The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1863-03-19
Sans Christian Andersen.

Slams Christian Andersen.
I. Ross Browne, on his way to Iceland, Wis
tied the well known writer, IIans Christian
Andersen, He gives the following highly in
t~eresting account of the interview +
Come inI Come iii y" he said, in gush
Of broken English. Come in and sit down.
You are very welcome! Thank you, thank
you very much! am very glad to see you!
it is a rare thing te meet a traveller all the
way from Ca~lifornia-quite a surprise! Sit
down! Thank you!"
And then followed a variety Of friendly com
pliments and remarks about the Americans.
He liked them. lie was sorry they were 50
unfortunate as to be engaged III a civil war,
but hoped it would soon be over. Did i speak
French be added after a pause, Not very
well.
'Or German ~
"StiIl worse was my answer,
s"Nhat a pity =" he exclaimed at must
trouble you to understand my English |
speak it 50 badIyl 1t is only within a few
years that have learned to speak it at all"
Of course [ eompIimented him upon his
English, which was really better thon had
been led to suspect.
sCan you understand it ?' he asked, looking
earnestly in my face.
Certainly !" l answered, quickly, almost
every word.
%, thank you! thank! You are very
good! ~ he cried, grasping me by the hand
Il am very much obliged to you for under
standing me"
| naturally thanked him for being obliged
to me, and we shook hands cordially, and
mutually thanked one another over and over
again for being so amiable. The conversation,
if such it could be called, flew from subject to
subject with a rapidity that almost took my
breath away. The great mprovlsator dashed
recklcssly into every American traveller, but,
with the difficulty Of his utterance i'll English,
and the absence of any knowledge on his part
of my name or history, it was evident he was
a little embarrassed in what way to oblige Inc
most and the trouble on my side was, that
[ was too busy listening to find time for talk
ing.
Dear! Dear! Are you going to Iceland ?'
he continued. "a long way from California.
Iwould like to visit America, but it is very
dangerous to travel by sea. A vessel was
burned up not long since, and many Of my
friends were lost. 1t was a very dreadful af-
fair!'
In looking over his collection of books, |
said that knew at least, half-a-dozen young
sters who were as well acquainted with the
Little Match Girl, y and the Ugly Duck, -
and the Poor Idiot Boy as he was himself ;
and his name was as familiar in California as
it was in Denmark. At this he grasped both
my hands, and, and, looking straight into my
face with a kind of ~ecstatic expression, said ::
oh! Is it possible? Do they really read
my books in California 4? SO far away! Oh. |
thank you very much ! Some of my stories,
| ann aware, have been published in New York,
but | did not think they had found their way
to the Pacific coast. Dear me thank you {!
Have you seen my last-the-what do you
call it in English "a little ANIMAL
'tMouse." [ suggested,
'rNo; not a mouse, but "a little animal with
wings"
oh, a bat"
NAY, nay! A little animal with wings
and many legs. Dear me 4! l forgot the
name in English; but you certainly know it in
America very small ANIMAL
In vain | tried to make a selection from all
the little animals of my acquaintance with
wings and many legs. The case was getting
both embarrassing and veXatious. At length
u light broke upon me.
"A musquito!" exclaimed, t~riumphantly.
Nay, nay.'' cried the bothered poet "a
little animal with a hard skin on its back
Dear me, | can't remember the name
ooh, have it now" said |, really DESTROYS
of relieving his mind-'a flea
At this time the great improvisotor scratch
ed his head, looked at the ceiling and then at
the floor, after which he took several rapid
strides up and down the room, and struck
himself repeatedly on the forehead. Sudden
" grasping up a pen,h he exclaimed somewhat
energetically
Here! I'll draw it for you. - and forth
with he drew Oh a scrap Of paper a singular
looking diagram.
"A tumble bug." | shouted, astonished al
my former stupidity.
The poet looked puzzled and distressed
Evidently, had not yet succeeded. What
could it be =?
a beetle p Inext ventured to suggest,
rather disappointed at the result of my pre-
vious guess.
"A beetle! a beetle that's it; now l re
mendoza beetle! and the delighted author
Of THE Beetle patted me approvingly on the
back and chuekled g~leetully at his own adroit
method of explanation. 'IIl give you ''Ihe
Beetle" he said; 'you shall nave the only
copy III my possession. But you don't read
Danish! What are we to do? There is a par
tiaI translation in Freuch-a mere notice.
NO matter" l answered; a specimen Of
the Danish language viii be very acceptable,
and the book will be a pleasant souvenir OF
my visit,
He then started into the next room, tumbled
over a dozen piles Of books; then out again,
then ransacked the desks and drawers, and
heaps Of old paper and rubbish-taIing nj
the while in his joyous, CHEEKY way about his
books and his travels in Jutland, and his visit
to Charles Dickens, and his intended Journey
through Spain, and his delight at meeting a
traveller al the way from California, anC
Whatever else came into his head all in sucl
mixed-up broken English, that the meauina
must have been utterly lost but for the won
derfuI expressiveness of his face and the strik
ing oddly of his motions. 1t came to m,
mesmericaIIy. He seemed like n who glow.
ed all over with bright and happy thoughts
which ~permeated all around HIM with a new
intelligence. His presence shed a light upor
others ike the rays that beamed from the eye:
of Little Sunshine
The book was found at last, and when he