sohastherebeenabridgebuiltbetweenthisworldandthenext.throughthenightofthegravewegazeupwardsbeyondthestarstotheendofallthings.thenweglanceatthepearlofsorrow,inwhichareconcealedthewingswhichshallcarryusawaytoeternalhappiness.

theend.

1872

fairytalesofhanschristianandersen

thelittleelder-treemother

byhanschristianandersen

therewasoncealittleboywhohadcaughtcold;hehadgoneoutandgotwetfeet.nobodyhadtheleastideahowithadhappened;theweatherwasquitedry.hismotherundressedhim,puthimtobed,andorderedtheteapottobebroughtin,thatshemightmakehimagoodcupofteafromtheelder-treeblossoms,whichissowarming.atthesametime,thekind-heartedoldmanwholivedbyhimselfintheupperstoreyofthehousecamein;heledalonelylife,forhehadnowifeandchildren;buthelovedthechildrenofothersverymuch,andhecouldtellsomanyfairytalesandstories,thatitwasapleasuretohearhim.

"now,drinkyourtea,"saidthemother;"perhapsyouwillhearastory."

"yes,ifionlyknewafreshone,"saidtheoldman,andnoddedsmilingly."buthowdidthelittlefellowgethiswetfeet?"hethenasked.

"that,"repliedthemother,"nobodycanunderstand."

"willyoutellmeastory?"askedtheboy.

"yes,ifyoucantellmeasnearlyaspossiblehowdeepisthegutterinthelittlestreetwhereyougotoschool."

"justhalfashighasmytop-boots,"repliedtheboy;"butthenimuststandinthedeepestholes."

"there,nowweknowwhereyougotyourwetfeet,"saidtheoldman."ioughttotellyouastory,buttheworstofitis,idonotknowanymore."

"youcanmakeoneup,"saidthelittleboy."mothersaysyoucantellafairytaleaboutanythingyoulookatortouch."

"thatisallverywell,butsuchtalesorstoriesareworthnothing!no,therightonescomebythemselvesandknockatmyforeheadsaying:'hereiam.'"

"willnotoneknocksoon?"askedtheboy;andthemothersmiledwhilesheputelder-treeblossomsintotheteapotandpouredboilingwateroverthem."pray,tellmeastory."

"yes,ifstoriescamebythemselves;theyaresoproud,theyonlycomewhentheyplease.-butwait,"hesaidsuddenly,"thereisone.lookattheteapot;thereisastoryinitnow."

andthelittleboylookedattheteapot;thelidroseupgradually,theelder-treeblossomssprangforthonebyone,freshandwhite;longboughscameforth;evenoutofthespouttheygrewupinalldirections,andformedabush-nay,alargeeldertree,whichstretcheditsbranchesuptothebedandpushedthecurtainsaside;andthereweresomanyblossomsandsuchasweetfragrance!inthemidstofthetreesatakindly-lookingoldwomanwithastrangedress;itwasasgreenastheleaves,andtrimmedwithlargewhiteblossoms,sothatitwasdifficulttosaywhetheritwasrealcloth,ortheleavesandblossomsoftheelder-tree.

"whatisthiswoman'sname?"askedthelittleboy.

"well,theromansandgreeksusedtocallheradryad,"saidtheoldman;"butwedonotunderstandthat.outinthesailors'quartertheygiveherabettername;theresheiscalledelder-tree,youmustattentivelylistentoherandlookatthebeautifulelder-tree.

"justsuchalargetree,coveredwithflowers,standsoutthere;itgrewinthecornerofanhumblelittleyard;underthistreesattwooldpeopleoneafternooninthebeautifulsunshine.hewasanold,oldsailor,andshehisoldwife;theyhadalreadygreat-grandchildren,andweresoontocelebratetheirgoldenwedding,buttheycouldnotrememberthedate,andtheelder-treemotherwassittinginthetreeandlookedaspleasedasthisonehere.'iknowverywellwhenthegoldenweddingistotakeplace,'shesaid;buttheydidnothearit-theyweretalkingofbygonedays.

"'well,doyouremember?