though he is mighty. Flame- coloured are his wings, and
coloured like flame is his body.
His lips are sweet as honey, and his breath is like frankincense.&qu=
ot;
The Student looke=
d up
from the grass, and listened, but he could not understand what the Nighting=
ale
was saying to him, for he only knew the things that are written down in boo=
ks.
But the Oak-tree
understood, and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little Nightingale who
had built her nest in his branches.
"Sing me one
last song," he whispered; "I shall feel very lonely when you are
gone."
So the Nightingale
sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver j=
ar.
When she had fini=
shed
her song the Student got up, and pulled a note-book and a lead-pencil out of
his pocket.
"She has
form," he said to himself, as he walked away through the grove--"=
that
cannot be denied to her; but has she got feeling? I am afraid not. In fact, she is like most artists;=
she
is all style, without any sincerity.
She would not sacrifice herself for others. She thinks merely of music, and
everybody knows that the arts are selfish.=
Still, it must be admitted that she has some beautiful notes in her
voice. What a pity it is that=
they
do not mean anything, or do any practical good." And he went into his room, and lay=
down
on his little pallet-bed, and began to think of his love; and, after a time=
, he
fell asleep.
And when the Moon
shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her bre=
ast
against the thorn. All night =
long she
sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned do=
wn
and listened. All night long =
she
sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast, and her life-bl=
ood ebbed
away from her.
She sang first of=
the
birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl. And on the top-most spray of the
Rose-tree there blossomed a marvellous rose, petal following petal, as song
followed song. Pale was it, at first, as the mist that hangs over the
river--pale as the feet of the morning, and silver as the wings of the dawn=
. As
the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver, as the shadow of a rose in a
water-pool, so was the rose that blossomed on the topmost spray of the Tree=
.
But the Tree crie=
d to
the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little
Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the ro=
se
is finished."
So the Nightingale
pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song, for =
she
sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid.
And a delicate fl=
ush
of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of the
bridegroom when he kisses the lips of the bride. But the thorn had not yet reached =
her
heart, so the rose's heart remained white, for only a Nightingale's
heart's-blood can crimson the heart of a rose.
And the Tree crie=
d to
the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little
Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the ro=
se
is finished."
So the Nightingale
pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fi=
erce
pang of pain shot through her. Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and
wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, =
of
the Love that dies not in the tomb.
And the marvellous
rose became crimson, like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, =
and
crimson as a ruby was the heart.
But the Nightinga=
le's
voice grew fainter, and her little wings began to beat, and a film came over
her eyes. Fainter and fainter=
grew
her song, and she felt something choking her in her throat.
Then she gave one
last burst of music. The whit=
e Moon
heard it, and she forgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky. The red rose heard it, and it trem=
bled
all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals to the cold morning air. Echo bore it to her purple cavern =
in the
hills, and woke the sleeping shepherds from their dreams. It floated through
the reeds of the river, and they carried its message to the sea.
"Look,
look!" cried the Tree, "the rose is finished now"; but the N=
ightingale
made no answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in=
her
heart.
And at noon the
Student opened his window and looked out.
"Why, what a
wonderful piece of luck!" he cried; "here is a red rose! I have never seen any rose like it=
in
all my life. It is so beautif=
ul
that I am sure it has a long Latin name"; and he leaned down and pluck=
ed
it.
Then he put on his
hat, and ran up to the Professor's house with the rose in his hand.
The daughter of t=
he
Professor was sitting in the doorway winding blue silk on a reel, and her
little dog was lying at her feet.
"You said th=
at
you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose," cried the
Student. "Here is the re=
ddest
rose in all the world. You wi=
ll
wear it to-night next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell you=
how
I love you."
But the girl frow=
ned.
"I am afraid=
it
will not go with my dress," she answered; "and, besides, the
Chamberlain's nephew has sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows that
jewels cost far more than flowers."
"Well, upon =
my
word, you are very ungrateful," said the Student angrily; and he threw=
the
rose into the street, where it fell into the gutter, and a cart-wheel went =
over
it.
"Ungrateful!=
"
said the girl. "I tell y=
ou
what, you are very rude; and, after all, who are you? Only a Student. Why, I don't believe you have even=
got
silver buckles to your shoes as the Chamberlain's nephew has"; and she=
got
up from her chair and went into the house.
"What I a si=
lly
thing Love is," said the Student as he walked away. "It is not ha=
lf
as useful as Logic, for it does not prove anything, and it is always telling
one of things that are not going to happen, and making one believe things t=
hat
are not true. In fact, it is =
quite
unpractical, and, as in this age to be practical is everything, I shall go =
back
to Philosophy and study Metaphysics."
So he returned to=
his
room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.
Every afternoon, =
as
they were coming from school, the children used to go and play in the Giant=
's
garden.
It was a large lo=
vely
garden, with soft green grass. Here
and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were
twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms=
of
pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and san=
g so
sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to
them. "How happy we are
here!" they cried to each other.
One day the Giant
came back. He had been to vis=
it his
friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. After the seven years were over he=
had
said all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he
determined to return to his own castle.&nb=
sp;
When he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden.
"What are you
doing here?" he cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran away=
.
"My own gard=
en
is my own garden," said the Giant; "any one can understand that, =
and
I will allow nobody to play in it but myself." So he built a high wall=
all
round it, and put up a notice-board.
TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED
He was a very selfish Giant.
The poor children=
had
now nowhere to play. They tri=
ed to
play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and =
they
did not like it. They used to
wander round the high wall when their lessons were over, and talk about the=
beautiful
garden inside. "How happ=
y we
were there," they said to each other.
Then the Spring c=
ame,
and all over the country there were little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the Selfish =
Giant it
was still winter. The birds d=
id not
care to sing in it as there were no children, and the trees forgot to
blossom. Once a beautiful flo=
wer
put its head out from the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so
sorry for the children that it slipped back into the ground again, and went=
off
to sleep. The only people who=
were
pleased were the Snow and the Frost.
"Spring has forgotten this garden," they cried, "so we
will live here all the year round."&n=
bsp;
The Snow covered up the grass with her great white cloak, and the Fr=
ost
painted all the trees silver. Then
they invited the North Wind to stay with them, and he came. He was wrapped in furs, and he roa=
red
all day about the garden, and blew the chimney-pots down. "This is a delightful spot,&q=
uot;
he said, "we must ask the Hail on a visit." So the Hail came. Every day for three hours he rattl=
ed on
the roof of the castle till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran ro=
und
and round the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and his br=
eath
was like ice.
"I cannot
understand why the Spring is so late in coming," said the Selfish Gian=
t,
as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold white garden; "I ho=
pe
there will be a change in the weather."
But the Spring ne=
ver
came, nor the Summer. The Aut=
umn
gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the Giant's garden she gave none.=
"He
is too selfish," she said. So
it was always Winter there, and the North Wind, and the Hail, and the Frost,
and the Snow danced about through the trees.
One morning the G=
iant
was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears th=
at he
thought it must be the King's musicians passing by. It was really only a little linnet
singing outside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird si=
ng
in his garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the
world. Then the Hail stopped =
dancing
over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume c=
ame
to him through the open casement.
"I believe the Spring has come at last," said the Giant; a=
nd
he jumped out of bed and looked out.
What did he see?<= o:p>
He saw a most
wonderful sight. Through a li=
ttle
hole in the wall the children had crept in, and they were sitting in the
branches of the trees. In eve=
ry
tree that he could see there was a little child. And the trees were so glad to have=
the
children back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were
waving their arms gently above the children's heads. The birds were flying about and
twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up through the green
grass and laughing. It was a =
lovely
scene, only in one corner it was still winter. It was the farthest corner of the
garden, and in it was standing a little boy. He was so small that he could not =
reach
up to the branches of the tree, and he was wandering all round it, crying
bitterly. The poor tree was s=
till
quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing and roari=
ng
above it. "Climb up! lit=
tle
boy," said the Tree, and it bent its branches down as low as it could;=
but
the boy was too tiny.
And the Giant's h=
eart
melted as he looked out. &quo=
t;How
selfish I have been!" he said; "now I know why the Spring would n=
ot
come here. I will put that po=
or
little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock down the wall, and=
my
garden shall be the children's playground for ever and ever." He was really very sorry for what =
he had
done.
So he crept
downstairs and opened the front door quite softly, and went out into the
garden. But when the children=
saw
him they were so frightened that they all ran away, and the garden became
winter again. Only the little=
boy
did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that he did not see the Gia=
nt
coming. And the Giant stole up
behind him and took him gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree. And the tree broke at once into bl=
ossom,
and the birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two
arms and flung them round the Giant's neck, and kissed him. And the other children, when they =
saw
that the Giant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and with them =
came
the Spring. "It is your =
garden
now, little children," said the Giant, and he took a great axe and kno=
cked
down the wall. And when the p=
eople
were going to market at twelve o'clock they found the Giant playing with the
children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen.
All day long they
played, and in the evening they came to the Giant to bid him good-bye.
"But where is
your little companion?" he said:
"the boy I put into the tree." The Giant loved him the best becau=
se he
had kissed him.
"We don't
know," answered the children; "he has gone away."
"You must te=
ll
him to be sure and come here to-morrow," said the Giant. But the children said that they di=
d not
know where he lived, and had never seen him before; and the Giant felt very
sad.
Every afternoon, =
when
school was over, the children came and played with the Giant. But the little boy whom the Giant =
loved
was never seen again. The Gia=
nt was
very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his first little friend, a=
nd
often spoke of him. "How=
I would
like to see him!" he used to say.
Years went over, =
and
the Giant grew very old and feeble.
He could not play about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair, and
watched the children at their games, and admired his garden. "I have many beautiful
flowers," he said; "but the children are the most beautiful flowe=
rs
of all."
One winter mornin=
g he
looked out of his window as he was dressing. He did not hate the Winter now,
for he knew that it was merely the Spring asleep, and that the flowers were
resting.
Suddenly he rubbed
his eyes in wonder, and looked and looked.=
It certainly was a marvellous sight. In the farthest corner of the gard=
en was
a tree quite covered with lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and =
silver
fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood the little boy he had lo=
ved.
Downstairs ran the
Giant in great joy, and out into the garden. He hastened across the grass, and =
came
near to the child. And when h=
e came
quite close his face grew red with anger, and he said, "Who hath dared=
to
wound thee?" For on the =
palms
of the child's hands were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two na=
ils
were on the little feet.
"Who hath da=
red
to wound thee?" cried the Giant; "tell me, that I may take my big
sword and slay him."
"Nay!"
answered the child; "but these are the wounds of Love."
"Who art
thou?" said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt bef=
ore
the little child.
And the child smi=
led
on the Giant, and said to him, "You let me play once in your garden,
to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise."
And when the chil=
dren
ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all
covered with white blossoms.
One morning the o=
ld
Water-rat put his head out of his hole.&nb=
sp;
He had bright beady eyes and stiff grey whiskers and his tail was li=
ke a
long bit of black india-rubber. The
little ducks were swimming about in the pond, looking just like a lot of ye=
llow
canaries, and their mother, who was pure white with real red legs, was tryi=
ng
to teach them how to stand on their heads in the water. "You will ne=
ver
be in the best society unless you can stand on your heads," she kept s=
aying
to them; and every now and then she showed them how it was done. But the little ducks paid no atten=
tion
to her. They were so young th=
at
they did not know what an advantage it is to be in society at all. "What
disobedient children!" cried the old Water-rat; "they really dese=
rve
to be drowned." "Nothing of =
the
kind," answered the Duck, "every one must make a beginning, and
parents cannot be too patient." "Ah! I know
nothing about the feelings of parents," said the Water- rat; "I am
not a family man. In fact, I =
have
never been married, and I never intend to be. Love is all very well in its way, =
but friendship
is much higher. Indeed, I kno=
w of
nothing in the world that is either nobler or rarer than a devoted
friendship." "And what, p=
ray,
is your idea of the duties of a devoted friend?" asked a Green Linnet,=
who
was sitting in a willow-tree hard by, and had overheard the conversation. "Yes, that is
just what I want to know," said the Duck; and she swam away to the end=
of
the pond, and stood upon her head, in order to give her children a good
example. "What a silly
question!" cried the Water-rat.
"I should expect my devoted friend to be devoted to me, of
course." "And what wo=
uld
you do in return?" said the little bird, swinging upon a silver spray,=
and
flapping his tiny wings. "I don't
understand you," answered the Water-rat. "Let me tell=
you
a story on the subject," said the Linnet. "Is the story
about me?" asked the Water-rat.
"If so, I will listen to it, for I am extremely fond of
fiction." "It is
applicable to you," answered the Linnet; and he flew down, and alighti=
ng
upon the bank, he told the story of The Devoted Friend. "Once upon a
time," said the Linnet, "there was an honest little fellow named
Hans." "Was he very
distinguished?" asked the Water-rat. "No,"
answered the Linnet, "I don't think he was distinguished at all, except
for his kind heart, and his funny round good-humoured face. He lived in a tiny cottage all by
himself, and every day he worked in his garden. In all the country-side there was =
no
garden so lovely as his.
Sweet-william grew there, and Gilly-flowers, and Shepherds'-purses, =
and
Fair-maids of France. There w=
ere
damask Roses, and yellow Roses, lilac Crocuses, and gold, purple Violets and
white. Columbine and Ladysmoc=
k,
Marjoram and Wild Basil, the Cowslip and the Flower-de-luce, the Daffodil a=
nd
the Clove-Pink bloomed or blossomed in their proper order as the months went
by, one flower taking another flower's place, so that there were always bea=
utiful
things to look at, and pleasant odours to smell. "Little Hans=
had
a great many friends, but the most devoted friend of all was big Hugh the
Miller. Indeed, so devoted wa=
s the
rich Miller to little Hans, that be would never go by his garden without le=
aning
over the wall and plucking a large nosegay, or a handful of sweet herbs, or
filling his pockets with plums and cherries if it was the fruit season. "'Real frien=
ds
should have everything in common,' the Miller used to say, and little Hans
nodded and smiled, and felt very proud of having a friend with such noble
ideas. "Sometimes,
indeed, the neighbours thought it strange that the rich Miller never gave
little Hans anything in return, though he had a hundred sacks of flour stor=
ed
away in his mill, and six milch cows, and a large flock of woolly sheep; but
Hans never troubled his head about these things, and nothing gave him great=
er
pleasure than to listen to all the wonderful things the Miller used to say
about the unselfishness of true friendship. "So little H=
ans
worked away in his garden. Du=
ring
the spring, the summer, and the autumn he was very happy, but when the wint=
er
came, and he had no fruit or flowers to bring to the market, he suffered a =
good
deal from cold and hunger, and often had to go to bed without any supper bu=
t a
few dried pears or some hard nuts.
In the winter, also, he was extremely lonely, as the Miller never ca=
me
to see him then. "'There is no
good in my going to see little Hans as long as the snow lasts,' the Miller =
used
to say to his wife, 'for when people are in trouble they should be left alo=
ne,
and not be bothered by visitors.
That at least is my idea about friendship, and I am sure I am
right. So I shall wait till t=
he
spring comes, and then I shall pay him a visit, and he will be able to give=
me
a large basket of primroses and that will make him so happy.' "'You are
certainly very thoughtful about others,' answered the Wife, as she sat in h=
er
comfortable armchair by the big pinewood fire; 'very thoughtful indeed. It is quite a treat to hear you ta=
lk
about friendship. I am sure t=
he
clergyman himself could not say such beautiful things as you do, though he =
does
live in a three-storied house, and wear a gold ring on his little finger.'<=
o:p> "'But could =
we
not ask little Hans up here?' said the Miller's youngest son. 'If poor Hans is in trouble I will=
give
him half my porridge, and show him my white rabbits.' "'What a sil=
ly
boy you are'! cried the Miller; 'I really don't know what is the use of sen=
ding
you to school. You seem not to
learn anything. Why, if littl=
e Hans
came up here, and saw our warm fire, and our good supper, and our great cas=
k of
red wine, he might get envious, and envy is a most terrible thing, and would
spoil anybody's nature. I cer=
tainly
will not allow Hans' nature to be spoiled.=
I am his best friend, and I will always watch over him, and see that=
he
is not led into any temptations.
Besides, if Hans came here, he might ask me to let him have some flo=
ur
on credit, and that I could not do.
Flour is one thing, and friendship is another, and they should not be
confused. Why, the words are =
spelt differently,
and mean quite different things.
Everybody can see that.' "'How well y=
ou
talk'! said the Miller's Wife, pouring herself out a large glass of warm al=
e;
'really I feel quite drowsy. =
It is
just like being in church.' "'Lots of pe=
ople
act well,' answered the Miller; 'but very few people talk well, which shows
that talking is much the more difficult thing of the two, and much the finer
thing also'; and he looked sternly across the table at his little son, who =
felt
so ashamed of himself that he hung his head down, and grew quite scarlet, a=
nd
began to cry into his tea. Ho=
wever,
he was so young that you must excuse him." "Is that the=
end
of the story?" asked the Water-rat. "Certainly
not," answered the Linnet, "that is the beginning." "Then you are
quite behind the age," said the Water-rat. "Every good story-teller nowa=
days
starts with the end, and then goes on to the beginning, and concludes with =
the
middle. That is the new metho=
d. I heard all about it the other day=
from
a critic who was walking round the pond with a young man. He spoke of the matter at great le=
ngth,
and I am sure he must have been right, for he had blue spectacles and a bald
head, and whenever the young man made any remark, he always answered
'Pooh!' But pray go on with y=
our story. I like the Miller immensely. I have all kinds of beautiful sent=
iments
myself, so there is a great sympathy between us." "Well,"
said the Linnet, hopping now on one leg and now on the other, "as soon=
as
the winter was over, and the primroses began to open their pale yellow star=
s,
the Miller said to his wife that he would go down and see little Hans. "'Why, what a
good heart you have'! cried his Wife; 'you are always thinking of others. And mind you take the big basket w=
ith
you for the flowers.'
"So the Mill=
er
tied the sails of the windmill together with a strong iron chain, and went =
down
the hill with the basket on his arm.
"'Good morni=
ng,
little Hans,' said the Miller.
"'Good morni=
ng,'
said Hans, leaning on his spade, and smiling from ear to ear.
"'And how ha=
ve
you been all the winter?' said the Miller.
"'Well, real=
ly,'
cried Hans, 'it is very good of you to ask, very good indeed. I am afraid I had rather a hard ti=
me of
it, but now the spring has come, and I am quite happy, and all my flowers a=
re doing
well.'
"'We often
talked of you during the winter, Hans,' said the Miller, 'and wondered how =
you
were getting on.'
"'That was k=
ind
of you,' said Hans; 'I was half afraid you had forgotten me.'
"'Hans, I am
surprised at you,' said the Miller; 'friendship never forgets. That is the wonderful thing about =
it,
but I am afraid you don't understand the poetry of life. How lovely your primroses are look=
ing,
by-the-bye"!
"'They are
certainly very lovely,' said Hans, 'and it is a most lucky thing for me tha=
t I
have so many. I am going to b=
ring
them into the market and sell them to the Burgomaster's daughter, and buy b=
ack
my wheelbarrow with the money.'
"'Buy back y=
our
wheelbarrow? You don't mean t=
o say
you have sold it? What a very
stupid thing to do'!
"'Well, the =
fact
is,' said Hans, 'that I was obliged to.&nb=
sp;
You see the winter was a very bad time for me, and I really had no m=
oney
at all to buy bread with. So I
first sold the silver buttons off my Sunday coat, and then I sold my silver
chain, and then I sold my big pipe, and at last I sold my wheelbarrow. But I am going to buy them all back
again now.'
"'Hans,' said
the Miller, 'I will give you my wheelbarrow. It is not in very good repair; ind=
eed,
one side is gone, and there is something wrong with the wheel-spokes; but in
spite of that I will give it to you.
I know it is very generous of me, and a great many people would thin=
k me
extremely foolish for parting with it, but I am not like the rest of the
world. I think that generosit=
y is
the essence of friendship, and, besides, I have got a new wheelbarrow for
myself. Yes, you may set your=
mind
at ease, I will give you my wheelbarrow.'
"'Well, real=
ly,
that is generous of you,' said little Hans, and his funny round face glowed=
all
over with pleasure. 'I can ea=
sily
put it in repair, as I have a plank of wood in the house.'
"'A plank of
wood'! said the Miller; 'why, that is just what I want for the roof of my
barn. There is a very large h=
ole in
it, and the corn will all get damp if I don't stop it up. How lucky you mentioned it! It is quite remarkable how one good
action always breeds another. I
have given you my wheelbarrow, and now you are going to give me your plank.=
Of course, the wheelbarrow is wort=
h far
more than the plank, but true, friendship never notices things like that. Pray get it at once, and I will se=
t to
work at my barn this very day.'
"'Certainly,'
cried little Hans, and he ran into the shed and dragged the plank out.
"'It is not a
very big plank,' said the Miller, looking at it, 'and I am afraid that afte=
r I
have mended my barn-roof there won't be any left for you to mend the
wheelbarrow with; but, of course, that is not my fault. And now, as I have given you my
wheelbarrow, I am sure you would like to give me some flowers in return.
"'Quite full=
?'
said little Hans, rather sorrowfully, for it was really a very big basket, =
and
he knew that if he filled it he would have no flowers left for the market a=
nd
he was very anxious to get his silver buttons back.
"'Well, real=
ly,'
answered the Miller, 'as I have given you my wheelbarrow, I don't think tha=
t it
is much to ask you for a few flowers.
I may be wrong, but I should have thought that friendship, true
friendship, was quite free from selfishness of any kind.'
"'My dear
friend, my best friend,' cried little Hans, 'you are welcome to all the flo=
wers
in my garden. I would much so=
oner
have your good opinion than my silver buttons, any day'; and he ran and plu=
cked
all his pretty primroses, and filled the Miller's basket.
"'Good-bye,
little Hans,' said the Miller, as he went up the hill with the plank on his
shoulder, and the big basket in his hand.
"'Good-bye,'
said little Hans, and he began to dig away quite merrily, he was so pleased
about the wheelbarrow.
"The next da=
y he
was nailing up some honeysuckle against the porch, when he heard the Miller=
's
voice calling to him from the road.
So he jumped off the ladder, and ran down the garden, and looked ove=
r the
wall.
"There was t=
he
Miller with a large sack of flour on his back.
"'Dear little
Hans,' said the Miller, 'would you mind carrying this sack of flour for me =
to
market?'
"'Oh, I am so
sorry,' said Hans, 'but I am really very busy to-day. I have got all my
creepers to nail up, and all my flowers to water, and all my grass to roll.=
'
"'Well, real=
ly,'
said the Miller, 'I think that, considering that I am going to give you my
wheelbarrow, it is rather unfriendly of you to refuse.'
"'Oh, don't = say that,' cried little Hans, 'I wouldn't be unfriendly for the whole world'; a= nd he ran in for his cap, and trudged off with the big sack on his shoulders.<= o:p>
"It was a ve=
ry
hot day, and the road was terribly dusty, and before Hans had reached the s=
ixth
milestone he was so tired that he had to sit down and rest. However, he went on bravely, and a=
s last
he reached the market. After =
he had
waited there some time, he sold the sack of flour for a very good price, and
then he returned home at once, for he was afraid that if he stopped too lat=
e he
might meet some robbers on the way.
"'It has
certainly been a hard day,' said little Hans to himself as he was going to =
bed,
'but I am glad I did not refuse the Miller, for he is my best friend, and,
besides, he is going to give me his wheelbarrow.'
"Early the n=
ext
morning the Miller came down to get the money for his sack of flour, but li=
ttle
Hans was so tired that he was still in bed.
"'Upon my wo=
rd,'
said the Miller, 'you are very lazy.
Really, considering that I am going to give you my wheelbarrow, I th=
ink
you might work harder. Idlene=
ss is
a great sin, and I certainly don't like any of my friends to be idle or
sluggish. You must not mind my
speaking quite plainly to you. Of
course I should not dream of doing so if I were not your friend. But what is the good of friendship=
if
one cannot say exactly what one means?&nbs=
p;
Anybody can say charming things and try to please and to flatter, bu=
t a
true friend always says unpleasant things, and does not mind giving pain. Indeed, if he is a really true fri=
end he
prefers it, for he knows that then he is doing good.'
"'I am very
sorry,' said little Hans, rubbing his eyes and pulling off his night-cap, '=
but
I was so tired that I thought I would lie in bed for a little time, and lis=
ten
to the birds singing. Do you =
know
that I always work better after hearing the birds sing?'
"'Well, I am
glad of that,' said the Miller, clapping little Hans on the back, 'for I wa=
nt
you to come up to the mill as soon as you are dressed, and mend my barn-roof
for me.'
"Poor little
Hans was very anxious to go and work in his garden, for his flowers had not
been watered for two days, but he did not like to refuse the Miller, as he =
was
such a good friend to him.
"'Do you thi=
nk
it would be unfriendly of me if I said I was busy?' he inquired in a shy and
timid voice.
"'Well, real=
ly,'
answered the Miller, 'I do not think it is much to ask of you, considering =
that
I am going to give you my wheelbarrow; but of course if you refuse I will go
and do it myself.'
"'Oh! on no
account,' cried little Hans and he jumped out of bed, and dressed himself, =
and
went up to the barn.
"He worked t=
here
all day long, till sunset, and at sunset the Miller came to see how he was
getting on.
"'Have you
mended the hole in the roof yet, little Hans?' cried the Miller in a cheery
voice.
"'It is quite
mended,' answered little Hans, coming down the ladder.
"'Ah'! said =
the
Miller, 'there is no work so delightful as the work one does for others.'
"'It is
certainly a great privilege to hear you talk,' answered little Hans, sitting
down, and wiping his forehead, 'a very great privilege. But I am afraid I shall never have=
such
beautiful ideas as you have.'
"'Oh! they w=
ill
come to you,' said the Miller, 'but you must take more pains. At present you have only the pract=
ice of
friendship; some day you will have the theory also.'
"'Do you rea=
lly
think I shall?' asked little Hans.
"'I have no
doubt of it,' answered the Miller, 'but now that you have mended the roof, =
you
had better go home and rest, for I want you to drive my sheep to the mounta=
in
to-morrow.'
"Poor little
Hans was afraid to say anything to this, and early the next morning the Mil=
ler
brought his sheep round to the cottage, and Hans started off with them to t=
he
mountain. It took him the who=
le day
to get there and back; and when he returned he was so tired that he went of=
f to
sleep in his chair, and did not wake up till it was broad daylight.
"'What a
delightful time I shall have in my garden,' he said, and he went to work at
once.
"But somehow=
he
was never able to look after his flowers at all, for his friend the Miller =
was
always coming round and sending him off on long errands, or getting him to =
help
at the mill. Little Hans was =
very
much distressed at times, as he was afraid his flowers would think he had
forgotten them, but he consoled himself by the reflection that the Miller w=
as
his best friend. 'Besides,' h=
e used
to say, 'he is going to give me his wheelbarrow, and that is an act of pure
generosity.'
"So little H=
ans
worked away for the Miller, and the Miller said all kinds of beautiful thin=
gs
about friendship, which Hans took down in a note-book, and used to read ove=
r at
night, for he was a very good scholar.
"Now it happ=
ened
that one evening little Hans was sitting by his fireside when a loud rap ca=
me
at the door. It was a very wi=
ld night,
and the wind was blowing and roaring round the house so terribly that at fi=
rst
he thought it was merely the storm.
But a second rap came, and then a third, louder than any of the othe=
rs.
"'It is some
poor traveller,' said little Hans to himself, and he ran to the door.
"There stood=
the
Miller with a lantern in one hand and a big stick in the other.
"'Dear little
Hans,' cried the Miller, 'I am in great trouble. My little boy has fallen off a lad=
der
and hurt himself, and I am going for the Doctor. But he lives so far away, and it i=
s such
a bad night, that it has just occurred to me that it would be much better if
you went instead of me. You k=
now I
am going to give you my wheelbarrow, and so, it is only fair that you shoul=
d do
something for me in return.'
"'Certainly,'
cried little Hans, 'I take it quite as a compliment your coming to me, and I
will start off at once. But y=
ou
must lend me your lantern, as the night is so dark that I am afraid I might=
fall
into the ditch.'
"'I am very
sorry,' answered the Miller, 'but it is my new lantern, and it would be a g=
reat
loss to me if anything happened to it.'
"'Well, never
mind, I will do without it,' cried little Hans, and he took down his great =
fur
coat, and his warm scarlet cap, and tied a muffler round his throat, and
started off.
"What a drea=
dful
storm it was! The night was so
black that little Hans could hardly see, and the wind was so strong that he
could scarcely stand. However=
, he
was very courageous, and after he had been walking about three hours, he
arrived at the Doctor's house, and knocked at the door.
"'Who is the=
re?'
cried the Doctor, putting his head out of his bedroom window.
"'Little Han=
s,
Doctor.'
"'What do you
want, little Hans?'
"'The Miller=
's
son has fallen from a ladder, and has hurt himself, and the Miller wants yo=
u to
come at once.'
"'All right!'
said the Doctor; and he ordered his horse, and his big boots, and his lante=
rn,
and came downstairs, and rode off in the direction of the Miller's house,
little Hans trudging behind him.
"But the sto=
rm
grew worse and worse, and the rain fell in torrents, and little Hans could =
not
see where he was going, or keep up with the horse. At last he lost his way, and wande=
red
off on the moor, which was a very dangerous place, as it was full of deep
holes, and there poor little Hans was drowned. His body was found the next day by=
some
goatherds, floating in a great pool of water, and was brought back by them =
to
the cottage.
"Everybody w=
ent
to little Hans' funeral, as he was so popular, and the Miller was the chief
mourner.
"'As I was h=
is
best friend,' said the Miller, 'it is only fair that I should have the best=
place';
so he walked at the head of the procession in a long black cloak, and every=
now
and then he wiped his eyes with a big pocket-handkerchief.
"'Little Han=
s is
certainly a great loss to every one,' said the Blacksmith, when the funeral=
was
over, and they were all seated comfortably in the inn, drinking spiced wine=
and
eating sweet cakes.
"'A great lo=
ss
to me at any rate,' answered the Miller; 'why, I had as good as given him my
wheelbarrow, and now I really don't know what to do with it. It is very much in my way at home,=
and
it is in such bad repair that I could not get anything for it if I sold it.=
I will certainly take care not to =
give
away anything again. One always suffers for being generous.'"
"Well?"
said the Water-rat, after a long pause.
"Well, that =
is
the end," said the Linnet.
"But what be=
came
of the Miller?" asked the Water-rat.
"Oh! I really don't know," replied=
the
Linnet; "and I am sure that I don't care."
"It is quite
evident then that you have no sympathy in your nature," said the
Water-rat.
"I am afraid=
you
don't quite see the moral of the story," remarked the Linnet.
"The what?&q=
uot;
screamed the Water-rat.
"The
moral."
"Do you mean=
to
say that the story has a moral?"
"Certainly,&=
quot;
said the Linnet.
"Well,
really," said the Water-rat, in a very angry manner, "I think you
should have told me that before you began.=
If you had done so, I certainly would not have listened to you; in f=
act,
I should have said 'Pooh,' like the critic. However, I can say it now"; s=
o he
shouted out "Pooh" at the top of his voice, gave a whisk with his
tail, and went back into his hole.
"And how do =
you
like the Water-rat?" asked the Duck, who came paddling up some minutes
afterwards. "He has a gr=
eat
many good points, but for my own part I have a mother's feelings, and I can=
never
look at a confirmed bachelor without the tears coming into my eyes."
"I am rather
afraid that I have annoyed him," answered the Linnet. "The fact i=
s,
that I told him a story with a moral."
"Ah! that is
always a very dangerous thing to do," said the Duck.
And I quite agree
with her.
The King's son was
going to be married, so there were general rejoicings. He had waited a whole year for his
bride, and at last she had arrived.
She was a Russian Princess, and had driven all the way from Finland =
in a
sledge drawn by six reindeer. The
sledge was shaped like a great golden swan, and between the swan's wings lay
the little Princess herself. =
Her
long ermine-cloak reached right down to her feet, on her head was a tiny ca=
p of
silver tissue, and she was as pale as the Snow Palace in which she had alwa=
ys
lived. So pale was she that a=
s she
drove through the streets all the people wondered. "She is like a white rose!&qu=
ot;
they cried, and they threw down flowers on her from the balconies.
At the gate of the
Castle the Prince was waiting to receive her. He had dreamy violet eyes, and
his hair was like fine gold. =
When he
saw her he sank upon one knee, and kissed her hand.
"Your picture
was beautiful," he murmured, "but you are more beautiful than your
picture"; and the little Princess blushed.
"She was lik=
e a
white rose before," said a young Page to his neighbour, "but she =
is
like a red rose now"; and the whole Court was delighted.
For the next three
days everybody went about saying, "White rose, Red rose, Red rose, Whi=
te
rose"; and the King gave orders that the Page's salary was to be
doubled. As he received no sa=
lary
at all this was not of much use to him, but it was considered a great honou=
r,
and was duly published in the Court Gazette.
When the three da=
ys
were over the marriage was celebrated.&nbs=
p;
It was a magnificent ceremony, and the bride and bridegroom walked h=
and
in hand under a canopy of purple velvet embroidered with little pearls. Then there was a State Banquet, wh=
ich
lasted for five hours. The Pr=
ince
and Princess sat at the top of the Great Hall and drank out of a cup of cle=
ar
crystal. Only true lovers cou=
ld drink
out of this cup, for if false lips touched it, it grew grey and dull and
cloudy.
"It's quite
clear that they love each other," said the little Page, "as clear=
as
crystal!" and the King doubled his salary a second time. "What an honour!" cried =
all
the courtiers.
After the banquet
there was to be a Ball. The b=
ride
and bridegroom were to dance the Rose-dance together, and the King had prom=
ised
to play the flute. He played =
very
badly, but no one had ever dared to tell him so, because he was the King. Indeed, he knew only two airs, and=
was
never quite certain which one he was playing; but it made no matter, for,
whatever he did, everybody cried out, "Charming! charming!"
The last item on =
the
programme was a grand display of fireworks, to be let off exactly at
midnight. The little Princess=
had
never seen a firework in her life, so the King had given orders that the Ro=
yal Pyrotechnist
should be in attendance on the day of her marriage.
"What are
fireworks like?" she had asked the Prince, one morning, as she was wal=
king
on the terrace.
"They are li=
ke
the Aurora Borealis," said the King, who always answered questions that
were addressed to other people, "only much more natural. I prefer them to stars myself, as =
you
always know when they are going to appear, and they are as delightful as my=
own
flute-playing. You must certa=
inly
see them."
So at the end of =
the
King's garden a great stand had been set up, and as soon as the Royal
Pyrotechnist had put everything in its proper place, the fireworks began to
talk to each other.
"The world is
certainly very beautiful," cried a little Squib. "Just look at th=
ose
yellow tulips. Why! if they w=
ere
real crackers they could not be lovelier.&=
nbsp;
I am very glad I have travelled. Travel improves the mind wonderfull=
y,
and does away with all one's prejudices."
"The King's
garden is not the world, you foolish squib," said a big Roman Candle;
"the world is an enormous place, and it would take you three days to s=
ee
it thoroughly."
"Any place y=
ou
love is the world to you," exclaimed a pensive Catherine Wheel, who had
been attached to an old deal box in early life, and prided herself on her
broken heart; "but love is not fashionable any more, the poets have ki=
lled
it. They wrote so much about =
it
that nobody believed them, and I am not surprised. True love suffers, and is silent.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> I remember myself once--But it is =
no matter
now. Romance is a thing of the
past."
"Nonsense!&q=
uot;
said the Roman Candle, "Romance never dies. It is like the moon, and lives for
ever. The bride and bridegroo=
m, for
instance, love each other very dearly.&nbs=
p;
I heard all about them this morning from a brown-paper cartridge, who
happened to be staying in the same drawer as myself, and knew the latest Co=
urt
news."
But the Catherine
Wheel shook her head. "R=
omance
is dead, Romance is dead, Romance is dead," she murmured. She was one of those people who th=
ink
that, if you say the same thing over and over a great many times, it becomes
true in the end.
Suddenly, a sharp,
dry cough was heard, and they all looked round.
It came from a ta=
ll,
supercilious-looking Rocket, who was tied to the end of a long stick. He always coughed before he made a=
ny observation,
so as to attract attention.
"Ahem!
ahem!" he said, and everybody listened except the poor Catherine Wheel,
who was still shaking her head, and murmuring, "Romance is dead."=
"Order!
order!" cried out a Cracker.
He was something of a politician, and had always taken a prominent p=
art
in the local elections, so he knew the proper Parliamentary expressions to =
use.
"Quite
dead," whispered the Catherine Wheel, and she went off to sleep.
As soon as there =
was perfect
silence, the Rocket coughed a third time and began. He spoke with a very slow, distinct
voice, as if he was dictating his memoirs, and always looked over the shoul=
der of
the person to whom he was talking.
In fact, he had a most distinguished manner.
"How fortuna=
te
it is for the King's son," he remarked, "that he is to be married=
on
the very day on which I am to be let off.&=
nbsp;
Really, if it had been arranged beforehand, it could not have turned=
out
better for him; but, Princes are always lucky."
"Dear me!&qu=
ot;
said the little Squib, "I thought it was quite the other way, and that=
we
were to be let off in the Prince's honour."
"It may be so
with you," he answered; "indeed, I have no doubt that it is, but =
with
me it is different. I am a ve=
ry
remarkable Rocket, and come of remarkable parents. My mother was the most celebrated =
Catherine
Wheel of her day, and was renowned for her graceful dancing. When she made her great public
appearance she spun round nineteen times before she went out, and each time=
that
she did so she threw into the air seven pink stars. She was three feet and a half in
diameter, and made of the very best gunpowder. My father was a Rocket like myself=
, and
of French extraction. He flew=
so high
that the people were afraid that he would never come down again. He did, though, for he was of a ki=
ndly
disposition, and he made a most brilliant descent in a shower of golden
rain. The newspapers wrote ab=
out
his performance in very flattering terms. Indeed, the Court Gazette called =
him
a triumph of Pylotechnic art."
"Pyrotechnic,
Pyrotechnic, you mean," said a Bengal Light; "I know it is
Pyrotechnic, for I saw it written on my own canister."
"Well, I said
Pylotechnic," answered the Rocket, in a severe tone of voice, and the
Bengal Light felt so crushed that he began at once to bully the little squi=
bs,
in order to show that he was still a person of some importance.
"I was
saying," continued the Rocket, "I was saying--What was I saying?&=
quot;
"You were
talking about yourself," replied the Roman Candle.
"Of course; I
knew I was discussing some interesting subject when I was so rudely
interrupted. I hate rudeness =
and
bad manners of every kind, for I am extremely sensitive. No one in the whole world is so
sensitive as I am, I am quite sure of that."
"What is a
sensitive person?" said the Cracker to the Roman Candle.
"A person wh=
o,
because he has corns himself, always treads on other people's toes,"
answered the Roman Candle in a low whisper; and the Cracker nearly exploded
with laughter.
"Pray, what = are you laughing at?" inquired the Rocket; "I am not laughing."<= o:p>
"I am laughi=
ng
because I am happy," replied the Cracker.
"That is a v=
ery
selfish reason," said the Rocket angrily. "What right have you to be
happy? You should be thinking=
about
others. In fact, you should be thinking about me. I am always thinking about myself,=
and I
expect everybody else to do the same.
That is what is called sympathy.&nb=
sp;
It is a beautiful virtue, and I possess it in a high degree. Suppose, for instance, anything ha=
ppened
to me to-night, what a misfortune that would be for every one! The Prince and Princess would neve=
r be
happy again, their whole married life would be spoiled; and as for the King=
, I
know he would not get over it.
Really, when I begin to reflect on the importance of my position, I =
am
almost moved to tears."
"If you want=
to
give pleasure to others," cried the Roman Candle, "you had better
keep yourself dry."
"Certainly,&=
quot;
exclaimed the Bengal Light, who was now in better spirits; "that is on=
ly
common sense."
"Common sens=
e,
indeed!" said the Rocket indignantly; "you forget that I am very
uncommon, and very remarkable. Why,
anybody can have common sense, provided that they have no imagination. But I have imagination, for I never
think of things as they really are; I always think of them as being quite
different. As for keeping mys=
elf
dry, there is evidently no one here who can at all appreciate an emotional
nature. Fortunately for mysel=
f, I
don't care. The only thing th=
at
sustains one through life is the consciousness of the immense inferiority of
everybody else, and this is a feeling that I have always cultivated. But none of you have any hearts. Here you are laughing and making m=
erry
just as if the Prince and Princess had not just been married."
"Well,
really," exclaimed a small Fire-balloon, "why not? It is a most joyful occasion, and =
when I
soar up into the air I intend to tell the stars all about it. You will see them twinkle when I t=
alk to
them about the pretty bride."
"Ah! what a
trivial view of life!" said the Rocket; "but it is only what I
expected. There is nothing in=
you;
you are hollow and empty. Why,
perhaps the Prince and Princess may go to live in a country where there is a
deep river, and perhaps they may have one only son, a little fair-haired boy
with violet eyes like the Prince himself; and perhaps some day he may go ou=
t to
walk with his nurse; and perhaps the nurse may go to sleep under a great
elder-tree; and perhaps the little boy may fall into the deep river and be
drowned. What a terrible misfortune!
Poor people, to lose their only son! It is really too dreadful! I shall never get over it."
"But they ha=
ve
not lost their only son," said the Roman Candle; "no misfortune h=
as
happened to them at all."
"I never said
that they had," replied the Rocket; "I said that they might. If they had lost their only son th=
ere
would be no use in saying anything more about the matter. I hate people who cry over spilt
milk. But when I think that t=
hey
might lose their only son, I certainly am very much affected."
"You certain=
ly
are!" cried the Bengal Light.
"In fact, you are the most affected person I ever met."
"You are the
rudest person I ever met," said the Rocket, "and you cannot
understand my friendship for the Prince."
"Why, you do=
n't
even know him," growled the Roman Candle.
"I never sai=
d I
knew him," answered the Rocket.
"I dare say that if I knew him I should not be his friend at
all. It is a very dangerous t=
hing
to know one's friends."
"You had rea=
lly
better keep yourself dry," said the Fire-balloon. "That is the
important thing."
"Very import=
ant
for you, I have no doubt," answered the Rocket, "but I shall weep=
if
I choose"; and he actually burst into real tears, which flowed down his
stick like rain-drops, and nearly drowned two little beetles, who were just
thinking of setting up house together, and were looking for a nice dry spot=
to
live in.
"He must hav=
e a
truly romantic nature," said the Catherine Wheel, "for he weeps w=
hen
there is nothing at all to weep about"; and she heaved a deep sigh, and
thought about the deal box.
But the Roman Can=
dle
and the Bengal Light were quite indignant, and kept saying, "Humbug!
humbug!" at the top of their voices.&=
nbsp;
They were extremely practical, and whenever they objected to anythin=
g they
called it humbug.
Then the moon rose
like a wonderful silver shield; and the stars began to shine, and a sound of
music came from the palace.
The Prince and
Princess were leading the dance.
They danced so beautifully that the tall white lilies peeped in at t=
he
window and watched them, and the great red poppies nodded their heads and b=
eat time.
Then ten o'clock
struck, and then eleven, and then twelve, and at the last stroke of midnight
every one came out on the terrace, and the King sent for the Royal
Pyrotechnist.
"Let the
fireworks begin," said the King; and the Royal Pyrotechnist made a low
bow, and marched down to the end of the garden. He had six attendants with him, ea=
ch of
whom carried a lighted torch at the end of a long pole.
It was certainly a
magnificent display.
Whizz! Whizz! went
the Catherine Wheel, as she spun round and round. Boom! Boom! went the Roman Candle. Then the Squibs danced all over the
place, and the Bengal Lights made everything look scarlet. "Good-bye," cried the Fi=
re-balloon,
as he soared away, dropping tiny blue sparks. Bang! Bang! answered the Crackers,=
who were
enjoying themselves immensely.
Every one was a great success except the Remarkable Rocket. He was so damp with crying that he=
could
not go off at all. The best t=
hing
in him was the gunpowder, and that was so wet with tears that it was of no
use. All his poor relations, =
to
whom he would never speak, except with a sneer, shot up into the sky like
wonderful golden flowers with blossoms of fire. Huzza! Huzza! cried the Court; and=
the
little Princess laughed with pleasure.
"I suppose t=
hey
are reserving me for some grand occasion," said the Rocket; "no d=
oubt
that is what it means," and he looked more supercilious than ever.
The next day the
workmen came to put everything tidy.
"This is evidently a deputation," said the Rocket; "I
will receive them with becoming dignity" so he put his nose in the air,
and began to frown severely as if he were thinking about some very important
subject. But they took no notice of him at all till they were just going aw=
ay. Then one of them caught sight of
him. "Hallo!" he cr=
ied, "what
a bad rocket!" and he threw him over the wall into the ditch.
"BAD
Rocket? BAD Rocket?" he =
said,
as he whirled through the air; "impossible! GRAND Rocket, that is what the man
said. BAD and GRAND sound ver=
y much
the same, indeed they often are the same"; and he fell into the mud.
"It is not
comfortable here," he remarked, "but no doubt it is some fashiona=
ble
watering-place, and they have sent me away to recruit my health. My nerves are certainly very much
shattered, and I require rest."
Then a little Fro=
g,
with bright jewelled eyes, and a green mottled coat, swam up to him.
"A new arriv=
al,
I see!" said the Frog.
"Well, after all there is nothing like mud. Give me rainy weather and a ditch,=
and I
am quite happy. Do you think =
it
will be a wet afternoon? I am=
sure
I hope so, but the sky is quite blue and cloudless. What a pity!"
"Ahem!
ahem!" said the Rocket, and he began to cough.
"What a
delightful voice you have!" cried the Frog. "Really it is quite like a cr=
oak,
and croaking is of course the most musical sound in the world. You will hear our glee-club this
evening. We sit in the old du=
ck
pond close by the farmer's house, and as soon as the moon rises we begin. It is so entrancing that everybody=
lies
awake to listen to us. In fac=
t, it
was only yesterday that I heard the farmer's wife say to her mother that she
could not get a wink of sleep at night on account of us. It is most gratifying to find ones=
elf so
popular."
"Ahem!
ahem!" said the Rocket angrily.
He was very much annoyed that he could not get a word in.
"A delightful
voice, certainly," continued the Frog; "I hope you will come over=
to
the duck-pond. I am off to lo=
ok for
my daughters. I have six beau=
tiful
daughters, and I am so afraid the Pike may meet them. He is a perfect monster, and would=
have
no hesitation in breakfasting off them.&nb=
sp;
Well, good-bye: I have=
enjoyed
our conversation very much, I assure you."
"Conversatio=
n,
indeed!" said the Rocket.
"You have talked the whole time yourself. That is not conversation."
"Somebody mu=
st
listen," answered the Frog, "and I like to do all the talking
myself. It saves time, and pr=
events
arguments."
"But I like
arguments," said the Rocket.
"I hope
not," said the Frog complacently.&nbs=
p;
"Arguments are extremely vulgar, for everybody in good society
holds exactly the same opinions.
Good-bye a second time; I see my daughters in the distance and the
little Frog swam away.
"You are a v=
ery
irritating person," said the Rocket, "and very ill- bred. I hate people who talk about thems=
elves,
as you do, when one wants to talk about oneself, as I do. It is what I call selfishness, and
selfishness is a most detestable thing, especially to any one of my
temperament, for I am well known for my sympathetic nature. In fact, you should take example b=
y me;
you could not possibly have a better model. Now that you have the chance you h=
ad
better avail yourself of it, for I am going back to Court almost
immediately. I am a great fav=
ourite
at Court; in fact, the Prince and Princess were married yesterday in my hon=
our.
Of course you know nothing of these matters, for you are a provincial."=
;
"There is no
good talking to him," said a Dragon-fly, who was sitting on the top of=
a
large brown bulrush; "no good at all, for he has gone away."
"Well, that =
is
his loss, not mine," answered the Rocket. "I am not going to stop talki=
ng to
him merely because he pays no attention. I like hearing myself talk. It is one of my greatest pleasures=
. I often have long conversations al=
l by
myself, and I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word =
of
what I am saying."
"Then you sh=
ould
certainly lecture on Philosophy," said the Dragon- fly; and he spread a
pair of lovely gauze wings and soared away into the sky.
"How very si=
lly
of him not to stay here!" said the Rocket. "I am sure that he has not of=
ten
got such a chance of improving his mind. However, I don't care a bit. Genius like mine is sure to be app=
reciated
some day"; and he sank down a little deeper into the mud.
After some time a
large White Duck swam up to him.
She had yellow legs, and webbed feet, and was considered a great bea=
uty
on account of her waddle.
"Quack, quac=
k,
quack," she said. "=
What a
curious shape you are! May I ask were you born like that, or is it the resu=
lt
of an accident?"
"It is quite
evident that you have always lived in the country," answered the Rocke=
t,
"otherwise you would know who I am.&n=
bsp;
However, I excuse your ignorance.&n=
bsp;
It would be unfair to expect other people to be as remarkable as
oneself. You will no doubt be
surprised to hear that I can fly up into the sky, and come down in a shower=
of golden
rain."
"I don't thi=
nk
much of that," said the Duck, "as I cannot see what use it is to =
any
one. Now, if you could plough=
the
fields like the ox, or draw a cart like the horse, or look after the sheep =
like
the collie-dog, that would be something."
"My good
creature," cried the Rocket in a very haughty tone of voice, "I s=
ee
that you belong to the lower orders.
A person of my position is never useful. We have certain accomplishments, a=
nd that
is more than sufficient. I ha=
ve no
sympathy myself with industry of any kind, least of all with such industrie=
s as
you seem to recommend. Indeed=
, I
have always been of opinion that hard work is simply the refuge of people w=
ho
have nothing whatever to do."
"Well,
well," said the Duck, who was of a very peaceable disposition, and nev=
er
quarrelled with any one, "everybody has different tastes. I hope, at any rate, that you are =
going
to take up your residence here."
"Oh! dear
no," cried the Rocket. &=
quot;I
am merely a visitor, a distinguished visitor. The fact is that I find this place
rather tedious. There is neit=
her
society here, nor solitude. In
fact, it is essentially suburban. =
span>I
shall probably go back to Court, for I know that I am destined to make a
sensation in the world."
"I had thoug=
hts
of entering public life once myself," remarked the Duck; "there a=
re
so many things that need reforming.
Indeed, I took the chair at a meeting some time ago, and we passed r=
esolutions
condemning everything that we did not like. However, they did not seem to have=
much
effect. Now I go in for domes=
ticity,
and look after my family."
"I am made for public life,&qu=
ot;
said the Rocket, "and so are all my relations, even the humblest of
them. Whenever we appear we e=
xcite great
attention. I have not actually
appeared myself, but when I do so it will be a magnificent sight. As for domesticity, it ages one ra=
pidly,
and distracts one's mind from higher things."
"Ah! the hig=
her
things of life, how fine they are!" said the Duck; "and that remi=
nds
me how hungry I feel": a=
nd she
swam away down the stream, saying, "Quack, quack, quack."
"Come back! =
come
back!" screamed the Rocket, "I have a great deal to say to you&qu=
ot;;
but the Duck paid no attention to him.&nbs=
p;
"I am glad that she has gone," he said to himself, "s=
he
has a decidedly middle-class mind"; and he sank a little deeper still =
into
the mud, and began to think about the loneliness of genius, when suddenly t=
wo
little boys in white smocks came running down the bank, with a kettle and s=
ome
faggots.
"This must be
the deputation," said the Rocket, and he tried to look very dignified.=
"Hallo!"
cried one of the boys, "look at this old stick! I wonder how it came here"; a=
nd he
picked the rocket out of the ditch.
"OLD
Stick!" said the Rocket, "impossible! GOLD Stick, that is what he said.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Gold Stick is very complimentary.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> In fact, he mistakes me for one of=
the
Court dignitaries!"
"Let us put =
it
into the fire!" said the other boy, "it will help to boil the
kettle."
So they piled the
faggots together, and put the Rocket on top, and lit the fire.
"This is
magnificent," cried the Rocket, "they are going to let me off in
broad day-light, so that every one can see me."
"We will go =
to
sleep now," they said, "and when we wake up the kettle will be
boiled"; and they lay down on the grass, and shut their eyes.
The Rocket was ve=
ry
damp, so he took a long time to burn.
At last, however, the fire caught him.
"Now I am go=
ing
off!" he cried, and he made himself very stiff and straight. "I know I shall go much highe=
r than
the stars, much higher than the moon, much higher than the sun. In fact, I shall go so high that--=
"
Fizz! Fizz! Fizz!=
and
he went straight up into the air.
"Delightful!=
"
he cried, "I shall go on like this for ever. What a success I am!"
But nobody saw hi=
m.
Then he began to =
feel
a curious tingling sensation all over him.
"Now I am go=
ing
to explode," he cried. &=
quot;I
shall set the whole world on fire, and make such a noise that nobody will t=
alk
about anything else for a whole year." And he certainly did explode. Bang!
Bang! Bang! went the gunpowder.
There was no doubt about it.
But nobody heard =
him,
not even the two little boys, for they were sound asleep.
Then all that was
left of him was the stick, and this fell down on the back of a Goose who was
taking a walk by the side of the ditch.
"Good
heavens!" cried the Goose.
"It is going to rain sticks"; and she rushed into the wate=
r.
"I knew I sh=
ould
create a great sensation," gasped the Rocket, and he went out.