He tried to build a loftystorey himself, but it fell to pieces, and he fell with it and brokehis neck. However, he had a splendid funeral, with the city flagsand music in the procession; flowers were strewn on the pavement,and three orations were spoken over his grave, each one longer thanthe other. He would have liked this very much during his life, as wellas the poems about him in the papers, for he liked nothing so wellas to be talked of. A monument was also erected over his grave. It wasonly another storey over him, but that was "something," Now he wasdead, like the three other brothers.
  The youngest- the critic- outlived them all, which was quite rightfor him. It gave him the opportunity of having the last word, which tohim was of great importance. People always said he had a goodhead-piece. At last his hour came, and he died, and arrived at thegates of heaven. Souls always enter these gates in pairs; so hefound himself standing and waiting for admission with another; and whoshould it be but old dame Margaret, from the house on the dyke! "It isevidently for the sake of contrast that I and this wretched soulshould arrive here exactly at the same time," said the critic. "Praywho are you, my good woman?" said he; "do you want to get in heretoo?"
  And the old woman curtsied as well as she could; she thought itmust be St. Peter himself who spoke to her. "I am a poor old woman,"she said, "without my family. I am old Margaret, that lived in thehouse on the dyke."
  "Well, and what have you done- what great deed have youperformed down below?"
  "I have done nothing at all in the world that could give me aclaim to have these doors open for me," she said. "It would be onlythrough mercy that I can be allowed to slip in through the gate."
  "In what manner did you leave the world?" he asked, just for thesake of saying something; for it made him feel very weary to standthere and wait.
  "How I left the world?" she replied; "why, I can scarcely tellyou. During the last years of my life I was sick and miserable, andI was unable to bear creeping out of bed suddenly into the frost andcold. Last winter was a hard winter, but I have got over it all now.There were a few mild days, as your honor, no doubt, knows. The icelay thickly on the lake, as far one could see. The people came fromthe town, and walked upon it, and they say there were dancing andskating upon it, I believe, and a great feasting. The sound ofbeautiful music came into my poor little room where I lay. Towardsevening, when the moon rose beautifully, though not yet in her fullsplendor, I glanced from my bed over the wide sea; and there, justwhere the sea and sky met, rose a curious white cloud. I lay lookingat the cloud till I observed a little black spot in the middle ofit, which gradually grew larger and larger, and then I knew what itmeant- I am old and experienced; and although this token is notoften seen, I knew it, and a shuddering seized me. Twice in my lifehad I seen this same thing, and I knew that there would be an awfulstorm, with a spring tide, which would overwhelm the poor people whowere now out on the ice, drinking, dancing, and making merry. Youngand old, the whole city, were there; who was to warn them, if no onenoticed the sign, or knew what it meant as I did? I was so alarmed,that I felt more strength and life than I had done for some time. Igot out of bed, and reached the window; I could not crawl anyfarther from weakness and exhaustion; but I managed to open thewindow. I saw the people outside running and jumping about on the ice;I saw the beautiful flags waving in the wind; I heard the boysshouting, 'Hurrah!