The Selfish Giant.

 [Picture: The Selfish Giant]rnrnEVERY afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to gornand play in the Giant’s garden.rnrnIt was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and there overrnthe grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelvernpeach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms ofrnpink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on therntrees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games inrnorder to listen to them. “How happy we are here!” they cried to eachrnother.rnrn [Picture: Decorative graphic of children in garden]rnrnOne day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend the Cornishrnogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. After the seven yearsrnwere over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation wasrnlimited, and he determined to return to his own castle. When he arrivedrnhe saw the children playing in the garden.rnrn“What are you doing here?” he cried in a very gruff voice, and thernchildren ran away.rnrn“My own garden is my own garden,” said the Giant; “any one can understandrnthat, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself.” So he built arnhigh wall all round it, and put up a notice-board.rnrn TRESPASSERSrnrn WILL BErnrn PROSECUTEDrnrnHe was a very selfish Giant.rnrnThe poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried to play on thernroad, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they didrnnot like it. They used to wander round the high wall when their lessonsrnwere over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside. “How happy wernwere there,” they said to each other.rnrnThen the Spring came, and all over the country there were little blossomsrnand little birds. Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was stillrnwinter. The birds did not care to sing in it as there were no children,rnand the trees forgot to blossom. Once a beautiful flower put its headrnout from the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry forrnthe children that it slipped back into the ground again, and went off tornsleep. The only people who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost.“Spring has forgotten this garden,” they cried, “so we will live here allrnthe year round.” The Snow covered up the grass with her great whiterncloak, and the Frost painted all the trees silver. Then they invited thernNorth Wind to stay with them, and he came. He was wrapped in furs, andrnhe roared all day about the garden, and blew the chimney-pots down.“This is a delightful spot,” he said, “we must ask the Hail on a visit.”rnSo the Hail came. Every day for three hours he rattled on the roof ofrnthe castle till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round andrnround the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and hisrnbreath was like ice.rnrn“I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming,” said thernSelfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold whiterngarden; “I hope there will be a change in the weather.”rnrnBut the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn gave golden fruitrnto every garden, but to the Giant’s garden she gave none. “He is toornselfish,” she said. So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind,rnand the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees.rnrnOne morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovelyrnmusic. It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it must be thernKing’s musicians passing by. It was really only a little linnet singingrnoutside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing inrnhis garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in thernworld. Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Windrnceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the openrncasement. “I believe the Spring has come at last,” said the Giant; andrnhe jumped out of bed and looked out.rnrnWhat did he see?rnrnHe saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in the wall thernchildren had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of therntrees. In every tree that he could see there was a little child. Andrnthe trees were so glad to have the children back again that they hadrncovered themselves with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently abovernthe children’s heads. The birds were flying about and twittering withrndelight, and the flowers were looking up through the green grass andrnlaughing. It was a lovely scene, only in one corner it was still winter.rnIt was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a littlernboy. He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of therntree, and he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly. The poor treernwas still quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind wasrnblowing and roaring above it. “Climb up! little boy,” said the Tree, andrnit bent its branches down as low as it could; but the boy was too tiny.rnrnAnd the Giant’s heart melted as he looked out. “How selfish I havernbeen!” he said; “now I know why the Spring would not come here. I willrnput that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knockrndown the wall, and my garden shall be the children’s playground for everrnand ever.” He was really very sorry for what he had done.rnrnSo he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite softly, and wentrnout into the garden. But when the children saw him they were sornfrightened that they all ran away, and the garden became winter again.rnOnly the little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears thatrnhe did not see the Giant coming. And the Giant stole up behind him andrntook him gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree. And the treernbroke at once into blossom, and the birds came and sang on it, and thernlittle boy stretched out his two arms and flung them round the Giant’srnneck, and kissed him. And the other children, when they saw that thernGiant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and with them camernthe Spring. “It is your garden now, little children,” said the Giant,rnand he took a great axe and knocked down the wall. And when the peoplernwere going to market at twelve o’clock they found the Giant playing withrnthe children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen.rnrnAll day long they played, and in the evening they came to the Giant tornbid him good-bye.rnrn“But where is your little companion?” he said: “the boy I put into therntree.” The Giant loved him the best because he had kissed him.rnrn“We don’t know,” answered the children; “he has gone away.”rnrn“You must tell him to be sure and come here to-morrow,” said the Giant.rnBut the children said that they did not know where he lived, and hadrnnever seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad.rnrnEvery afternoon, when school was over, the children came and played withrnthe Giant. But the little boy whom the Giant loved was never seen again.rnThe Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his firstrnlittle friend, and often spoke of him. “How I would like to see him!” hernused to say.rnrnYears went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble. He could notrnplay about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair, and watched thernchildren at their games, and admired his garden. “I have many beautifulrnflowers,” he said; “but the children are the most beautiful flowers ofrnall.”rnrnOne winter morning he looked out of his window as he was dressing. Herndid not hate the Winter now, for he knew that it was merely the Springrnasleep, and that the flowers were resting.rnrnSuddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and looked. Itrncertainly was a marvellous sight. In the farthest corner of the gardenrnwas a tree quite covered with lovely white blossoms. Its branches werernall golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stoodrnthe little boy he had loved.rnrnDownstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out into the garden. Hernhastened across the grass, and came near to the child. And when he camernquite close his face grew red with anger, and he said, “Who hath dared tornwound thee?” For on the palms of the child’s hands were the prints ofrntwo nails, and the prints of two nails were on the little feet.rnrn“Who hath dared to wound thee?” cried the Giant; “tell me, that I mayrntake my big sword and slay him.”rnrn“Nay!” answered the child; “but these are the wounds of Love.”rnrn“Who art thou?” said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and hernknelt before the little child.rnrnAnd the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, “You let me play oncernin your garden, to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which isrnParadise.”rnrnAnd when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lyingrndead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.rnrn [Picture: Decorative graphic of wreath]rnrnrnrnrnThe Devoted Friend.rnrnrn [Picture: Hans and the Miller]rnrnONE morning the old Water-rat put his head out of his hole. He hadrnbright beady eyes and stiff grey whiskers and his tail was like a longrnbit of black india-rubber. The little ducks were swimming about in thernpond, looking just like a lot of yellow canaries, and their mother, whornwas pure white with real red legs, was trying to teach them how to standrnon their heads in the water.rnrn“You will never be in the best society unless you can stand on yourrnheads,” she kept saying to them; and every now and then she showed themrnhow it was done. But the little ducks paid no attention to her. Theyrnwere so young that they did not know what an advantage it is to be inrnsociety at all.rnrn“What disobedient children!” cried the old Water-rat; “they reallyrndeserve to be drowned.”rnrn“Nothing of the kind,” answered the Duck, “every one must make arnbeginning, and parents cannot be too patient.”rnrn“Ah! I know nothing about the feelings of parents,” said the Water-rat;“I am not a family man. In fact, I have never been married, and I neverrnintend to be. Love is all very well in its way, but friendship is muchrnhigher. Indeed, I know of nothing in the world that is either nobler orrnrarer than a devoted friendship.”rnrn“And what, pray, is your idea of the duties of a devoted friend?” asked arnGreen Linnet, who was sitting in a willow-tree hard by, and had overheardrnthe conversation.rnrn“Yes, that is just what I want to know,” said the Duck; and she swam awayrnto the end of the pond, and stood upon her head, in order to give herrnchildren a good example.rnrn“What a silly question!” cried the Water-rat. “I should expect myrndevoted friend to be devoted to me, of course.”rnrn“And what would you do in return?” said the little bird, swinging upon arnsilver spray, and flapping his tiny wings.rnrn“I don’t understand you,” answered the Water-rat.rnrn“Let me tell you a story on the subject,” said the Linnet.rnrn“Is the story about me?” asked the Water-rat. “If so, I will listen tornit, for I am extremely fond of fiction.”rnrn“It is applicable to you,” answered the Linnet; and he flew down, andrnalighting upon the bank, he told the story of The Devoted Friend.rnrn“Once upon a time,” said the Linnet, “there was an honest little fellowrnnamed Hans.”rnrn“Was he very distinguished?” asked the Water-rat.rnrn“No,” answered the Linnet, “I don’t think he was distinguished at all,rnexcept for his kind heart, and his funny round good-humoured face. Hernlived in a tiny cottage all by himself, and every day he worked in hisrngarden. In all the country-side there was no garden so lovely as his.rnSweet-william grew there, and Gilly-flowers, and Shepherds’-purses, andrnFair-maids of France. There were damask Roses, and yellow Roses, lilacrnCrocuses, and gold, purple Violets and white. Columbine and Ladysmock,rnMarjoram and Wild Basil, the Cowslip and the Flower-de-luce, the Daffodilrnand the Clove-Pink bloomed or blossomed in their proper order as thernmonths went by, one flower taking another flower’s place, so that therernwere always beautiful things to look at, and pleasant odours to smell.rnrn“Little Hans had a great many friends, but the most devoted friend of allrnwas big Hugh the Miller. Indeed, so devoted was the rich Miller tornlittle Hans, that he would never go by his garden without leaning overrnthe wall and plucking a large nosegay, or a handful of sweet herbs, orrnfilling his pockets with plums and cherries if it was the fruit season.rnrn“‘Real friends should have everything in common,’ the Miller used to say,rnand little Hans nodded and smiled, and felt very proud of having a friendrnwith such noble ideas.rnrn“Sometimes, indeed, the neighbours thought it strange that the richrnMiller never gave little Hans anything in return, though he had a hundredrnsacks of flour stored away in his mill, and six milch cows, and a largernflock of woolly sheep; but Hans never troubled his head about thesernthings, and nothing gave him greater pleasure than to listen to all thernwonderful things the Miller used to say about the unselfishness of truernfriendship.rnrn“So little Hans worked away in his garden. During the spring, thernsummer, and the autumn he was very happy, but when the winter came, andrnhe had no fruit or flowers to bring to the market, he suffered a goodrndeal from cold and hunger, and often had to go to bed without any supperrnbut a few dried pears or some hard nuts. In the winter, also, he wasrnextremely lonely, as the Miller never came to see him then.rnrn“‘There is no good in my going to see little Hans as long as the snowrnlasts,’ the Miller used to say to his wife, ‘for when people are inrntrouble they should be left alone, and not be bothered by visitors. Thatrnat least is my idea about friendship, and I am sure I am right. So Irnshall wait till the spring comes, and then I shall pay him a visit, andrnhe will be able to give me a large basket of primroses and that will makernhim so happy.’rnrn“‘You are certainly very thoughtful about others,’ answered the Wife, asrnshe sat in her comfortable armchair by the big pinewood fire; ‘veryrnthoughtful indeed. It is quite a treat to hear you talk aboutrnfriendship. I am sure the clergyman himself could not say such beautifulrnthings as you do, though he does live in a three-storied house, and wearrna gold ring on his little finger.’rnrn“‘But could we not ask little Hans up here?’ said the Miller’s youngestrnson. ‘If poor Hans is in trouble I will give him half my porridge, andrnshow him my white rabbits.’rnrn“‘What a silly boy you are!’ cried the Miller; ‘I really don’t know whatrnis the use of sending you to school. You seem not to learn anything.rnWhy, if little Hans came up here, and saw our warm fire, and our goodrnsupper, and our great cask of red wine, he might get envious, and envy isrna most terrible thing, and would spoil anybody’s nature. I certainlyrnwill not allow Hans’ nature to be spoiled. I am his best friend, and Irnwill always watch over him, and see that he is not led into anyrntemptations. Besides, if Hans came here, he might ask me to let him havernsome flour on credit, and that I could not do. Flour is one thing, andrnfriendship is another, and they should not be confused. Why, the wordsrnare spelt differently, and mean quite different things. Everybody canrnsee that.’rnrn“‘How well you talk!’ said the Miller’s Wife, pouring herself out a largernglass of warm ale; ‘really I feel quite drowsy. It is just like being inrnchurch.’rnrn“‘Lots of people act well,’ answered the Miller; ‘but very few peoplerntalk well, which shows that talking is much the more difficult thing ofrnthe two, and much the finer thing also’; and he looked sternly across therntable at his little son, who felt so ashamed of himself that he hung hisrnhead down, and grew quite scarlet, and began to cry into his tea.rnHowever, he was so young that you must excuse him.”rnrn“Is that the end of the story?” asked the Water-rat.rnrn“Certainly not,” answered the Linnet, “that is the beginning.”rnrn“Then you are quite behind the age,” said the Water-rat. “Every goodrnstory-teller nowadays starts with the end, and then goes on to thernbeginning, and concludes with the middle. That is the new method. Irnheard all about it the other day from a critic who was walking round thernpond with a young man. He spoke of the matter at great length, and I amrnsure he must have been right, for he had blue spectacles and a bald head,rnand whenever the young man made any remark, he always answered ‘Pooh!’rnBut pray go on with your story. I like the Miller immensely. I have allrnkinds of beautiful sentiments myself, so there is a great sympathyrnbetween us.”rnrn“Well,” said the Linnet, hopping now on one leg and now on the other, “asrnsoon as the winter was over, and the primroses began to open their palernyellow stars, the Miller said to his wife that he would go down and seernlittle Hans.rnrn“‘Why, what a good heart you have!’ cried his Wife; ‘you are alwaysrnthinking of others. And mind you take the big basket with you for thernflowers.’rnrn“So the Miller tied the sails of the windmill together with a strong ironrnchain, and went down the hill with the basket on his arm.rnrn“‘Good morning, little Hans,’ said the Miller.rnrn“‘Good morning,’ said Hans, leaning on his spade, and smiling from ear tornear.rnrn“‘And how have you been all the winter?’ said the Miller.rnrn“‘Well, really,’ cried Hans, ‘it is very good of you to ask, very goodrnindeed. I am afraid I had rather a hard time of it, but now the springrnhas come, and I am quite happy, and all my flowers are doing well.’rnrn“‘We often talked of you during the winter, Hans,’ said the Miller, ‘andrnwondered how you were getting on.’rnrn“‘That was kind of you,’ said Hans; ‘I was half afraid you had forgottenrnme.’rnrn“‘Hans, I am surprised at you,’ said the Miller; ‘friendship neverrnforgets. That is the wonderful thing about it, but I am afraid you don’trnunderstand the poetry of life. How lovely your primroses are looking,rnby-the-bye!”rnrn“‘They are certainly very lovely,’ said Hans, ‘and it is a most luckyrnthing for me that I have so many. I am going to bring them into thernmarket and sell them to the Burgomaster’s daughter, and buy back myrnwheelbarrow with the money.’rnrn“‘Buy back your wheelbarrow? You don’t mean to say you have sold it?rnWhat a very stupid thing to do!’rnrn“‘Well, the fact is,’ said Hans, ‘that I was obliged to. You see thernwinter was a very bad time for me, and I really had no money at all tornbuy bread with. So I first sold the silver buttons off my Sunday coat,rnand then I sold my silver chain, and then I sold my big pipe, and at lastrnI sold my wheelbarrow. But I am going to buy them all back again now.’rnrn“‘Hans,’ said the Miller, ‘I will give you my wheelbarrow. It is not inrnvery good repair; indeed, one side is gone, and there is something wrongrnwith the wheel-spokes; but in spite of that I will give it to you. Irnknow it is very generous of me, and a great many people would think mernextremely foolish for parting with it, but I am not like the rest of thernworld. I think that generosity is the essence of friendship, and,rnbesides, I have got a new wheelbarrow for myself. Yes, you may set yourrnmind at ease, I will give you my wheelbarrow.’rnrn“‘Well, really, that is generous of you,’ said little Hans, and his funnyrnround face glowed all over with pleasure. ‘I can easily put it inrnrepair, as I have a plank of wood in the house.’rnrn“‘A plank of wood!’ said the Miller; ‘why, that is just what I want forrnthe roof of my barn. There is a very large hole in it, and the corn willrnall get damp if I don’t stop it up. How lucky you mentioned it! It isrnquite remarkable how one good action always breeds another. I have givenrnyou my wheelbarrow, and now you are going to give me your plank. Ofrncourse, the wheelbarrow is worth far more than the plank, but true,rnfriendship never notices things like that. Pray get it at once, and Irnwill set to work at my barn this very day.’rnrn“‘Certainly,’ cried little Hans, and he ran into the shed and dragged thernplank out.rnrn“‘It is not a very big plank,’ said the Miller, looking at it, ‘and I amrnafraid that after I have mended my barn-roof there won’t be any left forrnyou to mend the wheelbarrow with; but, of course, that is not my fault.rnAnd now, as I have given you my wheelbarrow, I am sure you would like torngive me some flowers in return. Here is the basket, and mind you fill itrnquite full.’rnrn“‘Quite full?’ said little Hans, rather sorrowfully, for it was really arnvery big basket, and he knew that if he filled it he would have nornflowers left for the market and he was very anxious to get his silverrnbuttons back.rnrn“‘Well, really,’ answered the Miller, ‘as I have given you myrnwheelbarrow, I don’t think that it is much to ask you for a few flowers.rnI may be wrong, but I should have thought that friendship, truernfriendship, was quite free from selfishness of any kind.’rnrn“‘My dear friend, my best friend,’ cried little Hans, ‘you are welcome tornall the flowers in my garden. I would much sooner have your good opinionrnthan my silver buttons, any day’; and he ran and plucked all his prettyrnprimroses, and filled the Miller’s basket.rnrn“‘Good-bye, little Hans,’ said the Miller, as he went up the hill withrnthe plank on his shoulder, and the big basket in his hand.rnrn“‘Good-bye,’ said little Hans, and he began to dig away quite merrily, hernwas so pleased about the wheelbarrow.rnrn“The next day he was nailing up some honeysuckle against the porch, whenrnhe heard the Miller’s voice calling to him from the road. So he jumpedrnoff the ladder, and ran down the garden, and looked over the wall.rnrn“There was the Miller with a large sack of flour on his back.rnrn“‘Dear little Hans,’ said the Miller, ‘would you mind carrying this sackrnof flour for me to market?’rnrn“‘Oh, I am so sorry,’ said Hans, ‘but I am really very busy to-day. Irnhave got all my creepers to nail up, and all my flowers to water, and allrnmy grass to roll.’rnrn“‘Well, really,’ said the Miller, ‘I think that, considering that I amrngoing to give you my wheelbarrow, it is rather unfriendly of you tornrefuse.’rnrn“‘Oh, don’t say that,’ cried little Hans, ‘I wouldn’t be unfriendly forrnthe whole world’; and he ran in for his cap, and trudged off with the bigrnsack on his shoulders.rnrn“It was a very hot day, and the road was terribly dusty, and before Hansrnhad reached the sixth milestone he was so tired that he had to sit downrnand rest. However, he went on bravely, and as last he reached thernmarket. After he had waited there some time, he sold the sack of flourrnfor a very good price, and then he returned home at once, for he wasrnafraid that if he stopped too late he might meet some robbers on the way.rnrn“‘It has certainly been a hard day,’ said little Hans to himself as hernwas going to bed, ‘but I am glad I did not refuse the Miller, for he isrnmy best friend, and, besides, he is going to give me his wheelbarrow.’rnrn“Early the next morning the Miller came down to get the money for hisrnsack of flour, but little Hans was so tired that he was still in bed.rnrn“‘Upon my word,’ said the Miller, ‘you are very lazy. Really,rnconsidering that I am going to give you my wheelbarrow, I think you mightrnwork harder. Idleness is a great sin, and I certainly don’t like any ofrnmy friends to be idle or sluggish. You must not mind my speaking quiternplainly to you. Of course I should not dream of doing so if I were notrnyour friend. But what is the good of friendship if one cannot sayrnexactly what one means? Anybody can say charming things and try tornplease and to flatter, but a true friend always says unpleasant things,rnand does not mind giving pain. Indeed, if he is a really true friend hernprefers it, for he knows that then he is doing good.’rnrn“‘I am very sorry,’ said little Hans, rubbing his eyes and pulling offrnhis night-cap, ‘but I was so tired that I thought I would lie in bed forrna little time, and listen to the birds singing. Do you know that Irnalways work better after hearing the birds sing?’rnrn“‘Well, I am glad of that,’ said the Miller, clapping little Hans on thernback, ‘for I want you to come up to the mill as soon as you are dressed,rnand mend my barn-roof for me.’rnrn“Poor little Hans was very anxious to go and work in his garden, for hisrnflowers had not been watered for two days, but he did not like to refusernthe Miller, as he was such a good friend to him.rnrn“‘Do you think it would be unfriendly of me if I said I was busy?’ herninquired in a shy and timid voice.rnrn“‘Well, really,’ answered the Miller, ‘I do not think it is much to askrnof you, considering that I am going to give you my wheelbarrow; but ofrncourse if you refuse I will go and do it myself.’rnrn“‘Oh! on no account,’ cried little Hans and he jumped out of bed, andrndressed himself, and went up to the barn.rnrn“He worked there all day long, till sunset, and at sunset the Miller camernto see how he was getting on.rnrn“‘Have you mended the hole in the roof yet, little Hans?’ cried thernMiller in a cheery voice.rnrn“‘It is quite mended,’ answered little Hans, coming down the ladder.rnrn“‘Ah!’ said the Miller, ‘there is no work so delightful as the work onerndoes for others.’rnrn“‘It is certainly a great privilege to hear you talk,’ answered littlernHans, sitting down, and wiping his forehead, ‘a very great privilege.rnBut I am afraid I shall never have such beautiful ideas as you have.’rnrn“‘Oh! they will come to you,’ said the Miller, ‘but you must take morernpains. At present you have only the practice of friendship; some day yournwill have the theory also.’rnrn“‘Do you really think I shall?’ asked little Hans.rnrn“‘I have no doubt of it,’ answered the Miller, ‘but now that you havernmended the roof, you had better go home and rest, for I want you to drivernmy sheep to the mountain to-morrow.’rnrn“Poor little Hans was afraid to say anything to this, and early the nextrnmorning the Miller brought his sheep round to the cottage, and Hansrnstarted off with them to the mountain. It took him the whole day to getrnthere and back; and when he returned he was so tired that he went off tornsleep in his chair, and did not wake up till it was broad daylight.rnrn“‘What a delightful time I shall have in my garden,’ he said, and he wentrnto work at once.rnrn“But somehow he was never able to look after his flowers at all, for hisrnfriend the Miller was always coming round and sending him off on longrnerrands, or getting him to help at the mill. Little Hans was very muchrndistressed at times, as he was afraid his flowers would think he hadrnforgotten them, but he consoled himself by the reflection that the Millerrnwas his best friend. ‘Besides,’ he used to say, ‘he is going to give mernhis wheelbarrow, and that is an act of pure generosity.’rnrn“So little Hans worked away for the Miller, and the Miller said all kindsrnof beautiful things about friendship, which Hans took down in arnnote-book, and used to read over at night, for he was a very goodrnscholar.rnrn“Now it happened that one evening little Hans was sitting by his firesidernwhen a loud rap came at the door. It was a very wild night, and the windrnwas blowing and roaring round the house so terribly that at first hernthought it was merely the storm. But a second rap came, and then arnthird, louder than any of the others.rnrn“‘It is some poor traveller,’ said little Hans to himself, and he ran tornthe door.rnrn“There stood the Miller with a lantern in one hand and a big stick in thernother.rnrn“‘Dear little Hans,’ cried the Miller, ‘I am in great trouble. My littlernboy has fallen off a ladder and hurt himself, and I am going for thernDoctor. But he lives so far away, and it is such a bad night, that itrnhas just occurred to me that it would be much better if you went insteadrnof me. You know I am going to give you my wheelbarrow, and so, it isrnonly fair that you should do something for me in return.’rnrn“‘Certainly,’ cried little Hans, ‘I take it quite as a compliment yourrncoming to me, and I will start off at once. But you must lend me yourrnlantern, as the night is so dark that I am afraid I might fall into thernditch.’rnrn“‘I am very sorry,’ answered the Miller, ‘but it is my new lantern, andrnit would be a great loss to me if anything happened to it.’rnrn“‘Well, never mind, I will do without it,’ cried little Hans, and he tookrndown his great fur coat, and his warm scarlet cap, and tied a mufflerrnround his throat, and started off.rnrn“What a dreadful storm it was! The night was so black that little Hansrncould hardly see, and the wind was so strong that he could scarcelyrnstand. However, he was very courageous, and after he had been walkingrnabout three hours, he arrived at the Doctor’s house, and knocked at therndoor.rnrn“‘Who is there?’ cried the Doctor, putting his head out of his bedroomrnwindow.rnrn“‘Little Hans, Doctor.’rnrn“’What do you want, little Hans?’rnrn“‘The Miller’s son has fallen from a ladder, and has hurt himself, andrnthe Miller wants you to come at once.’rnrn“‘All right!’ said the Doctor; and he ordered his horse, and his bigrnboots, and his lantern, and came downstairs, and rode off in therndirection of the Miller’s house, little Hans trudging behind him.rnrn“But the storm grew worse and worse, and the rain fell in torrents, andrnlittle Hans could not see where he was going, or keep up with the horse.rnAt last he lost his way, and wandered off on the moor, which was a veryrndangerous place, as it was full of deep holes, and there poor little Hansrnwas drowned. His body was found the next day by some goatherds, floatingrnin a great pool of water, and was brought back by them to the cottage.rnrn“Everybody went to little Hans’ funeral, as he was so popular, and thernMiller was the chief mourner.rnrn“‘As I was his best friend,’ said the Miller, ‘it is only fair that Irnshould have the best place’; so he walked at the head of the processionrnin a long black cloak, and every now and then he wiped his eyes with arnbig pocket-handkerchief.rnrn“‘Little Hans is certainly a great loss to every one,’ said thernBlacksmith, when the funeral was over, and they were all seatedrncomfortably in the inn, drinking spiced wine and eating sweet cakes.rnrn“‘A great loss to me at any rate,’ answered the Miller; ‘why, I had asrngood as given him my wheelbarrow, and now I really don’t know what to dornwith it. It is very much in my way at home, and it is in such bad repairrnthat I could not get anything for it if I sold it. I will certainly takerncare not to give away anything again. One always suffers for beingrngenerous.’”rnrn“Well?” said the Water-rat, after a long pause.rnrn“Well, that is the end,” said the Linnet.rnrn“But what became of the Miller?” asked the Water-rat.rnrn“Oh! I really don’t know,” replied the Linnet; “and I am sure that Irndon’t care.”rnrn“It is quite evident then that you have no sympathy in your nature,” saidrnthe Water-rat.rnrn“I am afraid you don’t quite see the moral of the story,” remarked thernLinnet.rnrn“The what?” screamed the Water-rat.rnrn“The moral.”rnrn“Do you mean to say that the story has a moral?”rnrn“Certainly,” said the Linnet.rnrn“Well, really,” said the Water-rat, in a very angry manner, “I think yournshould have told me that before you began. If you had done so, Irncertainly would not have listened to you; in fact, I should have saidrn‘Pooh,’ like the critic. However, I can say it now”; so he shouted outrn“Pooh” at the top of his voice, gave a whisk with his tail, and went backrninto his hole.rnrn“And how do you like the Water-rat?” asked the Duck, who came paddling uprnsome minutes afterwards. “He has a great many good points, but for myrnown part I have a mother’s feelings, and I can never look at a confirmedrnbachelor without the tears coming into my eyes.”rnrn“I am rather afraid that I have annoyed him,” answered the Linnet. “Thernfact is, that I told him a story with a moral.”rnrn“Ah! that is always a very dangerous thing to do,” said the Duck.rnrnAnd I quite agree with her.rnrn [Picture: Decorative graphic of windmill and overturned barrow]rnrn