hesprangwithalittlecrookedjumpjustintothelapoftheprincess,whosatonalowgoldenstool.

thenthekingsaid,"thehighestleapwastakenbyhimwhojumpeduptomydaughter;forthereinliesthepoint;butitrequiresheadtoachievethat,andtheskipjackhasshownthathehasahead."

andsohehadtheprincess.

"ijumpedhighest,afterall,"saidtheflea."butit'sallthesame.letherhavethegoose-bonewithitslumpofwaxandbitofstick.ijumpedtothehighest;butinthisworldabodyisrequiredifonewishestobeseen."

andthefleawentintoforeignmilitaryservice,whereitissaidhewaskilled.

thegrasshopperseatedhimselfoutintheditch,andthoughtandconsideredhowthingshappenedintheworld.andhetoosaid,"bodyisrequired!bodyisrequired!"andthenhesanghisownmelancholysong,andfromthatwehavegatheredthisstory,whichtheysayisnottrue,thoughit'sinprint.

theend.

1872

fairytalesofhanschristianandersen

thelastdreamoftheoldoak

byhanschristianandersen

intheforest,highuponthesteepshore,andnotfarfromtheopenseacoast,stoodaveryoldoak-tree.itwasjustthreehundredandsixty-fiveyearsold,butthatlongtimewastothetreeasthesamenumberofdaysmightbetous;wewakebydayandsleepbynight,andthenwehaveourdreams.itisdifferentwiththetree;itisobligedtokeepawakethroughthreeseasonsoftheyear,anddoesnotgetanysleeptillwintercomes.winterisitstimeforrest;itsnightafterthelongdayofspring,summer,andautumn.onmanyawarmsummer,theephemera,thefliesthatexistforonlyaday,hadflutteredabouttheoldoak,enjoyedlifeandfelthappyandif,foramoment,oneofthetinycreaturesrestedononeofhislargefreshleaves,thetreewouldalwayssay,"poorlittlecreature!yourwholelifeconsistsonlyofasingleday.howveryshort.itmustbequitemelancholy."

"melancholy!whatdoyoumean?"thelittlecreaturewouldalwaysreply."everythingaroundmeissowonderfullybrightandwarm,andbeautiful,thatitmakesmejoyous."

"butonlyforoneday,andthenitisallover."

"over!"repeatedthefly;"whatisthemeaningofallover?areyouallovertoo?"

"no;ishallverylikelyliveforthousandsofyourdays,andmydayiswholeseasonslong;indeeditissolongthatyoucouldneverreckonitout."

"no?thenidon'tunderstandyou.youmayhavethousandsofmydays,butihavethousandsofmomentsinwhichicanbemerryandhappy.doesallthebeautyoftheworldceasewhenyoudie?"

"no,"repliedthetree;"itwillcertainlylastmuchlonger,-infinitelylongerthanicaneventhinkof."well,then,"saidthelittlefly,"wehavethesametimetolive;onlywereckondifferently."andthelittlecreaturedancedandfloatedintheair,rejoicinginherdelicatewingsofgauzeandvelvet,rejoicinginthebalmybreezes,ladenwiththefragranceofclover-fieldsandwildroses,elder-blossomsandhoneysuckle,fromthegardenhedges,wildthyme,primroses,andmint,andthescentofallthesewassostrongthattheperfumealmostintoxicatedthelittlefly.thelongandbeautifuldayhadbeensofullofjoyandsweetdelights,thatwhenthesunsanklowitfelttiredofallitshappinessandenjoyment.itswingscouldsustainitnolonger,andgentlyandslowlyitglideddownuponthesoftwavingbladesofgrass,noddeditslittleheadaswellasitcouldnod,andsleptpeacefullyandsweetly.theflywasdead.

"poorlittleephemera!"