 The Pea Blossom by Hans Christian Andersen. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording by Amy Benton. The Pea Blossom by Hans Christian Andersen translated by HP Poll. There were once five peas in one shell. They were green. The shell was green and so they believed the whole world must be green also, which was a very natural conclusion. The shell grew and the peas grew. They accommodated themselves to their position and sat all in a row. The sun, shown without and warmed the shell, and the rain made it clear and transparent. It was mild and agreeable in broad daylight and dark at night, as it generally is, and the peas, as they sat there, grew bigger and bigger and more thoughtful as they mused, for they felt there must be something else for them to do. Are we to sit here forever? asked one. Shall we not become hard by sitting so long? It seems to me there must be something outside, and I feel sure of it. And as weeks passed by, the peas became yellow, and the shell became yellow. All the world is turning yellow, I suppose, said they, and perhaps they were right. Suddenly they felt a pole at the shell. It was torn off and held in human hands, then slipped into the pocket of a jacket in company with other full pods. Now we shall soon be opened, said one, just what they all wanted. I should like to know which of us will travel farthest, said the smallest of the five, for we shall soon see now. What is to happen will happen, said the largest pea. Crack went the shell as it burst, and the five peas rolled out into the bright sunshine, there they lay in a child's hand. A little boy was holding them tightly, and said they were fine peas for his pea-shooter, and immediately he put one in and shot it out. Now I am flying out into the wide world, said he, catch me if you can, and he was gone in a moment. I, said the second, intend to fly straight into the sun. That is a shell that lets itself be seen, and it would suit me exactly. And away he went. We will go to sleep wherever we find ourselves, said the two next. We shall still be rolling onwards. And they did, certainly, fall on the floor and roll about before they got into the pea-shooter. But they were put in for all that. We shall go farther than the others, said they. What is to happen will happen, exclaimed the last, as he was shot out of the pea-shooter. And as he spoke, he flew up against an old board under a garret window, and fell into a little crevice, which was almost filled up with moss and soft earth. The moss closed itself around him, and there he lay, a captive indeed, but not unnoticed by God. What is to happen will happen, said he to himself. Within the little garret lived a poor woman, who went out to clean stoves, chop wood into small pieces, and perform such like hard work, for she was strong and industrious. Yet she remained always poor, and at home in the garret lay her only daughter, not quite grown up, and very delicate and weak. For a whole year she had kept to her bed, and it seemed as if she would neither live nor die. She is going to her little sister, said the woman. I had but the two children, and it was not an easy thing to support both of them, but the good God has helped me in my work, and took one of them to himself, and provided for her. Now I would gladly keep the other that was left to me, but I suppose they are not to be separated, and my sick girl will very soon go to her sister above. But the sick girl still remained where she was. Quietly and patiently she lay all the day long while her mother was away from home at her work. Spring came, and one morning early the sun shone brightly through the little window, and threw its rays over the floor of the room, just as the mother was going to her work. The sick girl fixed her gaze on the lowest pane of the window. Mother! she exclaimed, what can that little green thing be that peeps in at the window? It is moving in the wind. The mother stepped to the window and half opened it. Oh! she said, there's actually a little pea which has taken root. It's putting out its green leaves. How could it have gotten into this crack? Well now, here is a little garden for you to amuse yourself with. So the bed of the sick girl was drawn nearer to the window that she might see the budding plant, and the mother went out to her work. Mother! I believe I shall get well! said the sick child in the evening. The sun has shone in here so brightly and warmly today, and the little pea is thriving so well I shall get on better too, and go out into the warm sunshine again. Oh! God grant it! said the mother, but she did not believe it would be so. But she propped up with a little stick the green plant which had given her child such pleasant hopes of life so that it might not be broken by the winds. She tied the piece of string to the window-cell into the upper part of the frame so that the pea-tendrils might twine round it when it shot up. And it did shoot up. Indeed, it might almost be seen to grow from day to day. Now really! Here is a flower coming! said the woman one morning, and now at last she began to encourage the hope that her sick daughter might really recover. She remembered that for some time the child had spoken more cheerfully, and during the last few days she had raised herself up in bed in the morning to look with sparkling eyes at her little garden which contained only a single pea-plant. A week after the invalid sat up for the first time a whole hour, feeling quite happy by the open window in the warm sunshine, while outside grew the little plant, and on it a pink pea blossom in full bloom. The little maiden bent down and gently kissed the delicate leaves. This day was to her like a festival. Our Heavenly Father himself has planted that pea, and made it to grow and flourish and bring joy to you and hope to me, my blessed child, said the happy mother, and she smiled at the flower as if it had been an angel from God. But what became of the other peas? Why, the one who flew out into the wide world and said, Catch me if you can, fell into a gutter on the roof of a house, and ended his travels in the crop of a pigeon. The two lazy ones were carried quite as far, for they were also eaten by pigeons, so they were at least of some use. But the fourth, who had wanted to reach the sun, fell into a sink, and lay there in the dirty water for days and weeks till he had swelled to a great size. I am getting beautifully fat, said the pea. I expect I shall burst at last, and no pea could do more than that, I think. I am the most remarkable of all the five which were in the shell. And the sink confirmed the opinion. But the young maiden stood at the open garret window with sparkling eyes and the rosy hue of health on her cheeks. She folded her thin hands over the pea blossom and thanked God for what he had done. I, said the sink, shall stand up for my pea. End of The Pea Blossom by Hans Christian Anderson The Fur Tree by Hans Christian Anderson This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Joelle Peebles. The Fur Tree by Hans Christian Anderson Far down in the forest where the warm sun and the fresh air made a sweet resting place, grew a pretty little fir tree, and yet it was not happy. It wished so much to be tall like its companions, the pines and furs which grew around it. The sun shone, and the soft air fluttered its leaves, and the little peasant children passed by, prattling merrily, but the fir tree heeded them not. Sometimes the children would bring a large basket of raspberries or strawberries, wreathed on a straw, and seat themselves near the fir tree, and say, Is it not a pretty little tree, which made it feel more unhappy than before? And yet all this, while the tree grew a notch or joint taller every year, for by the number of joints in the stem of a fir tree, we can discover its age. Still, as it grew, it complained, Oh how I wish I were as tall as the other trees, then I would spread out my branches on every side, and my top would overlook the wide world. I should have the birds building their nests on my boughs, and when the wind blew, I should bow with stately dignity like my tall companions. The tree was so discontented that it took no pleasure in the warm sunshine, the birds, or the rosy clouds that floated over it morning and evening. Sometimes, in winter, when the snow lay white and glittering on the ground, a hare would come springing along and jump right over the little tree, and then how mortified it would feel. Two winters passed, and when the third arrived, the tree had grown so tall that the hare was obliged to run around it. Yet it remained unsatisfied, and would exclaim, Oh, if I could but keep on growing tall and old, there is nothing else worth caring for in the world. In the autumn, as usual, the woodcutters came and cut down several of the tallest trees, and the young fir tree, which was now grown to its full height, shuttered as the noble trees fell to the earth with a crash. After the branches were lopped off, the trunks looked so slender and bare that they could scarcely be recognized. Then they were placed upon wagons and drawn by horses out of the forest. Where are they going? What would become of them? The young fir tree wished very much to know, so in the spring, when the swallows and the storks came, it asked, Do you know where those trees were taken? Did you meet them? The swallows knew nothing, but the stork, after a little reflection, nodded his head and said, Yes, I think I do. I met several new ships when I flew from Egypt, and they had fine masts that smelled like fir. I think these must have been the trees. I assure you they were stately, very stately. Oh, how I wish I were tall enough to go on the sea, said the fir tree. What is the sea, and what does it look like? It would take too much time to explain, said the stork, flying quickly away. Rejoice in thy youth, said the sunbeam. Rejoice in thy fresh growth and the young life that is in thee. And the wind kissed the tree, and the dew watered it with tears, but the fir tree regarded them not. Christmastime drew near, and many young trees were cut down, some even smaller and younger than the fir tree who enjoyed neither rest nor peace with longing to leave its forest home. These young trees, which were chosen for their beauty, kept their branches and were also laid on wagons and drawn by horses out of the forest. Where are they going? asked the fir tree. They are not taller than I am. Indeed, one is much less. And why are the branches not cut off? Where are they going? We know, we know, saying the sparrows, we have looked in at the windows of the houses in the town, and we know what is done with them. They are dressed up in the most splendid manner. We have seen them standing in the middle of a warm room and adorned with all sorts of beautiful things, honey cakes, gilded apples, playthings, and many hundreds of wax tapers. And then asked the fir tree, trembling through all its branches, and then what happens? We did not see any more, said the sparrows, but this was enough for us. I wonder whether anything so brilliant will ever happen to me, thought the fir tree. It would be much better than crossing the sea. I long for it almost with pain. Oh, when will Christmas be here? I am now as tall and well-grown as those trees which were taken away last year. Oh, that I were now laid on the wagon, or standing in the warm room, with all that brightness and splendor around me. Something better and more beautiful as to come after, or the trees would not be so decked out. Yes, what follows will be grander and more splendid. What can it be? I am weary with longing. I scarcely know how I feel. Rejoice with us, said the air in the sunlight. Enjoy thine own bright life in the fresh air. But the tree would not rejoice, though it grew taller every day, and winter and summer its dark green foliage might be seen in the forest while passers-by would say, What a beautiful tree. A short time before Christmas, the discontented fir tree was the first to fall, as the axe cut through the stem and divided the pith. The tree fell with a groan to the earth, conscious of pain and faintness and forgetting all its anticipations of happiness. In sorrow at leaving its home in the forest, it knew that it should never again see its dear old companions, the trees, nor the little bushes and many-colored flowers that had grown by its side, perhaps not even the birds. Neither was the journey at all pleasant. The tree first recovered itself while being unpacked in the courtyard of a house with several other trees, and it heard a man say, We only want one, this is the prettiest. Then came two servants in grand livery, and carried the fir tree into a large and beautiful apartment. On the walls hung pictures, and near the great stove stood great china vases with lions on the lids. There were rocking chairs and silken sofas, large tables covered with pictures, books, and playthings, worth a great deal of money. At least the children said so. Then the fir tree was placed in a large tub full of sand, but green bays hung all around it, so that no one could see it was a tub, and it stood on a very handsome carpet. How the fir tree trembled, what was going to happen to him now? Some young ladies came, and the servants helped them to adorn the tree. On one branch they hung little bags cut out of colored paper, and each bag was filled with sweet meats. From other branches hung gilded apples and walnuts, as if they had grown there, and above and all around were hundreds of red, blue, and white tapers, which were fastened on the branches. Dolls, exactly like real babies, were placed under the green leaves. The tree had never seen such things before, and at the very top was fastened a glittering star made of tinsel. Oh, it was very beautiful. This evening they all exclaimed how bright it will be. Oh, that the evening were come, thought the tree, and the tapers lighted. Then I shall know what else is going to happen. Will the trees of the forest come to see me? I wonder if the sparrows will peep in at the windows as they fly. Shall I grow faster here, and keep on all these ornaments summer and winter? But guessing was of very little use. It made his bark ache, and this pain is as bad for a slender fir tree as headache is for us. At last the tapers were lighted, and then what a glistening blaze of light the tree presented. It trembled so with joy in all its branches that one of the candles fell among the green leaves and burnt some of them. Help, help exclaimed the young ladies, but there was no danger, for they quickly extinguished the fire. After this the tree tried not to tremble at all, though the fire frightened him. He was so anxious not to hurt any of the beautiful ornaments, even while their brilliancy dazzled him. And now the folding doors were thrown open, and a troop of children rushed in as if they intended to upset the tree. They were followed more silently by their elders. For a moment the little ones stood silent with astonishment, and then they shouted for joy, till the room rang and they danced merrily round the tree, while one present after another was taken from it. What are they doing? What will happen next? thought the fir. At last the candles burnt down to the branches and were put out, then the children received permission to plunder the tree. Oh how they rushed upon it, till the branches cracked, and had it not been fastened with the glistening star to the ceiling it must have been thrown down. The children then danced about with their pretty toys, and no one noticed the tree, except the children's maid who came and peeped among the branches to see if an apple or a fig had been forgotten. A story, a story, cried the children, pulling a little fat man towards the tree. Now we shall be in the green shade, said the man, as he seated himself under it, and the tree will have the pleasure of hearing also, but I shall only relate one story. What shall it be? Yved Aved, or Humpty Dumpty, who fell downstairs, but soon got up again and at last married a princess. Yved Aved cried some, Humpty Dumpty cried others, and there was a fine shouting and crying out, but the fir tree remained quite still and thought to himself, shall I have anything to do with all this? But he had already amused them as much as they wished. Then the old man told them the story of Humpty Dumpty, how he fell down the stairs and was raised up again and married a princess. And the children clapped their hands and cried, tell another, tell another, for they wanted to hear the story of Yved Aved, but they only had Humpty Dumpty. After this the fir tree became quite silent and thoughtful. Never had the birds in the forest told such tales as Humpty Dumpty, who fell down the stairs and yet married a princess. Ah, yes, so it happens in the world, thought the fir tree. He believed it all because it was related by such a nice man. Ah, well, he thought, who knows, perhaps I may fall down, too, and marry a princess. And he looked forward joyfully to the next evening, expecting to be again decked out with lights and playthings, gold and fruit. Tomorrow I will not tremble, thought he, I will enjoy all my splendor and I shall hear the story of Humpty Dumpty again, and perhaps Yved Aved. And the tree remained quiet and thoughtful all night. In the morning the servants and the housemaid came in. Now, thought the fir, all my splendor is going to begin again. But they dragged him out of the room and upstairs to the garret, and threw him on the floor in a dark corner, where no daylight shone, and there they left him. What does this mean, thought the tree? What am I to do here? I can hear nothing in a place like this. And he had time enough to think, for days and nights passed, and no one came near him. And when at last somebody did come, it was only to put away large boxes in a corner. So the tree was completely hidden from sight, as if it had never existed. It is winter now, thought the tree. The ground is hard and covered with snow, so that people cannot plant me. I shall be sheltered here. I dare say until spring comes. How thoughtful and kind everybody is to me. Still, I wish this place were not so dark, as well as lonely, with not even a little hair to look at. How pleasant it was out in the forest while the snow lay on the ground. When the hair would run by, yes, and jump over me too, although I did not like it then. Oh, it is terrible lonely here. Squeak, squeak, said a little mouse, creeping cautiously towards the tree. Then came another, and they both sniffed at the fir tree and crept between the branches. Oh, it is very cold, said the little mouse, or else we should be so comfortable here. Shouldn't we, you old fir tree? I am not old, said the fir tree. There are many who are older than I am. Where do you come from, and what do you know, asked the mice, who are full of curiosity. Have you seen the most beautiful places in the world, and can you tell us all about them? And have you been in the storeroom, where cheeses lie on the shelf, and hams hang from the ceiling? One can run about on tallow-candles there, and go in thin and come out fat. I know nothing of that place, said the fir tree, but I know the wood where the sun shines and the birds sing. And then the tree told the little mice all about its youth. They had never heard such an account in their lives, and after they had listened to it attentively, they said, What a number of things you have seen. You must have been very happy. Happy, exclaimed the fir tree. And then, as he reflected upon what he had been telling them, he said, Ah, yes, after all those were happy days. But when he went on and related all about Christmas Eve, and how he had been dressed up with cakes and lights, the mice said, How happy you must have been, you old fir tree. I am not old at all, replied the tree. I only came from the forest this winter. I am now checked in my growth. What splendid stories you can relate, said the little mice. And the next night four other mice came with them to hear what the tree had to tell. The more he talked, the more he remembered, and then he thought to himself, Those were happy days. But they may come again. Humpty-dumpty fell downstairs, and yet he married the princess. Perhaps I may marry a princess too. And the fir tree thought of the pretty little birch tree that grew in the forest, which was to him a real beautiful princess. Who is Humpty-dumpty? asked the little mice. And then the tree related the whole story. He could remember every single word, and the little mice was so delighted with it that they were ready to jump to the top of the tree. The next night a great many more mice made their appearance, and on Sunday two rats came with them. But they said it was not a pretty story at all, and the little mice were very sorry, for it made them also think less of it. Do you know only one story, asked the rats? Only one replied the fir tree. I heard it on the happiest evening of my life, but I did not know I was so happy at the time. We think it is a very miserable story, said the rats. Don't you know any story about bacon or tallow in the storeroom? No, replied the tree. Many thanks to you then, replied the rats, and they marched off. The little mice also kept away after this, and the tree sighed and said, It was very pleasant when the merry little mice sat round me and listened while I talked. Now that is all past too. However, I shall consider myself happy when someone comes to take me out of this place. But would this ever happen? Yes. One morning people came to clear out the garret. The boxes were packed away, and the tree was pulled out of the corner and thrown roughly on the garret floor. Then the servant dragged it out upon the staircase where the daylight shone. Now life is beginning again, said the tree, rejoicing in the sunshine and fresh air. Then it was carried downstairs and taken into the courtyard so quickly that it forgot to think of itself and could only look about. There was so much to be seen. The court was close to a garden where everything looked blooming. Fresh and fragrant roses hung over the little palings. The linden trees were in blossom, while the swallows flew here and there, crying, Twit, twit, twit, my mate is coming. But it was not the fir tree, they meant. Now I shall live, cried the tree, joyfully spreading out its branches, but alas they were all withered in yellow, and it lay in a corner amongst weeds and nettles. The star of gold paper still stuck in the top of the tree and glittered in the sunshine. In the same courtyard two of the merry children were playing who had danced round the tree at Christmas and had been so happy. The youngest saw the gilded star and ran and pulled it off the tree. Look what is sticking to the ugly old fir tree, said the child, treading on the branches till they crackled under his boots. And the tree saw all the fresh bright flowers in the garden, and then looked at itself and wished it had remained in the dark corner of the garret. It thought of its fresh youth in the forest, of the merry Christmas evening, and of the little mice who had listened to the story of Humpty Dumpty. Past, past, said the old tree, oh had I but enjoyed myself while I could have done so, but now it is too late. Then a lad came and chopped the tree into small pieces till a large bundle lay in a heap on the ground. The pieces were placed in a fire under the copper, and they quickly blazed up brightly, while the tree sighed so deeply that each sigh was like a pistol-shot. Then the children who were at play came and seated themselves in front of the fire and looked at it and cried, Pop, Pop! But at each Pop, which was a deep sigh, the tree was thinking of a summer day in the forest, and of Christmas evening, and of Humpty Dumpty, the only story it had ever heard or knew how to relate, till at last it was consumed. The boy still played in the garden, and the youngest wore the golden star in his breast, with which the tree had been adorned during the happiest evening of its existence. Now all was past, the tree's life was past, and the story also, for all stories must come to an end at last. End of The Fur Tree by Hans Christian Andersen Recording by Joelle Peebles While the old man does is always right by Hans Christian Andersen. This is the LibriVox Recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Bart Tillieu While the old man does is always right by Hans Christian Andersen. Translator unknown. I will tell you a story that was told me when I was a little boy. Every time I thought of this story it seemed to me more and more charming, for it is with stories as it is with many people. They become better as they grow older. I have no doubt that you have been in the country and seen a very old farmhouse with a thatched roof and mosses and small plants growing wild upon it. There is a stork's nest on the ridge of the gable, for we cannot do without the stork. The walls of the house are sloping and the windows are low, and only one of the letter is made to open. The baking oven sticks out of the wall like a great knob. An elder tree hangs over the palings and beneath its branches at the foot of the paling is a pool of water in which a few ducks are desporting themselves. There is a yard dog too who barks at all corners. Just such a farmhouse as this stood in a country lane and it dwelled an old couple, a peasant and his wife. Small as their possessions were, they had one article they could not do without, and that was a horse, which contrived to live upon the grass which is found by the side of the high road. The old peasant rode into the town upon this horse and his neighbors often borrowed it of him and paid for the loan of it by rendering some service to the old couple. After a time they thought it would be as well to sell the horse or exchange it for something which might be more useful to them. But what might this something be? You'll know best, old man, said the wife. It is fair day today, so ride into town and get rid of the horse for money or make a good exchange. Whichever you do will be right to me. So, ride to the fair. And she fastened his neckerchief for him, for she could do that better than he could and she could also tie it very prettily in a double bow. She also smoothed his head round and round with the pulp of her hand and gave him a kiss. Then he rode away upon the horse that was to be sold or bartered for something else. Yes, the old man knew what he was about. The sun shone with great heat and not a cloud was to be seen in the sky. The road was very dusty for a number of people all going to the fair were driving, riding or walking upon it. There was no shelter anywhere from the hot sunshine. Among the rest a man came trudging along and driving a cow to the fair. The cow was as beautiful a creature as any cow could be. She gives good milk, I'm certain, said the person to himself. That would be a very good exchange, the cow for the horse. Hello there, you with the cow, he said. I tell you what, I dare say a horse is of more value than a cow but I don't care for that, a cow will be more useful to me. So, if you like, we'll exchange. To be sure I will, said the man. Accordingly the exchange was made and as the matter was settled the peasants might have turned back for he had done the business he came to do. But having made up his mind to go to the fair he determined to do so if only to have a look at it. So on he went to the town with his cow. Leading the animal he strode on sturdily and after a short time overtook a man who was driving a sheep. It was a good fat sheep with a fine fleece on its back. I would like to have that fellow, said the peasant to himself. There is plenty of grass for him by our palings and in the winter we could keep him in the room with us. Perhaps it would be more profitable to have a sheep than a cow. Shall I exchange? The man with the sheep was quite ready and the bargain was quickly made and then our peasant continued his way on the high road with his sheep. Soon after this he overtook another man who had come into the road from a field and was carrying a large goose under his arm. What a heavy creature you have there, said the peasant. It has plenty of feathers and plenty of fat and would look well tied to a string or paddling in the water at our place. That would be very useful to my old woman. She could make all sorts of profits out of it. How often she has said if now we only had a goose. Now here is an opportunity and if possible I will get it for her. Shall we exchange? I will give you my sheep for your goose and thanks into the bargain. The other had not the least objection and accordingly the exchange was made and our peasant became the possessor of the goose. By this time he had arrived very near the town. The crowd on the high road had been gradually increasing and there was quite a rush of men and cattle. The cattle walked on the path and by the palings and at the turnpike gate they even walked into the tall keepers potato field where one fowl was strutting about with his string tied to its leg for fear it should take fright at the crowd and run away and get lost. The tail feathers of the fowl were very short and it winked with both its eyes and looked very cunning as it said cluck cluck. What were the thoughts of the fowl as it said this? I cannot tell you but directly our good man saw it. He thought why that's the finest fowl I ever saw in my life. It's finer than our parson's brathen upon my words. I should like to have that fowl. Fowls can always pick up a few grains and lie about and almost keep themselves. I think it would be a good exchange if I could get it for my goose. Shall we exchange? He asked the tall keeper. Exchange, repeated the man. Well, it would not be a bad thing. And so they made an exchange. The tall keeper at the turnpike gate kept the goose and the peasant carried out the fowl. Now he had really done a great deal of business on his way to the fair and he was hot and tired. He wanted something to eat and a glass of ill to refresh himself. So he turned his step to an inn. He was just about to enter when the osler came out and they met at the door. The osler was carrying a sack. What have you in that sack? Asked the peasant. Rotten apples answered the osler a whole sack full of them. They were due to feed the pigs with. Why? That will be terrible waste, he replied. I should like to take them home to my old woman. Last year the old apple tree by the grass plot only bore one apple and we kept it in the cupboard till it was quite withered and rotten. It was always property, my old woman said. And here she would see a great deal of property, a whole sack full. To show them to her. What will you give me for the sack full? Asked the osler. What will I give? Well, I will give you my fowl in exchange. So he gave him the fowl and received the apples which he carried into the inn parlor. He leaned the sack carefully against the stove and then went to the table. But the stove was hot and he had not thought of that. Many guests were present. Horse dealers, cattle-drovers and two Englishmen. The Englishmen were so rich that their pockets quite bulged out and seemed ready to burst. And they could bet too, as you shall hear. His sis. What could that be by the stove? The apples were beginning to roast. What is that? Asked one. Why do you know, said our peasant and then he told them the whole story of the horse which he had exchanged for a cow and all the rest of it down to the apples. Well, the old woman will give it you well when you get home, said one of the Englishmen. Won't there be a noise? What? Give me what? said the peasant. Why? She will kiss me and say what the old man does is always right. Let us lay a wager on it, said the Englishmen. We'll wager you a ton of coin gold a hundred pounds to the hundred weights. No. A bushel will be enough, replied the peasant. I can only set a bushel of apples against it and I'll throw myself and my old woman into the parking. That will pile up the measure, I fancy. Done. Taken. And so the bet was made. Then the landlord's coach came to the door and the two Englishmen got in and away they drove and soon arrived and stopped at the peasant's hut. Good evening, old woman. Good evening, old man. I've made the exchange. Ah, well, you understand what you're about, said the woman and she embraced him and paid no attention to the strangers nor did she notice the sack. I got a cow in exchange for the horse. Thank heaven, said she. Now we shall have plenty of milk and butter and cheese on the table. That was a capital exchange. Yes, but I changed the cow for a sheep. Ah, better still kind the wife. You always think of everything. We have just enough pasture for a sheep. You with milk and cheese, wooden jackets and stockings. The cow could not give all these and her hair only falls off. How you think of everything. But I changed the way the sheep for a goose. Then we shall have roast goose to eat this year. You dear old man, you are always thinking of something to please me. This is delightful. We can let the goose walk about with a string tied to her leg so she will be fetters still before we roast her. But I gave away the goose a fowl. Well, that was a good exchange, replied the woman. The fowl will lay eggs and hatch them and we shall have chickens. We shall soon have a poultry yard. Oh, this is just what I was wishing for. Yes, but I exchanged the fowl for a sack of shriveled apples. What? I really must give you a kiss for that, exclaimed the wife. My dear good husband, now I'll tell you something. Do you know? Almost as soon as you left me this morning I began to think of what I could give you nice for supper this evening and then I thought of fried eggs and bacon with sweet herbs. I had eggs and bacon, but I wanted the herbs so I went over to the school masters. I knew they had plenty of herbs but the school mistress is very mean although she can smile so sweetly. I begged her to lend me a handful of herbs. Lend, she exclaimed. I have nothing to lend. Nothing at all grows in our garden. Not even a shriveled apple. I could not even lend you a shriveled apple, my dear woman. But now I can lend her ten or a whole sack full which I'm very glad of. It makes me love to think about it and then she gave him a hearty kiss. Well, I like all this, said both the Englishman. Always going down the hill and yet always merry. It's worth the money to see it. So they paid a hundred weight of gold to the peasants who, whatever he did was not scolded, but kissed. Yes, it always pays best when the wife sees and maintains that her husband knows best and whatever he does is right. That is a story which I heard when I was a child and now you have heard it too. And know that what the old man does is always right. And of what the old man does is always right by Hans Christian Andersen. The Butterfly by Hans Christian Andersen. This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Butterfly by Hans Christian Andersen. There was once a butterfly who wished for a bride and, as may be supposed, he wanted to choose a very pretty one from among the flowers. He glanced with a very critical eye at all the flower beds and found that the flowers were seated quietly and demurely on their stalks. Just as maidens should sit before they are engaged. But there was a great number of them and it appeared as if his search would become very verisome. The Butterfly did not like to take too much trouble so he flew off on a visit to the daisies. The French call this flower margarite and they say that the little daisy can prophesy. Lovers pluck off the leaves and as they pluck each leaf they ask a question about their lovers. Thus does he or she love me ardently, distractedly, very much, a little, not at all and so on. Everyone speaks these words in his own language. The Butterfly came also to margarite to inquire but he did not pluck off her leaves. He pressed a kiss on each of them for he thought there was always more to be done by kindness. Darling Margarite daisy he said to her, you are the wisest woman of all the flowers. Pray tell me which of the flowers I shall choose for my wife which will be my pride. When I know I will fly directly to her and propose. But Margarite did not answer him. She was offended that he should call her a woman when she was only a girl and there is a great difference. He asked her a second time and then a third but she remained dumb and answered not a word. Then he would wait no longer but flew away to commence his wooing at once. In the early spring when the crocus and the snow drop were in full bloom they are very pretty thought the butterfly charming little lasses but they are rather formal. Then as the young lads often do he looked out for the elder girls. He next flew to the anemones these were rather sore to his taste the violet a little too gentle. The lime blossom too small and besides there was such a large family of them. The apple blossom though they looked like roses bloomed to day but might fall off tomorrow with the first wind that blew and he thought that a marriage with one of them might be last too short a time. The pea blossom pleased him most of all. It was bright and red graceful and slender and belonged to those domestic maidens who have a pretty appearance and can yet be useful in the kitchen. He was just about to make her an offer when close by the maiden he saw a pot with a withered flower hanging at the end. Who is that? he asked. That is my sister indeed. And you will be like her some day he said and he flew away directly for he felt quite shocked. A honeysuckle hung forth from the hatch in full bloom but there were so many girls like her with long faces and swallow complexions. No, he did not like her but which one did he like? Spring went by and summer drew towards its close. Autumn came but he had not decided. The flowers now appeared in their most gorgeous robes but all in vain. They had not the fresh fragrant air of youth. For the heart asks for fragrance even when it is no longer young and there is very little of that to be found in the dahlias or the dry chrysanthemums. Therefore the butterfly turned to the mint on the ground. You know, this plant has no blossom but it is sweetness all over full of fragrance from head to foot with the scant of a flower in every leaf. I will take her said the butterfly and he made her an offer but the mint stood silent and stiff as she listened to him at last she said friendship, if you please nothing more I am old and you are old but we may live for each other just the same as to marrying no, don't let us appear ridiculous at our age and so it happened that the butterfly got no wife at all he had been too long choosing which is always a bad plan and the butterfly became what is called an old bachelor it was late in autumn with rainy and cloudy weather the cold wind blew over the boat backs of the willows so that they creaked again it was not the weather of flying about in summer clothes but fortunately the butterfly was not out in it he had got a shelter by chance it was in a room heated by a stove and as warm as the summer he could exist there he said well enough but it is not enough merely to exist, said he I need freedom sunshine and a little flower for companion then he flew against the window pane and was seen and admired by those in the room and stuck him on a pin and in a box of curiosities they could not do more for him now I am perched on the stark like the flowers, said the butterfly it is not very pleasant, certainly I should imagine it is something like being married for here I am stuck fast and with this sword I am myself a little that seems very poor consolation said one of the plants in the room that grew in a pot ah thought the butterfly one can't very well trust these plants in pots they have too much to do with mankind end of the butterfly by Hans Christian Andersen read by Hocus Pocus