theturks,whentheysawsuchasightintheair,jumpedsohighthattheirslippersflewabouttheirears.itwaseasytobelieveafterthisthattheprincesswasreallygoingtomarryaturkishangel.

assoonasthemerchant'ssonhadcomedowninhisflyingtrunktothewoodafterthefireworks,hethought,"iwillgobackintothetownnow,andhearwhattheythinkoftheentertainment."itwasverynaturalthatheshouldwishtoknow.andwhatstrangethingspeopledidsay,tobesure!everyonewhomhequestionedhadadifferenttaletotell,thoughtheyallthoughtitverybeautiful.

"'isawtheturkishangelmyself,"saidone;"hehadeyeslikeglitteringstars,andaheadlikefoamingwater."

"heflewinamantleoffire,"criedanother,"andlovelylittlecherubspeepedoutfromthefolds."

heheardmanymorefinethingsabouthimself,andthatthenextdayhewastobemarried.afterthishewentbacktotheforesttoresthimselfinhistrunk.ithaddisappeared!asparkfromthefireworkswhichremainedhadsetitonfire;itwasburnttoashes!sothemerchant'ssoncouldnotflyanymore,norgotomeethisbride.shestoodalldayontheroofwaitingforhim,andmostlikelysheiswaitingtherestill;whilehewandersthroughtheworldtellingfairytales,butnoneofthemsoamusingastheoneherelatedaboutthematches.

theend.

1872

fairytalesofhanschristianandersen

thegardenofparadise

byhanschristianandersen

therewasonceaking'ssonwhohadalargerandmorebeautifulcollectionofbooksthananyoneelseintheworld,andfullofsplendidcopper-plateengravings.hecouldreadandobtaininformationrespectingeverypeopleofeveryland;butnotawordcouldhefindtoexplainthesituationofthegardenofparadise,andthiswasjustwhathemostwishedtoknow.hisgrandmotherhadtoldhimwhenhewasquitealittleboy,justoldenoughtogotoschool,thateachflowerinthegardenofparadisewasasweetcake,thatthepistilswerefullofrichwine,thatononeflowerhistorywaswritten,onanothergeographyortables;sothosewhowishedtolearntheirlessonshadonlytoeatsomeofthecakes,andthemoretheyate,themorehistory,geography,ortablestheyknew.hebelieveditallthen;butashegrewolder,andlearntmoreandmore,hebecamewiseenoughtounderstandthatthesplendorofthegardenofparadisemustbeverydifferenttoallthis."oh,whydidevepluckthefruitfromthetreeofknowledge?whydidadameattheforbiddenfruit?"thoughttheking'sson:"ifihadbeenthereitwouldneverhavehappened,andtherewouldhavebeennosinintheworld."thegardenofparadiseoccupiedallhisthoughtstillhereachedhisseventeenthyear.

onedayhewaswalkingaloneinthewood,whichwashisgreatestpleasure,wheneveningcameon.thecloudsgathered,andtherainpoureddownasiftheskyhadbeenawaterspout;anditwasasdarkasthebottomofawellatmidnight;sometimesheslippedoverthesmoothgrass,orfelloverstonesthatprojectedoutoftherockyverythingwasdrippingwithmoisture,andthepoorprincehadnotadrythreadabouthim.hewasobligedatlasttoclimbovergreatblocksofstone,withwaterspurtingfromthethickmoss.hebegantofeelquitefaint,whenheheardamostsingularrushingnoise,andsawbeforehimalargecave,fromwhichcameablazeofthemiddleofthecaveanimmensefirewasburning,andanoblestag,withitsbranchinghorns,wasplacedonaspitbetweenthetrunksoftwopine-trees.itwasturningslowlybeforethefire,andanelderlywoman,aslargeandstrongasifshehadbeenamanindisguise,satby,throwingonepieceofwoodafteranotherintotheflames.

"comein,"shesaidtotheprince;"sitdownbythefireanddryyourself."

"thereisagreatdraughthere,"saidtheprince,asheseatedhimselfontheground.

"itwillbeworsewhenmysonscomehome,"repliedthewoman;"youarenowinthecavernofthewinds,andmysonsarethefourwindsofheaven:canyouunderstandthat?"