left on the ugly old fir-tree!' he cried, and stamped on
the boughs so that they cracked under his feet.

And the tree looked at all the splendour and freshness of the flowers in
the garden, and then looked at itself, and wished that it had been left
lying in the dark corner of the lumber-room; it thought of its fresh
youth in the wood, of the merry Christmas Eve, and of the little mice
who had listened so happily to the story of Humpty Dumpty.

'Too late! Too late!' thought the old tree. 'If only I had enjoyed
myself whilst I could. Now all is over and gone.'

And a servant came and cut the tree into small pieces, there was quite
a bundle of them; they flickered brightly under the great copper in
the brew-house; the tree sighed deeply, and each sigh was like a
pistol-shot; so the children who were playing there ran up, and sat in
front of the fire, gazing at it, and crying, 'Piff! puff! bang!' But
for each report, which was really a sigh, the tree was thinking of a
summer's day in the wood, or of a winter's night out there, when the
stars were shining; it thought of Christmas Eve, and of Humpty Dumpty,
which was the only story it had heard, or could tell, and then the tree
had burnt away.

The children played on in the garden, and the youngest had the golden
star on his breast, which the tree had worn on the happiest evening of
its life; and now that was past--and the tree had passed away--and the
story too, all ended and done with.

And that's the way with all stories!

Here our Danish author ends. This is what people call sentiment, and I
hope you enjoy it!

Hans, the Mermaid's Son

Translated from the Danish.

In a village there once lived a smith called Basmus, who was in a very
poor way. He was still a young man, and a strong handsome fellow to
boot, but he had many little children and there was little to be earned
by his trade. He was, however, a diligent and hard-working man, and when
he had no work in the smithy he was out at sea fishing, or gathering
wreckage on the shore.

It happened one time that he had gone out to fish in good weather,
all alone in a little boat, but he did not come home that day, nor the
following one, so that all believed he had perished out at sea. On the
third day, however, Basmus came to shore again and had his boat full
of fish, so big and fat that no one had ever seen their like. There
was nothing the matter with him, and he complained neither of hunger or
thirs