notwithstanding."

Now the trial was to take place. The Flea jumped so high that nobody could see
where he went to; so they all asserted he had not jumped at all; and that was
dishonorable.

The Grasshopper jumped only half as high; but he leaped into the King's face,
who said that was ill-mannered.

The Leap-frog stood still for a long time lost in thought; it was believed at
last he would not jump at all.

"I only hope he is not unwell," said the house-dog; when, pop! he made a jump
all on one side into the lap of the Princess, who was sitting on a little
golden stool close by.

Hereupon the King said, "There is nothing above my daughter; therefore to
bound up to her is the highest jump that can be made; but for this, one must
possess understanding, and the Leap-frog has shown that he has understanding.
He is brave and intellectual."

And so he won the Princess.

"It's all the same to me," said the Flea. "She may have the old Leap-frog, for
all I care. I jumped the highest; but in this world merit seldom meets its
reward. A fine exterior is what people look at now-a-days."

The Flea then went into foreign service, where, it is said, he was killed.

The Grasshopper sat without on a green bank, and reflected on worldly things;
and he said too, "Yes, a fine exterior is everything--a fine exterior is what
people care about." And then he began chirping his peculiar melancholy song,
from which we have taken this history; and which may, very possibly, be all
untrue, although it does stand here printed in black and white.



THE ELDERBUSH

Once upon a time there was a little boy who had taken cold. He had gone
out and got his feet wet; though nobody could imagine how it had happened, for
it was quite dry weather. So his mother undressed him, put him to bed, and
had the tea-pot brought in, to make him a good cup of Elderflower tea.
Just at that moment the merry old man came in who lived up a-top of the house
all alone; for he had neither wife nor children--but he liked children very
much, and knew so many fairy tales, that it was quite delightful.

"Now drink your tea," said the boy's mother; "then, perhaps, you may hear a
fairy tale."

"If I had but something new to tell," said the old man. "But how did the child
get his feet wet?"

"That is the very thing that nobody can make out," said his mother.

"Am I to hear a fairy tale?" asked the little boy.

"Yes, if you can tell me exactly--for I must know that first--how deep the
gutter is in the little street opposite, that you pass through in going to
school."

"Just up to the middle of my boot," said the child; "but then I must go into
the deep hole."

"Ah, ah! That's where the wet feet came from," said the old man. "I ought now
to tell you a story; but I don't know any more."

"You can make one in a moment," said the little boy. "My mother says that all
you look at can be turned into a fairy tale: and that you can find a story in
everything."

"Yes, but such tales and stories are good for nothing. The right sort come of
themselves; they tap at my forehead and say, 'Here we are.'"

"Won't there be a tap soon?" asked the little boy. And his mother laughed, put
some Elder-flowers in the tea-pot, and poured boiling water upon them.

"Do tell me something! Pray do!"

"Yes, if a fairy tale would come of its own accord; but they are proud and
haughty, and come only when they choose. Stop!" said he, all on a sudden. "I
have it! Pay attention! There is one in the tea-pot!"

And the little boy looked at the tea-pot. The cover rose more and more; and
the Elder-flowers came forth so fresh and white, and shot up long branches.
Out of the spout even did they spread themselves on all sides, and grew larger
and larger; it was a splendid Elderbush, a whole tree; and it reached into the
very bed, and pushed the curtains aside. How it bloomed! And what an odour! In
the middle of the bush sat a friendly-looking old woman in a most strange
dress. It was quite green, like the leaves of the elder, and was trimmed with
large white Elder-flowers; so that at first one could not tell whether it was
a stuff, or a natural green and real flowers.

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

"The Greeks and Romans," said the old man, "called her a Dryad; but that we do
not understand. The people who live in the New Booths* have a much better name
for her; they call her 'old Granny'--and she it is to whom you are to pay
attention. Now listen, and look at the beautiful Elderbush.



<< previous page | next page >>

Jump to page: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 |