informed him how far the moon's rays would reach, and from which
side the wind generally blew, and so on.

On the bridge over the canal stood three persons who wished to recommend
themselves to the lamp, for they thought it could give the office to
whomsoever it chose. The first was a herring's head, which could emit
light in the darkness. He remarked that it would be a great saving of
oil if they placed him on the lamp-post. Number two was a piece of
rotten wood, which also shines in the dark. He considered himself
descended from an old stem, once the pride of the forest. The third was
a glowworm, and how he found his way there the lamp could not imagine;
yet there he was, and could really give light as well as the others. But
the rotten wood and the herring's head declared most solemnly, by all
they held sacred, that the glowworm only gave light at certain times and
must not be allowed to compete with them. The old lamp assured them that
not one of them could give sufficient light to fill the position of a
street lamp, but they would believe nothing that it said. When they
discovered that it had not the power of naming its successor, they said
they were very glad to hear it, for the lamp was too old and worn out to
make a proper choice.

At this moment the wind came rushing round the corner of the street and
through the air-holes of the old lamp. "What is this I hear?" it asked.
"Are you going away to-morrow? Is this evening the last time we shall
meet? Then I must present you with a farewell gift. I will blow into
your brain, so that in future not only shall you be able to remember all
that you have seen or heard in the past, but your light within shall be
so bright that you will be able to understand all that is said or done
in your presence."

"Oh, that is really a very, very great gift," said the old lamp. "I
thank you most heartily. I only hope I shall not be melted down."

"That is not likely to happen yet," said the wind. "I will also blow a
memory into you, so that, should you receive other similar presents,
your old age will pass very pleasantly."

"That is, if I am not melted down," said the lamp. "But should I, in
that case, still retain my memory?"

"Do be reasonable, old lamp," said the wind, puffing away.

At this moment the moon burst forth from the clouds. "What will you give
the old lamp?" asked the wind.

"I can give nothing," she replied. "I am on the wane, and no lamps have
ever given me