the roots. This was very painful, you may be
sure.

Then the flax was laid in water and was nearly drowned. After that it
was put on a fire and nearly roasted. All this was frightful. But the
flax only said, "One cannot be happy always. By having bad times as well
as good, we become wise."

After the flax had been cut and steeped and roasted, it was put on a
spinning wheel. "Whir-r-r, whir-rr-r," went the spinning wheel; it went
so fast that the flax could hardly think.

"I have been very happy in the sunshine and the rain," it said. "If I am
in pain now, I must be contented."

At last the flax was put in the loom. Soon it became a beautiful piece
of white linen.

"This is very wonderful," said the flax. "How foolish the fence post was
with its song of--

'Snip, snap, snurre,
Basse, lurre,
The song is ended.'

The song is not ended, I am sure. It has only just begun.

"After all that I have suffered, I am at last made into beautiful linen.
How strong and fine I am, and how long and white! This is even better
than being a plant bearing flowers. I have never been happier than I am
now."

After some time the linen was cut into pieces and sewed with needles.
That was not pleasant; but at last there were twelve pretty white
aprons.

"See," said the flax, "I have been made into something. Now I shall be
of some use in the world. That is the only way to be happy."

II

Years passed by, and the linen was so worn that it could hardly hold
together.

"The end must come soon," said the flax.

At last the linen did fall into rags and tatters; it was torn into
shreds and boiled in water. The flax thought the end had come.

But no, the end was not yet. After being made into pulp and dried, the
flax became beautiful white paper.

"This is a surprise, a glorious surprise," it said. "I am finer than
ever, and I shall have fine things written on me. How happy I am!"

And sure enough, the most beautiful stories and verses were written upon
it. People read the stories and verses, and they were made wiser and
better. Their children and their children's children read them, too, and
so the song was not ended.

--HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN.

[Illustration: Girl reading a book]

THE WONDERFUL WORLD

Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful World,
With the wonderful water round you curled,
And the wonderful grass upon your breast,
World, you are beautifully drest.

The wonderful air is over me