he sighed mournfully, as he gazed at the birds singingmerrily, or hopping from branch to branch, "they are much better offthan I. Flying is a glorious power. Happy is he who is born withwings. Yes, if I could change myself into anything I would be a littlelark." At the same moment his coat-tails and sleeves grew together andformed wings, his clothes changed to feathers, and his goloshes toclaws. He felt what was taking place, and laughed to himself. "Well,now it is evident I must be dreaming; but I never had such a wilddream as this." And then he flew up into the green boughs and sang,but there was no poetry in the song, for his poetic nature had lefthim. The goloshes, like all persons who wish to do a thing thoroughly,could only attend to one thing at a time. He wished to be a poet,and he became one. Then he wanted to be a little bird, and in thischange he lost the characteristics of the former one. "Well,"thought he, "this is charming; by day I sit in a police-office,amongst the dryest law papers, and at night I can dream that I am alark, flying about in the gardens of Fredericksburg. Really a completecomedy could be written about it." Then he flew down into the grass,turned his head about in every direction, and tapped his beak on thebending blades of grass, which, in proportion to his size, seemed tohim as long as the palm-leaves in northern Africa.
  In another moment all was darkness around him. It seemed as ifsomething immense had been thrown over him. A sailor boy had flung hislarge cap over the bird, and a hand came underneath and caught theclerk by the back and wings so roughly, that he squeaked, and thencried out in his alarm, "You impudent rascal, I am a clerk in thepolice-office!" but it only sounded to the boy like "tweet, tweet;" sohe tapped the bird on the beak, and walked away with him. In theavenue he met two school-boys, who appeared to belong to a betterclass of society, but whose inferior abilities kept them in the lowestclass at school. These boys bought the bird for eightpence, and so theclerk returned to Copenhagen. "It is well for me that I amdreaming," he thought; "otherwise I should become really angry.First I was a poet, and now I am a lark. It must have been thepoetic nature that changed me into this little creature. It is amiserable story indeed, especially now I have fallen into the hands ofboys. I wonder what will be the end of it." The boys carried himinto a very elegant room, where a stout, pleasant-looking ladyreceived them, but she was not at all gratified to find that theyhad brought a lark- a common field-bird as she called it. However, sheallowed them for one day to place the bird in an empty cage thathung near the window. "It will please Polly perhaps," she said,laughing at a large gray parrot, who was swinging himself proudly on aring in a handsome brass cage. "It is Polly's birthday," she addedin a simpering tone, "and the little field-bird has come to offerhis congratulations."
  Polly did not answer a single word, he continued to swingproudly to and fro; but a beautiful canary, who had been broughtfrom his own warm, fragrant fatherland, the summer previous, beganto sing as loud as he could.
  "You screamer!" said the lady, throwing a white handkerchiefover the cage.
  "Tweet, tweet," sighed he, "what a dreadful snowstorm!" and thenhe became silent.
  The clerk, or as the lady called him the field-bird, was placed ina little cage close to the canary, and not far from the parrot. Theonly human speech which Polly could utter, and which she sometimeschattered forth most comically, was "Now let us be men." All besideswas a scream, quite as unintelligible as the warbling of thecanary-bird, excepting to the clerk, who being now a bird, couldunderstand his comrades very well.
  "I flew beneath green palm-trees, and amidst the bloomingalmond-trees," sang the canary. "I flew with my brothers and sistersover beautiful flowers, and across the clear, bright sea, whichreflected the waving foliage in its glittering depths; and I have seenmany gay parrots, who could relate long and delightful stories.
  "They were wild birds," answered the parrot, "and totallyuneducated. Now let us be men. Why do you not laugh?