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Make haste into the guardroom; they're drinking punch there; that's your favorite drink. Ican smell it out here already. Forward, Master March." But it wasnot true; the speaker only wanted to remind him of his name, and tomake an APRIL fool of him; for with that fun the fourth generallybegan his career. He looked very jovial, did little work, and hadthe more holidays. "If the world were only a little more settled,"said he: "but sometimes I'm obliged to be in a good humor, andsometimes a bad one, according to circumstances; now rain, nowsunshine. I'm kind of a house agent, also a manager of funerals. I canlaugh or cry, according to circumstances. I have my summer wardrobe inthis box here, but it would be very foolish to put it on now. Here Iam. On Sundays I go out walking in shoes and white silk stockings, anda muff."
After him, a lady stepped out of the coach. She called herselfMiss MAY. She wore a summer dress and overshoes; her dress was a lightgreen, and she wore anemones in her hair. She was so scented withwild-thyme, that it made the sentry sneeze.
"Your health, and God bless you," was her salutation to him.
How pretty she was! and such a singer! not a theatre singer, nor aballad singer; no, but a singer of the woods; for she wandered throughthe gay green forest, and had a concert there for her own amusement.
"Now comes the young lady," said those in the carriage; and outstepped a young dame, delicate, proud, and pretty. It was MistressJUNE, in whose service people become lazy and fond of sleeping forhours. She gives a feast on the longest day of the year, that theremay be time for her guests to partake of the numerous dishes at hertable. Indeed, she keeps her own carriage; but still she travelledby the mail, with the rest, because she wished to show that she wasnot high-minded. But she was not without a protector; her youngerbrother, JULY, was with her. He was a plump young fellow, clad insummer garments and wearing a straw hat. He had but very littleluggage with him, because it was so cumbersome in the great heat; hehad, however, swimming-trousers with him, which are nothing tocarry. Then came the mother herself, in crinoline, Madame AUGUST, awholesale dealer in fruit, proprietress of a large number of fishponds and a land cultivator. She was fat and heated, yet she could useher hands well, and would herself carry out beer to the laborers inthe field. "In the sweat of the face shalt thou eat bread," saidshe; "it is written in the Bible." After work, came the recreations,dancing and playing in the greenwood, and the "harvest homes." She wasa thorough housewife.
After her a man came out of the coach, who is a painter; he is thegreat master of colors, and is named SEPTEMBER. The forest, on hisarrival, had to change its colors when he wished it; and how beautifulare the colors he chooses! The woods glow with hues of red and goldand brown. This great master painter could whistle like a blackbird.He was quick in his work, and soon entwined the tendrils of the hopplant around his beer jug. This was an ornament to the jug, and he hasa great love for ornament. There he stood with his color pot in hishand, and that was the whole of his luggage. A land-owner followed,who in the month for sowing seed attended to the ploughing and wasfond of field sports. Squire OCTOBER brought his dog and his gunwith him, and had nuts in his game bag. "Crack, crack." He had a greatdeal of luggage, even an English plough. He spoke of farming, but whathe said could scarcely be heard for the coughing and gasping of hisneighbor. It was NOVEMBER, who coughed violently as he got out. He hada cold, which caused him to use his pocket-handkerchief continually;and yet he said he was obliged to accompany servant girls to their newplaces, and initiate them into their winter service. He said hethought his cold would never leave him when he went out woodcutting,for he was a master sawyer, and had to supply wood to the wholeparish. He spent his evenings preparing wooden soles for skates, forhe knew, he said, that in a few weeks these shoes would be wantedfor the amusement of skating. At length the last passenger made herappearance,- old Mother DECEMBER, with her fire-stool. The dame wasvery old, but her eyes glistened like two stars. She carried on herarm a flower-pot, in which a little fir-tree was growing. "This tree Ishall guard and cherish," she said, "that it may grow large byChristmas Eve, and reach from the ground to the ceiling, to be coveredand adorned with flaming candles, golden apples, and little figures.The fire-stool will be as warm as a stove, and I shall then bring astory book out of my pocket, and read aloud till all the children inthe room are quite quiet. Then the little figures on the tree willbecome lively, and the little waxen angel at the top spread out hiswings of gold-leaf, and fly down from his green perch. He will kissevery one in the room, great and small; yes, even the poor childrenwho stand in the passage, or out in the street singing a carol aboutthe 'Star of Bethlehem.'"
"Well, now the coach may drive away," said the sentry; "we havethe whole twelve. Let the horses be put up."
"First, let all the twelve come to me," said the captain onduty, "one after another. The passports I will keep here. Each of themis available for one month; when that has passed, I shall write thebehavior of each on his passport. Mr. JANUARY, have the goodness tocome here." And Mr. January stepped forward.
When a year has passed, I think I shall be able to tell you whatthe twelve passengers have brought to you, to me, and to all of us.Now I do not know, and probably even they don't know themselves, forwe live in strange times.
THE END.
1872
FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
THE MARSH KING'S DAUGHTER
by Hans Christian Andersen
THE storks relate to their little ones a great many stories, andthey are all about moors and reed banks, and suited to their age andcapacity. The youngest of them are quite satisfied with "kribble,krabble," or such nonsense, and think it very grand; but the elderones want something with a deeper meaning, or at least something abouttheir own family.
We are only acquainted with one of the two longest and oldeststories which the storks relate- it is about Moses, who was exposed byhis mother on the banks of the Nile, and was found by the king'sdaughter, who gave him a good education, and he afterwards became agreat man; but where he was buried is still unknown.
Every one knows this story, but not the second; very likelybecause it is quite an inland story. It has been repeated from mouthto mouth, from one stork-mamma to another, for thousands of years; andeach has told it better than the last; and now we mean to tell itbetter than all.
The first stork pair who related it lived at the time it happened,and had their summer residence on the rafters of the Viking's house,which stood near the wild moorlands of Wendsyssell; that is, tospeak more correctly, the great moorheath, high up in the north ofJutland, by the Skjagen peak. This wilderness is still an immense wildheath of marshy ground, about which we can read in the "OfficialDirectory." It is said that in olden times the place was a lake, theground of which had heaved up from beneath, and now the moorlandextends for miles in every direction, and is surrounded by dampmeadows, trembling, undulating swamps, and marshy ground coveredwith turf, on which grow bilberry bushes and stunted trees. Mistsare almost always hovering over this region, which, seventy years ago,was overrun with wolves. It may well be called the Wild Moor; andone can easily imagine, with such a wild expanse of marsh and lake,how lonely and dreary it must have been a thousand years ago. Manythings may be noticed now that existed then. The reeds grow to thesame height, and bear the same kind of long, purple-brown leaves, withtheir feathery tips. There still stands the birch, with its white barkand its delicate, loosely hanging leaves; and with regard to theliving beings who frequented this spot, the fly still wears a gauzydress of the same cut, and the favorite colors of the stork are white,with black and red for stockings. The people, certainly, in thosedays, wore very different dresses to those they now wear, but if anyof them, be he huntsman or squire, master or servant, ventured onthe wavering, undulating, marshy ground of the moor, they met with thesame fate a thousand years ago as they would now. The wanderer sank,and went down to the Marsh King, as he is named, who rules in thegreat moorland empire beneath. They also called him "Gunkel King," butwe like the name of "Marsh King" better, and we will give him thatname as the storks do. Very little is known of the Marsh King'srule, but that, perhaps, is a good thing.
In the neighborhood of the moorlands, and not far from the greatarm of the North Sea and the Cattegat which is called theLumfjorden, lay the castle of the Viking, with its water-tight stonecellars, its tower, and its three projecting storeys. On the ridgeof the roof the stork had built his nest, and there the stork-mammasat on her eggs and felt sure her hatching would come to something.
One evening, stork-papa stayed out rather late, and when he camehome he seemed quite busy, bustling, and important. "I havesomething very dreadful to tell you," said he to the stork-mamma.
"Keep it to yourself then," she replied. "Remember that I amhatching eggs; it may agitate me, and will affect them."
"You must know it at once," said he. "The daughter of our hostin Egypt has arrived here. She has ventured to take this journey,and now she is lost."
"She who sprung from the race of the fairies, is it?"
