Page:The fairy tales of Hans Christian Andersen (c1899).djvu/267

 men; but they looked quite different from us. A much richer imagination than the pseudo-Herschel's had called them into existence. If they were placed in groups, and then painted, one would say: "That is a pretty arabesque." They had, too, a language of their own; though nobody could require of the watchman's soul to understand it. Nevertheless, it was able to do so; for our souls have far greater capabilities than is generally supposed. Does it not show an astonishing talent for dramatic composition in our dreams, where each of our acquaintances speaks so perfectly in character, and so exactly in the voice belonging to him, that we should never be able to mimic it half so well in our waking hours? How well, too, our soul reminds us of persons whom we have forgotten for years, when they suddenly start up to our recollection with the most vivid distinctness, even to their smallest characteristics. After all, our souls' capacity for thinking seems to place us in a somewhat ticklish position: it enables us to recall every sin and every wicked thought we may have indulged in; and then the question will arise, whether we should be in a condition account for every guilty word that m have been whispered in our hearts have risen to our lips.

The watchman's soul, according understood the language of the inhabitants of the moon very tolerably. They were disputing about our earth, and doubted whether it could be inhabited. The atmosphere, they contended, must be too thick for rational, moon-born beings to live in it. They considered that the moon alone was inhabited, and was the real earth, where lived the ancient inhabitants of the world.

They likewise talked politics—but we will descend to East Street, and see what happened to the watchman's body.

It lay lifeless on the steps. His star-tipped mace had fallen from his hand, and his eyes were turned upwards to the moon, where his honest soul was rambling.

"What's o'clock, watchman?" asked a passer-by. But no answer did the watchman return. The young fellow then filliped his nose, which made him lose his balance. There lay the body, sprawling at full length: the man was dead. All his comrades were very much frightened—dead he was, and dead he remained. Notice was given of the event; it was talked over; and at dawn the body was removed to the hospital.

This was likely to prove a pretty joke for the soul, in case it returned, and, in all probability, went to seek for its body in East Street, and could not find it. Most likely, it would have applied first to the police, and next repaired to the directory office, that inquiries might be made for it amongst other lost articles; and, lastly, have found its way to the hospital. However, we may comfort ourselves with the conviction that the soul is wisest when acting on its own impulse; the body alone makes it stupid.

As before said, the watchman's body was carried to the hospital, where it was taken into a room to be cleaned, when, naturally, the first thing they did was to take off the goloshes, thereby forcing his soul to return. It immediately took the straightest road to its earthly tenement, and in a couple of seconds the poor man had revived. He assured the bystanders that this had been the most dreadful night in his existence: he would not take two gold pieces to be obliged to undergo such sensations over again. However, luckily, it was over now.

He was discharged that same day, but the goloshes remained in the hospital.