"Now I call that very instructive," murmured the great-grandfather"s portrait. "It is useful sometimes to express an opinion." So he was quite satisfied.
These are some of the doings and sayings of Ole-Luk-Oie. I hope he may visit you himself this evening and relate some more.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
THE MONEY BOX
IN a nursery where a number of toys lay scattered about, a money box stood on the top of a very high wardrobe. It was made of clay in the shape of a pig and had been bought of the potter. In the back of the pig was a slit, and this slit had been enlarged with a knife so that dollars, or even crown pieces, might slip through--and indeed there were two in the box, besides a number of pence. The money-pig was stuffed so full that it could no longer rattle, which is the highest state of perfectness to which a money-pig can attain.
There he stood upon the cupboard, high and lofty, looking down upon everything else in the room. He knew very well that he had enough inside himself to buy up all the other toys, and this gave him a very good opinion of his own value.
The rest thought of this fact also, although they did not express it, there were so many other things to talk about. A large doll, still handsome (though rather old, for her neck had been mended) lay inside one of the drawers, which was partly open. She called out to the others, "Let us have a game at being men and women; that is something worth playing at."
Upon this there was a great uproar; even the engravings which hung in frames on the wall turned round in their excitement and showed that they had a wrong side to them, although they had not the least intention of exposing themselves in this way or of objecting to the game.
It was late at night, but as the moon shone through the windows, they had light at a cheap rate. And as the game was now to begin, all were invited to take part in it, even the children"s wagon, which certainly belonged among the coa.r.s.er playthings. "Each has its own value," said the wagon; "we cannot all be n.o.blemen; there must be some to do the work."
The money-pig was the only one who received a written invitation. He stood so high that they were afraid he would not accept a verbal message. But in his reply he said if he had to take a part he must enjoy the sport from his own home; they were to arrange for him to do so. And so they did.
The little toy theater was therefore put up in such a way that the money-pig could look directly into it. Some wanted to begin with a comedy and afterwards to have a tea party and a discussion for mental improvement, but they began with the latter first.
The rocking-horse spoke of training and races; the wagon, of railways and steam power--for these subjects belonged to each of their professions, and it was right they should talk of them. The clock talked politics--"Tick, tick." He professed to know what was the time of the day, but there was a whisper that he did not go correctly. The bamboo cane stood by, looking stiff and proud (he was vain of his bra.s.s ferrule and silver top), and on the sofa lay two worked cushions, pretty but stupid.
When the play at the little theater began, the rest sat and looked on; they were requested to applaud and stamp, or crack, whenever they felt gratified with what they saw. The riding whip said he never cracked for old people, only for the young--those who were not yet married. "I crack for everybody," said the nutcracker.
"Yes, and a fine noise you make," thought the audience as the play went on.
It was not worth much, but it was very well played, and all the actors turned their painted sides to the audience, for they were made to be seen only on one side. The acting was wonderful, excepting that sometimes the actors came out beyond the lamps, because the wires were a little too long.
The doll whose neck had been mended was so excited that the place in her neck burst, and the money-pig declared he must do something for one of the players as they had all pleased him so much. So he made up his mind to mention one of them in his will as the one to be buried with him in the family vault, whenever that event should happen.
They enjoyed the comedy so much that they gave up all thoughts of the tea party and only carried out their idea of intellectual amus.e.m.e.nt, which they called playing at men and women. And there was nothing wrong about it, for it was only play. All the while each one thought most of himself or of what the money-pig could be thinking. The money-pig"s thoughts were on (as he supposed) a very far-distant time--of making his will, and of his burial, and of when it might all come to pa.s.s.
Certainly sooner than he expected; for all at once down he came from the top of the press, fell on the floor, and was broken to pieces. Then all the pennies hopped and danced about in the most amusing manner. The little ones twirled round like tops, and the large ones rolled away as far as they could, especially the one great silver crown piece, who had often wanted to go out into the world. And he had his wish as well as all the rest of the money. The pieces of the money-pig were thrown into the dustbin, and the next day there stood a new money-pig on the cupboard, but it had not a farthing inside it yet, and therefore, like the old one, could not rattle.
This was the beginning with him, and with us it shall be the end of our story.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
ELDER-TREE MOTHER
THERE was once a little boy who had taken cold by going out and getting his feet wet. No one could think how he had managed to do so, for the weather was quite dry. His mother undressed him and put him to bed, and then she brought in the teapot to make him a good cup of elder tea, which is so warming.
At the same time the friendly old man who lived all alone at the top of the house came in at the door. He had neither wife nor child, but he was very fond of children and knew so many fairy tales and stories that it was a pleasure to hear him talk. "Now, if you drink your tea," said the mother, "very likely you will have a story in the meantime."
[Ill.u.s.tration: "But how did the little fellow get his feet wet?" asked he....]
"Yes, if I could think of a new one to tell," said the old man. "But how did the little fellow get his feet wet?" asked he.
"Ah," said the mother, "that is what we cannot make out."
"Will you tell me a story?" asked the boy.
"Yes, if you can tell me exactly how deep the gutter is in the little street through which you go to school."
"Just halfway up to my knee," said the boy, promptly; "that is, if I stand in the deepest part."
"It is easy to see how we got our feet wet," said the old man. "Well, now I suppose I ought to tell a story, but really I don"t know any more."
"You can make up one, I know," said the boy. "Mother says that you can turn everything you look at into a story, and everything, even, that you touch."
"Ah, but those tales and stories are worth nothing. The real ones come of themselves; they knock at my forehead and say, "Here we are!""
"Won"t there be a knock soon?" asked the boy. And his mother laughed as she put elder flowers in the teapot and poured boiling water over them.
"Oh, do tell me a story."
"Yes, if a story comes of itself, but tales and stories are very grand; they only come when it pleases them. Stop," he cried all at once, "here we have it; look! there is a story in the teapot now."
The little boy looked at the teapot and saw the lid raise itself gradually and long branches stretch out, even from the spout, in all directions till they became larger and larger, and there appeared a great elder tree covered with flowers white and fresh. It spread itself even to the bed and pushed the curtains aside, and oh, how fragrant the blossoms were!
In the midst of the tree sat a pleasant-looking old woman in a very strange dress. The dress was green, like the leaves of the elder tree, and was decorated with large white elder blossoms. It was not easy to tell whether the border was made of some kind of stuff or of real flowers.
"What is that woman"s name?" asked the boy.
"The Romans and Greeks called her a dryad," said the old man, "but we do not understand that name; we have a better one for her in the quarter of the town where the sailors live. They call her Elder-flower Mother, and you must pay attention to her now, and listen while you look at the beautiful tree.
"Just such a large, blooming tree as this stands outside in the corner of a poor little yard, and under this tree, one bright sunny afternoon, sat two old people, a sailor and his wife. They had great-grandchildren, and would soon celebrate the golden wedding, which is the fiftieth anniversary of the wedding day in many countries, and the Elder Mother sat in the tree and looked as pleased as she does now.
""I know when the golden wedding is to be," said she, but they did not hear her; they were talking of olden times. "Do you remember," said the old sailor, "when we were quite little and used to run about and play in the very same yard where we are now sitting, and how we planted little twigs in one corner and made a garden?"
""Yes," said the old woman, "I remember it quite well; and how we watered the twigs, and one of them was a sprig of elder that took root and put forth green shoots, until in time it became the great tree under which we old people are now seated."
""To be sure," he replied, "and in that corner yonder stands the water b.u.t.t in which I used to swim my boat that I had cut out all myself; and it sailed well too. But since then I have learned a very different kind of sailing."
""Yes, but before that we went to school," said she, "and then we were prepared for confirmation. How we both cried on that day! But in the afternoon we went hand in hand up to the round tower and saw the view over Copenhagen and across the water; then we went to Fredericksburg, where the king and queen were sailing in their beautiful boat on the ca.n.a.ls."