of twittering birds. Then out
of the hole in the wall streamed forth the voice of another bird, and
the bird soared forth from its hiding-place; and in heaven it was well
known what bird this was.

It was a hard winter. The ponds were covered with ice, and the beasts
of the field and the birds of the air were stinted for food. Our
little bird soared away over the high road, and in the ruts of the
sledges he found here and there a grain of corn, and at the
halting-places some crumbs. Of these he ate only a few, but he called
all the other hungry sparrows around him, that they, too, might have
some food. He flew into the towns, and looked round about; and
wherever a kind hand had strewn bread on the window-sill for the
birds, he only ate a single crumb himself, and gave all the rest to
the other birds.

In the course of the winter, the bird had collected so many bread
crumbs, and given them to the other birds, that they equalled the
weight of the loaf on which Inge had trod to keep her shoes clean; and
when the last bread crumb had been found and given, the grey wings of
the bird became white, and spread far out.

"Yonder is a sea-swallow, flying away across the water," said the
children when they saw the white bird. Now it dived into the sea, and
now it rose again into the clear sunlight. It gleamed white; but no
one could tell whither it went, though some asserted that it flew
straight into the sun.

A STORY FROM THE SAND-DUNES.

This is a story from the sand-dunes or sand-hills of Jutland; though
it does not begin in Jutland, the northern peninsula, but far away in
the south, in Spain. The ocean is the high road between the
nations--transport thyself thither in thought to sunny Spain. There it
is warm and beautiful, there the fiery pomegranate blossoms flourish
among the dark laurels; from the mountains a cool refreshing wind
blows down, upon, and over the orange gardens, over the gorgeous
Moorish halls with their golden cupolas and coloured walls: through
the streets go children in procession, with candles and with waving
flags, and over them, lofty and clear, rises the sky with its gleaming
stars. There is a sound of song and of castagnettes, and youths and
maidens join in the dance under the blooming acacias, while the
mendicant sits upon the hewn marble stone, refreshing himself with the
juicy melon, and dreamily enjoying life. The whole is like a glorious
dream. And there was a newly married couple