《安徒生童话英文版》第206章

　　So has there been a bridge built between this world and thenext. Through the night of the grave we gaze upwards beyond thestars to the end of all things. Then we glance at the pearl of Sorrow,in which are concealed the wings which shall carry us away toeternal happiness.

　　THE END.

　　1872

　　FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

　　THE LITTLE ELDER-TREE MOTHER

　　by Hans Christian Andersen

　　THERE was once a little boy who had caught cold; he had gone outand got wet feet. Nobody had the least idea how it had happened; theweather was quite dry. His mother undressed him, put him to bed, andordered the teapot to be brought in, that she might make him a goodcup of tea from the elder-tree blossoms, which is so warming. At thesame time, the kind-hearted old man who lived by himself in theupper storey of the house came in; he led a lonely life, for he had nowife and children; but he loved the children of others very much,and he could tell so many fairy tales and stories, that it was apleasure to hear him.

　　"Now, drink your tea," said the mother; "perhaps you will hear astory."

　　"Yes, if I only knew a fresh one," said the old man, and noddedsmilingly. "But how did the little fellow get his wet feet?" he thenasked.

　　"That," replied the mother, "nobody can understand."

　　"Will you tell me a story?" asked the boy.

　　"Yes, if you can tell me as nearly as possible how deep is thegutter in the little street where you go to school."

　　"Just half as high as my top-boots," replied the boy; "but thenI must stand in the deepest holes."

　　"There, now we know where you got your wet feet," said the oldman. "I ought to tell you a story, but the worst of it is, I do notknow any more."

　　"You can make one up," said the little boy. "Mother says you cantell a fairy tale about anything you look at or touch."

　　"That is all very well, but such tales or stories are worthnothing! No, the right ones come by themselves and knock at myforehead saying: 'Here I am.'"

　　"Will not one knock soon?" asked the boy; and the mother smiledwhile she put elder-tree blossoms into the teapot and poured boilingwater over them. "Pray, tell me a story."

　　"Yes, if stories came by themselves; they are so proud, theyonly come when they please.- But wait," he said suddenly, "there isone. Look at the teapot; there is a story in it now."

　　And the little boy looked at the teapot; the lid rose upgradually, the elder-tree blossoms sprang forth one by one, freshand white; long boughs came forth; even out of the spout they grewup in all directions, and formed a bush- nay, a large elder tree,which stretched its branches up to the bed and pushed the curtainsaside; and there were so many blossoms and such a sweet fragrance!In the midst of the tree sat a kindly-looking old woman with a strangedress; it was as green as the leaves, and trimmed with large whiteblossoms, so that it was difficult to say whether it was real cloth,or the leaves and blossoms of the elder-tree.

　　"What is this woman's name?" asked the little boy.

　　"Well, the Romans and Greeks used to call her a Dryad," said theold man; "but we do not understand that. Out in the sailors' quarterthey give her a better name; there she is called elder-tree mother.Now, you must attentively listen to her and look at the beautifulelder-tree.

　　"Just such a large tree, covered with flowers, stands out there;it grew in the corner of an humble little yard; under this tree sattwo old people one afternoon in the beautiful sunshine. He was an old,old sailor, and she his old wife; they had alreadygreat-grandchildren, and were soon to celebrate their goldenwedding, but they could not remember the date, and the elder-treemother was sitting in the tree and looked as pleased as this one here.'I know very well when the golden wedding is to take place,' she said;but they did not hear it- they were talking of bygone days.

　　"'Well, do you remember?