f him.

And the days went by, in life as in dreams!

Not a hair of his head had been hurt, not a golden hair.

"Drum-ma-rum! drum-ma-rum! there he is!" the Drum might have said,
and his mother might have sung, if she had seen or dreamt it.

With hurrah and song, adorned with green wreaths of victory,
they came home, as the war was at an end, and peace had been signed.
The dog of the regiment sprang on in front with large bounds, and made
the way three times as long for himself as it really was.

And days and weeks went by, and Peter came into his parents' room.
He was as brown as a wild man, and his eyes were bright, and his
face beamed like sunshine. And his mother held him in her arms; she
kissed his lips, his forehead, and his red hair. She had her boy
back again; he had not a silver cross on his breast, as his father had
dreamt, but he had sound limbs, a thing the mother had not dreamt. And
what a rejoicing was there! They laughed and they wept; and Peter
embraced the old Fire-drum.

"There stands the old skeleton still!" he said.

And the father beat a roll upon it.

"One would think that a great fire had broken out here," said
the Fire-drum. "Bright day! fire in the heart! golden treasure! skrat!
skr-r-at! skr-r-r-r-at!"

And what then? What then!--Ask the town musician.

"Peter's far outgrowing the drum," he said. "Peter will be greater
than I."

And yet he was the son of a royal plate-washer; but all that he
had learned in half a lifetime, Peter learned in half a year.

There was something so merry about him, something so truly
kind-hearted. His eyes gleamed, and his hair gleamed too--there was no
denying that!

"He ought to have his hair dyed," said the neighbor's wife.
"That answered capitally with the policeman's daughter, and she got
a husband."

"But her hair turned as green as duckweed, and was always having
to be colored up."

"She knows how to manage for herself," said the neighbors, "and so
can Peter. He comes to the most genteel houses, even to the
burgomaster's where he gives Miss Charlotte piano-forte lessons."

He could play! He could play, fresh out of his heart, the most
charming pieces, that had never been put upon music-paper. He played
in the bright nights, and in the dark nights, too. The neighbors
declared it was unbearable, and the Fire-drum was of the same opinion.

He played until his thoughts soared up, and burst forth in great
plans for the future:

"To be fa