The Goloshes of Fortune Page #2

"The Goloshes of Fortune" is a magical and whimsical tale by Hans Christian Andersen. It tells the story of a pair of magical boots that grant the wearer's deepest desires, taking them on unpredictable adventures. The book explores themes of desire, contentment, and the notion that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side. It's a delightful story reminding us to appreciate what we have, as our hasty wishes may lead to unexpected consequences.

• Children

								

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?" 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 my judicium."

"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. 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
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