Why did he not
  leave them alone? Who would trouble themselves about such trifles?
  especially at a comedy, where every one is expected to be amused. Then
  sometimes the public applauded too much, or too little, to please him.
  "They are like wet wood," he would say, looking round to see what sort
  of people were present, "this evening; nothing fires them." Then he
  would vex and fret himself because they did not laugh at the right
  time, or because they laughed in the wrong places; and so he fretted
  and worried himself till at last the unhappy man fretted himself
  into the grave.
  Here rests a happy man, that is to say, a man of high birth and
  position, which was very lucky for him, otherwise he would have been
  scarcely worth notice. It is beautiful to observe how wisely nature
  orders these things. He walked about in a coat embroidered all over,
  and in the drawing-rooms of society looked just like one of those rich
  pearl-embroidered bell-pulls, which are only made for show; and behind
  them always hangs a good thick cord for use. This man also had a
  stout, useful substitute behind him, who did duty for him, and
  performed all his dirty work. And there are still, even now, these
  serviceable cords behind other embroidered bell-ropes. It is all so
  wisely arranged, that a man may well be in a good humor.
  Here rests,- ah, it makes one feel mournful to think of him!-
  but here rests a man who, during sixty-seven years, was never
  remembered to have said a good thing; he lived only in the hope of
  having a good idea. At last he felt convinced, in his own mind, that
  he really had one, and was so delighted that he positively died of joy
  at the thought of having at last caught an idea. Nobody got anything
  by it; indeed, no one even heard what the good thing was. Now I can
  imagine that this same idea may prevent him from resting quietly in
  his grave; for suppose that to produce a good effect, it is
  necessary to bring out his new idea at breakfast, and that he can only
  make his appearance on earth at midnight, as ghosts are believed
  generally to do; why then this good idea would not suit the hour,
  and the man would have to carry it down again with him into the grave-
  that must be a troubled grave.
  The woman who lies here was so remarkably stingy, that during
  her life she would get up in the night and mew, that her neighbors
  might think she kept a cat. What a miser she was!
  Here rests a young lady, of a good family, who would always make
  her voice heard in society, and when she sang "Mi manca la voce,"*
  it was the only true thing she ever said in her life.
  * "I want a voice," or, "I have no voice."
  Here lies a maiden of another description. She was engaged to be
  married,- but, her story is one of every-day life; we will leave her
  to rest in the grave.
  Here rests a widow, who, with music in her tongue, carried gall in
  her heart. She used to go round among the families near, and search
  out their faults, upon which she preyed with all the envy and malice
  of her nature. This is a family grave. The members of this family held
  so firmly together in their opinions, that they would believe in no
  other. If the newspapers, or even the whole world, said of a certain
  subject, "It is so-and-so;" and a little schoolboy declared he had
  learned quite differently, they would take his assertion as the only
  true one, because he belonged to the family. And it is well known that
  if the yard-cock belonging to this family happened to crow at
  midnight, they would declare it was morning, although the watchman and
  all the clocks in the town were proclaiming the hour of twelve at
  night.
  The great poet Goethe concludes his Faust with the words, "may
  be continued;" so might our wanderings in the churchyard be continued.
  I come here often, and if any of my friends, or those who are not my
  friends, are too much for me, I go out and choose a plot of ground
  in which to bury him or her. Then I bury them, as it were; there
  they lie, dead and powerless, till they come back new and better
  characters. Their lives and their deeds, looked at after my own
  fashion, I write down in my diary, as every one ought to do. Then,
  if any of our friends act absurdly, no one need to be vexed about
  it. Let them bury the offenders out of sight, and keep their good
  temper. They can also read the Intelligencer, which is a paper written
  by the people, with their hands guided. When the time comes for the
  history of my life, to be bound by the grave, then they will write
  upon it as my epitaph-
  "The man with a cheerful temper."
  And this is my story.
  THE END
  .
  1872
  FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
  A GREAT GRIEF
  by Hans Christian Andersen
  THIS story really consists of two parts. The first part might be
  left out, but it gives us a few particulars, and these are useful
  We were staying in the country at a gentleman's seat, where it
  happened that the master was absent for a few days. In the meantime,
  there arrived from the next town a lady; she had a pug dog with her,
  and came, she said, to dispose of shares in her tan-yard. She had
  her papers with her, and we advised her to put them in an envelope,
  and to write thereon the address of the proprietor of the estate,
  "General War-Commissary Knight," &c.
  She listened to us attentively, seized the pen, paused, and begged
  us to repeat the direction slowly. We complied, and she wrote; but
  in the midst of the "General War-" she struck fast, sighed deeply, and
  said, "I am only a woman!"