Christmas gold, p.900
Christmas Gold, page 900
2 Peter Schlemihl, the shadowless man.
3 It is the custom in Denmark for intimate acquaintances to use the second person singular, "Du," (thou) when speaking to each other. When a friendship is formed between men, they generally affirm it, when occasion offers, either in public or private, by drinking to each other and exclaiming, "thy health," at the same time striking their glasses together.—This is called drinking "Duus:"—they are then, "Duus Brodre," (thou brothers,) and ever afterwards use the pronoun "thou," to each other, it being regarded as more familiar than "De," (you). Father and mother, sister and brother, say thou to one another—without regard to age or rank. Master and mistress say thou to their servants—the superior to the inferior. But servants and inferiors do not use the same term to their masters, or superiors—nor is it ever used when speaking to a stranger, or any one with whom they are but slightly acquainted—they then say as in English—you.
4 It is the custom in Denmark, and one deserving the severest censure, that, on those nights in which the moon shines; or, according to almanac authority, ought to shine, the street lamps are not lighted; so that, as it too frequently happens, when the moon is overclouded, or on rainy evenings when she is totally obscured, the streets are for the most part in perfect darkness. This petty economy is called "the magistrates' light," they having the direction of the lighting, paving, and cleansing of towns.
The same management may be met with in some other countries besides Denmark.
5 Bornholm, a Danish island in the Baltic is famous for its manufactures of clocks, potteries, and cement; it contains also considerable coal mines, though not worked to any extent. It is fertile in minerals, chalks, potters' clay of the finest quality, and other valuable natural productions; but, on account of the jealous nature of the inhabitants, which deters foreigners from settling there, these productions are not made so available or profitable as they otherwise might be.
6 Kjöge a town in the bay of Kjöge "To see the Kjöge hens," is an expression similar to "showing a child London," which is said to be done by taking his head in both hands, and so lifting him off the ground. At the invasion of the English in 1807, an encounter of a no very glorious nature took place between the British troops and the undisciplined Danish militia.
7 Prästöe, a still smaller town than Kjöge. Some hundred paces from it lies the manor-house Ny Söe, where Thorwaldsen generally sojourned during his stay in Denmark, and where he called many of his immortal works into existence.
8 Bordingborg, in the reign of King Waldemar a considerable place, now an unimportant little town. One solitary tower only, and some remains of a wall, show where the castle once stood.
9 Cörsör, on the Great Belt, called, formerly, before the introduction of steam-vessels, when travellers were often obliged to wait a long time for a favorable wind, "the most tiresome of towns." The poet Baggesen was born here.
10 Roeskilde, once the capital of Denmark. The town takes its name from King Hroar, and the many fountains in the neighborhood. In the beautiful cathedral the greater number of the kings and queens of Denmark are interred. In Roeskilde, too, the members of the Danish Diet assemble.
11 Soröe, a very quiet little town, beautifully situated, surrounded by woods and lakes. Holberg, Denmark's Molière, founded here an academy for the sons of the nobles. The poets Hauch and Ingemann were appointed professors here. The latter lives there still.
12 In Danish the sun is of the feminine gender, and not, as with us, when personified, spoken of as "he." We beg to make this observation, lest the roses' wish "to kiss the sun," be thought unmaidenly. We are anxious, also, to remove a stumbling block, which might perchance trip up exquisitely-refined modern notions, sadly shocked, no doubt, as they would be, at such an apparent breach of modesty and decorum.—(Note of the Translator.)
A Winter Nosegay, Being Tales for Children at Christmastide
(Walter Crane)
Table of Contents
The Man in the Moon
Cat and Dog Stories
A Fortune in an Empty Wallet
The Man in the Moon
Table of Contents
Once upon a time, long before people were able to learn what they wanted to know from printed books, long before children had pretty pictures to tell them tales, there lived an old student with his pupil. Together they spent all the day in poring over musty old books and papers, trying to find out why the sun was hot; and in the night-time they might always be seen gazing at the sky, counting how many stars there were there. They were very curious folk, and wanted to know the reasons for all sorts of out-of-the-way things that everybody else was content to know the mere facts of, such as why birds have two wings and not three, why crocodiles have no fins, seeing that they can swim in the water, and many other matters that would not interest sensible beings. They always had at their side a young owl, and a serpent, toothless and blind with age; for they thought that youthful observation and aged craftiness were most suitable companions for them in their labours. If at any time old Fusticus, for so the old student was named, got dispirited in his work, or felt inclined to give it up as a hopeless task, he had but to turn round in his chair, and there behind him sat his owl, who seemed to say, as he cocked his head on one side, "Never despair, success only comes after long perseverance!" Or if he stuck fast at any point, and could make no progress, one glance at the old serpent made him think, "Snakes wait whole days and nights on watch for their prey; why should I give in?" And, strange to say, with a little more attention and care, he always did get over his smaller difficulties.
But at last old Fusticus got weary of his long studies, as he seemed never to find an answer to any one of the questions he had set himself; and he was about to give them up altogether, when he came across a curious passage in the old tome in which he was reading. For a long time he could not make it out at all, but after deep thought and consultation with his pupil, he discovered that it was a spell, by which he could call up the Spirit of Darkness, whom he could compel to grant him any three wishes that he might demand. The only condition was that he should give to the Spirit of Darkness whatever he should ask of him.
Old Fusticus thought and thought a long time over this discovery, and at last decided to make use of it. So one day he repeated the charm he had learnt from the book, and when he had finished the last word, to his amazement, for he did not quite believe it was all true, there stood before him the Spirit of Darkness! He was not at all like what he had imagined he would have been; for he had not a hideous face, nor a tail, but was dressed in the costume of a court gentleman, with a sword at his side and a cocked hat in his hand. He had, too, a pigtail, ruffles and all complete!
"Sire," he said to Fusticus, "what is your will? You have summoned me to you by a power not your own—you know the condition on which you use that power. What is your wish?"
"My wish you shall soon learn, or rather my three wishes. But what is it that you demand in return?"
"All that I ask is now—nothing! All that I want is your first-born babe!"
"I have no child—I am an old man without a wife. If I had a child, you should have him." Fusticus did not think what he was saying, you see; but he felt quite safe in offering a thing that did not exist.
"'Tis a bargain!" cried the wicked Spirit at once and with glee. "Here is a written compact! Sign!" and Fusticus with a laugh put his name to the paper, for he thought: "Ah, my fine fellow! you have over-reached yourself this time! In trying to get too much, you have got nothing at all!" and he laughed again.
"Your wishes?" asked the Spirit of Darkness, putting the signed document into his coat-tail pocket.
"Well!" said Fusticus, "first of all I will have—— dear me! what shall I have? Now I come to think of it, I don't know that I want anything at all! Let me see, I have clothes, a house, my owl and my old serpent, I have a pupil, my books, my—oh! I know! I have not got a horse to ride upon! But to wish for only a horse! Spirit, let me have a Cock large enough for me to ride upon!"
And forthwith there appeared a monstrous cock, so large that Fusticus could easily sit upon its back. And this he at once did. "Shan't I look grand now!" thought Fusticus, "as I ride through the village. All eyes will be upon me!" Just at that moment the cock gave a loud crow, and began to strut onwards, and away they went to the village. And as the last sound of the cock's crow died away, the Spirit of Darkness vanished.
The cock made his way straight to the village, and through the chief street. Everybody turned to look at Fusticus and his remarkable mode of travelling, but his friends did not, as he had expected, seem very much struck with its grandeur. "Poor old Fusticus has gone quite mad," they said to each other; "that comes of too much reading!" and they would not return the polite bows that Fusticus showered upon them. And so silly old Fusticus soon came to repent his first wish. "Oh! that I had not been so foolish!" cried Fusticus, and as soon as he got out of the village, he dismounted from his cock, and again called upon the Spirit of Darkness.
"And so you already want something more? You mortals are never contented," said the latter. "Everybody laughs at my steed," answered Fusticus; "I cannot ride through the streets without looking absurd! Give me a golden carriage, drawn by four real horses this time, with as many servants as attend a duke;" and the next moment up drove the most magnificent carriage he had ever beheld, with four prancing white horses, and a footman and two postilions. Behind it rode two lords, to guard it. "Now I shall indeed be happy! Now my friends can no longer laugh!" thought Fusticus, and the very next day he took his first drive.
When his friends saw that Fusticus had come into such luck, and had such a grand carriage of his own, they all thought "Dear me! some rich relation of Fusticus must have died, and left him all this. I hope he did not see me laugh when he passed me yesterday on that curious cock of his!" But Fusticus was too pleased to be unfriendly with anybody, when he saw what marked attention his grand equipage brought him. He sat smiling inside his carriage and had a kind word for all, even for the poor old woman he saw the rough villagers jeering at and abusing. He even called to them to stop breaking the pitchers and pots that she was trying to sell in the market-place, the only grudge that they had against her being that she had a rather more hooked nose than their own!
Fusticus now lived for some time quite happy. Everybody thought a great deal of him, because of his fine carriage, in which he used to take daily drives. All the young unmarried ladies of the village tormented him that he was still a bachelor, saying that his carriage must have been made for two, as there were two seats in it. And this seemed such a forcible argument to Fusticus, that he soon took one of the ladies as a wife. In course of time a little baby was born to them. Scarcely was the child a week old, when one morning, just as Fusticus was nursing his little pet, in through the window sprang the Spirit of Darkness! Drawing the written compact from his pocket, he said, "In accordance with this, give me up your child, your first-born! But you have one wish still left. What may it be?" Fusticus was struck dumb; he could not recover himself for a long time, for in his happiness he had quite forgotten his promise, quite forgotten his third wish, and all about the Spirit of Darkness!
"I cannot yield my child, my young and innocent darling!" he cried. "Anything else you may take—my life, my carriage, anything, but leave me my child!"
"The child! the child! and nothing else!" shrieked the demon, and then, regaining himself, with a smile added: "And your last wish?"
"If I lose my boy," answered Fusticus, "my joy on this earth is for ever gone. If you take my child, then, oh Spirit of Darkness and Deceit! then, may I for all eternity pass my life in the Moon!" "Granted too is your third——" "But I have not finished yet," broke in Fusticus, "and may my child for ever remain with me there!"
And there you may see them both to this day, but the child was changed into a spider. And every now and then the good little spider lets himself down by his thread to the earth and takes his father back all the news of the day.
But if you, Reader, had three wishes granted to you, I hope you would choose them better and more wisely than did old Fusticus!
Cat and Dog Stories
Table of Contents
TIM.
It was a rainy November afternoon, and floods of water poured down from the skies, growing hourly in strength. "Just as if the heaven were weeping to find that its tears grew so plentiful," I thought. I know that it is sometimes the case with me. When I am naughty and am scolded, I begin to cry just a little; but my tears flow quicker and quicker as I think how shameful it is for a great girl like me to be weeping, and the more ashamed I become, the more I cry. But I must not go on like this, or my story will turn out a tearful one, and I shall really end by weeping myself.
Well, it was a rainy day, raining so hard that I could not go out on the lawn to play; and I was tired of amusing myself with my soft ball indoors. I was sitting with my head resting between my hands, trying to think of some new game, when suddenly the door swung open, and in walked a crooked old woman, trudging towards me on her crooked staff.
"Why are you so unhappy, my dear?" she asked me in a kind, though croaking, voice.
"I don't know how to pass the time, ma'am," I said, rather frightened.
"Little girls, aye, and big girls too, should always have something to do; they should never idle away their hours. I am your fairy godmother, Nelly; look at my face."
And I looked up at her. Sure enough, she did look like my godmother, only a little more ugly and a good deal more kind!
"As you have been a good girl this morning, and finished your knitting and sewing, I am going to give you something that will amuse you. I am going to gift you with the knowledge of animal language. Look at your cat and dog on the hearth! They are telling each other stories. Would you like to listen to what they are saying?"
"Oh, that I should!" I exclaimed.
She touched me on the lips with her crooked staff, and suddenly I heard two little voices gossiping round the fire. I glanced round at my fairy godmother, but she had vanished. I had not time to think how wonderful it all was—I was too much taken up with what I heard. There sat my precious Miss Perkie, with King Charlie at her side, so interested that his little pink tongue had pushed its way out through his teeth.
KING CHARLIE.
I drew my chair nearer to the hearth, so that I might hear their conversation the better. But Charlie turned round upon me rather angrily, and said:
"If you want to listen, Nelly, don't make such a noise with your stool. It disturbs me, and it is really provoking to lose the thread of an adventure in that way. Pray begin the story again, Perkie."
He always was rather a sharp-tempered dog, so I did not answer him. Yet the rude way in which he addressed me struck me as rather funny. I remember thinking that, perhaps, if all the world spoke dog-language, dogs would be the masters, and we human beings the slaves.
Perkie then continued:
"As I was saying——"
"No, she has put the first part out of my head, now! If I am once stopped in a story all the first part vanishes. I never was very quick at learning and all that, you know. People think that petting and cuddling are quite enough for a dog of my royal pedigree! They never consider my mind. It is true I can beg, and play at hide-and-seek with a biscuit: I can eat game, and drink real turtle-soup. And they pay great respect to my dignity and kingly grace; but as for my mental—however, never mind that, Pussy; it's not to the point! Go on with your story from the beginning, and Nelly and I will listen."
"I was going to tell Charlie of an adventure that I once had with some horrid, mongrel dogs," said Pussy. "I hate dogs, and so does my whole race, and mongrels more than any others. Now a noble mastiff or a royal King Charles" (and here Miss Perkie bowed graciously to her companion, though I fancied I could see a faint little smile curl round her lower jaw as she glanced up at me, as if to say to me that she only put up with him for my sake), "neither of them would worry a harmless cat, for they are real gentlemen, who honour weakness and timidity" (another little nod). "But to go on with my story—
'I was out in the yard one day to see if I could not pick up a stray mouseling or so, when I suddenly came upon three brutal-looking dogs, asleep and snoring near a basket.
"I turned to flee, as quickly as I could; but the middle dog must have heard the little cry of fright that escaped me. He leaped up, gave a loud bark that awoke his two friends, and all three set after me.
"A tall wall surrounded the yard, and foolishly I had not made for the gate through which I had come in. What was I to do? 'They will have me,' I thought, 'they must have me sooner or later!' My terror was too great for me to describe.
THE THREE MONGREL CURS.
"Round and round the yard they chased me—round and round again! I could not see the opening of the gate for a long time, so quickly did I tear along.
"Mongrel curs are clever, though I don't know why they should be. They had sense enough—bad sense I then thought it; but now I laugh at the adventure, as it is happily over, and as I paid the dogs back in their own coin—well, they had sense enough to separate and drive me into a corner. 'Now, surely, it is all over with me!' I said to myself; but I managed to keep them off for a long while by setting up my back and spitting at them. They dared not draw nigh, they dared not touch me, for they knew my claws were all ready stretched out to scratch their eyes out.
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