 The Saucy Boy 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. Recording by Miriam Esther Goldman. The Saucy Boy by Hans Christian Andersen. Translated by H.P. Paul. Once upon a time, there was an old poet, one of those right good old poets. One evening, as he was sitting at home, there was a terrible storm going on outside. The rain was pouring down, but the old poet sat comfortably in his chimney corner, where the fire was burning and the apples were roasting. There will be not a dry thread left on the poor people who are out in this weather, he said. Oh, open the door! I am so cold and wet through! Called a little child outside, it was crying and knocking at the door, whilst the rain was pouring down and the wind was rattling all the windows. Poor creature, said the poet, and got up and opened the door. Before him stood a little boy. He was naked, and the water flowed from his long, fair locks. He was shivering with cold. If he had not been let in, he would certainly have perished in the storm. Poor little thing, said the poet, and took him by the hand. Come to me, I will soon warm you. You shall have some wine and an apple, for you are such a pretty boy. And he was, too. His eyes sparkled like two bright stars, and although the water flowed down from his fair locks, they still curled quite beautifully. He looked like a little angel, but was pale with cold and trembling all over. In his hand he held a splendid bow, but it had been entirely spoilt by the rain, and the colours of the pretty arrows had run into one another by getting wet. The old man sat down by the fire, and taking the little boy on his knee wrung the water out of his locks and warmed his hands in his own. He then made him some hot, spiced wine which quickly revived him, so that with reddening cheeks he sprang upon the floor and danced around the old man. You are a merry boy, said the latter. What is your name? My name is Cupid, he answered. Don't you know me? There lies my bow. I shoot with that, you know. Look, the weather is getting fine again, the moon is shining. But your bow is spoilt, said the old poet. That would be unfortunate, said the little boy, taking it up and looking at it. Oh, it's quite dry and isn't damaged at all. The string is quite tight. I'll try it. So, drawing it back, he took an arrow, aimed, and shot the good old poet right in the heart. Do you see now that my bow is not spoiled? He said, and, loudly laughing, ran away. What a naughty boy to shoot the old poet like that, who had taken him into his warm room, had been so good to him, and had given him the nicest wine and the best apple. The good old man lay upon the floor crying. He was really shot in the heart. Oh! he cried. What a naughty boy this Cupid is. I shall tell all the good children about this, so that they take care never to play with him, lest he hurt them. And all good children, both girls and boys whom he told about this, were on their guard against wicked Cupid. But he deceives them all the same, for he is very deep. When the students come out of class, he walks beside them with a book under his arm, and wearing a black coat. They cannot recognize him. And then, if they take him by the arm, believing him to be a student too, he sticks an arrow into their chest. And when the girls go to church to be confirmed, he is amongst them too. In fact, he is always after people. He sits in the large chandelier in the theater, and blazes away, so that people think it is a lamp. But they soon find out their mistake. He walks about in the castle garden, and on the promenades. Yes, once he shot your father and your mother in the heart too. Just ask them, and you will hear what they say. Oh, he is a bad boy, this Cupid. And you must never have anything to do with him, for he is after everyone. Just think, he even shot an arrow at old grandmother, but that was a long time ago. The wound has long been healed, but such things are never forgotten. Now you know what a bad boy this wicked Cupid is. Great Klaus and Little Klaus by Hans Christian Andersen Translated by H. W. Delken, Ph.D. The whole week through Little Klaus was obliged to plow for Great Klaus, and to lend him his one horse. Then Great Klaus helped him out with all his four, but only once a week, and that on a holiday. Hurrah! How Little Klaus smacked his whip over all five horses, for they were as good as his own on that one day. The sun shone gaily, and all the bells and the steeples were ringing. The people were all dressed in their best, and were going to church, with their hymn-books under their arms, to hear the clergyman preach. And they saw Little Klaus plowing with five horses, but he was so merry that he smacked his whip again and again, and cried, Gee up all my five! You must not talk so, said Great Klaus, for only one horse is yours. But when no one was passing, Little Klaus forgot that he was not to say this, and he cried, Gee up all my horses! Now I must beg of you to let that alone, cried Great Klaus, for if you say it again I shall hitch your horse on the head so that it will fall down dead, and then it will be all over with him. I will certainly not say it any more, said Little Klaus. But when people came by soon afterwards, and nodded good day to him, he became very glad, and thought it looked very well after all that he had five horses to plow his field. And so he smacked his whip again, and cried, Gee up all my horses! I'll Gee up your horses! said Great Klaus, and he took the hatchet and hit the only horse of Little Klaus on the head so that it fell down and was dead immediately. Oh, now I haven't any horse at all, said Little Klaus, and began to cry. Then he flayed the horse and let the hide dry in the wind, and put it in a sack and hung it over his shoulder, and went to the town to sell his horse's skin. He had a very long way to go, and was obliged to pass through a great dark wood, and the weather became dreadfully bad. He went quite astray, and before he got into the right way again it was evening, and it was too far to get home again or even to the town before nightfall. Close by the road stood a large farmhouse. The shutters were closed outside the windows, but the light could still be seen shining out over them. I may be able to get leave to stop here through the night, thought Little Klaus, and he went and knocked. The farmer's wife opened the door, but when she heard what he wanted she told him to go away, declaring that her husband was not at home and she would not receive strangers. Then I shall have to lie outside, said Little Klaus, and the farmer's wife shut the door in his face. Close by stood a great haystack, and between this and the farmhouse was a little outhouse thatched with straw. Up there I can lie, said Little Klaus, when he looked up at the roof. That is a capital bed. I suppose the stork won't fly down and bite me in the legs, for a living stork was standing on the roof where he had his nest. Now Little Klaus climbed up to the roof of the shed where he lay, and turned round to settle himself comfortably. The wooden shutters did not cover the windows at the top, and he could look straight into the room. There was a great table with the cloth laid, and wine, and roast meat, and a glorious fish upon it. The farmer's wife and the clerk were seated at the table, and nobody besides. She was filling his glass, and he was digging his fork into the fish, for that was his favorite dish. If one could only get some too, thought Little Klaus, as he stretched out his head towards the window. Heavens, what a glorious cake he saw standing there! Yes, certainly that was a feast. Now he heard someone riding along the high-road. It was the woman's husband who was coming home. He was a good man enough, but he had the strange peculiarity that he could never bear to see a clerk. If a clerk appeared before his eyes he became quite wild, and that was the reason why the clerk had gone to the wife to wish her good day, because he knew that her husband was not at home, and the good woman therefore put the best fare she had before him. But when they heard the man coming they were frightened, and the woman begged the clerk to creep into a great empty chest which stood there, and he did so, for he knew the husband could not bear the sight of a clerk. The woman quickly hid all the excellent meat and wine in her baking oven, for if the man had seen that he would have been certain to ask what it meant. Ah, yes, sighed Little Klaus up in his shed when he saw all the good fare put away. Is there anyone up there? asked the farmer, and he looked up at Little Klaus. Who are you lying there? Better come with me into the room! And Little Klaus told him how he had lost his way and asked Leave to stay there for the night. Yes, certainly, said the peasant, but first we must have something to live on. The woman received them both in a very friendly way, spread the cloth on the long table, and gave them a great dish of porridge. The farmer was hungry and ate with a good appetite, but Little Klaus could not help thinking of the capital roast meat, fish, and cake which he knew were in the oven. Under the table at his feet he had laid the sack with a horse's hide in it, for we know that he had come out to sell it in the town. He could not relish the porridge, so he trod upon the sack, and the dry skin inside crackled quite loudly. Why, what have you in your sack? asked the farmer. Oh, that's a magician! answered Little Klaus. He says we are not to eat porridge, for he has conjured the oven full of roast meat, fish, and cake. Wonderful! cried the farmer, and he opened the oven in a hurry and found all the dainty provisions which his wife had hidden there, but which, as he thought, the wizard had conjured forth. The woman dared not say anything, but put the things at once on the table, and so they both ate of the meat, the fish, and the cake. Now Little Klaus again trod on his sack, and made the hide-creek. What does he say now? said the farmer. He says, replied Klaus, that he has conjured three bottles of wine for us, too, and that they are standing there in the corner behind the oven. Now the woman was obliged to bring out the wine, which she had hidden, and the farmer drank it and became very merry. He would have been very glad to see such a conjurer as Little Klaus had there in the sack. Can he conjure the demon forth? asked the farmer. I should like to see him, for now I am merry. Oh, yes, said Little Klaus. My conjurer can do anything that I ask of him. Can you not? he added, and trod on the hide, so that it crackled. He says yes, but the demon is very ugly to look at. We had better not see him. Oh, I'm not at all afraid. Pray, what will he look like? Why, he'll look the very image of a clerk. Ah! said the farmer, that is ugly. You must know I can't bear the sight of a clerk. But it doesn't matter now, for I know that he's a demon, so I shall easily stand it. Now I have courage, but he must not come too near me. Now I will ask my conjurer, said Little Klaus, and he trod on the sack and held his ear down. What does he say? He says you may go and open the chest that stands in the corner, and you will see the demon crouching in it. But you must hold the lid so that it doesn't slip out. Will you help me to hold him? asked the farmer. And he went to the chest where the wife had hidden the real clerk, who sat in there and was very much afraid. The farmer opened the lid a little way and peeped in underneath. Ah! he cried and sprang backward. Yes, now I've seen him, and he looked exactly like our clerk. Oh! that was dreadful. Upon this they must drink, so they sat and drank until late into the night. You must sell me that conjurer, said the farmer. Ask as much as you like for him. I'll give you a whole bushel of money directly. No, that I can't do, said Little Klaus. I can only think how much use I can make of this conjurer. Oh! I should so much like to have him! cried the farmer, and he went on begging. Well, said Little Klaus at last, as you have been so kind as to give me shelter for the night, I will let it be so. You shall have the conjurer for a bushel of money, but I must have the bushel heaped up. That you shall have! replied the farmer. But you must take the chest yonder away with you. I will not keep it in my house an hour. One cannot know. Perhaps he may be there still. Little Klaus gave the farmer his sack with a dry hide in it, and got in exchange a whole bushel of money, and that heaped up. The farmer also gave him a big truck on which to carry off his money and chest. Farewell, said Little Klaus, and he went off with his money and the big chest in which the clerk was still sitting. On the other side of the wood was a great deep river. The water rushed along so rapidly that one could scarcely swim against the stream. A fine new bridge had been built over it. Little Klaus stopped on the center of the bridge and said quite loud so that the clerk could hear it. What shall I do with this stupid chest? It's as heavy as if stones were in it. I shall only get tired if I drag it any further, so I'll throw it into the river. If it swims home to me well and good, and if it does not, it will be no great matter. And he took the chest with one hand and lifted it up a little as if he intended to throw it into the river. No, let be! cried the clerk from within the chest. Let me out first! Huh! exclaimed Little Klaus, pretending to be frightened. He's in there still. I must make haste and throw him into the river that he may be drowned. Oh, no, no! screamed the clerk. I'll give you a whole bushelful of money if you'll let me go. Why, that's another thing, said the little Klaus, and he opened the chest. The clerk crept quickly out, pushed the empty chest into the water and went to his house, where Little Klaus received a whole bushelful of money. He had already received one from the farmer, and so now he had his truck loaded with money. See, I've been well-paid for the horse, he said to himself when he had got home to his own room, and was emptying all the money into a heap in the middle of the floor. That will vex great Klaus when he hears how rich I have grown through my one horse, but I won't tell him about it outright. So he sent a boy to great Klaus to ask for a bushel-measure. What can he want with it? thought great Klaus, and he smeared some tar underneath the measure so that some part of whatever was measured should stick to it. And thus it happened, for when he received the measure back there were three new eight-chilling pieces adhering thereto. What's this? cried great Klaus, and he ran off at once to Little Klaus. Where did you get all that money from? Oh, that's from my horse's skin. I sold it yesterday evening. That's really being well-paid, said great Klaus, and he ran home in a hurry, took an axe, and killed all his four horses. Then he flayed them and carried off their skins to the town. Hides, hides, who'll buy any hides? He cried through the streets. All the shoemakers and tanners came running and asked how much he wanted for them. A bushel of money for each, said great Klaus. Are you mad? said they. Do you think we have money by the bushel? Hides, hides! He cried again, and to all who asked him what the hides would cost, he replied, a bushel of money. He wants to make fools of us, they all exclaimed, and the shoemakers took their straps and the tanners their aprons, and they began to beat great Klaus. Hides, hides! they called after him jeeringly. Yes, we'll tann your hide for you till the red broth runs down, out of the town with him. And great Klaus made the best haste he could, for he had never yet been thrashed as he was thrashed now. Well, said he when he got home, little Klaus shall pay for this. I'll kill him for it. Now, at little Klaus's, the old grandmother had died. She had been very harsh and unkind to him, but yet he was very sorry, and took the dead woman and laid her in his warm bed to see if she would not come to life again. There he intended she should remain all through the night, and he himself would sit in the corner and sleep on a chair, as he had often done before. As he sat there in the night, the door opened, and great Klaus came in with his axe. He knew where little Klaus's bed stood, and going straight up to it, he hit the old grandmother on the head, thinking she was little Klaus. What do you see? said he. You shall not make a fool of me again. And then he went home. That's a bad fellow that man, said little Klaus. He wanted to kill me. It was a good thing for my old grandmother that she was dead already. He would have taken her life. And he dressed his grandmother in her Sunday clothes, borrowed a horse of his neighbor, harnessed it to a car, put the old lady on the back seat, so that she could not fall out when he drove. And so they trundled through the wood. When the sun rose they were in front of an inn. There little Klaus pulled up and went in to have some refreshment. The host had very, very much money. He was also a very good man, but exceedingly hot as if he had pepper and tobacco in him. Good morning, said he little Klaus. You've put on your Sunday clothes early today. Yes, answered little Klaus. I'm going to town with my old grandmother. She's sitting there on the car without. I can't bring her into the room. Will you give her a glass of mead? But you must speak very loud, for she can't hear very well. Yes, that I'll do, said the host. And he poured out a great glass of mead and went out with it to the dead grandmother, who had been placed upright in the carriage. Here's a glass of mead from your son. Quoth my host. But the dead woman replied not a word, but sat quite still. Don't you hear? cried the host as loud as he could. Here is a glass of mead from your son. Once more he called out the same thing. But as she persisted in not hearing him, he became angry at last and threw the glass in her face, so that the mead ran down over her nose and she tumbled backward into the car, for she had only been put upright and not bound fast. Hello! cried little Klaus running out at the door and seizing the host by the breast. You've killed my grandmother now. See, there's a big hole in her forehead. Oh, here's a misfortune! cried the host, wringing his hand. That all comes of my hot temper. Dear little Klaus, I'll give you a bushel of money and have your grandmother buried as if she were my own. Only keep quiet, or I shall have my head cut off, and that would be so very disagreeable. So little Klaus again received a whole bushel of money, and the host buried the old grandmother as if she had been his own. And when little Klaus came home with all his money, he at once sent his boy to great Klaus to ask to borrow a bushel-measure. What's that? said great Klaus. Have I not killed him? I must go myself and see to this. And so he went over himself with the bushel to little Klaus. Now, where did you get all that money from? he asked. And he opened his eyes wide when he saw all that had been brought together. You killed my grandmother and not me, replied little Klaus, and I've been and sold her and got a whole bushel of money for her. That's really being well paid, said great Klaus. And he hastened home, took an axe, and killed his own grandmother directly. Then he put her on a carriage and drove off to the town with her to where the apothecary lived, and asked him if he would buy a dead person. Who is it and where did you get him from? asked the apothecary. It's my grandmother," answered great Klaus. I've killed her to get a bushel of money for her. Heaven save us, cried the apothecary. You're raving. Don't say such things or you may lose your head. And he told him earnestly what a bad deed this was that he had done and what a bad man he was and that he must be punished. And great Klaus was so frightened that he jumped out of the surgery straight into his carriage and whipped the horses and drove home. But the apothecary and all the people thought him mad and so they let him drive wither he would. You shall pay for this," said great Klaus when he was out upon the high road. Yes, you shall pay me for this, little Klaus. And directly he got home, he took the biggest sack he could find and went over to little Klaus and said, Now you've tricked me again. First I killed my horses and then my old grandmother. That's all your fault, but you shall never trick me any more. And he seized little Klaus round the body and thrust him into the sack and took him upon his back and called out to him. Now I shall go off with you and drown you. It was a long way that he had to travel before he came to the river and little Klaus was not too light to carry. The road led him close to a church, the organ was playing and the people were singing so beautifully. Then great Klaus put down his sack with little Klaus in it close to the church door and thought it would be a very good thing to go in and hear a psalm before he went further for little Klaus could not get out and all the people were in church and so he went in. Ah, yes, yes, sighed little Klaus in the sack and he turned and twisted but he found it impossible to loosen the cord. Then there came by an old drover with snow-white hair and a great staff in his hand. He was driving a whole herd of cows and oxen before him and they stumbled against the sack in which little Klaus was confined so that it was overthrown. Oh dear, sighed little Klaus, I'm so young yet and I'm to go to heaven directly. And I, poor fellow, said the drover, I am so old already and I can't get there yet. Open the sack, cried little Klaus, creep into it instead of me and you will get to heaven directly. With all my heart, replied the drover, and he untied the sack out of which little Klaus crept forth immediately. But will you look after the cattle, said the old man, and he crept into the sack at once whereupon little Klaus tied it up and went his way with all the cows and oxen. Soon afterwards great Klaus came out of the church. He took the sack on his shoulders again although it seemed to him as if the sack had become lighter for the old drover was only half as heavy as little Klaus. How light he is to carry now. Yes, that is because I've heard a psalm. So he went to the river which was deep and broad, threw the sack with the old drover in it into the water and called after him thinking that it was little Klaus. You lie there. Now you shan't trick me any more. Then he went home. But when he came to a place where there was a cross-road he met little Klaus driving all his beasts. What's this? cried great Klaus. Have I not drowned you? Yes, replied little Klaus. You threw me into the river less than half an hour ago. But wherever did you get all those fine beasts from? asked great Klaus. These beasts are sea cattle, replied little Klaus. I'll tell you the whole story and thank you for drowning me. For now I'm at the top of the tree. I am really rich. How frightened I was when I lay huddled in the sack and the wind whistled about my ears when you threw me down from the bridge into the cold water. I sank to the bottom immediately but I did not knock myself for the most splendid soft grass grows down there. Upon that I fell and immediately the sack was opened and the loveliest maiden with snow-white garments and a green wreath upon her wet hair took me by the hand and said, Are you come, little Klaus? Here you have some cattle to begin with. A mile farther along the road there is a whole herd more which I will give to you. And now I saw that the river formed a great highway for the people of the sea. Down in its bed they walked and drove directly from the sea and straight into the land to where the river ends. Then it was so beautifully full of flowers and of the freshest grass. The fishes which swam in the water shot past my ears just as hear the birds in the air. What pretty people there were there and what fine cattle pasturing on mounds and in ditches. But why did you come up again to us directly, ask, great Klaus? I should not have done that if it is so beautiful down there. Why, replied little Klaus, in that I just acted with good policy, you heard me tell you that the sea maiden said, A mile farther along the road and by the road she meant the river or she can't go anywhere else. There's a whole herd of cattle for you but I know what bends the stream makes sometimes this way, sometimes that. There's a long way to go round. No, the thing can be managed in a shorter way by coming here to the land and driving across the fields towards the river again. In this manner I save myself almost half a mile and get all the quicker to my sea cattle. Oh, you are a fortunate man, said great Klaus. Do you think I should get some sea cattle too if I went down to the bottom of the river? Yes, I think so, replied little Klaus. But I cannot carry you in the sack as far as the river. You are too heavy for me. But if you will go there and creep into the sack yourself I will throw you in with a great deal of pleasure. Thanks, said great Klaus. But if I don't get any sea cattle when I am down there I shall beat you, you may be sure. Oh, no, don't be so fierce. And so they went together to the river. When the beasts which were thirsty saw the stream they ran as fast as they could to get at the water. See how they hurry, cried little Klaus. They are longing to get back to the bottom. Yes, but help me first, said great Klaus, or else you shall be beaten. And so he crept into the great sack which had been laid across the back of one of the oxen. Put a stone in it, for I am afraid I shan't sink else, said great Klaus. That can be done, replied little Klaus, and he put a big stone into the sack, tied the rope tightly and pushed against it. There lay great Klaus in the river and sank at once to the bottom. I am afraid he won't find the cattle, said little Klaus, and then he drove homeward with what he had. End of Great Klaus and Little Klaus by Hans Christian Andersen. Reading by Bologna Times. The Daisy by Hans Christian Andersen. From The Fairy Tales of Hans Christian Andersen. Now listen, and the country, close by the high road, stood a farmhouse. Perhaps you have passed by and seen it yourself. There was a little flower garden with painted wooden palings in front of it. Close by was a ditch. This fresh green bank grew a little Daisy. The sun shone as warmly and brightly upon it as on the magnificent garden flowers, and therefore it thrived well. One morning it had quite opened, and its little snow-white petals stood round the yellow center like the rays of the sun. It did not mind that nobody saw it in the grass, and that it was a poor despised flower. On the contrary, it was quite happy and turned towards the sun, looking upward and listening to the song of the lark high up in the air. The little Daisy was as happy as if the day had been a great holiday, but it was only Monday. All the children were at school, and while they were sitting on the forums and learning their lessons, it sat on its thin green stalk and learned from the sun and from its surroundings how kind God is, and it rejoiced that the song of the little lark expressed so sweetly and distinctly its own feelings. With a sort of reverence, the Daisy looked up to the bird that could fly and sing, but it did not feel envious. I can see and hear, it thought, the sun shines upon me and the forest kisses me how rich I am. In the garden close by drew many large and magnificent flowers and, strange to say, the less fragrance they had, the hotier and prouder they were. The peonies puffed themselves up in order to be larger than the roses, but size is not everything. The tulips had the finest colors and they knew it well, too, for they were standing bolt upright like candles and handles that one might see them the better. In their pride they did not see the little Daisy, which looked over to them and thought, how rich and beautiful they are. I am sure the pretty bird will fly down and call upon them. Thank God that I stand so near and can at least see all the splendor. And while the Daisy was still thinking, the lark came flying down, crying, but not to the peonies and tulips, no, into the grass to the poor Daisy. Its joy was so great that it did not know what to think. The little bird hopped round it and sang, how beautifully soft the grass is and what a lovely little flower with its golden heart and silver dress is growing here. The yellow center in the Daisy did indeed look like gold, while the little petals shown as brightly as silver. How happy the Daisy was! No one has the least idea. The bird kissed it with its beak, sang to it, and then rose again, up to the blue sky. It was certainly more than a quarter of an hour before the Daisy recovered its senses. Half ashamed, yet glad at heart, it looked over to the other flowers in the garden. Surely they had witnessed its pleasure and the honour that had been done to it. They understood its joy, but the tulips stood more stiffly than ever. Their faces were pointed and red because they were vexed. The peonies were sulky. It was well that they could not speak, otherwise they would have given the Daisy a good lecture. The little flower could very well see that they were ill at ease and pitied them sincerely. Shortly after this a girl came into the garden with a large sharp knife. She went to the tulips and began cutting them off, one after another. Ugg! sighed Daisy. That is terrible. Now they are done for. The girl carried the tulips away. The Daisy was glad that it was outside, and only a small flower. It felt very grateful. At sunset it folded its petals and fell asleep and dreamt all night of the sun and the little bird. On the following morning when the flower once more stretched forth its tender petals like little arms towards the air and light the Daisy recognised the bird's voice. But what it sang sounded so sad. Indeed the poor bird had good reason to be sad for it had been caught and put into a cage close by the open window. It sang of the happy days when it could merrily fly about of fresh green corn in the fields and of the time when it could soar almost up to the clouds. The poor lark was most unhappy as a prisoner in a cage. The little Daisy would have liked so much to help it but what could be done? Indeed that was very difficult for such a small flower to find out. It entirely forgot how beautiful everything around it was. How warmly the sun was shining and how splendidly white its own petals were. It could only think of the poor captive bird for which it could do nothing. Then two little boys came out of the garden one of them had a large sharp knife like that with which the girl had cut the tulips. They came straight towards the little Daisy which could not understand what they wanted. Here is a fine piece of turf for the lark said one of the boys and began to cut out a square around the Daisy so that it remained in the center of the grass. Pluck the flower off said the other boy and the Daisy trembled for fear for to be pulled off meant death to it it wished so much to live as it was to go with the square of turf into the poor captive lark's cage. No, let it stay said the other boy it looked so pretty and so it stayed and was brought into the lark's cage the poor bird was lamenting its lost liberty and beating its wings against the wires and the little Daisy could not speak or utter a consoling word much as it would have liked to do so so the forenone passed. I have no water said the captive lark they have all gone out and forgotten to give me anything to drink my throat is dry and burning I feel as if I had fire and ice within me and the air is so oppressive alas I must die and part with the warm sunshine the fresh green meadows all the beauty that God has created and it thrust its beak into the piece of grass to refresh itself a little then it noticed the little Daisy and nodded to it and kissed it with its beak and said you must also fade in here poor little flower you and the piece of grass are all they have given me in exchange for the whole world which I enjoyed outside each little blade of grass a green tree for me each of your white petals a fragrant flower alas you'll only remind me of what I have lost I wish I could console the poor lark thought the Daisy it could not move one of its leaves but the fragrance of its delicate petals stream forth and was much stronger than such flowers usually have the bird noticed it although it was dying with thirst and its pain tore up the green blades of grass but did not touch the flower the evening came and nobody appeared to bring the poor bird a drop of water it opened its beautiful wings and fluttered about and anguished a faint and mournful tweet tweet was all it could utter then it bent its little head towards the flower and its heart broke for want and longing the flower could not as on the previous evening fold up its petals and sleep it dropped sorrowfully the boys only came the next morning when they saw the dead bird they began to cry bitterly dug a nice grave for it and adorned it with flowers the bird's body was placed in a pretty red box they wished to bury it with royal honors while it was alive and sang they forgot it and let it suffer want in the cage now they cried over it and covered it with flowers the piece of turf with the little daisy in it was thrown out on the dusty highway nobody thought of the flower which had felt so much for the bird and had so greatly desired to comfort it End of The Daisy 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 Recording by Elizabeth Klett The Girl Who Trod on the Loaf by Hans Christian Andersen Translated by HP Paul There was once a girl who trod on a loaf to avoid soiling her shoes and the misfortunes that happened to her in consequence are well known her name was Inge she was a poor child but proud and presuming and with a bad and cruel disposition when quite a little child she would delight in catching flies and tearing off their wings so as to make creeping things of them when older she would take cockchafers and beetles and stick pins through them then she pushed a green leaf paper towards their feet and when the poor creatures would seize it and hold it fast and turn over and over in their struggles to get free from the pin she would say the cockchaffer is reading see how he turns over the leaf she grew worse instead of better with years and unfortunately she was pretty which caused her to be excused when she should have been sharply reproved your headstrong will requires severity to conquer it her mother often said to her as a little child used to trample on my apron but one day I fear you will trample on my heart and alas! this fear was realized Inge was taken to the house of some rich people who lived at a distance and who treated her as their own child and dressed her so fine that her pride and arrogance increased when she had been there about a year her patroness said to her you ought to go for once Inge so Inge started to go and visit her parents but she only wanted to show herself in her native place that the people might see how fine she was she reached the entrance of the village and saw the young laboring men and maidens standing together chatting and her own mother amongst them Inge's mother was sitting on a stone to rest with a faggot of sticks lying before her which she had picked up in the wood then Inge turned back she who was so finely dressed she felt ashamed of her mother a poorly clad woman who picked up wood in the forest she did not turn back out of pity for her mother's poverty but from pride another half year went by and her mistress said you ought to go home again and visit your parents Inge and I will give you a large wheat and loaf to take to them they will be glad to see you I am sure so Inge put on her best clothes and her new shoes on her and set out stepping very carefully that she might be clean and neat about the feet and there was nothing wrong in doing so but when she came to the place where the footpath led across the moor she found small pools of water and a great deal of mud so she threw the loaf into the mud and trod upon it that she might pass without wetting her feet but as she stood with one foot on the loaf and the other lifted up to step forward the loaf began to sink under her lower and lower till she disappeared altogether and only a few bubbles on the surface of the muddy pool remained to show where she had sunk and this is the story but where did Inge go? she sang into the ground and went down to the marsh woman who was always brewing there the marsh woman is related to the elf maidens who are well known for songs are sung and pictures painted about them but of the marsh woman nothing is known excepting that when a mist arises from the meadows in summer time it is because she is brewing beneath them to the marsh woman's brewery Inge sunk down to a place which no one can endure for long a heap of mud is a palace compared with the marsh woman's brewery and as Inge fell she shuddered in every limb and soon became cold and stiff as marble her foot was still fastened to the loaf which bowed her down as a golden ear of corn to bend the stem an evil spirit soon took possession of Inge and carried her to a still worse place in which she saw crowds of unhappy people waiting in a state of agony for the gates of mercy to be open to them and in every heart was a miserable and eternal feeling of unrest it would take too much time to describe the various tortures these people suffered but Inge's punishment consisted in standing there as a statue with her foot fastened to the loaf she could move her eyes about and see all the misery about her but she could not turn her head and when she saw the people looking at her she thought they were admiring her pretty face and fine clothes for she was still vain and proud but she had forgotten how soiled her clothes had become while in the marsh woman's brewery and that they were covered with mud a snake had also fastened itself in her hair and hung down her back while from each fold in her dress a great toad peeped out like an asthmatic poodle worse than all was the terrible hunger that tormented her and she could not stoop to break off a piece of the loaf on which she stood no, her back was too stiff and her whole body like a pillar of stone and then came creeping over her face and eyes flies without wings she winked and blinked but they could not fly away for their wings had been pulled off this added to the hunger she felt a horrible torture if this lasts much longer she said I shall not be able to bear it but it did last and she had to bear it without being able to help herself a tear followed by many scalding tears fell upon her head and rolled over her face and neck down to the loaf on which she stood who could be weeping for Inge she had a mother in the world still and the tears of sorrow which a mother sheds on their way to the child's heart but they often increased the torment instead of being a relief and Inge could hear all that was said about her in the world she had left and everyone seemed cruel to her the sin she had committed in treading on the loaf was known on earth for she had been seen by the cowherd from the hill when she was crossing the marsh and had disappeared when her mother wept and exclaimed ah Inge what grief thou hast caused thy mother she would say oh that I had never been born my mother's tears are useless now and then the words of the kind people who had adopted her came to her ears when they said Inge was a sinful girl who did not value the gifts of God but trampled them under her feet ah, thought Inge they should have punished me and driven all my naughty tempers out of me a song was made about the girl who trod on a loaf to keep her shoes from being soiled this song was sung everywhere the story of her sin was also told to the little children had they called her wicked Inge and said she was so naughty that she ought to be punished Inge heard all this and her heart became hardened and full of bitterness but one day while hunger and grief were gnawing in her hollow frame she heard a little innocent child while listening to the tale of the vain, haughty Inge burst into tears and exclaimed but will she never come up again and she heard the reply no, she will never come up again but if she were to say she was sorry and ask pardon and promise never to do so again asked the little one yes, then she might come but she will not beg pardon was the answer oh, I wish she would said the child who was quite unhappy about it I should be so glad I would give up my doll and all my play-things if she could only come here again poor Inge, it is so dreadful for her these pitting words penetrated to Inge's inmost heart and seemed to do her good it was the first time anyone had said poor Inge without saying something about her faults a little innocent child was weeping and praying for mercy for her it made her feel quite strange and she would gladly have wept herself and it added to her torment to find she could not do so and while she thus suffered in a place where nothing changed years passed away on earth and she heard her name less frequently mentioned but one day a sigh reached her and the words Inge Inge, what a grief that has been to me I said it would be so it was the last sigh of her dying mother after this Inge heard her kind mistress say ah, poor Inge shall I ever see thee again perhaps I may for we know not what may happen in the future but Inge knew right well that her mistress would never come to that dreadful place time passed a long bitter time then Inge heard her name pronounced once more and saw what seemed too bright stars shining above her they were two gentle eyes closing on earth many years had passed since the little girl had lamented and wept about poor Inge that child was now an old woman whom God was taking to himself in the last hour of existence her whole life often appeared before us and this hour the old woman remembered how, when a child she had shed tears over the story of Inge and she prayed for her now as the eyes of the old woman closed to earth the eyes of the soul opened upon the hidden things of eternity and then she in whose last thoughts Inge had been so vividly present saw how deeply the poor girl had sunk she burst into tears at the sight and in heaven as she had done a little child on earth she wept and prayed for poor Inge her tears and her prayers echoed through the dark void that surrounded the tormented captive soul and the unexpected mercy was obtained for it through an angel's tears as in thought Inge seemed to act over again every sin she had committed on earth she trembled and tears she had never yet been able to weep rushed to her eyes it seemed impossible that the gates of mercy could ever be open to her she acknowledged this in deep penitence a beam of radiant light shot suddenly into the depths upon her more powerful than the sunbeam that dissolves the man of snow which the children have raised more quickly than the snowflake melts and becomes a drop of water on the warm lips of a child was the stony form of Inge changed and as a little bird she soared with the speed of lightning upward to the world of mortals a bird that felt timid and shy to all things around it seemed to shrink with shame from meeting any living creature and hurriedly sought to conceal itself in a dark corner of an old ruined wall there it sat cowering and unable to utter a sound for it was voiceless yet how quickly the little bird discovered the beauty of everything around it the sweet fresh air the soft radiance of the moon as its light spread over the earth the fragrance which exhaled from bush and tree made it feel happy as it sat there within its fresh bright plumage all creations seemed to speak of beneficence and love the bird wanted to give utterance to thoughts that stirred in his breast as the cuckoo and the nightingale in the spring but it could not yet in heaven can be heard the song of praise even from a worm and the notes trembling in the breast of the bird were as audible to heaven even as the psalms of David before they had fashioned themselves into words and song Christmas time drew near the peasant who dwelt close by the old wall stuck up a pole with some ears of corn fastened to the top that the birds of heaven might have feast and rejoice in the happy blessed time and on Christmas morning the sauna rose and shone upon the ears of corn which were quickly surrounded by a number of twittering birds then from a hole in the wall gushed forth in song the swelling thoughts of the bird as he issued from his hiding place to perform his first good deed on earth and in heaven he was well known who that bird was the winter was very hard the ponds were covered with ice and there was very little food for either the beasts of the field or the birds of the air our little bird flew away into the public roads and found here and there in the ruts of the sledges a grain of corn and at the halting places some crumbs of these he ate only a few but he called around him the other birds and the hungry sparrows that they too might have food founds and looked about and wherever a kind hand had strewed bread on the windowsill for the birds he ate only a single crumb himself and gave all the rest to the rest of the other birds in the course of the winter the bird had in this way collected many crumbs and given them to other birds till they equalled the weight of the loaf on which Inge had trod to keep her shoes clean and when the last bread-crumb had been found and given the gray wings of the bird became white and spread themselves out for flight see yonder is a seagull cried the children when they saw the white bird as it dived into the sea and rose again into the clear sunlight white and glittering but no one could tell whether it went then although some declared it flew straight to the sun and of the girl who trod on the loaf by Hans Christian Anderson The Angel 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 Whenever a good child dies an angel of God comes down from heaven takes the dead child in his arms spreads out his great white wings and flies with him over all the places which the child had loved during his life then he gathers a large handful of flowers which he carries up to the Almighty that they may bloom more brightly in heaven than they do on earth and the Almighty presses the flowers to his heart but he kisses the flower that pleases him best and it receives a voice and is able to join the song of the chorus of bliss these words were spoken by an angel of God as he carried a dead child up to heaven and the child listened as if in a dream then they passed over well-known spots where the little one had often played and through beautiful gardens full of lovely flowers which of these shall we take with us to heaven to be transplanted there asked the angel close by grew a slender beautiful rose bush but some wicked hand had broken the stem and the half-opened rose buds hung faded and withered on the trailing branches poor rose bush said the child let us take it with us to heaven that it may bloom above in God's garden the angel took up the rose bush then he kissed the child and the little one half opened his eyes the angel gathered also some beautiful flowers as well as a few humble buttercups and heartsies now we have flowers enough said the child but the angel only nodded he did not fly up to heaven it was night and quite still in the great town here they remained and the angel hovered over a small narrow street in which lay a large heap of straw ashes and sweepings from the houses of people who had removed there lay fragments of plates pieces of plaster rags old hats and other rubbish not pleasant to see amidst all this confusion the angel pointed to the pieces of a broken flower pot and to a lump of earth which had fallen out of it the earth had been kept from falling to pieces by the roots of a withered field flower which had been thrown amongst the rubbish we will take this with us said the angel I will tell you why as we fly along and as they flew the angel related the history down in that narrow lane in a low cellar lived a poor sick boy he had been afflicted from his childhood and even in his best days he could just manage to walk up and down the room on crutches once or twice but no more during some days in summer the sunbeams would lie on the floor of the cellar for about half an hour in this spot the poor sick boy would sit warming himself in the sunshine and watching the red blood through his delicate fingers as he held them before his face then he would say he had been out yet he knew nothing of the green forest in its spring verger till a neighbour's son brought him a green bow from a beech tree this he would place over his head and fancy that he was in the beech wood while the sun shone and the birds curled gaily one spring day the neighbour's boy brought him some field flowers and among them was one to which the roots still adhered this he carefully planted in a flower pot and placed in a window seat near his bed and the flower had been planted by a fortunate hand for it grew and put forth fresh shoots and blossomed every gear it became a splendid flower garden to the sick boy and his little treasure upon earth he watered it and cherished it and took care it should have the benefit of every sunbeam that found its way into the cellar from the earliest morning ray to the evening sunset the flower entwined itself even in his dreams for him it bloomed for him spread its perfume and flattened his eyes and to the flower he turned even in death when the Lord called him he has been one year with God during that time the flower had stood in the window withered and forgotten till at length cast out among the sweepings into the street on the day of the lodge's removal and this poor flower withered and faded as it is we have added to our nose-gay because it gave more real joy than the most beautiful flower of a queen but how do you know all this asked the child whom the angel was carrying to heaven I know it said the angel because I myself was the poor sick boy who walked upon crutches and I know my own flower well then the child opened his eyes and looked into the glorious happy face of the angel at the same moment they found themselves in that heavenly home where all is happiness and joy and God pressed the dead child to his heart and wings were given him so that he could fly with the angel hand in hand then the Almighty pressed all the flowers to his heart but he kissed the withered field flower and it received a voice then it joined in the song of the angels who surrounded the throne some near and others in a distant circle but all equally happy they all joined in the chorus of praise both great and small the good happy child and the poor field flower that once lay withered and cast away on a heap of rubbish in a narrow dark street end of The Angel by Hans Christian Anderson recording by Linda Ferguson The Buckwheat 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 Linda Ferguson The Buckwheat by Hans Christian Anderson very often after a violent thunderstorm a field of Buckwheat appears blackened and singed as if a flame of fire had passed over it the country people say that this appearance is caused by lightning but I will tell you what the sparrow says and the sparrow heard it from an old willow tree which grew near a field of Buckwheat and is there still it is a large venerable tree though a little crippled by age the trunk has been split and out of the crevice grass and brambles grow the tree bends forward slightly and the branches hang quite down to the ground just like green hair corn grows in the surrounding fields not only rye and barley but oats, pretty oats that when ripe look like a number of little golden canary birds sitting on a bough the corn has a smiling look and the heaviest and richest ears bend their heads low as if in pious humility once there was also a field of Buckwheat and this field was exactly opposite to old willow tree the Buckwheat did not bend like the other grain but erected its head proudly and stiffly on the stem I am as valuable as any other corn said he and I am much handsomer my flowers are as beautiful as the bloom of the apple blossom it's a pleasure to look at us do you know of anything prettier than we are you old willow tree and the willow tree nodded his head as if he would say, indeed I do but the Buckwheat spread itself out with pride and said stupid tree, he is so old that grass grows out of his body there arose a very terrible storm all the field flowers folded their leaves together or bowed their little heads while the storm passed over them the buckwheat stood erect in its pride bend your head as we do said the flowers I have no occasion to do so replied the Buckwheat bend your head as we do cried the ears of corn the angel of the storm is coming his wing spread from the sky above to the earth beneath he will strike you down before you can cry for mercy but I will not bend my head said the Buckwheat close your flowers and bend your leaves said the old willow tree do not look at the lightning when the cloud bursts even men cannot do that in a flash of lightning heaven opens and we can look in but the sight will strike even human beings blind what then must happen to us who only grow out of the earth and are so inferior to them if we venture to do so inferior indeed said the Buckwheat now I intend to have a peep into heaven proudly and boldly he looked up while the lightning flashed across the sky as if the whole world were in flames when the dreadful storm had passed the flowers and the corn raised their drooping heads in the pure still air refreshed by the rain but the Buckwheat lay like a weed in the field burnt blackness by the lightning in a flash of lightning burnt blackness by the lightning the branches of the old willow tree rustled in the wind and large water drops fell from his green leaves as if the old willow were weeping then the sparrows asked why he was weeping when all around him seemed so cheerful see they said how the sun shines the clouds float in the blue sky do not smell the sweet perfume from flower and bush wherefore do you weep old willow tree then the willow told them of the haughty pride of the Buckwheat and of the punishment which followed in consequence this is the story told me by the sparrows one evening when I begged them to relate some tale to me End of The Buckwheat by Hans Christian Anderson Recording by Linda Ferguson The Darling Needle by Hans Christian Anderson This is a LibriVox recording or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information out of volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Darling Needle by Hans Christian Anderson There was once a Darling Needle who thought herself so fine she imagined she was an embroidering needle Take care and mind you hold me tight she said to the fingers that took her out Don't let me fall I fall on the ground I shall certainly never be found again for I'm so fine That says it may be said the fingers and they grasped her around the body See I'm coming with a train said the Darling Needle and she drew a long thread after her but there was no knot in the thread The fingers pointed the needle just at the cook slipper in which the upper leather had burst and was to be sewn together That's vulgar work said the Darling Needle I shall never get through I'm breaking, I'm breaking and she really broke Did I not say so said the Darling Needle I'm too fine Now it's quite useless said the fingers but they were obliged to hold her fast all the same for the cook dropped some sealing wax upon the needle and pinned her handkerchief together with it in front So now I'm a breastpin said the Darling Needle I knew very well that I should come to honour when one is something one comes to something and she laughed quietly to herself and one can never see the Darling Needle laughs There she sat as proud as if she was in a state coach and looked all about her May I be permitted to ask if you are of gold She inquired of the pin her neighbour You have a very pretty appearance and peculiar head but it is only little You must take pains to grow for it's not everyone that has sealing wax on him and the Darling Needle drew herself up so proudly that she fell out of the handkerchief right into the sink which the cook was rinsing out Now we're going on a journey said the Darling Needle if I only don't get lost but she really was lost I'm too fine for this world She observed as she lay in the gutter I know who I am and there's always something in that So the Darling Needle kept her proud behaviour and did not lose her good humour and things of many kind swam over her chips and straws and pieces of old newspapers Only look how they sail said the Darling Needle They don't know what is under them I'm here I've remained firmly here See There was a cheap thinking of nothing in the world but of himself of a cheap There's a straw going by now how he turns how he twirls about Don't think only of yourself You might easily run up against a stone There swims a bit of newspaper What's written upon it has long been forgotten and yet it gives itself airs I sit quietly and patiently here I know who I am and I shall remain what I am One day something lay close beside her that glittered splendidly Then the Darling Needle believed that it was a diamond But it was a bit of broken bottle and because it shone the Darling Needle spoke to it introducing herself as a breastpin I suppose you are a diamond She observed Why yes, something of that kind And then each believed the other to be a very valuable thing and they began speaking about the world and how very conceited it was I have been in a lady's box said the Darling Needle and this lady was a cook She had five fingers on each hand and I never saw anything so conceited as those five fingers and yet they were only there that they might take me out of the box and put me back into it Were they of good birth asked the bit of bottle No, indeed replied the Darling Needle but very hearty there were five brothers all of the finger family they kept very proudly together though they were of different lengths the other five brothers were of different lengths the outermost the thumbling was short and fat he walked out in front of the ranks and only had one joint in his back and could only make a single bow but he said that if he was hacked off a man that man was useless for service in war dainty mount the second finger thrust himself into sweet and sour pointed to sun and moon the impression when they wrote long man, the third looked at all the others over his shoulder gold border, the fourth went about with a golden belt round his waist and little playman did nothing at all and was proud of it there was nothing but bragging among them and therefore I went away and now we sit here and glitter so at that moment more water came into the gutter so that it overflowed and the bit of bottle was carried away so he is disposed of observed the darling needle I remain here I'm too fine but that's my pride and my pride is honorable and proudly she said there and had many great thoughts I could almost believe that I was born of a sunbeam I'm so fine it really appears as if the sunbeams were always seeking for me under the water I'm so fine that my mother cannot find me if I had my old eye which broke off I think I should cry but no I should not do that it's not gentile to cry one day a couple of street boys where they sometimes found old nails, farthings and similar treasures it was dirty work but they took great delight in it oh! cried one who had pricked himself with the darling needle there's a fellow for you I'm not a fellow I'm a young lady said the darling needle but nobody listened to her the ceiling works had come off and she had turned black but black makes one look slender and she thought herself finer even than before here comes an eggshell sailing along said the boys and they stuck the darling needle fast in the eggshell white walls and black myself that looks well remarked the darling needle now one can see me I only hope I shall not be seasick but she was not seasick at all it is good against seasickness if one has a steel stomach and does not forget that one is a little more than an ordinary person now my seasickness is over the finer one is the more one can bear when the eggshell for a wagon went over her good heavens how it crushes one said the darling needle I'm getting seasick now I'm quite sick but she was not really sick though the wagon went over her she lay there at full length and there she may lie end of the darling needle by Hans Christian Anderson recording by Eswa in Belgium in July 2009 the bell deep 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 Margaret S. Bayhat the bell deep by Hans Christian Anderson translated by H. W. Delken ding dong ding dong it sounds up from the bell deep in the Odense Owl every child in the old town of Odense on the island of Funen knows the Owl which washes the gardens round about the town and flows on under the wooden bridges from the dam to the water mill in the Owl grow the yellow water lilies and brown feathery reeds the dark velvety flag grows there high and thick old and decayed willows ting and tottering hang far out over the stream beside the monks meadow and by the bleaching ground but opposite there are gardens upon gardens each different from the rest some with pretty flowers and bowers like little dolls pleasure grounds often displaying only cabbage and other kitchen plants and here and there the gardens cannot be seen at all for the great elder trees can see themselves out by the bank and hang far out over the streaming waters which are deeper here and there than an oar can fathom opposite the old nunnery is the deepest place which is called the bell deep and there dwells the old water spirit the Owlman this spirit sleeps through the day while the sun shines down upon the water but in starry and moonlit nights he shows himself he is very old grandmother says that she has heard her own grandmother tell of him he is said to lead a solitary life and to have nobody with whom he can converse save the great old church bell once the bell hung in the church tower but now there is no trace left of the tower or of the church which was called Saint Albans ding dong ding dong sounded the bell when the tower still stood there and one evening while the sun was setting and the bell was swinging away bravely it broke loose and came flying down through the air the brilliant metal shining in the ruddy beam ding dong ding dong now I'll retire to rest saying the bell and flew down into the Odent's Owl where it is deepest and that is why the place is called the bell deep but the bell got neither rest nor sleep down in the Owlman's haunt it sounds and rings so that the tones sometimes pierce upward through the waters and many people maintain that it's strains for both the death of someone but that is not true for then the bell is only talking with the Owlman who is now no longer alone and what is the bell telling it is old very old as we have already observed and it was there long before grandmother's grandmother was born and yet it is but a child in comparison with the Owlman who is an old quiet personage an oddity with his hose of eel skin and his scaly jacket with the yellow lilies for buttons and a wreath of reed in his hair and seaweed in his beard but he looks very pretty for all that what the bell tells to repeat it all would require years and days for year by year it is telling the old stories sometimes short ones sometimes long ones according to its whim it tells of old times of the dark hard times thus in the church of saint albin the monk mounted up into the tower he was young and handsome but thoughtful exceedingly he looked through the loophole out upon the Odin's Owl when the bed of water was yet broad and the monk's meadow was still a lake he looked out over it and over the rampart and over the nun's hill opposite where the convent lay and the light gleamed forth from the nun's cell he had known the nun right well and he thought of her and his heart beat quicker as he thought ding dong ding dong yes this was the story the bell told into the tower came also the dapper man-servant of the bishop and when I the bell who am made of metal rang hard and loud and swung to and fro I might have beaten out his brains he sat down close under me and played with two little sticks as if they had been a stringed instrument and he sang to it now I'm missing it allowed though at other times I may not whisper it I'm missing of everything that is kept concealed behind lock and bars yonder it is cold and wet the rats are eating her up alive nobody knows of it nobody hears of it not even now for the bell is ringing and singing it's loud ding dong ding dong there was a king in those days they called him canute he bowed himself before bishop and monk but when he offended the free peasants with heavy taxes and hard words they seized their weapons and put him to flight like a wild beast he sought shelter in the church and shut gate and door killed him the violent band surrounded the church I heard tell of it the crows, ravens, and magpies started up in terror at the yelling and shouting that sounded around they flew into the tower and out again they looked down upon the throng below and they also looked into the windows of the church and screamed out aloud what they saw there king canute before the altar in prayer his brothers Eric and Benedict stood by him as guard with drawn swords but the king's servant the treacherous Blake betrayed his master the throng in front of the church knew where they could hit the king and one of them flung a stone through a pane of glass and the king lay there dead the cries and screams the savage horde and of the birds sounded through the air and I joined in it also for I sang ding dong ding dong the church bell hangs high and looks far around and sees the birds around it and understands their language the wind roars in upon it through windows and loopholes and the wind knows everything for he gets it from the air and circles all things and the church bell understands his tongue and rings it out into the world ding dong ding dong but this was too much for me to hear and know I was not able any longer to ring it out I became so tired so heavy that the beam broke and I flew out into the gleaming ow where the water is deepest and where the owl man lives solitary and alone and year by year I tell him what I have heard and what I know ding dong ding dong thus it sounds complainingly out of the bell deep in the Odin's owl that is what grandmother told us but the schoolmaster says that there was not any bell that rung down there and that do so and that no owl man dwelt yonder for there was no owl man at all and when all other church bells are sounding sweetly he says that it is not really the bells that are sounding but that it is the air itself which sends forth the notes and grandmother said to us that the bell itself said it was the air who told it him consequently they are agreed on that point and this much is sure be cautious cautious and take good heed to thyself they both say the air knows everything it is around us it is in us it talks of our thoughts and of our deeds and it speaks longer of them than does the bell down in the depths of the Odin's owl where the owl man dwells it rings out into the vault of heaven far far out forever and ever till the heaven bell's sound ding dong ding dong end of the bell deep by Hans Christian Anderson The Elf of the Rose 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 Clive Caterall The Elf of the Rose by Hans Christian Anderson in the midst of a garden grew a rose tree in full blossom and in the prettiest of all the roses lived an elf he was such a little wee thing that no human eye could see him behind each leaf of the rose he had a sleeping chamber he was as well formed and as beautiful as a little child could be and had wings that reached from his shoulders to his feet oh what sweet fragrance there was in his chambers and how clean and beautiful were the walls for they were the blushing leaves of the rose during the whole day he enjoyed himself in the warm sunshine flew from flower to flower and danced on the wings of the flying butterflies then he took it into his head to measure how many steps he would have to go through the roads and crossroads that are on the leaf of a linden tree what we call the veins on a leaf he took for roads and very long roads they were for him for before he had half finished his task the sun went down he had commenced his work too late it became very cold the dew fell and the wind blew so he thought the best thing he could do would be to return home he harried himself as much as he could he found the roses all closed up and he could not get in not a single rose stood open the poor little elf was very much frightened he had never before been out at night but it always slumbered secretly behind the warm rose-leaves oh this would certainly be his death at the other end of the garden he knew there was an arbor overgrown with beautiful honeysuckles the blossoms looked like large painted horns and he thought to himself he would go and sleep in one of these till the morning he flew thither but hush two people were in the arbor a handsome young man and a beautiful lady they sat side by side and wished that they might never be obliged apart they loved each other much more than the best child can love its father and mother but we must part said the young man your brother does not like our engagement and therefore he sends me so far away on business over mountains and seas farewell my sweet bride for so you are to me and then they kissed each other and the girl wept and gave him a rose but before she did so she pressed a kiss upon it so fervently that the flower opened then the little elf flew in and leaned his head on the delicate fragrant walls here he could plainly hear them say farewell farewell and he felt that the rose had been placed on the young man's breast oh how his heart did beat the little elf could not go to sleep it thumped so loudly the young man took it out as he walked through the dark wood alone and kissed the flower so often and so violently that the little elf was almost crushed he could feel through the leaf how hot the lips of the young man were and the rose had opened as if from the heat of the noonday sun there came another man who looked gloomy and wicked he was the wicked brother of the beautiful maiden he drew out a sharp knife and while the other was kissing the rose the wicked man stabbed him to death and he cut off his head and buried it with the body in the soft earth under the linden tree now he is gone and will soon be forgotten thought the wicked brother will never come back again he was going on a long journey over mountains and seas it is easy for a man to lose his life in such a journey my sister will suppose he is dead for he cannot come back and she will not dare to question me about him then he scattered the dry leaves over the light earth with his foot and went home through the darkness but he went not alone as he thought the little elf accompanied him with a wooden leaf which had fallen from the tree onto the wicked man's head as he was digging the grave the hat was on the head now which made it very dark and the little elf shuddered with fright and indignation at the wicked deed it was the dawn of the morning before the wicked man reached home he took off his hat and went into his sister's room there lay the beautiful blooming girl dreaming of him whom she loved so and who was now, she supposed far away over mountain and sea her wicked brother stooped over her and laughed hideously as fiends only can laugh the dry leaf fell out of his hair upon the counterpaint but he did not notice it and went to get a little sleep during the early morning hours but the elf slipped out of the withered leaf placed himself by the ear of the sleeping girl and told her as in a dream the little elf shudder described the place where her brother had slain her lover and buried his body and told her of the linden tree in full blossom that stood close by that you may not think this is only a dream that I have told you, he said you will find on your bed a withered leaf then she awoke and found it there oh, what bitter tears she shed and she could not open her heart the window stood open the whole day and the little elf could easily have reached the roses or any of the flowers but he could not find it in his heart to leave one so afflicted in the window stood a bush bearing monthly roses he seated himself in one of the flowers and gazed on the poor girl her brother often came into the room and would be quite cheerful in spite of his base conduct so she dare not say a word to him of her heart's grief as soon as night came on she slipped out of the house and went into the wood to the spot where the linden tree stood and after removing the leaves from the earth she turned it up and there found him who had been murdered oh, how she wept and prayed that she also might die gladly would she have taken the body home with her but that was impossible so she took up the poor head with the closed eyes kissed the cold lips and shook the mould out of the beautiful hair I will keep this, said she and as soon as she had covered the body again with the earth and leaves she took the head and a little sprig of jasmine that bloomed in the wood near the spot where he was buried and carried them home with her as soon as she was in her room she took the largest flower pot she could find and in this she placed the head of the dead man covered it up with earth and planted the twig of jasmine in it farewell, farewell whispered the little elf he could not any longer endure to witness all this agony of grief he therefore flew away to his rose in the garden but the rose was faded only a few dry leaves still clung to the green hedge behind it alas how soon all that is good and beautiful passes away said the elf after a while he found another rose which became his home for among its delicate, fragrant leaves he could dwell in safety every morning he flew to the window of the poor girl and it was found her weeping by the flower pot the bitter tears fell upon the jasmine twig and each day as she became paler and paler the sprig appeared to grow greener and fresher after another sprouted forth and little white buds blossomed which the poor girl fondly kissed but her wicked brother scolded her and asked her if she was going mad he could not imagine why she was weeping over that flower pot and it annoyed him he did not know whose closed eyes were there nor what red lips were fading beneath the earth and one day she sat and leaned her head against the flower pot the little elf of the rose found her asleep then he seated himself by her ear talked to her of that evening in the arbor of the sweet perfume of the rose and the loves of the elves sweetly she dreamed and while she dreamt her life passed away calmly and gently and her spirit was with him whom she loved in heaven and the jasmine opened its large white bells and spread forth its sweet fragrance it had no other way of showing its grief for the dead but the wicked brother considered the beautiful blooming plant as his own property left to him by his sister and he placed it in his sleeping-room close by his bed for it was very lovely in appearance and the fragrant sweet and delightful the little elf of the rose followed it and flew from flower to flower telling each little spirit that dwell in them the story of the murdered young man performed part of the earth beneath them and of the wicked brother and the poor sister we know it said each little spirit in the flowers we know it for have we not sprung from the eyes and lips of the murdered one we know it we know it and the flowers nodded with their heads in a peculiar manner the elf of the rose could not understand how they could rest so quietly in the matter so he flew to the bees in the honey and told them of the wicked brother the bees told it to their queen who commanded that the next morning they should go and kill the murderer but during the night the first after the sister's death while the brother was sleeping in his bed close to where he had placed the fragrant jasmine every flower cup opened and invisibly the little spirit stole out armed with poisoned spears they placed themselves by the ear of the sleeper told him dreadful dreams and then flew across his lips and pricked his tongue with their poisoned spears now we have revenge the dead said they and flew back into the white bells of the jasmine flowers when the morning came as soon as the window was opened the rose elf with the queen bee and the whole swarm of bees rushed in to kill him but he was already dead people were standing round the bed and saying that the scent of the jasmine had killed him and the elf of the rose understood the revenge of the flowers and explained it to the queen bee and she with the whole swarm buzzed about the flower pot the bees could not be driven away then a man took it up to remove it and one of the bees stung him in the hand so that he let the flower pot fall and it was broken to pieces then everyone saw the whitened skull and they knew the dead man in the bed was a murderer and the queen bee hummed in the air and sang of the revenge of the flowers and of the elf of the rose and said that behind the smallest leaf dwells one who can discover evil deeds and punish them also end of the elf of the rose by Hans Christian Andersen the beetle who went on his travels by Hans Christian Andersen this is a library box recording library box recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit librarybox.org recording by Joelle Peebles the beetle who went on his travels by Hans Christian Andersen there was once an emperor who had a horse shod with gold he had a golden shoe on each foot and why was this he was a beautiful creature with slender legs bright intelligent eyes over his neck like a veil he had carried his master through fire and smoke in the battlefield with the bullets whistling round him he had kicked and bitten and taken part in the fight when the enemy advanced and with his master on his back he had dashed over the fallen foe and saved the golden crown and the emperor's life which was of more value than the brightest gold this is the reason of the emperor's horse wearing golden shoes a beetle came creeping forth from the stable where the farrier had been shooing the horse great ones first of course said he and then the little ones but size is not always a proof of greatness he stretched out his thin leg as he spoke and pray what do you want asked the farrier golden shoes replied the beetle why you must be out of your senses cried the farrier golden shoes for you indeed yes certainly golden shoes but why does the horse have golden shoes asked the farrier of course you understand the reason understand well I understand that it is a personal slight to me cried the beetle it is done to annoy me so I intend to go out into the world and seek my fortune go along with you said the farrier you're a rude fellow you're a rude fellow you're a rude fellow you're a rude fellow you're a rude fellow cried the beetle as he walked out of the stable and then he flew for a short distance till he found himself in a beautiful flower garden all fragrant with roses and lavender the lady birds with red and black shells on their backs and delicate wings were flying about and one of them said is it not sweet and lovely here oh how beautiful everything is I am accustomed to better things said the beetle do you call this beautiful it's not even a dung heap then he went on and under the shadow of a large haystack he found a caterpillar crawling along how beautiful this world is said the caterpillar the sun is so warm I quite enjoy it and soon I shall go to sleep and die as they call it but I shall wake up with beautiful wings to fly with like a butterfly how conceited you are exclaimed the beetle fly about as a butterfly indeed what of that I have come out of the emperor's stable and no one there not even the emperor's horse who in fact wears my cast off golden shoes has any idea of flying except myself to have wings and fly why I can do that already and so saying he spread his wings and flew away I don't want to be disgusted he said to himself and yet I can't help it soon after he fell down upon an extensive lawn and for a time pretended to sleep but at last he fell asleep in earnest suddenly a heavy shower of rain came falling from the clouds the beetle woke up with the noise and would have been glad to creep into the earth for shelter but he could not he was tumbled over and over with the rain sometimes swimming on his stomach and sometimes on his back and as for flying that was out of the question he began to doubt whether he should escape with his life so he remained quietly lying where he was after a while the weather cleared up a little and the beetle was able to rub the water from his eyes and look about him he saw something gleaming and he managed to make his way up to it it was a linen which had been laid to bleach on the grass he crept into a fold of the damp linen which certainly was not so comfortable a place to lie in as the warm stable but there was nothing better so he remained lying there for a whole day and night and the rain kept on all the time towards morning he crept out of his hiding place feeling in a very bad temper with the climate two frogs were sitting on the linen and their bright eyes actually glistened with pleasure wonderful weather this cried one of them and so refreshing this linen holds the water together so beautifully that my hind legs quiver as if I were going to swim I should like to know said another if the swallow who flies so far in her many journeys to foreign lands ever met with a better climate than this but delicious moisture it is as pleasant as lying in a wet ditch I am sure anyone who does not enjoy this has no love for his father land have you ever been in the emperor's stable asked the beetle there the moisture is warm and refreshing that's the climate for me but I could not take it with me on my travels is there not even a dung hill here in this garden where a person of rank like myself could take up his abode and feel at home but the frogs either did not or would not understand him I never asked a question twice said the beetle after he had asked this one three times and received no answer then he went on a little farther and stumbled against a piece of broken crockery ware which certainly ought not to have been lying there but as it was there it formed a good shelter against wind and weather to several families of earwigs who dwelt in it their requirements were not many they were very sociable affection for their children so much so that each mother considered her own child the most beautiful and clever of them all our dear son has engaged himself said one mother dear innocent boy his greatest ambition is that he may one day creep into a clergyman's ear that is a very artless and lovable wish and being engaged will keep him steady what happiness for a mother our son said another had scarcely crept out of the egg was off on his travels he is all life and spirits I expect he will wear out his horns with running how charming this is for a mother is it not Mr. Beetle for she knew the stranger by his horny coat you are both quite right said he so they begged him to walk in that is to come as far as he could under the broken piece of earthenware now you shall also see my little earwigs said a third and a fourth mother they are lovely little things and highly amusing they are never ill-behaved except when they are uncomfortable in their inside which unfortunately often happens at their age thus each mother spoke of her baby and their babies talked after their own fashion and made use of the little nippers they have in their tails to nip the beard of the beetle they are always busy about something the little rogues said the mother beaming with maternal pride but the beetle felt it a bore and he therefore inquired the way to the nearest dung heap that is quite out in the great world on the other side of the ditch answered in earwig I hope none of my children will ever go so far it would be the death of me but I shall try to get so far said the beetle and he walked off without taking any formal leave which is considered a polite thing to do when he arrived at the ditch he met several friends all of them beetles and they said and we are very comfortable may we ask you to step down into this rich mud you must be fatigued after your journey certainly said the beetle I shall be most happy I have been exposed to the rain and have had to lie upon linen and cleanliness is a thing that greatly exhausts me I have also pains in one of my wings from standing in the draft under a piece of broken crockery it is really quite refreshing to be with one's own kindred again perhaps you came from a dung heap observed the oldest of them no indeed I came from a much grander place replied the beetle I came from the emperor's stable where I was born with golden shoes on my feet I am travelling on a secret embassy but you must not ask me any questions for I cannot betray my secret then the beetle stepped down into the rich mud where sat three young lady beetles who tittered because they did not know what to say none of them are engaged yet said their mother and the beetle maidens tittered again this time quite in confusion I have never seen greater beauties even in the royal stables exclaimed the beetle who is now resting himself don't spoil my girl said the mother and don't talk to them pray unless you have serious intentions but of course the beetle's intentions were serious and after a while our friend was engaged the mother gave them her blessing and all the other beetles cried hurrah immediately after the betrothal came the marriage for there was no reason to delay the following day passed very pleasantly and the next was tolerably comfortable but on the third it became necessary for him to think of getting food for his wife and perhaps for children I have allowed myself to be taken in said our beetle to himself and now there's nothing to be done but to take them in in return no sooner said than done away he went and stayed away all day and all night and his wife remained behind a forsaken widow oh said the other beetles this fellow that we have received into our family is nothing but a complete vagabond he has gone away and left his wife a burden upon our hands well she can be unmarried again and remain here with my other daughters said the mother fee on the villain that forsook her in the meantime the beetle who had sailed across the ditch on a cabbage leaf had been journeying on the other side in the morning two persons came up to the ditch when they saw him they took him up and turned him over and over looking very learned all the time especially one who was a boy Allah sees the black beetle in the black stone and the black rock is not that written in the Quran he asked then he translated the beetle's name into Latin and said a great deal upon the creature's nature and history the second person who was older and a scholar proposed to carry the beetle home as they wanted just such good specimens as this our beetle considered the speech a great insult so he flew suddenly out of the speaker's hand his wings were dry now so they carried him to a great distance till at last he reached a hot house where a sash of the glass roof was partly open so he quietly slipped in and buried himself in the warm earth it is very comfortable here he said to himself and soon after he fell asleep then he dreamed that the emperor's horse was dying and had left him his golden shoes and also promised that he should have two more all this was very delightful and when the beetle woke up he crept forth and looked around him what a splendid place the hot house was at the back large palm trees were growing and the sunlight made the leaves look quite glossy and beneath them what a perfusion of luxuriant green and of flowers red like flame, yellow as amber white as new fallen snow what a wonderful quantity of plants cried the beetle how good they will taste when they are decayed this is a capital store room there must certainly be some relations of mine living here I will just see if I can find anyone with whom I can associate I'm proud certainly but I'm also proud of being so then he prowled about in the earth and thought what a pleasant dream that was about the dying horse and the golden shoes he had inherited he seized the beetle and squeezed him and turned him round and round the gardener's little son and his playfellow had come into the hot house and seeing the beetle wanted to have some fun with him first he was wrapped in a vine leaf and put into a warm trousers pocket he twisted and turned about with all his might but he got a good squeeze from the boy's hand as a hint for him to keep quiet then the boy went quickly towards a lake that lay at the end of the garden here the beetle put into an old broken wooden shoe in which a little stick had been fastened upright for a mast and to this mast the beetle was bound with a piece of worsted now he was a sailor and had to sail away the lake was not very large but to the beetle it seemed an ocean and he was so astonished at its size that he fell over on his back and kicked out his legs then the little ship sailed away sometimes the current of the water seized it but whenever it went too far from the shore one of the boys turned up his trousers and went in after it and brought it back to land but at last just as it went merely out again the two boys were called and so angrily that they hastened to obey and ran away as fast as they could from the pond so that the little ship was left to its fate it was carried away farther and farther from the shore till it reached the open sea this was a terrible prospect for the beetle for he could not escape in consequence of being bound to the mast then a fly came and paid him a visit what beautiful weather said the fly I shall rest here and sun myself you must have a pleasant time of it you speak without knowing the facts replied the beetle don't you see that I am a prisoner ah but I'm not a prisoner remarked the fly and away he flew well now I know the world said the beetle to himself it's an imbominable world I'm the only respectable person in it first they refuse me my golden shoes then I have to lie on damp linen and to stand in a draft and to crown all they fasten a wife upon me then when I have made a step forward in the world and found out a comfortable position just as I could wish it to be one of these human boys comes and ties me up and leaves me to the mercy of the wild waves while the emperor's favorite horse goes prancing about proudly on his golden shoes this vexes me more than anything but it is useless to look for sympathy in this world my career has been very interesting but what's the use of that if nobody knows anything about it the world does not deserve to be made acquainted with my adventures for it ought to have given me golden shoes when the emperor's horse was shod and I stretched out my feet to be shod too if I had received golden shoes I should have been an ornament to the stable now I am lost to the stable and to the world it is all over with me but all was not over yet a boat in which were a few young girls came rowing up look yonder is an old wooden shoe sailing along said one of the younger girls and there's a poor little creature bound fast in it said another the boat now came close to our beetle ship and the young girls fished it out of the water one of them drew a small pair of scissors from her pocket and cut the worsted without hurting the beetle and when she stepped on shore she placed him on the grass there she said creep away or fly if thou canst it is a splendid thing to have thy liberty away flew the beetle straight through the open window of a large building there he sank down tired and exhausted exactly on the mane of the emperor's favorite horse who was standing in his stable and the beetle found himself at home again for some time he clung to the mane that he might recover himself well he said here I am seated on the emperor's favorite horse sitting upon him as if I were the emperor himself but what was it the farrier asked me ah I remember now that's a good thought he asked me why the golden shoes were given to the horse the answer is quite clear to me now they were given to the horse on my account and this reflection put the beetle into a good temper the sun's rays also came streaming into the stable and shown upon him and made the place lively and bright traveling expands the mind very much said the beetle the world is not so bad after all if you know how to take things as they come end of the beetle who went on his travels by Hans Christian