Author: H. C. Andersen

In a village there once lived two men who had the same name. They were both called Claus. One of them had four horses, but the other had only one; so to distinguish them, people called the owner of the four horses, “Great Claus,” and he who had only one, “Little Claus.” Now we shall hear what happened to them, for this is a true story.

“Yes, this is a song for very small children!” declared Aunt Malle. “As much as I should like to, I cannot follow this ‘Dance, Dance, Doll of Mine!'”

There was a little sea fish of good family, the name of which I don’t remember; that the more learned will have to tell you. This little fish had eighteen hundred brothers and sisters, all the same age; they didn’t know their father or mother, so they had to care for themselves and swim about on their own, but that was a lot of fun. They had plenty of water to drink – the entire ocean. They didn’t think about their food; that was sure to come their way. Each did as he pleased; each would have his own story, but then none of them thought about that.

About four miles from the city stood an old manor house with thick walls, towers, and pointed gables. Here lived, but only in the summer season, a rich and noble family. Of all the different estates they owned, this was the best and the most beautiful; on the outside it looked as if it had just been cast in a foundry, and the inside was made for comfort and ease. The family coat of arms was carved in stone over the gate; beautiful roses climbed about the arms and the balconies; the courtyard was covered with grass; there were red thorn and white thorn, and many rare flowers even outside the greenhouse.

The wind whistles in the old willow tree. It is as if one were hearing a song; the wind sings it; the tree tells it. If you do not understand it, then ask old Johanne in the poor house; she knows about it; she was born here in the parish.

Every key has a history, and there are many kinds of keys – a chamberlain’s key, a watch key, Saint Peter’s key. We could tell you about all the keys; but now we will only tell about the councilor’s gate key.

There was an old manor house where a young, splendid family lived. They had riches and many blessings; they liked to enjoy themselves, and yet they did a lot of good. They wanted to make everybody happy, as happy as they themselves were.

Where did we get this story? would you like to know?

There was an aëronaut, and things went badly with him. His balloon burst, hurled him out, and went all to pieces. Just two minutes before, the aëronaut had sent his boy down by parachute – wasn’t the boy lucky! He wasn’t hurt, and he knew enough to be an aëronaut himself, but he had no balloon and no means of getting one.

It sizzled and fizzled as the flames fired the cauldron.. it was the Tallow Candle’s cradle – and out of the warm cradle came a flawless candle; solid, shining white and slim it was formed in a way that made everyone who saw it believe that it was a promise of a bright and radiant future – promises that everyone who looked on believed it would really want to keep and fulfil.