there he stood, and, to their astonishment, said, "Good morning."
  THE END.
  1872
  FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
  THE OLD BACHELOR'S NIGHTCAP
  by Hans Christian Andersen
  THERE is a street in Copenhagen with a very strange name. It iscalled "Hysken" street. Where the name came from, and what it means isvery uncertain. It is said to be German, but that is unjust to theGermans, for it would then be called "Hauschen," not "Hysken.""Hauschen," means a little house; and for many years it consisted onlyof a few small houses, which were scarcely larger than the woodenbooths we see in the market-places at fair time. They were perhaps alittle higher, and had windows; but the panes consisted of horn orbladder-skins, for glass was then too dear to have glazed windows inevery house. This was a long time ago, so long indeed that ourgrandfathers, and even great-grandfathers, would speak of those daysas "olden times;" indeed, many centuries have passed since then.
  The rich merchants in Bremen and Lubeck, who carried on trade inCopenhagen, did not reside in the town themselves, but sent theirclerks, who dwelt in the wooden booths in the Hauschen street, andsold beer and spices. The German beer was very good, and there weremany sorts- from Bremen, Prussia, and Brunswick- and quantities of allsorts of spices, saffron, aniseed, ginger, and especially pepper;indeed, pepper was almost the chief article sold here; so ithappened at last that the German clerks in Denmark got theirnickname of "pepper gentry." It had been made a condition with theseclerks that they should not marry; so that those who lived to be oldhad to take care of themselves, to attend to their own comforts, andeven to light their own fires, when they had any to light. Many ofthem were very aged; lonely old boys, with strange thoughts andeccentric habits. From this, all unmarried men, who have attained acertain age, are called, in Denmark, "pepper gentry;" and this must beremembered by all those who wish to understand the story. These"pepper gentlemen," or, as they are called in England, "oldbachelors," are often made a butt of ridicule; they are told to put ontheir nightcaps, draw them over their eyes, and go to sleep. Theboys in Denmark make a song of it, thus:-
  "Poor old bachelor, cut your wood,
  Such a nightcap was never seen;
  Who would think it was ever clean?
  Go to sleep, it will do you good."
  So they sing about the "pepper gentleman;" so do they make sportof the poor old bachelor and his nightcap, and all because they reallyknow nothing of either. It is a cap that no one need wish for, orlaugh at. And why not? Well, we shall hear in the story.
  In olden times, Hauschen Street was not paved, and passengerswould stumble out of one hole into another, as they generally do inunfrequented highways; and the street was so narrow, and the boothsleaning against each other were so close together, that in thesummer time a sail would be stretched across the street from one boothto another opposite. At these times the odor of the pepper, saffron,and ginger became more powerful than ever. Behind the counter, as arule, there were no young men. The clerks were almost all old boys;but they did not dress as we are accustomed to see old menrepresented, wearing wigs, nightcaps, and knee-breeches, and with coatand waistcoat buttoned up to the chin. We have seen the portraits ofour great-grandfathers dressed in this way; but the "pepper gentlemen"had no money to spare to have their portraits taken, though one ofthem would have made a very interesting picture for us now, if takenas he appeared standing behind his counter, or going to church, oron holidays. On these occasions, they wore high-crowned, broad-brimmedhats, and sometimes a younger clerk would stick a feather in his.The woollen shirt was concealed by a broad, linen collar; the closejacket was buttoned up to the chin, and the cloak hung loosely overit; the trousers were tucked into the broad, tipped shoes, for theclerks wore no stockings. They generally stuck a table-knife and spoonin their girdles, as well as a larger knife, as a protection tothemselves; and such a weapon was often very necessary.
  After this fashion was Anthony dressed on holidays andfestivals, excepting that, instead of a high-crowned hat, he wore akind of bonnet, and under it a knitted cap, a regular nightcap, towhich he was so accustomed that it was always on his head; he had two,nightcaps I mean, not heads. Anthony was one of the oldest of theclerks, and just the subject for a painter. He was as thin as alath, wrinkled round the mouth and eyes, had long, bony fingers,bushy, gray eyebrows, and over his left eye hung a thick tuft of hair,which did not look handsome, but made his appearance veryremarkable. People knew that he came from Bremen; it was not exactlyhis home, although his master resided there. His ancestors were fromThuringia, and had lived in the town of Eisenach, close by Wartburg.Old Anthony seldom spoke of this place, but he thought of it all themore.
  The old clerks of Hauschen Street very seldom met together; eachone remained in his own booth, which was closed early enough in theevening, and then it looked dark and dismal out in the street. Onlya faint glimmer of light struggled through the horn panes in thelittle window on the roof, while within sat the old clerk, generallyon his bed, singing his evening hymn in a low voice; or he would bemoving about in his booth till late in the night, busily employed inmany things. It certainly was not a very lively existence. To be astranger in a strange land is a bitter lot; no one notices youunless you happen to stand in their way. Often, when it was dark nightoutside, with rain or snow falling, the place looked quite desertedand gloomy. There were no lamps in the street, excepting a verysmall one, which hung at one end of the street, before a picture ofthe Virgin, which had been painted on the wall. The dashing of thewater against the bulwarks of a neighboring castle could plainly beheard. Such evenings are long and dreary, unless people can findsomething to do; and so Anthony found it. There were not always thingsto be packed or unpacked, nor paper bags to be made, nor the scales tobe polished. So Anthony invented employment; he mended his clothes andpatched his boots, and when he at last went to bed,- his nightcap,which he had worn from habit, still remained on his head; he hadonly to pull it down a little farther over his forehead. Very soon,however, it would be pushed up again to see if the light wasproperly put out; he would touch it, press the wick together, and atlast pull his nightcap over his eyes and lie down again on the otherside. But often there would arise in his mind a doubt as to whetherevery coal had been quite put out in the little fire-pan in the shopbelow. If even a tiny spark had remained it might set fire tosomething, and cause great damage. Then he would rise from his bed,creep down the ladder- for it could scarcely be called a flight ofstairs- and when he reached the fire-pan not a spark could be seen; sohe had just to go back again to bed. But often, when he had got halfway back, he would fancy the iron shutters of the door were notproperly fastened, and his thin legs would carry him down again. Andwhen at last he crept into bed, he would be so cold that his teethchattered in his head. He would draw the coverlet closer round him,pull his nightcap over his eyes, and try to turn his thoughts fromtrade, and from the labors of the day, to olden times. But this wasscarcely an agreeable entertainment; for thoughts of olden memoriesraise the curtains from the past, and sometimes pierce the heartwith painful recollections till the agony brings tears to the wakingeyes. And so it was with Anthony; often the scalding tears, likepearly drops, would fall from his eyes to the coverlet and roll on thefloor with a sound as if one of his heartstrings had broken.Sometimes, with a lurid flame, memory would light up a picture of lifewhich had never faded from his heart. If he dried his eyes with hisnightcap, then the tear and the picture would be crushed; but thesource of the tears remained and welled up again in his heart. Thepictures did not follow one another in order, as the circumstancesthey represented had occurred; very often the most painful wouldcome together, and when those came which were most full of joy, theyhad always the deepest shadow thrown upon them.
  The beech woods of Denmark are acknowledged by every one to bevery beautiful, but more beautiful still in the eyes of old Anthonywere the beech woods in the neighborhood of Wartburg. More grand andvenerable to him seemed the old oaks around the proud baronial castle,where the creeping plants hung over the stony summits of the rocks;sweeter was the perfume there of the apple-blossom than in all theland of Denmark. How vividly were represented to him, in aglittering tear that rolled down his cheek, two children at play- aboy and a girl. The boy had rosy cheeks, golden ringlets, and clear,blue eyes; he was the son of Anthony, a rich merchant; it was himself.The little girl had brown eyes and black hair, and was clever andcourageous; she was the mayor's daughter, Molly. The children wereplaying with an apple; they shook the apple, and heard the pipsrattling in it. Then they cut it in two, and each of them took half.They also divided the pips and ate all but one, which the littlegirl proposed should be placed in the ground.
  "You will see what will come out," she said; "something youdon't expect. A whole apple-tree will come out, but not directly."Then they got a flower-pot, filled it with earth, and were soon bothvery busy and eager about it. The boy made a hole in the earth withhis finger, and the little girl placed the pip in the hole, and thenthey both covered it over with earth.
  "Now you must not take it out to-morrow to see if it has takenroot," said Molly; "no one ever should do that. I did so with myflowers, but only twice; I wanted to see if they were growing. Ididn't know any better then, and the flowers all died."
  Little Anthony kept the flower-pot, and every morning during thewhole winter he looked at it, but there was nothing to be seen butblack earth. At last, however, the spring came, and the sun shone warmagain, and then two little green leaves sprouted forth in the pot.
  "They are Molly and me," said the boy. "How wonderful they are,and so beautiful!"