THE FLYING TRUNK
There was once a merchant who was so
rich that he could have paved the whole street with gold, and would
even then have had enough for a small alley. But he did not do so; he
knew the value of money better than to use it in this way. So clever
was he, that every shilling he put out brought him a crown; and so he
continued till he died. His son inherited his wealth, and he lived a
merry life with it; he went to a masquerade every night, made kites out
of five pound notes, and threw pieces of gold into the sea instead of
stones, making ducks and drakes of them.
In
this manner he soon lost all his money. At last he had nothing left but
a pair of slippers, an old dressing-gown, and four shillings. And now
all his friends deserted him, they could not walk with him in the
streets; but one of them, who was very good-natured, sent him an old
trunk with this message, “Pack up!” “Yes,” he said, “it is all very
well to say ‘pack up,’” but he had nothing left to pack up, therefore
he seated himself in the trunk. It was a very wonderful trunk; no
sooner did any one press on the lock than the trunk could fly. He shut
the lid and pressed the lock, when away flew the trunk up the chimney
with the merchant’s son in it, right up into the clouds.
Whenever the bottom of the
trunk cracked, he was in a great fright, for if the trunk fell to
pieces he would have made a tremendous somerset over the trees.
However, he got safely in his trunk to the land of Turkey. He hid the
trunk in the wood under some dry leaves, and then went into the town:
he could so this very well, for the Turks always go about dressed in
dressing-gowns and slippers, as he was himself. He happened to meet a
nurse with a little child. “I say, you Turkish nurse,” cried he,
“what castle is that near the town, with the windows placed so high?”
“The king’s daughter lives
there,” she replied; “it has been prophesied that she will be very
unhappy about a lover, and therefore no one is allowed to visit her,
unless the king and queen are present.”
“Thank you,” said the
merchant’s son. So he went back to the wood, seated himself in his
trunk, flew up to the roof of the castle, and crept through the window
into the princess’s room. She lay on the sofa asleep, and she was so
beautiful that the merchant’s son could not help kissing her. Then she
awoke, and was very much frightened; but he told her he was a Turkish
angel, who had come down through the air to see her, which pleased her
very much. He sat down by her side and talked to her: he said her eyes
were like beautiful dark lakes, in which the thoughts swam about like
little mermaids, and he told her that her forehead was a snowy
mountain, which contained splendid halls full of pictures. And then he
related to her about the stork who brings the beautiful children from
the rivers. These were delightful stories; and when he asked the
princess if she would marry him, she consented immediately.
“But you must come on
Saturday,” she said; “for then the king and queen will take tea with
me. They will be very proud when they find that I am going to marry a
Turkish angel; but you must think of some very pretty stories to tell
them, for my parents like to hear stories better than anything. My
mother prefers one that is deep and moral; but my father likes
something funny, to make him laugh.”
“Very well,” he replied; “I
shall bring you no other marriage portion than a story,” and so they
parted. But the princess gave him a sword which was studded with gold
coins, and these he could use.
Then he flew away to the town
and bought a new dressing-gown, and afterwards returned to the wood,
where he composed a story, so as to be ready for Saturday, which was no
easy matter. It was ready however by Saturday, when he went to see the
princess. The king, and queen, and the whole court, were at tea with
the princess; and he was received with great politeness.
“Will you tell us a story?” said the queen,—“one that is instructive and full of deep learning.”
“Yes, but with something in it to laugh at,” said the king.
“Certainly,” he replied, and
commenced at once, asking them to listen attentively. “There was once a
bundle of matches that were exceedingly proud of their high descent.
Their genealogical tree, that is, a large pine-tree from which they had
been cut, was at one time a large, old tree in the wood. The matches
now lay between a tinder-box and an old iron saucepan, and were talking
about their youthful days. ‘Ah! then we grew on the green boughs, and
were as green as they; every morning and evening we were fed with
diamond drops of dew.
Whenever the sun shone, we felt
his warm rays, and the little birds would relate stories to us as they
sung. We knew that we were rich, for the other trees only wore their
green dress in summer, but our family were able to array themselves in
green, summer and winter. But the wood-cutter came, like a great
revolution, and our family fell under the axe. The head of the house
obtained a situation as mainmast in a very fine ship, and can sail
round the world when he will. The other branches of the family were
taken to different places, and our office now is to kindle a light for
common people. This
is how such high-born people as we came to be in a kitchen.’
“‘Mine has been a very
different fate,’ said the iron pot, which stood by the matches; ‘from
my first entrance into the world I have been used to cooking and
scouring. I am the first in this house, when anything solid or useful
is required. My only pleasure is to be made clean and shining after
dinner, and to sit in my place and have a little sensible conversation
with my neighbors. All of us, excepting the water-bucket, which is
sometimes taken into the courtyard, live here together within these
four walls. We get our news from the market-basket, but he sometimes
tells us very unpleasant things about the people and the government.
Yes, and one day an old pot was so alarmed,
that he fell down and was broken to pieces. He was a liberal, I can tell you.’
“‘You are talking too much,’ said the tinder-box, and the steel struck against the flint till some sparks flew out, crying,
‘We want a merry evening, don’t we?’
“‘Yes, of course,’ said the matches, ‘let us talk about those who are the highest born.’
“‘No, I don’t like to be always
talking of what we are,’ remarked the saucepan; ‘let us think of some
other amusement; I will begin. We will tell something that has happened
to ourselves; that will be very easy, and interesting as well. On the
Baltic Sea, near the Danish shore’—
“‘What a pretty commencement!’ said the plates; ‘we shall all like that story, I am sure.’
“‘Yes; well in my youth, I
lived in a quiet family, where the furniture was polished, the floors
scoured, and clean curtains put up every fortnight,’
“‘What an interesting way you
have of relating a story,’ said the carpet-broom; ‘it is easy to
perceive that you have been a great deal in women’s society, there is
something so pure runs through what you say.’
“‘That is quite true,’ said the water-bucket; and he made a spring with joy, and splashed some water on the floor.
“Then the saucepan went on with his story, and the end was as good as the beginning.
“The plates rattled with
pleasure, and the carpet-broom brought some green parsley out of the
dust-hole and crowned the saucepan, for he knew it would vex the
others; and he thought, ‘If I crown him to-day he will crown me
to-morrow.’
“‘Now, let us have a dance,’
said the fire-tongs; and then how they danced and stuck up one leg in
the air. The chair-cushion in the corner burst with laughter when she
saw it.
“‘Shall I be crowned now?’ asked the fire-tongs; so the broom found another wreath for the tongs.
“‘They were only common people
after all,’ thought the matches. The tea-urn was now asked to sing, but
she said she had a cold, and could not sing without boiling heat. They
all thought this was affectation, and because she did not wish to sing
excepting in the parlor, when on the table with the grand people.
“In the window sat an old
quill-pen, with which the maid generally wrote. There was nothing
remarkable about the pen, excepting that it had been dipped too deeply
in the ink, but it was proud of that.
“‘If the tea-urn won’t sing,’
said the pen, ‘she can leave it alone; there is a nightingale in a cage
who can sing; she has not been taught much, certainly, but we need not
say anything this evening about that.’
“‘I think it highly improper,’
said the tea-kettle, who was kitchen singer, and half-brother to the
tea-urn, ‘that a rich foreign bird should be listened to here. Is it
patriotic? Let the market-basket decide what is right.’
“‘I certainly am vexed,’ said
the basket; ‘inwardly vexed, more than any one can imagine. Are we
spending the evening properly? Would it not be more sensible to put the
house in order? If each were in his own place I would lead a game; this
would be quite another thing.’
“‘Let us act a play,’ said they
all. At the same moment the door opened, and the maid came in. Then not
one stirred; they all remained quite still; yet, at the same time,
there was not a single pot amongst them who had not a high opinion of
himself, and of what he could do if he chose.
“‘Yes, if we had chosen,’ they each thought, ‘we might have spent a very pleasant evening.’
“The maid took the matches and lighted them; dear me, how they sputtered and blazed up!
“‘Now then,’ they thought,
‘every one will see that we are the first. How we shine; what a light
we give!’ Even while they spoke their light went out.
“What a capital story,” said
the queen, “I feel as if I were really in the kitchen, and could see
the matches; yes, you shall marry our daughter.”
“Certainly,” said the king,
“thou shalt have our daughter.” The king said thou to him because he
was going to be one of the family. The wedding-day was fixed, and, on
the evening before, the whole city was illuminated. Cakes and
sweetmeats were thrown among
the people. The street boys stood on tiptoe and shouted “hurrah,” and
whistledbetween their fingers; altogether it was a very splendid affair.
“I will give them another
treat,” said the merchant’s son. So he went and bought rockets and
crackers, and all sorts of fire-works that could be thought of, packed
them in his trunk, and flew up with it into the air. What a whizzing
and popping they made as they went off! The Turks, when they saw such a
sight in the air, jumped so high that their slippers flew about their
ears. It was easy to believe after this that the princess was really
going to marry a Turkish angel.
As soon as the merchant’s son
had come down in his flying trunk to the wood after the fireworks, he
thought, “I will go back into the town now, and hear what they think of
the entertainment.” It was very natural that he should wish to know.
And what strange things people did say, to be sure! every one whom he
questioned had a different tale to tell, though they all thought it
very beautiful.
“ I saw the Turkish angel
myself,” said one; “he had eyes like glittering stars, and a head like
foaming water.” “He flew in a mantle of fire,” cried another, “and
lovely little cherubs peeped out from the folds.”
He heard many more fine things
about himself, and that the next day he was to be married. After this
he went back to the forest to rest himself in his trunk. It had
disappeared! A spark from the fireworks which remained had set it on
fire; it was burnt to ashes! So the merchant’s son could not fly any
more, nor go to meet his bride. She stood all day on the roof waiting
for him, and most likely she is waiting there still; while he wanders
through the world telling fairy tales, but none of them so amusing as
the one he related about the matches.
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