ve been laid better; but it was at least a shelter and a
cover for her. There was a fine view from it of the sea, which broke
in its might against the embankment. The salt spray often dashed over
the whole tiny house, which still stood there when he was dead and
gone who had given the bricks:--

The second brother could build in another way. He was also clever in
his business. When his apprenticeship was over he strapped on his
knapsack, and sang the mechanic's song:--

"While young, far-distant lands I'll tread.
Away from home to build,
My handiwork shall win my bread,
My heart with hope be filled.
And when my fatherland I see,
And meet my bride--hurra!
An active workman I shall be:
Then who so happy and gay?"

And he _was_ that. When he returned to his native town, and became a
master, he built house after house--a whole street. It was a very
handsome one, and a great ornament to the town. These houses built for
him a small house, which was to be his own. But how could the houses
build? Ay, ask them that, and they will not answer you; but people
will answer for them, and tell you, "It certainly was that street
which built him a house." It was only a small one, to be sure, and
with a clay floor; but when he and his bride danced on it the floor
became polished and bright, and from every stone in the wall sprang a
flower which was quite as good as any costly tapestry. It was a
pleasant house, and they were a happy couple. The colours of the
masons' company floated outside, and the journeymen and apprentices
shouted "Hurra!" Yes, that was something; and so he died--and that was
also something.

Then came the architect, the third brother, who had been first a
carpenter's apprentice, wearing a cap and going on errands; but, on
leaving the academy, rose to be an architect, and he became a man of
consequence. Yes, if the houses in the street built by his brother,
the master mason, had provided him with a house, a street was called
after the architect, and the handsomest house in it was his own. That
was something; and he was somebody, with a long, high-sounding title
besides. His children were called people of quality, and when he died
his widow was a widow of rank--that was something. And his name stood
as a fixture at the corner of the street, and was often in folks'
mouths, being the name of a street--and that was certainly something.

Next came the genius--the fourth brothe