The Bird of Paradise,the holy swan of song! On the car of Thespis he sat in the guise ofa chattering raven, and flapped his black wings, smeared with the leesof wine; over the sounding harp of Iceland swept the swan's redbeak; on Shakspeare's shoulder he sat in the guise of Odin's raven,and whispered in the poet's ear "Immortality!" and at the minstrels'feast he fluttered through the halls of the Wartburg.
  The Phoenix bird, dost thou not know him? He sang to thee theMarseillaise, and thou kissedst the pen that fell from his wing; hecame in the radiance of Paradise, and perchance thou didst turn awayfrom him towards the sparrow who sat with tinsel on his wings.
  The Bird of Paradise- renewed each century- born in flame,ending in flame! Thy picture, in a golden frame, hangs in the halls ofthe rich, but thou thyself often fliest around, lonely anddisregarded, a myth- "The Phoenix of Arabia."
  In Paradise, when thou wert born in the first rose, beneath theTree of Knowledge, thou receivedst a kiss, and thy right name wasgiven thee- thy name, Poetry.
  THE END.
  1872
  FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
  THE PORTER'S SON
  by Hans Christian Andersen
  THE General lived in the grand first floor, and the porter livedin the cellar. There was a great distance between the two families-the whole of the ground floor, and the difference in rank; but theylived in the same house, and both had a view of the street, and of thecourtyard. In the courtyard was a grass-plot, on which grew a bloomingacacia tree (when it was in bloom), and under this tree satoccasionally the finely-dressed nurse, with the still morefinely-dressed child of the General- little Emily. Before themdanced about barefoot the little son of the porter, with his greatbrown eyes and dark hair; and the little girl smiled at him, andstretched out her hands towards him; and when the General saw thatfrom the window, he would nod his head and cry, "Charming!" TheGeneral's lady (who was so young that she might very well have beenher husband's daughter from an early marriage) never came to thewindow that looked upon the courtyard. She had given orders, though,that the boy might play his antics to amuse her child, but mustnever touch it. The nurse punctually obeyed the gracious lady'sorders.
  The sun shone in upon the people in the grand first floor, andupon the people in the cellar; the acacia tree was covered withblossoms, and they fell off, and next year new ones came. The treebloomed, and the porter's little son bloomed too, and looked like afresh tulip.
  The General's little daughter became delicate and pale, like theleaf of the acacia blossom. She seldom came down to the tree now,for she took the air in a carriage. She drove out with her mamma,and then she would always nod at the porter's George; yes, she usedeven to kiss her hand to him, till her mamma said she was too old todo that now.
  One morning George was sent up to carry the General the lettersand newspapers that had been delivered at the porter's room in themorning. As he was running up stairs, just as he passed the door ofthe sand-box, he heard a faint piping. He thought it was some youngchicken that had strayed there, and was raising cries of distress; butit was the General's little daughter, decked out in lace and finery.
  "Don't tell papa and mamma," she whimpered; "they would be angry."
  "What's the matter, little missie?" asked George.
  "It's all on fire!" she answered. "It's burning with a brightflame!"