ANDERSEN'S TALES. 
« Why do you ery?” asked he. “You look gg 
uely! Nothing ails me. Fie! cried he, suddenly, 
«there ’s a worm-hole in that rose! And look, that 
one is quite crooked! Altogether, they are nasty 
roses,—as bad as the boxes in which they are set, 
And then he kicked the boxes, and tore off the twg 
A Q 
i Kay, what are you doing ?” cried the little girl, 
and when he saw how frightened she was, he tore off 
another rose, and then leaped in at his window, away 
from sweet little Gerda. 
The next time she brought out the picture-book, he 
said it was only fit for children in swaddling-clothes; 
and when his grandmother related a story, he was sure 
to interrupt her with some “ifs” and “buts”; and 
whenever he could manage it, he would place himself 
behind her, put on a pair of spectacles, and speak just 
like her; and he mimicked her so well, that everybody 
laughed. He could soon mimic both the voice and 
the gait of every soul in the street. Kay was sure to 
imitate to the life the disagreeable attributes of each 
person; and people said: “That boy will surely be a 
genius.” But it was only the bit of glass that had 
stuck in his eye and in his heart, and which made him 
-eaze even little Gerda, who loved him so dearly. 
His amusements were now quite different to what 
they were formerly : they savoured more of g QTOWn 
person. One winter's day, when it had snowed, he 
came with a burning-glass, and held out the skirt of 
his blue coat to catch some flakes of snow. 
Now look in the lass, Gerda,” said he. And 
every flake was magnified, and looked like a beautiful 
dower or a decagonal star ; and very pretty it was to 
see.  “ Now 18 not this scientific 7?” "said Kay; ““ and 
how far more interesting than real flowers! There is 
they ont my E03 are quite correct, provided 
ang" fer, Kay appeared with thick gloves on his 
Has, and his sledge at his back, and called out to 
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