"thisisthestoryofwaldemardaaandhisdaughters.tellitbetter,anyofyou,ifyouknowhow,"saidthewind;andherushedaway,andwasgone.

theend.

1872

fairytalesofhanschristianandersen

thestoryoftheyear

byhanschristianandersen

itwasneartheendofjanuary,andaterriblefallofsnowwaspeltingdown,andwhirlingthroughthestreetsandlanes;thewindowswereplasteredwithsnowontheoutside,snowfellinmassesfromtheroofs.everyoneseemedinagreathurry;theyran,theyflew,fellintoeachother'sarms,holdingfastforamomentaslongastheycouldstandsafely.coachesandhorseslookedasiftheyhadbeenfrostedwithsugar.thefootmenstoodwiththeirbacksagainstthecarriages,soastoturntheirfacesfromthewind.thefootpassengerskeptwithintheshelterofthecarriages,whichcouldonlymoveslowlyoninthedeepsnow.atlastthestormabated,andanarrowpathwassweptcleaninfrontofthehouses;whentwopersonsmetinthispaththeystoodstill,forneitherlikedtotakethefirststepononesideintothedeepsnowtolettheotherpasshim.theretheystoodsilentandmotionless,tillatlast,asifbytacitconsent,theyeachsacrificedalegandburieditinthedeeprdsevening,theweatherbecamecalm.thesky,clearedfromthesnow,lookedmoreloftyandtransparent,whilethestarsshonewithnewbrightnessandpurity.thefrozensnowcrackledunderfoot,andwasquitefirmenoughtobearthesparrows,whohoppeduponitinthemorningdawn.theysearchedforfoodinthepathwhichhadbeenswept,buttherewasverylittleforthem,andtheywereterriblycold."tweet,tweet,"saidonetoanother;theycallthisanewyear,butithinkitisworsethanthelast.wemightjustaswellhavekepttheoldyear;i'mquiteunhappy,andihavearighttobeso."

"yes,youhave;andyetthepeopleranaboutandfiredoffguns,tousherinthenewyear,"saidalittleshiveringsparrow."theythrewthingsagainstthedoors,andwerequitebesidethemselveswithjoy,becausetheoldyearhaddisappeared.iwasgladtoo,foriexpectedweshouldhavesomewarmdays,butmyhopeshavecometonothing.itfreezesharderthanever;ithinkmankindhavemadeamistakeinreckoningtime."

"thattheyhave,"saidathird,anoldsparrowwithawhitepoll;"theyhavesomethingtheycallacalendar;it'saninventionoftheirown,andeverythingmustbearrangedaccordingtoit,butitwon'tdo.whenspringcomes,thentheyearbegins.itisthevoiceofnature,andireckonbythat."

"butwhenwillspringcome?"askedtheothers.

"itwillcomewhenthestorkreturns,butheisveryuncertain,andhereinthetownnooneknowsanythingaboutit.inthecountrytheyhavemoreknowledge;shallweflyawaythereandwait?weshallbenearertospringthen,certainly."

"thatmaybeallverywell,"saidanothersparrow,whohadbeenhoppingaboutforalongtime,chirping,butnotsayinganythingofconsequence,"butihavefoundafewcomfortshereintownwhich,i'mafraid,ishouldmissoutinthecountry.hereinthisneighborhood,therelivesafamilyofpeoplewhohavebeensosensibleastoplacethreeorfourflower-potsagainstthewallinthecourt-yard,sothattheopeningsareallturnedinward,andthebottomofeachpointsoutward.inthelatteraholehasbeencutlargeenoughformetoflyinandout.iandmyhusbandhavebuiltanestinoneofthesepots,andallouryoungones,whohavenowflownaway,werebroughtupthere.thepeoplewholivethereofcoursemadethewholearrangementthattheymighthavethepleasureofseeingus,ortheywouldnothavedoneit.itpleasedthemalsotostrewbread-crumbsforus,andsowehavefood,andmayconsiderourselvesprovidedfor.soithinkmyhusbandandiwillstaywhereweare;althoughwearenotveryhappy,butweshallstay."

"andwewillflyintothecountry,"saidtheothers,"toseeifspringiscoming."andawaytheyflew.

inthecountryitwasreallywinter,afewdegreescolderthaninthetown.thesharpwindsblewoverthesnow-coveredfields.thefarmer,wrappedinwarmclothing,satinhissleigh,andbeathisarmsacrosshischesttokeepoffthecold.thewhiplayonhislap.thehorsesrantilltheysmoked.thesnowcrackled,thesparrowshoppedaboutinthewheel-ruts,andshivered,crying,"tweet,tweet;whenwillspringcome?