Full text: Hans Andersen's fairy tales

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Mother Elder 
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Jbout, and scraping up the ground for the hens; see how proudly 
he strides! And now we are close to the church ; it stands high 
on the hill, among the great oak-trees. Now we are at the 
smithy ; the fire is blazing, and the half-naked men are banging 
away with their hammers, and the sparks are flying about all 
ound. Away, away, to the old manor house!” And all that 
‘the little maid described flew past them ; the boy saw it all, and 
still they only rode round and round the grass plot. ‘Then the 
-hildren played in one of the walks, and marked out a tiny garden 
for themselves in the mould, and the girl took one of the elder- 
Jlossoms out of her hair, and planted it, and it grew up, just as 
the elder-sprig grew which was planted by the old sailor and his 
vife when they were little ones. Then the little girl threw her 
arms round the little boy’s waist, and away they flew over all 
Denmark. Spring deepened into summer, and summer mellowed 
into autumn, and autumn faded into pale, cold winter, and a 
thousand pictures were mirrored in the boy’s eyes and heart. 
And wheresoever they flew, the sweet strong perfume of the elder- 
ree floated round them ; the little boy could distinguish the 
delicious fragrance of the roses, blooming in the gardens he flew 
past, and the wind wafted to him the fresh odour of the beech- 
trees ; but the elder-perfume far excelled these, he thought. 
“ How beautiful is spring!” exclaimed the young girl, as they 
stood together in the beech-wood, where the trees had newly burst 
into fresh loveliness, where the sweet-scented woodroof grew at 
their feet, the pale-tinted anemones looking so pretty amid its 
green. “ Oh, would it were always spring!” 
“ How beautiful is summer!” said she again, as they passed 
an ancient baronial castle; its red, stained walls and battlements 
mirrored in the moat encircling them. A sea of green corn waved 
to and fro in the fields; tiny red and golden blossoms peeped 
out of the ditches, and the hedges were enwreathed with wild, 
wantoning hops, and the bell-flowered white bindweed. It was 
evening ; the moon rose large and round; the meadows were 
odorous with the scent of haystacks. 
“ How beautiful is autumn !” exclaimed the little maiden; and 
the vault of heaven seemed to rise higher and to grow more in- 
tensely blue, and the woods became flushed with the richest and
	        
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