Were they each nothing orsomething? You shall hear; it is quite a history.
  The eldest brother, he who fabricated bricks, soon discovered thateach brick, when finished, brought him in a small coin, if only acopper one; and many copper pieces, if placed one upon another, can bechanged into a shining shilling; and at whatever door a person knocks,who has a number of these in his hands, whether it be the baker's, thebutcher's, or the tailor's, the door flies open, and he can get all hewants. So you see the value of bricks. Some of the bricks, however,crumbled to pieces, or were broken, but the elder brother found ause for even these.
  On the high bank of earth, which formed a dyke on the sea-coast, apoor woman named Margaret wished to build herself a house, so allthe imperfect bricks were given to her, and a few whole ones withthem; for the eldest brother was a kind-hearted man, although he neverachieved anything higher than making bricks. The poor woman builtherself a little house- it was small and narrow, and the window wasquite crooked, the door too low, and the straw roof might have beenbetter thatched. But still it was a shelter, and from within you couldlook far over the sea, which dashed wildly against the sea-wall onwhich the little house was built. The salt waves sprinkled their whitefoam over it, but it stood firm, and remained long after he who hadgiven the bricks to build it was dead and buried.
  The second brother of course knew better how to build than poorMargaret, for he served an apprenticeship to learn it. When his timewas up, he packed up his knapsack, and went on his travels, singingthe journeyman's song,-
  "While young, I can wander without a care,
  And build new houses everywhere;
  Fair and bright are my dreams of home,
  Always thought of wherever I roam.
  Hurrah for a workman's life of glee!
  There's a loved one at home who thinks of me;
  Home and friends I can ne'er forget,
  And I mean to be a master yet."And that is what he did. On his return home, he became a masterbuilder,- built one house after another in the town, till theyformed quite a street, which, when finished, became really an ornamentto the town. These houses built a house for him in return, which wasto be his own. But how can houses build a house? If the houses wereasked, they could not answer; but the people would understand, andsay, "Certainly the street built his house for him." It was not verylarge, and the floor was of lime; but when he danced with his bride onthe lime-covered floor, it was to him white and shining, and fromevery stone in the wall flowers seemed to spring forth and decoratethe room as with the richest tapestry. It was really a pretty house,and in it were a happy pair. The flag of the corporation flutteredbefore it, and the journeymen and apprentices shouted "Hurrah." He hadgained his position, he had made himself something, and at last hedied, which was "something" too.
  Now we come to the architect, the third brother, who had beenfirst a carpenter's apprentice, had worn a cap, and served as anerrand boy, but afterwards went to the academy, and risen to be anarchitect, a high and noble gentleman. Ah yes, the houses of the newstreet, which the brother who was a master builder erected, may havebuilt his house for him, but the street received its name from thearchitect, and the handsomest house in the street became his property.That was something, and he was "something," for he had a list oftitles before and after his name. His children were called "wellborn,"and when he died, his widow was treated as a lady of position, andthat was "something." His name remained always written at the cornerof the street, and lived in every one's mouth as its name. Yes, thisalso was something."
  And what about the genius of the family- the fourth brother- whowanted to invent something new and original?