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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/902-0.txt b/902-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7282aff --- /dev/null +++ b/902-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2279 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Happy Prince, by Oscar Wilde + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The Happy Prince + and Other Tales + +Author: Oscar Wilde + +Illustrator: Walter Crane + +Release Date: May 6, 1997 [eBook #902] +[Most recently updated: October 25, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: David Price and Paul Redmond + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HAPPY PRINCE *** + + [Picture: Book cover] + + [Picture: The Happy Prince] + + + + + + The Happy Prince + And Other Tales + + + BY + OSCAR WILDE + + ILLUSTRATED BY + WALTER CRANE AND JACOMB HOOD + + * * * * * + + SEVENTH IMPRESSION + + * * * * * + + LONDON + DAVID NUTT, 57–59 LONG ACRE + 1910 + + * * * * * + +_First Edition_ _May_ 1888 +_Second Impression_ _January_ 1889 +_Third Impression_ _February_ 1902 +_Fourth Impression_ _September_ 1905 +_Fifth Impression_ _February_ 1907 +_Sixth Impression_ _March_ 1908 +_Seventh Impression_ _March_ 1910 + + * * * * * + + _TO_ + _CARLOS BLACKER_ + + * * * * * + + [Picture: Decorative graphic of children] + + + + +Contents. + + Page +The Happy Prince 1 +The Nightingale and the Rose 25 +The Selfish Giant 43 +The Devoted Friend 57 +The Remarkable Rocket 87 + + + + +The Happy Prince. + + + [Picture: Woman opening window and seeing bird] + +HIGH above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy +Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes +he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed 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 quite so useful,” he added, fearing +lest people should think him unpractical, which he really 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 crying for anything.” + +“I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy,” muttered a +disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue. + +“He looks just 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.” + +“Ah! but we have, in our dreams,” answered the children; and the +Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not +approve of children dreaming. + +One night there flew 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 +attracted 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 he flew round and round her, +touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples. This was +his courtship, and it lasted 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 +full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn came they all flew away. + +After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady-love. +“She has no conversation,” he said, “and I am 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,” he continued, “but I love travelling, and my +wife, consequently, should love travelling also.” + +“Will you come away with me?” he said finally 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 softly to himself as he looked round, +and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his head under +his wing a large drop of water fell on him. “What a curious thing!” he +cried; “there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear +and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is +really dreadful. The Reed used 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 did he see? + +The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were +running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the +moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity. + +“Who are you?” he said. + +“I am the Happy Prince.” + +“Why are you weeping then?” asked the Swallow; “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 of Sans-Souci, where +sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime 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 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 up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery +of my city, 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 personal remarks out loud. + +“Far away,” continued the statue in a low musical 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 has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she +is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion-flowers on a satin 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 her little 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 you not 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 the Swallow. “My friends are flying up +and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus-flowers. Soon they +will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there +himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped 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 +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 the Swallow. “Last summer, when I +was staying on the river, there were two rude 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 Prince 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 picked out the great ruby from 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 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!” + +“I hope my dress 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 scales. 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. In he +hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman’s thimble. +Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy’s forehead with his +wings. “How cool I feel,” said the boy, “I must be getting 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 feel quite warm now, although +it is so cold.” + +“That is because 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. “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 it 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 chirruped, +and said to each other, “What a distinguished stranger!” so he enjoyed +himself very much. + +When the moon rose 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 +with 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 among +the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon. All +night long he watches the stars, and when 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 their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.” + +“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “far away across the +city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered +with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there 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, which 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 there was a hole in +the roof. Through 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 beginning to be appreciated,” he cried; “this is from some great +admirer. Now I can finish my play,” and 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”! 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 one night longer?” + +“It is winter,” answered the Swallow, “and the 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 the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves +are watching them, 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 place 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 not bring home some money, +and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little 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.” + +“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,” 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-fish 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 crystal; 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 large 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, little +Swallow, and tell me 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 were sitting at the gates. He +flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children +looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a +bridge two little boys 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 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 them happy.” + +Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy +Prince looked quite dull 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. “We have bread now!” they cried. + +Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets +looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright 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 +warm by flapping his wings. + +But at last he knew 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 that 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 was 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 the 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,” said the Mayor in fact, “he is little better than a +beggar!” + +“Little better 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 down 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 decide what was to be done with 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 were quarrelling still. + +“What a strange 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 +little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy +Prince shall praise me.” + + [Picture: Decorative graphic of two birds] + + + + +The Nightingale and the Rose. + + + [Picture: Decorative graphic of young man lying on grass] + +“SHE said that 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 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 happiness depend! I have +read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of +philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made +wretched.” + +“Here at last is a true lover,” said the Nightingale. “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 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 her in +my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her hand will +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. 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. 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 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 tail 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 weeping for a red rose,” said the Nightingale. + +“For a red rose?” they cried; “how very ridiculous!” and the little +Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright. + +But the Nightingale 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 spread 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 red 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 red 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 beneath 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 red 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 than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the +ocean-cavern. But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has +nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I shall have no +roses at all this year.” + +“One red rose is all I want,” cried the Nightingale, “only one red rose! +Is there no way by which I can get it?” + +“There is a way,” 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 breast against a thorn. All night long 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 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, 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,” 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.” + +The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could not +understand what the Nightingale was saying to him, for he only 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 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 jar. + +When she had finished 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 breast against the thorn. All night long she sang +with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down +and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper 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-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 cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. +“Press closer, little Nightingale,” cried the Tree, “or the Day will come +before the rose 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 flush 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 cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. +“Press closer, little Nightingale,” cried the Tree, “or the Day will come +before the rose is finished.” + +So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn +touched her heart, and a fierce 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 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 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 +Nightingale 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 beautiful that +I am sure it has a long Latin name”; and he leaned down and plucked it. + +Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor’s house with the rose +in his hand. + +The daughter of the Professor was sitting in 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 +you how 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 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 you 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 a silly thing Love is,” said the Student as he walked away. “It +is not half 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 that 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. + + [Picture: Decorative graphic of nightingale and rose] + + + + +The Selfish Giant. + + + [Picture: The Selfish Giant] + +EVERY afternoon, as they were coming from school, 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 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 sang 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. + + [Picture: Decorative graphic of children in garden] + +One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit 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. 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 garden 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 tried 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 happy we +were there,” they said to each other. + +Then the Spring came, 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 did not care to sing in it as there were no children, +and the trees forgot to blossom. Once a beautiful flower 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.” The Snow covered up the grass with her great 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 all day 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 of the slates, and then he ran round and +round the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and his +breath was like ice. + +“I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming,” said the +Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold 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 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 Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely +music. It sounded so sweet to his ears that 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 sing 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 came to him through the 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 the +children 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 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 still quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was +blowing and roaring above it. “Climb up! little 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 heart melted as he looked out. “How selfish I have +been!” he said; “now I know why the Spring would not come here. I will +put that poor 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 Giant 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 blossom, 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 knocked down the wall. And when the people +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 because he had kissed him. + +“We don’t know,” answered the children; “he has gone away.” + +“You must tell him to be sure and come here to-morrow,” said the Giant. +But the children said that they did 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 Giant was very kind to all the children, 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 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 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 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 garden +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 loved. + +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 he 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 nails were on the little feet. + +“Who hath dared 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 before the little child. + +And the child smiled 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 children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying +dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms. + + [Picture: Decorative graphic of wreath] + + + + +The Devoted Friend. + + + [Picture: Hans and the Miller] + +ONE morning the old Water-rat put his head out of his hole. He had +bright beady eyes and stiff grey whiskers and his tail was like a long +bit of black india-rubber. The little ducks were swimming about in the +pond, looking just like a lot of yellow canaries, and their mother, who +was pure white with real red legs, was trying to teach them how to stand +on their heads in the water. + +“You will never be in the best society unless you can stand on your +heads,” she kept saying to them; and every now and then she showed them +how it was done. But the little ducks paid no attention to her. They +were so young that 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 +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 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 know of nothing in the world that is either nobler or +rarer than a devoted friendship.” + +“And what, pray, 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 would 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 +alighting 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 were damask Roses, and yellow Roses, lilac +Crocuses, and gold, purple Violets and white. Columbine and Ladysmock, +Marjoram and Wild Basil, the Cowslip and the Flower-de-luce, the Daffodil +and 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 beautiful 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 was the rich Miller to +little Hans, that he would never go by his garden without leaning 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 friends 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 stored 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 greater pleasure than to listen to all the +wonderful things the Miller used to say about the unselfishness of true +friendship. + +“So little Hans worked away in his garden. During the spring, the +summer, and the autumn he was very happy, but when the winter 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 +but a few dried pears or some hard nuts. In the winter, also, he was +extremely lonely, as the Miller never came 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 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, 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 her comfortable armchair by the big pinewood fire; ‘very +thoughtful indeed. It is quite a treat to hear you talk about +friendship. I am sure the 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.’ + +“‘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 silly boy you are!’ cried the Miller; ‘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 saw our warm fire, and our good +supper, and our great cask of red wine, he might get envious, and envy is +a most terrible thing, and would spoil anybody’s nature. I certainly +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 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, and mean quite different things. Everybody can +see that.’ + +“‘How well you talk!’ said the Miller’s Wife, 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 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, and began to cry into his tea. +However, 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 nowadays starts with 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 a critic who was walking round the +pond with a young man. He spoke of the matter at great length, 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 your story. I like the Miller immensely. I have all +kinds of beautiful sentiments 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 stars, 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 with you for the +flowers.’ + +“So the Miller tied the sails of the windmill together with a strong iron +chain, and went down the hill with the basket on his arm. + +“‘Good morning, little Hans,’ said the Miller. + +“‘Good morning,’ said Hans, leaning on his spade, and smiling from ear to +ear. + +“‘And how have you been all the winter?’ said the Miller. + +“‘Well, really,’ cried Hans, ‘it is very good 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 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 looking, +by-the-bye!” + +“‘They are certainly very lovely,’ said Hans, ‘and it is a most lucky +thing for me that I have so many. I am going to bring them into the +market and sell them to the Burgomaster’s daughter, and buy back my +wheelbarrow with the 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 I was obliged to. You see the +winter was a very bad time for me, and I really had no money 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; indeed, 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 think me +extremely foolish for parting with it, but I am not like the rest of the +world. I think that generosity 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, 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 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 worth far more 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 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 after 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. Here is the basket, and mind you fill it +quite full.’ + +“‘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 and he was very anxious to get his silver +buttons back. + +“‘Well, really,’ answered the Miller, ‘as I have given you my +wheelbarrow, I don’t think that 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 flowers in my garden. I would much sooner have your good opinion +than 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 his hand. + +“‘Good-bye,’ said little Hans, and he began to dig away quite merrily, he +was so pleased about the wheelbarrow. + +“The next day 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 over the wall. + +“There was the 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, really,’ 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’; and he ran in for his cap, and trudged off with the big +sack on his shoulders. + +“It was a very hot day, and the road was terribly dusty, and before Hans +had reached the sixth milestone he was so tired that he had to sit down +and rest. However, he went on bravely, and as 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 late 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 next morning the Miller came down to get the money for his +sack of flour, but little Hans was so tired that he was still in bed. + +“‘Upon my word,’ said the Miller, ‘you are very lazy. Really, +considering that I am going to give you my wheelbarrow, I think you might +work harder. Idleness 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? Anybody can say charming things and try to +please and to flatter, but a true friend always says unpleasant things, +and does not mind giving pain. Indeed, if he is a really true friend 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 listen 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 want 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 think it would be unfriendly of me if I said I was busy?’ he +inquired in a shy and timid voice. + +“‘Well, really,’ 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 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 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 will come to you,’ said the Miller, ‘but you must take more +pains. At present you have only the practice of friendship; some day you +will have the theory also.’ + +“‘Do you really 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 mountain to-morrow.’ + +“Poor little Hans was afraid to say anything to this, and early the next +morning the Miller brought his sheep round to the cottage, and Hans +started off with them to the mountain. It took him the whole day to get +there and back; and when he returned he was so tired that he went off 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 +was his best friend. ‘Besides,’ he used to say, ‘he is going to give 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 took down in a +note-book, and used to read over at night, for he was a very good +scholar. + +“Now it happened that one evening little Hans was sitting by his fireside +when a loud rap came at the door. It was a very wild night, and the wind +was blowing and roaring round the house so terribly that at first he +thought it was merely the storm. But a second rap came, and then a +third, louder than any of the others. + +“‘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 ladder and hurt himself, and I am going for the +Doctor. But he lives so far away, and it is such a bad night, that it +has just occurred to me that it would be much better if you went instead +of me. You know I am going to give you my wheelbarrow, and so, it is +only fair that you should 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 you 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 great 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 dreadful 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 there?’ cried the Doctor, putting his head out of his bedroom +window. + +“‘Little Hans, Doctor.’ + +“’What do you want, little Hans?’ + +“‘The Miller’s son has fallen from a ladder, and has hurt himself, and +the Miller wants you to come at once.’ + +“‘All right!’ said the Doctor; and he ordered his horse, and his big +boots, and his lantern, and came downstairs, and rode off in the +direction of the Miller’s house, little Hans trudging behind him. + +“But the storm 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 wandered 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 went to little Hans’ funeral, as he was so popular, and the +Miller was the chief mourner. + +“‘As I was his 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 Hans 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 loss 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 became 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?” screamed the Water-rat. + +“The moral.” + +“Do you mean to say that the story has a moral?” + +“Certainly,” 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 fact, I should have said +‘Pooh,’ like the critic. However, I can say it now”; so 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 great 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 is, 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. + + [Picture: Decorative graphic of windmill and overturned barrow] + + + + +The Remarkable Rocket. + + + [Picture: The Remarkable Rocket] + +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 +cap of silver tissue, and she was as pale as the Snow Palace in which she +had always lived. So pale was she that as she drove through the streets +all the people wondered. “She is like a white rose!” they cried, and +they threw down flowers on her from the balconies. + + [Picture: Decorative graphic of young man kissing the princess’ hand] + +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 like 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, White rose”; and the King gave orders that the Page’s +salary was to be doubled. As he received no salary at all this was not +of much use to him, but it was considered a great honour, and was duly +published in the Court Gazette. + +When the three days were over the marriage was celebrated. It was a +magnificent ceremony, and the bride and bridegroom walked hand in hand +under a canopy of purple velvet embroidered with little pearls. Then +there was a State Banquet, which lasted for five hours. The Prince and +Princess sat at the top of the Great Hall and drank out of a cup of clear +crystal. Only true lovers could 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 bride and bridegroom were +to dance the Rose-dance together, and the King had promised 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 Royal +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 walking on the terrace. + +“They are like 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 +certainly 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 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, you foolish squib,” said a big Roman +Candle; “the world is an enormous place, and it would 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 in early life, and prided +herself on her broken heart; “but love is not fashionable any more, the +poets have killed it. They wrote so much about it that nobody believed +them, and I am not surprised. True love suffers, and is silent. I +remember myself once—But it is no matter now. 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 a +brown-paper cartridge, who happened to be staying in the same drawer as +myself, and knew the latest Court news.” + +But the Catherine Wheel shook her head. “Romance is dead, Romance is +dead, Romance is 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 the end. + +Suddenly, a sharp, dry cough was heard, and they all looked round. + +It came from a tall, supercilious-looking Rocket, who was tied to the end +of a long stick. He always coughed before he made any 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 part 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 shoulder of the person to whom he +was talking. In fact, he had a most distinguished manner. + +“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, “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 very 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 kindly +disposition, and he made a most brilliant descent in a shower of golden +rain. The newspapers wrote about 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 squibs, 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?” + +“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 who, 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.” + +“I am laughing because I am happy,” replied the Cracker. + +“That is a very 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. +It is a beautiful virtue, and I possess it in a high degree. Suppose, +for instance, anything happened to me to-night, what a misfortune that +would be for every one! The Prince and Princess would never 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,” exclaimed the Bengal Light, who was now in better spirits; +“that is only common sense.” + +“Common sense, 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 myself dry, there is evidently no +one here who can at all appreciate an emotional nature. Fortunately for +myself, I don’t care. The only thing that 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 merry 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 talk 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 out 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 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 would be 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 their only son, I certainly am very +much affected.” + +“You certainly 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 don’t even know him,” growled the Roman Candle. + +“I never said 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 thing +to know one’s friends.” + +“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 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 have a truly romantic nature,” said the Catherine Wheel, “for he +weeps when there is nothing at all to weep about”; and she heaved a deep +sigh, and thought about the deal box. + +But the Roman Candle and the Bengal Light were quite indignant, and kept +saying, “Humbug! humbug!” at the top of their voices. They were +extremely practical, and whenever they objected to anything 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 the window and +watched them, and the great red poppies nodded 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 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 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 could not 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 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 they are reserving me for some grand occasion,” said the +Rocket; “no doubt 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 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 away to recruit my +health. My nerves are certainly very much shattered, and I require +rest.” + +Then a little Frog, with bright jewelled eyes, 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 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 croak, 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 duck +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 fact, +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 oneself 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 look for my daughters. I have +six beautiful 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. Well, good-bye: I have enjoyed our conversation 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, 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 very irritating person,” said the Rocket, “and very ill-bred. +I hate people who talk about themselves, 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 by me; you could not possibly have a better model. +Now that you have the chance you had better avail 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 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 talking 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 all by myself, and I am so clever that sometimes I +don’t understand a single word of what I am saying.” + +“Then you should 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 silly of him not to stay here!” said the Rocket. “I am sure +that he has not often got such a chance of improving his mind. However, +I don’t care a bit. Genius like mine is sure to be appreciated 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 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 it the result of an accident?” + +“It is quite evident that you have always lived 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 that I can fly up +into the sky, and come down in a shower of golden rain.” + +“I don’t think 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 +see that you belong to the lower orders. A person of my position is +never useful. We have certain accomplishments, and that is more than +sufficient. I have no sympathy myself with industry of any kind, least +of all with such industries as you seem to recommend. Indeed, I have +always been of opinion that hard work is simply the refuge of people who +have nothing whatever to do.” + +“Well, well,” said the Duck, who was of a very peaceable disposition, and +never 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. “I am merely a visitor, a distinguished +visitor. The fact is that I find this place rather tedious. There is +neither society here, nor solitude. In fact, it is essentially suburban. +I shall probably go back to Court, for I know that I am destined to make +a sensation in the world.” + +“I had thoughts of entering public life once myself,” remarked the Duck; +“there are so many things that need reforming. Indeed, I took the chair +at a meeting some time 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 after my family.” + +“I am made for public life,” said the Rocket, “and so are all my +relations, even the humblest of them. Whenever we appear we excite 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 rapidly, and +distracts one’s mind from higher things.” + +“Ah! the higher things of life, how fine they are!” said the Duck; “and +that reminds me how hungry I feel”: and 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”; but the Duck paid no attention to him. “I am glad that she has +gone,” he said to himself, “she 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 two little boys in white smocks came +running down the bank, with a kettle and some 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”; and he picked the 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 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 very damp, so he took a long time 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 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 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, and make 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 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 water. + +“I knew I should create a great sensation,” gasped the Rocket, and he +went out. + + * * * * * + + Printed by BALLANTYNE & CO. 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If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Happy Prince<br /> + and Other Tales</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Oscar Wilde</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Walter Crane</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: May 6, 1997 [eBook #902]<br /> +[Most recently updated: October 25, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Price and Paul Redmond</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HAPPY PRINCE ***</div> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/coverb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Book cover" +title= +"Book cover" + src="images/covers.jpg" /> +</a></p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/fpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"The Happy Prince" +title= +"The Happy Prince" + src="images/fps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h1>The Happy Prince<br /> +And Other Tales</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br +/> +OSCAR WILDE</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">ILLUSTRATED +BY</span><br /> +WALTER CRANE AND JACOMB HOOD</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">SEVENTH +IMPRESSION</span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">LONDON<br /> +DAVID NUTT, 57–59 LONG ACRE<br /> +1910</p> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + +<tr> +<td> First Edition</td> <td>May 1888</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> Second Impression</td> <td>January 1889</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> Third Impression</td> <td>February 1902</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> Fourth Impression</td> <td>September 1905</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> Fifth Impression</td> <td>February 1907</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> Sixth Impression</td> <td>March 1908</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> Seventh Impression</td> <td>March 1910</td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>TO</i><br /> +<i>CARLOS BLACKER</i></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p0b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decorative graphic of children" +title= +"Decorative graphic of children" + src="images/p0s.jpg" /> +</a></p> + +<h2>Contents.</h2> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">The Happy Prince</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">The Nightingale and the Rose</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">The Selfish Giant</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">The Devoted Friend</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">The Remarkable Rocket</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>The Happy Prince.</h2> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p3b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Woman opening window and seeing bird" +title= +"Woman opening window and seeing bird" + src="images/p3s.jpg" /> +</a></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">High</span> above the city, on a tall +column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded +all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two +bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his +sword-hilt.</p> + +<p>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 quite so useful,” he added, fearing +lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was +not.</p> + +<p>“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 crying for +anything.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite +happy,” muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the +wonderful statue.</p> + +<p>“He looks just like an angel,” said the Charity +Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright +scarlet cloaks and their clean white pinafores.</p> + +<p>“How do you know?” said the Mathematical Master, +“you have never seen one.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! but we have, in our dreams,” answered the +children; and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very +severe, for he did not approve of children dreaming.</p> + +<p>One night there flew 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 attracted +by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.</p> + +<p>“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 he flew round and round her, touching the water with his +wings, and making silver ripples. This was his courtship, +and it lasted all through the summer.</p> + +<p>“It is a ridiculous attachment,” twittered the +other Swallows; “she has no money, and far too many +relations”; and indeed the river was quite full of +Reeds. Then, when the autumn came they all flew away.</p> + +<p>After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his +lady-love. “She has no conversation,” he said, +“and I am 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,” he continued, +“but I love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should +love travelling also.”</p> + +<p>“Will you come away with me?” he said finally to +her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her +home.</p> + +<p>“You have been trifling with me,” he cried. +“I am off to the Pyramids. Good-bye!” and he +flew away.</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>Then he saw the statue on the tall column.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“I have a golden bedroom,” he said softly to +himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but +just as he was putting his head under his wing a large drop of +water fell on him. “What a curious thing!” he +cried; “there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars +are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The +climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful. The Reed +used to like the rain, but that was merely her +selfishness.”</p> + +<p>Then another drop fell.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he +looked up, and saw—Ah! what did he see?</p> + +<p>The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears +were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so +beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled +with pity.</p> + +<p>“Who are you?” he said.</p> + +<p>“I am the Happy Prince.”</p> + +<p>“Why are you weeping then?” asked the Swallow; +“you have quite drenched me.”</p> + +<p>“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 daytime 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 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 up +here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery +of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot +chose but weep.”</p> + +<p>“What! is he not solid gold?” said the Swallow to +himself. He was too polite to make any personal remarks out +loud.</p> + +<p>“Far away,” continued the statue in a low musical +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 has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is +a seamstress. She is embroidering passion-flowers on a +satin 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 her little 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 you not bring her the ruby out of my +sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I +cannot move.”</p> + +<p>“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 they will go +to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there +himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow +linen, and embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain +of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered +leaves.”</p> + +<p>“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the +Prince, “will you not stay with me for one night, and be my +messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so +sad.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think I like boys,” answered the +Swallow. “Last summer, when I was staying on the +river, there were two rude 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.”</p> + +<p>But the Happy Prince 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.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, little Swallow,” said the Prince.</p> + +<p>So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the +Prince’s sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the +roofs of the town.</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>“I hope my dress 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.”</p> + +<p>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 scales. 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. In he hopped, +and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman’s +thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the +boy’s forehead with his wings. “How cool I +feel,” said the boy, “I must be getting +better”; and he sank into a delicious slumber.</p> + +<p>Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him +what he had done. “It is curious,” he remarked, +“but I feel quite warm now, although it is so +cold.”</p> + +<p>“That is because 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.</p> + +<p>When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. +“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 +it to the local newspaper. Every one quoted it, it was full +of so many words that they could not understand.</p> + +<p>“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 chirruped, and said +to each other, “What a distinguished stranger!” so he +enjoyed himself very much.</p> + +<p>When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. +“Have you any commissions for Egypt?” he cried; +“I am just starting.”</p> + +<p>“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the +Prince, “will you not stay with me one night +longer?”</p> + +<p>“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 among the +bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God +Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when 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 their roar is louder than the roar of the +cataract.”</p> + +<p>“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the +Prince, “far away across the city I see a young man in a +garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and +in a tumbler by his side there 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.”</p> + +<p>“I will wait with you one night longer,” said the +Swallow, who really had a good heart. “Shall I take +him another ruby?”</p> + +<p>“Alas! I have no ruby now,” said the Prince; +“my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of +rare sapphires, which 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.”</p> + +<p>“Dear Prince,” said the Swallow, “I cannot +do that”; and he began to weep.</p> + +<p>“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the +Prince, “do as I command you.”</p> + +<p>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 there was a hole in the roof. Through 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.</p> + +<p>“I am beginning to be appreciated,” he cried; +“this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my +play,” and he looked quite happy.</p> + +<p>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”! cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, +and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.</p> + +<p>“I am come to bid you good-bye,” he cried.</p> + +<p>“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the +Prince, “will you not stay with me one night +longer?”</p> + +<p>“It is winter,” answered the Swallow, “and +the 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 the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are +watching them, 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 place 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.”</p> + +<p>“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 not bring home some money, and +she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her +little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to +her, and her father will not beat her.”</p> + +<p>“I will stay with you one night longer,” said the +Swallow, “but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would +be quite blind then.”</p> + +<p>“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the +Prince, “do as I command you.”</p> + +<p>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,” cried the little girl; and she ran home, +laughing.</p> + +<p>Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. “You are +blind now,” he said, “so I will stay with you +always.”</p> + +<p>“No, little Swallow,” said the poor Prince, +“you must go away to Egypt.”</p> + +<p>“I will stay with you always,” said the Swallow, +and he slept at the Prince’s feet.</p> + +<p>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-fish 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 crystal; 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 large flat leaves, +and are always at war with the butterflies.</p> + +<p>“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, little Swallow, and +tell me what you see there.”</p> + +<p>So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich +making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were +sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the +white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the +black streets. Under the archway of a bridge two little +boys 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 the +Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.</p> + +<p>Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.</p> + +<p>“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 them +happy.”</p> + +<p>Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till +the Happy Prince looked quite dull 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. “We have bread now!” they +cried.</p> + +<p>Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. +The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so +bright 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.</p> + +<p>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 warm by flapping his wings.</p> + +<p>But at last he knew 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?”</p> + +<p>“I am glad that 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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead +at his feet.</p> + +<p>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 was a dreadfully +hard frost.</p> + +<p>Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square +below in company with the Town Councillors. As they passed +the column he looked up at the statue: “Dear me! how shabby +the Happy Prince looks!” he said.</p> + +<p>“How shabby indeed!” cried the Town Councillors, +who always agreed with the Mayor; and they went up to look at +it.</p> + +<p>“The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are +gone, and he is golden no longer,” said the Mayor in fact, +“he is little better than a beggar!”</p> + +<p>“Little better than a beggar,” said the Town +Councillors.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. +“As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer +useful,” said the Art Professor at the University.</p> + +<p>Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a +meeting of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the +metal. “We must have another statue, of +course,” he said, “and it shall be a statue of +myself.”</p> + +<p>“Of myself,” said each of the Town Councillors, +and they quarrelled. When I last heard of them they were +quarrelling still.</p> + +<p>“What a strange 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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“You have rightly chosen,” said God, “for in +my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, +and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise +me.”</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p24b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decorative graphic of two birds" +title= +"Decorative graphic of two birds" + src="images/p24s.jpg" /> +</a></p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>The Nightingale and the Rose.</h2> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p27b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decorative graphic of young man lying on grass" +title= +"Decorative graphic of young man lying on grass" + src="images/p27s.jpg" /> +</a></p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">She</span> said that 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.”</p> + +<p>From her nest in the holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, +and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.</p> + +<p>“No red rose in all my garden!” he cried, and his +beautiful eyes filled with tears. “Ah, on what little +things does happiness depend! I have read all that the wise +men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet +for want of a red rose is my life made wretched.”</p> + +<p>“Here at last is a true lover,” said the +Nightingale. “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 sorrow has set +her seal upon his brow.”</p> + +<p>“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 will 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.”</p> + +<p>“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. 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. It may not be purchased of +the merchants, nor can it be weighed out in the balance for +gold.”</p> + +<p>“The musicians 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.</p> + +<p>“Why is he weeping?” asked a little Green Lizard, +as he ran past him with his tail in the air.</p> + +<p>“Why, indeed?” said a Butterfly, who was +fluttering about after a sunbeam.</p> + +<p>“Why, indeed?” whispered a Daisy to his neighbour, +in a soft, low voice.</p> + +<p>“He is weeping for a red rose,” said the +Nightingale.</p> + +<p>“For a red rose?” they cried; “how very +ridiculous!” and the little Lizard, who was something of a +cynic, laughed outright.</p> + +<p>But the Nightingale understood the secret of the +Student’s sorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and +thought about the mystery of Love.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she spread 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Give me a red rose,” she cried, “and I will +sing you my sweetest song.”</p> + +<p>But the Tree shook its head.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing +round the old sun-dial.</p> + +<p>“Give me a red rose,” she cried, “and I will +sing you my sweetest song.”</p> + +<p>But the Tree shook its head.</p> + +<p>“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 beneath the Student’s window, and perhaps +he will give you what you want.”</p> + +<p>So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing +beneath the Student’s window.</p> + +<p>“Give me a red rose,” she cried, “and I will +sing you my sweetest song.”</p> + +<p>But the Tree shook its head.</p> + +<p>“My roses are red,” it answered, “as red as +the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral +that wave and wave in the ocean-cavern. But the winter has +chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm +has broken my branches, and I shall have no roses at all this +year.”</p> + +<p>“One red rose is all I want,” cried the +Nightingale, “only one red rose! Is there no way by +which I can get it?”</p> + +<p>“There is a way,” answered the Tree; “but it +is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you.”</p> + +<p>“Tell it to me,” said the Nightingale, “I am +not afraid.”</p> + +<p>“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 breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing +to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood +must flow into my veins, and become mine.”</p> + +<p>“Death is a great price to pay for a red rose,” +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, 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?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Be happy,” 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.”</p> + +<p>The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he +could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him, for +he only knew the things that are written down in books.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Sing me one last song,” he whispered; “I +shall feel very lonely when you are gone.”</p> + +<p>So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was +like water bubbling from a silver jar.</p> + +<p>When she had finished her song the Student got up, and pulled +a note-book and a lead-pencil out of his pocket.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>And when the Moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to +the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. All +night long she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the +cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. All night long +she sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast, +and her life-blood ebbed away from her.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against +the thorn. “Press closer, little Nightingale,” +cried the Tree, “or the Day will come before the rose is +finished.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>And a delicate flush 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.</p> + +<p>And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against +the thorn. “Press closer, little Nightingale,” +cried the Tree, “or the Day will come before the rose is +finished.”</p> + +<p>So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the +thorn touched her heart, and a fierce 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 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.</p> + +<p>“Look, look!” cried the Tree, “the rose is +finished now”; but the Nightingale made no answer, for she +was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her +heart.</p> + +<p>And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out.</p> + +<p>“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 beautiful that I am sure it has +a long Latin name”; and he leaned down and plucked it.</p> + +<p>Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor’s +house with the rose in his hand.</p> + +<p>The daughter of the Professor was sitting in the doorway +winding blue silk on a reel, and her little dog was lying at her +feet.</p> + +<p>“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 you how I +love you.”</p> + +<p>But the girl frowned.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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 +got silver buckles to your shoes as the Chamberlain’s +nephew has”; and she got up from her chair and went into +the house.</p> + +<p>“What a silly thing Love is,” said the Student +as he walked away. “It is not half 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 that 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.”</p> + +<p>So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, +and began to read.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p41b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decorative graphic of nightingale and rose" +title= +"Decorative graphic of nightingale and rose" + src="images/p41s.jpg" /> +</a></p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>The Selfish Giant.</h2> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p44b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"The Selfish Giant" +title= +"The Selfish Giant" + src="images/p44s.jpg" /> +</a></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Every</span> afternoon, as they were +coming from school, the children used to go and play in the +Giant’s garden.</p> + +<p>It was a large lovely 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 sang 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.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p45b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decorative graphic of children in garden" +title= +"Decorative graphic of children in garden" + src="images/p45s.jpg" /> +</a></p> + +<p>One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit 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. When he arrived he +saw the children playing in the garden.</p> + +<p>“What are you doing here?” he cried in a very +gruff voice, and the children ran away.</p> + +<p>“My own garden 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.</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center"><b>TRESPASSERS</b></p> + +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall"><b>WILL +BE</b></span></p> + +<p style="text-align: center"><b>PROSECUTED</b></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>He was a very selfish Giant.</p> + +<p>The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried 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 happy we were +there,” they said to each other.</p> + +<p>Then the Spring came, 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 did not care +to sing in it as there were no children, and the trees forgot to +blossom. Once a beautiful flower 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.” The Snow covered up the grass with her +great 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 all day +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 of the slates, and then he ran round and round +the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey, +and his breath was like ice.</p> + +<p>“I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in +coming,” said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window +and looked out at his cold white garden; “I hope there will +be a change in the weather.”</p> + +<p>But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn +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.</p> + +<p>One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard +some lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears that 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 sing 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 came to him +through the open casement. “I believe the Spring has +come at last,” said the Giant; and he jumped out of bed and +looked out.</p> + +<p>What did he see?</p> + +<p>He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in +the wall the children 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 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 still quite covered with frost and snow, and +the North Wind was blowing and roaring above it. +“Climb up! little boy,” said the Tree, and it bent +its branches down as low as it could; but the boy was too +tiny.</p> + +<p>And the Giant’s heart melted as he looked out. +“How selfish I have been!” he said; “now I know +why the Spring would not come here. I will put that poor +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.</p> + +<p>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 Giant +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 blossom, 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 knocked down the wall. And when the +people 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.</p> + +<p>All day long they played, and in the evening they came to the +Giant to bid him good-bye.</p> + +<p>“But where is your little companion?” he said: +“the boy I put into the tree.” The Giant loved +him the best because he had kissed him.</p> + +<p>“We don’t know,” answered the children; +“he has gone away.”</p> + +<p>“You must tell him to be sure and come here +to-morrow,” said the Giant. But the children said +that they did not know where he lived, and had never seen him +before; and the Giant felt very sad.</p> + +<p>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 Giant was very kind to all +the children, yet he longed for his first little friend, and +often spoke of him. “How I would like to see +him!” he used to say.</p> + +<p>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 flowers of +all.”</p> + +<p>One winter morning 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.</p> + +<p>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 white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and +silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood the +little boy he had loved.</p> + +<p>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 he 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 nails were on +the little feet.</p> + +<p>“Who hath dared to wound thee?” cried the Giant; +“tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay +him.”</p> + +<p>“Nay!” answered the child; “but these are +the wounds of Love.”</p> + +<p>“Who art thou?” said the Giant, and a strange awe +fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.</p> + +<p>And the child smiled 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.”</p> + +<p>And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the +Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white +blossoms.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p55b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decorative graphic of wreath" +title= +"Decorative graphic of wreath" + src="images/p55s.jpg" /> +</a></p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>The Devoted Friend.</h2> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p59b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Hans and the Miller" +title= +"Hans and the Miller" + src="images/p59s.jpg" /> +</a></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">One</span> morning the old Water-rat put +his head out of his hole. He had bright beady eyes and +stiff grey whiskers and his tail was like a long bit of black +india-rubber. The little ducks were swimming about in the +pond, looking just like a lot of yellow canaries, and their +mother, who was pure white with real red legs, was trying to +teach them how to stand on their heads in the water.</p> + +<p>“You will never be in the best society unless you can +stand on your heads,” she kept saying to them; and every +now and then she showed them how it was done. But the +little ducks paid no attention to her. They were so young +that they did not know what an advantage it is to be in society +at all.</p> + +<p>“What disobedient children!” cried the old +Water-rat; “they really deserve to be drowned.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing of the kind,” answered the Duck, +“every one must make a beginning, and parents cannot be too +patient.”</p> + +<p>“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 know of nothing in the world that is +either nobler or rarer than a devoted friendship.”</p> + +<p>“And what, pray, 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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“What a silly question!” cried the +Water-rat. “I should expect my devoted friend to be +devoted to me, of course.”</p> + +<p>“And what would you do in return?” said the little +bird, swinging upon a silver spray, and flapping his tiny +wings.</p> + +<p>“I don’t understand you,” answered the +Water-rat.</p> + +<p>“Let me tell you a story on the subject,” said the +Linnet.</p> + +<p>“Is the story about me?” asked the +Water-rat. “If so, I will listen to it, for I am +extremely fond of fiction.”</p> + +<p>“It is applicable to you,” answered the Linnet; +and he flew down, and alighting upon the bank, he told the story +of The Devoted Friend.</p> + +<p>“Once upon a time,” said the Linnet, “there +was an honest little fellow named Hans.”</p> + +<p>“Was he very distinguished?” asked the +Water-rat.</p> + +<p>“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 were damask Roses, and yellow Roses, lilac Crocuses, and +gold, purple Violets and white. Columbine and Ladysmock, +Marjoram and Wild Basil, the Cowslip and the Flower-de-luce, the +Daffodil and 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 beautiful things +to look at, and pleasant odours to smell.</p> + +<p>“Little Hans had a great many friends, but the most +devoted friend of all was big Hugh the Miller. Indeed, so +devoted was the rich Miller to little Hans, that he would never +go by his garden without leaning 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.</p> + +<p>“‘Real friends 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.</p> + +<p>“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 stored 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 +greater pleasure than to listen to all the wonderful things the +Miller used to say about the unselfishness of true +friendship.</p> + +<p>“So little Hans worked away in his garden. During +the spring, the summer, and the autumn he was very happy, but +when the winter 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 but a few dried pears +or some hard nuts. In the winter, also, he was extremely +lonely, as the Miller never came to see him then.</p> + +<p>“‘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 +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, 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.’</p> + +<p>“‘You are certainly very thoughtful about +others,’ answered the Wife, as she sat in her comfortable +armchair by the big pinewood fire; ‘very thoughtful +indeed. It is quite a treat to hear you talk about +friendship. I am sure the 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.’</p> + +<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.’</p> + +<p>“‘What a silly boy you are!’ cried the +Miller; ‘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 saw our +warm fire, and our good supper, and our great cask of red wine, +he might get envious, and envy is a most terrible thing, and +would spoil anybody’s nature. I certainly 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 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, and mean quite different things. +Everybody can see that.’</p> + +<p>“‘How well you talk!’ said the +Miller’s Wife, pouring herself out a large glass of warm +ale; ‘really I feel quite drowsy. It is just like +being in church.’</p> + +<p>“‘Lots of people 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, and began to cry into his +tea. However, he was so young that you must excuse +him.”</p> + +<p>“Is that the end of the story?” asked the +Water-rat.</p> + +<p>“Certainly not,” answered the Linnet, “that +is the beginning.”</p> + +<p>“Then you are quite behind the age,” said the +Water-rat. “Every good story-teller nowadays starts +with 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 a critic who was walking round the +pond with a young man. He spoke of the matter at great +length, 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 your story. I like the Miller immensely. I +have all kinds of beautiful sentiments myself, so there is a +great sympathy between us.”</p> + +<p>“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 stars, the Miller +said to his wife that he would go down and see little Hans.</p> + +<p>“‘Why, what a good heart you have!’ cried +his Wife; ‘you are always thinking of others. And +mind you take the big basket with you for the flowers.’</p> + +<p>“So the Miller tied the sails of the windmill together +with a strong iron chain, and went down the hill with the basket +on his arm.</p> + +<p>“‘Good morning, little Hans,’ said the +Miller.</p> + +<p>“‘Good morning,’ said Hans, leaning on his +spade, and smiling from ear to ear.</p> + +<p>“‘And how have you been all the winter?’ +said the Miller.</p> + +<p>“‘Well, really,’ cried Hans, ‘it is +very good 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.’</p> + +<p>“‘We often talked of you during the winter, +Hans,’ said the Miller, ‘and wondered how you were +getting on.’</p> + +<p>“‘That was kind of you,’ said Hans; ‘I +was half afraid you had forgotten me.’</p> + +<p>“‘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 looking, by-the-bye!”</p> + +<p>“‘They are certainly very lovely,’ said +Hans, ‘and it is a most lucky thing for me that I have so +many. I am going to bring them into the market and sell +them to the Burgomaster’s daughter, and buy back my +wheelbarrow with the money.’</p> + +<p>“‘Buy back your wheelbarrow? You don’t +mean to say you have sold it? What a very stupid thing to +do!’</p> + +<p>“‘Well, the fact is,’ said Hans, ‘that +I was obliged to. You see the winter was a very bad time +for me, and I really had no money 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.’</p> + +<p>“‘Hans,’ said the Miller, ‘I will give +you my wheelbarrow. It is not in very good repair; indeed, +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 +think me extremely foolish for parting with it, but I am not like +the rest of the world. I think that generosity 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.’</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“‘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 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 worth far more 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.’</p> + +<p>“‘Certainly,’ cried little Hans, and he ran +into the shed and dragged the plank out.</p> + +<p>“‘It is not a very big plank,’ said the +Miller, looking at it, ‘and I am afraid that after 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. Here is the basket, +and mind you fill it quite full.’</p> + +<p>“‘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 +and he was very anxious to get his silver buttons back.</p> + +<p>“‘Well, really,’ answered the Miller, +‘as I have given you my wheelbarrow, I don’t think +that 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.’</p> + +<p>“‘My dear friend, my best friend,’ cried +little Hans, ‘you are welcome to all the flowers in my +garden. I would much sooner have your good opinion than my +silver buttons, any day’; and he ran and plucked all his +pretty primroses, and filled the Miller’s basket.</p> + +<p>“‘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.</p> + +<p>“‘Good-bye,’ said little Hans, and he began +to dig away quite merrily, he was so pleased about the +wheelbarrow.</p> + +<p>“The next day 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 over the wall.</p> + +<p>“There was the Miller with a large sack of flour on his +back.</p> + +<p>“‘Dear little Hans,’ said the Miller, +‘would you mind carrying this sack of flour for me to +market?’</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“‘Well, really,’ said the Miller, ‘I +think that, considering that I am going to give you my +wheelbarrow, it is rather unfriendly of you to refuse.’</p> + +<p>“‘Oh, don’t say that,’ cried little +Hans, ‘I wouldn’t be unfriendly for the whole +world’; and he ran in for his cap, and trudged off with the +big sack on his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“It was a very hot day, and the road was terribly dusty, +and before Hans had reached the sixth milestone he was so tired +that he had to sit down and rest. However, he went on +bravely, and as 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 late he might meet some robbers on the way.</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“Early the next morning the Miller came down to get the +money for his sack of flour, but little Hans was so tired that he +was still in bed.</p> + +<p>“‘Upon my word,’ said the Miller, ‘you +are very lazy. Really, considering that I am going to give +you my wheelbarrow, I think you might work harder. Idleness +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? +Anybody can say charming things and try to please and to flatter, +but a true friend always says unpleasant things, and does not +mind giving pain. Indeed, if he is a really true friend he +prefers it, for he knows that then he is doing good.’</p> + +<p>“‘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 +listen to the birds singing. Do you know that I always work +better after hearing the birds sing?’</p> + +<p>“‘Well, I am glad of that,’ said the Miller, +clapping little Hans on the back, ‘for I want you to come +up to the mill as soon as you are dressed, and mend my barn-roof +for me.’</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“‘Do you think it would be unfriendly of me if I +said I was busy?’ he inquired in a shy and timid voice.</p> + +<p>“‘Well, really,’ 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.’</p> + +<p>“‘Oh! on no account,’ cried little Hans and +he jumped out of bed, and dressed himself, and went up to the +barn.</p> + +<p>“He worked there all day long, till sunset, and at +sunset the Miller came to see how he was getting on.</p> + +<p>“‘Have you mended the hole in the roof yet, little +Hans?’ cried the Miller in a cheery voice.</p> + +<p>“‘It is quite mended,’ answered little Hans, +coming down the ladder.</p> + +<p>“‘Ah!’ said the Miller, ‘there is no +work so delightful as the work one does for others.’</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“‘Oh! they will come to you,’ said the +Miller, ‘but you must take more pains. At present you +have only the practice of friendship; some day you will have the +theory also.’</p> + +<p>“‘Do you really think I shall?’ asked little +Hans.</p> + +<p>“‘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 +mountain to-morrow.’</p> + +<p>“Poor little Hans was afraid to say anything to this, +and early the next morning the Miller brought his sheep round to +the cottage, and Hans started off with them to the +mountain. It took him the whole day to get there and back; +and when he returned he was so tired that he went off to sleep in +his chair, and did not wake up till it was broad daylight.</p> + +<p>“‘What a delightful time I shall have in my +garden,’ he said, and he went to work at once.</p> + +<p>“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 was his best +friend. ‘Besides,’ he used to say, ‘he is +going to give me his wheelbarrow, and that is an act of pure +generosity.’</p> + +<p>“So little Hans worked away for the Miller, and the +Miller said all kinds of beautiful things about friendship, which +Hans took down in a note-book, and used to read over at night, +for he was a very good scholar.</p> + +<p>“Now it happened that one evening little Hans was +sitting by his fireside when a loud rap came at the door. +It was a very wild night, and the wind was blowing and roaring +round the house so terribly that at first he thought it was +merely the storm. But a second rap came, and then a third, +louder than any of the others.</p> + +<p>“‘It is some poor traveller,’ said little +Hans to himself, and he ran to the door.</p> + +<p>“There stood the Miller with a lantern in one hand and a +big stick in the other.</p> + +<p>“‘Dear little Hans,’ cried the Miller, +‘I am in great trouble. My little boy has fallen off +a ladder and hurt himself, and I am going for the Doctor. +But he lives so far away, and it is such a bad night, that it has +just occurred to me that it would be much better if you went +instead of me. You know I am going to give you my +wheelbarrow, and so, it is only fair that you should do something +for me in return.’</p> + +<p>“‘Certainly,’ cried little Hans, ‘I +take it quite as a compliment your coming to me, and I will start +off at once. But you must lend me your lantern, as the +night is so dark that I am afraid I might fall into the +ditch.’</p> + +<p>“‘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 to it.’</p> + +<p>“‘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.</p> + +<p>“What a dreadful 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.</p> + +<p>“‘Who is there?’ cried the Doctor, putting +his head out of his bedroom window.</p> + +<p>“‘Little Hans, Doctor.’</p> + +<p>“’What do you want, little Hans?’</p> + +<p>“‘The Miller’s son has fallen from a ladder, +and has hurt himself, and the Miller wants you to come at +once.’</p> + +<p>“‘All right!’ said the Doctor; and he +ordered his horse, and his big boots, and his lantern, and came +downstairs, and rode off in the direction of the Miller’s +house, little Hans trudging behind him.</p> + +<p>“But the storm 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 +wandered 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.</p> + +<p>“Everybody went to little Hans’ funeral, as he was +so popular, and the Miller was the chief mourner.</p> + +<p>“‘As I was his 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.</p> + +<p>“‘Little Hans 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.</p> + +<p>“‘A great loss 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.’”</p> + +<p>“Well?” said the Water-rat, after a long +pause.</p> + +<p>“Well, that is the end,” said the Linnet.</p> + +<p>“But what became of the Miller?” asked the +Water-rat.</p> + +<p>“Oh! I really don’t know,” replied the +Linnet; “and I am sure that I don’t care.”</p> + +<p>“It is quite evident then that you have no sympathy in +your nature,” said the Water-rat.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid you don’t quite see the moral of the +story,” remarked the Linnet.</p> + +<p>“The what?” screamed the Water-rat.</p> + +<p>“The moral.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to say that the story has a +moral?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” said the Linnet.</p> + +<p>“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 fact, I should have said ‘Pooh,’ +like the critic. However, I can say it now”; so he +shouted out “Pooh” at the top of his voice, gave a +whisk with his tail, and went back into his hole.</p> + +<p>“And how do you like the Water-rat?” asked the +Duck, who came paddling up some minutes afterwards. +“He has a great 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.”</p> + +<p>“I am rather afraid that I have annoyed him,” +answered the Linnet. “The fact is, that I told him a +story with a moral.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! that is always a very dangerous thing to do,” +said the Duck.</p> + +<p>And I quite agree with her.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p85b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decorative graphic of windmill and overturned barrow" +title= +"Decorative graphic of windmill and overturned barrow" + src="images/p85s.jpg" /> +</a></p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>The Remarkable Rocket.</h2> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p88b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"The Remarkable Rocket" +title= +"The Remarkable Rocket" + src="images/p88s.jpg" /> +</a></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> 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 cap of silver tissue, and she was as pale as the Snow Palace +in which she had always lived. So pale was she that as she +drove through the streets all the people wondered. +“She is like a white rose!” they cried, and they +threw down flowers on her from the balconies.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p89b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decorative graphic of young man kissing the princess’ +hand" +title= +"Decorative graphic of young man kissing the princess’ +hand" + src="images/p89s.jpg" /> +</a></p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Your picture was beautiful,” he murmured, +“but you are more beautiful than your picture”; and +the little Princess blushed.</p> + +<p>“She was like 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.</p> + +<p>For the next three days everybody went about saying, +“White rose, Red rose, Red rose, White rose”; and the +King gave orders that the Page’s salary was to be +doubled. As he received no salary at all this was not of +much use to him, but it was considered a great honour, and was +duly published in the Court Gazette.</p> + +<p>When the three days were over the marriage was +celebrated. It was a magnificent ceremony, and the bride +and bridegroom walked hand in hand under a canopy of purple +velvet embroidered with little pearls. Then there was a +State Banquet, which lasted for five hours. The Prince and +Princess sat at the top of the Great Hall and drank out of a cup +of clear crystal. Only true lovers could drink out of this +cup, for if false lips touched it, it grew grey and dull and +cloudy.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>After the banquet there was to be a Ball. The bride and +bridegroom were to dance the Rose-dance together, and the King +had promised 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!”</p> + +<p>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 Royal Pyrotechnist should be in attendance +on the day of her marriage.</p> + +<p>“What are fireworks like?” she had asked the +Prince, one morning, as she was walking on the terrace.</p> + +<p>“They are like 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 certainly see them.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 see it +thoroughly.”</p> + +<p>“Any place you 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 killed it. They wrote so much about it that nobody +believed them, and I am not surprised. True love suffers, +and is silent. I remember myself once—But it is no +matter now. Romance is a thing of the past.”</p> + +<p>“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 a +brown-paper cartridge, who happened to be staying in the same +drawer as myself, and knew the latest Court news.”</p> + +<p>But the Catherine Wheel shook her head. “Romance +is dead, Romance is dead, Romance is 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 the end.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, a sharp, dry cough was heard, and they all looked +round.</p> + +<p>It came from a tall, supercilious-looking Rocket, who was tied +to the end of a long stick. He always coughed before he +made any observation, so as to attract attention.</p> + +<p>“Ahem! ahem!” he said, and everybody listened +except the poor Catherine Wheel, who was still shaking her head, +and murmuring, “Romance is dead.”</p> + +<p>“Order! order!” cried out a Cracker. He was +something of a politician, and had always taken a prominent part +in the local elections, so he knew the proper Parliamentary +expressions to use.</p> + +<p>“Quite dead,” whispered the Catherine Wheel, and +she went off to sleep.</p> + +<p>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 shoulder of the person to whom he was talking. In fact, +he had a most distinguished manner.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Dear me!” 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.”</p> + +<p>“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 +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 kindly disposition, and he made a most brilliant +descent in a shower of golden rain. The newspapers wrote +about his performance in very flattering terms. Indeed, the +Court Gazette called him a triumph of Pylotechnic art.”</p> + +<p>“Pyrotechnic, Pyrotechnic, you mean,” said a +Bengal Light; “I know it is Pyrotechnic, for I saw it +written on my own canister.”</p> + +<p>“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 squibs, in order to +show that he was still a person of some importance.</p> + +<p>“I was saying,” continued the Rocket, “I was +saying—What was I saying?”</p> + +<p>“You were talking about yourself,” replied the +Roman Candle.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“What is a sensitive person?” said the Cracker to +the Roman Candle.</p> + +<p>“A person who, 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.</p> + +<p>“Pray, what are you laughing at?” inquired the +Rocket; “I am not laughing.”</p> + +<p>“I am laughing because I am happy,” replied the +Cracker.</p> + +<p>“That is a very 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. It is a beautiful virtue, and I possess it +in a high degree. Suppose, for instance, anything happened +to me to-night, what a misfortune that would be for every +one! The Prince and Princess would never 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.”</p> + +<p>“If you want to give pleasure to others,” cried +the Roman Candle, “you had better keep yourself +dry.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” exclaimed the Bengal Light, who was +now in better spirits; “that is only common +sense.”</p> + +<p>“Common sense, 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 myself dry, +there is evidently no one here who can at all appreciate an +emotional nature. Fortunately for myself, I don’t +care. The only thing that 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 +merry just as if the Prince and Princess had not just been +married.”</p> + +<p>“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 talk to them about the +pretty bride.”</p> + +<p>“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 out 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.”</p> + +<p>“But they have not lost their only son,” said the +Roman Candle; “no misfortune has happened to them at +all.”</p> + +<p>“I never said that they had,” replied the Rocket; +“I said that they might. If they had lost their only +son there would be 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 their only son, I certainly am +very much affected.”</p> + +<p>“You certainly are!” cried the Bengal Light. +“In fact, you are the most affected person I ever +met.”</p> + +<p>“You are the rudest person I ever met,” said the +Rocket, “and you cannot understand my friendship for the +Prince.”</p> + +<p>“Why, you don’t even know him,” growled the +Roman Candle.</p> + +<p>“I never said 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 thing to know +one’s friends.”</p> + +<p>“You had really better keep yourself dry,” said +the Fire-balloon. “That is the important +thing.”</p> + +<p>“Very important 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.</p> + +<p>“He must have a truly romantic nature,” said the +Catherine Wheel, “for he weeps when there is nothing at all +to weep about”; and she heaved a deep sigh, and thought +about the deal box.</p> + +<p>But the Roman Candle and the Bengal Light were quite +indignant, and kept saying, “Humbug! humbug!” at the +top of their voices. They were extremely practical, and +whenever they objected to anything they called it humbug.</p> + +<p>Then the moon rose like a wonderful silver shield; and the +stars began to shine, and a sound of music came from the +palace.</p> + +<p>The Prince and Princess were leading the dance. They +danced so beautifully that the tall white lilies peeped in at the +window and watched them, and the great red poppies nodded their +heads and beat time.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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 of whom +carried a lighted torch at the end of a long pole.</p> + +<p>It was certainly a magnificent display.</p> + +<p>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 +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 could +not 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 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.</p> + +<p>“I suppose they are reserving me for some grand +occasion,” said the Rocket; “no doubt that is what it +means,” and he looked more supercilious than ever.</p> + +<p>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 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.</p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Bad</span> Rocket? <span +class="smcap">Bad</span> Rocket?” he said, as he whirled +through the air; “impossible! <span +class="smcap">Grand</span> Rocket, that is what the man +said. <span class="smcap">Bad</span> and <span +class="smcap">Grand</span> sound very much the same, indeed they +often are the same”; and he fell into the mud.</p> + +<p>“It is not comfortable here,” he remarked, +“but no doubt it is some fashionable watering-place, and +they have sent me away to recruit my health. My nerves are +certainly very much shattered, and I require rest.”</p> + +<p>Then a little Frog, with bright jewelled eyes, and a green +mottled coat, swam up to him.</p> + +<p>“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 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!”</p> + +<p>“Ahem! ahem!” said the Rocket, and he began to +cough.</p> + +<p>“What a delightful voice you have!” cried the +Frog. “Really it is quite like a croak, 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 duck +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 fact, 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 oneself so popular.”</p> + +<p>“Ahem! ahem!” said the Rocket angrily. He +was very much annoyed that he could not get a word in.</p> + +<p>“A delightful voice, certainly,” continued the +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 so afraid the Pike may meet them. He is +a perfect monster, and would have no hesitation in breakfasting +off them. Well, good-bye: I have enjoyed our conversation +very much, I assure you.”</p> + +<p>“Conversation, indeed!” said the Rocket. +“You have talked the whole time yourself. That is not +conversation.”</p> + +<p>“Somebody must listen,” answered the Frog, +“and I like to do all the talking myself. It saves +time, and prevents arguments.”</p> + +<p>“But I like arguments,” said the Rocket.</p> + +<p>“I hope not,” said the Frog complacently. +“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.</p> + +<p>“You are a very irritating person,” said the +Rocket, “and very ill-bred. I hate people who talk +about themselves, 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 by me; you could +not possibly have a better model. Now that you have the +chance you had better avail 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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that is his loss, not mine,” answered the +Rocket. “I am not going to stop talking 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 all by myself, and I am so clever that +sometimes I don’t understand a single word of what I am +saying.”</p> + +<p>“Then you should certainly lecture on Philosophy,” +said the Dragon-fly; and he spread a pair of lovely gauze wings +and soared away into the sky.</p> + +<p>“How very silly of him not to stay here!” said the +Rocket. “I am sure that he has not often got such a +chance of improving his mind. However, I don’t care a +bit. Genius like mine is sure to be appreciated some +day”; and he sank down a little deeper into the mud.</p> + +<p>After some time a large White Duck swam up to him. She +had yellow legs, and webbed feet, and was considered a great +beauty on account of her waddle.</p> + +<p>“Quack, quack, quack,” she said. “What +a curious shape you are! May I ask were you born like that, +or is it the result of an accident?”</p> + +<p>“It is quite evident that you have always lived 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 that I can +fly up into the sky, and come down in a shower of golden +rain.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think 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.”</p> + +<p>“My good creature,” cried the Rocket in a very +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 that is more than +sufficient. I have no sympathy myself with industry of any +kind, least of all with such industries as you seem to +recommend. Indeed, I have always been of opinion that hard +work is simply the refuge of people who have nothing whatever to +do.”</p> + +<p>“Well, well,” said the Duck, who was of a very +peaceable disposition, and never quarrelled with any one, +“everybody has different tastes. I hope, at any rate, +that you are going to take up your residence here.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! dear no,” cried the Rocket. “I am +merely a visitor, a distinguished visitor. The fact is that +I find this place rather tedious. There is neither society +here, nor solitude. In fact, it is essentially +suburban. I shall probably go back to Court, for I know +that I am destined to make a sensation in the world.”</p> + +<p>“I had thoughts of entering public life once +myself,” remarked the Duck; “there are so many things +that need reforming. Indeed, I took the chair at a meeting +some time 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 after my +family.”</p> + +<p>“I am made for public life,” said the Rocket, +“and so are all my relations, even the humblest of +them. Whenever we appear we excite 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 rapidly, +and distracts one’s mind from higher things.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! the higher things of life, how fine they +are!” said the Duck; “and that reminds me how hungry +I feel”: and she swam away down the stream, saying, +“Quack, quack, quack.”</p> + +<p>“Come back! come back!” screamed the Rocket, +“I have a great deal to say to you”; but the Duck +paid no attention to him. “I am glad that she has +gone,” he said to himself, “she 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 two little boys in white smocks came running down the +bank, with a kettle and some faggots.</p> + +<p>“This must be the deputation,” said the Rocket, +and he tried to look very dignified.</p> + +<p>“Hallo!” cried one of the boys, “look at +this old stick! I wonder how it came here”; and he +picked the rocket out of the ditch.</p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Old</span> Stick!” said the +Rocket, “impossible! <span class="smcap">Gold</span> +Stick, that is what he said. Gold Stick is very +complimentary. In fact, he mistakes me for one of the Court +dignitaries!”</p> + +<p>“Let us put it into the fire!” said the other boy, +“it will help to boil the kettle.”</p> + +<p>So they piled the faggots together, and put the Rocket on top, +and lit the fire.</p> + +<p>“This is magnificent,” cried the Rocket, +“they are going to let me off in broad day-light, so that +every one can see me.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>The Rocket was very damp, so he took a long time to +burn. At last, however, the fire caught him.</p> + +<p>“Now I am going off!” he cried, and he made +himself very stiff and straight. “I know I shall go +much higher than the stars, much higher than the moon, much +higher than the sun. In fact, I shall go so high +that—”</p> + +<p>Fizz! Fizz! Fizz! and he went straight up into the air.</p> + +<p>“Delightful!” he cried, “I shall go on like +this for ever. What a success I am!”</p> + +<p>But nobody saw him.</p> + +<p>Then he began to feel a curious tingling sensation all over +him.</p> + +<p>“Now I am going to explode,” he cried. +“I shall set the whole world on fire, and make 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.</p> + +<p>But nobody heard him, not even the two little boys, for they +were sound asleep.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Good heavens!” cried the Goose. “It +is going to rain sticks”; and she rushed into the +water.</p> + +<p>“I knew I should create a great sensation,” gasped +the Rocket, and he went out.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">Printed by <span +class="smcap">Ballantyne</span> & <span class="smcap">Co. +Limited</span><br /> +Tavistock Street, Covent Garden, London</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p117b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decorative graphic of bird" +title= +"Decorative graphic of bird" + src="images/p117s.jpg" /> +</a></p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HAPPY PRINCE ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f4dd76b --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #902 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/902) diff --git a/old/hpaot10.txt b/old/hpaot10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..46a2cde --- /dev/null +++ b/old/hpaot10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2291 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Happy Prince and Other Tales, by Oscar Wilde +(#12 in our series by Oscar Wilde) + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Happy Prince and Other Tales + +Author: Oscar Wilde + +Release Date: May, 1997 [EBook #902] +[This file was first posted on May 6, 1997] +[Most recently updated: May 12, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE HAPPY PRINCE AND OTHER TALES *** + + + + +Transcribed from the 1910 edition by David Price, email +ccx074@coventry.ac.uk. Second proof by Paul Redmond. + + + + +THE HAPPY PRINCE AND OTHER TALES + + + + +Contents + +The Happy Prince +The Nightingale and the Rose +The Selfish Giant +The Devoted Friend +The Remarkable Rocket + + + +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 of fine +gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby +glowed 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 quite so +useful," he added, fearing lest people should think him +unpractical, which he really 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 crying for anything." + +"I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy," +muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue. + +"He looks just 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." + +"Ah! but we have, in our dreams," answered the children; and the +Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not +approve of children dreaming. + +One night there flew 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 attracted 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 he flew round +and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver +ripples. This was his courtship, and it lasted 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 full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn came they all flew +away. + +After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady- +love. "She has no conversation," he said, "and I am 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," he continued, "but I +love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should love travelling +also." + +"Will you come away with me?" he said finally 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 softly to himself as he looked +round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting +his head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him. "What a +curious thing!" he cried; "there is not a single cloud in the sky, +the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The +climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful. The Reed used +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 did he see? + +The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were +running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the +moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity. + +"Who are you?" he said. + +"I am the Happy Prince." + +"Why are you weeping then?" asked the Swallow; "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 of Sans- +Souci, where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime 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 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 up here so high that +I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, 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 personal remarks out loud. + +"Far away," continued the statue in a low musical 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 has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the +needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion- +flowers on a satin 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 her little 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 you +not 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 the Swallow. "My friends are +flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus- +flowers. Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. +The King is there himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped 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 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 the Swallow. "Last summer, +when I was staying on the river, there were two rude 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 Prince 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 picked out the great ruby from 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 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!" + +"I hope my dress 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 +scales. 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. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on +the table beside the woman's thimble. Then he flew gently round +the bed, fanning the boy's forehead with his wings. "How cool I +feel," said the boy, "I must be getting 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 feel quite warm +now, although it is so cold." + +"That is because 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. "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 it 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 chirruped, and said to each other, "What a distinguished +stranger!" so he enjoyed himself very much. + +When the moon rose 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 with 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 among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne +sits the God Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when +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 their roar is louder +than the roar of the cataract. + +"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "far away +across the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over +a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there 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, which 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 there was a +hole in the roof. Through 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 beginning to be appreciated," he cried; "this is from some +great admirer. Now I can finish my play," and 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"! 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 one night longer?" + +"It is winter," answered the Swallow, "and the 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 the Temple of Baalbec, and the +pink and white doves are watching them, 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 place 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 not +bring home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or +stockings, and her little 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." + +"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," 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-fish 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 crystal; 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 large 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, little Swallow, and tell me 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 were sitting at +the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of +starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. +Under the archway of a bridge two little boys 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 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 them happy." + +Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the +Happy Prince looked quite dull 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. "We have +bread now!" they cried. + +Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets +looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright 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 warm by flapping his wings. + +But at last he knew 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 that 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 was 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 the 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," said the Mayor in fact, "he is litttle beter +than a beggar!" + +"Little better 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 down 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 decide what was to be done with 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 were quarrelling still. + +"What a strange 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 little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold +the Happy Prince shall praise me." + + + +THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE ROSE + + + +"She said that 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 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 happiness +depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, and all +the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is +my life made wretched." + +"Here at last is a true lover," said the Nightingale. "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 +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 her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my +shoulder, and her hand will 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. 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. 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 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 tail 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 weeping for a red rose," said the Nightingale. + +"For a red rose?" they cried; "how very ridiculous!" and the little +Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright. + +But the Nightingale 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 spread 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 red 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 red 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 beneath 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 red 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 than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the +ocean-cavern. But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost +has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I +shall have no roses at all this year." + +"One red rose 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 breast against a thorn. All night long +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 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, 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," 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." + +The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could +not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him, for he only +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 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 jar. + +When she had finished 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 breast against the thorn. All night long +she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal +Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the +thorn went deeper 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-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 cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the +thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the +Day will come before the rose 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 flush 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 cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the +thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the +Day will come before the rose is finished." + +So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn +touched her heart, and a fierce 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 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 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 +Nightingale 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 +beautiful that I am sure it has a long Latin name"; and he leaned +down and plucked it. + +Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor's house with +the rose in his hand. + +The daughter of the Professor was sitting in 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 you how 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 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 you 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 silly thing Love is," said the Student as he walked away. +"It is not half 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 that 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. + + + +THE SELFISH GIANT + + + +Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, 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 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 sang 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 visit 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. 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 garden 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 tried 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 happy we were there," they said to each other. + +Then the Spring came, 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 did not care to sing in it as there +were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom. Once a +beautiful flower 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." The Snow covered up the grass with her great 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 all day 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 +of the slates, and then he ran round and round the garden as fast +as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and his breath was like +ice. + +"I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming," said the +Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold +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 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 Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some +lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears that 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 sing 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 came to him through the 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 +the children 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 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 still quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was +blowing and roaring above it. "Climb up! little 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 heart melted as he looked out. "How selfish I have +been!" he said; "now I know why the Spring would not come here. I +will put that poor 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 Giant 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 blossom, 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 knocked down the wall. And when the people 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 because he had kissed him. + +"We don't know," answered the children; "he has gone away." + +"You must tell him to be sure and come here to-morrow," said the +Giant. But the children said that they did 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 Giant was very kind to all the children, 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 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 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 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 +garden 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 loved. + +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 he +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 nails were on +the little feet. + +"Who hath dared 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 before the little child. + +And the child smiled 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 children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant +lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms. + + + +THE DEVOTED FRIEND + + + +One morning the old Water-rat put his head out of his hole. He had +bright beady eyes and stiff grey whiskers and his tail was like a +long bit of black india-rubber. The little ducks were swimming +about in the pond, looking just like a lot of yellow canaries, and +their mother, who was pure white with real red legs, was trying to +teach them how to stand on their heads in the water. + +"You will never be in the best society unless you can stand on your +heads," she kept saying to them; and every now and then she showed +them how it was done. But the little ducks paid no attention to +her. They were so young that 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 +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 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 know of nothing in the world +that is either nobler or rarer than a devoted friendship." + +"And what, pray, 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 would 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 alighting 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 were damask +Roses, and yellow Roses, lilac Crocuses, and gold, purple Violets +and white. Columbine and Ladysmock, Marjoram and Wild Basil, the +Cowslip and the Flower-de-luce, the Daffodil and 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 +beautiful 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 was the rich +Miller to little Hans, that be would never go by his garden without +leaning 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 friends 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 stored 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 greater pleasure than to +listen to all the wonderful things the Miller used to say about the +unselfishness of true friendship. + +"So little Hans worked away in his garden. During the spring, the +summer, and the autumn he was very happy, but when the winter 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 but a few dried pears or some hard nuts. In the +winter, also, he was extremely lonely, as the Miller never came 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 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, 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 her comfortable armchair by the big pinewood +fire; 'very thoughtful indeed. It is quite a treat to hear you +talk about friendship. I am sure the 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.' + +"'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 silly boy you are'! cried the Miller; '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 saw our warm fire, +and our good supper, and our great cask of red wine, he might get +envious, and envy is a most terrible thing, and would spoil +anybody's nature. I certainly 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 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, and mean quite different things. Everybody can see +that.' + +"'How well you talk'! said the Miller's Wife, 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 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, and began to cry into his tea. However, 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 nowadays starts with 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 a critic who was +walking round the pond with a young man. He spoke of the matter at +great length, 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 your +story. I like the Miller immensely. I have all kinds of beautiful +sentiments 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 stars, 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 with you for +the flowers.' + +"So the Miller tied the sails of the windmill together with a +strong iron chain, and went down the hill with the basket on his +arm. + +"'Good morning, little Hans,' said the Miller. + +"'Good morning,' said Hans, leaning on his spade, and smiling from +ear to ear. + +"'And how have you been all the winter?' said the Miller. + +"'Well, really,' cried Hans, 'it is very good 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 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 +looking, by-the-bye"! + +"'They are certainly very lovely,' said Hans, 'and it is a most +lucky thing for me that I have so many. I am going to bring them +into the market and sell them to the Burgomaster's daughter, and +buy back my wheelbarrow with the 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 I was obliged to. You see +the winter was a very bad time for me, and I really had no money 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; indeed, 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 think me extremely foolish for parting with it, but I +am not like the rest of the world. I think that generosity 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, 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 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 worth +far more 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 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 after 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. Here is the +basket, and mind you fill it quite full.' + +"'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 and he was very anxious to get +his silver buttons back. + +"'Well, really,' answered the Miller, 'as I have given you my +wheelbarrow, I don't think that 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 flowers in my garden. I would much sooner have +your good opinion than 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 his hand. + +"'Good-bye,' said little Hans, and he began to dig away quite +merrily, he was so pleased about the wheelbarrow. + +"The next day 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 over +the wall. + +"There was the 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, really,' 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'; and he ran in for his cap, and trudged off +with the big sack on his shoulders. + +"It was a very hot day, and the road was terribly dusty, and before +Hans had reached the sixth milestone he was so tired that he had to +sit down and rest. However, he went on bravely, and as 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 late 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 next morning the Miller came down to get the money for +his sack of flour, but little Hans was so tired that he was still +in bed. + +"'Upon my word,' said the Miller, 'you are very lazy. Really, +considering that I am going to give you my wheelbarrow, I think you +might work harder. Idleness 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? Anybody can +say charming things and try to please and to flatter, but a true +friend always says unpleasant things, and does not mind giving +pain. Indeed, if he is a really true friend 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 listen 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 want 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 think it would be unfriendly of me if I said I was busy?' +he inquired in a shy and timid voice. + +"'Well, really,' 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 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 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 will come to you,' said the Miller, 'but you must take +more pains. At present you have only the practice of friendship; +some day you will have the theory also.' + +"'Do you really 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 mountain to-morrow.' + +"Poor little Hans was afraid to say anything to this, and early the +next morning the Miller brought his sheep round to the cottage, and +Hans started off with them to the mountain. It took him the whole +day to get there and back; and when he returned he was so tired +that he went off 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 was his best friend. 'Besides,' +he used to say, 'he is going to give 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 took down in +a note-book, and used to read over at night, for he was a very good +scholar. + +"Now it happened that one evening little Hans was sitting by his +fireside when a loud rap came at the door. It was a very wild +night, and the wind was blowing and roaring round the house so +terribly that at first he thought it was merely the storm. But a +second rap came, and then a third, louder than any of the others. + +"'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 ladder and hurt himself, and I am going +for the Doctor. But he lives so far away, and it is such a bad +night, that it has just occurred to me that it would be much better +if you went instead of me. You know I am going to give you my +wheelbarrow, and so, it is only fair that you should 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 you 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 great 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 dreadful 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 there?' cried the Doctor, putting his head out of his +bedroom window. + +"'Little Hans, Doctor.' + +"'What do you want, little Hans?' + +"'The Miller's son has fallen from a ladder, and has hurt himself, +and the Miller wants you to come at once.' + +"'All right!' said the Doctor; and he ordered his horse, and his +big boots, and his lantern, and came downstairs, and rode off in +the direction of the Miller's house, little Hans trudging behind +him. + +"But the storm 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 wandered 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 went to little Hans' funeral, as he was so popular, and +the Miller was the chief mourner. + +"'As I was his 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 Hans 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 loss 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 became 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?" screamed the Water-rat. + +"The moral." + +"Do you mean to say that the story has a moral?" + +"Certainly," 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 fact, I +should have said 'Pooh,' like the critic. However, I can say it +now"; so 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 great 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 is, 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 REMARKABLE ROCKET + + + +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 cap of silver +tissue, and she was as pale as the Snow Palace in which she had +always lived. So pale was she that as she drove through the +streets all the people wondered. "She is like a white rose!" 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 like 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, White rose"; and the King gave orders that the +Page's salary was to be doubled. As he received no salary at all +this was not of much use to him, but it was considered a great +honour, and was duly published in the Court Gazette. + +When the three days were over the marriage was celebrated. It was +a magnificent ceremony, and the bride and bridegroom walked hand in +hand under a canopy of purple velvet embroidered with little +pearls. Then there was a State Banquet, which lasted for five +hours. The Prince and Princess sat at the top of the Great Hall +and drank out of a cup of clear crystal. Only true lovers could +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 bride and bridegroom +were to dance the Rose-dance together, and the King had promised 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 Royal +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 walking on the terrace. + +"They are like 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 certainly 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 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, you foolish squib," said a big +Roman Candle; "the world is an enormous place, and it would 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 in early +life, and prided herself on her broken heart; "but love is not +fashionable any more, the poets have killed it. They wrote so much +about it that nobody believed them, and I am not surprised. True +love suffers, and is silent. I remember myself once--But it is no +matter now. 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 a brown-paper cartridge, who happened to be staying in +the same drawer as myself, and knew the latest Court news." + +But the Catherine Wheel shook her head. "Romance is dead, Romance +is dead, Romance is 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 the end. + +Suddenly, a sharp, dry cough was heard, and they all looked round. + +It came from a tall, supercilious-looking Rocket, who was tied to +the end of a long stick. He always coughed before he made any +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 part 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 shoulder +of the person to whom he was talking. In fact, he had a most +distinguished manner. + +"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, "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 very 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 kindly disposition, and he +made a most brilliant descent in a shower of golden rain. The +newspapers wrote about 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 squibs, 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?" + +"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 who, 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." + +"I am laughing because I am happy," replied the Cracker. + +"That is a very 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. It is a beautiful virtue, and I possess +it in a high degree. Suppose, for instance, anything happened to +me to-night, what a misfortune that would be for every one! The +Prince and Princess would never 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," exclaimed the Bengal Light, who was now in better +spirits; "that is only common sense." + +"Common sense, 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 +myself dry, there is evidently no one here who can at all +appreciate an emotional nature. Fortunately for myself, I don't +care. The only thing that 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 merry 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 talk +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 out 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 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 would be 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 their only son, +I certainly am very much affected." + +"You certainly 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 don't even know him," growled the Roman Candle. + +"I never said 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 thing to know one's friends." + +"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 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 have a truly romantic nature," said the Catherine Wheel, +"for he weeps when there is nothing at all to weep about"; and she +heaved a deep sigh, and thought about the deal box. + +But the Roman Candle and the Bengal Light were quite indignant, and +kept saying, "Humbug! humbug!" at the top of their voices. They +were extremely practical, and whenever they objected to anything +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 the window and +watched them, and the great red poppies nodded 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 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 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 +could not 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 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 they are reserving me for some grand occasion," said the +Rocket; "no doubt 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 +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 away to recruit +my health. My nerves are certainly very much shattered, and I +require rest." + +Then a little Frog, with bright jewelled eyes, 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 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 croak, 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 duck 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 fact, 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 oneself 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 look for my +daughters. I have six beautiful 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. Well, good-bye: I have +enjoyed our conversation 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, 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 very irritating person," said the Rocket, "and very ill- +bred. I hate people who talk about themselves, 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 by me; you +could not possibly have a better model. Now that you have the +chance you had better avail 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 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 talking 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 all by myself, and I am so clever +that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am +saying." + +"Then you should 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 silly of him not to stay here!" said the Rocket. "I am +sure that he has not often got such a chance of improving his mind. +However, I don't care a bit. Genius like mine is sure to be +appreciated 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 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 it the result of an +accident?" + +"It is quite evident that you have always lived 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 that I can fly up into the sky, and come down in a shower of +golden rain." + +"I don't think 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 see that you belong to the lower orders. A person of my +position is never useful. We have certain accomplishments, and +that is more than sufficient. I have no sympathy myself with +industry of any kind, least of all with such industries as you seem +to recommend. Indeed, I have always been of opinion that hard work +is simply the refuge of people who have nothing whatever to do." + +"Well, well," said the Duck, who was of a very peaceable +disposition, and never 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. "I am merely a visitor, a +distinguished visitor. The fact is that I find this place rather +tedious. There is neither society here, nor solitude. In fact, it +is essentially suburban. I shall probably go back to Court, for I +know that I am destined to make a sensation in the world." + +"I had thoughts of entering public life once myself," remarked the +Duck; "there are so many things that need reforming. Indeed, I +took the chair at a meeting some time 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 after my family." + + "I am made for public life," said the Rocket, "and so are all my +relations, even the humblest of them. Whenever we appear we excite +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 rapidly, and distracts one's mind from higher things." + +"Ah! the higher things of life, how fine they are!" said the Duck; +"and that reminds me how hungry I feel": and 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"; but the Duck paid no attention to him. "I am glad +that she has gone," he said to himself, "she 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 +two little boys in white smocks came running down the bank, with a +kettle and some 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"; and he picked the 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 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 very damp, so he took a long time 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 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 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, and make 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 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 water. + +"I knew I should create a great sensation," gasped the Rocket, and +he went out. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE HAPPY PRINCE AND OTHER TALES *** + +This file should be named hpaot10.txt or hpaot10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, hpaot11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, hpaot10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/hpaot10.zip b/old/hpaot10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c4f23d3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/hpaot10.zip diff --git a/old/hpaot10h.htm b/old/hpaot10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f86d41e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/hpaot10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1904 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>The Happy Prince and Other Tales</title> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">The Happy Prince and Other Tales, by Oscar Wilde</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Happy Prince and Other Tales, by Oscar Wilde +(#12 in our series by Oscar Wilde) + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Happy Prince and Other Tales + +Author: Oscar Wilde + +Release Date: May, 1997 [EBook #902] +[This file was first posted on May 6, 1997] +[Most recently updated: May 12, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1910 edition by David Price, email +ccx074@coventry.ac.uk. Second proof by Paul Redmond.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h1>THE HAPPY PRINCE AND OTHER TALES</h1> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>Contents</p> +<p>The Happy Prince<br />The Nightingale and the Rose<br />The Selfish +Giant<br />The Devoted Friend<br />The Remarkable Rocket</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE HAPPY PRINCE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy +Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, +for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on +his sword-hilt.</p> +<p>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 quite +so useful,” he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, +which he really was not.</p> +<p>“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 crying for anything.”</p> +<p>“I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy,” +muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.</p> +<p>“He looks just like an angel,” said the Charity Children +as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks and +their clean white pinafores.</p> +<p>“How do you know?” said the Mathematical Master, “you +have never seen one.”</p> +<p>“Ah! but we have, in our dreams,” answered the children; +and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did +not approve of children dreaming.</p> +<p>One night there flew 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 attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to +talk to her.</p> +<p>“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 he flew +round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver +ripples. This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the +summer.</p> +<p>“It is a ridiculous attachment,” twittered the other +Swallows; “she has no money, and far too many relations”; +and indeed the river was quite full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn +came they all flew away.</p> +<p>After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady-love. +“She has no conversation,” he said, “and I am 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,” he continued, +“but I love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should love +travelling also.”</p> +<p>“Will you come away with me?” he said finally to her; +but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home.</p> +<p>“You have been trifling with me,” he cried. “I +am off to the Pyramids. Good-bye!” and he flew away.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>Then he saw the statue on the tall column.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“I have a golden bedroom,” he said softly to himself +as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was +putting his head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him. +“What a curious thing!” he cried; “there is not a +single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet +it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful. +The Reed used to like the rain, but that was merely her selfishness.”</p> +<p>Then another drop fell.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked +up, and saw—Ah! what did he see?</p> +<p>The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were +running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the +moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.</p> +<p>“Who are you?” he said.</p> +<p>“I am the Happy Prince.”</p> +<p>“Why are you weeping then?” asked the Swallow; “you +have quite drenched me.”</p> +<p>“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 daytime +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 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 up here +so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, +and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot chose but weep.”</p> +<p>“What! is he not solid gold?” said the Swallow to himself. +He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud.</p> +<p>“Far away,” continued the statue in a low musical 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 has coarse, red hands, +all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering +passion-flowers on a satin 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 her little 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 you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet +are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move.”</p> +<p>“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 they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The +King is there himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in +yellow linen, and embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain +of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered leaves.”</p> +<p>“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, +“will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? +The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad.”</p> +<p>“I don’t think I like boys,” answered the Swallow. +“Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two +rude 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.”</p> +<p>But the Happy Prince 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.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, little Swallow,” said the Prince.</p> +<p>So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince’s +sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.</p> +<p>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!”</p> +<p>“I hope my dress 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.”</p> +<p>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 scales. +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. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside +the woman’s thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, +fanning the boy’s forehead with his wings. “How cool +I feel,” said the boy, “I must be getting better”; +and he sank into a delicious slumber.</p> +<p>Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what +he had done. “It is curious,” he remarked, “but +I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold.”</p> +<p>“That is because 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.</p> +<p>When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. “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 it to the local newspaper. Every +one quoted it, it was full of so many words that they could not understand.</p> +<p>“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 chirruped, and said to each other, “What a distinguished +stranger!” so he enjoyed himself very much.</p> +<p>When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. “Have +you any commissions for Egypt?” he cried; “I am just starting.”</p> +<p>“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, +“will you not stay with me one night longer?”</p> +<p>“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 among the bulrushes, and on a great granite +throne sits the God Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, +and when 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 their roar +is louder than the roar of the cataract.</p> +<p>“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, +“far away across the city I see a young man in a garret. +He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his +side there 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.”</p> +<p>“I will wait with you one night longer,” said the Swallow, +who really had a good heart. “Shall I take him another ruby?”</p> +<p>“Alas! I have no ruby now,” said the Prince; “my +eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, +which 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.”</p> +<p>“Dear Prince,” said the Swallow, “I cannot do that”; +and he began to weep.</p> +<p>“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, +“do as I command you.”</p> +<p>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 +there was a hole in the roof. Through 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.</p> +<p>“I am beginning to be appreciated,” he cried; “this +is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play,” and +he looked quite happy.</p> +<p>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”! cried +the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back +to the Happy Prince.</p> +<p>“I am come to bid you good-bye,” he cried.</p> +<p>“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, +“will you not stay with me one night longer?”</p> +<p>“It is winter,” answered the Swallow, “and the +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 the Temple of +Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching them, 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 place 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.”</p> +<p>“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 not bring home some money, and she is crying. She has +no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare. Pluck out +my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not beat her.”</p> +<p>“I will stay with you one night longer,” said the Swallow, +“but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind +then.”</p> +<p>“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, +“do as I command you.”</p> +<p>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,” +cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing.</p> +<p>Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. “You are blind +now,” he said, “so I will stay with you always.”</p> +<p>“No, little Swallow,” said the poor Prince, “you +must go away to Egypt.”</p> +<p>“I will stay with you always,” said the Swallow, and +he slept at the Prince’s feet.</p> +<p>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-fish 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 crystal; 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 +large flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.</p> +<p>“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, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there.”</p> +<p>So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making +merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the +gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving +children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the +archway of a bridge two little boys 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 the Watchman, +and they wandered out into the rain.</p> +<p>Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.</p> +<p>“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 them happy.”</p> +<p>Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the +Happy Prince looked quite dull 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. “We +have bread now!” they cried.</p> +<p>Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The +streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright 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.</p> +<p>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 warm by flapping his wings.</p> +<p>But at last he knew 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?”</p> +<p>“I am glad that 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.”</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at +his feet.</p> +<p>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 was a dreadfully hard frost.</p> +<p>Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below +in company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column +he looked up at the statue: “Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince +looks!” he said.</p> +<p>“How shabby indeed!” cried the Town Councillors, who +always agreed with the Mayor; and they went up to look at it.</p> +<p>“The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and +he is golden no longer,” said the Mayor in fact, “he is +litttle beter than a beggar!”</p> +<p>“Little better than a beggar,” said the Town Councillors.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. “As +he is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful,” said the Art +Professor at the University.</p> +<p>Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting +of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. +“We must have another statue, of course,” he said, “and +it shall be a statue of myself.”</p> +<p>“Of myself,” said each of the Town Councillors, and they +quarrelled. When I last heard of them they were quarrelling still.</p> +<p>“What a strange 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.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“You have rightly chosen,” said God, “for in my +garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in +my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE ROSE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“She said that 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.”</p> +<p>From her nest in the holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and +she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.</p> +<p>“No red rose in all my garden!” he cried, and his beautiful +eyes filled with tears. “Ah, on what little things does +happiness depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, +and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose +is my life made wretched.”</p> +<p>“Here at last is a true lover,” said the Nightingale. +“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 sorrow has set her seal upon his brow.”</p> +<p>“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 will 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.”</p> +<p>“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. 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. It may +not be purchased of the merchants, nor can it be weighed out in the +balance for gold.”</p> +<p>“The musicians 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.</p> +<p>“Why is he weeping?” asked a little Green Lizard, as +he ran past him with his tail in the air.</p> +<p>“Why, indeed?” said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about +after a sunbeam.</p> +<p>“Why, indeed?” whispered a Daisy to his neighbour, in +a soft, low voice.</p> +<p>“He is weeping for a red rose,” said the Nightingale.</p> +<p>“For a red rose?” they cried; “how very ridiculous!” +and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright.</p> +<p>But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student’s +sorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and thought about the mystery +of Love.</p> +<p>Suddenly she spread 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Give me a red rose,” she cried, “and I will sing +you my sweetest song.”</p> +<p>But the Tree shook its head.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round +the old sun-dial.</p> +<p>“Give me a red rose,” she cried, “and I will sing +you my sweetest song.”</p> +<p>But the Tree shook its head.</p> +<p>“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 beneath the Student’s +window, and perhaps he will give you what you want.”</p> +<p>So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath +the Student’s window.</p> +<p>“Give me a red rose,” she cried, “and I will sing +you my sweetest song.”</p> +<p>But the Tree shook its head.</p> +<p>“My roses are red,” it answered, “as red as the +feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral that wave +and wave in the ocean-cavern. But the winter has chilled my veins, +and the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, +and I shall have no roses at all this year.”</p> +<p>“One red rose is all I want,” cried the Nightingale, +“only one red rose! Is there no way by which I can get it?”</p> +<p>“There is away,” answered the Tree; “but it is +so terrible that I dare not tell it to you.”</p> +<p>“Tell it to me,” said the Nightingale, “I am not +afraid.”</p> +<p>“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 breast against a thorn. All night +long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and +your life-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine.”</p> +<p>“Death is a great price to pay for a red rose,” 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, 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?”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Be happy,” 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.”</p> +<p>The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could +not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him, for he only knew +the things that are written down in books.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Sing me one last song,” he whispered; “I shall +feel very lonely when you are gone.”</p> +<p>So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water +bubbling from a silver jar.</p> +<p>When she had finished her song the Student got up, and pulled a note-book +and a lead-pencil out of his pocket.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>And when the Moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the +Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long +she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon +leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn +went deeper and deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away +from her.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the +thorn. “Press closer, little Nightingale,” cried the +Tree, “or the Day will come before the rose is finished.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>And a delicate flush 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.</p> +<p>And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the +thorn. “Press closer, little Nightingale,” cried the +Tree, “or the Day will come before the rose is finished.”</p> +<p>So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn +touched her heart, and a fierce 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 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.</p> +<p>“Look, look!” cried the Tree, “the rose is finished +now”; but the Nightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead +in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart.</p> +<p>And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out.</p> +<p>“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 beautiful that I am sure it has a long Latin name”; and +he leaned down and plucked it.</p> +<p>Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor’s house +with the rose in his hand.</p> +<p>The daughter of the Professor was sitting in the doorway winding +blue silk on a reel, and her little dog was lying at her feet.</p> +<p>“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 you how I love you.”</p> +<p>But the girl frowned.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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 got silver buckles to your +shoes as the Chamberlain’s nephew has”; and she got up from +her chair and went into the house.</p> +<p>“What I a silly thing Love is,” said the Student as he +walked away. “It is not half 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 that 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.”</p> +<p>So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and +began to read.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE SELFISH GIANT</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used +to go and play in the Giant’s garden.</p> +<p>It was a large lovely 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 sang 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.</p> +<p>One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit 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. +When he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden.</p> +<p>“What are you doing here?” he cried in a very gruff voice, +and the children ran away.</p> +<p>“My own garden 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.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>TRESPASSERS<br />WILL BE<br />PROSECUTED</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>He was a very selfish Giant.</p> +<p>The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried 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 happy we were there,” they said to each other.</p> +<p>Then the Spring came, 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 did not care to sing in it as there +were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom. Once a beautiful +flower 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.” The Snow covered up the grass with her great 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 all day 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 of the slates, and then he ran round and round the garden as fast +as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and his breath was like +ice.</p> +<p>“I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming,” +said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his +cold white garden; “I hope there will be a change in the weather.”</p> +<p>But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn 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.</p> +<p>One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely +music. It sounded so sweet to his ears that 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 sing 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 +came to him through the open casement. “I believe the Spring +has come at last,” said the Giant; and he jumped out of bed and +looked out.</p> +<p>What did he see?</p> +<p>He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in the +wall the children 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 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 still quite covered +with frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing and roaring above +it. “Climb up! little boy,” said the Tree, and it +bent its branches down as low as it could; but the boy was too tiny.</p> +<p>And the Giant’s heart melted as he looked out. “How +selfish I have been!” he said; “now I know why the Spring +would not come here. I will put that poor 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.</p> +<p>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 Giant 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 blossom, 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 knocked down the wall. And when the people 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.</p> +<p>All day long they played, and in the evening they came to the Giant +to bid him good-bye.</p> +<p>“But where is your little companion?” he said: “the +boy I put into the tree.” The Giant loved him the best because +he had kissed him.</p> +<p>“We don’t know,” answered the children; “he +has gone away.”</p> +<p>“You must tell him to be sure and come here to-morrow,” +said the Giant. But the children said that they did not know where +he lived, and had never seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad.</p> +<p>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 Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he +longed for his first little friend, and often spoke of him. “How +I would like to see him!” he used to say.</p> +<p>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 flowers of all.”</p> +<p>One winter morning 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.</p> +<p>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 white blossoms. +Its branches were all golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, +and underneath it stood the little boy he had loved.</p> +<p>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 he 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 nails were on the little feet.</p> +<p>“Who hath dared to wound thee?” cried the Giant; “tell +me, that I may take my big sword and slay him.”</p> +<p>“Nay!” answered the child; “but these are the wounds +of Love.”</p> +<p>“Who art thou?” said the Giant, and a strange awe fell +on him, and he knelt before the little child.</p> +<p>And the child smiled 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.”</p> +<p>And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant +lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE DEVOTED FRIEND</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>One morning the old Water-rat put his head out of his hole. +He had bright beady eyes and stiff grey whiskers and his tail was like +a long bit of black india-rubber. The little ducks were swimming +about in the pond, looking just like a lot of yellow canaries, and their +mother, who was pure white with real red legs, was trying to teach them +how to stand on their heads in the water.</p> +<p>“You will never be in the best society unless you can stand +on your heads,” she kept saying to them; and every now and then +she showed them how it was done. But the little ducks paid no +attention to her. They were so young that they did not know what +an advantage it is to be in society at all.</p> +<p>“What disobedient children!” cried the old Water-rat; +“they really deserve to be drowned.”</p> +<p>“Nothing of the kind,” answered the Duck, “every +one must make a beginning, and parents cannot be too patient.”</p> +<p>“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 know of nothing +in the world that is either nobler or rarer than a devoted friendship.”</p> +<p>“And what, pray, 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.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“What a silly question!” cried the Water-rat. “I +should expect my devoted friend to be devoted to me, of course.”</p> +<p>“And what would you do in return?” said the little bird, +swinging upon a silver spray, and flapping his tiny wings.</p> +<p>“I don’t understand you,” answered the Water-rat.</p> +<p>“Let me tell you a story on the subject,” said the Linnet.</p> +<p>“Is the story about me?” asked the Water-rat. “If +so, I will listen to it, for I am extremely fond of fiction.”</p> +<p>“It is applicable to you,” answered the Linnet; and he +flew down, and alighting upon the bank, he told the story of The Devoted +Friend.</p> +<p>“Once upon a time,” said the Linnet, “there was +an honest little fellow named Hans.”</p> +<p>“Was he very distinguished?” asked the Water-rat.</p> +<p>“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 were damask Roses, and yellow Roses, lilac Crocuses, and gold, +purple Violets and white. Columbine and Ladysmock, Marjoram and +Wild Basil, the Cowslip and the Flower-de-luce, the Daffodil and 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 beautiful things to look at, and pleasant odours to smell.</p> +<p>“Little Hans had a great many friends, but the most devoted +friend of all was big Hugh the Miller. Indeed, so devoted was +the rich Miller to little Hans, that be would never go by his garden +without leaning 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.</p> +<p>“‘Real friends 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.</p> +<p>“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 stored 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 greater pleasure than +to listen to all the wonderful things the Miller used to say about the +unselfishness of true friendship.</p> +<p>“So little Hans worked away in his garden. During the +spring, the summer, and the autumn he was very happy, but when the winter +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 but a few dried pears or some hard nuts. In the winter, +also, he was extremely lonely, as the Miller never came to see him then.</p> +<p>“‘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 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, 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.’</p> +<p>“‘You are certainly very thoughtful about others,’ +answered the Wife, as she sat in her comfortable armchair by the big +pinewood fire; ‘very thoughtful indeed. It is quite a treat +to hear you talk about friendship. I am sure the 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.’</p> +<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.’</p> +<p>“‘What a silly boy you are’! cried the Miller; +‘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 saw our warm fire, and our good supper, and our great cask of red +wine, he might get envious, and envy is a most terrible thing, and would +spoil anybody’s nature. I certainly 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 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, and mean quite different things. Everybody +can see that.’</p> +<p>“‘How well you talk’! said the Miller’s Wife, +pouring herself out a large glass of warm ale; ‘really I feel +quite drowsy. It is just like being in church.’</p> +<p>“‘Lots of people 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, +and began to cry into his tea. However, he was so young that you +must excuse him.”</p> +<p>“Is that the end of the story?” asked the Water-rat.</p> +<p>“Certainly not,” answered the Linnet, “that is +the beginning.”</p> +<p>“Then you are quite behind the age,” said the Water-rat. +“Every good story-teller nowadays starts with 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 a critic +who was walking round the pond with a young man. He spoke of the +matter at great length, 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 your story. I like the Miller immensely. I have +all kinds of beautiful sentiments myself, so there is a great sympathy +between us.”</p> +<p>“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 stars, the Miller said to his wife that +he would go down and see little Hans.</p> +<p>“‘Why, what a good heart you have’! cried his Wife; +‘you are always thinking of others. And mind you take the +big basket with you for the flowers.’</p> +<p>“So the Miller tied the sails of the windmill together with +a strong iron chain, and went down the hill with the basket on his arm.</p> +<p>“‘Good morning, little Hans,’ said the Miller.</p> +<p>“‘Good morning,’ said Hans, leaning on his spade, +and smiling from ear to ear.</p> +<p>“‘And how have you been all the winter?’ said the +Miller.</p> +<p>“‘Well, really,’ cried Hans, ‘it is very +good 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.’</p> +<p>“‘We often talked of you during the winter, Hans,’ +said the Miller, ‘and wondered how you were getting on.’</p> +<p>“‘That was kind of you,’ said Hans; ‘I was +half afraid you had forgotten me.’</p> +<p>“‘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 looking, by-the-bye”!</p> +<p>“‘They are certainly very lovely,’ said Hans, ‘and +it is a most lucky thing for me that I have so many. I am going +to bring them into the market and sell them to the Burgomaster’s +daughter, and buy back my wheelbarrow with the money.’</p> +<p>“‘Buy back your wheelbarrow? You don’t mean +to say you have sold it? What a very stupid thing to do’!</p> +<p>“‘Well, the fact is,’ said Hans, ‘that I +was obliged to. You see the winter was a very bad time for me, +and I really had no money 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.’</p> +<p>“‘Hans,’ said the Miller, ‘I will give you +my wheelbarrow. It is not in very good repair; indeed, 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 think me extremely foolish for +parting with it, but I am not like the rest of the world. I think +that generosity 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.’</p> +<p>“‘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.’</p> +<p>“‘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 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 worth far more 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.’</p> +<p>“‘Certainly,’ cried little Hans, and he ran into +the shed and dragged the plank out.</p> +<p>“‘It is not a very big plank,’ said the Miller, +looking at it, ‘and I am afraid that after 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. Here is the basket, and mind you fill it quite full.’</p> +<p>“‘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 and he was very anxious +to get his silver buttons back.</p> +<p>“‘Well, really,’ answered the Miller, ‘as +I have given you my wheelbarrow, I don’t think that 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.’</p> +<p>“‘My dear friend, my best friend,’ cried little +Hans, ‘you are welcome to all the flowers in my garden. +I would much sooner have your good opinion than my silver buttons, any +day’; and he ran and plucked all his pretty primroses, and filled +the Miller’s basket.</p> +<p>“‘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.</p> +<p>“‘Good-bye,’ said little Hans, and he began to +dig away quite merrily, he was so pleased about the wheelbarrow.</p> +<p>“The next day 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 over the wall.</p> +<p>“There was the Miller with a large sack of flour on his back.</p> +<p>“‘Dear little Hans,’ said the Miller, ‘would +you mind carrying this sack of flour for me to market?’</p> +<p>“‘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.’</p> +<p>“‘Well, really,’ said the Miller, ‘I think +that, considering that I am going to give you my wheelbarrow, it is +rather unfriendly of you to refuse.’</p> +<p>“‘Oh, don’t say that,’ cried little Hans, +‘I wouldn’t be unfriendly for the whole world’; and +he ran in for his cap, and trudged off with the big sack on his shoulders.</p> +<p>“It was a very hot day, and the road was terribly dusty, and +before Hans had reached the sixth milestone he was so tired that he +had to sit down and rest. However, he went on bravely, and as +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 late he might +meet some robbers on the way.</p> +<p>“‘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.’</p> +<p>“Early the next morning the Miller came down to get the money +for his sack of flour, but little Hans was so tired that he was still +in bed.</p> +<p>“‘Upon my word,’ said the Miller, ‘you are +very lazy. Really, considering that I am going to give you my +wheelbarrow, I think you might work harder. Idleness 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? Anybody can say charming things and try to please and to +flatter, but a true friend always says unpleasant things, and does not +mind giving pain. Indeed, if he is a really true friend he prefers +it, for he knows that then he is doing good.’</p> +<p>“‘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 listen to the birds +singing. Do you know that I always work better after hearing the +birds sing?’</p> +<p>“‘Well, I am glad of that,’ said the Miller, clapping +little Hans on the back, ‘for I want you to come up to the mill +as soon as you are dressed, and mend my barn-roof for me.’</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“‘Do you think it would be unfriendly of me if I said +I was busy?’ he inquired in a shy and timid voice.</p> +<p>“‘Well, really,’ 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.’</p> +<p>“‘Oh! on no account,’ cried little Hans and he +jumped out of bed, and dressed himself, and went up to the barn.</p> +<p>“He worked there all day long, till sunset, and at sunset the +Miller came to see how he was getting on.</p> +<p>“‘Have you mended the hole in the roof yet, little Hans?’ +cried the Miller in a cheery voice.</p> +<p>“‘It is quite mended,’ answered little Hans, coming +down the ladder.</p> +<p>“‘Ah’! said the Miller, ‘there is no work +so delightful as the work one does for others.’</p> +<p>“‘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.’</p> +<p>“‘Oh! they will come to you,’ said the Miller, +‘but you must take more pains. At present you have only +the practice of friendship; some day you will have the theory also.’</p> +<p>“‘Do you really think I shall?’ asked little Hans.</p> +<p>“‘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 mountain to-morrow.’</p> +<p>“Poor little Hans was afraid to say anything to this, and early +the next morning the Miller brought his sheep round to the cottage, +and Hans started off with them to the mountain. It took him the +whole day to get there and back; and when he returned he was so tired +that he went off to sleep in his chair, and did not wake up till it +was broad daylight.</p> +<p>“‘What a delightful time I shall have in my garden,’ +he said, and he went to work at once.</p> +<p>“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 was his best friend. ‘Besides,’ he +used to say, ‘he is going to give me his wheelbarrow, and that +is an act of pure generosity.’</p> +<p>“So little Hans worked away for the Miller, and the Miller +said all kinds of beautiful things about friendship, which Hans took +down in a note-book, and used to read over at night, for he was a very +good scholar.</p> +<p>“Now it happened that one evening little Hans was sitting by +his fireside when a loud rap came at the door. It was a very wild +night, and the wind was blowing and roaring round the house so terribly +that at first he thought it was merely the storm. But a second +rap came, and then a third, louder than any of the others.</p> +<p>“‘It is some poor traveller,’ said little Hans +to himself, and he ran to the door.</p> +<p>“There stood the Miller with a lantern in one hand and a big +stick in the other.</p> +<p>“‘Dear little Hans,’ cried the Miller, ‘I +am in great trouble. My little boy has fallen off a ladder and +hurt himself, and I am going for the Doctor. But he lives so far +away, and it is such a bad night, that it has just occurred to me that +it would be much better if you went instead of me. You know I +am going to give you my wheelbarrow, and so, it is only fair that you +should do something for me in return.’</p> +<p>“‘Certainly,’ cried little Hans, ‘I take +it quite as a compliment your coming to me, and I will start off at +once. But you must lend me your lantern, as the night is so dark +that I am afraid I might fall into the ditch.’</p> +<p>“‘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 to it.’</p> +<p>“‘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.</p> +<p>“What a dreadful 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.</p> +<p>“‘Who is there?’ cried the Doctor, putting his +head out of his bedroom window.</p> +<p>“‘Little Hans, Doctor.’</p> +<p>“’What do you want, little Hans?’</p> +<p>“‘The Miller’s son has fallen from a ladder, and +has hurt himself, and the Miller wants you to come at once.’</p> +<p>“‘All right!’ said the Doctor; and he ordered his +horse, and his big boots, and his lantern, and came downstairs, and +rode off in the direction of the Miller’s house, little Hans trudging +behind him.</p> +<p>“But the storm 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 wandered 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.</p> +<p>“Everybody went to little Hans’ funeral, as he was so +popular, and the Miller was the chief mourner.</p> +<p>“‘As I was his 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.</p> +<p>“‘Little Hans 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.</p> +<p>“‘A great loss 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.’”</p> +<p>“Well?” said the Water-rat, after a long pause.</p> +<p>“Well, that is the end,” said the Linnet.</p> +<p>“But what became of the Miller?” asked the Water-rat.</p> +<p>“Oh! I really don’t know,” replied the Linnet; +“and I am sure that I don’t care.”</p> +<p>“It is quite evident then that you have no sympathy in your +nature,” said the Water-rat.</p> +<p>“I am afraid you don’t quite see the moral of the story,” +remarked the Linnet.</p> +<p>“The what?” screamed the Water-rat.</p> +<p>“The moral.”</p> +<p>“Do you mean to say that the story has a moral?”</p> +<p>“Certainly,” said the Linnet.</p> +<p>“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 fact, +I should have said ‘Pooh,’ like the critic. However, +I can say it now”; so he shouted out “Pooh” at the +top of his voice, gave a whisk with his tail, and went back into his +hole.</p> +<p>“And how do you like the Water-rat?” asked the Duck, +who came paddling up some minutes afterwards. “He has a +great 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.”</p> +<p>“I am rather afraid that I have annoyed him,” answered +the Linnet. “The fact is, that I told him a story with a +moral.”</p> +<p>“Ah! that is always a very dangerous thing to do,” said +the Duck.</p> +<p>And I quite agree with her.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE REMARKABLE ROCKET</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>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 cap of silver tissue, +and she was as pale as the Snow Palace in which she had always lived. +So pale was she that as she drove through the streets all the people +wondered. “She is like a white rose!” they cried, +and they threw down flowers on her from the balconies.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Your picture was beautiful,” he murmured, “but +you are more beautiful than your picture”; and the little Princess +blushed.</p> +<p>“She was like 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.</p> +<p>For the next three days everybody went about saying, “White +rose, Red rose, Red rose, White rose”; and the King gave orders +that the Page’s salary was to be doubled. As he received +no salary at all this was not of much use to him, but it was considered +a great honour, and was duly published in the Court Gazette.</p> +<p>When the three days were over the marriage was celebrated. +It was a magnificent ceremony, and the bride and bridegroom walked hand +in hand under a canopy of purple velvet embroidered with little pearls. +Then there was a State Banquet, which lasted for five hours. The +Prince and Princess sat at the top of the Great Hall and drank out of +a cup of clear crystal. Only true lovers could drink out of this +cup, for if false lips touched it, it grew grey and dull and cloudy.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>After the banquet there was to be a Ball. The bride and bridegroom +were to dance the Rose-dance together, and the King had promised 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!”</p> +<p>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 Royal +Pyrotechnist should be in attendance on the day of her marriage.</p> +<p>“What are fireworks like?” she had asked the Prince, +one morning, as she was walking on the terrace.</p> +<p>“They are like 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 certainly see them.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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 see it thoroughly.”</p> +<p>“Any place you 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 killed it. They wrote +so much about it that nobody believed them, and I am not surprised. +True love suffers, and is silent. I remember myself once—But +it is no matter now. Romance is a thing of the past.”</p> +<p>“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 a brown-paper cartridge, who happened +to be staying in the same drawer as myself, and knew the latest Court +news.”</p> +<p>But the Catherine Wheel shook her head. “Romance is dead, +Romance is dead, Romance is 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 the end.</p> +<p>Suddenly, a sharp, dry cough was heard, and they all looked round.</p> +<p>It came from a tall, supercilious-looking Rocket, who was tied to +the end of a long stick. He always coughed before he made any +observation, so as to attract attention.</p> +<p>“Ahem! ahem!” he said, and everybody listened except +the poor Catherine Wheel, who was still shaking her head, and murmuring, +“Romance is dead.”</p> +<p>“Order! order!” cried out a Cracker. He was something +of a politician, and had always taken a prominent part in the local +elections, so he knew the proper Parliamentary expressions to use.</p> +<p>“Quite dead,” whispered the Catherine Wheel, and she +went off to sleep.</p> +<p>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 shoulder +of the person to whom he was talking. In fact, he had a most distinguished +manner.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Dear me!” 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.”</p> +<p>“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 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 kindly disposition, +and he made a most brilliant descent in a shower of golden rain. +The newspapers wrote about his performance in very flattering terms. +Indeed, the Court Gazette called him a triumph of Pylotechnic art.”</p> +<p>“Pyrotechnic, Pyrotechnic, you mean,” said a Bengal Light; +“I know it is Pyrotechnic, for I saw it written on my own canister.”</p> +<p>“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 squibs, in order to show that he was still +a person of some importance.</p> +<p>“I was saying,” continued the Rocket, “I was saying—What +was I saying?”</p> +<p>“You were talking about yourself,” replied the Roman +Candle.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“What is a sensitive person?” said the Cracker to the +Roman Candle.</p> +<p>“A person who, 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.</p> +<p>“Pray, what are you laughing at?” inquired the Rocket; +“I am not laughing.”</p> +<p>“I am laughing because I am happy,” replied the Cracker.</p> +<p>“That is a very 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. It is a beautiful +virtue, and I possess it in a high degree. Suppose, for instance, +anything happened to me to-night, what a misfortune that would be for +every one! The Prince and Princess would never 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.”</p> +<p>“If you want to give pleasure to others,” cried the Roman +Candle, “you had better keep yourself dry.”</p> +<p>“Certainly,” exclaimed the Bengal Light, who was now +in better spirits; “that is only common sense.”</p> +<p>“Common sense, 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 +myself dry, there is evidently no one here who can at all appreciate +an emotional nature. Fortunately for myself, I don’t care. +The only thing that 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 merry just as if the Prince and Princess +had not just been married.”</p> +<p>“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 talk to them about the pretty bride.”</p> +<p>“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 out 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.”</p> +<p>“But they have not lost their only son,” said the Roman +Candle; “no misfortune has happened to them at all.”</p> +<p>“I never said that they had,” replied the Rocket; “I +said that they might. If they had lost their only son there would +be 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 +their only son, I certainly am very much affected.”</p> +<p>“You certainly are!” cried the Bengal Light. “In +fact, you are the most affected person I ever met.”</p> +<p>“You are the rudest person I ever met,” said the Rocket, +“and you cannot understand my friendship for the Prince.”</p> +<p>“Why, you don’t even know him,” growled the Roman +Candle.</p> +<p>“I never said 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 thing to know one’s friends.”</p> +<p>“You had really better keep yourself dry,” said the Fire-balloon. +“That is the important thing.”</p> +<p>“Very important 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.</p> +<p>“He must have a truly romantic nature,” said the Catherine +Wheel, “for he weeps when there is nothing at all to weep about”; +and she heaved a deep sigh, and thought about the deal box.</p> +<p>But the Roman Candle and the Bengal Light were quite indignant, and +kept saying, “Humbug! humbug!” at the top of their voices. +They were extremely practical, and whenever they objected to anything +they called it humbug.</p> +<p>Then the moon rose like a wonderful silver shield; and the stars +began to shine, and a sound of music came from the palace.</p> +<p>The Prince and Princess were leading the dance. They danced +so beautifully that the tall white lilies peeped in at the window and +watched them, and the great red poppies nodded their heads and beat +time.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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 of whom carried a lighted torch +at the end of a long pole.</p> +<p>It was certainly a magnificent display.</p> +<p>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 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 could +not 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 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.</p> +<p>“I suppose they are reserving me for some grand occasion,” +said the Rocket; “no doubt that is what it means,” and he +looked more supercilious than ever.</p> +<p>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 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.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“It is not comfortable here,” he remarked, “but +no doubt it is some fashionable watering-place, and they have sent me +away to recruit my health. My nerves are certainly very much shattered, +and I require rest.”</p> +<p>Then a little Frog, with bright jewelled eyes, and a green mottled +coat, swam up to him.</p> +<p>“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 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!”</p> +<p>“Ahem! ahem!” said the Rocket, and he began to cough.</p> +<p>“What a delightful voice you have!” cried the Frog. +“Really it is quite like a croak, 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 duck 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 fact, 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 oneself so popular.”</p> +<p>“Ahem! ahem!” said the Rocket angrily. He was very +much annoyed that he could not get a word in.</p> +<p>“A delightful voice, certainly,” continued the 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 +so afraid the Pike may meet them. He is a perfect monster, and +would have no hesitation in breakfasting off them. Well, good-bye: +I have enjoyed our conversation very much, I assure you.”</p> +<p>“Conversation, indeed!” said the Rocket. “You +have talked the whole time yourself. That is not conversation.”</p> +<p>“Somebody must listen,” answered the Frog, “and +I like to do all the talking myself. It saves time, and prevents +arguments.”</p> +<p>“But I like arguments,” said the Rocket.</p> +<p>“I hope not,” said the Frog complacently. “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.</p> +<p>“You are a very irritating person,” said the Rocket, +“and very ill-bred. I hate people who talk about themselves, +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 by me; you +could not possibly have a better model. Now that you have the +chance you had better avail 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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Well, that is his loss, not mine,” answered the Rocket. +“I am not going to stop talking 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 all by myself, +and I am so clever that sometimes I don’t understand a single +word of what I am saying.”</p> +<p>“Then you should certainly lecture on Philosophy,” said +the Dragon-fly; and he spread a pair of lovely gauze wings and soared +away into the sky.</p> +<p>“How very silly of him not to stay here!” said the Rocket. +“I am sure that he has not often got such a chance of improving +his mind. However, I don’t care a bit. Genius like +mine is sure to be appreciated some day”; and he sank down a little +deeper into the mud.</p> +<p>After some time a large White Duck swam up to him. She had +yellow legs, and webbed feet, and was considered a great beauty on account +of her waddle.</p> +<p>“Quack, quack, quack,” she said. “What a +curious shape you are! May I ask were you born like that, or is +it the result of an accident?”</p> +<p>“It is quite evident that you have always lived 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 that I can fly up into the sky, and come down in +a shower of golden rain.”</p> +<p>“I don’t think 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.”</p> +<p>“My good creature,” cried the Rocket in a very 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 that is more than sufficient. I have no sympathy myself with +industry of any kind, least of all with such industries as you seem +to recommend. Indeed, I have always been of opinion that hard +work is simply the refuge of people who have nothing whatever to do.”</p> +<p>“Well, well,” said the Duck, who was of a very peaceable +disposition, and never quarrelled with any one, “everybody has +different tastes. I hope, at any rate, that you are going to take +up your residence here.”</p> +<p>“Oh! dear no,” cried the Rocket. “I am merely +a visitor, a distinguished visitor. The fact is that I find this +place rather tedious. There is neither society here, nor solitude. +In fact, it is essentially suburban. I shall probably go back +to Court, for I know that I am destined to make a sensation in the world.”</p> +<p>“I had thoughts of entering public life once myself,” +remarked the Duck; “there are so many things that need reforming. +Indeed, I took the chair at a meeting some time 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 after my family.”</p> +<p> “I am made for public life,” said the Rocket, “and +so are all my relations, even the humblest of them. Whenever we +appear we excite 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 rapidly, and distracts one’s mind from +higher things.”</p> +<p>“Ah! the higher things of life, how fine they are!” said +the Duck; “and that reminds me how hungry I feel”: and she +swam away down the stream, saying, “Quack, quack, quack.”</p> +<p>“Come back! come back!” screamed the Rocket, “I +have a great deal to say to you”; but the Duck paid no attention +to him. “I am glad that she has gone,” he said to +himself, “she 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 two little boys in white smocks +came running down the bank, with a kettle and some faggots.</p> +<p>“This must be the deputation,” said the Rocket, and he +tried to look very dignified.</p> +<p>“Hallo!” cried one of the boys, “look at this old +stick! I wonder how it came here”; and he picked the rocket +out of the ditch.</p> +<p>“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 the Court dignitaries!”</p> +<p>“Let us put it into the fire!” said the other boy, “it +will help to boil the kettle.”</p> +<p>So they piled the faggots together, and put the Rocket on top, and +lit the fire.</p> +<p>“This is magnificent,” cried the Rocket, “they +are going to let me off in broad day-light, so that every one can see +me.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>The Rocket was very damp, so he took a long time to burn. At +last, however, the fire caught him.</p> +<p>“Now I am going off!” he cried, and he made himself very +stiff and straight. “I know I shall go much higher than +the stars, much higher than the moon, much higher than the sun. +In fact, I shall go so high that—”</p> +<p>Fizz! Fizz! Fizz! and he went straight up into the air.</p> +<p>“Delightful!” he cried, “I shall go on like this +for ever. What a success I am!”</p> +<p>But nobody saw him.</p> +<p>Then he began to feel a curious tingling sensation all over him.</p> +<p>“Now I am going to explode,” he cried. “I +shall set the whole world on fire, and make 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.</p> +<p>But nobody heard him, not even the two little boys, for they were +sound asleep.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Good heavens!” cried the Goose. “It is going +to rain sticks”; and she rushed into the water.</p> +<p>“I knew I should create a great sensation,” gasped the +Rocket, and he went out.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE HAPPY PRINCE AND OTHER TALES ***</p> +<pre> + +******This file should be named hpaot10h.htm or hpaot10h.zip****** +Corrected EDITIONS of our EBooks get a new NUMBER, hpaot11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, hpaot10ah.htm + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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