Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-03-12

Danish novelist and story-writer. famous
m s9s his fairy tales 1 Sdsh as Lille
Steadfast Tin Soldier" etcD
The Butterfly was looking out for a
bride, and naturally he wished to select
a nice one among the flowers. He looked
at them, sitting so quietly and dis
creetly upon their stems, as damsel
generally sits when she is not engaged;
but there were SO many to choose
among, that it became quite a diff
cult matter. The Butterfly did not
relish encountering difficulties. so in his
perpexity he flew to the Daisy. She is
called Marguerite in France. He knew
that she could "spae," and that she did
so often; for lovers plucked leaf after
ton asked respecting the beloved:
rs it true love?" From the hearth"
Love that pines?" cold love?" None
at alp" Or some such questions.
Every one asks in his own language.
The Butterfly came too, to put his
questions; he did not, however. pluck
off the petals, but kissed them all, one
by one. with the hope of getting good
answer.
sweet Marguerite Daisy" said he
you are the wiseSt wife among all the
flowers; you know how to predict events.
Tell me, shall I get this one or that?
Or whom shall get? When I know I
can fly straight to the fair one, and
commence wooing her" -,
But Marguerite the Daisy would
scarcely answer him; she was vexed at
his calling her wife" He asked sec
ond time. and he asked third time.
but he could not get word out OF her;
~ fob tho trnlihIp IN
ask any more, but flew away without
further ado on his matrimonial GRAND.
It was in the early Spring, and there
were plenty OF snowdrops and Gro
cuses.
They are very nice looking" said the
Butterfly, charming little things, but
somewhat too juvenile"
He, like most every young man, pre-
ferred elder girls. Thereupon he flew
to the Anemones, but they were rather
too bashful for him: the Violets were
too enthusiastic; the Tulips were too
fond of show; the Jonquils were too
plebian: small, and they had too large
a family connection; the Apple blossoms
were certainly as lovely as roses to look
at, but they stood today and fell off to-
morrow, as the wind blew. 1t would
not be worth while to enter into we'd
lock for so short time, as he thought
The Sweet-pea was the one that pleased
him most; she was pink and white, she
was pure and delicate, and belonged
to that class of notable girls who al
ways look we'll, yet can make them
selves useful in the kitchen. He was
on the point of making an offer TO her,
when at that moment he observed
pea-pod hanging close by, with a
withered flower at the end of 1t.
who is that?" he asked.
MY sister," replied the Sweet-pea.
Indeed! Then you will probably
come to look like her, bye and bye"
screamed the Butterfly. as he flew on:
The Honeysuckles hung over the
hedge: they were extremely ladylike.
compilations. They were not to his
taste. But who was too his taste? Ay!
ask him that.
The Spring had passed, the Summer
had passed, and Autumn was passing
too. The flowers were still clad in bril-
liant robes, but, alas! the fresh fra
GRANGE of youth was gone. Fragrance
was a great attraction to him, though
no longer young himself, and there was
none to be found among the Dahlias
and Hollyhocks.
So the Butterfly stopped down to the
Wild Thyme.
She has scarcely any blossom, but
she is altogether flower herself, and
all fragrance-every leafiet is full Of 1t.
I will take her"
So he began to WOO forthwith.
But the Wild Thyme stood stiff and
still, and at length she said:
Friendship! But nothing more. I
am old, and you are old We may very
well live for each other, but marry-no!
Let us not make fools of ourselves in
our old age!"
So the Butterfly got no one. He had
been too long on the lookout, apd
that one should not be. The Butter
fly became an old bachelor, as it is
called.
1t was late in the Autumn, and there
was nothing but drizzling rain and
pouring rain; the wind blew coldly on
the old willow trees till the leaves shiv-
cred and the branches cracked. It was
80