- Flabs! He did not deserve to be admitted at all, and our auntwould not soil her lips with what he said. And he said, did Flabs,that the whole was written down, and it should be printed when hewas dead and buried, but not before, for he would not risk havinghis arms and legs broken.
  Once our aunt had been in fear and trembling in her temple ofhappiness, the theatre. It was on a winter day, one of those days inwhich one has a couple of hours of daylight, with a gray sky. It wasterribly cold and snowy, but aunt must go to the theatre. A littleopera and a great ballet were performed, and a prologue and anepilogue into the bargain; and that would last till late at night. Ouraunt must needs go; so she borrowed a pair of fur boots of her lodger-boots with fur inside and out, and which reached far up her legs.
  She got to the theatre, and to her box; the boots were warm, andshe kept them on. Suddenly there was a cry of "Fire!" Smoke was comingfrom one of the side scenes, and streamed down from the flies, andthere was a terrible panic. The people came rushing out, and ouraunt was the last in the box, "on the second tier, left-hand side, forfrom there the scenery looks best," she used to say. "The scenes arealways arranged that they look best from the King's side." Aunt wantedto come out, but the people before her, in their fright andheedlessness, slammed the door of the box; and there sat our aunt, andcouldn't get out, and couldn't get in; that is to say, she couldn'tget into the next box, for the partition was too high for her. Shecalled out, and no one heard her; she looked down into the tier ofboxes below her, and it was empty, and low, and looked quite near, andaunt in her terror felt quite young and light. She thought ofjumping down, and had got one leg over the partition, the otherresting on the bench. There she sat astride, as if on horseback,well wrapped up in her flowered cloak with one leg hanging out- aleg in a tremendous fur boot. That was a sight to behold; and whenit was beheld, our aunt was heard too, and was saved from burning, forthe theatre was not burned down.
  That was the most memorable evening of her life, and she wasglad that she could not see herself, for she would have died withconfusion.
  Her benefactor in the machinery department, Herr Sivertsen,visited her every Sunday, but it was a long time from Sunday toSunday. In the latter time, therefore, she used to have in a littlechild "for the scraps;" that is to say, to eat up the remains of thedinner. It was a child employed in the ballet, one that certainlywanted feeding. The little one used to appear, sometimes as an elf,sometimes as a page; the most difficult part she had to play was thelion's hind leg in the "Magic Flute;" but as she grew larger she couldrepresent the fore-feet of the lion. She certainly only got half aguilder for that, whereas the hind legs were paid for with a wholeguilder; but then she had to walk bent, and to do without fresh air."That was all very interesting to hear," said our aunt.
  She deserved to live as long as the theatre stood, but she couldnot last so long; and she did not die in the theatre, butrespectably in her bed. Her last words were, moreover, not withoutmeaning. She asked,
  "What will the play be to-morrow?"
  At her death she left about five hundred dollars. We presumethis from the interest, which came to twenty dollars. This our aunthad destined as a legacy for a worthy old spinster who had no friends;it was to be devoted to a yearly subscription for a place in thesecond tier, on the left side, for the Saturday evening, "for onthat evening two pieces were always given," it said in the will; andthe only condition laid upon the person who enjoyed the legacy was,that she should think, every Saturday evening, of our aunt, who waslying in her grave.
  This was our aunt's religion.
  THE END.
  1872
  FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
  POULTRY MEG'S FAMILY
  by Hans Christian Andersen
  POULTRY MEG was the only person who lived in the new statelydwelling that had been built for the fowls and ducks belonging tothe manor house. It stood there where once the old knightly buildinghad stood with its tower, its pointed gables, its moat, and itsdrawbridge. Close by it was a wilderness of trees and thicket; herethe garden had been, and had stretched out to a great lake, whichwas now moorland. Crows and choughs flew screaming over the old trees,and there were crowds of birds; they did not seem to get fewer whenany one shot among them, but seemed rather to increase. One heardthe screaming into the poultry-house, where Poultry Meg sat with theducklings running to and fro over her wooden shoes. She knew everyfowl and every duck from the moment it crept out of the shell; and shewas fond of her fowls and her ducks, and proud of the stately housethat had been built for them. Her own little room in the house wasclean and neat, for that was the wish of the gracious lady to whom thehouse belonged. She often came in the company of grand noble guests,to whom she showed "the hens' and ducks' barracks," as she calledthe little house.
  Here were a clothes cupboard, and an, arm-chair, and even achest of drawers; and on these drawers a polished metal plate had beenplaced, whereon was engraved the word "Grubbe," and this was thename of the noble family that had lived in the house of old. The brassplate had been found when they were digging the foundation; and theclerk has said it had no value except in being an old relic. The clerkknew all about the place, and about the old times, for he had hisknowledge from books, and many a memorandum had been written and putin his table-drawer. But the oldest of the crows perhaps knew morethan he, and screamed it out in her own language; but that was thecrow's language, and the clerk did not understand that, clever as hewas.
  After the hot summer days the mist sometimes hung over themoorland as if a whole lake were behind the old trees, among which thecrows and the daws were fluttering; and thus it had looked when thegood Knight Grubbe had lived here- when the old manor house stood withits thick red walls. The dog-chain used to reach in those days quiteover the gateway; through the tower one went into a paved passagewhich led to the rooms; the windows were narrow, and the panes weresmall, even in the great hall where the dancing used to be; but in thetime of the last Grubbe, there had been no dancing in the hallwithin the memory of man, although an old drum still lay there thathad served as part of the music. Here stood a quaintly carvedcupboard, in which rare flower-roots were kept, for my Lady Grubbe wasfond of plants and cultivated trees and shrubs. Her husbandpreferred riding out to shoot wolves and boars; and his littledaughter Marie always went with him part of the way. When she was onlyfive years old, she would sit proudly on her horse, and look saucilyround with her great black eyes. It was a great amusement to her tohit out among the hunting-dogs with her whip; but her father wouldrather have seen her hit among the peasant boys, who came running upto stare at their lord.
  The peasant in the clay hut close by the knightly house had ason named Soren, of the same age as the gracious little lady. Theboy could climb well, and had always to bring her down the bird'snests. The birds screamed as loud as they could, and one of thegreatest of them hacked him with its beak over the eye so that theblood ran down, and it was at first thought the eye had beendestroyed; but it had not been injured after all. Marie Grubbe used tocall him her Soren, and that was a great favor, and was an advantageto Soren's father- poor Jon, who had one day committed a fault, andwas to be punished by riding on the wooden horse. This same horsestood in the courtyard, and had four poles for legs, and a singlenarrow plant for a back; on this Jon had to ride astride, and someheavy bricks were fastened to his feet into the bargain, that he mightnot sit too comfortably. He made horrible grimaces, and Soren wept andimplored little Marie to interfere. She immediately ordered thatSoren's father should be taken down, and when they did not obey her,she stamped on the floor, and pulled at her father's sleeve till itwas torn to pieces. She would have her way, and she got her way, andSoren's father was taken down.
  Lady Grubbe, who now came up, parted her little daughter's hairfrom the child's brow, and looked at her affectionately; but Marie didnot understand why.
  She wanted to go to the hounds, and not to her mother, who wentdown into the garden, to the lake where the water-lily bloomed, andthe heads of bulrushes nodded amid the reeds; and she looked at allthis beauty and freshness. "How pleasant!"