Ole-Luk-Oie, the Dream-God


Ole Lukøje


There is nobody in the world who knows so many stories as Ole-Luk-Oie, or who can relate them so nicely. In the evening, while the children are seated at the table or in their little chairs, he comes up the stairs very softly, for he walks in his socks, then he opens the doors without the slightest noise, and throws a small quantity of very fine dust in their eyes, just enough to prevent them from keeping them open, and so they do not see him. Then he creeps behind them, and blows softly upon their necks, till their heads begin to droop. But Ole-Luk-Oie does not wish to hurt them, for he is very fond of children, and only wants them to be quiet that he may relate to them pretty stories, and they never are quiet until they are in bed and asleep. As soon as they are asleep, Ole-Luk-Oie seats himself upon the bed. He is nicely dressed; his coat is made of silken stuff; it is impossible to say of what color, for it changes from green to red, and from red to blue as he turns from side to side. Under each arm he carries an umbrella; one of them, with pictures on the inside, he spreads over the good children, and then they dream the most beautiful stories the whole night. But the other umbrella has no pictures, and this he holds over the naughty children so that they sleep heavily, and wake in the morning without having dreamed at all.
Now we shall hear how Ole-Luk-Oie came every night during a whole week to the little boy named Hjalmar, and what he told him. There were seven stories, as there are seven days in the week.
Monday
"Now pay attention," said Ole-Luk-Oie, in the evening, when Hjalmar was in bed, "and I will decorate the room."
Immediately all the flowers in the flower-pots became large trees, with long branches reaching to the ceiling, and stretching along the walls, so that the whole room was like a greenhouse. All the branches were loaded with flowers, each flower as beautiful and as fragrant as a rose; and, had any one tasted them, he would have found them sweeter even than jam. The fruit glittered like gold, and there were cakes so full of plums that they were nearly bursting. It was incomparably beautiful. At the same time sounded dismal moans from the table-drawer in which lay Hjalmar's school books.
"What can that be now?" said Ole-Luk-Oie, going to the table and pulling out the drawer.
It was a slate, in such distress because of a false number in the sum, that it had almost broken itself to pieces. The pencil pulled and tugged at its string as if it were a little dog that wanted to help, but could not.
And then came a moan from Hjalmar's copy-book. Oh, it was quite terrible to hear! On each leaf stood a row of capital letters, every one having a small letter by its side. This formed a copy; under these were other letters, which Hjalmar had written: they fancied they looked like the copy, but they were mistaken; for they were leaning on one side as if they intended to fall over the pencil-lines.
"See, this is the way you should hold yourselves," said the copy. "Look here, you should slope thus, with a graceful curve."
"Oh, we are very willing to do so, but we cannot," said Hjalmar's letters; "we are so wretchedly made."
"You must be scratched out, then," said Ole-Luk-Oie.
"Oh, no!" they cried, and then they stood up so gracefully it was quite a pleasure to look at them.
"Now we must give up our stories, and exercise these letters," said Ole-Luk-Oie; "One, two– one, two– " So he drilled them till they stood up gracefully, and looked as beautiful as a copy could look. But after Ole-Luk-Oie was gone, and Hjalmar looked at them in the morning, they were as wretched and as awkward as ever.
Tuesday
As soon as Hjalmar was in bed, Ole-Luk-Oie touched, with his little magic wand, all the furniture in the room, which immediately began to chatter, and each article only talked of itself.
Over the chest of drawers hung a large picture in a gilt frame, representing a landscape, with fine old trees, flowers in the grass, and a broad stream, which flowed through the wood, past several castles, far out into the wild ocean. Ole-Luk-Oie touched the picture with his magic wand, and immediately the birds commenced singing, the branches of the trees rustled, and the clouds moved across the sky, casting their shadows on the landscape beneath them. Then Ole-Luk-Oie lifted little Hjalmar up to the frame, and placed his feet in the picture, just on the high grass, and there he stood with the sun shining down upon him through the branches of the trees. He ran to the water, and seated himself in a little boat which lay there, and which was painted red and white. The sails glittered like silver, and six swans, each with a golden circlet round its neck, and a bright blue star on its forehead, drew the boat past the green wood, where the trees talked of robbers and witches, and the flowers of beautiful little elves and fairies, whose histories the butterflies had related to them. Brilliant fish, with scales like silver and gold, swam after the boat, sometimes making a spring and splashing the water round them, while birds, red and blue, small and great, flew after him in two long lines. The gnats danced round them, and the cockchafers cried "Buz, buz." They all wanted to follow Hjalmar, and all had some story to tell him. It was a most pleasant sail. Sometimes the forests were thick and dark, sometimes like a beautiful garden, gay with sunshine and flowers; then he passed great palaces of glass and of marble, and on the balconies stood princesses, whose faces were those of little girls whom Hjalmar knew well, and had often played with. One of them held out her hand, in which was a heart made of sugar, more beautiful than any confectioner ever sold. As Hjalmar sailed by, he caught hold of one side of the sugar heart, and held it fast, and the princess held fast also, so that it broke in two pieces. Hjalmar had one piece, and the princess the other, but Hjalmar's was the largest. At each castle stood little princes acting as sentinels. They presented arms, and had golden swords, and made it rain plums and tin soldiers, so that they must have been real princes.
Hjalmar continued to sail, sometimes through woods, sometimes as it were through large halls, and then by large cities. At last he came to the town where his nurse lived, who had carried him in her arms when he was a very little boy, and had always been kind to him. She nodded and beckoned to him, and then sang the little verses she had herself composed and set to him,–
How oft my memory turns to thee,
My own Hjalmar, ever dear!
When I could watch thy infant glee,
Or kiss away a pearly tear.
'Twas in my arms thy lisping tongue
First spoke the half-remembered word,
While o'er thy tottering steps I hung,
My fond protection to afford.
Farewell! I pray the Heavenly Power
To keep thee till thy dying hour.
And all the birds sang the same tune, the flowers danced on their stems, and the old trees nodded as if Ole-Luk-Oie had been telling them stories as well.
Wednesday
How the rain did pour down! Hjalmar could hear it in his sleep;. and when Ole-Luk-Oie opened the window, the water flowed quite up to the window-sill. It had the appearance of a large lake outside, and a beautiful ship lay close to the house.
"Wilt thou sail with me to-night, little Hjalmar?" said Ole-Luk-Oie; "then we shall see foreign countries, and thou shalt return here in the morning."
All in a moment, there stood Hjalmar, in his best clothes, on the deck of the noble ship; and immediately the weather became fine. They sailed through the streets, round by the church, and on every side rolled the wide, great sea. They sailed till the land disappeared, and then they saw a flock of storks, who had left their own country, and were travelling to warmer climates. The storks flew one behind the other, and had already been a long, long time on the wing. One of them seemed so tired that his wings could scarcely carry him. He was the last of the row, and was soon left very far behind. At length he sunk lower and lower, with outstretched wings, flapping them in vain, till his feet touched the rigging of the ship, and he slided from the sails to the deck, and stood before them. Then a sailor-boy caught him, and put him in the hen-house, with the fowls, the ducks, and the turkeys, while the poor stork stood quite bewildered amongst them.
"Just look at that fellow," said the chickens.
Then the turkey-cock puffed himself out as large as he could, and inquired who he was; and the ducks waddled backwards, crying, "Quack, quack."
Then the stork told them all about warm Africa, of the pyramids, and of the ostrich, which, like a wild horse, runs across the desert. But the ducks did not understand what he said, and quacked amongst themselves, "We are all of the same opinion; namely, that he is stupid."
"Yes, to be sure, he is stupid," said the turkey-cock; and gobbled.
Then the stork remained quite silent, and thought of his home in Africa.
"Those are handsome thin legs of yours," said the turkey-cock. "What do they cost a yard?"
"Quack, quack, quack," grinned the ducks; but, the stork pretended not to hear.
"You may as well laugh," said the turkey; "for that remark was rather witty, or perhaps it was above you. Ah, ah, is he not clever? He will be a great amusement to us while he remains here." And then he gobbled, and the ducks quacked, "Gobble, gobble; Quack, quack."
What a terrible uproar they made, while they were having such fun among themselves!
Then Hjalmar went to the hen-house; and, opening the door, called to the stork. Then he hopped out on the deck. He had rested himself now, and he looked happy, and seemed as if he nodded to Hjalmar, as if to thank him. Then he spread his wings, and flew away to warmer countries, while the hens clucked, the ducks quacked, and the turkey-cock turned quite scarlet in the head.
"To-morrow you shall be made into soup," said Hjalmar to the fowls; and then he awoke, and found himself lying in his little bed.
It was a wonderful journey which Ole-Luk-Oie had made him take this night.
Thursday
"What do you think I have got here?" said Ole-Luk-Oie, "Do not be frightened, and you shall see a little mouse." And then he held out his hand to him, in which lay a lovely little creature. "It has come to invite you to a wedding. Two little mice are going to enter into the marriage state tonight. They reside under the floor of your mother's store-room, and that must be a fine dwelling-place."
"But how can I get through the little mouse-hole in the floor?" asked Hjalmar.
"Leave me to manage that," said Ole-Luk-Oie. "I will soon make you small enough." And then he touched Hjalmar with his magic wand, whereupon he became less and less, until at last he was not longer than a little finger. "Now you can borrow the dress of the tin soldier. I think it will just fit you. It looks well to wear a uniform when you go into company."
"Yes, certainly," said Hjalmar; and in a moment he was dressed as neatly as the neatest of all tin soldiers.
"Will you be so good as to seat yourself in your mamma's thimble," said the little mouse, "that I may have the pleasure of drawing you to the wedding."
"Will you really take so much trouble, young lady?" said Hjalmar. And so in this way he rode to the mouse's wedding.
First they went under the floor, and then passed through a long passage, which was scarcely high enough to allow the thimble to drive under, and the whole passage was lit up with the phosphorescent light of rotten wood.
"Does it not smell delicious?" asked the mouse, as she drew him along. "The wall and the floor have been smeared with bacon-rind; nothing can be nicer."
Very soon they arrived at the bridal hall. On the right stood all the little lady-mice, whispering and giggling, as if they were making game of each other. To the left were the gentlemen-mice, stroking their whiskers with their fore-paws; and in the centre of the hall could be seen the bridal pair, standing side by side, in a hollow cheese-rind, and kissing each other, while all eyes were upon them; for they had already been betrothed, and were soon to be married. More and more friends kept arriving, till the mice were nearly treading each other to death; for the bridal pair now stood in the doorway, and none could pass in or out.
The room had been rubbed over with bacon-rind, like the passage, which was all the refreshment offered to the guests. But for dessert they produced a pea, on which a mouse belonging to the bridal pair had bitten the first letters of their names. This was something quite uncommon. All the mice said it was a very beautiful wedding, and that they had been very agreeably entertained.
After this, Hjalmar returned home. He had certainly been in grand society; but he had been obliged to creep under a room, and to make himself small enough to wear the uniform of a tin soldier.
Friday
"It is incredible how many old people there are who would be glad to have me at night," said Ole-Luk-Oie, "especially those who have done something wrong. 'Good little Ole,' say they to me, 'we cannot close our eyes, and we lie awake the whole night and see all our evil deeds sitting on our beds like little imps, and sprinkling us with hot water. Will you come and drive them away, that we may have a good night's rest?' and then they sigh so deeply and say, 'We would gladly pay you for it. Good-night, Ole-Luk, the money lies on the window.' But I never do anything for gold." - "What shall we do to-night?" asked Hjalmar. "I do not know whether you would care to go to another wedding," he replied, "although it is quite a different affair to the one we saw last night. Your sister's large doll, that is dressed like a man, and is called Herman, intends to marry the doll Bertha. It is also the dolls' birthday, and they will receive many presents."
"Yes, I know that already," said Hjalmar, "my sister always allows her dolls to keep their birthdays or to have a wedding when they require new clothes; that has happened already a hundred times, I am quite sure."
"Yes, so it may; but to-night is the hundred and first wedding, and when that has taken place it must be the last, therefore this is to be extremely beautiful. Only look."
Hjalmar looked at the table, and there stood the little card-board doll's house, with lights in all the windows, and drawn up before it were the tin soldiers presenting arms. The bridal pair were seated on the floor, leaning against the leg of the table, looking very thoughtful, and with good reason. Then Ole-Luk-Oie dressed up in grandmother's black gown married them.
As soon as the ceremony was concluded, all the furniture in the room joined in singing a beautiful song, which had been composed by the lead pencil, and which went to the melody of a military tattoo.
What merry sounds are on the wind,
As marriage rites together bind
A quiet and a loving pair,
Though formed of kid, yet smooth and fair!
:/: Hurrah! If they are deaf and blind,
We'll sing, though weather prove unkind.:/:
And now came the present; but the bridal pair had nothing to eat, for love was to be their food.
"Shall we go to a country house, or travel?" asked the bridegroom.
Then they consulted the swallow who had travelled so far, and the old hen in the yard, who had brought up five broods of chickens.
And the swallow talked to them of warm countries, where the grapes hang in large clusters on the vines, and the air is soft and mild, and about the mountains glowing with colors more beautiful than we can think of.
"But they have no red cabbage like we have," said the hen, "I was once in the country with my chickens for a whole summer, there was a large sand-pit, in which we could walk about and scratch as we liked. Then we got into a garden in which grew red cabbage; oh, how nice it was, I cannot think of anything more delicious."
"But one cabbage stalk is exactly like another," said the swallow; "and here we have often bad weather."
"Yes, but we are accustomed to it," said the hen.
"But it is so cold here, and freezes sometimes."
"Cold weather is good for cabbages," said the hen; "besides we do have it warm here sometimes. Four years ago, we had a summer that lasted more than five weeks, and it was so hot one could scarcely breathe. And then in this country we have no poisonous animals, and we are free from robbers. He must be wicked who does not consider our country the finest of all lands. He ought not to be allowed to live here." And then the hen wept very much and said, "I have also travelled. I once went twelve miles in a coop, and it was not pleasant travelling at all."
"The hen is a sensible woman," said the doll Bertha. "I don't care for travelling over mountains, just to go up and come down again. No, let us go to the sand-pit in front of the gate, and then take a walk in the cabbage garden."
And so they settled it.
Saturday
"Am I to hear any more stories?" asked little Hjalmar, as soon as Ole-Luk-Oie had sent him to sleep.
"We shall have no time this evening," said he, spreading out his prettiest umbrella over the child. "Look at these Chinese," and then the whole umbrella appeared like a large china bowl, with blue trees and pointed bridges, upon which stood little Chinamen nodding their heads. "We must make all the world beautiful for to-morrow morning," said Ole-Luk-Oie, "for it will be a holiday, it is Sunday. I must now go to the church steeple and see if the little sprites who live there have polished the bells, so that they may sound sweetly. Then I must go into the fields and see if the wind has blown the dust from the grass and the leaves, and the most difficult task of all which I have to do, is to take down all the stars and brighten them up. I have to number them first before I put them in my apron, and also to number the places from which I take them, so that they may go back into the right holes, or else they would not remain, and we should have a number of falling stars, for they would all tumble down one after the other."
"Hark ye! Mr. Luk-Oie," said an old portrait which hung on the wall of Hjalmar's bedroom. "Do you know me? I am Hjalmar's great-grandfather. I thank you for telling the boy stories, but you must not confuse his ideas. The stars cannot be taken down from the sky and polished; they are spheres like our earth, which is a good thing for them."
"Thank you, old great-grandfather," said Ole-Luk-Oie. "I thank you; you may be the head of the family, as no doubt you are, but I am older than you. I am an ancient heathen. The old Romans and Greeks named me the Dream-god. I have visited the noblest houses, and continue to do so; still I know how to conduct myself both to high and low, and now you may tell the stories yourself:" and so Ole-Luk-Oie walked off, taking his umbrellas with him.
"Well, well, one is never to give an opinion, I suppose," grumbled the portrait. And it woke Hjalmar.
Sunday
"Good evening," said Ole-Luk-Oie.
Hjalmar nodded, and then sprang out of bed, and turned his great-grandfather's portrait to the wall, so that it might not interrupt them as it had done yesterday. "Now," said he, "you must tell me some stories about five green peas that lived in one pod; or of the chickseed that courted the chickweed; or of the darning needle, who acted so proudly because she fancied herself an embroidery needle."
"You may have too much of a good thing," said Ole-Luk-Oie. "You know that I like best to show you something, so I will show you my brother. He is also called Ole-Luk-Oie but he never visits any one but once, and when he does come, he takes him away on his horse, and tells him stories as they ride along. He knows only two stories. One of these is so wonderfully beautiful, that no one in the world can imagine anything at all like it; but the other is just as ugly and frightful, so that it would be impossible to describe it." Then Ole-Luk-Oie lifted Hjalmar up to the window. "There now, you can see my brother, the other Ole-Luk-Oie; he is also called Death. You perceive he is not so bad as they represent him in picture books; there he is a skeleton, but now his coat is embroidered with silver, and he wears the splendid uniform of a hussar, and a mantle of black velvet flies behind him, over the horse. Look, how he gallops along." Hjalmar saw that as this Ole-Luk-Oie rode on, he lifted up old and young, and carried them away on his horse. Some he seated in front of him, and some behind, but always inquired first, "How stands the mark-book?"
"Good," they all answered.
"Yes, but let me see for myself," he replied; and they were obliged to give him the books. Then all those who had "Very good," or "Exceedingly good," came in front of the horse, and heard the beautiful story; while those who had "Middling," or "Tolerably good," in their books, were obliged to sit behind, and listen to the frightful tale. They trembled and cried, and wanted to jump down from the horse, but they could not get free, for they seemed fastened to the seat.
"Why, Death is a most splendid Luk-Oie," said Hjalmar. "I am not in the least afraid of him."
"You need have no fear of him," said Ole-Luk-Oie, "if you take care and keep a good conduct book."
"Now I call that very instructive," murmured the great-grandfather's portrait. "It is useful sometimes to express an opinion;" so he was quite satisfied.
These are some of the doings and sayings of Ole-Luk-Oie. I hope he may visit you himself this evening, and relate some more.
I hele verden er der ingen, der kan så mange historier, som Ole Lukøje! Han kan rigtignok fortælle!
Sådan ud på aftnen, når børn sidder nok så net ved bordet, eller på deres skammel, kommer Ole Lukøje; han kommer så stille op ad trappen; for han går på hosesokker, han lukker ganske sagte døren op og fut! så sprøjter han børnene sødmælk ind i øjnene, så fint, så fint, men dog altid nok til at de ikke kan holde øjnene åbne, og derfor ikke ser ham; han lister sig lige bag ved, blæser dem sagte i nakken, og så bliver de tunge i hovedet, oh ja! men det gør ikke ondt, for Ole Lukøje mener det just godt med børnene, han vil bare have at de skal være rolige, og det er de bedst, når man får dem i seng, de skal være stille, for at han kan fortælle dem historier.
Når børnene nu sover, sætter Ole Lukøje sig på sengen; han er godt klædt på, hans frakke er af silketøj, men det er ikke muligt at sige, hvad kulør den har, for den skinner grøn, rød og blå, alt ligesom han drejer sig; under hver arm holder han en paraply, en med billeder på, og den sætter han over de gode børn, og så drømmer de hele natten de dejligste historier, og en paraply har han, hvor der slet intet er på, og den sætter han over de uartige børn, så sover de så tosset og har om morgnen, når de vågner, ikke drømt det allermindste.
Nu skal vi høre, hvorledes Ole Lukøje i en hel uge kom hver aften til en lille dreng, som hed Hjalmar, og hvad han fortalte ham! Det er hele syv historier, for der er syv dage i en uge.
Mandag
"Hør nu engang!" sagde Ole Lukøje om aftnen, da han havde fået Hjalmar i seng, "nu skal jeg pynte op!" og så blev alle blomsterne i urtepotterne til store træer, der strakte deres lange grene hen under loftet og langs med væggen, så hele stuen så ud som det dejligste lysthus, og alle grene var fulde af blomster, og hver blomst var smukkere end en rose, lugtede så dejlig, og ville man spise den, var den sødere end syltetøj! Frugterne glinsede ligesom guld og så var der boller der revnede af rosiner, det var mageløst! men i det samme begyndte det at jamre sig så forskrækkeligt henne i bordskuffen, hvor Hjalmars skolebøger lå.
"Hvad er nu det!" sagde Ole Lukøje og gik hen til bordet og fik skuffen op. Det var tavlen, som det knugede og trykkede i, for der var kommet et galt tal i regnestykket, så det var færdigt at falde fra hinanden; griflen hoppede og sprang i sit sejlgarnsbånd, ligesom den kunne være en lille hund, den ville hjælpe på regnestykket, men den kunne ikke! Og så var det Hjalmars skrivebog, som det jamrede sig inden i, oh det var ordentligt fælt at høre! langs ned på hvert blad stod alle de store bogstaver, hvert med et lille ved siden, en hel række ned ad, det var sådan en forskrift, og ved den igen stod nogle bogstaver, der troede de så ud lige som den, for dem havde Hjalmar skrevet, de lå næsten ligesom om de var faldet over blyantsstregen, hvilken de skulle stå på.
"Se, sådan skulle I holde eder!" sagde forskriften, "se, sådan til siden, med et rask sving!"
"Oh, vi vil gerne," sagde Hjalmars bogstaver, "men vi kan ikke, vi er så dårlige!"
"Så skal I have kinderpulver!" sagde Ole Lukøje.
"Oh nej!" råbte de, og så stod de så ranke at det var en lyst!
"Ja nu får vi ikke fortalt historier!" sagde Ole Lukøje, "nu må jeg eksercere dem! en to! en to!" og så eksercerede han bogstaverne, og de stod så ranke og så sunde som nogen forskrift kunne stå, men da Ole Lukøje gik, og Hjalmar om morgnen så til dem, så var de lige så elendige som før.
Tirsdag
Så snart Hjalmar var i seng, rørte Ole Lukøje med sin lille troldsprøjte ved alle møblerne i stuen og straks begyndte de at snakke, og alle sammen snakkede de om dem selv, undtagen spyttebakken, den stod tavs og ærgrede sig over, at de kunne være så forfængelige, kun at tale om dem selv, kun at tænke på dem selv og slet ikke at have tanke for den, der dog stod så beskeden i krogen og lod sig spytte på.
Der hang over kommoden et stort maleri i en forgyldt ramme, det var et landskab, man så høje gamle træer, blomster i græsset og et stort vand med en flod, der løb om bag skoven, forbi mange slotte, langt ud i det vilde hav.
Ole Lukøje rørte med sin troldsprøjte ved maleriet og så begyndte fuglene derinde at synge, træernes grene bevægede sig og skyerne tog ordentlig flugt, man kunne se deres skygge hen over landskabet.
Nu løftede Ole Lukøje den lille Hjalmar op mod rammen, og Hjalmar stak benene ind i maleriet, lige ind i det høje græs og der stod han; solen skinnede mellem træernes grene ned på ham. Han løb hen til vandet, satte sig i en lille båd der lå; den var malet rød og hvid, sejlene skinnede som sølv og seks svaner alle med guldkroner nede om halsen og en strålende blå stjerne på hovedet, trak båden forbi de grønne skove, hvor træerne fortalte om røvere og hekse og blomsterne om de nydelige små alfer og hvad sommerfuglene havde fortalt dem.
De dejligste fisk, med skæl som sølv og guld, svømmede efter båden, imellem gjorde de et spring så det sagde plask igen i vandet, og fuglene, røde og blå, små og store, fløj i to lange rækker bag efter, myggene dansede og oldenborren sagde bum, bum; de ville alle sammen følge Hjalmar, og hver havde de en historie at fortælle!
Det var rigtignok en sejltur! snart var skovene så tætte og så mørke, snart var de som den dejligste have med solskin og blomster og der lå store slotte af glas og af marmor; på altanerne stod prinsesser, og alle var de små piger, som Hjalmar godt kendte, han havde leget med dem før. De rakte hånden ud hver og holdt den yndigste sukkergris, som nogen kagekone kunne sælge, og Hjalmar tog i den ene ende af sukkergrisen, i det han sejlede forbi, og prinsessen holdt godt fast, og så fik hver sit stykke, hun det mindste, Hjalmar det allerstørste! Ved hvert slot stod små prinser skildvagt, de skuldrede med guldsabel og lod det regne med rosiner og tinsoldater; det var rigtige prinser!
Snart sejlede Hjalmar gennem skove, snart ligesom igennem store sale, eller midt igennem en by; han kom også igennem den hvor hans barnepige boede, hun der havde båret ham, da han var en ganske lille dreng, og havde holdt så meget af ham, og hun nikkede og vinkede og sang det nydelige lille vers, hun selv havde digtet og sendt Hjalmar:
Jeg tænker på dig så mangen stund,
min egen Hjalmar, du søde!
Jeg har jo kysset din lille mund,
din pande, de kinder røde.
Jeg hørte dig sige de første ord,
jeg måtte dig afsked sige.
Vor Herre velsigne dig her på jord,
en engel du er fra hans rige!
Og alle fuglene sang med, blomsterne dansede på stilken og de gamle træer nikkede, ligesom om Ole Lukøje også fortalte dem historier.
Onsdag
Nej hvor regnen skyllede ned udenfor! Hjalmar kunne høre det i søvne! og da Ole Lukøje lukkede et vindue op, stod vandet lige op til vindueskarmen; der var en hel sø derude, men det prægtigste skib lå op til huset.
"Vil du sejle med, lille Hjalmar!" sagde Ole Lukøje, "så kan du i nat komme til de fremmede lande og være her i morgen igen!"
Og så stod med et Hjalmar i sine søndagsklæder midt på det prægtige skib, og straks blev vejret velsignet og de sejlede gennem gaderne, krydsede om kirken og nu var alt en stor vild sø. De sejlede så længe, at der ingen land var at øjne mere, og de så en flok storke, de kom også hjemme fra og ville til de varme lande; den ene stork fløj bag ved den anden og de havde allerede fløjet så langt, så langt; en af dem var så træt, at hans vinger næsten ikke kunne bære ham længere, han var den allersidste i rækken og snart kom han et stort stykke bag efter, til sidst sank han med udbredte vinger lavere og lavere, han gjorde endnu et par slag med vingerne, men det hjalp ikke; nu berørte han med sine fødder tovværket på skibet, nu gled han ned af sejlet og bums! der stod han på dækket.
Så tog matrosdrengen ham og satte ham ind i hønsehuset, til høns, ænder og kalkuner; den stakkels stork stod ganske forknyt midt imellem dem.
"S'ikken en!" sagde alle hønsene.
Og den kalkunske hane pustede sig op så tykt den kunne og spurgte hvem han var; og ænderne gik baglæns og puffede til hinanden: "Rap dig! rap dig!"
Og storken fortalte om det varme Afrika, om pyramiderne og om strudsen, der løb som en vild hest hen over ørkenen, men ænderne forstod ikke hvad han sagde, og så puffede de til hinanden: "Skal vi være enige om, at han er dum!"
"Ja vist er han dum!" sagde den kalkunske hane og så pludrede den op. Da tav storken ganske stille og tænkte på sit Afrika.
"Det er nogle dejlige tynde ben I har!" sagde kalkunen. "Hvad koster alen?"
"Skrat, skrat, skrat!" grinte alle ænderne, men storken lod, som om han slet ikke hørte det.
"I kan gerne le med!" sagde kalkunen til ham, "for det var meget vittigt sagt! eller var det måske for lavt for ham! ak, ak! han er ikke flersidig! lad os blive ved at være interessante for os selv!" og så klukkede de og ænderne snadrede, "gik, gak! gik, gak!" det var skrækkeligt hvor morsomt de selv havde det.
Men Hjalmar gik hen til hønsehuset, åbnede døren, kaldte på storken og den hoppede ud på dækket til ham; nu havde den hvilet sig og det var ligesom om den nikkede til Hjalmar for at takke ham; derpå bredte den sine vinger ud og fløj til de varme lande, men hønsene klukkede, ænderne snadrede og den kalkunske hane blev ganske ildrød i hovedet.
"I morgen skal vi koge suppe på jer!" sagde Hjalmar og så vågnede han, og lå i sin lille seng. Det var dog en forunderlig rejse Ole Lukøje havde ladet ham gøre den nat!
Torsdag
"Ved du hvad!" sagde Ole Lukøje, "Bliv nu ikke bange! her skal du se en lille mus!" og så holdt han sin hånd, med det lette, nydelige dyr, hen imod ham. "Den er kommet for at invitere dig til bryllup. Her er to små mus i nat, som vil træde ind i ægtestanden. De bor nede under din moders spisekammergulv, det skal være sådan en dejlig lejlighed!"
"Men hvor kan jeg komme gennem det lille musehul i gulvet?" spurgte Hjalmar.
"Lad mig om det!" sagde Ole Lukøje, "jeg skal nok få dig lille!" og så rørte han med sin troldsprøjte ved Hjalmar, der straks blev mindre og mindre, til sidst var han ikke så stor, som en finger. "Nu kan du låne tinsoldatens klæder, jeg tænker de kan passe og det ser så rask ud at have uniform på, når man er i selskab!"
"Ja nok!" sagde Hjalmar, og så var han i øjeblikket klædt på, som den nysseligste tinsoldat.
"Vil De ikke være så god at sætte Dem i Deres moders fingerbøl," sagde den lille mus, "så skal jeg have den ære at trække Dem!"
"Gud, skal frøkenen selv have ulejlighed!" sagde Hjalmar og så kørte de til musebryllup.
Først kom de ind under gulvet i en lang gang, der slet ikke var højere end at de netop kunne køre der med et fingerbøl, og hele gangen var illumineret med trøske.
"Lugter her ikke dejligt!" sagde musen, som trak ham, "den hele gang er blevet smurt med flæskesvær! det kan ikke være dejligere!"
Nu kom de ind i brudesalen; her stod til højre alle de små hunmus og de hviskede og tiskede, ligesom om de gjorde nar af hinanden; til venstre stod alle hanmusene og strøg sig med poten om mundskægget, men midt på gulvet så man brudeparret, de stod i en udhulet osteskorpe og kyssedes så skrækkeligt meget for alles øjne, thi de var jo forlovede og nu skal de straks have bryllup.
Der kom altid flere og flere fremmede; den ene mus var færdig at træde den anden ihjel og brudeparret havde stillet sig midt i døren, så man hverken kunne komme ud eller ind. Hele stuen var ligesom gangen smurt med flæskesvær, det var hele beværtningen, men til dessert blev der fremvist en ært, som en lille mus af familien havde bidt brudeparrets navn ind i, det vil sige det første bogstav; det var noget ganske overordentligt.
Alle musene sagde, at det var et dejligt bryllup og at konversationen havde været så god.
Og så kørte Hjalmar igen hjem; han havde rigtignok været i fornemt selskab, men han måtte også krybe ordentlig sammen, gøre sig lille og komme i tinsoldat-uniform.
Fredag
"Det er utroligt hvor mange der er af ældre folk, som gerne vil have fat på mig!" sagde Ole Lukøje, "det er især dem, som har gjort noget ondt. 'Gode lille Ole,' siger de til mig, 'vi kan ikke få øjnene i og så ligger vi hele natten og ser alle vore onde gerninger, der, som fæle små trolde, sidder på sengekanten og sprøjter os over med hedt vand, ville du dog komme og jage dem bort, at vi kan få en god søvn,' og så sukker de så dybt: 'Vi vil såmænd gerne betale: God nat Ole! pengene ligger i vinduet,' men jeg gør det ikke for penge," sagde Ole Lukøje.
"Hvad skal vi nu have for i nat?" spurgte Hjalmar.
"Ja, jeg ved ikke om du har lyst igen i nat at komme til bryllup, det er en anden slags end den i går. Din søsters store dukke, den der ser ud som et mandfolk og kaldes Herman, skal giftes med dukken Bertha, det er desuden dukkens fødselsdag og derfor skal der komme så mange presenter!"
"Ja, det kender jeg nok," sagde Hjalmar, "altid når dukkerne trænger til nye klæder så lader min søster dem have fødselsdag eller holde bryllup! det er vist sket hundred gange!"
"Ja, men i nat er brylluppet hundred og et og når hundred og et er ude, så er alt forbi! derfor bliver også dette så mageløst. Se en gang!"
Og Hjalmar så hen på bordet; der stod det lille paphus med lys i vinduerne, og alle tinsoldaterne præsenterede gevær udenfor. Brudeparret sad på gulvet og lænede sig op til bordbenet, ganske tankefuldt, og det kunne det jo have grund til. Men Ole Lukøje, iført bedstemoders sorte skørt, viede dem! da vielsen var forbi, istemte alle møblerne i stuen følgende skønne sang, der var skrevet af blyanten, den gik på melodi, som tappenstregen.
Vor sang skal komme, som en vind
til brudeparret i stuen ind;
de knejser begge, som en pind,
de er gjort' af handskeskind!
:,: Hurra, hurra! for pind og skind!
Det synger vi højt i vejr og vind!:,:
Og nu fik de presenter, men de havde frabedt sig alle spiselige ting, for de havde nok af deres kærlighed.
"Skal vi nu ligge på landet, eller rejse udenlands?" spurgte brudgommen, og så blev svalen, som havde rejst meget og den gamle gårdhøne, der fem gange havde ruget kyllinger ud, taget på råd; og svalen fortalte om de dejlige, varme lande, hvor vindruerne hang så store og tunge, hvor luften var så mild, og bjergene havde farver, som man her slet ikke kender dem!
"De har dog ikke vor grønkål!" sagde hønen. "Jeg lå en sommer med alle mine kyllinger på landet; der var en grusgrav, som vi kunne gå og skrabe i, og så havde vi adgang til en have med grønkål! Oh, hvor den var grøn! jeg kan ikke tænke mig noget kønnere."
"Men den ene kålstok ser ud ligesom den anden," sagde svalen, "og så er her tit så dårligt vejr!"
"Ja det er man vant til!" sagde hønen.
"Men her er koldt, det fryser!"
"Det har kålen godt af!" sagde hønen. "Desuden kan vi også have det varmt! havde vi ikke for fire år siden en sommer, der varede i fem uger, her var så hedt, man kunne ikke trække vejret! og så har vi ikke alle de giftige dyr, de har ude! og vi er fri for røvere! Det er et skarn, som ikke finder at vort land er det kønneste! han fortjente rigtig ikke at være her!" og så græd hønen "Jeg har også rejst! jeg har kørt i en bøtte over tolv mil! der er slet ingen fornøjelse ved at rejse!"
"Ja hønen er en fornuftig kone!" sagde dukken Bertha, "jeg holder heller ikke af at rejse på bjerge, for det er kun op og så er det ned! nej, vi vil flytte ud ved grusgraven og spadsere i kålhaven!"
Og derved blev det.
Lørdag
"Får jeg nu historier!" sagde den lille Hjalmar, så snart Ole Lukøje havde fået ham i søvn.
"I aften har vi ikke tid til det," sagde Ole og spændte sin smukkeste paraply over ham. "Se nu på disse kinesere!" og hele paraplyen så ud som en stor kinesisk skål med blå træer og spidse broer med små kinesere på, der stod og nikkede med hovedet. "Vi skal have hele verden pudset kønt op til i morgen," sagde Ole, "det er jo da en hellig dag, det er søndag. Jeg skal hen i kirketårnene for at se, om de små kirkenisser polerer klokkerne, at de kan lyde smukt, jeg skal ud på marken, og se om vindene blæser støvet af græs og blade, og hvad der er det største arbejde, jeg skal have alle stjernerne ned for at polere dem af; jeg tager dem i mit forklæde, men først må hver nummereres og hullerne, hvor de sidder deroppe, må nummereres, at de kan komme på deres rette pladser igen, ellers vil de ikke sidde fast og vi får for mange stjerneskud, i det den ene dratter efter den anden!"
"Hør, ved de hvad hr. Lukøje!" sagde et gammelt portræt, som hang på væggen hvor Hjalmar sov, "jeg er Hjalmars oldefader: De skal have tak fordi De fortæller drengen historier, men De må ikke forvilde hans begreber. Stjernerne kan ikke tages ned og poleres! Stjernerne er kloder ligesom vor jord og det er just det gode ved dem!"
"Tak skal du have, du gamle oldefader!" sagde Ole Lukøje, "Tak skal du have! Du er jo hovedet for familien, du er 'olde'-hovedet! men jeg er ældre, end du! jeg er gammel hedning, romerne og grækerne kaldte mig drømmeguden! jeg er kommet i de fornemste huse og kommer der endnu! jeg forstår at omgås både med små og store! Nu kan du fortælle!" og så gik Ole Lukøje og tog paraplyen med.
"Nu tør man nok ikke mere sige sin mening!" sagde det gamle portræt.
Og så vågnede Hjalmar.
Søndag
"God aften!" sagde Ole Lukøje og Hjalmar nikkede, men sprang så hen og vendte oldefaderens portræt om mod væggen, at det ikke skulle snakke med, ligesom i går.
"Nu skal du fortælle mig historier, om 'de fem grønne ærter', der boede i en ærtebælg, og om 'haneben der gjorde kur til høneben', og om 'stoppenålen, der var så fin på det, at hun bildte sig ind hun var en synål'!"
"Man kan også få for meget af det gode!" sagde Ole Lukøje, "jeg vil helst vise dig noget, ved du nok! jeg vil vise dig min broder, han hedder også Ole Lukøje, men han kommer aldrig til nogen mere end én gang og når han kommer, tager han dem med på sin hest og fortæller dem historier; han kan kun to, en der er så mageløs dejlig, at ingen i verden kan tænke sig den, og en der er så fæl og gruelig ja det er ikke til at beskrive!" og så løftede Ole Lukøje den lille Hjalmar op i vinduet og sagde, "der skal du se min broder, den anden Ole Lukøje! de kalder ham også Døden! ser du, han ser slet ikke slem ud, som i billedbøgerne, hvor han er ben og knokler! nej, det er sølvbroderi han har på kjolen: Det er den dejligste husar-uniform! en kappe af sort fløjl flyver bag ud over hesten! se hvor han rider i galop."
Og Hjalmar så, hvordan dén Ole Lukøje red af sted og tog både unge og gamle folk op på hesten, nogle satte han for på og andre satte han bag på, men altid spurgte han først, "hvorledes står det med karakterbogen?" - "Godt!" sagde de alle sammen; "ja lad mig selv se!" sagde han, og så måtte de vise ham bogen; og alle de som havde "Meget godt" og "Udmærket godt" kom for på hesten og fik den dejlige historie at høre, men de som havde "Temmeligt godt" og "Mådeligt" de måtte bag på, og fik den fæle historie; de rystede og græd, de ville springe af hesten, men kunne det slet ikke, thi de var lige straks vokset fast til den.
"Men Døden er jo den dejligste Ole Lukøje!" sagde Hjalmar, "ham er jeg ikke bange for!"
"Det skal du heller ikke!" sagde Ole Lukøje, "se bare til at du har en god karakterbog!"
"Ja det er lærerigt!" mumlede oldefaderens portræt, "det hjælper dog, man siger sin mening!" og så var han fornøjet.
Se, det er historien om Ole Lukøje! nu kan han selv i aften fortælle dig noget mere!