inthefaceofannelisbeth,lightedupbytheeveningsun,couldbeseenpeaceandrest.shesaidshewashappynow,forshehadconquered.thespectreoftheshore,herownchild,hadcometoherthenightbefore,andhadsaidtoher,"thouhastdugmeonlyhalfagrave:butthouhastnow,forayearandaday,buriedmealtogetherinthyheart,anditisthereamothercanbesthideherchild!"andthenhegaveherbackherlostsoul,andbroughtherintothechurch."nowiaminthehouseofgod,"shesaid,"andinthathousewearehappy."

whenthesunset,annelisbeth'ssoulhadrisentothatregionwherethereisnomorepain;andannelisbeth'stroubleswereatanend.

theend.

1872

fairytalesofhanschristianandersen

beautyofformandbeautyofmind

byhanschristianandersen

therewasonceasculptor,namedalfred,whohavingwonthelargegoldmedalandobtainedatravellingscholarship,wenttoitaly,andthencamebacktohisnativeland.hewasyoungatthattime-indeed,heisyoungstill,althoughheistenyearsolderthanhewasthen.onhisreturn,hewenttovisitoneofthelittletownsintheislandofzealand.thewholetownknewwhothestrangerwas;andoneoftherichestmenintheplacegaveapartyinhishonor,andallwhowereofanyconsequence,orwhopossessedsomeproperty,wereinvited.itwasquiteanevent,andallthetownknewofit,sothatitwasnotnecessarytoannounceitbybeatofpprentice-boys,childrenofthepoor,andeventhepoorpeoplethemselves,stoodbeforethehouse,watchingthelightedwindows;andthewatchmanmighteasilyfancyhewasgivingapartyalso,thereweresomanypeopleinthestreets.therewasquiteanairoffestivityaboutit,andthehousewasfullofit;formr.alfred,thesculptor,wasthere.hetalkedandtoldanecdotes,andeveryonelistenedtohimwithpleasure,notunmingledwithawe;butnonefeltsomuchrespectforhimasdidtheelderlywidowofanavalofficer.sheseemed,sofarasmr.alfredwasconcerned,tobelikeapieceoffreshblotting-paperthatabsorbedallhesaidandaskedformore.shewasveryappreciative,andincrediblyignorant-akindoffemalegasparhauser.

"ishouldliketoseerome,"shesaid;"itmustbealovelycity,orsomanyforeignerswouldnotbeconstantlyarriving,dogivemeadescriptionofrome.howdoesthecitylookwhenyouenterinatthegate?"

"icannotverywelldescribeit,"saidthesculptor;"butyouenteronalargeopenspace,inthecentreofwhichstandsanobelisk,whichisathousandyearsold."

"anorganist!"exclaimedthelady,whohadneverheardtheword'obelisk.'severaloftheguestscouldscarcelyforbearlaughing,andthesculptorwouldhavehadsomedifficultyinkeepinghiscountenance,butthesmileonhislipsfadedaway;forhecaughtsightofapairofdark-blueeyesclosebythesideoftheinquisitiveybelongedtoherdaughter;andsurelynoonewhohadsuchadaughtercouldbesilly.themotherwaslikeafountainofquestions;andthedaughter,wholistenedbutneverspoke,mighthavepassedforthebeautifulmaidofthefountain.howcharmingshewas!shewasastudyforthesculptortocontemplate,butnottoconversewith;forshedidnotspeak,or,atleast,veryseldom.

"hasthepopeagreatfamily?"inquiredthelady.

theyoungmanansweredconsiderately,asifthequestionhadbeenadifferentone,"no;hedoesnotcomefromagreatfamily."

"thatisnotwhatiasked,"persistedthewidow;"imean,hasheawifeandchildren?"