chman's house. He had
begged, as a favor, that the mayor and corporation would allow him
to keep the street lamp, in consideration of his long and faithful
service, as he had himself hung it up and lit it on the day he first
commenced his duties, four-and-twenty years ago. He looked upon it
almost as his own child; he had no children, so the lamp was given
to him. There it lay in the great arm-chair near to the warm stove. It
seemed almost as if it had grown larger, for it appeared quite to fill
the chair. The old people sat at their supper, casting friendly
glances at the old lamp, whom they would willingly have admitted to
a place at the table. It is quite true that they dwelt in a cellar,
two yards deep in the earth, and they had to cross a stone passage
to get to their room, but within it was warm and comfortable and
strips of list had been nailed round the door. The bed and the
little window had curtains, and everything looked clean and neat. On
the window seat stood two curious flower-pots which a sailor, named
Christian, had brought over from the East or West Indies. They were of
clay, and in the form of two elephants, with open backs; they were
hollow and filled with earth, and through the open space flowers
bloomed. In one grew some very fine chives or leeks; this was the
kitchen garden. The other elephant, which contained a beautiful
geranium, they called their flower garden. On the wall hung a large
colored print, representing the congress of Vienna, and all the
kings and emperors at once. A clock, with heavy weights, hung on the
wall and went "tick, tick," steadily enough; yet it was always
rather too fast, which, however, the old people said was better than
being too slow. They were now eating their supper, while the old
street lamp, as we have heard, lay in the grandfather's arm-chair near
the stove. It seemed to the lamp as if the whole world had turned
round; but after a while the old watchman looked at the lamp, and
spoke of what they had both gone through together,--in rain and in
fog; during the short bright nights of summer, or in the long winter
nights, through the drifting snow-storms, when he longed to be at home
in the cellar. Then the lamp felt it was all right again. He saw
everything that had happened quite clearly, as if it were passing
before him. Surely the wind had given him an excellent gift. The old
people were very active and industrious, they were never idle for even
a single hour. On