zimmer wände farblich gestalten

chapter 1 the happy prince high above the city, on a tall column,stood the statue of the happy prince. he was gilded all over with thin leaves offine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed onhis 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 havingartistic tastes; "only not quite so useful," he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, which hereally was not.

"why can't you be like the happy prince?"asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon. "the happy prince never dreams of cryingfor anything." "i am glad there is some one in the worldwho is quite happy," muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at thewonderful statue. "he looks just like an angel," said thecharity children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaksand their clean white pinafores. "how do you know?" said the mathematicalmaster, "you have never seen one." "ah! but we have, in our dreams," answeredthe children; and the mathematical master

frowned and looked very severe, for he didnot approve of children dreaming. one night there flew over the city a littleswallow. his friends had gone away to egypt sixweeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he was in love with the most beautifulreed. he had met her early in the spring as hewas flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracted byher slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her. "shall i love you?" said the swallow, wholiked to come to the point at once, and the reed made him a low bow.

so he flew round and round her, touchingthe water with his wings, and making silver ripples.this was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer. "it is a ridiculous attachment," twitteredthe other swallows; "she has no money, and far too many relations"; and indeed theriver was quite full of reeds. then, when the autumn came they all flewaway. after they had gone he felt lonely, andbegan to tire of his lady- love. "she has no conversation," he said, "and iam afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind."and certainly, whenever the wind blew, the

reed made the most graceful curtseys. "i admit that she is domestic," hecontinued, "but i love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should love travellingalso." "will you come away with me?" he saidfinally to her; but the reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home."you have been trifling with me," he cried. "i am off to the pyramids. good-bye!" and he flew away.all day long he flew, 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 golden bedroom," he said softlyto himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he wasputting his head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him. "what a curious thing!" he cried; "there isnot a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it israining. the climate in the north of europe isreally dreadful.

the reed used to like the rain, but thatwas merely her selfishness." then another drop fell. "what is the use of a statue if it cannotkeep the rain off?" he said; "i must look for a good chimney-pot," and he determinedto fly away. but before he had opened his wings, a thirddrop fell, and he looked up, and saw--ah! what did he see? the eyes of the happy prince were filledwith tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. his face was so beautiful in the moonlightthat the little swallow was filled with

pity."who are you?" he said. "i am the happy prince." "why are you weeping then?" asked theswallow; "you have quite drenched me." "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 ofsans- souci, where sorrow is not allowed to enter. in the daytime i played with my companionsin the garden, and in the evening i led the dance in the great hall. round the garden ran a very lofty wall, buti never cared to ask what lay beyond it,

everything about 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 set me uphere so high that i can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, andthough my heart is made of lead yet i cannot chose but weep." "what! is he not solid gold?" said theswallow to himself. he was too polite to make any personalremarks out loud. "far away," continued the statue in a lowmusical voice, "far away in a little street

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 hascoarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. she is embroidering passion- flowers on asatin gown for the loveliest of the queen's maids-of- honour to wear at the next court-ball. in a bed in the corner of the room herlittle boy is lying ill. he has a fever, and is asking for oranges.his mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying.

swallow, swallow, little swallow, will younot bring her the ruby out of my sword- hilt?my feet are fastened to this pedestal and i cannot move." "i am waited for in egypt," said theswallow. "my friends are flying up and down thenile, and talking to the large lotus- flowers. soon they will go to sleep in the tomb ofthe great king. the king is there himself in his paintedcoffin. he is wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmedwith spices.

round his neck is a chain of pale greenjade, and his hands are like withered leaves." "swallow, swallow, little swallow," saidthe prince, "will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger?the boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad." "i don't think i like boys," answered theswallow. "last summer, when i was staying on theriver, there were two rude boys, the miller's sons, who were always throwingstones at me. they never hit me, of course; we swallowsfly 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 prince looked so sad that thelittle swallow was sorry. "it is very cold here," he said; "but iwill stay with you for one night, and be your messenger." "thank you, little swallow," said theprince. so the swallow picked out the great rubyfrom the prince's sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town. he passed by the cathedral tower, where thewhite marble angels were sculptured. he passed by the palace and heard the soundof dancing.

a beautiful girl came out on the balconywith her lover. "how wonderful the stars are," he said toher, "and how wonderful is the power of love!" "i hope my dress will be ready in time forthe state-ball," she answered; "i have ordered passion-flowers to be embroideredon it; but the seamstresses are so lazy." he passed over the river, and saw thelanterns hanging to the masts of the ships. he passed over the ghetto, and saw the oldjews bargaining with each other, and weighing out money in copper scales. at last he came to the poor house andlooked in.

the boy was tossing feverishly on his bed,and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. in he hopped, and laid the great ruby onthe table beside the woman's thimble. then he flew gently round the bed, fanningthe boy's forehead with his wings. "how cool i feel," said the boy, "i must begetting better"; and he sank into a delicious slumber.then the swallow flew back to the happy prince, and told him what he had done. "it is curious," he remarked, "but i feelquite warm now, although it is so cold." "that is because you have done a goodaction," said the prince.

and the little swallow began to think, andthen he fell asleep. thinking always made him sleepy.when day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. "what a remarkable phenomenon," said theprofessor of ornithology as he was passing over the bridge."a swallow in winter!" and he wrote a long letter about it to thelocal newspaper. every one quoted it, it was full of so manywords 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, andsat a long time on top of the church

steeple. wherever he went the sparrows chirruped,and said to each other, "what a distinguished stranger!" so he enjoyedhimself very much. when the moon rose he flew back to thehappy prince. "have you any commissions for egypt?" hecried; "i am just starting." "swallow, swallow, little swallow," saidthe prince, "will you not stay with me one night longer?""i am waited for in egypt," answered the swallow. "to-morrow my friends will fly up to thesecond cataract.

the river-horse couches there among thebulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the god memnon. all night long he watches the stars, andwhen the morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent.at noon the yellow lions come down to the water's edge to drink. they have eyes like green beryls, and theirroar is louder than the roar of the cataract. "swallow, swallow, little swallow," saidthe prince, "far away across the city i see a young man in a garret.

he is leaning over a desk covered withpapers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. his hair is brown and crisp, and his lipsare red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. he is trying to finish a play for thedirector 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; "myeyes are all that i have left. they are made of rare sapphires, which werebrought 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 buyfood and firewood, and finish his play." "dear prince," said the swallow, "i cannotdo that"; and he began to weep. "swallow, swallow, little swallow," saidthe prince, "do as i command you." so the swallow plucked out the prince'seye, and flew away to the student's garret. it was easy enough to get in, as there wasa hole in the roof.

through this he darted, and came into theroom. the young man had his head buried in hishands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird's wings, and when he looked up hefound the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets. "i am beginning to be appreciated," hecried; "this is from some great admirer. now i can finish my play," and he lookedquite happy. the next day the swallow flew down to theharbour. he sat on the mast of a large vessel andwatched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes.

"heave a-hoy!" they shouted as each chestcame up. "i am going to egypt"! cried 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 with me onenight longer?" "it is winter," answered the swallow, "andthe chill snow will soon be here. in egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. my companions are building a nest in thetemple of baalbec, and the pink and white

doves are watching them, and cooing to eachother. dear prince, i must leave you, but i willnever forget you, and next spring i will bring you back two beautiful jewels inplace of those you have given away. the ruby shall be redder than a red rose,and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea.""in the square below," said the happy prince, "there stands a little match-girl. she has let her matches fall in the gutter,and they are all spoiled. her father will beat her if she does notbring home some money, and she is crying. she has no shoes or stockings, and herlittle head is bare.

pluck out my other eye, and give it 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." so he plucked out the prince's other eye,and darted down with it. he swooped past the match-girl, and slippedthe jewel into the palm of her hand. "what a lovely bit of glass," cried thelittle girl; and she ran home, laughing. then the swallow came back to the prince. "you are blind now," he said, "so i willstay with you always." "no, little swallow," said the poor prince,"you must go away to egypt."

"i will stay with you always," said theswallow, and he slept at the prince's feet. all the next day he sat on the prince'sshoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. he told him of the red ibises, who stand inlong rows on the banks of the nile, and catch gold-fish in their beaks; of thesphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walkslowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of theking of the mountains of the moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large

crystal; of the great green snake thatsleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes; and ofthe pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at warwith the butterflies. "dear little swallow," said the prince,"you tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything is the sufferingof men and of women. there is no mystery so great as misery. fly over my city, little swallow, and tellme what you see there." so the swallow flew over the great city,and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars weresitting at the gates.

he flew into dark lanes, and saw the whitefaces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. under the archway of a bridge two littleboys were lying in one another's arms to try and keep themselves warm."how hungry we are!" they said. "you must not lie here," shouted thewatchman, 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 theprince, "you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the livingalways think that gold can make them

happy." leaf after leaf of the fine gold theswallow picked off, till the happy prince looked quite dull and grey. leaf after leaf of the fine gold he broughtto the poor, and the children's faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played gamesin the street. "we have bread now!" they cried. then the snow came, and after the snow camethe frost. the streets looked as if they were made ofsilver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung downfrom the eaves of the houses, everybody

went about in furs, and the little boyswore scarlet caps and skated on the ice. the poor little swallow grew colder andcolder, but he would not leave the prince, he loved him too well. he picked up crumbs outside the baker'sdoor when the baker was not looking and tried to keep himself warm by flapping hiswings. but at last he knew that he was going todie. he had just strength to fly up to theprince's shoulder once more. "good-bye, dear prince!" he murmured, "willyou let me kiss your hand?" "i am glad that you are going to egypt atlast, little swallow," said the prince,

"you have stayed too long here; but youmust kiss me on the lips, for i love you." "it is not to egypt that i am going," saidthe 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 soundedinside the statue, as if something had broken. the fact is that the leaden heart hadsnapped right in two. it certainly was a dreadfully hard frost. early the next morning the mayor waswalking in the square below in company with

the town councillors. as they passed the column he looked up atthe statue: "dear me! how shabby the happy prince looks!" he said. "how shabby indeed!" cried the towncouncillors, who always agreed with the mayor; and they went up to look at it. "the ruby has fallen out of his sword, hiseyes are gone, and he is golden no longer," said the mayor in fact, "he is litttlebeter than a beggar!" "little better than a beggar," said thetown councillors. "and here is actually a dead bird at hisfeet!" continued the mayor.

"we must really issue a proclamation thatbirds are not to be allowed to die here." and the town clerk made a note of thesuggestion. so they pulled down the statue of the happyprince. "as he is no longer beautiful he is nolonger 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 decide what was to be donewith the metal. "we must have another statue, of course,"he said, "and 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 werequarrelling still. "what a strange thing!" said the overseerof the workmen at the foundry. "this broken lead heart will not melt inthe 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 inthe city," said god to one of his angels; and the angel brought him the leaden heartand the dead bird. "you have rightly chosen," said god, "forin my garden of paradise this little bird

shall sing for evermore, and in my city ofgold the happy prince shall praise me." > chapter 2 the nightingale and the rose "she said that she would dance with me if ibrought her red roses," cried the young student; "but in all my garden there is nored rose." from her nest in the holm-oak tree thenightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered."no red rose in all my garden!" he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. "ah, on what little things does happinessdepend!

i have read all that the wise men havewritten, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is mylife made wretched." "here at last is a true lover," said thenightingale. "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 nowi 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 likepale ivory, and sorrow 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 herin my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her hand will be claspedin mine. but there is no red rose in my garden, so ishall sit lonely, and she will pass me by. she will have no heed of me, and my heartwill break." "here indeed is the true lover," said thenightingale. "what i sing of, he suffers--what is joy tome, to him is pain. surely love is a wonderful thing.

it is more precious than emeralds, anddearer than fine opals. pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, noris it set forth in the marketplace. it may not be purchased of the merchants,nor can it be weighed out in the balance for gold." "the musicians will sit in their gallery,"said the young student, "and play upon their stringed instruments, and my lovewill dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. she will dance so lightly that her feetwill not touch the floor, and the courtiers in their gay dresses will throng round her.

but with me she will not dance, for i haveno red rose to give her"; and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried hisface in his hands, and wept. "why is he weeping?" asked a little greenlizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air."why, indeed?" said a butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam. "why, indeed?" whispered a daisy to hisneighbour, in a soft, low voice. "he is weeping for a red rose," said thenightingale. "for a red rose?" they cried; "how veryridiculous!" and the little lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright.

but the nightingale understood the secretof the student's sorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and thought about themystery of love. suddenly she spread her brown wings forflight, 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 wasstanding a beautiful rose-tree, and when she saw it she flew over to it, and litupon a spray. "give me a red rose," she cried, "and iwill sing you my sweetest song." but the tree shook its head.

"my roses are white," it answered; "aswhite as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon the mountain. but go to my brother who grows round theold 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 red rose," she cried, "and i will sing you my sweetest song." "my roses are yellow," it answered; "asyellow as the hair of the mermaiden who sits upon an amber throne, and yellowerthan the daffodil that blooms in the meadow

before the mower comes with his scythe. but go to my brother who grows beneath thestudent'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 red rose," she cried, "and i but the tree shook its head."my roses are red," it answered, "as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than thegreat fans of coral that wave and wave in the ocean-cavern. but the winter has chilled my veins, andthe frost has nipped my buds, and the storm

has broken my branches, and i shall have noroses at all this year." "one red rose is all i want," cried thenightingale, "only one red rose! is there no way by which i can get it?" "there is away," answered the tree; "but itis 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 ownheart's-blood. you must sing to me with your breastagainst a thorn.

all night long you must sing to me, and thethorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins, andbecome mine." "death is a great price to pay for a redrose," cried the nightingale, "and life is very dear to all. it is pleasant 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, andsweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on thehill. yet love is better than life, and what isthe 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 thegrass, where she had left him, and the tears were not yet dry in his beautifuleyes. "be happy," cried the nightingale, "behappy; 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 youwill be a true lover, for love is wiser

than philosophy, though she is wise, andmightier than power, though he is mighty. flame- coloured are his wings, and colouredlike flame is his body. his lips are sweet as honey, and his breathis like frankincense." the student looked up from the grass, andlistened, but he could not understand what the nightingale was saying to him, for heonly knew the things that are written down in books. but the oak-tree understood, and felt sad,for he was very fond of the little nightingale who had built her nest in hisbranches. "sing me one last song," he whispered; "ishall 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 jar. when she had finished her song the studentgot up, and pulled a note-book and a lead- pencil out of his pocket. "she has form," he said to himself, as hewalked 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 isall 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 hassome beautiful notes in her voice. what a pity it is that they do not meananything, or do any practical good." and he went into his room, and lay down onhis little pallet-bed, and began to think of his love; and, after a time, he fellasleep. and when the moon shone in the heavens thenightingale flew to the rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. all night long she sang with her breastagainst the thorn, and the cold crystal moon leaned down and listened. all night long she sang, and the thorn wentdeeper and deeper into her breast, and her

life-blood 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-treethere blossomed a marvellous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song. pale was it, at first, as the mist thathangs over the river--pale as the feet of the morning, and silver as the wings of thedawn. as the shadow of a rose in a mirror ofsilver, as the shadow of a rose in a water- pool, so was the rose that blossomed on thetopmost spray of the tree. but the tree cried to the nightingale topress closer against the thorn.

"press closer, little nightingale," criedthe tree, "or the day will come before the rose is finished." so the nightingale pressed closer againstthe thorn, and louder and louder grew her song, for she sang of the birth of passionin the soul of a man and a maid. and a delicate flush of pink came into theleaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses thelips of the bride. but the thorn had not yet reached herheart, so the rose's heart remained white, for only a nightingale's heart's-blood cancrimson the heart of a rose. and the tree cried to the nightingale topress closer against the thorn.

so the nightingale pressed closer againstthe thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her. bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder andwilder grew her song, for she sang of the love that is perfected by death, of thelove 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, andcrimson as a ruby was the heart. but the nightingale'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 white moon heard it, and she forgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky. the red rose heard it, and it trembled allover with ecstasy, and opened its petals to the cold morning air. echo bore it to her purple cavern in thehills, 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 isfinished now"; but the nightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead in the longgrass, with the thorn in her heart.

and at noon the student opened his windowand looked out. "why, what a wonderful piece of luck!" hecried; "here is a red rose! i have never seen any rose like it in allmy life. it is so beautiful that i am sure it has along latin name"; and he leaned down and plucked it. then he put on his hat, and ran up to theprofessor's house with the rose in his hand. the daughter of the professor was sittingin the doorway winding blue silk on a reel, and her little dog was lying at her feet."you said that you would dance with me if i

brought you a red rose," cried the student. "here is the reddest rose in all the world.you will wear it to-night next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell youhow i love you." but the girl frowned. "i am afraid it will not go with my dress,"she answered; "and, besides, the chamberlain's nephew has sent me some realjewels, and everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers." "well, upon my word, you are veryungrateful," said the student angrily; and he threw the rose into the street, where itfell into the gutter, and a cart-wheel went

over it. "ungrateful!" said the girl."i tell you what, you are very rude; and, after all, who are you?only a student. why, i don't believe you have even gotsilver buckles to your shoes as the chamberlain's nephew has"; and she got upfrom her chair and went into the house. "what i a silly thing love is," said thestudent as he walked away. "it is not half as useful as logic, for itdoes not prove anything, and it is always telling one of things that are not going tohappen, and making one believe things that are not true.

in fact, it is quite unpractical, and, asin this age to be practical is everything, i shall go back to philosophy and studymetaphysics." so he returned to his room and pulled out agreat dusty book, and began to read. chapter 3 the selfish giant every afternoon, as they were coming fromschool, the children used to go and play in the giant's garden.it was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. here and there over the grass stoodbeautiful 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 richfruit. the birds sat on the trees and sang sosweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them. "how happy we are here!" they cried to eachother. one day the giant came back. he had been to visit his friend the cornishogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. after the seven years were over he had saidall that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he determinedto return to his own castle.

when he arrived he saw the children playingin the garden. "what are you doing here?" he cried in avery gruff voice, and the children ran away. "my own garden is my own garden," said thegiant; "any one can understand that, and i will allow nobody to play in it butmyself." so he built a high wall all round it, andput up a notice-board. trespassers will be prosecutedhe was a very selfish giant. the poor children had now nowhere to play. they tried to play on the road, but theroad was very dusty and full of hard

stones, and they did not like it. they used to wander round the high wallwhen their lessons were over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside."how happy we were there," they said to each other. then the spring came, and all over thecountry there were little blossoms and little birds.only in the garden of the selfish giant it was still winter. the birds did not care to sing in it asthere were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom.

once a beautiful flower put its head outfrom the grass, but when it saw the notice- board it was so sorry for the children thatit slipped back into the ground again, and went off to sleep. the only people who were pleased were thesnow and the frost. "spring has forgotten this garden," theycried, "so we will live here all the year round." the snow covered up the grass with hergreat white cloak, and the frost 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 roared allday about the garden, and blew the chimney- pots down."this is a delightful spot," he said, "we must ask the hail on a visit." so the hail came.every day for three hours he rattled on the roof of the castle till he broke most ofthe slates, and then he ran round and round the garden as fast as he could go. he was dressed in grey, and his breath waslike ice. "i cannot understand why the spring is solate in coming," said the selfish giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at hiscold white garden; "i hope there will be a

change in the weather." but the spring never came, nor the summer.the autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the giant's garden she gavenone. "he is too selfish," she said. so it was always winter there, and thenorth wind, and the hail, and the frost, and the snow danced about through thetrees. one morning the giant was lying awake inbed when he heard some lovely music. it sounded so sweet to his ears that hethought it must be the king's musicians passing by.

it was really only a little linnet singingoutside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in hisgarden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the world. then the hail stopped dancing over hishead, and the north wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him throughthe open casement. "i believe the spring has come at last,"said the giant; and he jumped out of bed and looked out.what did he see? he saw a most wonderful sight. through a little hole in the wall thechildren had crept in, and they were

sitting in the branches of the trees.in every tree that he could see there was a little child. and the trees were so glad to have thechildren back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were wavingtheir arms gently above the children's heads. the birds were flying about and twitteringwith 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 upto the branches of the tree, and he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly. the poor tree was still quite covered withfrost and snow, and the north wind was blowing and roaring above it. "climb up! little boy," said the tree, andit bent its branches down as low as it could; but the boy was too tiny.and the giant's heart melted as he looked out. "how selfish i have been!" he said; "now iknow why the spring would not come here. i will put that poor little boy on the topof the tree, and then i will knock down the

wall, and my garden shall be the children'splayground for ever and ever." he was really very sorry for what he haddone. so he crept downstairs and opened the frontdoor quite softly, and went out into the but when the children saw him they were sofrightened that they all ran away, and the garden became winter again. only the little boy did not run, for hiseyes were so full of tears that he did not see the giant coming. and the giant stole up behind him and tookhim gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree.

and the tree broke at once into blossom,and the birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms andflung them round the giant's neck, and kissed him. and the other children, when they saw thatthe giant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and with them came thespring. "it is your garden now, little children,"said the giant, and he took a great axe and knocked down the wall. and when the people were going to market attwelve o'clock they found the giant playing with the children in the most beautifulgarden they had ever seen.

all day long they played, and in theevening 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 because he hadkissed him. "we don't know," answered the children; "hehas gone away." "you must tell him to be sure and come hereto-morrow," said the giant. but the children said that they did notknow where he lived, and had never seen him before; and the giant felt very sad. every afternoon, when school was over, thechildren came and played with the giant.

but the little boy whom the giant loved wasnever seen again. the giant was very kind to all thechildren, yet he longed for his first little friend, and often spoke of him."how i would like to see him!" he used to say. years went over, and the giant grew veryold and feeble. he could not play about any more, so he satin a huge armchair, and watched the children at their games, and admired hisgarden. "i have many beautiful flowers," he said;"but the children are the most beautiful flowers of all."one winter morning he looked out of his

window as he was dressing. he did not hate the winter now, for he knewthat 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 garden was a tree quite covered with lovely whiteblossoms. its branches were all golden, and silverfruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood the little boy he had loved.downstairs ran the giant in great joy, and out into the garden.

he hastened across the grass, and came nearto the child. and when he came quite close his face grewred with anger, and he said, "who hath dared to wound thee?" for on the palms of the child's hands werethe prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on the little feet. "who hath dared to wound thee?" cried thegiant; "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 astrange awe fell on him, and he knelt

before the little child. and the child smiled on the giant, and saidto him, "you let me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with me to mygarden, which is paradise." and when the children ran in thatafternoon, they found the giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with whiteblossoms. chapter 4 the devoted friend one morning the old water-rat put his headout of his hole. he had bright beady eyes and stiff greywhiskers and his tail was like a long bit of black india-rubber.

the little ducks were swimming about in thepond, looking just like a lot of yellow canaries, and their mother, who was purewhite with real red legs, was trying to teach them how to stand on their heads inthe water. "you will never be in the best societyunless you can stand on your heads," she kept saying to them; and every now and thenshe showed them how it was done. but the little ducks paid no attention toher. they were so young that they did not knowwhat an advantage it is to be in society at all. "what disobedient children!" cried the oldwater-rat; "they really deserve 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 ofparents," 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, butfriendship is much higher. indeed, i know of nothing in the world thatis either nobler or rarer than a devoted friendship."

"and what, pray, is your idea of the dutiesof 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, inorder to give her children a good example. "what a silly question!" cried the water-rat. "i should expect my devoted friend to bedevoted to me, of course." "and what would you do in return?" said thelittle 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 amextremely fond of fiction." "it is applicable to you," answered thelinnet; and he flew down, and alighting upon the bank, he told the story of thedevoted friend. "once upon a time," said the linnet, "therewas an honest little fellow named hans." "was he very distinguished?" asked thewater-rat. "no," answered the linnet, "i don't thinkhe 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 gardenso lovely as his. sweet-william grew there, and gilly-flowers, and shepherds'-purses, and fair- maids of france. there were damask roses, and yellow roses,lilac crocuses, and gold, purple violets and white. columbine and ladysmock, marjoram and wildbasil, the cowslip and the flower-de-luce, the daffodil and the clove-pink bloomed orblossomed in their proper order as the months went by, one flower taking another

flower's place, so that there were alwaysbeautiful things to look at, and pleasant odours to smell. "little hans had a great many friends, butthe most devoted friend of all was big hugh the miller. indeed, so devoted was the rich miller tolittle hans, that be would never go by his garden without leaning over the wall andplucking a large nosegay, or a handful of sweet herbs, or filling his pockets with plums and cherries if it was the fruitseason. "'real friends should have everything incommon,' the miller used to say, and little

hans nodded and smiled, and felt very proudof having a friend with such noble ideas. "sometimes, indeed, the neighbours thoughtit strange that the rich miller never gave little hans anything in return, though hehad a hundred sacks of flour stored away in his mill, and six milch cows, and a large flock of woolly sheep; but hans nevertroubled his head about these things, and nothing gave him greater pleasure than tolisten to all the wonderful things the miller used to say about the unselfishnessof true friendship. "so little hans worked away in his garden. during the spring, the summer, and theautumn he was very happy, but when the

winter came, and he had no fruit or flowersto bring to the market, he suffered a good deal from cold and hunger, and often had to go to bed without any supper but a fewdried pears or some hard nuts. in the winter, also, he was extremelylonely, as the miller never came to see him then. "'there is no good in my going to seelittle hans as long as the snow lasts,' the miller used to say to his wife, 'for whenpeople are in trouble they should be left alone, 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 the spring comes, andthen i shall pay him a visit, and he will be able to give me a large basket ofprimroses and that will make him so happy.' "'you are certainly very thoughtful aboutothers,' answered the wife, as she sat in her comfortable armchair by the bigpinewood fire; 'very thoughtful indeed. it is quite a treat to hear you talk aboutfriendship. i am sure the clergyman himself could notsay such beautiful things as you do, though he does live in a three-storied house, andwear a gold ring on his little finger.' "'but could we not ask little hans uphere?' said the miller's youngest son. 'if poor hans is in trouble i will give himhalf my porridge, and show him my white

rabbits.' "'what a silly boy you are'! cried themiller; 'i really don't know what is the use of sending you to school.you seem not to learn anything. why, if little hans came up here, and sawour warm fire, and our good supper, and our great cask of red wine, he might getenvious, and envy is a most terrible thing, and would spoil anybody's nature. i certainly will not allow hans' nature tobe spoiled. i am his best friend, and i will alwayswatch over him, and see that he is not led into any temptations.

besides, if hans came here, he might ask meto let him have some flour 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, andmean quite different things. everybody can see that.' "'how well you talk'! said the miller'swife, pouring herself out a large glass of warm ale; 'really i feel quite drowsy.it is just like being in church.' "'lots of people act well,' answered themiller; 'but very few people talk well, which shows that talking is much the moredifficult thing of the two, and much the

finer thing also'; and he looked sternly across the table at his little son, whofelt so ashamed of himself that he hung his head down, and grew quite scarlet, andbegan to cry into his tea. however, he was so young that you mustexcuse him." "is that the end of the story?" asked thewater-rat. "certainly not," answered the linnet, "thatis the beginning." "then you are quite behind the age," saidthe water-rat. "every good story-teller nowadays startswith the end, and then goes on to the beginning, and concludes with the middle.that is the new method.

i heard all about it the other day from acritic who was walking round the pond with a young man. he spoke of the matter at great length, andi am sure he must have been right, for he had blue spectacles and a bald head, andwhenever the young man made any remark, he always answered 'pooh!' but pray go on with your story.i like the miller immensely. i have all kinds of beautiful sentimentsmyself, so there is a great sympathy between us." "well," said the linnet, hopping now on oneleg and now on the other, "as soon as the

winter was over, and the primroses began toopen their pale yellow stars, the miller said to his wife that he would go down andsee little hans. "'why, what a good heart you have'! criedhis wife; 'you are always thinking of others. and mind you take the big basket with youfor the flowers.' "so the miller tied the sails of thewindmill together with a strong iron chain, and went down the hill with the basket onhis arm. "'good morning, little hans,' said themiller. "'good morning,' said hans, leaning on hisspade, and smiling from ear to ear.

"'and how have you been all the winter?'said the miller. "'well, really,' cried hans, 'it is verygood of you to ask, very good indeed. i am afraid i had rather a hard time of it,but now the spring has come, and i am quite happy, and all my flowers are doing well.' "'we often talked of you during the winter,hans,' said the miller, 'and wondered how you were getting on.'"'that was kind of you,' said hans; 'i was half afraid you had forgotten me.' "'hans, i am surprised at you,' said themiller; 'friendship never forgets. that is the wonderful thing about it, but iam afraid you don't understand the poetry

of life. how lovely your primroses are looking, by-the-bye"! "'they are certainly very lovely,' saidhans, 'and it is a most lucky thing for me that i have so many. i am going to bring them into the marketand sell them to the burgomaster's daughter, and buy back my wheelbarrow withthe money.' "'buy back your wheelbarrow? you don't mean to say you have sold it?what a very stupid thing to do'! "'well, the fact is,' said hans, 'that iwas obliged to.

you see the winter was a very bad time forme, and i really had no money at all to buy bread with. so i first sold the silver buttons off mysunday coat, and then i sold my silver chain, and then i sold my big pipe, and atlast i sold my wheelbarrow. but i am going to buy them all back againnow.' "'hans,' said the miller, 'i will give youmy wheelbarrow. it is not in very good repair; indeed, oneside is gone, and there is something wrong with the wheel-spokes; but in spite of thati will give it to you. i know it is very generous of me, and agreat many people would think me extremely

foolish for parting with it, but i am notlike the rest of the world. i think that generosity is the essence offriendship, 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, really, that is generous of you,'said little hans, and his funny round face glowed all over with pleasure.'i can easily 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 hole in it, and thecorn will all get damp if i don't stop it up.how lucky you mentioned it! it is quite remarkable how one good actionalways breeds another. i have given you my wheelbarrow, and nowyou are going to give me your plank. of course, the wheelbarrow is worth farmore than the plank, but true, friendship never notices things like that.pray get it at once, and i will set to work at my barn this very day.' "'certainly,' cried little hans, and he raninto the shed and dragged the plank out. "'it is not a very big plank,' said themiller, looking at it, 'and i am afraid

that after i have mended my barn-roof therewon't be any left for you to mend the wheelbarrow with; but, of course, that isnot my fault. and now, as i have given you mywheelbarrow, i am sure you would like to give me some flowers in return. here is the basket, and mind you fill itquite full.' "'quite full?' said little hans, rathersorrowfully, for it was really a very big basket, and he knew that if he filled it hewould have no flowers left for the market and he was very anxious to get his silverbuttons back. "'well, really,' answered the miller, 'as ihave given you my wheelbarrow, i don't

think that it is much to ask you for a fewflowers. i may be wrong, but i should have thoughtthat friendship, true friendship, was quite free from selfishness of any kind.' "'my dear friend, my best friend,' criedlittle hans, 'you are welcome to all the flowers in my garden. i would much sooner have your good opinionthan my silver buttons, any day'; and he ran and plucked 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 hishand.

"'good-bye,' said little hans, and he beganto dig away quite merrily, he was so pleased about the wheelbarrow. "the next day he was nailing up somehoneysuckle against the porch, when he heard the miller's voice calling to himfrom the road. so he jumped off the ladder, and ran downthe garden, and looked over the wall. "there was the miller with a large sack offlour 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, andall my flowers to water, and all my grass to roll.' "'well, really,' said the miller, 'i thinkthat, considering that i am going to give you my wheelbarrow, it is rather unfriendlyof you to refuse.' "'oh, don't say that,' cried little hans,'i wouldn't be unfriendly for the whole world'; and he ran in for his cap, andtrudged off with the big sack on his shoulders. "it was a very hot day, and the road wasterribly dusty, and before hans had reached the sixth milestone he was so tired that hehad to sit down and rest.

however, he went on bravely, and as last hereached the market. after he had waited there some time, hesold 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 late he might meet some robbers on the way. "'it has certainly been a hard day,' saidlittle hans to himself as he was going to bed, 'but i am glad i did not refuse themiller, for he is my best friend, and, besides, he is going to give me hiswheelbarrow.' "early the next morning the miller camedown to get the money for his sack of flour, but little hans was so tired that hewas still in bed.

"'upon my word,' said the miller, 'you arevery lazy. really, considering that i am going to giveyou my wheelbarrow, i think you might work harder. idleness is a great sin, and i certainlydon'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 ifi were not your friend. but what is the good of friendship if onecannot say exactly what one means? anybody can say charming things and try toplease and to flatter, but a true friend

always says unpleasant things, and does notmind giving pain. indeed, if he is a really true friend heprefers 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 iwould lie in bed for a little time, and listen to the birds singing. do you know that i always work better afterhearing the birds sing?' "'well, i am glad of that,' said themiller, clapping little hans on the back, 'for i want you to come up to the mill assoon as you are dressed, and mend my barn-

roof for me.' "poor little hans was very anxious to goand work in his garden, for his flowers had not been watered for two days, but he didnot like to refuse the miller, as he was such a good friend to him. "'do you think it would be unfriendly of meif i said i was busy?' he inquired in a shy and timid voice. "'well, really,' answered the miller, 'i donot think it is much to ask of you, considering that i am going to give you mywheelbarrow; but of course if you refuse i will go and do it myself.'

"'oh! on no account,' cried little hans andhe jumped out of bed, and dressed himself, and went up to the barn. "he worked there 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 workso delightful as the work one does for others.'

"'it is certainly a great privilege to hearyou talk,' answered little hans, sitting down, and wiping his forehead, 'a verygreat privilege. but i am afraid i shall never have suchbeautiful ideas as you have.' "'oh! they will come to you,' said themiller, 'but you must take more pains. at present you have only the practice offriendship; some day you will have the theory also.'"'do you really think i shall?' asked little hans. "'i have no doubt of it,' answered themiller, 'but now that you have mended the roof, you had better go home and rest, fori want you to drive my sheep to the

mountain to-morrow.' "poor little hans was afraid to sayanything to this, and early the next morning the miller brought his sheep roundto the cottage, and hans started off with them to the mountain. it took him the whole day to get there andback; and when he returned he was so tired that he went off to sleep in his chair, anddid not wake up till it was broad daylight. "'what a delightful time i shall have in mygarden,' he said, and he went to work at once. "but somehow he was never able to lookafter his flowers at all, for his friend

the miller was always coming round andsending him off on long errands, or getting him to help at the mill. little hans was very much distressed attimes, as he was afraid his flowers would think he had forgotten them, but heconsoled himself by the reflection that the miller was his best friend. 'besides,' he used to say, 'he is going togive me his wheelbarrow, and that is an act of pure generosity.' "so little hans worked away for the miller,and the miller said all kinds of beautiful things about friendship, which hans tookdown in a note-book, and used to read over

at night, for he was a very good scholar. "now it happened that one evening littlehans was sitting by his fireside when a loud rap came at the door. it was a very wild night, and the wind wasblowing and roaring round the house so terribly that at first he thought it wasmerely the storm. but a second rap came, and then a third,louder than any of the others. "'it is some poor traveller,' said littlehans to himself, and he ran to the door. "there stood the miller with a lantern inone hand and a big stick in the other. "'dear little hans,' cried the miller, 'iam in great trouble.

my little boy has fallen off a ladder andhurt himself, and i am going for the doctor. but he lives so far away, and it is such abad night, that it has just occurred to me that it would be much better if you wentinstead of me. you know i am going to give you mywheelbarrow, and so, it is only fair that you should do something for me in return.' "'certainly,' cried little hans, 'i take itquite as a compliment your coming to me, and i will start off at once. but you must lend me your lantern, as thenight 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 great loss to me if anything happened toit.' "'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 dreadful storm it was!the night was so black that little hans could hardly see, and the wind was sostrong that he could scarcely stand. however, he was very courageous, and afterhe had been walking about three hours, he

arrived at the doctor's house, and knockedat the door. "'who is there?' cried the doctor, puttinghis head out of his bedroom window. "'little hans, doctor.'"'what do you want, little hans?' "'the miller's son has fallen from aladder, and has hurt himself, and the miller wants you to come at once.' "'all right!' said the doctor; and heordered his horse, and his big boots, and his lantern, and came downstairs, and rodeoff in the direction of the miller's house, little hans trudging behind him. "but the storm grew worse and worse, andthe rain fell in torrents, and little hans

could not see where he was going, or keepup with the horse. at last he lost his way, and wandered offon the moor, which was a very dangerous place, as it was full of deep holes, andthere poor little hans was drowned. his body was found the next day by somegoatherds, floating in a great pool of water, and was brought back by them to thecottage. "everybody went to little hans' funeral, ashe was so popular, and the miller was the chief mourner. "'as i was his best friend,' said themiller, 'it is only fair that i should have the best place'; so he walked at the headof the procession in a long black cloak,

and every now and then he wiped his eyeswith a big pocket-handkerchief. "'little hans is certainly a great loss toevery one,' said the blacksmith, when the funeral was over, and they were all seatedcomfortably in the inn, drinking spiced wine and eating sweet cakes. "'a great loss to me at any rate,' answeredthe miller; 'why, i had as good as given him my wheelbarrow, and now i really don'tknow what to do with it. it is very much in my way at home, and itis 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 became of the miller?" asked thewater-rat. "oh! i really don't know," replied thelinnet; "and i am sure that i don't care." "it is quite evident then that you have nosympathy 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?" screamed the water-rat."the moral." "do you mean to say that the story has amoral?"

"certainly," said the linnet. "well, really," said the water-rat, in avery angry manner, "i think you should have told me that before you began. if you had done so, i certainly would nothave listened to you; in fact, i should have said 'pooh,' like the critic. however, i can say it now"; so he shoutedout "pooh" at the top of his voice, gave a whisk with his tail, and went back into hishole. "and how do you like the water-rat?" askedthe duck, who came paddling up some minutes afterwards.

"he has a great many good points, but formy own part i have a mother's feelings, and i can never look at a confirmed bachelorwithout the tears coming into my eyes." "i am rather afraid that i have annoyedhim," answered the linnet. "the fact is, that i told him a story witha moral." "ah! that is always a very dangerous thingto do," said the duck. and i quite agree with her. chapter 5 the remarkable rocket the king's son was going to be married, sothere 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 drivenall the way from finland in a sledge drawn by six reindeer. the sledge was shaped like a great goldenswan, and between the swan's wings lay the little princess herself. her long ermine-cloak reached right down toher feet, on her head was a tiny cap of silver tissue, and she was as pale as thesnow palace in which she had always lived. so pale was she that as she drove throughthe streets all the people wondered. "she is like a white rose!" they cried, andthey threw down flowers on her from the balconies.

at the gate of the castle the prince waswaiting to receive her. he had dreamy violet eyes, and his hair waslike fine gold. when he saw her he sank upon one knee, andkissed her hand. "your picture was beautiful," he murmured,"but you are more beautiful than your picture"; and the little princess blushed. "she was like a white rose before," said ayoung page to his neighbour, "but she is like a red rose now"; and the whole courtwas delighted. for the next three days everybody wentabout saying, "white rose, red rose, red rose, white rose"; and the king gave ordersthat the page's salary was to be doubled.

as he received no salary at all this wasnot of much use to him, but it was considered a great honour, and was dulypublished in the court gazette. when the three days were over the marriagewas celebrated. it was a magnificent ceremony, and thebride and bridegroom walked hand in hand under a canopy of purple velvet embroideredwith little pearls. then there was a state banquet, whichlasted for five hours. the prince and princess sat at the top ofthe great hall and drank out of a cup of clear crystal. only true lovers could drink out of thiscup, for if false lips touched it, it grew

grey and dull and cloudy. "it's quite clear that they love eachother," said the little page, "as clear as crystal!" and the king doubled his salary asecond time. "what an honour!" cried all the courtiers. after the banquet there was to be a ball.the bride and bridegroom were to dance the rose-dance together, and the king hadpromised to play the flute. he played very badly, but no one had everdared to tell him so, because he was the king. indeed, he knew only two airs, and wasnever 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 granddisplay of fireworks, to be let off exactly at midnight. the little princess had never seen afirework in her life, so the king had given orders that the royal pyrotechnist shouldbe in attendance on the day of her marriage. "what are fireworks like?" she had askedthe prince, one morning, as she was walking on the terrace.

"they are like the aurora borealis," saidthe king, who always answered questions that were addressed to other people, "onlymuch more natural. i prefer them to stars myself, as youalways know when they are going to appear, and they are as delightful as my own flute-playing. you must certainly see them." so at the end of the king's garden a greatstand had been set up, and as soon as the royal pyrotechnist had put everything inits proper place, the fireworks began to talk to each other. "the world is certainly very beautiful,"cried a little squib.

"just look at those yellow tulips.why! if they were real crackers they could not be lovelier. i am very glad i have travelled.travel improves the mind wonderfully, and does away with all one's prejudices." "the king's garden is not the world, youfoolish squib," said a big roman candle; "the world is an enormous place, and itwould take you three days to see it thoroughly." "any place you love is the world to you,"exclaimed a pensive catherine wheel, who had been attached to an old deal box inearly life, and prided herself on her

broken heart; "but love is not fashionableany more, the poets have killed it. they wrote so much about it that nobodybelieved them, and i am not surprised. true love suffers, and is silent. i remember myself once--but it is no matternow. romance is a thing of the past.""nonsense!" said the roman candle, "romance never dies. it is like the moon, and lives for ever.the bride and bridegroom, for instance, love each other very dearly. i heard all about them this morning from abrown-paper cartridge, who happened to be

staying in the same drawer as myself, andknew the latest court news." but the catherine wheel shook her head. "romance is dead, romance is dead, romanceis dead," she murmured. she was one of those people who think that,if you say the same thing over and over a great many times, it becomes true in theend. suddenly, a sharp, dry cough was heard, andthey all looked round. it came from a tall, supercilious-lookingrocket, who was tied to the end of a long stick. he always coughed before he made anyobservation, so as to attract attention.

"ahem! ahem!" he said, and everybodylistened except the poor catherine wheel, who was still shaking her head, andmurmuring, "romance is dead." "order! order!" cried out a cracker. he was something of a politician, and hadalways taken a prominent part in the local elections, so he knew the properparliamentary expressions to use. "quite dead," whispered the catherinewheel, and she went off to sleep. as soon as there was perfect silence, therocket 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 shoulder of theperson to whom he was talking.

in fact, he had a most distinguishedmanner. "how fortunate 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. really, if it had been arranged beforehand,it could not have turned out better for him; but, princes are always lucky." "dear me!" said the little squib, "ithought it was quite the other way, and that we were to be let off in the prince'shonour." "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 very remarkable rocket, and come of

remarkable parents. my mother was the most celebrated catherinewheel of her day, and was renowned for her graceful dancing. when she made her great public appearanceshe spun round nineteen times before she went out, and each time that she did so shethrew 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 offrench extraction. he flew so high that the people were afraidthat he would never come down again. he did, though, for he was of a kindlydisposition, and he made a most brilliant

descent in a shower of golden rain. the newspapers wrote about his performancein very flattering terms. indeed, the court gazette called him atriumph of pylotechnic art." "pyrotechnic, pyrotechnic, you mean," saida bengal light; "i know it is pyrotechnic, for i saw it written on my own canister." "well, i said pylotechnic," answered therocket, in a severe tone of voice, and the bengal light felt so crushed that he beganat once to bully the little squibs, in order to show that he was still a person ofsome importance. "i was saying," continued the rocket, "iwas saying--what was i saying?"

"you were talking about yourself," repliedthe roman candle. "of course; i knew i was discussing someinteresting subject when i was so rudely interrupted. i hate rudeness and bad manners of everykind, for i am extremely sensitive. no one in the whole world is so sensitiveas i am, i am quite sure of that." "what is a sensitive person?" said thecracker to the roman candle. "a person who, because he has cornshimself, always treads on other people's toes," answered the roman candle in a lowwhisper; and the cracker nearly exploded with laughter.

"pray, what are you laughing at?" inquiredthe rocket; "i am not laughing." "i am laughing because i am happy," repliedthe cracker. "that is a very selfish reason," said therocket 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 iexpect everybody else to do the same. that is what is called sympathy.it is a beautiful virtue, and i possess it in a high degree. suppose, for instance, anything happened tome to-night, what a misfortune that would

be for every one! the prince and princess would never behappy again, their whole married life would be spoiled; and as for the king, i know hewould not get over it. really, when i begin to reflect on theimportance 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," exclaimed the bengal light,who was now in better spirits; "that is only common sense."

"common sense, indeed!" said the rocketindignantly; "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 thinkof things as they really are; i always think of them as being quite different. as for keeping myself dry, there isevidently no one here who can at all appreciate an emotional nature.fortunately for myself, i don't care. the only thing that sustains one throughlife is the consciousness of the immense inferiority of everybody else, and this isa feeling that i have always cultivated.

but none of you have any hearts. here you are laughing and making merry justas 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 isoar up into the air i intend to tell the stars all about it.you will see them twinkle when i talk to them about the pretty bride." "ah! what a trivial view of life!" said therocket; "but it is only what i expected. there is nothing in you; you are hollow andempty.

why, perhaps the prince and princess may goto live in a country where there is a deep river, and perhaps they may have one onlyson, a little fair-haired boy with violet eyes like the prince himself; and perhaps some day he may go out to walk with hisnurse; and perhaps the nurse may go to sleep under a great elder-tree; and perhapsthe 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 have not lost their only son,"said the roman candle; "no misfortune has

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 there wouldbe no use in saying anything more about the matter.i hate people who cry over spilt milk. but when i think that they might lose theironly son, i certainly am very much affected.""you certainly are!" cried the bengal light. "in fact, you are the most affected personi ever met." "you are the rudest person i ever met,"said the rocket, "and you cannot understand

my friendship for the prince." "why, you don't even know him," growled theroman candle. "i never said i knew him," answered therocket. "i dare say that if i knew him i should notbe his friend at all. it is a very dangerous thing to know one'sfriends." "you had really better keep yourself dry,"said the fire-balloon. "that is the important thing." "very important for you, i have no doubt,"answered the rocket, "but i shall weep if i choose"; and he actually burst into realtears, which flowed down his stick like

rain-drops, and nearly drowned two little beetles, who were just thinking of settingup house together, and were looking for a nice dry spot to live in. "he must have a truly romantic nature,"said the catherine wheel, "for he weeps when there is nothing at all to weepabout"; and she heaved a deep sigh, and thought about the deal box. but the roman candle and the bengal lightwere quite indignant, and kept saying, "humbug! humbug!" at the top of theirvoices. they were extremely practical, and wheneverthey objected to anything they called it

humbug. then the moon rose like a wonderful silvershield; 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 tallwhite lilies peeped in at the window and watched them, and the great red poppiesnodded their heads and beat 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, each ofwhom carried a lighted torch at the end of a long pole.it was certainly a magnificent display. whizz! whizz! went the catherine wheel, as shespun 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 fire-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 couldnot go off at all. the best thing 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 wouldnever speak, except with a sneer, shot up into the sky like wonderful golden flowerswith blossoms of fire.

huzza! huzza! cried the court; and the littleprincess laughed with pleasure. "i suppose they are reserving me for somegrand occasion," said the rocket; "no doubt that is what it means," and he looked moresupercilious than ever. the next day the workmen came to puteverything tidy. "this is evidently a deputation," said therocket; "i will receive them with becoming dignity" so he put his nose in the air, andbegan to frown severely as if he were thinking about some very important subject. but they took no notice of him at all tillthey were just going away.

then one of them caught sight of him."hallo!" he cried, "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 very 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 fashionable watering-place, and they have sent me awayto recruit my health. my nerves are certainly very muchshattered, and i require rest."

then a little frog, with bright jewelledeyes, and a green mottled coat, swam up to him. "a new arrival, i see!" said the frog."well, after all there is nothing like mud. give me rainy weather and a ditch, and i amquite happy. do you think it will be a wet afternoon? i am sure i hope so, but the sky is quiteblue and cloudless. what a pity!""ahem! ahem!" said the rocket, and he began to cough. "what a delightful voice you have!" criedthe frog.

"really it is quite like a croak, andcroaking is of course the most musical sound in the world. you will hear our glee-club this evening.we sit in the old duck pond close by the farmer's house, and as soon as the moonrises we begin. it is so entrancing that everybody liesawake to listen to us. in fact, it was only yesterday that i heardthe farmer's wife say to her mother that she could not get a wink of sleep at nighton account of us. it is most gratifying to find oneself sopopular." "ahem! ahem!" said the rocket angrily.he was very much annoyed that he could not

get a word in. "a delightful voice, certainly," continuedthe frog; "i hope you will come over to the duck-pond.i am off to look for my daughters. i have six beautiful daughters, and i am soafraid the pike may meet them. he is a perfect monster, and would have nohesitation in breakfasting off them. well, good-bye: i have enjoyed ourconversation very much, i assure you." "conversation, indeed!" said the rocket."you have talked the whole time yourself. that is not conversation." "somebody must listen," answered the frog,"and i like to do all the talking myself.

it saves time, and prevents arguments.""but i like arguments," said the rocket. "i hope not," said the frog complacently. "arguments are extremely vulgar, foreverybody in good society holds exactly the same opinions. good-bye a second time; i see my daughtersin the distance and the little frog swam away."you are a very irritating person," said the rocket, "and very ill- bred. i hate people who talk about themselves, asyou do, when one wants to talk about oneself, as i do.

it is what i call selfishness, andselfishness 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 by me; youcould not possibly have a better model. now that you have the chance you had betteravail yourself of it, for i am going back to court almost immediately. i am a great favourite at court; in fact,the prince and princess were married yesterday in my honour.of course you know nothing of these matters, for you are a provincial."

"there is no good talking to him," said adragon-fly, who was sitting on the top of a large brown bulrush; "no good at all, forhe has gone away." "well, that is his loss, not mine,"answered the rocket. "i am not going to stop talking to himmerely because he pays no attention. i like hearing myself talk. it is one of my greatest pleasures.i often have long conversations all by myself, and i am so clever that sometimes idon't understand a single word of what i am saying." "then you should certainly lecture onphilosophy," said the dragon- fly; and he

spread a pair of lovely gauze wings andsoared away into the sky. "how very silly of him not to stay here!"said the rocket. "i am sure that he has not often got such achance of improving his mind. however, i don't care a bit. genius like mine is sure to be appreciatedsome 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, andwas considered a great beauty on account of her waddle."quack, quack, quack," she said.

"what a curious shape you are! may i ask were you born like that, or is itthe result of an accident?" "it is quite evident that you have alwayslived in the country," answered the rocket, "otherwise you would know who i am. however, i excuse your ignorance.it would be unfair to expect other people to be as remarkable as oneself. you will no doubt be surprised to hear thati can fly up into the sky, and come down in a shower of golden rain." "i don't think much of that," said theduck, "as i cannot see what use it is to

any one. now, if you could plough the fields likethe 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 avery haughty tone of voice, "i see that you belong to the lower orders.a person of my position is never useful. we have certain accomplishments, and thatis more than sufficient. i have no sympathy myself with industry ofany kind, least of all with such industries as you seem to recommend. indeed, i have always been of opinion thathard work is simply the refuge of people

who have nothing whatever to do." "well, well," said the duck, who was of avery peaceable disposition, and never quarrelled with any one, "everybody hasdifferent tastes. i hope, at any rate, that you are going totake up your residence here." "oh! dear no," cried the rocket."i am merely a visitor, a distinguished visitor. the fact is that i find this place rathertedious. there is neither society here, norsolitude. in fact, it is essentially suburban.

i shall probably go back to court, for iknow that i am destined to make a sensation in the world." "i had thoughts of entering public lifeonce myself," remarked the duck; "there are so many things that need reforming. indeed, i took the chair at a meeting sometime ago, and we passed resolutions condemning everything that we did not like.however, they did not seem to have much effect. now i go in for domesticity, and look aftermy family." "i am made for public life," said therocket, "and so are all my relations, even

the humblest of them. whenever we appear we excite greatattention. i have not actually appeared myself, butwhen i do so it will be a magnificent sight. as for domesticity, it ages one rapidly,and distracts one's mind from higher things." "ah! the higher things of life, how finethey are!" said the duck; "and that reminds me how hungry i feel": and she swam awaydown the stream, saying, "quack, quack, quack."

"come back! come back!" screamed therocket, "i have a great deal to say to you"; but the duck paid no attention tohim. "i am glad that she has gone," he said tohimself, "she has a decidedly middle-class mind"; and he sank a little deeper stillinto the mud, and began to think about the loneliness of genius, when suddenly two little boys in white smocks came runningdown the bank, with a kettle and some faggots. "this must be the deputation," said therocket, and he tried to look very dignified."hallo!" cried one of the boys, "look at

this old stick! i wonder how it came here"; and he pickedthe rocket out of the ditch. "old stick!" said the rocket, "impossible!gold stick, that is what he said. gold stick is very complimentary. in fact, he mistakes me for one of thecourt dignitaries!" "let us put it into the fire!" said theother boy, "it will help to boil the kettle." so they piled the faggots together, and putthe 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, "andwhen we wake up the kettle will be boiled"; and they lay down on the grass, and shuttheir eyes. the rocket was very damp, so he took a longtime to burn. at last, however, the fire caught him."now i am going off!" he cried, and he made himself very stiff and straight. "i know i shall go much higher than thestars, 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 likethis for ever. what a success i am!" but nobody saw him.then he began to feel a curious tingling sensation all over him."now i am going to explode," he cried. "i shall set the whole world on fire, andmake such a noise that nobody will talk 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 thestick, and this fell down on the back of a goose who was taking a walk by the side ofthe ditch. "good heavens!" cried the goose. "it is going to rain sticks"; and sherushed into the water. "i knew i should create a great sensation,"gasped the rocket, and he went out.

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