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The Shepherd's Story Of The Bond Of Friendship The Shepherd's Story Of The Bond Of Friendship

The Shepherd's Story Of The Bond Of Friendship
The little dwelling in which we lived was of clay, but the door-posts were columns of fluted marble, found near the spot on which it stood. The roof sloped nearly to the ground. It was at this time dark, brown, and ugly, but had originally been formed of blooming olive and laurel branches, brought from beyond the mountains. The house was situated in a narrow gorge, whose rocky walls rose to a perpendicular height, naked and black, while round their summits clouds often hung, looking like white living figures. Not a singing bird was ever heard there, neither did men dance... Short Stories - Post by : davdlwh - Date : August 2011 - Author : Hans Christian Andersen - Read : 2244

The Flax The Flax

The Flax
The flax was in full bloom; it had pretty little blue flowers as delicate as the wings of a moth, or even more so. The sun shone, and the showers watered it; and this was just as good for the flax as it is for little children to be washed and then kissed by their mother. They look much prettier for it, and so did the flax. "People say that I look exceedingly well," said the flax, "and that I am so fine and long that I shall make a beautiful piece of linen. How fortunate I am; it makes me... Short Stories - Post by : Lance_Williams - Date : August 2011 - Author : Hans Christian Andersen - Read : 3893

A Rose From Homer's Grave A Rose From Homer's Grave

A Rose From Homer's Grave
Al the songs of the east speak of the love of the nightingale for the rose in the silent starlight night. The winged songster serenades the fragrant flowers. Not far from Smyrna the merchant drives his loaded camels, proudly arching their long necks as they journey beneath the lofty pines over holy ground, I saw a hedge of roses. The turtle-dove flew among the branches of the tall trees, and as the sunbeams fell upon her wings, they glistened as if they were mother-of-pearl. On the rose-bush grew a flower, more beautiful than them all, and to her the nightingale... Short Stories - Post by : squiffy - Date : August 2011 - Author : Hans Christian Andersen - Read : 2310

The Races The Races

The Races
A prize, or rather two prizes, a great one and a small one, had been awarded for the greatest swiftness in running,--not in a single race, but for the whole year. "I obtained the first prize," said the hare. "Justice must still be carried out, even when one has relations and good friends among the prize committee; but that the snail should have received the second prize, I consider almost an insult to myself." "No," said the fence-rail, who had been a witness at the distribution of prizes; "there should be some consideration for industry and perseverance. I have heard many... Short Stories - Post by : hotspot - Date : August 2011 - Author : Hans Christian Andersen - Read : 3161

The Princess And The Pea The Princess And The Pea

The Princess And The Pea
Once upon a time there was a prince who wanted to marry a princess; but she would have to be a real princess. He travelled all over the world to find one, but nowhere could he get what he wanted. There were princesses enough, but it was difficult to find out whether they were real ones. There was always something about them that was not as it should be. So he came home again and was sad, for he would have liked very much to have a real princess. One evening a terrible storm came on; there was thunder and lightning,... Short Stories - Post by : veyor3 - Date : August 2011 - Author : Hans Christian Andersen - Read : 1820

Poultry Meg's Family Poultry Meg's Family

Poultry Meg's Family
Poultry Meg was the only person who lived in the new stately dwelling that had been built for the fowls and ducks belonging to the manor house. It stood there where once the old knightly building had stood with its tower, its pointed gables, its moat, and its drawbridge. Close by it was a wilderness of trees and thicket; here the garden had been, and had stretched out to a great lake, which was now moorland. Crows and choughs flew screaming over the old trees, and there were crowds of birds; they did not seem to get fewer when any one... Short Stories - Post by : techcrafters - Date : August 2011 - Author : Hans Christian Andersen - Read : 3014

The Portuguese Duck The Portuguese Duck

The Portuguese Duck
A duck once arrived from Portugal, but there were some who said she came from Spain, which is almost the same thing. At all events, she was called the "Portuguese," and she laid eggs, was killed, and cooked, and there was an end of her. But the ducklings which crept forth from the eggs were also called "Portuguese," and about that there may be some question. But of all the family one only remained in the duckyard, which may be called a farmyard, as the chickens were admitted, and the cock strutted about in a very hostile manner. "He annoys me... Short Stories - Post by : Harold_Fultz - Date : August 2011 - Author : Hans Christian Andersen - Read : 2814

The Philosopher's Stone The Philosopher's Stone

The Philosopher's Stone
Far away towards the east, in India, which seemed in those days the world's end, stood the Tree of the Sun; a noble tree, such as we have never seen, and perhaps never may see. The summit of this tree spread itself for miles like an entire forest, each of its smaller branches forming a complete tree. Palms, beech-trees, pines, plane-trees, and various other kinds, which are found in all parts of the world, were here like small branches, shooting forth from the great tree; while the larger boughs, with their knots and curves, formed valleys and hills, clothed with velvety... Short Stories - Post by : richman - Date : August 2011 - Author : Hans Christian Andersen - Read : 2147

The Pea Blossom The Pea Blossom

The Pea Blossom
There were once five peas in one shell, they were green, the shell was green, and so they believed that the whole world must be green also, which was a very natural conclusion. The shell grew, and the peas grew, they accommodated themselves to their position, and sat all in a row. The sun shone without and warmed the shell, and the rain made it clear and transparent; it was mild and agreeable in broad daylight, and dark at night, as it generally is; and the peas as they sat there grew bigger and bigger, and more thoughtful as they mused,... Short Stories - Post by : thicks - Date : August 2011 - Author : Hans Christian Andersen - Read : 3927

The Garden Of Paradise The Garden Of Paradise

The Garden Of Paradise
There was once a king's son who had a larger and more beautiful collection of books than any one else in the world, and full of splendid copper-plate engravings. He could read and obtain information respecting every people of every land; but not a word could he find to explain the situation of the garden of paradise, and this was just what he most wished to know. His grandmother had told him when he was quite a little boy, just old enough to go to school, that each flower in the garden of paradise was a sweet cake, that the pistils... Short Stories - Post by : unnameable - Date : August 2011 - Author : Hans Christian Andersen - Read : 1935

Our Aunt Our Aunt

Our Aunt
You ought to have known our aunt; she was charming! That is to say, she was not charming at all as the word is usually understood; but she was good and kind, amusing in her way, and was just as any one ought to be whom people are to talk about and to laugh at. She might have been put into a play, and wholly and solely on account of the fact that she only lived for the theatre and for what was done there. She was an honorable matron; but Agent Fabs, whom she used to call "Flabs," declared that... Short Stories - Post by : Richaz - Date : August 2011 - Author : Hans Christian Andersen - Read : 3467

Ole-luk-oie, The Dream-god Ole-luk-oie, The Dream-god

Ole-luk-oie, The Dream-god
There is nobody in the world who knows so many stories as Ole-Luk-Oie, or who can relate them so nicely. In the evening, while the children are seated at the table or in their little chairs, he comes up the stairs very softly, for he walks in his socks, then he opens the doors without the slightest noise, and throws a small quantity of very fine dust in their eyes, just enough to prevent them from keeping them open, and so they do not see him. Then he creeps behind them, and blows softly upon their necks, till their heads begin... Short Stories - Post by : 2racer - Date : August 2011 - Author : Hans Christian Andersen - Read : 3628

The Old Street Lamp The Old Street Lamp

The Old Street Lamp
Did you ever hear the story of the old street lamp? It is not remarkably interesting, but for once in a way you may as well listen to it. It was a most respectable old lamp, which had seen many, many years of service, and now was to retire with a pension. It was this evening at its post for the last time, giving light to the street. His feelings were something like those of an old dancer at the theatre, who is dancing for the last time, and knows that on the morrow she will be in her garret, alone... Short Stories - Post by : wsmann - Date : August 2011 - Author : Hans Christian Andersen - Read : 2084

The Old Church Bell The Old Church Bell

The Old Church Bell
(WRITTEN FOR THE SCHILLER ALBUM) In the country of Wurtemburg, in Germany the acacias grow by the public road the apple-trees and the pear-trees in autumn bend to the earth with the weight of the precious fruit, lies the little town of Marbach. As is often the case with many of these towns, it is charmingly situated on the banks of the river Neckar, which rushes rapidly by, passing villages, old knights' castles, and green vineyards, till its waters mingle with those of the stately Rhine. It was late in the autumn; the vine-leaves still hung upon the branches... Short Stories - Post by : Money - Date : August 2011 - Author : Hans Christian Andersen - Read : 1419

There Is No Doubt About It There Is No Doubt About It

There Is No Doubt About It
"That was a terrible affair!" said a hen, and in a quarter of the town, too it had not taken place. "That was a terrible affair in a hen-roost. I cannot sleep alone to-night. It is a good thing that many of us sit on the roost together." And then she told a story that made the feathers on the other hens bristle up, and the cock's comb fall. There was no doubt about it. But we will begin at the beginning, and that is to be found in a hen-roost in another part of the town. The sun was... Short Stories - Post by : barrys - Date : August 2011 - Author : Hans Christian Andersen - Read : 2131

The Neighbouring Families The Neighbouring Families

The Neighbouring Families
One would have thought that something important was going on in the duck-pond, but it was nothing after all. All the ducks lying quietly on the water or standing on their heads in it--for they could do that--at once swarm to the sides; the traces of their feet were seen in the wet earth, and their cackling was heard far and wide. The water, which a few moments before had been as clear and smooth as a mirror, became very troubled. Before, every tree, every neighbouring bush, the old farmhouse with the holes in the roof and the swallows' nest, and... Short Stories - Post by : thedealmaker - Date : August 2011 - Author : Hans Christian Andersen - Read : 1942

The Thistle's Experiences The Thistle's Experiences

The Thistle's Experiences
Belonging to the lordly manor-house was beautiful, well-kept garden, with rare trees and flowers; the guests of the proprietor declared their admiration of it; the people of the neighborhood, from town and country, came on Sundays and holidays, and asked permission to see the garden; indeed, whole schools used to pay visits to it. Outside the garden, by the palings at the road-side, stood a great mighty Thistle, which spread out in many directions from the root, so that it might have been called a thistle bush. Nobody looked at it, except the old Ass which drew the milk-maid's cart. This... Short Stories - Post by : Tennyson - Date : August 2011 - Author : Hans Christian Andersen - Read : 1223

The Swan's Nest The Swan's Nest

The Swan's Nest
Between the Baltic and the North Sea there lies an old swan's nest in swans are born and have been born that shall never die. In olden times a flock of swans flew over the Alps to the green plains around Milan it was delightful to dwell. This flight of swans men called the Lombards. Another flock, with shining plumage and honest eyes, soared southward to Byzantium; the swans established themselves there close by the Emperor's throne, and spread their wings over him as shields to protect him. They received the name of Varangians. On the coast of France there... Short Stories - Post by : topearners - Date : August 2011 - Author : Hans Christian Andersen - Read : 3317

The Sunbeam And The Captive The Sunbeam And The Captive

The Sunbeam And The Captive
It is autumn. We stand on the ramparts, and look out over the sea. We look at the numerous ships, and at the Swedish coast on the opposite side of the sound, rising far above the surface of the waters which mirror the glow of the evening sky. Behind us the wood is sharply defined; mighty trees surround us, and the yellow leaves flutter down from the branches. Below, at the foot of the wall, stands a gloomy looking building enclosed in palisades. The space between is dark and narrow, but still more dismal must it be behind the iron gratings... Short Stories - Post by : tonywarrior - Date : August 2011 - Author : Hans Christian Andersen - Read : 3299

The Storm Shakes The Shield The Storm Shakes The Shield

The Storm Shakes The Shield
In the old days, when grandpapa was quite a little boy, and ran about in little red breeches and a red coat, and a feather in his cap--for that's the costume the little boys wore in his time when they were dressed in their best--many things were very different from what they are now. There was often a good deal of show in the streets--show that we don't see nowadays, because it has been abolished as too old-fashioned. Still, it is very interesting to hear grandfather tell about it. It must really have been a gorgeous sight to behold, in those... Short Stories - Post by : restlesswind - Date : August 2011 - Author : Hans Christian Andersen - Read : 2623