"Are you an artist?" said a cavalier, the son of his father;"you play on the flute, you have made it yourself; it is genius thatrules- the place of honour is due to you."
  "Certainly not! I only advance with the time, and that of courseone can't help."
  "I hope you will delight us all with the little instrument- willyou not?" Thus saying he handed to the tutor the flute which hadbeen cut from the willow tree by the pool; and then announced in aloud voice that the tutor wished to perform a solo on the flute.They wished to tease him- that was evident, and therefore the tutordeclined to play, although he could do so very well. They urged andrequested him, however, so long, that at last he took up the flute andplaced it to his lips.
  That was a marvellous flute! Its sound was as thrilling as thewhistle of a steam engine; in fact it was much stronger, for itsounded and was heard in the yard, in the garden, in the wood, andmany miles round in the country; at the same time a storm rose androared; "Everything in the right place." And with this the baron, asif carried by the wind, flew out of the hall straight into theshepherd's cottage, and the shepherd flew- not into the hall,thither he could not come- but into the servants' hall, among thesmart footmen who were striding about in silk stockings; these haughtymenials looked horror-struck that such a person ventured to sit attable with them. But in the hall the baron's daughter flew to theplace of honour at the end of the table- she was worthy to sitthere; the pastor's son had the seat next to her; the two sat there asif they were a bridal pair. An old Count, belonging to one of theoldest families of the country, remained untouched in his place ofhonour; the flute was just, and it is one's duty to be so. Thesharp-tongued cavalier who had caused the flute to be played, andwho was the child of his parents, flew headlong into the fowl-house,but not he alone.
  The flute was heard at the distance of a mile, and strangeevents took place. A rich banker's family, who were driving in a coachand four, were blown out of it, and could not even find room behind itwith their footmen. Two rich farmers who had in our days shot uphigher than their own corn-fields, were flung into the ditch; it was adangerous flute. Fortunately it burst at the first sound, and that wasa good thing, for then it was put back into its owner's pocket- "itsright place."
  The next day, nobody spoke a word about what had taken place; thusoriginated the phrase, "to pocket the flute." Everything was againin its usual order, except that the two old pictures of the peddlarand the goose-girl were hanging in the banqueting-hall. There theywere on the wall as if blown up there; and as a real expert saidthat they were painted by a master's hand, they remained there andwere restored. "Everything in the right place," and to this it willcome. Eternity is long, much longer indeed than this story.
  THE END.
  1872
  FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
  GRANDMOTHER
  by Hans Christian AndersenGRANDMOTHER
  GRANDMOTHER is very old, her face is wrinkled, and her hair isquite white; but her eyes are like two stars, and they have a mild,gentle expression in them when they look at you, which does yougood. She wears a dress of heavy, rich silk, with large flowers workedon it; and it rustles when she moves. And then she can tell the mostwonderful stories. Grandmother knows a great deal, for she was alivebefore father and mother- that's quite certain. She has a hymn-bookwith large silver clasps, in which she often reads; and in the book,between the leaves, lies a rose, quite flat and dry; it is not sopretty as the roses which are standing in the glass, and yet shesmiles at it most pleasantly, and tears even come into her eyes. "Iwonder why grandmother looks at the withered flower in the old bookthat way?