t; but at that
moment he heard what had been said, and it was enough to make him very
sad. Not one shilling had his parents at home to spare. They were not
able to set up a newspaper, to say nothing of writing for one. And the
worse was yet to come; for his father's name, and of course also his
own name, certainly ended in "sen." He, therefore, could never become
anybody in this world. This was very disheartening. Though he felt
assured that he was _born_, it was impossible to think otherwise.

This was what passed that evening.

* * * * *

Several years had elapsed, and during their course the children had
grown up to be men and women.

There stood in the town a handsome house, which was filled with
magnificent objects of art. Every one went to see it. Even people who
lived at a distance came to town to see it. Which prodigy, among the
children we have spoken of, could call that edifice his or hers? It is
easy to tell that. No; it is not so easy, after all. That house
belonged to the poor little boy, who became somebody, although his
name _did_ end in "sen."--THORWALDSEN!

And the three other children--the children of high birth, money, and
literary arrogance? Well; there is nothing to be said about them. They
are all alike. They grew up to be all very respectable, comfortable,
and commonplace. They were well-meaning people. What they had formerly
said and thought was only--CHILDREN'S PRATTLE.

_A Row of Pearls._

I.

The railroad in Denmark extends no farther as yet than from Copenhagen
to Korsoer. It is a row of pearls. Europe has a wealth of these. Its
most costly pearls are named Paris, London, Vienna, Naples; though
many a one does not point out these great cities as his most beautiful
pearl, but, on the contrary, names some small, by no means remarkable
town, for it is _his_ home--the home where those he loves reside. Nay,
sometimes it is but a country-seat--a small cottage hidden among green
hedges--a mere spot that he hastens towards, while the railway train
rushes on.

How many pearls are there upon the line from Copenhagen to Korsoer? We
will say six. Most people must remark these. Old remembrances and
poetry itself bestow a radiance on these pearls, so that they shine in
on our thoughts.

Near the rising ground where the palace of Frederick VI. stands--the
home of Ochlenschlaeger's childhood--shines, under the lee of
Sondermarken's woody ground, one of the