may not act in a similar manner, for we can
never know if we may not, in the course of time, also come into the
rag chest, and be made into white paper, and then have our whole
life's history printed on it, even the most secret, and be obliged to
run about and tell it ourselves, just like this collar.

------------

THE SHADOW.

It is in the hot lands that the sun burns, sure enough!--there the
people become quite a mahogany brown, ay, and in the _hottest_ lands
they are burnt to negroes. But now it was only to the _hot_ lands that
a learned man had come from the cold; there he thought that he could
run about just as when at home, but he soon found out his mistake.

He, and all sensible folks, were obliged to stay within doors,--the
window-shutters and doors were closed the whole day; it looked as if
the whole house slept, or there was no one at home.

The narrow street with the high houses, was built so that the sunshine
must fall there from morning till evening--it was really not to be
borne.

The learned man from the cold lands--he was a young man, and seemed to
be a clever man--sat in a glowing oven; it took effect on him, he
became quite meagre--even his shadow shrunk in, for the sun had also
an effect on it. It was first towards evening when the sun was down,
that they began to freshen up again.

In the warm lands every window has a balcony, and the people came out
on all the balconies in the street--for one must have air, even if one
be accustomed to be mahogany!* It was lively both up and down the
street. Tailors, and shoemakers, and all the folks, moved out into the
street--chairs and tables were brought forth--and candles burnt--yes,
above a thousand lights were burning--and the one talked and the other
sung; and people walked and church-bells rang, and asses went along
with a dingle-dingle-dong! for they too had bells on. The street boys
were screaming and hooting, and shouting and shooting, with devils and
detonating balls:--and there came corpse bearers and hood
wearers,--for there were funerals with psalm and hymn,--and then the
din of carriages driving and company arriving:--yes, it was, in truth,
lively enough down in the street. Only in that single house, which
stood opposite that in which the learned foreigner lived, it was quite
still; and yet some one lived there, for there stood flowers in the
balcony--they grew so well in the sun's heat--and that they could not
do unless they were w