The Neighbouring Families Page #3

The Neighbouring Families is a delightful collection of fairy tales by Hans Christian Andersen. The book explores themes of friendship, love, and the significant impact of societal and familiar relations on individual lives, presented through enchanting narratives starring both humans and fantastical creatures living in harmony. The stories in this book are tinged with humor, wit, and classic Andersonian wisdom that amuse as well as provoke deeper reflection.

• Children

								

stood in the ranks with the others, but it did not suit them at all.
They were full, and so they left the pigeons, exchanging opinions
about them, slipped in under the garden palings, and when they found
the door leading into the house open, one of them, who was more than
full, and therefore felt brave, hopped on to the threshold. "Peep!"
said he; "I may venture that."

"Peep!" said the other; "so may I, and something more too!" and he
hopped into the room. No one was there; the third sparrow, seeing
this, flew still farther into the room, exclaiming, "All or nothing!
It is a curious man's nest all the same; and what have they put up
here? What is it?"

Close to the sparrows the roses were blooming; they were reflected
in the water, and the charred beams leaned against the overhanging
chimney. "Do tell me what this is. How comes this in a room at the
Hall?" And all three sparrows wanted to fly over the roses and the
chimney, but flew against a flat wall. It was all a picture, a great
splendid picture, which the artist had painted from a sketch.

"Peep!" said the sparrows, "it's nothing. It only looks like
something. Peep! that is 'the beautiful.' Do you understand it? I
don't."

And they flew away, for some people came into the room.

Days and years went by. The pigeons had often cooed, not to say
growled--the spiteful creatures; the sparrows had been frozen in
winter and had lived merrily in summer: they were all betrothed, or
married, or whatever you like to call it. They had little ones, and of
course each one thought his own the handsomest and cleverest; one flew
this way, another that, and when they met they recognised each other
by their "Peep!" and the three scrapes with the left foot. The
eldest had remained an old maid and had no nest nor young ones. It was
her pet idea to see a great city, so she flew to Copenhagen.

There was a large house painted in many gay colours standing close
to the castle and the canal, upon which latter were to be seen many
ships laden with apples and pottery. The windows of the house were
broader at the bottom than at the top, and when the sparrows looked
through them, every room appeared to them like a tulip with the
brightest colours and shades. But in the middle of the tulip stood
white men, made of marble; a few were of plaster; still, looked at
with sparrows' eyes, that comes to the same thing. Up on the roof
stood a metal chariot drawn by metal horses, and the goddess of
Victory, also of metal, was driving. It was Thorwaldsen's Museum.

"How it shines! how it shines!" said the maiden sparrow. "I
suppose that is 'the beautiful.' Peep! But here it is larger than a
peacock." She still remembered what in her childhood's days her mother
had looked upon as the greatest among the beautiful. She flew down
into the courtyard: there everything was extremely fine. Palms and
branches were painted on the walls, and in the middle of the court
stood a great blooming rose-tree spreading out its fresh boughs,
covered with roses, over a grave. Thither flew the maiden sparrow, for
she saw several of her own kind there. A "peep" and three
foot-scrapings--in this way she had often greeted throughout the year,
and no one here had responded, for those who are once parted do not
meet every day; and so this greeting had become a habit with her.
But to-day two old sparrows and a young one answered with a "peep" and
the thrice-repeated scrape with the left foot.

"Ah! Good-day! good-day!" They were two old ones from the nest and
a little one of the family. "Do we meet here? It's a grand place,
but there's not much to eat. This is 'the beautiful.' Peep!"

Many people came out of the side rooms where the beautiful
marble statues stood and approached the grave where lay the great
master who had created these works of art. All stood with enraptured
faces round Thorwaldsen's grave, and a few picked up the fallen
rose-leaves and preserved them. They had come from afar: one from
mighty England, others from Germany and France. The fairest of the
ladies plucked one of the roses and hid it in her bosom. Then the
sparrows thought that the roses reigned here, and that the house had
been built for their sake. That appeared to them to be really too
much, but since all the people showed their love for the roses, they
did not wish to be behindhand. "Peep!" they said sweeping the ground
with their tails, and blinking with one eye at the roses, they had not
looked at them long before they were convinced that they were their
old neighbours. And so they really were. The painter who had drawn the
rose-bush near the ruined house, had afterwards obtained permission to
dig it up, and had given it to the architect, for finer roses had
never been seen. The architect had planted it upon Thorwaldsen's
grave, where it bloomed as an emblem of 'the beautiful' and yielded
fragrant red rose-leaves to be carried as mementoes to distant lands.

"Have you obtained an appointment here in the city?" asked the
sparrows. The roses nodded; they recognized their grey neighbours
and were pleased to see them again. "How glorious it is to live and to
bloom, to see old friends again, and happy faces every day. It is as
if every day were a festival." "Peep!" said the sparrows. "Yes, they
are really our old neighbours; we remember their origin near the pond.
Peep! how they have got on. Yes, some succeed while they are asleep.
Ah! there's a faded leaf; I can see that quite plainly." And they
pecked at it till it fell off. But the tree stood there fresher and
greener than ever; the roses bloomed in the sunshine on
Thorwaldsen's grave and became associated with his immortal name.
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes