Then the third son said, ‘Father, let me also show you something;’ and,
as it was beginning to rain, he drew his sword and swung it in cross
cuts above his head, so that not a drop fell on him, and the rain fell
heavier and heavier, till at last it was coming down like a waterspout,
but he swung his sword faster and faster, and kept as dry as if he were
under cover.
When the father saw this he was astonished, and said, ‘You have produced
the greatest masterpiece: the house is yours.’
Both the other brothers were quite satisfied, and praised him too, and
as they were so fond of each other they all three remained at home and
plied their trades: and as they were so experienced and skilful they
earned a great deal of money. So they lived happily together till they
were quite old, and when one was taken ill and died the two others were
so deeply grieved that they were also taken ill and died too. And so,
because they had all been so clever, and so fond of each other, they
were all laid in one grave.
The Snow-queen
Translated from the German of Hans Andersen by Miss Alma Alleyne.
There was once a dreadfully wicked hobgoblin. One day he was in capital
spirits because he had made a looking-glass which reflected everything
that was good and beautiful in such a way that it dwindled almost to
nothing, but anything that was bad and ugly stood out very clearly and
looked much worse. The most beautiful landscapes looked like boiled
spinach, and the best people looked repulsive or seemed to stand on
their heads with no bodies; their faces were so changed that they could
not be recognised, and if anyone had a freckle you might be sure it
would be spread over the nose and mouth.
That was the best part of it, said the hobgoblin.
But one day the looking-glass was dropped, and it broke into a
million-billion and more pieces.
And now came the greatest misfortune of all, for each of the pieces
was hardly as large as a grain of sand and they flew about all over the
world, and if anyone had a bit in his eye there it stayed, and then he
would see everything awry, or else could only see the bad sides of a
case. For every tiny splinter of the glass possessed the same power that
the whole glass had.
Some people got a splinter in their hearts, and that was dreadful, for
then it began to turn into a lump of ice.
The hobgoblin laughed till his sides ached, but still the tiny bits of
glass flew about.
And now we will hear all about it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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