over, and to
make a shelf for the kitchen pots and pans. And the paved street now
covers the resting-place of old Preben and his wife, and nobody thinks
of them any more."

And the old man who related all this shook his head sadly. "Forgotten!
All things are forgotten!"

And the rest began to speak of other matters; but the youngest boy, a
child with large, grave eyes, crept up on a chair behind the curtains,
and looked out into the yard, where the moon shone brightly on the big
stone that before had seemed to him flat and uninteresting enough, but
now had become to him like a page of a large-sized story-book. For all
that the boy had heard concerning Preben and his wife, the stone seemed
to contain within it; and he looked first at the stone, and then at the
brilliant moon, which looked to him like a bright kind face looking down
through the pure still air upon the earth.

"Forgotten! all shall be forgotten!" these words came to his ears from
the room; but at that very moment an invisible angel kissed the boy's
forehead and softly whispered, "Keep the seed carefully, keep it till
the time for ripening. Through thee, child as thou art, shall the
half-erased inscription, the crumbling gravestone, stand out in clear,
legible characters for generations to come! Through thee shall the old
couple again walk arm-in-arm through the ancient gateways, and sit with
smiling faces on the bench under the lime tree, greeting rich and poor.
The good and the beautiful perish never; they live eternally in tale and
song."

"GOOD-FOR-NOTHING"

By HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

The sheriff stood at the open window; he wore ruffles, and a dainty
breastpin decorated the front of his shirt; he was neatly shaven, and a
tiny little strip of sticking-plaster covered the little cut he had
given himself during the process. "Well, my little man?" quoth he.

The "little man" was no other than the laundress's son, who respectfully
took off his cap in passing. His cap was broken in the rim, and adapted
to be put into the pocket on occasion; his clothes were poor, but clean,
and very neatly mended, and he wore heavy wooden shoes. He stood still
when the sheriff spoke, as respectfully as though he stood before the
king.

"Ah, you're a good boy, a well-behaved boy!" said the sheriff. "And so
your mother is washing down at the river; _she_ isn't good for much. And
you're going to her, I see. Ah, poor child!--well, you may go."

And the boy p