Page:Hans Andersen's Fairy Tales (1888).djvu/408



“In the inn parlour of a little provincial town,” said the moon, “sat a man who was travelling about with a bear. He was eating his supper. The bear was tied up outside against the palings. Poor Bruin! he would do no one any harm, though he looked grim enough. Up in the garret three little children were playing together by the light of my rays: the eldest might be six years old, the youngest not more than two. ‘Stump, stump;’ somebody was coming upstairs; who could it be? The door flew open; it was Bruin—great shaggy Bruin. He had got tired of waiting outside in the court, and had found his way to the stairs. I saw it all,” said the moon.

“The children were very much frightened at the great shaggy beast; each of them crept into a corner, but he found them all out and smelt them; but he did not hurt them. ‘This must be a great dog,’ they said, and began to stroke him. When he laid himself down on the ground, the youngest boy climbed on his back, hid his head, with its golden curls, in the beast’s shaggy fur, and played at hide-and-seek. Presently the eldest boy took his drum, and began to beat upon it till it rattled again. Then the bear rose up on his hind legs and began to dance. Oh, it was most charming to see. After that each boy took his gun, and gave the bear one also, which he held quite properly; this was indeed a splendid playfellow that they had found. Then they began to march, ‘One, two. One, two.’ Suddenly some one came to the door. It was the mother of the children. You should have seen her as she stood in dumb terror, with a face as white as chalk, her mouth half open, and her eyes fixed in a horrified stare. The youngest boy nodded to her joyfully, and said, ‘See, we are playing at soldiers.’ Then the bear’s master came running up.”

“Yesterday, in the morning twilight,” said the moon, “no chimneys were smoking in the great city; yet it was at the chimneys that I was looking. Suddenly, from one of them a little head popped out, and then half the body, the arms resting on the rim of the chimney-pot. ‘Sw-ee-p, sw-ee-p,’ cried a voice. It was a little chimney-sweeper, who for the first time in his life had climbed a chimney, and put his head out at the top. ‘Sw-ee-p, sw-ee-p!’ Yes, this was quite another thing than creeping through a dark, narrow chimney. The air blew so fresh, and he could look over the whole city to the green wood. Just then the sun rose round and large, and shone full in his face, which beamed with pleasure, though it was very handsomely smeared with black soot. ‘Now I can see the whole world,’ cried he. ‘The moon sees me, and the sun. Sw-ee-p, sw-ee-p,’ cried he, flourishing his broom in triumph.”

“I love children,” said the moon, “especially the very little ones; they are so droll. Many times I peep into the room between the curtain and