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diff --git a/902-h/902-h.htm b/902-h/902-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..81788dd --- /dev/null +++ b/902-h/902-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2916 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Happy Prince, by Oscar Wilde</title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + img { border: none; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + + </style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Happy Prince, by Oscar Wilde</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. 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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