The most beautiful stories of Andersen
H.C. Andersen (Page 2)
30The goblin and the woman
You know the Goblin, but do you know the Woman-the Gardener's wife? She was very well read and knew poems by heart; yes, and she could write them, too, easily, except that the rhymes-clinchings, as she called them-gave her a little trouble. She had the gift of writing and the gift of speech; she could very well have been a parson or at least a parson's wife. The earth is beautiful in her Sunday gown, she said, and this thought she had expanded and set down in poetic form, with clinchings, making a poem that was so long and lovely. The Assistant Schoolmaster, Mr. Kisserup (not that his name matRead the story →
31The girl who trod on the loaf
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, or a little scrap of paper towards their feet, and when the poor creatures would seize it and hold it fast, and tRead the story → 33The angel
Whenever a good child dies, an angel of God comes down from heaven, takes the dead child in his arms, spread out his great white wings, and flies with him over all the places which the child had loved during his life. Then h gathers a large handful of flowers, which he carries up to the Almighty, that they may bloom more brightly i heaven than they do on earth. And the Almighty presses the flowers to His heart, but He kisses the flower tha 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 aRead the story → 34The storks
On the last house in a little village the storks had built a nest, and the mother stork sat in it with her four young ones, who stretched out their necks and pointed their black beaks, which had not yet turned red like those of the parent birds. A little way off, on the edge of the roof, stood the father stork, quite upright and stiff; not liking to be quite idle, he drew up one leg, and stood on the other, so still that it seemed almost as if he were carved in wood. It must look very grand, thought he, for my wife to have a sentry guarding her nest. They do not know that I am her husband; theRead the story → 36Ole-Luk-Oie, the Dream-God
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 veRead the story → 37The snowman
It is so delightfully cold, said the Snow Man, that it makes my whole body crackle. This is just the kind of wind to blow life into one. How that great red thing up there is staring at me! He meant the sun, who was just setting. It shall not make me wink. I shall manage to keep the pieces. He had two triangular pieces of tile in his head, instead of eyes; his mouth was made of an old broken rake, and was, of course, furnished with teeth. He had been brought into existence amidst the joyous shouts of boys, the jingling of sleigh-bells, and the slashing of whips. The sun went down, and the fullRead the story → 47"Something"
I mean to be somebody, and do something useful in the world, said the eldest of five brothers. I don't care how humble my position is, so that I can only do some good, which will be something. I intend to be a brickmaker; bricks are always wanted, and I shall be really doing something. Your 'something' is not enough for me, said the second brother; what you talk of doing is nothing at all, it is journeyman's work, or might even be done by a machine. No! I should prefer to be a builder at once, there is something real in that. A man gains a position, he becomes a citizen, has his own sign, hisRead the story →
