Chapters 5
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1 01 - The Emperor's New Clothes 11:28
The Emperor's New Clothes by Hans Christian Andersen Many, many years ago lived an emperor Who thought so much of new clothes that he spent all his money in order to obtain them? His only ambition was to be always well-dressed. He did not care for his soldiers, and the theater did not amuse him. The only thing, in fact, he thought anything of was to drive out and show a new suit of clothes. He had a coat for every hour of the day, And as one would say of a king, he is in his cabinet, so one would say of him, the emperor is in his dressing-room. The great city where he resided was very gay. Every day many strangers from all parts of the globe arrived. One day two swindlers came to the city. They made people believe that they were weavers, and declared they could manufacture the finest cloth to be imagined.
The colors and patterns, they said, were not only exceptionally beautiful, but the clothes made of their material possessed the wonderful quality of being invisible to any man who was unfit for his office or unpardonably stupid. That must be wonderful cloth, thought the Emperor. If I were to be dressed in a suit made of this cloth, I should be able to find out which men in my empire were unfit for their places, and I could distinguish the clever from the stupid. I must have this cloth woven for me without delay. And he gave a large sum of money to the swindlers in advance, that they should set to work without any loss of time. They set up two looms and pretended to be very hard at work. But they did nothing whatever on the looms.
They asked for the finest silk and the most precious gold cloth. All they got they did away with, and worked at the empty looms till late at night. I should very much like to know how they are getting on with the cloth, thought the Emperor. But he felt rather uneasy when he remembered that he, who was not fit for his office, could not see it. Personally. He was of the opinion that he had nothing to fear, yet he thought it advisable to send someone else first to see how matters stood. Everybody in the town knew what a remarkable quality the stuff possessed, and all were anxious to see how bad or stupid their neighbors were. "'I shall send my honest old minister to the weavers,' thought the emperor.
"'He can judge best how the stuff looks.' For he is intelligent, and nobody understands his office better than he. The good old minister went into the room where the swindlers sat before the empty looms. Heavens preserve us, he thought, and opened his eyes wide. I cannot see anything at all. But he did not say so. Both swindlers requested him to come near, and asked him if he did not admire the exquisite pattern and the beautiful colors pointing to the empty looms. The poor old minister tried his very best, but he could see nothing, for there was nothing to be seen. "'Oh, dear,' he thought, "'can I be so stupid? I should never have thought so, and nobody must know it. Is it?' Is it possible that I am not fit for my office?
No, no, I cannot say that I was unable to see the cloth." "'Now have you got nothing to say?' said one of the swindlers, while he pretended to be busily weaving. "'Oh, it is very pretty, exceedingly beautiful,' replied the old minister, looking through his glasses. "'What a beautiful pattern! What brilliant colors!' I shall tell the Emperor that I like the cloth very much. We are pleased to hear that," said the two weavers, and described to him the colors, and explained the curious pattern. The old minister listened attentively that he might relate to the Emperor what they said, and so he did. Now the swindlers asked for more money, silk and gold cloth which they required for weaving. They kept everything for themselves, and not a thread came near the loom, but they continued, as hitherto, to work at the empty looms.
Soon afterwards the Emperor sent another honest courtier to the weavers to see how they were getting on, and if the cloth was nearly finished. Like the old minister, he looked and looked, but could see nothing, as there was nothing to be seen. Is it not a beautiful piece of cloth? asked the two swindlers, showing and explaining the magnificent pattern, which, however, did not exist. I am not stupid, said the man. It is therefore my good appointment, for which I am not fit. It is very strange, but I must not let any one know it. And he praised the cloth, which he did not see. And expressed his joy at the beautiful colors and the fine pattern. It is very excellent, he said to the Emperor. Everybody in the whole town talked about the precious cloth.
At last the Emperor wished to see it himself while it was still on the loom. With a number of courtiers, including the two who had already been there, he went to the two clever swindlers, Who now worked as hard as they could, but without using any thread. Is it not magnificent? said the two old statesmen who had been there before. Your Majesty must admire the colors and the pattern. And then they pointed to the empty looms, for they imagined the others could see the cloth. What is this? thought the Emperor. I do not see anything at all. That is terrible. Am I stupid? "'Am I unfit to be emperor? That would indeed be the most dreadful thing that could happen to me. Really,' he said, turning to the weavers, "'your cloth has our most gracious approval.' And, nodding contentedly, he looked at the empty loom, for he did not like to say that he saw nothing.
All his attendants who were with him looked and looked, and although they could not see anything more than the others, They said, like the Emperor, it is very beautiful, and all advised him to wear the new magnificent clothes at a great procession which was soon to take place. It is magnificent, beautiful, excellent, one heard them say. Everybody seemed to be delighted, and the Emperor appointed the two swindlers imperial court weavers. The whole night previous to the day on which the procession was to take place, the swindlers pretended to work, and burned more than sixteen candles. People should see that they were busy to finish the emperor's new suit. They pretended to take the cloth from the loom, and worked about in the air with big scissors, and sewed with needles without thread, and said at last, The Emperor's new suit is ready now.
The Emperor and all his barons then came to the hall. The swindlers held their arms up, as if they held something in their hands, and said, These are the trousers, this is the coat, and here is the cloak, and so on. They are all as light as a cobweb, And one must feel as if one had nothing at all upon the body, but that is just the beauty of them. Indeed, said all the courtiers, but they could not see anything, for there was nothing to be seen. Does it please Your Majesty now to graciously undress, said the swindlers, that we may assist Your Majesty in putting on the new suit before the large looking-glass? The Emperor undressed. And the swindlers pretended to put the new suit upon him, one piece after another, and the emperor looked at himself in the glass from every side.
How well they look! How well they fit! said all. What a beautiful pattern! What fine colors! That is a magnificent suit of clothes! The master of the ceremonies announced that the bearers of the canopy, which was to be carried in the procession, We're ready. I am ready, said the Emperor. Does not my suit fit me marvelously? Then he turned once more to the looking-glass, that people should think he admired his garments.
The Chamberlains, who were to carry the train, stretched their hands to the ground as if they lifted up a train, and pretended to hold something in their hands. They did not like people to know. That they could not see anything. The Emperor marched in the procession under the beautiful canopy, and all who saw him in the street and out of the windows exclaimed, Indeed, the Emperor's new suit is incomparable! What a long train he has! How well it fits him! Nobody wished to let others know he saw nothing. For then— He would have been unfit for his office or too stupid. Never Emperor's clothes were more admired. But he has nothing on at all, said a little child at last. Good heavens, listen to the voice of an innocent child, said the father, and one whispered to the other what the child had said.
But he has nothing on at all, cried at last the whole people. That. made a deep impression upon the Emperor, for it seemed to him that they were right, but he thought to himself, now I must bear up to the end. And the Chamberlains walked with still greater dignity, as if they carried the train which did not exist.
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2 02 - The Ugly Duckling 24:46
THE UGLY DUCKLING It was lovely summer weather in the country, and the golden corn, the green oaks, and the haystacks piled up in the meadows looked beautiful. The Stark, walking about on his long red legs, chattered in the Egyptian language, which he had learned from his mother. The cornfields and meadows were surrounded by large forests, in the midst of which were deep pools. It was indeed delightful to walk about in the country. In a sunny spot stood a pleasant old farmhouse close by a deep river, and from the house down to the waterside grew great burdock leaves, so high that under the tallest of them a little child could stand upright. The spot was as wild as the center of a thick wood. In this snug retreat sat a duck on her nest, watching for her young brood to hatch.
She was beginning to get tired of her task, for the little ones were a long time coming out of their shells, and she seldom had any visitors. The other ducks liked much better to swim about in the river than to climb the slippery banks and sit under a burdock-leaf, To have a gossip with her. At length one shell cracked, and then another, and from each egg came a living creature that lifted its head and cried, Peep! peep! Quack! quack! said the mother, and then they all quacked as well as they could, and looked about them on every side of the large green leaves. Their mother allowed them to look as much as they liked, because green is good for the eyes. How large the world is," said the young ducks, when they found how much more room they now had than while they were inside the egg-shell.
Do you imagine that this is the whole world?" asked the mother. Wait till you have seen the garden. It stretches far beyond that to the parson's field, but I have never ventured to such a distance. Are you all out?" she continued, rising. No, I declare. The largest egg lies there still. I wonder how long this is to last. I am quite tired of it." And she seated herself again on the nest. "'Well, how are you getting on?' asked an old duck, who paid her a visit. "'One egg is not hatched yet,' said the duck. "'It will not break. But just look at all the others. Are they not the prettiest little ducklings you ever saw?' They are the image of their father, who is so unkind he never comes to see. Let me see the egg that will not break," said the duck.
I have no doubt it is a turkey's egg. I was persuaded to hatch some once, and after all my care and trouble with the young ones they were afraid of the water. I quacked and clucked, but all to no purpose. I could not get them to venture in. Let me look at the egg. Yes, that is a turkey's egg. Take my advice. Leave it where it is, and teach the other children to swim. I think I will sit on it a little while longer," said the duck. As I have sat so long already, a few days will be nothing. Please yourself," said the old duck, and she went away. At last the large egg broke. And a young one crept forth, crying, Peep! Peep! It was very large and ugly. The duck stared at it and exclaimed, It is very large and not at all like the others.
I wonder if it really is a turkey. We shall soon find it out, however, when we go to the water. It must go in if I have to push it myself. On the next day the weather was delightful, and the sun shone brightly on the green burdock leaves. So the mother duck took her young brood down to the water and jumped in with a splash. Quack, quack, cried she, and one after another the little ducklings jumped in. The water closed over their heads. But they came up again in an instant, and swam about quite prettily, with their legs paddling under them as easily as possible. And the ugly duckling was also in the water, swimming with them. "'Oh,' said the mother, "'that is not a turkey. How well he uses his legs!
How upright he holds himself! He is my own child, and he is not so very ugly after all, if you look at him properly.' Quack, quack, come with me now. I will take you into grand society, and introduce you to the farm-yard. But you must keep close to me, or you may be trodden upon. And above all, beware of the cat." When they reached the farm-yard there was a great disturbance. Two families were fighting for an eel's head, which, after all, was carried off by the cat. See, children, that is the cat. "'It is the way of the world,' said the mother duck, wetting her beak, for she would have liked the eel's head herself. "'Come now, use your legs, and let me see how well you can behave. You must bow your heads prettily to that old duck yonder.
She is the highest-born of them all, and has Spanish blood, therefore she is well off. Don't you see she has a red flag tied to her leg? Which is something very grand.' and a great honor for a duck. It shows that every one is anxious not to lose her, as she can be recognized both by man and beast. Come now, don't turn your toes. A well-bred duckling spreads his feet wide apart, just like his father and mother. In this way now, bend your neck and say, Quack. The ducklings did as they were bid, but the other duck stared and said, Look! Here comes another brood, as if there were not enough of us already. And what a queer-looking object one of them is! We don't want him here. And then one flew out and bit him in the neck.
Leave him alone," said the mother. He is not doing any harm. Yes, but he is so big and ugly," said the spiteful duck. Therefore he must be turned out. The others are very pretty children," said the old duck, with the rag on her leg. All but that one! I wish his mother could improve him a little. That is impossible, Your Grace," replied the mother. He is not pretty, but he has a very good disposition, and swims as well, or even better than the others. I think he will grow up pretty, and perhaps be smaller. He has remained too long in the egg, and therefore his figure is not properly formed. And then she stroked his neck and smoothed his feathers, saying, It is a drake, and therefore not of so much consequence.
I think he will grow up strong and be able to take care of himself. The other ducklings are graceful enough," said the old duck. Now make yourself at home, and if you can find an eelshead you can bring it to me. And so they made themselves comfortable. But the poor duckling, who had crept out of his shell last of all and looked so ugly, was bitten and pushed and made fun of, not only by the ducks, but by all the poultry. "'He is too big,' they all said. And the turkey-cock, who had been born into the world with spurs and fancied himself really an emperor, puffed himself out like a vessel in full sail, and flew at the duckling, and became quite red in the head with passion, so that the poor little thing did not know where to go, and was quite miserable because he was so ugly and laughed at by the whole form-yard.
So it went on from day to day till it got worse and worse. The poor duckling was driven about by every one. Even his brothers and sisters were unkind to him, and would say, "'Ah, you ugly creature! I wish the cat would get you!' And his mother said she wished he had never been born. The ducks pecked him, the chickens beat him, and the girl who fed the poultry kicked him with her feet. So at last he ran away, frightening the little birds in the hedge as he flew over the palings. "'They are afraid of me because I am ugly,' he said. So he closed his eyes and flew still farther. Until he came out on a large moor inhabited by wild ducks. Here he remained the whole night, feeling very tired and sorrowful.
In the morning, when the wild ducks rose in the air, they stared at their new comrade. "'What sort of a duck are you?' they all said, coming round him. He bowed to them, and was as polite as he could be, but he did not reply to their question. "'You are exceedingly ugly,' said the wild ducks. "'But that will not matter if you do not want to marry one of our family.' "'Poor thing! He had no thoughts of marriage. All he wanted was permission to lie among the rushes and drink some of the water on the moor. After he had been on the moor two days there came two wild geese, or rather goslings, for they had not been out of the egg long, and were very saucy. Listen, friend," said one of them to the duckling, you are so ugly that we like you very well.
Will you go with us and become a bird of passage? Not far from here is another moor, in which there are some pretty wild geese, all unmarried. It is a chance for you to get a wife. You may be lucky, ugly as you are. POP! POP! sounded in the air, and the two wild geese fell dead among the rushes, and the water was tinged with blood. Pop! pop! echoed far and wide in the distance, and whole flocks of wild geese rose up from the rushes. The sound continued from every direction, for the sportsmen surrounded the moor, and some were even seated on branches of trees overlooking the rushes. The blue smoke from the guns rose like clouds over the dark trees, and as it floated away across the water, a number of sporting dogs bounded in among the rushes which bent beneath them wherever they went.
How they terrified the poor duckling! He turned away his head to hide it under his wing, and at the same moment a large, terrible dog passed quite near him. His jaws were open, his tongue hung from his mouth, and his eyes glared fearfully. He thrust his nose close to the duckling, showing his sharp teeth, and then, splash, splash, he went into the water without touching him. "'Oh!' sighed the duckling. "'How thankful I am for being so ugly! Even a dog will not bite me!' And so he lay, quite still, While the shot rattled through the rushes and gun after gun was fired over him, it was late in the day before all became quiet, but even then the poor young thing did not dare to move. He waited quietly for several hours, and then, after looking carefully around him, hastened away from the moor as fast as he could.
He ran over field and meadow till a storm arose, and he could hardly struggle against it. Towards evening he reached a poor little cottage that seemed ready to fall, and only remained standing because he could not decide on which side to fall first. The storm continued so violent that the duckling could go no farther. He sat down by the cottage, and then he noticed that the door was not quite closed, in consequence of one of the hinges having given way. There was, therefore, a narrow opening near the bottom, large enough for him to slip through, which he did very quietly, and got a shelter for the night. A woman, a tom-cat, and a hen lived in this cottage. The tom-cat, whom the mistress called My Little Son, was a great favorite.
He could raise his back and purr. and could even throw out sparks from his fur if it were stroked the wrong way. The hen had very short legs, so she was called Chicky Short Legs. She laid good eggs, and her mistress loved her as if she had been her own child. In the morning the strange visitor was discovered, and the tom-cat began to purr and the hen to cluck. "'What is that noise about?' said the old woman, looking round the room. But her sight was not very good, therefore when she saw the duckling she thought, "'It must be a fat duck that has strayed from home.' "'Oh, what a prize!' she exclaimed. "'I hope it is not a drake, for then I shall have some duck's eggs. I must wait and see.' So the duckling was allowed to remain on trial for three weeks, but there were no eggs.
Now the tom-cat was the master of the house, and the hen was mistress, and they always said, "'We and the world,' for they believed themselves to be half the world, and the better half too." The duckling thought that others might hold a different opinion on the subject, but the hen would not listen to such doubts. "'Can you lay eggs?' she asked. "'No. Then have the goodness to hold your tongue.' Can you raise your back or purr or throw out sparks?" said the tom-cat. No. Then you have no right to express an opinion when sensible people are speaking. So the duckling sat in a corner, feeling very low-spirited, till the sunshine and the fresh air came into the room through the open door, and then he began to feel such a great longing for a swim on the water.
that he could not help telling the hen. What an absurd idea," said the hen. You have nothing else to do, therefore you have foolish fancies. If you could purr or lay eggs they would pass away. But it is so delightful to swim about on the water," said the duckling, and so refreshing to feel it close over your head when you dive down to the bottom. Delightful indeed," said the hen. Why, you must be crazy. Ask the cat. He is the cleverest animal I know. Ask him how he would like to swim about on the water, or to dive under it, for I will not speak of my own opinion. Ask our mistress, the old woman. There is no one in the world more clever than she is. Do you think she would like to swim, or to let the water close over her head?
You don't understand me." said the duckling. We don't understand you? Who can understand you, I wonder? Do you consider yourself more clever than the cat or the old woman? I will say nothing of myself. Don't imagine such nonsense, child, and thank your good fortune that you have been received here. Are you not in a warm room, and in society from which you may learn something?" But you are a chatterer, and your company is not very agreeable. Believe me, I speak only for your own good. I may tell you unpleasant truths, but that is proof of my friendship. I advise you, therefore, to lay eggs, and learn to purr as quickly as possible." "'I believe I must go out into the world again,' said the duckling.
"'Yes, do,' said the hen. So the duckling left the cottage and soon found water, on which he could swim and dive, but was avoided by all other animals because of its ugly appearance. Autumn came, and the leaves in the forest turned to orange and gold. Then, as winter approached, the wind caught them as they fell and whirled them in the cold air. The clouds, heavy with hail and snowflakes, hung low in the sky, and the raven stood on the ferns, crying, It made one shiver with cold to look at them. All this was very sad for the poor little duckling. One evening, just as the sun set amid radiant clouds, there came a large flock of beautiful birds out of the bushes. The duckling had never seen any like them before.
They were swans, and they curved their graceful necks. while their soft plumage shone with dazzling whiteness. They uttered a singular cry as they spread their glorious wings, and flew away from those cold regions to warmer countries across the sea. As they mounted higher and higher in the air, the ugly little duckling felt quite a strange sensation as he watched them. He whirled himself in the water like a wheel, stretched out his neck towards them, and uttered a cry so strange that it frightened him. Could he ever forget those beautiful, happy birds? When at last they were out of sight, he dived under the water, and rose again almost beside himself with excitement. He knew not the names of those birds, nor where they had flown.
But he felt towards them as he had never felt for any other bird in the world. He was not envious of these beautiful creatures, but wished to be as lovely as they. Poor ugly creature! How gladly he would have lived even with the ducks had they only given him encouragement. The winter grew colder and colder. He was obliged to swim about on the water to keep it from freezing, but every night. The space on which he swam became smaller and smaller. At length it froze so hard that the ice in the water crackled as he moved, and the duckling had to paddle with his legs as well as he could to keep the space from closing up. He became exhausted at last, and lay still and helpless, frozen fast in the ice.
Early in the morning a peasant, who was passing by, saw what had happened. He broke the ice in pieces with his wooden shoe, and carried the duckling home to his wife. The warmth revived the poor little creature, but when the children wanted to play with him, the duckling thought they would do him some harm, so he started up in terror, fluttered into the milk-pan, and splashed the milk about the room. Then the woman clapped her hands, which frightened him still more. He flew first into the butter-cask, then into the meal-tub and out again. What a condition he was in! The woman screamed and struck at him with the tongs. The children laughed and screamed and tumbled over each other in their efforts to catch him.
But luckily he escaped. The door stood open, and the poor creature could just manage to slip out among the bushes and lie down quite exhausted in the newly fallen snow. It would be very sad, were I to relate all the misery and privations which the poor little duckling endured during the hard winter, but when it had passed he found himself lying one morning in a moor amongst the rushes. He felt the warm sun shining, and heard the lork singing, and saw that all around was beautiful spring. Then the young bird felt that his wings were strong as he flapped them against his sides and rose high into the air. They bore him onward, where he found himself in a large garden, before he well knew how it had happened.
The apple-trees were in full blossom, and the fragrant elders bent their long green branches down to the stream which wound round a smooth lawn. Everything looked beautiful in the freshness of early spring. From a thicket close by came three beautiful white swans, rustling their feathers and swimming lightly over the smooth water. The duckling remembered the lovely birds, and felt more strangely unhappy than ever. "'I will fly to those royal birds,' he exclaimed, "'and they will kill me, because I am so ugly and dare to approach them. But it does not matter.' Better be killed by them than pecked by the ducks, beaten by the hens, pushed about by the maiden who feeds the poultry, or starved with hunger in the winter.
Then he flew to the water and swam toward the beautiful swans. The moment they espied the stranger they rushed to meet him with outstretched wings. "'Kill me,' said the poor bird, and he bent his head down to the surface of the water and awaited death. But what did he see in the clear stream below? His own image no longer a dark gray bird, ugly and disagreeable to look at, but a graceful and beautiful swan. To be born in a duck's nest in a farmyard is of no consequence to a bird, if it is hatched from a swan's egg. He now felt glad at having suffered sorrow and trouble, because it enabled him to enjoy so much better All the pleasure and happiness around him, for the great swans swam round the new-comer, and stroked his neck with their beaks as a welcome.
Into the garden presently came some little children, and threw bread and cake into the water. "'See!' cried the youngest. "'There is a new one!' And the rest were delighted, and ran to their father and mother, dancing and clapping their hands and shouting joyously. There is another swan come. A new one has arrived. Then they threw more bread and cake into the water, and said, The new one is the most beautiful of all. He is so young and pretty. And the old swans bowed their heads before him. Then he felt quite ashamed, and hid his head under his wing. For he did not know what to do. He was so happy and yet not at all proud. He had been persecuted and despised for his ugliness, and now he heard them say he was the most beautiful of all the birds.
Even the elder tree bent down its boughs into the water before him, and the sun shone warm and bright. Then he rustled his feathers, curved his slender neck, and cried joyfully from the depths of his heart, I never dreamed of such happiness as this. While I was an ugly duckling.
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3 03 - Thumbellina 29:03
Thumbelina by Hans Christian Andersen. Little Tiny or Thumbelina There was once a woman who wished very much to have a little child, but she could not obtain her wish. At last she went to a fairy and said, I should so very much like to have a little child. Can you tell me where I can find one? "'Oh, that is very easily managed,' said the fairy. "'Here is a barley-corn of a different kind to those which grow in the farmer's fields, and which the chickens eat. Put it into a flower-pot, and see what will happen.' "'Thank you,' said the woman. And she gave the fairy twelve shillings, which was the price of the barley-corn. Then she went home and planted it. And immediately there grew up a large, handsome flower, something like a tulip in appearance, but with its leaves tightly closed, as if it were still a bud.
"'It is a beautiful flower,' said the woman, and she kissed the red and golden-coloured leaves, and while she did so the flower opened, and she could see that it was a real tulip. Within the flower, upon the green velvet stamens, sat a very delicate and graceful little maiden. She was scarcely half as long as a thumb, and they gave her the name Thumbelina, or Tiny, because she was so small. A walnut-shell, elegantly polished, served her for a cradle. Her bed was formed of blue-violet leaves, with a rose leaf for a counterpane. Here she slept at night, but during the day she amused herself on a table, where the woman had placed a plateful of water. Round this plate were wreaths of flowers with their stems in the water, and upon it floated a large tulip-leaf, which served tiny for a boat.
Here the little maiden sat and rowed herself from side to side, with two oars made of white horsehair. It really was a very pretty sight. Tiny could also sing so softly and sweetly that nothing like her singing had ever before been heard. One night, while she lay in her pretty bed, a large, ugly, wet toad crept through a broken pane of glass in the window, and leaped right upon the table where Tiny lay, sleeping under her rose-leaf quilt. "'What a pretty little wife this would make for my son,' said the toad, and she took up the walnut shell in which little Tiny lay asleep, and jumped through the window with it into the garden. In the swampy margin of a broad stream in the garden lived the toad with her son.
He was uglier even than his mother, And when he saw the pretty little maiden in her elegant bed, he could only cry, Don't speak so loud, or she will wake," said the Toad, and then she might run away, for she is as light as swansdown. We will place her on one of the water-lily leaves out in the stream. It will be like an island to her, she is so light and small, and then she cannot escape. And while she is away, we will make haste and prepare the stateroom under the marsh, in which you are to live when you are married. Far out in the stream grew a number of water-lilies, with broad green leaves, which seemed to float on the top of the water. The largest of these leaves appeared farther out than the rest, and the old toad swam out to it with the walnut-shell, in which little Tiny lay still asleep.
The tiny little creature woke very early in the morning, and began to cry bitterly when she found where she was, for she could see nothing but water on every side of the large green leaf, and no way of reaching the land. Meanwhile the old toad was very busy under the marsh, decking her room with rushes and wild yellow flowers, to make it look pretty for her new daughter-in-law. Then she swam out with her ugly son to the leaf on which she had placed poor little Tiny. She wanted to fetch the pretty bed, that she might put it in the bridal chamber to be ready for her. The old toad bowed low to her in the water and said, "'Here is my son. He will be your husband, and you will live happily in the marsh by the stream.'" The toad took up the elegant little bed and swam away with it, leaving Tiny all alone on the green leaf where she sat and wept.
She could not bear to think of living with the old toad and having her ugly son for a husband. The little fishes who swam about in the water beneath had seen the toad and heard what she said. So they lifted their heads above the water to look at the little maiden. As soon as they caught sight of her they saw she was very pretty, and it made them very sorry to think that she must go and live with the ugly toads. Oh, it must never be! So they assembled together in the water, round the green stalk which held the leaf on which the little maiden stood, and gnawed it away at the root with their teeth. Then the leaf floated down the stream, carrying Tiny far away out of reach of land. Tiny sailed past many towns, and the little birds in the bushes saw her and sang, What a lovely little creature!
So the leaf swam away with her farther and farther till it brought her to other lands. A graceful little white butterfly Constantly fluttered around her, and at last alighted on the leaf. Tiny pleased him, and she was glad of it, for now the toad could not possibly reach her, and the country through which she now sailed was beautiful, and the sun shone upon the water till it glittered like liquid gold. She took off her girdle and tied one end of it round the butterfly, and the other end of the ribbon she fastened to the leaf. Which now glided on much faster than ever, taking Little Tiny with it as she stood. Presently a large cockchaffer flew by. The moment he caught sight of her, he seized her round her delicate waist with his claws, and flew with her into a tree.
The green leaf floated away on the brook, and the butterfly flew with it, for he was fastened to it and could not get away. Oh, how frightened the little Tiny felt when the cockchafer flew with her to the tree! But especially was she sorry for the beautiful white butterfly, which she had fastened to the leaf, for if he could not free himself he would die of hunger. But the cockchafer did not trouble himself at all about the matter. He seated himself by her side on a large green leaf, gave her some honey from the flowers to eat, and told her she was very pretty, though not in the least like a cockchafer. After a time all the cockchafers turned up their feelers and said, "'She has only two legs.
How ugly that looks!' "'She has no feelers,' said another. "'Her waist is quite slim. Poo! She is like a human being.' "'Oh, she is ugly,' said all the lady cockchafers. Although Tiny was very pretty. Then the cockchafer who had run away with her believed all the others when they said she was ugly, and would have nothing more to say to her, and told her she might go where she liked. Then he flew down with her from the tree, and placed her on a daisy, and she wept at the thought that she was so ugly that even the cockchafers would have nothing to say to her. And all the while she was really the loveliest creature that one could imagine, and as tender and delicate as a beautiful rose-leaf. During the whole summer poor little Tiny lived quite alone in the wide forest.
She wove herself a bed with blades of grass, and hung it up under a broad leaf, to protect herself from the rain. She sucked the honey from the flowers for food, and drank the dew from their leaves every morning. So passed away the summer and the autumn, and then came winter, the long, cold winter. All the birds who had sung to her so sweetly were flown away, and the trees and the flowers had withered. The large clover-leaf under the shelter of which she had lived was now rolled together and shriveled up. Nothing remained but a yellow, withered stalk. She felt dreadfully cold, for her clothes were torn, and she was herself so frail and delicate that poor little Tiny was nearly frozen to death.
It began to snow, too, and the snowflakes as they fell upon her We're like a whole shovelful falling upon one of us, for we are tall, but she was only an inch high. Then she wrapped herself up in a dry leaf, but it cracked in the middle and could not keep her warm, and she shivered with cold. Near the wood in which she had been living lay a cornfield, but the corn had been cut a long time. Nothing remained but the bare, dry stubble standing up out of the frozen ground. It was to her like struggling through a large wood. Oh, how she shivered with the cold! She came at last to the door of a field-mouse, who had a little den under the corn stubble. There dwelt the field-mouse in warmth and comfort, with the whole room full of corn.
A kitchen and a beautiful dining-room. Poor little Tiny stood before the door just like a little beggar girl, and begged for a small piece of barleycorn, for she had been without a morsel to eat for two days. "'You poor little creature,' said the field-mouse, who was really a good old field-mouse. "'Come into my warm room and dine with me.' She was very pleased with Tiny, so she said, "'You are quite welcome to stay with me all the winter, if you like. But you must keep my rooms clean and neat, and tell me stories, for I shall like to hear them very much.' And Tiny did all the field-mouse asked her, and found herself very comfortable. "'We shall have a visitor soon,' said the field-mouse one day.
My neighbor pays me a visit once a week. He is better off than I am. He has large rooms, and wears a beautiful black velvet coat. If you could only have him for a husband, you would be well provided for indeed. But he is blind, so you must tell him some of your prettiest stories." But Tiny did not feel at all interested about this neighbor, for he was a mole. However he came and paid his visit dressed in his black velvet coat. "'He is very rich and learned, and his house is twenty times larger than mine,' said the field-mouse. He was rich and learned, no doubt. But he always spoke slightingly of the sun and the pretty flowers, because he had never seen them." Tiny was obliged to sing to him, Lady Bird, Lady Bird, Fly Away Home, and many other pretty songs, and the Mole fell in love with her because she had such a sweet voice.
But he said nothing yet, for he was very cautious. A short time before the Mole had dug a long passage under the earth, which led from the dwelling of the field-mouse to his own, and here She had permission to walk with Tiny whenever she liked. But he warned them not to be alarmed at the sight of a dead bird which lay in the passage. It was a perfect bird, with a beak and feathers, and could not have been dead long, and was lying just where the Mole had made his passage. The Mole took a piece of phosphorescent wood in its mouth, and it glittered like fire in the dark. Then he went before them to light them through the long, dark passage. When they came to the spot where lay the dead bird, the Mole pushed his broad nose through the ceiling, the earth gave way, so that there was a large hole, and the daylight shone into the passage.
In the middle of the floor lay a dead swallow, his beautiful wings pulled close to his sides, his feet and his head drawn up under his feathers. The poor bird had evidently died of the cold. It made Little Tiny very sad to see it. She did so love the little birds. All the summer they had sung and twittered for her so beautifully. But the Mole pushed it aside with his crooked legs, and said, "'He will sing no more now. How miserable it must be to be born a little bird. I am thankful that none of my children will ever be born.'" Birds! For they can do nothing but cry, Tweet! Tweet! and always die of hunger in the winter. Yes, you may well say that as a clever man, exclaimed the field-mouse. What is the use of his twittering?
For when winter comes he must either starve or be frozen to death. Still birds are very high-bred. Tiny said nothing. But when the two others had turned their backs on the bird— She stooped down and stroked aside the soft feathers which covered the head, and kissed the closed eyelids. Perhaps this was the one who sang to me so sweetly in the summer, she said. And how much pleasure it gave me, you dear pretty bird! The Mole now stopped up the hole through which the daylight shone, and then accompanied the lady home. But during the night— Tiny could not sleep, so she got out of bed and wove a large, beautiful carpet of hay, then she carried it to the dead bird, and spread it over him, with some down from the feathers which she had found in the field-mouse's room.
It was as soft as wool, and she spread some of it on either side of the bird, so that he might lie warmly in the cold earth. said she. Farewell. Thank you for your delightful singing during the summer, when all the trees were green and the warm sun shone upon us. Then she laid her head on the bird's breast. But she was alarmed immediately, for it seemed as if something inside the bird went thump, thump. It was the bird's heart. He was not really dead, only benumbed with the cold. And the warmth had restored him to life. In autumn all the swallows fly away into warm countries. But if one happens to linger the cold seizes it. It becomes frozen and falls down as if dead. It remains where it fell, and the cold snow covers it.
Tiny trembled very much. She was quite frightened. For the bird was large, a great deal larger than herself. She was only an inch high. But she took courage, laid the wool more thickly over the poor swallow, and then took a leaf which she had used for her own counterpane, and laid it over the head of the poor bird. The next morning she again stole out to see him. He was alive, but very weak. He could only open his eyes for a moment to look at Tiny. who stood by holding a piece of decayed wood in her hand, for she had no other lantern. "'Thank you, pretty little maiden,' said the sick swallow. "'I have been so nicely warmed that I shall soon regain my strength and be able to fly about again in the warm sunshine.' "'Oh,' said she, "'it is cold out of doors now.
It snows and freezes.' Stay in your warm bed. I will take care of you." Then she brought the swallow some water and a flower-leaf, and after he had drank he told her that he had wounded one of his wings in a thorn-bush, and could not fly as fast as the others, who were soon far away on their journey to warm countries. Then at last he had fallen to the earth, and could remember no more, nor how he came to be where she had found him. The whole winter the swallow remained underground, and Tiny nursed him with care and love. Neither the Mole nor the Field-mouse knew anything about it, for they did not like swallows. Very soon the springtime came, and the sun warmed the earth. Then the swallow bade farewell to Tiny, and she opened the hole in the ceiling which the Mole had made.
The sun shone in upon them so beautifully that the Swallow asked her if she could go with him. She could sit on his back, he said, and he would fly away with her into the green woods. But Tiny knew it would make the field-mouse very grieved if she left her in that manner, so she said, No, I cannot. Farewell, then. Farewell, you good pretty little maiden," said the Swallow. and he flew out into the sunshine.
Tiny looked after him, and the tears rose in her eyes. She was very fond of the poor swallow. "'Twee, twee,' sang the bird as he flew out into the green woods, and Tiny felt very sad. She was not allowed to go out into the warm sunshine. The corn, which had been sown in the field over the house of the field-mouse, had grown up high into the air, and formed a thick wood to Tiny, who was only an inch in height. "'You are going to be married, Tiny,' said the field-mouse. "'My neighbor has asked for you. What good fortune for a poor child like you! Now we will prepare your wedding clothes.' They must be both woolen and linen. Nothing must be wanting when you are the Mole's wife." Tiny had to turn the spindle, and the field-mouse hired four spiders, who were to weave day and night.
Every evening the Mole visited her, and was continually speaking of the time when the summer would be over. Then he would keep his wedding-day with Tiny, But now the heat of the sun was so great that it burned the earth, and made it quite hard like a stone. As soon as the summer was over the wedding should take place. But Tiny was not at all pleased, for she did not like the tiresome mole. Every morning when the sun rose, and every evening when it went down, she would creep out at the door. And as the wind blew aside the ears of corn, so that she could see the blue sky, she thought how beautiful and bright it seemed out there, and wished so much to see her dear swallow again. But he never returned, for by this time he had flown far away into the lovely green forest.
When autumn arrived, Tiny had her outfit quite ready, and the field-mouse said to her, In four weeks the wedding must take place. Then Tiny wept, and said she could not marry the disagreeable Mole. "'Nonsense,' replied the field-mouse. "'Now don't be obstinate, or I shall bite you with my white teeth. He is a very handsome Mole. The Queen herself does not wear more beautiful velvets and furs. His kitchen and cellars are quite full.' You ought to be very thankful for such good fortune." So the wedding-day was fixed, on which the Mole was to fetch Tiny away to live with him deep under the earth, and never again to see the warm sun, because he did not like it. The poor child was very unhappy at the thought of saying farewell to the beautiful sun, and as the field-mouse had given her permission to stand at the door, she went to look at it once more.
"'Farewell, bright sun,' she cried, stretching out her arm towards it, and then she walked a short distance from the house, where the corn had been cut, and only the dry stubble remained in the fields. "'Farewell, farewell,' she repeated, twining her arm round a little red flower that grew just by her side. "'Greet the little swallow from me, if you should see him again.' "'Tweet, tweet!' sounded over her head suddenly. She looked up, and there was the swallow himself, flying close by. As soon as he spied Tiny, he was delighted, and then she told him how unwilling she felt to marry the ugly mole, and to live always beneath the earth, and never to see the bright sun any more, and as she told him she wept.
"'Cold winter is coming,' said the swallow, "'and I am going to fly away into the warmer countries. Will you go with me? You can sit on my back and fasten yourself on with your sash. Then we can fly away from the ugly Mole and his gloomy rooms, far away over the mountains, into warmer countries where the sun shines more brightly than here.'" Where it is always summer, and the flowers bloom in greater beauty. Fly now with me, dear little Tiny. You saved my life when I lay frozen in that dark passage." Yes, I will go with you," said Tiny. And she seated herself on the bird's back, with her feet on his outstretched wings, and tied her girdle to one of his strongest feathers. Then the swallow rose in the air and flew over forests and over sea, high over the highest mountains, covered with eternal snow.
Tiny would have been frozen in the cold air, but she crept under the bird's warm feathers, keeping her little head uncovered, so that she might admire the beautiful lands over which they passed. At length they reached the warm countries where the sun shines brightly, and the sky seems so much higher above the earth. Here, on the hedges and by the wayside, grew purple, green, and white grapes, lemons and oranges hung from trees in the woods, and the air was fragrant with myrtles and orange blossoms. Beautiful children ran along the country lanes, playing with large gay butterflies, And as the swallow flew farther and farther, every place appeared still more lovely. At last they came to a blue lake, and by the side of it, shaded by trees of the deepest green, stood a palace of dazzling white marble built in the olden times.
Vines clustered round its lofty pillars, and at the top were many swallows' nests. And one of these was the home of the swallow who carried Tiny. This is my house," said the swallow. But it would not do for you to live there. You would not be comfortable. You must choose for yourself one of those lovely flowers, and I will put you down upon it, and then you shall have everything that you can wish to make you happy. That would be delightful," she said, and clapped her little hands for joy. A large marble pillar lay on the ground, which, in falling, had been broken into three pieces. Between these pieces grew the most beautiful large white flowers, so the swallow flew down with Tiny and placed her on one of the broad leaves.
But— How surprised she was to see in the middle of the flower a tiny little man, as white and transparent as if he had been made of crystal. He had a gold crown on his head, and delicate wings at his shoulders, and was not much larger than Tiny herself. He was the angel of the flower, for a tiny man and a tiny woman dwelled in every flower. And this was the king of them all. Oh, how beautiful he is," whispered Tiny to the swallow. The little prince was at first quite frightened at the bird, who was like a giant compared to such a delicate little creature as himself. But when he saw Tiny he was delighted, and thought her the prettiest little maiden he had ever seen. He took the gold crown from his head, and placed it on hers, and asked her name, and if she would be his wife and queen over all the flowers.
This certainly was a different sort of husband to the son of a toad, or the mole, with my black velvet and fur. So she said yes to the handsome prince. Then all the flowers opened, and out of each came a little lady or a tiny lord, All so pretty it was quite a pleasure to look at them. Each of them brought Tiny a present, but the best gift was a pair of beautiful wings, which had belonged to a large white fly, and they fastened them to Tiny's shoulders, so that she might fly from flower to flower. Then there was much rejoicing, and the little swallow who sat above them in his nest was asked to sing a wedding song, which he did as well as he could. But in his heart he felt sad, for he was very fond of Tiny, and would have liked never to depart from her again.
"'You must not be called Tiny any more,' said the spirit of the flowers to her. "'It is an ugly name, and you are very pretty. We will call you Maya.' "'Farewell, farewell,' said the swallow. With a heavy heart, as he left the warm countries, to fly back into Denmark, there he had a nest over the window of a house in which dwelt the writer of fairy tales. The swallow sang Tweet, tweet, and from his song came the whole story.
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4 04 - The Brave Little Tin Soldier 11:44
The Brave Tin Soldier. There were once five and twenty tin soldiers who were all brothers, for they had been made out of the same old tin spoon. They shouldered arms and looked straight before them, and wore a splendid uniform, red and blue. The first thing in the world they ever heard were the words, "'Ten soldiers!' uttered by a little boy, who clapped his hands with delight when the lid of the box in which they lay was taken off. They were given him for a birthday present, and he stood at the table to set them up. These soldiers were all exactly alike, excepting one who had only one leg, He had been left to the last, and there was not enough of the melted tin to finish him. So they made him to stand firmly on one leg, and this caused him to be very remarkable.
The table on which the tin soldier stood was covered with other playthings, but the most attractive to the eye was a pretty little paper castle. Through the small windows the rooms could be seen. In front of the castle a number of little trees surrounded a piece of looking-glass, which was intended to represent a transparent lake. Swans, made of wax, swam on the lake, and were reflected in it. All this was very pretty, but the prettiest of all was a tiny little lady who stood at the open door of the castle. She also was made of paper. And she wore a dress of clear muslin, with a narrow blue ribbon over her shoulders, just like a scarf. In front of these was fixed a glittering tinsel rose, as large as her whole face.
The little lady was a dancer, and she stretched out both her arms, and raised one of her legs so high That the tin soldier could not see it at all, and he thought that she, like himself, had only one leg. That is the wife for me, he thought. But she is too grand, and lives in a castle. While I have only a box to live in, five and twenty of us altogether, that is no place for her. Still I must try and make her acquaintance. Then he laid himself at full length on the table, behind a snuff-box that stood upon it, so that he could peep at the little, delicate lady, who continued to stand on one leg without losing her balance. When evening came, the other ten soldiers were all placed in the box, and the people of the house went to bed.
Then the playthings began to have their own games together, to pay visits, to have sham fights, and to give balls. The tin soldiers rattled in their box. They wanted to get out and join the amusements, but they could not open the lid. The nutcrackers played at leapfrog, and the pencil jumped about the table. There was such a noise that the canary woke up and began to talk, and in poetry, too. Only the tin soldier and the dancer remained in their places. She stood on tiptoe, with her legs stretched out as firmly as he did on his one leg. He never took his eyes from her for even a moment. The clock struck twelve, and with a bounce up sprang the lid of the snuff-box, but instead of snuff there jumped up a little black goblin, for the snuff-box was a toy puzzle.
TEN SOLDIER said the goblin. Don't wish for what does not belong to you. But the tin soldier pretended not to hear. Very well. Wait till to-morrow, then, said the goblin. When the children came in the next morning, they placed the tin soldier in the window. Now, whether it was the goblin who did it, or the draft, it is not known. But the window flew open, and out fell the tin soldier, heels overhead, from the third story into the street below. It was a terrible fall, for he came head downwards, his helmet and his bayonet stuck in between the flagstones, and his one leg up in the air. The servant-maid and the little boy went downstairs directly to look for him. But he was nowhere to be seen, although once they nearly trod upon him.
If he had called out, Here I am, it would have been all right, but he was too proud to cry out for help while he wore a uniform. Presently it began to rain, and the drops fell faster and faster, till there was a heavy shower. When it was over, two boys happened to pass by, and one of them said, Look! Here is the tin soldier. He ought to have a boat to sail in. So they made a boat out of a newspaper, and placed the tin soldier in it, and sent him sailing down the gutter, while the two boys ran by the side of it and clapped their hands. Good gracious! What large waves arose in that gutter, and how fast the stream rolled on, for the rain had been very heavy. The paper-boat rocked up and down, and turned itself round sometimes so quickly that the tin soldier trembled.
Yet he remained firm. His countenance did not change. He looked straight before him and shouldered his musket. Suddenly the boat shot under a bridge, which formed a part of a drain, and then it was as dark as the tin soldier's box. Where am I going now? Thought he. This is the black goblin's fault, I am sure. Ah, well, if the little lady were only here with me in the boat, I should not care for any darkness. Suddenly there appeared a great water rat who lived in the drain. Have you a passport? asked the rat. Give it to me at once. But the tin soldier remained silent and held his musket tighter than ever. The boat sailed on, and the Rat followed it. How he did gnash his teeth and cry out to the bits of wood and straw.
Stop him! Stop him! He has not paid toll, and has not shown his pass. But the stream rushed on, stronger and stronger. The tin soldier could already see daylight shining where the arch ended. Then he heard a roaring sound, quite terrible enough to frighten the bravest man. At the end of the tunnel the drain fell into a large canal over a steep place, which made it as dangerous for him as a waterfall would be to us. He was too close to it to stop, so the boat rushed on, and the poor tin soldier could only hold himself as stiffly as possible without moving an eyelid to show that he was not afraid. The boat whirled round three or four times. And then, filled with water to the very edge, nothing could save it from sinking.
He now stood up to his neck in water, while deeper and deeper sank the boat, and the paper became soft and loose with the wet, till at last the water closed over the soldier's head. He thought of the elegant little dancer, whom he should never see again, and the words of the song sounded in his ears. Farewell, warrior, ever brave, drifting onward to thy grave. Then the paper-boat fell to pieces, and the soldier sank into the water, and immediately afterwards was swallowed up by a great fish. Oh, how dark it was inside the fish! A great deal darker than in the tunnel, and narrower, too. But the tin soldier continued firm, and lay at full length shouldering his musket. The fish swam to and fro, making the most wonderful movements, but at last he became quite still.
After a while a flash of lightning seemed to pass through him, and then the daylight approached, and a voice cried out, "'I declare, here is the tin soldier!' The fish had been caught. Taken to the market and sold to the cook, who took him into the kitchen and cut him open with a large knife. She picked up the soldier and held him by the waist between her finger and thumb, and carried him into the room. They were all anxious to see this wonderful soldier, who had traveled about inside a fish, but he was not at all proud. They placed him on the table, and—how many curious things do happen in the world— There he was, in the very same room from the window of which he had fallen. There were the same children, the same playthings, standing on the table, and the pretty castle, with the elegant little dancer at the door, she still balanced herself on one leg, and held up the other, so she was as firm as himself.
It touched the tin soldier so much to see her that he almost wept ten tears. But he kept them back. He only looked at her, and they both remained silent. Presently one of the little boys took up the tin soldier and threw him into the stove. He had no reason for doing so. Therefore it must have been the fault of the black goblin who lived in the snuff-box. The flames lighted up the tin soldier as he stood. The heat was very terrible. But whether it proceeded from the real fire or from the fire of love he could not tell. Then he could see the bright colors were faded from his uniform. But whether they had been washed off during his journey or from the effects of his sorrow no one could say. He looked at the little lady, and she looked at him.
He felt himself melting away, but he still remained firm with his gun on his shoulder. Suddenly the door of the room flew open, and the draught of air caught up the little dancer. She fluttered like a sylph right into the stove by the side of the tin soldier, and was instantly in flames and was gone. The tin soldier melted down into a lump, and the next morning, when the maid-servant took the ashes out of the stove, she found him in the shape of a little tin heart. But of the little dancer nothing remained but the tinsel rose, which was burnt black as a cinder.
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5 05 - There is No Doubt About It 6:37
There is no doubt about it. That was a terrible affair, said a hen, and in a quarter of the town, too, where it had not taken place. That was a terrible affair in a hen-roost. I cannot sleep alone to-night. It is a good thing that many of us sit on the roost together." And then she told a story that made the feathers on the other hens bristle up, and the coxcomb fall. There was no doubt about it. But we will begin at the beginning, and that is to be found in a hen-roost in another part of the town.
The sun was setting, and the fowls were flying on to their roost. One hen, with white feathers and short legs, used to lay her eggs according to the regulations, and was, as a hen, respectable in every way. As she was flying upon the roost, she plucked herself with her beak, and a little feather came out. "'There he goes,' she said. "'The more I pluck, the more beautiful do I get.' She said this merrily, for she was the best of the Hens, and, moreover, as has been said, very respectable. With that she went to sleep. It was dark all around, and Hens sat close to Hens, but the one who sat nearest to her merry neighbor did not sleep. She had heard, and yet not heard, as we are often obliged to do in this world, in order to live at peace, But she could not keep it from her neighbor on the other side any longer.
Did you hear what was said? I mention no names, but there is a hen here who intends to pluck herself in order to look well. If I were a cock I should despise her. Just over the fowls sat the owl, with Father Owl and the little owls. The family had sharp ears, and they all heard every word that their neighbor had said. They rolled their eyes, and Mother Owl, beating her wings, said, Don't listen to her. But I suppose you heard what was said. I heard it with my own ears, and one has to hear a great deal before they fall off. There is one among the fowls, who has so far forgotten what is becoming to a hen, That she plucks out all her feathers and lets the cock see it. "'Prendez, gardez-aux-enfants,' said Father Owl.
Children should not hear such things. But I must tell our neighbor Owl about it. She is such an estimable Owl to talk to.' And with that she flew away. "'Too! Too!' They both hooted into the neighbor's dove-cot to the dove's inside. Have you heard? Have you heard? To-whoop! To-whoop! There is a hen who has plucked out all her feathers for the sake of the cock. She will freeze to death if she is not frozen already. To-whoop! Where? Where? cooed the doves. In the neighbor's yard. I have as good as seen it myself. It is almost unbecoming to tell the story, but there is no doubt about it. "'Believe every word of what we tell you,' said the doves, and cooed down into their poultry-yard. "'There is a hen—nay, some say there are two—who have plucked out all their feathers, in order not to look like the others, and to attract the attention of the cock.
It is a dangerous game.' For one can easily catch cold and die from fever, and both of these are dead already. "'Wake up! Wake up!' crowed the cock, and flew upon his board. Sleep was still in his eyes, but yet he crowed out. Three hens have died of their unfortunate love for a cock. They had plucked out all their feathers. It is a horrible story. I will not keep it to myself, but let it go farther. Let it go farther, shrieked the bats, and the hens clucked and the cocks crowed. Let it go farther, let it go farther. In this way the story traveled from poultry-yard to poultry-yard, and at last came back to the place from which it had really started. Five hens, it now ran, have plucked out all their feathers, to show which of them had grown leanest for love of the cock.
And then they all pecked at each other till the blood ran down, and they fell down dead, to the derision and shame of their family, and to the great loss of their owner. The hen, who had lost the loose little feather, naturally did not recognize her own story. And, being a respectable hen, said, I despise those fowls. But there are more of that kind. Such things ought not to be concealed. And I will do my best to get the story into the papers, so that it becomes known throughout the land. The hens have richly deserved it, and their families, too. It got into the papers. It was printed. And there is no doubt about it. One little feather may easily grow into five hens.
End of The Emperor's New Clothes by Hans Christian Andersen These stories were read by Phil Chenever in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, in November of 2013. Thank you for listening.