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 talk about them; so that this delicate talent of his was not the one to make him write good books about real life, for in the world there are both good and bad. His plays and novels were not true to life; they were sentimental and boring, and only when Andersen has been able to describe nature in his novels does his poetic talent shine through.

Plants were Andersen's favorite things, as anyone can see who reads "The Fir Tree," "Little Ida's Flowers," or "The Snow Queen." "Flowers know that I love them," he said. He likened them to sleeping children, for he loved simplicity and unconsciousness. Only in the vegetable world he felt was there complete peace and harmony, without any jarring element. When he saw a fallen tree he felt he must weep, and when the buds began to swell in the spring, he would laugh aloud for joy. After flowers, Andersen loved birds better than four-footed animals, and then children. I suppose some people might be shocked at this. He didn't love children in the mass; there are, after all, nice and nasty children; but he had great friends among them.

When he was old, his admirers in Denmark put up a statue to him in Copenhagen, showing him as an old man with uplifted finger and a smiling face, surrounded by a host of children. It sounds all right to those who didn't know Andersen. Well, he was quite cross about it, and said he didn't feel like that at all. It was annoying to have himself represented