She too saw the golden swan, the
bird of fortune, as it rose from among the reeds on the shore. What was
it that glittered so? A golden egg that was still quite warm. She laid
it in her bosom, and the warmth remained. Surely there was life in the
egg! She heard the gentle pecking inside the shell, but she thought it
was her own heart that was beating. "At home in her poor cottage she took out the egg. 'Tick! tick!' it
said, as if it had been a gold watch, but it was not; it was an egg--a
real, living egg. "The egg cracked and opened, and a dear little baby swan, all feathered
as with the purest gold, pushed out its tiny head. Around its neck were
four rings, and as this woman had four boys--three at home, and this
little one that was with her in the lonely wood--she understood at once
that there was one for each boy. Just as she had taken them the little
gold bird took flight. "She kissed each ring, then made each of the children kiss one of the
rings, laid it next the child's heart awhile, then put it on his finger. I saw it all," said the Sunshine, "and I saw what happened afterward. [Illustration: The egg cracked and opened....]

"One of the boys, while playing by a ditch, took a lump of clay in his
hand, then turned and twisted it till it took shape and was like
Jason, who went in search of the Golden Fleece and found it. "The second boy ran out upon the meadow, where stood the
flowers--flowers of all imaginable colors. He gathered a handful and
squeezed them so tightly that the juice flew into his eyes, and some of
it wet the ring upon his hand. It cribbled and crawled in his brain and
in his hands, and after many a day and many a year, people in the great
city talked of the famous painter that he was. "The third child held the ring in his teeth, and so tightly that it gave
forth sound--the echo of a song in the depth of his heart. Then thoughts
and feelings rose in beautiful sounds,--rose like singing
swans,--plunged, too, like swans, into the deep, deep sea. He became a
great musical composer, a master, of whom every country has the right to
say, 'He was mine, for he was the world's.' "And the fourth little one--yes, he was the 'ugly duck' of the family. They said he had the pip and must eat pepper and butter like a sick
chicken, and that was what was given him; but of me he got a warm, sunny
kiss," said the Sunshine. "He had ten kisses for one. He was a poet and
was first kissed, then buffeted all his life through. "But he held what no one could take from him--the ring of fortune from
Dame Fortune's golden swan. His thoughts took wing and flew up and away
like singing butterflies--emblems of an immortal life." "That was a dreadfully long story," said the Wind. "And so stupid and tiresome," said the Rain. "Blow upon me, please, that
I may revive a little." And while the Wind blew, the Sunshine said: "The swan of fortune flew
over the lovely bay where the fishermen had set their nets. The very
poorest one among them was wishing to marry--and marry he did. "To him the swan brought a piece of amber. Amber draws things toward
itself, and this piece drew hearts to the house where the fisherman
lived with his bride. Amber is the most wonderful of incense, and there
came a soft perfume, as from a holy place, a sweet breath from
beautiful nature, that God has made. And the fisherman and his wife were
happy and grateful in their peaceful home, content even in their
poverty. And so their life became a real Sunshine Story." "I think we had better stop now," said the Wind. "I am dreadfully bored. The Sunshine has talked long enough." "I think so, too," said the Rain. And what do we others who have heard the story say? We say, "Now the story's done." [Illustration]




THE DARNING-NEEDLE


THERE was once a Darning-needle who thought herself so fine that she
came at last to believe that she was fit for embroidery. "Mind now that you hold me fast," she said to the Fingers that took her
up. "Pray don't lose me. If I should fall on the ground I should
certainly be lost, I am so fine." "That's more than you can tell," said the Fingers, as they grasped her
tightly by the waist. "I come with a train, you see," said the Darning-needle, as she drew her
long thread after her; but there was no knot in the thread. The Fingers pressed the point of the Needle upon an old pair of
slippers, in which the upper leather had burst and must be sewed
together. The slippers belonged to the cook. "This is very coarse work!" said the Darning-needle. "I shall never get
through alive. There, I'm breaking! I'm breaking!" and break she did. "Did I not say so?" said the Darning-needle. "I'm too delicate for such
work as that." "Now it's quite useless for sewing," said the Fingers; but they still
held her all the same, for the cook presently dropped some melted
sealing wax upon the needle and then pinned her neckerchief in front
with it. "See, now I'm a breastpin," said the Darning-needle. "I well knew that I
should come to honor; when one is something, one always comes to
something. Merit is sure to rise." And at this she laughed, only
inwardly, of course, for one can never see when a Darning-needle laughs. There she sat now, quite at her ease, and as proud as if she sat in a
state carriage and gazed upon all about her. "May I take the liberty to ask if you are made of gold?" she asked of
the pin, her neighbor. "You have a splendid appearance and quite a
remarkable head, though it is so little. You should do what you can to
grow--of course it is not every one that can have sealing wax dropped
upon her." And the Darning-needle drew herself up so proudly that she fell out of
the neckerchief into the sink, which the cook was at that moment
rinsing. "Now I'm going to travel," said the Darning-needle, "if only I don't get
lost." But that was just what happened to her. "I'm too delicate for this world," she said, as she found herself in the
gutter. "But I know who I am, and there is always some little pleasure
in that!" It was thus that the Darning-needle kept up her proud bearing
and lost none of her good humor. And now all sorts of things swam over
her--chips and straws and scraps of old newspapers. "Only see how they sail along," said the Darning-needle to herself. "They little know what is under them, though it is I, and I sit firmly
here. See! there goes a chip! It thinks of nothing in the world but
itself--of nothing in the world but a chip! There floats a straw; see
how it turns and twirls about. Do think of something besides yourself or
you may easily run against a stone. There swims a bit of a newspaper. What's written upon it is forgotten long ago, yet how it spreads itself
out and gives itself airs! I sit patiently and quietly here! I know what
I am, and I shall remain the same--always." One day there lay something beside her that glittered splendidly. She
thought it must be a diamond, but it was really only a bit of broken
glass from a bottle.