安徒生童話故事第10篇：幸運(yùn)的套鞋The Goloshes of Fortune

　　引導(dǎo)語：安徒生童話故事第10篇：幸運(yùn)的套鞋The Goloshes of Fortune

　　1.開　端

　　在哥本哈根東街離國王的新市場①不遠(yuǎn)的一幢房子里，有人開了一個(gè)盛大的晚會，因?yàn)槿绻�一個(gè)人想被回請的話，他自己也得偶爾請請客才成呀。有一半的客人已經(jīng)坐在桌子旁玩撲克牌，另一半的客人們卻在等待女主人布置下一步的消遣：“唔，我們現(xiàn)在想點(diǎn)什么來玩玩吧!”他們的晚會只發(fā)展到這個(gè)地步，他們盡可能地聊天。在許多話題中間，他們忽然談到“中世紀(jì)”這個(gè)題目上來。有人認(rèn)為那個(gè)時(shí)代比我們這個(gè)時(shí)代要好得多。是的，司法官克那卜熱烈地贊成這個(gè)意見，女主人也馬上隨聲附和。他們兩人竭力地反對奧爾斯德特在《年鑒》上發(fā)表的一篇論古代和近代的文章。

　　這篇文章基本上稱贊現(xiàn)代。但司法官卻認(rèn)為漢斯②王朝是一個(gè)最可愛、最幸福的時(shí)代。

　　談話既然走向兩個(gè)極端，除了有人送來一份內(nèi)容不值一讀的報(bào)紙以外，沒有什么東西打斷它——我們暫且到放外套、手杖、雨傘和套鞋的前房去看一下吧。這兒坐著兩個(gè)女仆人——一個(gè)年輕，一個(gè)年老。你很可能以為她們是來接她們的女主人——一位老小姐或一位寡婦——回家的。不過，假如你仔細(xì)看一下的話，你馬上會發(fā)現(xiàn)她們并不是普通的傭人：她們的手很嬌嫩，行動(dòng)舉止很大方。她們的確是這樣;她們的衣服的式樣也很特別。她們原來是兩個(gè)仙女。年輕的這個(gè)并不是幸運(yùn)女神本人，而是替女神傳送幸運(yùn)小禮物的一個(gè)女仆。年長的那個(gè)的外表非常莊嚴(yán)——她是憂慮女神。無論做什么事情，她總是親自出馬，因?yàn)橹挥羞@樣她才放心。

　　她們談著她們這天到一些什么地方去過。幸運(yùn)女神的女仆只做了幾件不太重要的事情，例如：她從一陣驟雨中救出了一頂嶄新的女帽，使一個(gè)老實(shí)人從一個(gè)地位很高的糊涂蛋那里得到一聲問候，以及其他類似的事情。不過她馬上就要做的一件事情卻很不平常。

　　“我還得告訴你，”她說，“今天是我的生日。為了慶祝這個(gè)日子，我奉命把一雙幸運(yùn)的套鞋送到人間去。這雙套鞋有一種特性：凡是穿著它的人馬上就可以到他最喜歡的地方和時(shí)代里去，他對于時(shí)間或地方所作的一切希望，都能得到滿足;因此下邊的凡人也可以得到一次幸福!”

　　“請相信我，”憂慮女神說，“他一定會感到苦惱。當(dāng)他一脫下這雙套鞋時(shí)，他一定會說謝天謝地!”

　　“你這是說的什么話?”對方說。“我現(xiàn)在要把這雙套鞋放在門口。誰要是錯(cuò)穿了它，就會變得幸福!”

　　這就是她們的對話。

　　①這是哥本哈根市中心的一個(gè)大廣場，非常熱鬧。

　�、跐h斯(Hans，1455-1513)是丹麥的國王，1481年兼做瑞典的國王。

　　2.司法官的遭遇

　　時(shí)間已經(jīng)不早了。醉心于漢斯的朝代的司法官克那卜想要回家去。事情湊巧得很：他沒有穿上自己的套鞋，而穿上了幸運(yùn)的套鞋。他向東街走去。不過，這雙套鞋的魔力使他回到300年前國王漢斯的朝代里去了，因此他的腳就踩著了街上的泥濘和水坑，因?yàn)樵谀莻�(gè)時(shí)代里，街道是沒有鋪石的。

　　“這真是可怕——臟極了!”司法官說。“所有的鋪道全不見了，路燈也沒有了!”

　　月亮出來還沒有多久，空氣也相當(dāng)沉悶，因此周圍的一切東西都變成漆黑一團(tuán)。在最近的一個(gè)街角里，有一盞燈在圣母像面前照著，不過燈光可以說是有名無實(shí)：他只有走到燈下面去才能注意到它，才能看見抱著孩子的圣母畫像。

　　“這可能是一個(gè)美術(shù)館，”他想，“而人們卻忘記把它的招牌拿進(jìn)去。”

　　有一兩個(gè)人穿著那個(gè)時(shí)代的服裝在他身邊走過去了。

　　“他們的樣子真有些古怪，”他說。“他們一定是剛剛參加過一個(gè)化裝跳舞會。”

　　這時(shí)忽然有一陣鼓聲和笛聲飄來，也有火把在閃耀著。司法官停下步子，看到一個(gè)奇怪的游行行列走過去了，前面一整排鼓手，熟練地敲著鼓。后面跟著來的是一群拿著長弓和橫弓的衛(wèi)士。行列的帶隊(duì)人是一位教會的首長。驚奇的司法官不禁要問，這場面究竟是為了什么，這個(gè)人究竟是誰?

　　“這是西蘭①的主教!”

　　“老天爺!主教有什么了不起的事兒要這樣做?”司法官嘆了一口氣，搖了搖頭。這不可能是主教!

　　司法官思索著這個(gè)問題，眼睛也不向左右看;他一直走過東街，走到高橋廣場。通到宮前廣場的那座橋已經(jīng)不見了，他只模糊地看到一條很長的溪流。最后他遇見兩個(gè)人，坐在一條船里。

　　“您先生是不是擺渡到霍爾姆去?”他們問。

　　“到霍爾姆去?”司法官說。他完全不知道他在一個(gè)什么時(shí)代里走路。”我要到克利斯仙碼頭、到小市場去呀!”

　　那兩個(gè)人呆呆地望著他。

　　“請告訴我橋在什么地方?”他說。“這兒連路燈也沒有，真是說不過去。而且遍地泥濘，使人覺得好像是在沼澤地里走路似的!”

　　的確他跟這兩個(gè)船夫越談越糊涂。

　　“我不懂得你們波爾霍爾姆的土話!”他最后生氣地說，而且還把背掉向他們。他找不到那座橋，甚至連橋欄桿也沒有了。

　　“這里的情形太不像話!”他說。他從來沒有想到他的時(shí)代會像今晚這樣悲慘。

　　“我想我還是叫一輛馬車吧!”他想，可是馬車到什么地方去了呢?——一輛也看不見。”我看我還是回到皇家新市場去吧，那兒停著許多馬車;不然的話，我恐怕永遠(yuǎn)走不到克利斯仙碼頭了。”

　　現(xiàn)在他向東街走去。當(dāng)他快要走完的時(shí)候，月亮忽然出來了。

　　“我的天，他們在這兒搭了一個(gè)什么架子?”他看到東門的時(shí)候說。東門在那時(shí)代恰恰是在東街的盡頭。

　　最后他找到一個(gè)門。穿過這個(gè)門，他就來到我們的新市場，不過那時(shí)它是一片廣大的草地，草地上有幾簇灌木叢，還有一條很寬的運(yùn)河或溪流在中間流過去。對面岸上有幾座不像樣的木柵，它們是專為荷蘭來的船長們搭起來的，因此這地方也叫做荷蘭草地。

　　“要么我現(xiàn)在看到了大家所謂的虛無鄉(xiāng)，要么我大概是喝醉了，”司法官嘆了口氣說。“這到底是什么呢?這到底是什么呢?”

　　他往回走，心中想自己一定是病了。他在街上一邊走，一邊更仔細(xì)地看看街上的房子。這大多數(shù)都是木房子，有許多還蓋著草頂。

　　“不成，我病了!”他嘆了一口氣。“我不過只喝了一杯混合酒!不過這已經(jīng)夠使我醉了;此外拿熱鮭魚給我們下酒也的確太糟糕。我要向女主人——事務(wù)官的太太抗議!不過，假如我回去，把實(shí)際情況告訴他們，那也有點(diǎn)可笑，而且他們有沒有起床還是問題。”

　　他尋找這家公館，可是沒有辦法找到。

　　“這真可怕極了!”他叫起來。“我連東街都不認(rèn)識了。一個(gè)店鋪也沒有。我只能看到一些可憐的破屋子，好像我是在羅斯基爾特或林斯德特一樣!哎呀，我病了!這沒有什么隱瞞的必要�？墒鞘聞�(wù)官的公館在什么地方呢?它已經(jīng)完全變了樣子;不過里面還有人沒睡。哎呀，我是病了!”

　　他走到一扇半開的門前，燈光從一個(gè)隙縫里射出來。這是那時(shí)的一個(gè)酒店——一種啤酒店。里面的房間很像荷爾斯泰因的前房②。有一堆人，包括水手、哥本哈根的居民和一兩個(gè)學(xué)者坐在里面。他們一邊喝酒，一邊聊天。他們對于這位新來的客人一點(diǎn)也不在意。

　　“請您原諒，”司法官對著向他走來的老板娘說，“我有點(diǎn)不舒服!您能不能替我雇一輛馬車，把我送到克利斯仙碼頭去?”

　　老板娘看了他一眼，搖搖頭，然后用德文和他講話。

　　司法官猜想她大概不會講丹麥文，因此把他的要求又用德文講了一遍。他的口音和他的裝束使得老板娘相信他是一個(gè)外國人。她馬上懂得了他有些不舒服，因此倒了一杯水給他喝。水很咸，因?yàn)槟鞘菑耐膺吘�里取來的�?/p>

　　司法官用手支著頭，深深地吸了一口氣，思索著在他周圍所發(fā)生的一些怪事情。

　　“這是今天的日歷嗎?”當(dāng)他看到老板娘把一大張紙撕掉的時(shí)候，為了要打破沉寂，他說。

　　她不懂得他的意思，不過她把這張紙遞給了他。這是一張描繪訶龍城上空所常見的一種幻象的木刻。

　　“這是一張非常老的東西呀!”司法官說。他看到這件古物，感到非常高興。“您怎樣弄到這張稀有的古畫的?雖然它代表一個(gè)寓言，但是它是非常有趣的!現(xiàn)在人們把這些常見的幻象解釋成為北極光;可能它是由電光所形成的!”

　　坐在他身旁和聽他講話的人，都莫明其妙地望著他。其中有一位站起來，恭恭敬敬地摘下帽子，做出一種很莊嚴(yán)的表情，說：

　　“先生，足下一定是當(dāng)代的一位大學(xué)者!”

　　“哦，豈敢!”司法官回答說，“我所了解的只不過是一知半解，事實(shí)上這些事情大家都應(yīng)該知道的!”

　　“Modestia③是一種美德!”這人說。“不過我對于您的說法很覺得Mihisecusvidetur④;但我很希望能不下這個(gè)Judici-Um⑤。”

　　“請問我現(xiàn)在很榮幸地得以交談的這位先生是作何貴干?”司法官問。

　　“敝人是一個(gè)神學(xué)學(xué)士。”這人回答說。

　　這句回答對于司法官說來已經(jīng)夠了，他的頭銜與他的服裝很相稱。他想，這一定是一個(gè)老鄉(xiāng)村教師——一位像我們在尤蘭⑥還能碰得見的怪物。

　　“此地的確并不是LOCUSDOCENDI⑦，”這人說。“但我希望足下多發(fā)表一點(diǎn)意見來啟發(fā)我們。足下的古典書籍一定讀得不少。”

　　“唔，不錯(cuò)，”司法官說。“我是喜歡讀有用的古典著作的;不過我也喜歡讀近代的著作——只是《每日故事集》⑧是一本例外;老實(shí)講，這類書我們太多了。”

　　“《每日故事集》?”我們的學(xué)士問。

　　“是的，我指的是一般的流行小說。”

　　“原來如此!”這人微笑了一下，“這些書寫得很聰明，宮里的人都喜歡讀�；噬咸貏e喜歡讀關(guān)于伊文及哥甸先生的傳奇。這書描寫亞瑟王及其圓桌騎士的故事。他常常跟大臣們把這故事作為談笑的資料⑨。”

　　“這本書我倒還沒有讀過!”司法官說，“這一定是海貝爾格所出版的一本新書了。”

　　“不對，”學(xué)士說，“這書并不是由海貝爾格出版的，而是由高得夫里·馮·格曼⑩出版的。”

　　“真的?他就是作者本人嗎?”司法官問。“這是一個(gè)很老的名字!這不也是丹麥第一個(gè)印刷所的名字嗎?”

　　“是的，他是我國印刷業(yè)的始祖。”這人回答說。

　　談話一直進(jìn)行得還不壞。這時(shí)另外有一位開始談到從前流行過一兩年的瘟疫：他指的是1484年的那次瘟疫。司法官以為他是在談霍亂病，所以他們的談話還勉強(qiáng)可以進(jìn)行下去。

　　1490年的�？軕�(zhàn)爭離那時(shí)還沒有多久，因此他們自然也要談到這個(gè)題目。他們說：英國的海盜居然從船塢里把船都搶走了。司法官親身經(jīng)歷過1801年的事件，因此他也理直氣壯地提出反英的意見。除此以外，談話進(jìn)行得可不太好：每一分鐘總有一次抬杠。那位了不起的學(xué)士不禁有些糊涂起來：司法官的最簡單的話語在他聽來不是顯得太粗魯，就是太荒唐。他們互相呆望著。事情一僵的時(shí)候，學(xué)士就講起拉丁文來。他以為這樣別人就可以懂得他的話了;不過事實(shí)上這一點(diǎn)用也沒有。

　　“現(xiàn)在您的感覺怎樣?”老板娘問，把司法官的袖子拉了一下。

　　現(xiàn)在他恢復(fù)了記憶力：在他剛才談話的時(shí)候，他把先前所發(fā)生的事情完全忘記了。

　　“我的天!我是在什么地方?”他說。他一想起這個(gè)問題就覺得頭昏。

　　“我得喝點(diǎn)紅葡萄酒!蜜酒和卜列門啤酒也好。”有一位客人說，“請您也來跟我們一起喝吧。”

　　這時(shí)兩個(gè)女孩子走進(jìn)來了，其中一個(gè)戴著一頂有兩種顏色的帽子。她們倒出酒來，行了曲膝禮。司法官的背上冷了半截。“這是怎么一回事兒?”他說。但是他不得不和他們一起喝酒。他們對這位好先生非�？蜌猓�弄得他簡直不曉得怎樣辦才好。有一個(gè)人說他醉了，他對這句話沒有絲毫的懷疑，他要求他們替他喊一輛“德洛西基”⑾來。于是大家就以為他在講莫斯科方言了。

　　他從來沒有跟這樣一群粗魯和庸俗的人混在一起過。

　　他想：這真叫人相信這個(gè)國家退化到野蠻時(shí)代了。“這真是我一生中最可怕的時(shí)刻。”

　　不過，在這同時(shí)，他的靈機(jī)一動(dòng)，想要鉆進(jìn)桌子底下，偷偷地爬到門那兒溜出去。但是當(dāng)他剛剛一爬到門口的時(shí)候，別人就發(fā)現(xiàn)了他的活動(dòng)。大家抱住他的雙腳。這時(shí)，也算是他的運(yùn)氣，他的一雙套鞋被拉掉了——因此整個(gè)的幻景也就消逝了。

　　司法官現(xiàn)在清楚地看見他面前點(diǎn)著一盞很亮的燈，燈后面有一幢大房子。他認(rèn)識這房子和它周圍的別的房子。這就是我們大家所知道的東街。他躺在地上，雙腳正對著大門�？撮T人坐在他對面，在打盹。

　　“我的天!難道我一直是躺在街上做夢么?”他說。“是的，這是東街!真是光明快樂，豐富多采!可怕得很，那杯混合酒居然把我弄得那樣醉!”

　　兩分鐘以后，他坐進(jìn)了一輛馬車，向克利斯仙碼頭馳去。

　　他把他剛才經(jīng)歷過的不安和苦惱思索了一下，他不禁衷心地稱贊幸福的現(xiàn)實(shí)——我們所處的這個(gè)時(shí)代。我們這個(gè)時(shí)代雖然缺點(diǎn)不少，比起他剛才進(jìn)入的那個(gè)時(shí)代究竟好得多。

　　你看，司法官的想法并不是沒有道理的。

　�、俚�麥全國分做三大區(qū)，西蘭(Sjaelland)是其中的一區(qū)。

　　②石勒蘇益格-荷爾斯泰因(Schteswig-Holstein)是德國北部的一個(gè)州。荷爾斯泰因的前房是一種寬大的房間，里面的陳設(shè)全是些粗大的家具、箱子和柜子等。

　　③拉丁文，“謙虛”的意思。

　�、芾�丁文，“不以為然”的意思。

　�、堇�丁文，“判斷”的意思。

　�、抻忍m(Jutland)是丹麥的一個(gè)省份。

　�、呃�丁文，“文教地區(qū)”的意思。

　�、唷睹咳展适录�》(Hverdagshistorierne)是丹麥作家Gyllembourg Ehrensvurd的第一部小說。

　�、醽喩�王的圓桌騎士是在歐洲流傳很廣的關(guān)于一群騎士的冒險(xiǎn)故事。這兒是指丹麥國王漢斯與他的一個(gè)喜歡讀這故事的朝臣奧托·路德的一段對話。國王漢斯說：“這本書里所描寫的伊文和哥甸先生真是了不起的騎士，像這樣的騎士現(xiàn)在再也找不到了!”奧托·路德回答說：“如果還有像亞瑟王那樣的國王，當(dāng)然可以找到像伊文和哥甸那樣的騎士的!'(見丹麥作家荷爾堡著《丹麥王國史》)

　　⑩這是漢斯王朝的丹麥第一個(gè)印刷匠。他在1495年出版的《丹麥詩韻》(Den Danske Rimkronike)是第一部用丹麥文印的書。

　�、�“德洛西基”(Droshky)是過去俄國的一種馬車。

　　3.守夜人的故事

　　“咳，這兒有一雙套鞋!”守夜人說。“這一定是樓上的那位中尉的套鞋。恰恰放在門邊!”

　　這位老實(shí)人倒是很想按按門鈴，把套鞋交給原主的，因?yàn)闃巧系臒暨�是亮著。不過他不愿意把屋子里的人吵醒，所以就不這樣做了。

　　“穿上這樣一雙東西一定很暖和!”他說。“皮子是這樣柔軟!”鞋子恰恰適合他的腳。”這個(gè)世界也真是滑稽!中尉現(xiàn)在可能已經(jīng)在他溫暖的床上睡了，但是你相信他會睡嗎?他正在房間里走來走去呢。他真是一個(gè)幸福的人!他既沒有妻子，也沒有孩子!他每天晚上總是去參加一個(gè)什么晚會。我希望我能像他，這樣我也可以成為一個(gè)幸福的人了!”

　　當(dāng)他說出了他的愿望以后，他所穿上的這雙套鞋就立刻產(chǎn)生效果：這個(gè)守夜人在身體和思想方面就變成了那位中尉。他現(xiàn)在是在樓上的房間里，手指間夾著一小張粉紅色的紙，紙上寫的是一首詩——中尉親手寫的一首詩，因?yàn)槿藗冊谝簧�中誰都有過富有詩意的一瞬間。如果一個(gè)人把這一瞬間的思想寫下來，那么他就可說是在作詩了。下面是中尉寫的詩：

　　“讓我發(fā)財(cái)吧!”

　　“讓我發(fā)財(cái)吧!”我祈禱過好幾次，

　　那時(shí)我不過是一兩尺高的孩子。

　　讓我發(fā)財(cái)吧!我要成一個(gè)軍官，

　　戴上羽毛，穿起制服，掛上寶劍。

　　后來我居然也當(dāng)上了軍官，

　　可是很不幸，我一直沒有發(fā)財(cái)!

　　上帝呀，請您伸出援助的手來!

　　有天晚上——我是既幸福又年青，

　　一個(gè)七歲的姑娘吻了我的嘴唇，

　　因?yàn)槲沂且粋�(gè)擁有故事和童話的富人，

　　可是說到錢財(cái)，我仍然是窮得要命。

　　不過孩子對于童話卻非常歡迎，

　　所以我很富有，只是，唉，沒有錢，

　　我們的上帝清清楚楚知道這一點(diǎn)!

　　我仍向上帝祈禱：”讓我發(fā)財(cái)吧!”

　　那個(gè)七歲的姑娘現(xiàn)在已經(jīng)長大。

　　她是那么美麗、聰明和善良;

　　唯愿她知道我心中對她的向往，

　　唯愿她對我好，像從前那樣。

　　但是我很窮，不敢對她表示：

　　這就是我們的上帝的意旨!

　　只要我發(fā)財(cái)，過得舒服和愉快，

　　我也就不在紙上寫下我的悲哀。

　　我熱戀的人啊，如果你對我了解，

　　請讀這首詩——它代表我的青春時(shí)代。

　　不過最好你還是對我不要了解，

　　因?yàn)槲液芨F，前途是一團(tuán)漆黑——

　　愿我們的上帝祝福你!

　　是的，當(dāng)一個(gè)人在戀愛的時(shí)候，他會寫詩的，不過頭腦清醒的人不至于把這種詩印出來罷了。這位中尉是正在戀愛和窮困之中，而且他的戀愛還是一個(gè)三角——也可以說是一個(gè)打碎了的幸福的四角的一半。中尉尖銳地感覺到自己的處境，因此他把頭靠著窗框，深深地嘆了一口氣。

　　“街上那個(gè)窮苦的守夜人比我要快樂得多。他不知道我所謂的‘窮困’。他有一個(gè)家、一個(gè)老婆和許多孩子——他們?yōu)樗�的苦惱而流眼淚，為他的快樂而歡笑。啊!如果我能變成他，我會比現(xiàn)在要幸福得多，因?yàn)樗�的確比我幸福!”

　　在一瞬間，守夜人又恢復(fù)到守夜人的原狀。原來他是由于“幸運(yùn)的套鞋”的魔力才變成中尉的;我們已經(jīng)知道他并不感到滿意，而情愿回復(fù)他的本來面目。因此守夜人又變成了守夜人。

　　“這真是一個(gè)丑惡的夢!”他說，“但是也夠滑稽。我覺得我曾經(jīng)變成了樓上的中尉，但這并不是一件很痛快的事情。我想念我的老婆和孩子們，他們這時(shí)正準(zhǔn)備著大批的吻，要把我親個(gè)半死。”

　　他又坐下來，點(diǎn)點(diǎn)頭。這夢并不馬上在他的思想中消逝，因?yàn)樗�腳上仍然穿著那雙套鞋。這時(shí)天上有一顆流星滑落下來了。

　　“它落下來了!”他說。”但是落也落不完的，多著呢。我倒想更仔細(xì)地瞧瞧這些東西，特別是這一輪月亮，因?yàn)樗�不會從手里滑走的。我的女人�?jīng)常替一位大學(xué)生洗衣服，那位大學(xué)生常常說，我們死了以后，就從這顆星飛到那顆星。這話并不可靠，不過，假如真是這樣，那倒也很妙。如果我能飛到那兒去，即使我的軀殼躺在樓梯上，我也不在乎。”

　　在這世界上，有些話我們說出來的時(shí)候，必須萬分謹(jǐn)慎，尤其是當(dāng)我們穿上了”幸運(yùn)的套鞋”的時(shí)候。請聽聽發(fā)生在守夜人身上的故事吧。

　　就我們?nèi)苏f來，我們差不多都知道蒸汽輸送東西是多么迅速;這種事我們已經(jīng)在鐵道上或在海上的輪船中試驗(yàn)過。但是跟光線的速度比起來，這不過只等于樹懶①的動(dòng)作或蝸牛的爬行罷了。光比最快的駿馬還要快1900萬倍，可是電的速度更要快。死不過是我們心中所受到的一種觸電，被解放了的靈魂，騎在電的翅膀上，就可以遠(yuǎn)走高飛。太陽只須八分和幾秒鐘就可以走完將近兩億里的路程。靈魂騎上電力，要走同樣的路程，只須幾秒鐘就夠了。就解放了的靈魂說來，各種行星之間的距離，不會比我們住在同一城市中的朋友的房子之間的距離大，甚至于還不會比住在近鄰的朋友的房子之間的距離大。不過在人間的世界里，除非我們像守夜人一樣穿上了“幸運(yùn)的套鞋”，我們的心一觸電，我們就永遠(yuǎn)跟身體分家了。

　　在幾秒鐘之內(nèi)，守夜人走了72.8萬里，到月亮上面去了。我們知道，組成月球的物質(zhì)比我們的地球要輕得多，而且還很柔軟，像剛下的雪一樣。他來到一群數(shù)不清的山組成的大環(huán)形山——我們早就在麥特勒博士②所繪的月球圖上看到這些環(huán)形山——他來到其中的一座山上。你也看到過的吧?在這一環(huán)大山當(dāng)中，有一個(gè)像鍋一樣的深坑，它凹下去有八九里深�？酉旅嬗幸粋�(gè)城市。它的形狀很像裝在玻璃杯里的水中的蛋白;這兒的尖塔、圓屋頂和像船帆一樣的陽臺，浮在透明的、稀薄的空氣中，也是同樣地輕，同樣地白。我們的地球浮在他的頭上像一個(gè)火紅的大球。

　　他馬上看見了許多的生物。這些東西無疑就是我們所謂的“人類”了，不過他們的樣子跟我們顯然不同。他們也說一種語言，但是誰也不能指望守夜人的靈魂能夠聽懂。但是他居然聽懂了。

　　守夜人的靈魂懂得月球上居民的語言，而且懂得很透徹。關(guān)于我們的地球他們爭論了一番，他們懷疑地球上能不能住人，地球上的空氣對于聰明的月球上的居民說來一定是太厚，不適宜于居住。他們認(rèn)為只是月球上才能有生物，而且月球才是最初人類所居住的地方。③

　　不過我們還是回到下界的東街去，看看守夜人的軀殼是怎樣吧。

　　他坐在樓梯上，一點(diǎn)生氣也沒有。他的晨星④已經(jīng)從他的手里落下來了，他的一雙眼睛呆呆地盯著月亮，尋找他那個(gè)正在月亮里游覽的誠實(shí)的靈魂。

　　“現(xiàn)在是幾點(diǎn)鐘了，守夜人?”一個(gè)路過的人問。不過守夜人一聲也不回答。于是這人就輕輕地把他的鼻子揪一下，這使他失去了平衡。他的軀殼直直地倒下來——他死了。揪他鼻子的人這時(shí)感到非常害怕起來。守夜人是死了，而且也僵了。這事被報(bào)告上去，并且也經(jīng)過了一番研究。第二天早晨這尸體被運(yùn)到醫(yī)院里去。

　　如果這靈魂回來而到東街去找它的軀殼，結(jié)果又找不到，那可真是一樁有趣的笑話啦!很可能它會先到警察署去，隨后到戶口登記處去，因?yàn)樵谶@些地方他可以登記尋找失物。最后它可能會找到醫(yī)院里去。不過我們也不必?fù)?dān)心，當(dāng)靈魂自己處理自己事情的時(shí)候，它是很聰明的。使得靈魂愚蠢的倒是這具軀殼。

　　我們已經(jīng)說過，守夜人的軀殼已經(jīng)被抬到醫(yī)院里去了，而且還被運(yùn)到洗滌間去了。人們在這兒要做的第一件事當(dāng)然是先脫掉他的套鞋。這么一來，靈魂就回來了。它直接回到軀殼上來，這人馬上就活轉(zhuǎn)來了。他坦白地說這是他一生中最可怕的一夜。你就是送給他兩塊錢，他也不愿意再嘗試這種事情。不過現(xiàn)在一切都已成了過去。

　　在這同一天，他得到許可離開醫(yī)院，不過他的套鞋仍然留在那兒。

　�、龠@是中、南美洲所產(chǎn)的一種動(dòng)物。它的舉動(dòng)遲鈍，常常待在樹上不動(dòng)。

　�、邴溙乩�(Johan Heinrich von Madler，1794-1874)是德國的一位天文學(xué)家。

　�、圻@篇故事里關(guān)于月球上的事情是出于想象的，其實(shí)月球上沒有水和空氣，也沒有生物和居民。

　�、苓@是守夜人用的一種木棒，它的頭上有一顆木雕的晨星。

　　4.偉大的一刻、一次朗誦、一件極不平常的旅行

　　哥本哈根的每個(gè)居民都知道哥本哈根佛列得里克醫(yī)院的大門的樣子。不過，也許有少數(shù)不住在哥本哈根的人會讀到這個(gè)故事，所以我們不妨把它描寫一番。

　　醫(yī)院是用一排相當(dāng)高的柵欄和街道隔開的。不過這些粗鐵桿之間的距離很寬，據(jù)說有些很瘦的實(shí)習(xí)醫(yī)生居然能從柵欄中擠出去，而在外面溜達(dá)一番。身體最不容易擠出去的一部分是腦袋。在這種情形下，小腦袋是幸運(yùn)的了——這也是世界上常見的事情。作為一個(gè)介紹，這敘述已經(jīng)夠了。

　　一個(gè)年輕的實(shí)習(xí)醫(yī)生——此人的頭腦從生理上說，是頗為偉大的——這天晚上恰巧值班。雨在傾盆地下著;不過，雖然有這種不便，他仍是想出去——哪怕出去一刻鐘也行。他覺得自己沒有把這事情告訴門房的必要，特別是他現(xiàn)在可以從柵欄中間溜出去。守夜人留下的那雙套鞋正放在那兒。他做夢也沒有想到這是一雙“幸運(yùn)的套鞋”。像這樣的陰雨天，它們對他是很有用的，所以他就穿上了。現(xiàn)在的問題是：他能不能從這鐵柵欄中間擠出去，因?yàn)樗麖膩頉]有試過。現(xiàn)在他就站在這兒。

　　“我的天，我真希望能把頭擠出去!”他說。雖然他的頭非常笨重，但是他馬上就輕松愉快地把頭擠出去了。這大概是套鞋聽懂了他的愿望的緣故。不過現(xiàn)在他的身軀也得擠出去才成。然而這卻辦不到。

　　“噢，我太胖了!”他說。“我起初還以為我的腦袋最糟糕哩!現(xiàn)在我的身體卻擠不出去了。”

　　他現(xiàn)在又希望把頭縮回來，可是行不通。他只能自由地動(dòng)動(dòng)脖子，別的都辦不到，他當(dāng)時(shí)的一個(gè)感覺是要發(fā)脾氣，接著他的心情就低落到了零點(diǎn)。“幸運(yùn)的套鞋”造成這樣一個(gè)可怕的局面，而且不幸的是，他自己也沒有產(chǎn)生一個(gè)解脫自己的愿望。沒有。他只是想掙脫，結(jié)果是寸步難移。雨在傾盆地下著;街上一個(gè)人也沒有。他的手又夠不到門鈴，那么他怎樣能獲得自由呢?他怕自己不得不在這兒待到第二天早晨。那時(shí)人們就可以去叫一個(gè)鐵匠來，把柵欄銼斷。不過這不是立即就可以辦到的。對面學(xué)校的男孩子不久就要起床，水手區(qū)的居民也將會到來，特別來看他被圈在枷里的樣子。這么一來，跑來看他的人比去年看角力比賽的人恐怕還要多了。

　　“哎呀!血沖進(jìn)我的腦袋，我要發(fā)瘋了!是的，我要發(fā)瘋了!啊，我希望得到自由，那么我的頭痛也就可以好了。”

　　這句話他應(yīng)該早點(diǎn)說才好。他剛一說出了他的想法，他的腦袋就自由了。他趕快往里跑，“幸運(yùn)的套鞋”所造成的這番恐怖已經(jīng)把他的頭弄昏了。

　　不過我們不要以為事情就這么完結(jié)。糟糕的事兒還在后面呢。

　　晚上過去了，第二天也接著過去了，誰也沒有來尋找這雙套鞋。

　　晚間加尼克街上的小劇場里有一個(gè)表演會，戲院里已經(jīng)擠滿了人。在節(jié)目中有一個(gè)新詩朗誦的項(xiàng)目。我們聽吧。詩是這樣的：

　　姨媽①的眼鏡

　　我的祖母是出名的聰明，

　　在“古時(shí)候”她準(zhǔn)會被燒焚②。

　　她知道古往今來的許多事情，

　　能看出下一年會有什么發(fā)生。

　　一直看到“第四十年”——真不簡單，

　　但她對于這事總是秘而不宣。

　　明年究竟有哪些事情重要?

　　一點(diǎn)也不錯(cuò)，我都想知道：

　　我的命運(yùn)、藝術(shù)、世事和國家，

　　但是我的祖母卻一言不發(fā)。

　　我只好逼她，這辦法倒生效：

　　她沉默一會，馬上就發(fā)牢騷。

　　這牢騷簡直等于對牛彈琴，

　　我是一個(gè)被她慣壞了的人!

　　“你的心愿這次我讓你滿足，”

　　她說，一面把眼鏡交給我。

　　“拿著它隨便到什么地方，

　　只要有許多上等人在場;

　　你可以隨便觀察什么人：

　　你看人只須用我的眼鏡。

　　相信我的話吧，他們顯出來

　　像攤在桌上被人玩的紙牌：

　　它們可以預(yù)言未來的事情。”

　　我說了聲謝謝，就跑去實(shí)驗(yàn)，

　　但是，哪里有最多的人出現(xiàn)?

　　在朗利尼嗎?這兒容易傷風(fēng)。

　　在東街嗎?咳!這兒泥濘太重!

　　在戲院嗎?這地方倒很愉快，

　　它晚間的節(jié)目演得很不壞。

　　我來了!讓我介紹我的姓名;

　　請準(zhǔn)許我?guī)�來姨媽的眼鏡

　　來瞧瞧你們——請不要走開!

　　我要看看你們像不像紙牌。

　　我憑紙牌預(yù)言我們時(shí)代的特點(diǎn)——

　　如果你們同意，你們就不必發(fā)言。

　　我感謝你們，我請你們吃飯，

　　我們現(xiàn)在可以來觀看觀看。

　　我要對你、我和王國作預(yù)言，

　　我們現(xiàn)在瞧瞧這紙牌上有什么出現(xiàn)。

　　(于是他戴上眼鏡。)

　　嗨，一點(diǎn)也不錯(cuò)!我要大笑!

　　呀，假如你們能親眼瞧瞧!

　　這兒花牌的數(shù)目真是不少，

　　還有美人，完全是一整套。

　　那些黑東西就是黑桃和梅花，

　　——我現(xiàn)在要仔細(xì)地觀察一下。

　　我看到一位了不起的黑桃姑娘，

　　方塊賈克占據(jù)了她的整個(gè)思想。

　　這景象真使我感到陶醉!

　　這家的錢財(cái)有一大堆，

　　還有客人來自世界各地，

　　但我們不一定感到興趣。

　　至于國會?我們正有時(shí)間瞧瞧!

　　不過這類的事兒你將會讀到。

　　我多講話就會使報(bào)紙感到不安，

　　因?yàn)檫@樣我就打破了他們的飯碗。

　　至于劇院?它的創(chuàng)造?趣味?格調(diào)?

　　不，我不愿跟經(jīng)理把關(guān)系弄糟。

　　至于我的前途?這是自己的事情，

　　咳，你知道，我對于它是多么關(guān)心!

　　我觀看——我不敢說出我看到了什么，

　　不過事情一發(fā)生你就會聽到結(jié)果。

　　我們在這兒哪一位是最幸運(yùn)?

　　最幸運(yùn)?我們可容易得出結(jié)論!

　　這就是……不對，這容易引起反感!

　　也很可能弄得許多人不安!

　　誰活得最長?這位先生，還是夫人?

　　不成，這不是可以隨便講的事情!

　　我作預(yù)言嗎?不好，不好，不好!

　　你看，我自己什么也不知道。

　　一開口就要得罪人，我真感到難辦!

　　我還不如瞧瞧他們的思想和信念，

　　憑我全套預(yù)言的本領(lǐng)，再作一次發(fā)現(xiàn)。

　　各位相信嗎?不，還是請各位發(fā)表意見。

　　各位心中有數(shù)：我們快要無結(jié)果而散。

　　你們都知道，我說的話全是無稽之談。

　　可尊敬的列位，我要告辭，

　　我要感謝你們的好意。

　　這首詩念得非常好，朗誦者獲得了極大的成功。實(shí)習(xí)醫(yī)生也坐在聽眾之中。他似乎已經(jīng)把他前天晚上的遭遇忘記得一干二凈。他還是穿著那雙套鞋，因?yàn)檎l也沒有來尋找它們。

　　街上既然很臟，它們對他仍然很有用處。

　　他似乎很喜歡這首詩。詩中的意思使他感到興趣：他倒很想有這么一副眼鏡呢。也許，一個(gè)人把它戴上，就可以看出別人的內(nèi)心吧。因此他覺得，能夠觀察出人的心，比起能推測來年所要發(fā)生的事故來要有趣得多。未來的事情遲早總會知道，而人的內(nèi)心卻是永遠(yuǎn)沒有辦法推測的。

　　“我現(xiàn)在倒想看看坐在前一排的那些紳士和淑女們：假如一個(gè)人真能夠直接進(jìn)到他們心里去的話!是的，那一定是一個(gè)空洞，一種店鋪之類的東西�？�，在這店鋪里，我的眼睛可以痛快地張望一番!那位太太的心無疑地將會是一個(gè)大時(shí)裝店!這位太太的心是一個(gè)空店，但把它掃空一次也沒有什么害處。可是貨物齊全的店鋪大概也不少。啊，對了!”他嘆了一口氣，“我知道有一個(gè)店，里面全是頭等的貨色，不過它里面已經(jīng)有了一個(gè)店員。這是它唯一的缺點(diǎn)!我從許多店里聽到這么一句話：‘請進(jìn)來吧!’啊，我希望我可以走進(jìn)去，像一個(gè)小小的思想鉆進(jìn)心里去一樣!”

　　他這種思想馬上得到套鞋的反應(yīng)。這位實(shí)習(xí)醫(yī)生立刻就不見了;他在前一排坐著的觀眾的心里開始做了一個(gè)不平常的旅行，他所經(jīng)過的第一顆心是一位太太的心。但是他立刻就覺得他走進(jìn)一個(gè)畸形軀體的治療所：在這里面醫(yī)生取下身上的石膏模子，改正身體的形態(tài)。他現(xiàn)在就在這樣的一個(gè)房間里，墻上掛著許多畸形肢腿的石膏模型。所不同的是，在治療所里，模型是在病人來了以后才鑄出來的;而在這顆心里，卻是在沒有病的人走了以后，才把這些模型鑄出來和保存下來，因?yàn)檫@都是一些女朋友的模型——她們在生理上和心理上的缺陷都在這兒保存了下來。

　　他馬上又鉆進(jìn)了另外一個(gè)女人的心里去。但是他覺得這顆心像一座神圣的大教堂;神龕里有一個(gè)純潔的白鴿子在飛翔。他很自然地想跪下來，但是卻不得不走開，到另一顆心里面去。他仍然能聽到教堂琴樓里的琴聲，同時(shí)他覺得自己已經(jīng)變成一個(gè)更好、更新的人。他覺得自己并不是沒有資格走進(jìn)第二個(gè)圣殿里去——這是一個(gè)蹩腳的頂樓，里面住著一個(gè)生病的母親。溫暖的太陽光從窗子射進(jìn)來，美麗的玫瑰花在屋頂上的一個(gè)小木箱里對她點(diǎn)著頭，兩只天藍(lán)色的小鳥在唱著兒時(shí)的歡樂的歌，這時(shí)生病的母親正在為她的女兒祈福。

　　現(xiàn)在他匍匐地爬進(jìn)一個(gè)屠夫的擺滿了東西的店里去。他所看到的只是肉，什么別的東西也沒有。這是一位有錢有勢的紳士的心，他的名字可以在名人錄里找得到。

　　現(xiàn)在他鉆進(jìn)這位紳士的太太的心里去：這顆心是一個(gè)東倒西歪的舊鴿子籠。丈夫的肖像被當(dāng)做一個(gè)風(fēng)信鴿來使用。它安裝在門上——這門隨著丈夫的轉(zhuǎn)動(dòng)而開合。

　　于是他走進(jìn)了一個(gè)全是鏡子的小室——像我們常常在羅森堡宮殿中所看到的那種小室。不過這些鏡子可以把形象放得特別大。在地中央，像達(dá)賴?yán)�嘛一樣，坐著房主人的渺小�?rdquo;我”。他在欣賞著自己的偉大。

　　隨后他覺得好像走進(jìn)了一個(gè)裝滿了尖針的小針盒。他想：“這一定是一位老小姐的心了!”可是事實(shí)上并不是如此。這是一位戴著許多勛章的年輕軍官——一個(gè)所謂好心腸的聰明人。

　　當(dāng)這位實(shí)習(xí)醫(yī)生從頭排最后一個(gè)人的心里鉆出來的時(shí)候，他頗感到有些兒混亂。他沒有辦法集中思想，他以為這是因?yàn)樗�的幻想太豐富，才會這樣胡思亂想。

　　“我的老天爺!”他嘆了一口氣，“我一定快要發(fā)瘋了。這兒熱得要命：血都涌向我的腦子里來了!”這時(shí)，他忽然記起了頭天晚上的事情：他的腦袋怎樣被嵌在醫(yī)院的柵欄的兩根鐵柱子中間，拔不出來。

　　“我的病一定是這樣得來的，”他想。“我一定要早點(diǎn)想個(gè)辦法。洗一次俄國澡可能有好處。我希望自己現(xiàn)在就躺在浴室最高的一層板上。”

　　馬上他就躺在蒸氣浴室的高板子上;不過他是穿著衣服、皮鞋和套鞋躺在那兒的。熱烘烘的水點(diǎn)從天花板上滴到他的臉上。

　　“唏!”他叫起來，同時(shí)跳下來去洗淋浴。

　　侍者看見這樣一位衣服整齊的人去洗淋浴，不禁大笑起來。

　　這位實(shí)習(xí)醫(yī)生的神智還相當(dāng)清楚，他說：“我為了打賭才這樣做呀!”當(dāng)他回到房間里去以后，他在頸項(xiàng)上貼了一塊膏藥，在背上也貼了一塊膏藥，想把他的瘋狂吸收掉。

　　第二天早晨他感到背上非常酸痛——這就是他從“幸運(yùn)的套鞋”那兒得到的收獲。

　�、龠@首打油詩的標(biāo)題是說姨媽(Moster)的眼鏡，但詩中卻又說是祖母(Bed-Stemoder)的眼鏡。大概安徒生信手寫來，把主題忘記了。

　�、谠跉W洲封建時(shí)代，巫婆被認(rèn)為是魔鬼的使者，常常被放在柴堆上燒死。這兒是說，祖母太聰明了，會被人認(rèn)為是巫婆。

　　5.一位錄事的變化

　　那個(gè)守夜人，我們一定還沒有忘記掉;他忽然記起了自己曾經(jīng)看到、并且送進(jìn)醫(yī)院里去的那雙套鞋。他現(xiàn)在來要把它們?nèi)∽摺２贿^，那位中尉既不接收它們，而街上也沒有任何人認(rèn)領(lǐng)。所以他只好把它們送到警察署去。

　　“這倒很像我的一雙套鞋，”一位錄事先生看到這雙無人認(rèn)領(lǐng)的東西時(shí)說。于是他把它們放在他自己的一雙套鞋旁邊。

　　“恐怕只有比鞋匠還銳利的眼睛才能把這兩雙套鞋區(qū)別開來。”

　　“錄事先生，”一個(gè)聽差的說，手中拿著幾張文件。

　　錄事掉過身來，跟這人說了幾句話。他說完了以后，又掉過身來再看看這雙套鞋。這時(shí)他就認(rèn)不清究竟左手的一雙是他的呢，還是右手的一雙是他的。

　　“那打濕了的一雙一定是我的，”他想。但是他的想法錯(cuò)了，因?yàn)檫@是“幸運(yùn)的套鞋”。難道警察就不會把東西弄錯(cuò)嗎?他把套鞋穿上，在衣袋里塞了幾份文件，在脅下也夾了幾份文件——因?yàn)樗�要帶回家去讀，以便摘出其中的要點(diǎn)。但是今天是星期天的早晨，而且天氣很好。他想，到佛列得里克斯堡公園去散散步，對于身體是有好處的。因此他就去了。

　　你在什么地方也找不出這樣一個(gè)安靜和勤快的年輕人。我們很愿意叫他去散散步。他坐的時(shí)間太長，散散步對他是有好處的。起初他只是邁著步子，什么東西也不想，所以這雙套鞋就沒有機(jī)會來施展它的魔力了。

　　他在路上遇見一個(gè)熟人——一個(gè)年輕的詩人。這詩人告訴他說，他明天就要開始一個(gè)夏季旅行。

　　“咳，你又要走了嗎?”錄事說。“你是一個(gè)多么幸福和自由的人啊!你想到什么地方去就到什么地方去。像我們這樣的人腳上都拖著鏈子。”

　　“而這鏈子是系在面包樹上的!”詩人回答說。“但是你不須為將來擔(dān)憂。等你老了，你就可以領(lǐng)到養(yǎng)老金呀!”

　　“比較起來，還是你痛快，”錄事說。“坐下來寫詩一定是極愉快的事情。大家都恭維你，同時(shí)你也是你自己的主人。啊，天天坐著背些法院里的瑣碎文件，你試試看!”

　　詩人搖了搖頭;錄事也搖了搖頭;每個(gè)人都保留著自己的意見。他們就這樣分手了。

　　“詩人們都是一批怪人!”錄事說。“我倒也希望進(jìn)入到他們的境界里——自己也做一個(gè)詩人!我肯定不會像他們一樣，光寫些發(fā)牢騷的詩。對于一個(gè)詩人說來，今天是一個(gè)多么美麗的春天日子啊!空氣是意外地新鮮，云彩是那么美麗，花木發(fā)出多么香的氣息!是的，幾年來我沒有過像現(xiàn)在這一忽兒的感覺。”

　　我們已經(jīng)知道，他成了一個(gè)詩人。這個(gè)改變的過程并不是很突然的;如果人們以為詩人跟別的人不同，那是很愚蠢的想法。在普通人當(dāng)中，有許多人的氣質(zhì)比那些公認(rèn)的詩人還更富有詩意呢。他們的差別是，詩人有更強(qiáng)的理智記憶力：他能牢牢地保持住感情和思想，直到它們清楚明白地形成字句為止，一般人是做不到這一點(diǎn)的。不過從一個(gè)平常的氣質(zhì)轉(zhuǎn)變?yōu)橐粋�(gè)天才，無論如何要算得是一個(gè)轉(zhuǎn)變過程。錄事現(xiàn)在就在經(jīng)歷這個(gè)過程。

　　“多么醉人的香氣呵!”他說。“這真叫我想起洛拉姑姑家的紫羅蘭來!是的，那是當(dāng)我還是一個(gè)小孩子的時(shí)候聞到的!天啦，我好久沒有想到這件事情!善良的老小姐!她住在交易所后面。不管冬天的氣候是怎樣寒冷，她總是在水里培養(yǎng)一根枝條和幾根綠芽。當(dāng)我把一個(gè)熱銅板貼在結(jié)了冰花窗的玻璃上來融化出一個(gè)視孔的時(shí)候，看見她的紫羅蘭盛開了。這是一個(gè)可愛的景象。外面的運(yùn)河上，船只都凍結(jié)在冰里，船員們都離去了;只有一只尖叫的烏鴉是唯一留下的生物。后來，當(dāng)春風(fēng)吹起的時(shí)候，一切又活躍起來了。人們在歡呼和喊聲中把冰層打開了;船也上了油，桅桿也配上了索具，于是它們便向海外的國家開去。但是我仍然留在這兒，而且永遠(yuǎn)留在這兒，坐在警察署里，讓別人好領(lǐng)取護(hù)照到外國去旅行。這就是我的命運(yùn)。啊，這就是生活!”

　　他深深地嘆了一口氣。但是他忽然又停住了，“我的天老爺!這是怎么一回事?我從來沒有像現(xiàn)在這樣的思想和感覺!這一定是春天的氣息在作怪!它既使人激動(dòng)，又使人感到愉快!”

　　他把手伸到衣袋里掏出文件。“這些東西現(xiàn)在可以分分我的心，”他說，同時(shí)讓自己的眼睛在第一頁上溜。“西格卜麗思夫人——五幕悲劇，”他念著。“這是怎么一回事?這還是我親手寫的字呢。難道我寫了這部悲劇嗎?散步場上的陰謀;或者，懺悔的日子——歌舞喜劇。我從什么地方弄到這些東西呢?一定是別人放進(jìn)我的衣袋里的�，F(xiàn)在又有一封信!”

　　是的，這是劇院的經(jīng)理寫來的。劇本被拒絕了，而且信里的字眼也很不客氣。

　　“哼!哼!”錄事說，同時(shí)在一個(gè)凳子上坐下來。他的思想是那么活躍，他的心是那么溫柔。他不自覺地扯下長在近旁的一朵花。這是一朵很普通的小雛菊。一個(gè)植物學(xué)家要花幾堂課才能對我們講得清楚的東西，這朵花只須一分鐘就解釋清楚了。它講出它出生的經(jīng)過，它講出太陽光的力量——太陽光使它細(xì)巧的葉兒展開，發(fā)出香氣。于是他想起了生活的斗爭;這斗爭也同樣喚醒我們胸中的情感。陽光和空氣都是花兒的愛人，不過陽光是更被愛的一位。它把面孔掉向陽光，只有當(dāng)陽光消逝了的時(shí)候，花兒才卷起葉子，在空氣的擁抱中睡過去。

　　“只有陽光才使我顯得漂亮!”花兒說。

　　“但是空氣使你呼吸!”詩人的聲音低語著。

　　他身旁站著一個(gè)小孩子，用一根棍子在一條泥溝里敲打，弄得幾滴泥水濺到樹枝上去了。于是錄事就想到，水滴里幾百萬看不見的微生物也必定被濺到空中去了。依照它們體積的比例，它們的情形也正像我們?nèi)祟惐蝗拥礁呖罩械脑茐K里去一樣。當(dāng)錄事想到這一點(diǎn)，以及他的思想中所起的整個(gè)變化的時(shí)候，他就微笑了。

　　“我是在睡覺，同時(shí)也是在做夢!一個(gè)人很自然地做起夢來，而同時(shí)又知道這是一場夢——這該是多么稀奇的事情啊!我希望明天醒來以后，還能把這一切記得清清楚楚。我有一種稀有的愉快的感覺。我現(xiàn)在什么東西都看得清楚!我覺得自己的頭腦非常清醒!不過，我知道，明天如果我能記得某些情景的話，我一定會覺得這是幻想;但是我已經(jīng)親身體驗(yàn)過，一切聰明和美麗的東西，正如妖精藏在地底下的錢一樣，人們只能在夢中聽到和談到。當(dāng)一個(gè)人得到這些東西的時(shí)候，他是豪華和富貴的;不過在陽光下檢查一下，它們就只是石頭和干枯的葉子罷了。啊!”

　　他嘆了一口氣，頗有點(diǎn)牢騷的情緒。他把在樹枝間跳躍著的、唱著歌的幾只小鳥兒凝望了一陣，說：

　　“它們比我幸福得多。飛翔是一種愉快的藝術(shù)。那些生而就能飛的動(dòng)物真是幸運(yùn)!是的，如果我會變成任何東西的話，我就希望變成這樣一只百靈鳥!”

　　不一會兒他的上衣后裾和袖子就聯(lián)到一起，變成一雙翅膀了。他的衣服變成了羽毛，套鞋變成了雀爪。他親眼看到這變化的過程，他內(nèi)心里不禁大笑起來。“唔，我現(xiàn)在知道了，我是在做夢，不過以前我從來沒有夢得這么荒唐。”于是他飛到那些綠枝間去，唱起歌來。但是他的歌聲中沒有詩，因?yàn)樗�詩人的氣質(zhì)現(xiàn)在已經(jīng)沒有了。這雙套鞋，像一個(gè)辦事徹底的人一樣，在一個(gè)固定的時(shí)間里只做一件事情。他希望做一個(gè)詩人，他就成了一個(gè)詩人了�，F(xiàn)在他希望做一只小鳥;但是既然成了一只鳥，他以前的特點(diǎn)就完全消失了。

　　“這也真夠滑稽!”他說。”白天我坐在警察署的枯燥乏味的公文堆里，夜間我就夢見自己在飛來飛去，成了佛列得里克斯堡公園里的一只百靈鳥。一個(gè)人倒真可以把這故事寫成一部通俗的喜劇呢。”

　　現(xiàn)在他飛到草地上來了。他把頭掉向四邊望，同時(shí)用嘴啄著一根柔軟的草梗。草梗與他的身體相比，似乎和北非洲棕櫚樹枝的長短差不多。

　　這一切不過是曇花一現(xiàn)而已。他的四周馬上又變成了漆黑的夜。他似乎覺得有一件巨大的物體落到頭上來——這是水手住宅區(qū)的一個(gè)孩子向這只百靈鳥頭上拋過來的一頂大帽子。一只手伸進(jìn)帽子里來了，把錄事的背和翅膀抓住，弄得他不得不唧唧喳喳地叫起來。他感到一陣驚恐的時(shí)候，大聲地叫道：

　　“你這個(gè)無禮的混蛋!我是警察署的書記呀!”

　　可是這聲音在孩子的耳中聽來只不過是一陣“唧唧!喳喳!”罷了。他在鳥兒的嘴上敲了兩下，帶著他走了。

　　在一個(gè)小巷里小孩碰見另外兩個(gè)孩子。這兩個(gè)人，就出身說，是屬于受過教養(yǎng)的那個(gè)階級的;可是就能力講，他們是屬于學(xué)校中最劣的一等。他們花了八個(gè)銀毫把這只小鳥買走了。因此這位錄事就被帶回到哥本哈根，住進(jìn)哥得街上的一個(gè)人家里去。

　　“幸好我是在做夢，”錄事說，“否則我就真要生氣了。起先我是一個(gè)詩人，現(xiàn)在我卻成了一只百靈鳥!是的，這一定是詩人的氣質(zhì)使我轉(zhuǎn)變成為這只小動(dòng)物的。這也真算是倒霉之至，尤其當(dāng)一個(gè)人落到小孩子手中去了的時(shí)候。我倒希望知道這會得到一個(gè)什么結(jié)果呢。”

　　孩子把他帶到一個(gè)非常漂亮的房間里去。一個(gè)微笑著的胖太太向他們走來。她把這只百靈鳥叫做一只普通的田野小鳥，不過當(dāng)她看到他們把它帶來的時(shí)候，她并不感到太高興。她只讓這小鳥在這兒待一天，而且他們還得把它關(guān)進(jìn)窗子旁的那只空籠子里去。

　　“也許它能逗得波貝高興一下吧，”她繼續(xù)說，望著一只大綠鸚鵡笑了一下。這鸚鵡站在一個(gè)漂亮銅籠子里的環(huán)子上，洋洋得意地蕩來蕩去。

　　“今天是波貝的生日，”她天真地說，“因此應(yīng)該有一個(gè)普通的田野小鳥來祝賀他。”

　　波貝一句話也不回答;他只是驕傲地蕩來蕩去。不過一只美麗的金絲鳥——他是去年夏天從他溫暖芬芳的祖國被帶到這兒來的——開始高聲地唱起來。

　　“多嘴的!”太太說，馬上把一條白手帕蒙在籠子上。

　　“唧唧!吱吱!”雀子嘆了一口氣，”她又在大發(fā)雷霆。“嘆了這口氣以后，他就不再做聲了。

　　錄事——或者引用太太的話，一只田野的小鳥——是關(guān)在靠近金絲鳥的一個(gè)雀籠里，離鸚鵡也不遠(yuǎn)。波貝所會說的唯一的人話——而且這話聽起來也很滑稽——是：“來吧，讓我們像一個(gè)人吧。”他所講的其他的話語，正如金絲鳥的歌聲一樣，誰也聽不懂。只有變成了一只小鳥的這位錄事，才能完全聽懂他的朋友的話語。

　　“我在青翠的棕櫚樹下飛，我在盛開的杏樹下飛!”金絲鳥唱著。“我和我的兄弟姐妹們在美麗的花朵上飛，在風(fēng)平浪靜的海上飛——那兒有植物在海的深處波動(dòng)。我也看見許多可愛的鸚鵡，他們講出許多那么長、那么有趣的故事。”

　　“這都是一些野鳥，”鸚鵡回答說。“他們沒有受過教育。來吧，讓我們像一個(gè)人吧——為什么不笑呢?如果太太和所有的客人們都能發(fā)笑，你也應(yīng)該能發(fā)笑呀。對于幽默的事情不能領(lǐng)會，這是一個(gè)很大的缺點(diǎn)。來吧，讓我們像一個(gè)人吧。”

　　“你記得那些美麗的少女在花樹下的帳篷里跳舞嗎?你記得那些野生植物的甜果子和清涼的果汁嗎?”

　　“啊，對了!”鸚鵡說，“不過我在這兒要快樂得多。我吃得很好，得到親熱的友情。我知道自己有一個(gè)很好的頭腦，我再也不需要什么別的東西了。讓我們像一個(gè)人吧!你是人們所謂的一個(gè)富有詩意的人，但是我有高深的學(xué)問和幽默感。你有天才，可是沒有理智。你唱著你那一套自發(fā)的高調(diào)，弄得人頭昏腦漲，難怪人家要打你。人家卻不能這樣對待我，因?yàn)樗麄兏冻隽烁�高的代價(jià)才得到我呀。我可以用我的尖嘴引起他們的重視，唱出一個(gè)‘味茲!味茲!味茲!’的調(diào)子!來吧，現(xiàn)在讓我們像一個(gè)人吧!”

　　“呵，我溫暖的、多花的祖國呵!”金絲鳥唱著。“我歌頌?zāi)愕那啻涞臉淞郑�我歌頌�(zāi)愕陌察o的海灣——那兒的樹枝吻著平滑如鏡的水面。我歌頌我的一些光彩的兄弟和姊妹的歡樂——他們所在的地方長著‘沙漠的泉水’①!”

　　“請你不要再唱這套倒霉的調(diào)子吧!”鸚鵡說。“唱一點(diǎn)能夠叫人發(fā)笑的東西呀!笑聲是智力發(fā)達(dá)的最高表現(xiàn)。你看看一只狗或一匹馬會不會笑!不，它們只會哭;只有人才會笑。哈!哈!哈!”波貝笑起來，同時(shí)又說了一句老話：“讓我們像一個(gè)人吧。”

　　“你這只灰色的丹麥小雀子，”金絲鳥說，“你也成了一個(gè)俘虜!你的森林固然是很寒冷的，但那里面究竟還有自由呀�？祜w走吧!他們剛好忘記關(guān)你的籠子;上面的窗子還是開著的呀。飛走吧!飛走吧!”

　　錄事就這樣辦了，他馬上飛出籠子。在這同時(shí)，隔壁房間半掩著的門嘎吱地響了一下，一只家貓目光閃閃地偷偷走了進(jìn)來，在他后面追趕。金絲鳥在籠里激動(dòng)地跳著，鸚鵡拍著翅膀，同時(shí)叫著：”讓我們像一個(gè)人吧。”錄事嚇得要死，趕快從窗子飛出去，飛過一些屋子和許多街道。最后他不得不休息一會兒。

　　對面的一幢房子他似乎很面熟。它有一個(gè)窗子是開著的，所以他就飛進(jìn)去了。這正是他自己的房間，便在桌子上棲息下來。

　　“讓我們像一個(gè)人吧!”他不知不覺地仿著鸚鵡的口氣這樣說了。在這同時(shí)，他恢復(fù)到他錄事的原形。不過他是坐在桌子上的。

　　“我的天老爺!”他叫了一聲，”我怎么到這兒來了，睡得這么糊涂?我做的這場夢也真夠混亂。這全部經(jīng)過真是荒唐透頂!”

　�、僦�“仙人掌”。

　　6.幸運(yùn)的套鞋所帶來的最好的東西

　　第二天大清早，當(dāng)錄事還躺在床上的時(shí)候，有人在他的門上輕輕地敲了幾下。這是住在同一層樓上的一位鄰居。他是一個(gè)研究神學(xué)的學(xué)生。他走進(jìn)來了。

　　“把你的套鞋借給我穿穿好嗎?”他說，“花園里很潮濕，但是太陽卻照得非常美麗。我想在那兒抽幾口煙。”

　　他穿上了套鞋，馬上就到花園里去了。這兒只長著一棵李樹和一棵梨樹。就是這樣一個(gè)小花園，在哥本哈根也是一件了不起的東西。

　　學(xué)生在小徑上走來走去。這正是6點(diǎn)鐘的時(shí)候。街上已經(jīng)響起了郵差的號角聲。

　　“啊，游歷!游歷!”他叫出聲來。“這是世界上一件最快樂的事情!這也是我的最高愿望，我的一些煩惱的感覺，也就可以沒有了。可是要游歷必須走得很遠(yuǎn)!我很想去看看美麗的瑞士，到意大利去旅行一下，和——”

　　是的，很幸運(yùn)，套鞋馬上就發(fā)生了效力，否則他可能還想得更遠(yuǎn)，也使我們想得更遠(yuǎn)。他現(xiàn)在在旅行了。他和其他八位旅客緊緊地偎在一輛馬車?yán)�，到達(dá)了瑞士的中部。他有點(diǎn)兒頭痛，脖子也有點(diǎn)兒酸，腳也在發(fā)麻，因?yàn)樘仔�把兩只腳弄得又腫又痛。他是處在一個(gè)半睡半醒的狀態(tài)之中。他右邊的衣袋里裝著旅行支票，左邊的衣袋里放有護(hù)照，胸前掛著一個(gè)小袋，里面緊緊地縫著一些金法郎，他每次睡著的時(shí)候，就夢見這三樣財(cái)產(chǎn)之中有一件被人扒走了。于是他就像在發(fā)熱似的驚醒過來：他的第一個(gè)動(dòng)作是用手做了一個(gè)三角形的姿勢：從左摸到右，再摸到他的胸前，看看他的這些財(cái)產(chǎn)是不是還存在。雨傘、帽子和手杖在他頭頂上的行李網(wǎng)里搖來搖去，幾乎把人們的注意力從那些動(dòng)人的風(fēng)景吸引走了。

　　他望著窗外的風(fēng)景，心里唱出至少一位我們認(rèn)識的詩人曾經(jīng)在瑞士唱過的、但是還沒有發(fā)表過的歌來：

　　這風(fēng)景很優(yōu)美，正合我的心愿，

　　在這座可愛的勃朗峰①的面前。

　　待在這兒欣賞欣賞，很是痛快，

　　假如你帶著足夠的錢到這兒來。

　　周圍的大自然是偉大、莊嚴(yán)、深沉的。杉樹林看起來像長在深入云霄的石崖上的石楠花簇�，F(xiàn)在開始下雪了，風(fēng)吹得很冷。

　　“噢!”他嘆了一口氣，“如果我們在阿爾卑斯山的另一邊，氣候就應(yīng)該是夏天了，同時(shí)我也可以把我的旅行支票兌出錢來了;我老是為這張紙擔(dān)憂，弄得我不能享受瑞士的風(fēng)景。啊，我希望我現(xiàn)在是在山的另一邊!”

　　他馬上就在山的另一邊的意大利境內(nèi)了——在佛羅倫薩和羅馬之間。夕陽照耀下的特拉西門涅湖②，看起來像是青翠的群山中一泓金色的溶液。漢尼拔在這兒打敗了佛拉米尼烏斯，葡萄藤在這兒伸出綠枝，安靜地互相擁抱著;路旁一叢芬芳的桂樹下有一群可愛的、半裸著的孩子在放牧一群黑炭一般的豬。假如我們能把這風(fēng)景描繪出來，大家一定要?dú)g呼：“美麗的意大利!”但是這位神學(xué)學(xué)生和馬車?yán)锏娜魏慰腿硕紱]有說出這句話。

　　有毒的蒼蠅和蚊蚋成千成萬地向車?yán)镲w來。他們用桃金娘的枝條在空中亂打了一陣，但蒼蠅照舊叮著他們。車?yán)餂]有一個(gè)人的臉不發(fā)腫，不被咬得流血。那幾匹可憐的馬兒，看起來簡直像死尸。蒼蠅蜂擁似的叮著它們。只有當(dāng)車夫走下來，把這些蟲子趕掉以后，情況才好轉(zhuǎn)了幾分鐘。

　　現(xiàn)在太陽落下來了。一陣短促的、可是冰涼的寒氣透過了整個(gè)的大自然。這一點(diǎn)也不使人感到痛快，不過四周的山丘和云塊這時(shí)染上了一層最美麗的綠色，既清爽，又光潔——是的，你親眼去看一下吧，這會比讀游記要好得多!這真是美，旅行的人也都體會到這一點(diǎn)，不過——大家的肚皮都空了，身體也倦了，每一顆心只希望找一個(gè)宿夜的地方。但是怎樣才能達(dá)到這個(gè)目的呢?大家的心思都花在這個(gè)問題上，而沒有去看這美麗的大自然。

　　路伸向一個(gè)橄欖林：這使人覺得好像是在家鄉(xiāng)多結(jié)的柳樹之間經(jīng)過似的。正在這塊地方有一座孤零零的旅店。有一打左右的殘廢的乞丐守在它面前。他們之中最活潑的一位看起來很像饑餓之神的、已經(jīng)成年的長子。其余的不是瞎子就是跛子，所以他們得用手來爬行。另外有些人手臂發(fā)育不全，手上連手指也沒有。這真是一群穿上了襤褸衣服的窮困的化身。

　　“老爺，可憐可憐窮人吧!”他們嘆息著，同時(shí)伸出殘廢的手來。

　　旅店的老板娘，打著一雙赤腳，頭發(fā)亂蓬蓬的，只穿著一件很臟的緊身上衣，來接待這些客人進(jìn)來。門是用繩子系住的;房間的地上鋪著磚，可是有一半已經(jīng)被翻起來了。蝙蝠在屋頂下面飛，而且還有一股氣味——

　　“好吧，請?jiān)隈R廄里開飯吧!”旅客中有一位說，“那兒人們起碼可以知道他所呼吸的是什么東西。”

　　窗子都大開著，好讓新鮮空氣流進(jìn)來，不過，比空氣還要快的是伸進(jìn)來的一些殘廢的手臂和一個(gè)老不變的聲音：“老爺，可憐可憐窮人吧!”墻上有許多題詞，但一半以上是對“美麗的意大利”不利的。

　　晚飯開出來了。這是一碗清水淡湯，加了一點(diǎn)調(diào)味的胡椒和發(fā)臭的油。涼拌生菜里也是這同樣的油。發(fā)霉的雞蛋和烤雞冠算是兩樣最好的菜。就連酒都有一種怪味——它是一種可怕的混合物。

　　晚間大家搬來一堆箱子放在門后擋著門，并且選出一個(gè)人來打更，好使其余的人能睡覺。那位神學(xué)學(xué)生就成了更夫。啊，這兒是多么沉悶啊!熱氣在威逼著人，蚊蚋在嗡嗡地叫，在刺著人。外邊的窮人們在夢中哭泣。

　　“是的，游歷是很愉快的，”神學(xué)學(xué)生嘆了一口氣說，“我只希望一個(gè)人沒有身軀!我希望身軀能躺著不動(dòng)，讓心靈去遨游!無論我到什么地方去，我總覺得缺乏一件什么東西，使我的心不快——我所希望的是一件比此刻還要好的什么東西。是的，某種更美好的東西——最好的東西。不過這在什么地方呢?這究竟是什么呢?在我心里，我知道我要的是什么東西：我想要達(dá)到一個(gè)幸運(yùn)的目的——一個(gè)最幸運(yùn)的目的!”

　　他一說完這話，就回到自己的家里來了。長長的白窗簾掛在窗上，屋子中央停著一具漆黑的棺材。他是在死的睡眠中，在這棺材里面，他的愿望達(dá)到了：他的身軀在休息，他的精神在遨游。索龍③曾說過：任何人在還沒有進(jìn)棺材以前，不能算是快樂的。這句話現(xiàn)在又重新得到了證實(shí)。

　　每具尸體是一個(gè)不滅的斯芬克斯④�，F(xiàn)在躺在我們面前這個(gè)黑棺材里的斯芬克斯所能講的也不外乎活人在兩天前所寫下的這段話：

　　堅(jiān)強(qiáng)的死神呵!你的沉默引起我們的害怕，教堂墓地的墳?zāi)故悄�留下的唯一記號�?/p>

　　難道我的靈魂已經(jīng)從雅各的梯子跌下，

　　只能在死神的花園⑤里變成荒草?

　　世人看不見我們最大的悲凄!

　　啊你!你是孤獨(dú)的，一直到最后。

　　這顆心在世上所受到的壓力，

　　超過堆在你的棺材上的泥土!

　　這屋子里有兩個(gè)人影在活動(dòng)。她們兩人我們都認(rèn)識：一位是憂慮的女神，一位是幸運(yùn)的使者。她們在死人身上彎下腰來察看。

　　“你看到?jīng)]有?”憂慮的女神說，“你的套鞋帶給了人間什么幸福?”

　　“最低限度它把一項(xiàng)持久的好處帶給在這兒睡著的人。”

　　幸運(yùn)的使者說。

　　“哦，你錯(cuò)了!”憂慮的女神說，“他是自動(dòng)去的，死神并沒有召他去。他還沒有足夠的精神力量去完成他命中注定要完成的任務(wù)!我現(xiàn)在要幫他一點(diǎn)忙。”

　　于是她把他腳上的那雙套鞋拉下來。死的睡眠因而也就中止了。這位復(fù)蘇的人站起來。憂慮的女神走了，那雙套鞋也不見了;無疑地，她認(rèn)為這雙套鞋是她自己的財(cái)產(chǎn)。

　�、俨�朗峰(Mont-Blanc)是歐洲南部的阿爾卑斯山脈的主峰，在法國和意大利之間，高達(dá)4807米。

　�、谔乩�西門涅湖是意大利中部的一個(gè)大湖，公元217年，原來駐扎在西班牙的迦太基軍隊(duì)，在漢尼拔將軍領(lǐng)導(dǎo)下，在這里打敗了羅馬帝國的大將佛拉米尼烏斯(Ellaminius)。

　�、鬯鼾�(Solon，公元前633-前559)是古代希臘七大智者之一。

　�、芩狗铱怂故侵赶ＥD神話中的一個(gè)怪物。它的頭像女人，身體像獅子，還有兩個(gè)翅膀。它對路過的人總是問一個(gè)富有哲學(xué)意味的謎語，猜不出的人就被它吞掉。

　�、葜改沟亍�

 

　　幸運(yùn)的套鞋英文版：

 

　　The Goloshes of Fortune

　　A Beginning

　　IN a house in Copenhagen, not far from the king’s new market, a very large party had assembled, the host and his family expecting, no doubt, to receive invitations in return. One half of the company were already seated at the card-tables, the other half seemed to be waiting the result of their hostess’s question, “Well, how shall we amuse ourselves?”

　　Conversation followed, which, after a while, began to prove very entertaining. Among other subjects, it turned upon the events of the middle ages, which some persons maintained were more full of interest than our own times. Counsellor Knapp defended this opinion so warmly that the lady of the house immediately went over to his side, and both exclaimed against Oersted’s Essays on Ancient and Modern Times, in which the preference is given to our own. The counsellor considered the times of the Danish king, Hans,1 as the noblest and happiest.

　　The conversation on this topic was only interrupted for a moment by the arrival of a newspaper, which did not, however, contain much worth reading, and while it is still going on we will pay a visit to the ante-room, in which cloaks, sticks, and goloshes were carefully placed. Here sat two maidens, one young, and the other old, as if they had come and were waiting to accompany their mistresses home; but on looking at them more closely, it could easily be seen that they were no common servants. Their shapes were too graceful, their complexions too delicate, and the cut of their dresses much too elegant. They were two fairies. The younger was not Fortune herself, but the chambermaid of one of Fortune’s attendants, who carries about her more trifling gifts. The elder one, who was named Care, looked rather gloomy; she always goes about to perform her own business in person; for then she knows it is properly done. They were telling each other where they had been during the day. The messenger of Fortune had only transacted a few unimportant matters; for instance, she had preserved a new bonnet from a shower of rain, and obtained for an honest man a bow from a titled nobody, and so on; but she had something extraordinary to relate, after all.

　　“I must tell you,” said she, “that to-day is my birthday; and in honor of it I have been intrusted with a pair of goloshes, to introduce amongst mankind. These goloshes have the property of making every one who puts them on imagine himself in any place he wishes, or that he exists at any period. Every wish is fulfilled at the moment it is expressed, so that for once mankind have the chance of being happy.”

　　“No,” replied Care; “you may depend upon it that whoever puts on those goloshes will be very unhappy, and bless the moment in which he can get rid of them.”

　　“What are you thinking of?” replied the other. “Now see; I will place them by the door; some one will take them instead of his own, and he will be the happy man.”

　　This was the end of their conversation.

　　What Happened to the Counsellor

　　IT was late when Counsellor Knapp, lost in thought about the times of King Hans, desired to return home; and fate so ordered it that he put on the goloshes of Fortune instead of his own, and walked out into the East Street. Through the magic power of the goloshes, he was at once carried back three hundred years, to the times of King Hans, for which he had been longing when he put them on. Therefore he immediately set his foot into the mud and mire of the street, which in those days possessed no pavement.

　　“Why, this is horrible; how dreadfully dirty it is!” said the counsellor; “and the whole pavement has vanished, and the lamps are all out.”

　　The moon had not yet risen high enough to penetrate the thick foggy air, and all the objects around him were confused together in the darkness. At the nearest corner, a lamp hung before a picture of the Madonna; but the light it gave was almost useless, for he only perceived it when he came quite close and his eyes fell on the painted figures of the Mother and Child.

　　“That is most likely a museum of art,” thought he, “and they have forgotten to take down the sign.”

　　Two men, in the dress of olden times, passed by him.

　　“What odd figures!” thought he; “they must be returning from some masquerade.”

　　Suddenly he heard the sound of a drum and fifes, and then a blazing light from torches shone upon him. The counsellor stared with astonishment as he beheld a most strange procession pass before him. First came a whole troop of drummers, beating their drums very cleverly; they were followed by life-guards, with longbows and crossbows. The principal person in the procession was a clerical-looking gentleman. The astonished counsellor asked what it all meant, and who the gentleman might be.

　　“That is the bishop of Zealand.”

　　“Good gracious!” he exclaimed; “what in the world has happened to the bishop? what can he be thinking about?” Then he shook his head and said, “It cannot possibly be the bishop himself.”

　　While musing on this strange affair, and without looking to the right or left, he walked on through East Street and over Highbridge Place. The bridge, which he supposed led to Palace Square, was nowhere to be found; but instead, he saw a bank and some shallow water, and two people, who sat in a boat.

　　“Does the gentleman wish to be ferried over the Holm?” asked one.

　　“To the Holm!” exclaimed the counsellor, not knowing in what age he was now existing; “I want to go to Christian’s Haven, in Little Turf Street.” The men stared at him. “Pray tell me where the bridge is!” said he. “It is shameful that the lamps are not lighted here, and it is as muddy as if one were walking in a marsh.” But the more he talked with the boatmen the less they could understand each other.

　　“I don’t understand your outlandish talk,” he cried at last, angrily turning his back upon them. He could not, however, find the bridge nor any railings.

　　“What a scandalous condition this place is in,” said he; never, certainly, had he found his own times so miserable as on this evening. “I think it will be better for me to take a coach; but where are they?” There was not one to be seen! “I shall be obliged to go back to the king’s new market,” said he, “where there are plenty of carriages standing, or I shall never reach Christian’s Haven.” Then he went towards East Street, and had nearly passed through it, when the moon burst forth from a cloud.

　　“Dear me, what have they been erecting here?” he cried, as he caught sight of the East gate, which in olden times used to stand at the end of East Street. However, he found an opening through which he passed, and came out upon where he expected to find the new market. Nothing was to be seen but an open meadow, surrounded by a few bushes, through which ran a broad canal or stream. A few miserable-looking wooden booths, for the accommodation of Dutch watermen, stood on the opposite shore.

　　“Either I behold a fata morgana, or I must be tipsy,” groaned the counsellor. “What can it be? What is the matter with me?” He turned back in the full conviction that he must be ill. In walking through the street this time, he examined the houses more closely; he found that most of them were built of lath and plaster, and many had only a thatched roof.

　　“I am certainly all wrong,” said he, with a sigh; “and yet I only drank one glass of punch. But I cannot bear even that, and it was very foolish to give us punch and hot salmon; I shall speak about it to our hostess, the agent’s lady. Suppose I were to go back now and say how ill I feel, I fear it would look so ridiculous, and it is not very likely that I should find any one up.” Then he looked for the house, but it was not in existence.

　　“This is really frightful; I cannot even recognize East Street. Not a shop to be seen; nothing but old, wretched, tumble-down houses, just as if I were at Roeskilde or Ringstedt. Oh, I really must be ill! It is no use to stand upon ceremony. But where in the world is the agent’s house. There is a house, but it is not his; and people still up in it, I can hear. Oh dear! I certainly am very queer.” As he reached the half-open door, he saw a light and went in. It was a tavern of the olden times, and seemed a kind of beershop. The room had the appearance of a Dutch interior. A number of people, consisting of seamen, Copenhagen citizens, and a few scholars, sat in deep conversation over their mugs, and took very little notice of the new comer.

　　“Pardon me,” said the counsellor, addressing the landlady, “I do not feel quite well, and I should be much obliged if you will send for a fly to take me to Christian’s Haven.” The woman stared at him and shook her head. Then she spoke to him in German. The counsellor supposed from this that she did not understand Danish; he therefore repeated his request in German. This, as well as his singular dress, convinced the woman that he was a foreigner. She soon understood, however, that he did not find himself quite well, and therefore brought him a mug of water. It had something of the taste of seawater, certainly, although it had been drawn from the well outside. Then the counsellor leaned his head on his hand, drew a deep breath, and pondered over all the strange things that had happened to him.

　　“Is that to-day’s number of the Day?”2 he asked, quite mechanically, as he saw the woman putting by a large piece of paper. She did not understand what he meant, but she handed him the sheet; it was a woodcut, representing a meteor, which had appeared in the town of Cologne.

　　“That is very old,” said the counsellor, becoming quite cheerful at the sight of this antique drawing. “Where did you get this singular sheet? It is very interesting, although the whole affair is a fable. Meteors are easily explained in these days; they are northern lights, which are often seen, and are no doubt caused by electricity.”

　　Those who sat near him, and heard what he said, looked at him in great astonishment, and one of them rose, took off his hat respectfully, and said in a very serious manner, “You must certainly be a very learned man, monsieur.”

　　“Oh no,” replied the counsellor; “I can only discourse on topics which every one should understand.”

　　“Modestia is a beautiful virtue,” said the man. “Moreover, I must add to your speech mihi secus videtur; yet in this case I would suspend myjudicium”.

　　“May I ask to whom I have the pleasure of speaking?”

　　“I am a Bachelor of Divinity,” said the man. This answer satisfied the counsellor. The title agreed with the dress.

　　“This is surely,” thought he, “an old village schoolmaster, a perfect original, such as one meets with sometimes even in Jutland.”

　　“This is not certainly a locus docendi,” began the man; “still I must beg you to continue the conversation. You must be well read in ancient lore.”

　　“Oh yes,” replied the counsellor; “I am very fond of reading useful old books, and modern ones as well, with the exception of every-day stories, of which we really have more than enough.”

　　“Every-day stories?” asked the bachelor.

　　“Yes, I mean the new novels that we have at the present day.”

　　“Oh,” replied the man, with a smile; “and yet they are very witty, and are much read at Court. The king likes especially the romance of Messeurs Iffven and Gaudian, which describes King Arthur and his knights of the round table. He has joked about it with the gentlemen of his Court.”

　　“Well, I have certainly not read that,” replied the counsellor. “I suppose it is quite new, and published by Heiberg.”

　　“No,” answered the man, “it is not by Heiberg; Godfred von Gehman brought it out.”

　　“Oh, is he the publisher? That is a very old name,” said the counsellor; “was it not the name of the first publisher in Denmark?”

　　“Yes; and he is our first printer and publisher now,” replied the scholar.

　　So far all had passed off very well; but now one of the citizens began to speak of a terrible pestilence which had been raging a few years before, meaning the plague of 1484. The counsellor thought he referred to the cholera, and they could discuss this without finding out the mistake. The war in 1490 was spoken of as quite recent. The English pirates had taken some ships in the Channel in 1801, and the counsellor, supposing they referred to these, agreed with them in finding fault with the English. The rest of the talk, however, was not so agreeable; every moment one contradicted the other. The good bachelor appeared very ignorant, for the simplest remark of the counsellor seemed to him either too bold or too fantastic. They stared at each other, and when it became worse the bachelor spoke in Latin, in the hope of being better understood; but it was all useless.

　　“How are you now?” asked the landlady, pulling the counsellor’s sleeve.

　　Then his recollection returned to him. In the course of conversation he had forgotten all that had happened previously.

　　“Goodness me! where am I?” said he. It bewildered him as he thought of it.

　　“We will have some claret, or mead, or Bremen beer,” said one of the guests; “will you drink with us?”

　　Two maids came in. One of them had a cap on her head of two colors.3 They poured out the wine, bowed their heads, and withdrew.

　　The counsellor felt a cold shiver run all over him. “What is this? what does it mean?” said he; but he was obliged to drink with them, for they overpowered the good man with their politeness. He became at last desperate; and when one of them said he was tipsy, he did not doubt the man’s word in the least—only begged them to get a droschky; and then they thought he was speaking the Muscovite language. Never before had he been in such rough and vulgar company. “One might believe that the country was going back to heathenism,” he observed. “This is the most terrible moment of my life.”

　　Just then it came into his mind that he would stoop under the table, and so creep to the door. He tried it; but before he reached the entry, the rest discovered what he was about, and seized him by the feet, when, luckily for him, off came the goloshes, and with them vanished the whole enchantment. The counsellor now saw quite plainly a lamp, and a large building behind it; everything looked familiar and beautiful. He was in East Street, as it now appears; he lay with his legs turned towards a porch, and just by him sat the watchman asleep.

　　“Is it possible that I have been lying here in the street dreaming?” said he. “Yes, this is East Street; how beautifully bright and gay it looks! It is quite shocking that one glass of punch should have upset me like this.”

　　Two minutes afterwards he sat in a droschky, which was to drive him to Christian’s Haven. He thought of all the terror and anxiety which he had undergone, and felt thankful from his heart for the reality and comfort of modern times, which, with all their errors, were far better than those in which he so lately found himself.

　　The Watchman’s Adventures

　　WELL, I declare, there lies a pair of goloshes,” said the watchman. “No doubt, they belong to the lieutenant who lives up stairs. They are lying just by his door.” Gladly would the honest man have rung, and given them in, for a light was still burning, but he did not wish to disturb the other people in the house; so he let them lie. “These things must keep the feet very warm,” said he; “they are of such nice soft leather.” Then he tried them on, and they fitted his feet exactly. “Now,” said he, “how droll things are in this world! There’s that man can lie down in his warm bed, but he does not do so. There he goes pacing up and down the room. He ought to be a happy man. He has neither wife nor children, and he goes out into company every evening. Oh, I wish I were he; then I should be a happy man.”

　　As he uttered this wish, the goloshes which he had put on took effect, and the watchman at once became the lieutenant. There he stood in his room, holding a little piece of pink paper between his fingers, on which was a poem,—a poem written by the lieutenant himself. Who has not had, for once in his life, a moment of poetic inspiration? and at such a moment, if the thoughts are written down, they flow in poetry. The following verses were written on the pink paper:—

　　“OH WERE I RICH!

　　“Oh were I rich! How oft, in youth’s bright hour,

　　When youthful pleasures banish every care,

　　I longed for riches but to gain a power,

　　The sword and plume and uniform to wear!

　　The riches and the honor came for me;

　　Yet still my greatest wealth was poverty:

　　Ah, help and pity me!

　　“Once in my youthful hours, when gay and free,

　　A maiden loved me; and her gentle kiss,

　　Rich in its tender love and purity,

　　Taught me, alas! too much of earthly bliss.

　　Dear child! She only thought of youthful glee;

　　She loved no wealth, but fairy tales and me.

　　Thou knowest: ah, pity me!

　　“Oh were I rich! again is all my prayer:

　　That child is now a woman, fair and free,

　　As good and beautiful as angels are.

　　Oh, were I rich in lovers’ poetry,

　　To tell my fairy tale, love’s richest lore!

　　But no; I must be silent—I am poor.

　　Ah, wilt thou pity me?

　　“Oh were I rich in truth and peace below,

　　I need not then my poverty bewail.

　　To thee I dedicate these lines of woe;

　　Wilt thou not understand the mournful tale?

　　A leaf on which my sorrows I relate—

　　Dark story of a darker night of fate.

　　Ah, bless and pity me!”

　　“Well, yes; people write poems when they are in love, but a wise man will not print them. A lieutenant in love, and poor. This is a triangle, or more properly speaking, the half of the broken die of fortune.” The lieutenant felt this very keenly, and therefore leaned his head against the window-frame, and sighed deeply. “The poor watchman in the street,” said he, “is far happier than I am. He knows not what I call poverty. He has a home, a wife and children, who weep at his sorrow and rejoice at his joy. Oh, how much happier I should be could I change my being and position with him, and pass through life with his humble expectations and hopes! Yes, he is indeed happier than I am.”

　　At this moment the watchman again became a watchman; for having, through the goloshes of Fortune, passed into the existence of the lieutenant, and found himself less contented than he expected, he had preferred his former condition, and wished himself again a watchman. “That was an ugly dream,” said he, “but droll enough. It seemed to me as if I were the lieutenant up yonder, but there was no happiness for me. I missed my wife and the little ones, who are always ready to smother me with kisses.” He sat down again and nodded, but he could not get the dream out of his thoughts, and he still had the goloshes on his feet. A falling star gleamed across the sky. “There goes one!” cried he. “However, there are quite enough left; I should very much like to examine these a little nearer, especially the moon, for that could not slip away under one’s hands. The student, for whom my wife washes, says that when we die we shall fly from one star to another. If that were true, it would be very delightful, but I don’t believe it. I wish I could make a little spring up there now; I would willingly let my body lie here on the steps.”

　　There are certain things in the world which should be uttered very cautiously; doubly so when the speaker has on his feet the goloshes of Fortune. Now we shall hear what happened to the watchman.

　　Nearly every one is acquainted with the great power of steam; we have proved it by the rapidity with which we can travel, both on a railroad or in a steamship across the sea. But this speed is like the movements of the sloth, or the crawling march of the snail, when compared to the swiftness with which light travels; light flies nineteen million times faster than the fleetest race-horse, and electricity is more rapid still. Death is an electric shock which we receive in our hearts, and on the wings of electricity the liberated soul flies away swiftly, the light from the sun travels to our earth ninety-five millions of miles in eight minutes and a few seconds; but on the wings of electricity, the mind requires only a second to accomplish the same distance. The space between the heavenly bodies is, to thought, no farther than the distance which we may have to walk from one friend’s house to another in the same town; yet this electric shock obliges us to use our bodies here below, unless, like the watchman, we have on the goloshes of Fortune.

　　In a very few seconds the watchman had travelled more than two hundred thousand miles to the moon, which is formed of a lighter material than our earth, and may be said to be as soft as new fallen snow. He found himself on one of the circular range of mountains which we see represented in Dr. Madler’s large map of the moon. The interior had the appearance of a large hollow, bowl-shaped, with a depth about half a mile from the brim. Within this hollow stood a large town; we may form some idea of its appearance by pouring the white of an egg into a glass of water. The materials of which it was built seemed just as soft, and pictured forth cloudy turrets and sail-like terraces, quite transparent, and floating in the thin air. Our earth hung over his head like a great dark red ball. Presently he discovered a number of beings, which might certainly be called men, but were very different to ourselves. A more fantastical imagination than Herschel’s must have discovered these. Had they been placed in groups, and painted, it might have been said, “What beautiful foliage!” They had also a language of their own. No one could have expected the soul of the watchman to understand it, and yet he did understand it, for our souls have much greater capabilities then we are inclined to believe. Do we not, in our dreams, show a wonderful dramatic talent? each of our acquaintance appears to us then in his own character, and with his own voice; no man could thus imitate them in his waking hours. How clearly, too, we are reminded of persons whom we have not seen for many years; they start up suddenly to the mind’s eye with all their peculiarities as living realities. In fact, this memory of the soul is a fearful thing; every sin, every sinful thought it can bring back, and we may well ask how we are to give account of “every idle word” that may have been whispered in the heart or uttered with the lips. The spirit of the watchman therefore understood very well the language of the inhabitants of the moon. They were disputing about our earth, and doubted whether it could be inhabited. The atmosphere, they asserted, must be too dense for any inhabitants of the moon to exist there. They maintained that the moon alone was inhabited, and was really the heavenly body in which the old world people lived. They likewise talked politics.

　　But now we will descend to East Street, and see what happened to the watchman’s body. He sat lifeless on the steps. His staff had fallen out of his hand, and his eyes stared at the moon, about which his honest soul was wandering.

　　“What is it o’clock, watchman?” inquired a passenger. But there was no answer from the watchman.

　　The man then pulled his nose gently, which caused him to lose his balance. The body fell forward, and lay at full length on the ground as one dead.

　　All his comrades were very much frightened, for he seemed quite dead; still they allowed him to remain after they had given notice of what had happened; and at dawn the body was carried to the hospital. We might imagine it to be no jesting matter if the soul of the man should chance to return to him, for most probably it would seek for the body in East Street without being able to find it. We might fancy the soul inquiring of the police, or at the address office, or among the missing parcels, and then at length finding it at the hospital. But we may comfort ourselves by the certainty that the soul, when acting upon its own impulses, is wiser than we are; it is the body that makes it stupid.

　　As we have said, the watchman’s body had been taken to the hospital, and here it was placed in a room to be washed. Naturally, the first thing done here was to take off the goloshes, upon which the soul was instantly obliged to return, and it took the direct road to the body at once, and in a few seconds the man’s life returned to him. He declared, when he quite recovered himself, that this had been the most dreadful night he had ever passed; not for a hundred pounds would he go through such feelings again. However, it was all over now.

　　The same day he was allowed to leave, but the goloshes remained at the hospital.

　　The Eventful Moment—a Most Unusual Journey

　　EVERY inhabitant of Copenhagen knows what the entrance to Frederick’s Hospital is like; but as most probably a few of those who read this little tale may not reside in Copenhagen, we will give a short description of it.

　　The hospital is separated from the street by an iron railing, in which the bars stand so wide apart that, it is said, some very slim patients have squeezed through, and gone to pay little visits in the town. The most difficult part of the body to get through was the head; and in this case, as it often happens in the world, the small heads were the most fortunate. This will serve as sufficient introduction to our tale. One of the young volunteers, of whom, physically speaking, it might be said that he had a great head, was on guard that evening at the hospital. The rain was pouring down, yet, in spite of these two obstacles, he wanted to go out just for a quarter of an hour; it was not worth while, he thought, to make a confidant of the porter, as he could easily slip through the iron railings. There lay the goloshes, which the watchman had forgotten. It never occurred to him that these could be goloshes of Fortune. They would be very serviceable to him in this rainy weather, so he drew them on. Now came the question whether he could squeeze through the palings; he certainly had never tried, so he stood looking at them. “I wish to goodness my head was through,” said he, and instantly, though it was so thick and large, it slipped through quite easily. The goloshes answered that purpose very well, but his body had to follow, and this was impossible. “I am too fat,” he said; “I thought my head would be the worst, but I cannot get my body through, that is certain.” Then he tried to pull his head back again, but without success; he could move his neck about easily enough, and that was all. His first feeling was one of anger, and then his spirits sank below zero. The goloshes of Fortune had placed him in this terrible position, and unfortunately it never occurred to him to wish himself free. No, instead of wishing he kept twisting about, yet did not stir from the spot. The rain poured, and not a creature could be seen in the street. The porter’s bell he was unable to reach, and however was he to get loose! He foresaw that he should have to stay there till morning, and then they must send for a smith to file away the iron bars, and that would be a work of time. All the charity children would just be going to school: and all the sailors who inhabited that quarter of the town would be there to see him standing in the pillory. What a crowd there would be. “Ha,” he cried, “the blood is rushing to my head, and I shall go mad. I believe I am crazy already; oh, I wish I were free, then all these sensations would pass off.” This is just what he ought to have said at first. The moment he had expressed the thought his head was free. He started back, quite bewildered with the fright which the goloshes of Fortune had caused him. But we must not suppose it was all over; no, indeed, there was worse to come yet. The night passed, and the whole of the following day; but no one sent for the goloshes. In the evening a declamatory performance was to take place at the amateur theatre in a distant street. The house was crowded; among the audience was the young volunteer from the hospital, who seemed to have quite forgotten his adventures of the previous evening. He had on the goloshes; they had not been sent for, and as the streets were still very dirty, they were of great service to him. A new poem, entitled “My Aunt’s Spectacles,” was being recited. It described these spectacles as possessing a wonderful power; if any one put them on in a large assembly the people appeared like cards, and the future events of ensuing years could be easily foretold by them. The idea struck him that he should very much like to have such a pair of spectacles; for, if used rightly, they would perhaps enable him to see into the hearts of people, which he thought would be more interesting than to know what was going to happen next year; for future events would be sure to show themselves, but the hearts of people never. “I can fancy what I should see in the whole row of ladies and gentlemen on the first seat, if I could only look into their hearts; that lady, I imagine, keeps a store for things of all descriptions; how my eyes would wander about in that collection; with many ladies I should no doubt find a large millinery establishment. There is another that is perhaps empty, and would be all the better for cleaning out. There may be some well stored with good articles. Ah, yes,” he sighed, “I know one, in which everything is solid, but a servant is there already, and that is the only thing against it. I dare say from many I should hear the words, ‘Please to walk in.’ I only wish I could slip into the hearts like a little tiny thought.” This was the word of command for the goloshes. The volunteer shrunk up together, and commenced a most unusual journey through the hearts of the spectators in the first row. The first heart he entered was that of a lady, but he thought he must have got into one of the rooms of an orthopedic institution where plaster casts of deformed limbs were hanging on the walls, with this difference, that the casts in the institution are formed when the patient enters, but here they were formed and preserved after the good people had left. These were casts of the bodily and mental deformities of the lady’s female friends carefully preserved. Quickly he passed into another heart, which had the appearance of a spacious, holy church, with the white dove of innocence fluttering over the altar. Gladly would he have fallen on his knees in such a sacred place; but he was carried on to another heart, still, however, listening to the tones of the organ, and feeling himself that he had become another and a better man. The next heart was also a sanctuary, which he felt almost unworthy to enter; it represented a mean garret, in which lay a sick mother; but the warm sunshine streamed through the window, lovely roses bloomed in a little flowerbox on the roof, two blue birds sang of childlike joys, and the sick mother prayed for a blessing on her daughter. Next he crept on his hands and knees through an overfilled butcher’s shop; there was meat, nothing but meat, wherever he stepped; this was the heart of a rich, respectable man, whose name is doubtless in the directory. Then he entered the heart of this man’s wife; it was an old, tumble-down pigeon-house; the husband’s portrait served as a weather-cock; it was connected with all the doors, which opened and shut just as the husband’s decision turned. The next heart was a complete cabinet of mirrors, such as can be seen in the Castle of Rosenberg. But these mirrors magnified in an astonishing degree; in the middle of the floor sat, like the Grand Lama, the insignificant I of the owner, astonished at the contemplation of his own features. At his next visit he fancied he must have got into a narrow needlecase, full of sharp needles: “Oh,” thought he, “this must be the heart of an old maid;” but such was not the fact; it belonged to a young officer, who wore several orders, and was said to be a man of intellect and heart.

　　The poor volunteer came out of the last heart in the row quite bewildered. He could not collect his thoughts, and imagined his foolish fancies had carried him away. “Good gracious!” he sighed, “I must have a tendency to softening of the brain, and here it is so exceedingly hot that the blood is rushing to my head.” And then suddenly recurred to him the strange event of the evening before, when his head had been fixed between the iron railings in front of the hospital. “That is the cause of it all!” he exclaimed, “I must do something in time. A Russian bath would be a very good thing to begin with. I wish I were lying on one of the highest shelves.” Sure enough, there he lay on an upper shelf of a vapor bath, still in his evening costume, with his boots and goloshes on, and the hot drops from the ceiling falling on his face. “Ho!” he cried, jumping down and rushing towards the plunging bath. The attendant stopped him with a loud cry, when he saw a man with all his clothes on. The volunteer had, however, presence of mind enough to whisper, “It is for a wager;” but the first thing he did, when he reached his own room, was to put a large blister on his neck, and another on his back, that his crazy fit might be cured. The next morning his back was very sore, which was all he gained by the goloshes of Fortune.

　　The Clerk’s Transformation

　　THE watchman, whom we of course have not forgotten, thought, after a while, of the goloshes which he had found and taken to the hospital; so he went and fetched them. But neither the lieutenant nor any one in the street could recognize them as their own, so he gave them up to the police. “They look exactly like my own goloshes,” said one of the clerks, examining the unknown articles, as they stood by the side of his own. “It would require even more than the eye of a shoemaker to know one pair from the other.”

　　“Master clerk,” said a servant who entered with some papers. The clerk turned and spoke to the man; but when he had done with him, he turned to look at the goloshes again, and now he was in greater doubt than ever as to whether the pair on the right or on the left belonged to him. “Those that are wet must be mine,” thought he; but he thought wrong, it was just the reverse. The goloshes of Fortune were the wet pair; and, besides, why should not a clerk in a police office be wrong sometimes? So he drew them on, thrust his papers into his pocket, placed a few manuscripts under his arm, which he had to take with him, and to make abstracts from at home. Then, as it was Sunday morning and the weather very fine, he said to himself, “A walk to Fredericksburg will do me good:” so away he went.

　　There could not be a quieter or more steady young man than this clerk. We will not grudge him this little walk, it was just the thing to do him good after sitting so much. He went on at first like a mere automaton, without thought or wish; therefore the goloshes had no opportunity to display their magic power. In the avenue he met with an acquaintance, one of our young poets, who told him that he intended to start on the following day on a summer excursion. “Are you really going away so soon?” asked the clerk. “What a free, happy man you are. You can roam about where you will, while such as we are tied by the foot.”

　　“But it is fastened to the bread-tree,” replied the poet. “You need have no anxiety for the morrow; and when you are old there is a pension for you.”

　　“Ah, yes; but you have the best of it,” said the clerk; “it must be so delightful to sit and write poetry. The whole world makes itself agreeable to you, and then you are your own master. You should try how you would like to listen to all the trivial things in a court of justice.” The poet shook his head, so also did the clerk; each retained his own opinion, and so they parted. “They are strange people, these poets,” thought the clerk. “I should like to try what it is to have a poetic taste, and to become a poet myself. I am sure I should not write such mournful verses as they do. This is a splendid spring day for a poet, the air is so remarkably clear, the clouds are so beautiful, and the green grass has such a sweet smell. For many years I have not felt as I do at this moment.”

　　We perceive, by these remarks, that he had already become a poet. By most poets what he had said would be considered common-place, or as the Germans call it, “insipid.” It is a foolish fancy to look upon poets as different to other men. There are many who are more the poets of nature than those who are professed poets. The difference is this, the poet’s intellectual memory is better; he seizes upon an idea or a sentiment, until he can embody it, clearly and plainly in words, which the others cannot do. But the transition from a character of every-day life to one of a more gifted nature is a great transition; and so the clerk became aware of the change after a time. “What a delightful perfume,” said he; “it reminds me of the violets at Aunt Lora’s. Ah, that was when I was a little boy. Dear me, how long it seems since I thought of those days! She was a good old maiden lady! she lived yonder, behind the Exchange. She always had a sprig or a few blossoms in water, let the winter be ever so severe. I could smell the violets, even while I was placing warm penny pieces against the frozen panes to make peep-holes, and a pretty view it was on which I peeped. Out in the river lay the ships, icebound, and forsaken by their crews; a screaming crow represented the only living creature on board. But when the breezes of spring came, everything started into life. Amidst shouting and cheers the ships were tarred and rigged, and then they sailed to foreign lands.”

　　“I remain here, and always shall remain, sitting at my post at the police office, and letting others take passports to distant lands. Yes, this is my fate,” and he sighed deeply. Suddenly he paused. “Good gracious, what has come over me? I never felt before as I do now; it must be the air of spring. It is overpowering, and yet it is delightful.”

　　He felt in his pockets for some of his papers. “These will give me something else to think of,” said he. Casting his eyes on the first page of one, he read, “‘Mistress Sigbirth; an original Tragedy, in Five Acts.’ What is this?—in my own handwriting, too! Have I written this tragedy?” He read again, “‘The Intrigue on the Promenade; or, the Fast-Day. A Vaudeville.’ However did I get all this? Some one must have put them into my pocket. And here is a letter!” It was from the manager of a theatre; the pieces were rejected, not at all in polite terms.

　　“Hem, hem!” said he, sitting down on a bench; his thoughts were very elastic, and his heart softened strangely. Involuntarily he seized one of the nearest flowers; it was a little, simple daisy. All that botanists can say in many lectures was explained in a moment by this little flower. It spoke of the glory of its birth; it told of the strength of the sunlight, which had caused its delicate leaves to expand, and given to it such sweet perfume. The struggles of life which arouse sensations in the bosom have their type in the tiny flowers. Air and light are the lovers of the flowers, but light is the favored one; towards light it turns, and only when light vanishes does it fold its leaves together, and sleep in the embraces of the air.”

　　“It is light that adorns me,” said the flower.

　　“But the air gives you the breath of life,” whispered the poet.

　　Just by him stood a boy, splashing with his stick in a marshy ditch. The water-drops spurted up among the green twigs, and the clerk thought of the millions of animalculae which were thrown into the air with every drop of water, at a height which must be the same to them as it would be to us if we were hurled beyond the clouds. As the clerk thought of all these things, and became conscious of the great change in his own feelings, he smiled, and said to himself, “I must be asleep and dreaming; and yet, if so, how wonderful for a dream to be so natural and real, and to know at the same time too that it is but a dream. I hope I shall be able to remember it all when I wake tomorrow. My sensations seem most unaccountable. I have a clear perception of everything as if I were wide awake. I am quite sure if I recollect all this tomorrow, it will appear utterly ridiculous and absurd. I have had this happen to me before. It is with the clever or wonderful things we say or hear in dreams, as with the gold which comes from under the earth, it is rich and beautiful when we possess it, but when seen in a true light it is but as stones and withered leaves.”

　　“Ah!” he sighed mournfully, as he gazed at the birds singing merrily, or hopping from branch to branch, “they are much better off than I. Flying is a glorious power. Happy is he who is born with wings. Yes, if I could change myself into anything I would be a little lark.” At the same moment his coat-tails and sleeves grew together and formed wings, his clothes changed to feathers, and his goloshes to claws. He felt what was taking place, and laughed to himself. “Well, now it is evident I must be dreaming; but I never had such a wild dream as this.” And then he flew up into the green boughs and sang, but there was no poetry in the song, for his poetic nature had left him. The goloshes, like all persons who wish to do a thing thoroughly, could only attend to one thing at a time. He wished to be a poet, and he became one. Then he wanted to be a little bird, and in this change he lost the characteristics of the former one. “Well,” thought he, “this is charming; by day I sit in a police-office, amongst the dryest law papers, and at night I can dream that I am a lark, flying about in the gardens of Fredericksburg. Really a complete comedy could be written about it.” Then he flew down into the grass, turned his head about in every direction, and tapped his beak on the bending blades of grass, which, in proportion to his size, seemed to him as long as the palm-leaves in northern Africa.

　　In another moment all was darkness around him. It seemed as if something immense had been thrown over him. A sailor boy had flung his large cap over the bird, and a hand came underneath and caught the clerk by the back and wings so roughly, that he squeaked, and then cried out in his alarm, “You impudent rascal, I am a clerk in the police-office!” but it only sounded to the boy like “tweet, tweet;” so he tapped the bird on the beak, and walked away with him. In the avenue he met two school-boys, who appeared to belong to a better class of society, but whose inferior abilities kept them in the lowest class at school. These boys bought the bird for eightpence, and so the clerk returned to Copenhagen. “It is well for me that I am dreaming,” he thought; “otherwise I should become really angry. First I was a poet, and now I am a lark. It must have been the poetic nature that changed me into this little creature. It is a miserable story indeed, especially now I have fallen into the hands of boys. I wonder what will be the end of it.” The boys carried him into a very elegant room, where a stout, pleasant-looking lady received them, but she was not at all gratified to find that they had brought a lark—a common field-bird as she called it. However, she allowed them for one day to place the bird in an empty cage that hung near the window. “It will please Polly perhaps,” she said, laughing at a large gray parrot, who was swinging himself proudly on a ring in a handsome brass cage. “It is Polly’s birthday,” she added in a simpering tone, “and the little field-bird has come to offer his congratulations.”

　　Polly did not answer a single word, he continued to swing proudly to and fro; but a beautiful canary, who had been brought from his own warm, fragrant fatherland, the summer previous, began to sing as loud as he could.

　　“You screamer!” said the lady, throwing a white handkerchief over the cage.

　　“Tweet, tweet,” sighed he, “what a dreadful snowstorm!” and then he became silent.

　　The clerk, or as the lady called him the field-bird, was placed in a little cage close to the canary, and not far from the parrot. The only human speech which Polly could utter, and which she sometimes chattered forth most comically, was “Now let us be men.” All besides was a scream, quite as unintelligible as the warbling of the canary-bird, excepting to the clerk, who being now a bird, could understand his comrades very well.

　　“I flew beneath green palm-trees, and amidst the blooming almond-trees,” sang the canary. “I flew with my brothers and sisters over beautiful flowers, and across the clear, bright sea, which reflected the waving foliage in its glittering depths; and I have seen many gay parrots, who could relate long and delightful stories.”

　　“They were wild birds,” answered the parrot, “and totally uneducated. Now let us be men. Why do you not laugh? If the lady and her visitors can laugh at this, surely you can. It is a great failing not to be able to appreciate what is amusing. Now let us be men.”

　　“Do you remember,” said the canary, “the pretty maidens who used to dance in the tents that were spread out beneath the sweet blossoms? Do you remember the delicious fruit and the cooling juice from the wild herbs?”

　　“Oh, yes,” said the parrot; “but here I am much better off. I am well fed, and treated politely. I know that I have a clever head; and what more do I want? Let us be men now. You have a soul for poetry. I have deep knowledge and wit. You have genius, but no discretion. You raise your naturally high notes so much, that you get covered over. They never serve me so. Oh, no; I cost them something more than you. I keep them in order with my beak, and fling my wit about me. Now let us be men.”

　　“O my warm, blooming fatherland,” sang the canary bird, “I will sing of thy dark-green trees and thy quiet streams, where the bending branches kiss the clear, smooth water. I will sing of the joy of my brothers and sisters, as their shining plumage flits among the dark leaves of the plants which grow wild by the springs.”

　　“Do leave off those dismal strains,” said the parrot; “sing something to make us laugh; laughter is the sign of the highest order of intellect. Can a dog or a horse laugh? No, they can cry; but to man alone is the power of laughter given. Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Polly, and repeated his witty saying, “Now let us be men.”

　　“You little gray Danish bird,” said the canary, “you also have become a prisoner. It is certainly cold in your forests, but still there is liberty there. Fly out! they have forgotten to close the cage, and the window is open at the top. Fly, fly!”

　　Instinctively, the clerk obeyed, and left the cage; at the same moment the half-opened door leading into the next room creaked on its hinges, and, stealthily, with green fiery eyes, the cat crept in and chased the lark round the room. The canary-bird fluttered in his cage, and the parrot flapped his wings and cried, “Let us be men;” the poor clerk, in the most deadly terror, flew through the window, over the houses, and through the streets, till at length he was obliged to seek a resting-place. A house opposite to him had a look of home. A window stood open; he flew in, and perched upon the table. It was his own room. “Let us be men now,” said he, involuntarily imitating the parrot; and at the same moment he became a clerk again, only that he was sitting on the table. “Heaven preserve us!” said he; “How did I get up here and fall asleep in this way? It was an uneasy dream too that I had. The whole affair appears most absurd.”

　　The Best Thing the Goloshes Did

　　EARLY on the following morning, while the clerk was still in bed, his neighbor, a young divinity student, who lodged on the same storey, knocked at his door, and then walked in. “Lend me your goloshes,” said he; “it is so wet in the garden, but the sun is shining brightly. I should like to go out there and smoke my pipe.” He put on the goloshes, and was soon in the garden, which contained only one plum-tree and one apple-tree; yet, in a town, even a small garden like this is a great advantage.

　　The student wandered up and down the path; it was just six o’clock, and he could hear the sound of the post-horn in the street. “Oh, to travel, to travel!” cried he; “there is no greater happiness in the world: it is the height of my ambition. This restless feeling would be stilled, if I could take a journey far away from this country. I should like to see beautiful Switzerland, to travel through Italy, and,”—It was well for him that the goloshes acted immediately, otherwise he might have been carried too far for himself as well as for us. In a moment he found himself in Switzerland, closely packed with eight others in the diligence. His head ached, his back was stiff, and the blood had ceased to circulate, so that his feet were swelled and pinched by his boots. He wavered in a condition between sleeping and waking. In his right-hand pocket he had a letter of credit; in his left-hand pocket was his passport; and a few louis d’ors were sewn into a little leather bag which he carried in his breast-pocket. Whenever he dozed, he dreamed that he had lost one or another of these possessions; then he would awake with a start, and the first movements of his hand formed a triangle from his right-hand pocket to his breast, and from his breast to his left-hand pocket, to feel whether they were all safe. Umbrellas, sticks, and hats swung in the net before him, and almost obstructed the prospect, which was really very imposing; and as he glanced at it, his memory recalled the words of one poet at least, who has sung of Switzerland, and whose poems have not yet been printed:—

　　“How lovely to my wondering eyes

　　Mont Blanc’s fair summits gently rise;

　　’Tis sweet to breathe the mountain air,—

　　If you have gold enough to spare.”

　　Grand, dark, and gloomy appeared the landscape around him. The pine-forests looked like little groups of moss on high rocks, whose summits were lost in clouds of mist. Presently it began to snow, and the wind blew keen and cold. “Ah,” he sighed, “if I were only on the other side of the Alps now, it would be summer, and I should be able to get money on my letter of credit. The anxiety I feel on this matter prevents me from enjoying myself in Switzerland. Oh, I wish I was on the other side of the Alps.”

　　And there, in a moment, he found himself, far away in the midst of Italy, between Florence and Rome, where the lake Thrasymene glittered in the evening sunlight like a sheet of molten gold between the dark blue mountains. There, where Hannibal defeated Flaminius, the grape vines clung to each other with the friendly grasp of their green tendril fingers; while, by the wayside, lovely half-naked children were watching a herd of coal-black swine under the blossoms of fragrant laurel. Could we rightly describe this picturesque scene, our readers would exclaim, “Delightful Italy!”

　　But neither the student nor either of his travelling companions felt the least inclination to think of it in this way. Poisonous flies and gnats flew into the coach by thousands. In vain they drove them away with a myrtle branch, the flies stung them notwithstanding. There was not a man in the coach whose face was not swollen and disfigured with the stings. The poor horses looked wretched; the flies settled on their backs in swarms, and they were only relieved when the coachmen got down and drove the creatures off.

　　As the sun set, an icy coldness filled all nature, not however of long duration. It produced the feeling which we experience when we enter a vault at a funeral, on a summer’s day; while the hills and the clouds put on that singular green hue which we often notice in old paintings, and look upon as unnatural until we have ourselves seen nature’s coloring in the south. It was a glorious spectacle; but the stomachs of the travellers were empty, their bodies exhausted with fatigue, and all the longings of their heart turned towards a resting-place for the night; but where to find one they knew not. All the eyes were too eagerly seeking for this resting-place, to notice the beauties of nature.

　　The road passed through a grove of olive-trees; it reminded the student of the willow-trees at home. Here stood a lonely inn, and close by it a number of crippled beggars had placed themselves; the brightest among them looked, to quote the words of Marryat, “like the eldest son of Famine who had just come of age.” The others were either blind, or had withered legs, which obliged them to creep about on their hands and knees, or they had shrivelled arms and hands without fingers. It was indeed poverty arrayed in rags. “Eccellenza, miserabili!” they exclaimed, stretching forth their diseased limbs. The hostess received the travellers with bare feet, untidy hair, and a dirty blouse. The doors were fastened together with string; the floors of the rooms were of brick, broken in many places; bats flew about under the roof; and as to the odor within—

　　“Let us have supper laid in the stable,” said one of the travellers; “then we shall know what we are breathing.”

　　The windows were opened to let in a little fresh air, but quicker than air came in the withered arms and the continual whining sounds, “Miserabili, eccellenza”. On the walls were inscriptions, half of them against “la bella Italia.”

　　The supper made its appearance at last. It consisted of watery soup, seasoned with pepper and rancid oil. This last delicacy played a principal part in the salad. Musty eggs and roasted cocks’-combs were the best dishes on the table; even the wine had a strange taste, it was certainly a mixture. At night, all the boxes were placed against the doors, and one of the travellers watched while the others slept. The student’s turn came to watch. How close the air felt in that room; the heat overpowered him. The gnats were buzzing about and stinging, while the miserabili, outside, moaned in their dreams.

　　“Travelling would be all very well,” said the student of divinity to himself, “if we had no bodies, or if the body could rest while the soul if flying. Wherever I go I feel a want which oppresses my heart, for something better presents itself at the moment; yes, something better, which shall be the best of all; but where is that to be found? In fact, I know in my heart very well what I want. I wish to attain the greatest of all happiness.”

　　No sooner were the words spoken than he was at home. Long white curtains shaded the windows of his room, and in the middle of the floor stood a black coffin, in which he now lay in the still sleep of death; his wish was fulfilled, his body was at rest, and his spirit travelling.

　　“Esteem no man happy until he is in his grave,” were the words of Solon. Here was a strong fresh proof of their truth. Every corpse is a sphinx of immortality. The sphinx in this sarcophagus might unveil its own mystery in the words which the living had himself written two days before—

　　“Stern death, thy chilling silence waketh dread;

　　Yet in thy darkest hour there may be light.

　　Earth’s garden reaper! from the grave’s cold bed

　　The soul on Jacob’s ladder takes her flight.

　　Man’s greatest sorrows often are a part

　　Of hidden griefs, concealed from human eyes,

　　Which press far heavier on the lonely heart

　　Than now the earth that on his coffin lies.”

　　Two figures were moving about the room; we know them both. One was the fairy named Care, the other the messenger of Fortune. They bent over the dead.

　　“Look!” said Care; “what happiness have your goloshes brought to mankind?”

　　“They have at least brought lasting happiness to him who slumbers here,” she said.

　　“Not so,” said Care, “he went away of himself, he was not summoned. His mental powers were not strong enough to discern the treasures which he had been destined to discover. I will do him a favor now.” And she drew the goloshes from his feet.

　　The sleep of death was ended, and the recovered man raised himself. Care vanished, and with her the goloshes; doubtless she looked upon them as her own property.

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