then they all swam in
a bustle to the shore. The traces of their feet could be seen on the wet
earth, and far and wide could be heard their quacking. The water, so
lately clear and bright as a mirror, was in quite a commotion.

But a moment before, every tree and bush near the old farmhouse--and
even the house itself with the holes in the roof and the swallows' nests
and, above all, the beautiful rosebush covered with roses--had been
clearly reflected in the water. The rosebush on the wall hung over the
water, which resembled a picture only that everything appeared upside
down, but when the water was set in motion all vanished, and the picture
disappeared.

Two feathers, dropped by the fluttering ducks, floated to and fro on the
water. All at once they took a start as if the wind were coming, but it
did not come, so they were obliged to lie still, as the water became
again quiet and at rest. The roses could once more behold their own
reflections. They were very beautiful, but they knew it not, for no one
had told them. The sun shone between the delicate leaves, and the sweet
fragrance spread itself, carrying happiness everywhere.

"How beautiful is our existence!" said one of the roses. "I feel as if I
should like to kiss the sun, it is so bright and warm. I should like to
kiss the roses too, our images in the water, and the pretty birds there
in their nests. There are some birds too in the nest above us; they
stretch out their heads and cry 'Tweet, tweet,' very faintly. They have
no feathers yet, such as their father and mother have. Both above us and
below us we have good neighbors. How beautiful is our life!"

The young birds above and the young ones below were the same; they were
sparrows, and their nest was reflected in the water. Their parents were
sparrows also, and they had taken possession of an empty swallow's nest
of the year before, occupying it now as if it were their own.

"Are those ducks' children that are swimming about? asked the young
sparrows, as they spied the feathers on the water.

"If you must ask questions, pray ask sensible ones," said the mother.
"Can you not see that these are feathers, the living stuff for clothes,
which I wear and which you will wear soon, only ours are much finer? I
should like, however, to have them up here in the nest, they would make
it so warm. I am rather curious to know why the ducks were so alarmed
just now. It could not be from fear of us, certainly, though I