"Cluck, cluck, cluck!" cried a hen, as she crept towards him. (She came
from the town of Kjöge.) "I'm a Kjöge hen," she said. And then she told
him how many inhabitants the little town contained, and about the battle
that had once been fought there, and how it was now hardly worth
mentioning, there were so many greater things. [Illustration: All in a moment he was on horseback, and on he went,
gallop, gallop!] Scratch, scratch! kribbley crabbley! and now a great wooden bird jumped
down upon the bed. It was the popinjay from the shooting ground at
Præstö. He had reckoned the number of inhabitants in Præstö, and found
that there were as many as he had nails in his body. He was a proud
bird. "Thorwaldsen lived in one corner of Præstö, close by me. Am I not
a pretty bird, a merry popinjay?" And now little Tuk no longer lay in bed. All in a moment he was on
horseback, and on he went, gallop, gallop! A splendid knight, with a
bright helmet and waving plume,--a knight of the olden time,--held him
on his own horse; and on they rode together, through the wood of the
ancient city of Vordingborg, and it was once again a great and busy
town. The high towers of the king's castle rose against the sky, and
bright lights were seen gleaming through the windows. Within were music
and merrymaking. King Waldemar was leading out the noble ladies of his
court to dance with him. Suddenly the morning dawned, the lamps grew pale, the sun rose, the
outlines of the buildings faded away, and at last one high tower alone
remained to mark the spot where the royal castle had stood. The vast
city had shrunk into a poor, mean-looking little town. The schoolboys,
coming out of school with their geography-books under their arms, said,
"Two thousand inhabitants"; but that was a mere boast, for the town had
not nearly so many. And little Tuk lay in his bed. He knew not whether he had been dreaming
or not, but again there was some one close by his side. "Little Tuk! little Tuk!" cried a voice; it was the voice of a young
sailor boy. "I am come to bring you greeting from Korsör. Korsör is a
new town, a living town, with steamers and mail coaches. Once people
used to call it a low, ugly place, but they do so no longer. "'I dwell by the seaside,' says Korsör; 'I have broad highroads and
pleasure gardens; and I have given birth to a poet, a witty one, too,
which is more than all poets are. I once thought of sending a ship all
round the world; but I did not do it, though I might as well have done
so. I dwell so pleasantly, close by the port; and I am fragrant with
perfume, for the loveliest roses bloom round about me, close to my
gates.'" And little Tuk could smell the roses and see them and their fresh green
leaves. But in a moment they had vanished; the green leaves spread and
thickened--a perfect grove had grown up above the bright waters of the
bay, and above the grove rose the two high-pointed towers of a glorious
old church. From the side of the grass-grown hill gushed a fountain in
rainbow-hued streams, with a merry, musical voice, and close beside it
sat a king, wearing a gold crown upon his long dark hair. This was King
Hroar of the springs; and hard by was the town of Roskilde (Hroar's
Fountain). And up the hill, on a broad highway, went all the kings and
queens of Denmark, wearing golden crowns; hand in hand they passed on
into the church, and the deep music of the organ mingled with the clear
rippling of the fountain. For nearly all the kings and queens of Denmark
lie buried in this beautiful church. And little Tuk saw and heard it
all. "Don't forget the towns," said King Hroar. Then all vanished; though where it went he knew not. It seemed like
turning the leaves of a book. And now there stood before him an old peasant woman from Sorö, the quiet
little town where grass grows in the very market place. Her green linen
apron was thrown over her head and back, and the apron was very wet, as
if it had been raining heavily. "And so it has," she said. And she told a great many pretty things from
Holberg's comedies, and recited ballads about Waldemar and Absalon; for
Holberg had founded an academy in her native town. All at once she cowered down and rocked her head as if she were a frog
about to spring. "Koax!" cried she; "it is wet, it is always wet, and it
is as still as the grave in Sorö." She had changed into a frog. "Koax!" and again she was an old woman. "One must dress according to the
weather," she said. "It is wet! it is wet! My native town is like a bottle; one goes in at
the cork, and by the cork one must come out. In old times we had the
finest of fish; now we have fresh, rosy-cheeked boys at the bottom of
the bottle. There they learn wisdom--Greek, Greek, and Hebrew! Koax!" It sounded exactly as if frogs were croaking, or as if some one were
walking over the great swamp with heavy boots. So tiresome was her tone,
all on the same note, that little Tuk fell fast asleep; and a very good
thing it was for him. But even in sleep there came a dream, or whatever else it may be called. His little sister Gustava, with her blue eyes and flaxen ringlets, was
grown into a tall, beautiful girl, who, though she had no wings, could
fly; and away they now flew over Seeland--over its green woods and blue
waters. "Hark! Do you hear the cock crow, little Tuk? 'Cock-a-doodle-do!' The
fowls are flying hither from Kjöge, and you shall have a farmyard, a
great, great poultry yard of your own! You shall never suffer hunger or
want. The golden goose, the bird of good omen, shall be yours; you shall
become a rich and happy man. Your house shall rise up like King
Waldemar's towers and be richly decked with statues like those of
Thorwaldsen at Præstö. "Understand me well; your good name shall be borne round the world, like
the ship that was to sail from Korsör, and at Roskilde you shall speak
and give counsel wisely and well, little Tuk, like King Hroar; and when
at last you shall lie in your peaceful grave you shall sleep as
quietly--"

"As if I lay sleeping in Sorö," said Tuk, and he woke. It was a bright
morning, and he could not remember his dream, but it was not necessary
that he should. One has no need to know what one will live to see. And now he sprang quickly out of bed and sought his book, that had lain
under his pillow. He read his lesson and found that he knew the towns
perfectly well. And the old washerwoman put her head in at the door and said, with a
friendly nod: "Thank you, my good child, for yesterday's help. May the
Lord fulfill your brightest and most beautiful dreams! I know he will." Little Tuk had forgotten what he had dreamed, but it did not matter. There was One above who knew it all. [Illustration]




THE UGLY DUCKLING


IT was so beautiful in the country. It was the summer time. The wheat
fields were golden, the oats were green, and the hay stood in great
stacks in the green meadows.