n
written upon. The children in the house stood round the stove; for
they wanted to see the paper burn, because it flamed up so prettily,
and afterwards, among the ashes, so many red sparks could be seen
running one after the other, here and there, as quick as the wind.
They called it seeing the children come out of school, and the last
spark was the schoolmaster. They often thought the last spark had
come; and one would cry, "There goes the schoolmaster;" but the next
moment another spark would appear, shining so beautifully. How they
would like to know where the sparks all went to! Perhaps we shall find
out some day, but we don't know now.

The whole bundle of paper had been placed on the fire, and was
soon alight. "Ugh," cried the paper, as it burst into a bright
flame; "ugh." It was certainly not very pleasant to be burning; but
when the whole was wrapped in flames, the flames mounted up into the
air, higher than the flax had ever been able to raise its little
blue flower, and they glistened as the white linen never could have
glistened. All the written letters became quite red in a moment, and
all the words and thoughts turned to fire.

"Now I am mounting straight up to the sun," said a voice in the
flames; and it was as if a thousand voices echoed the words; and the
flames darted up through the chimney, and went out at the top. Then
a number of tiny beings, as many in number as the flowers on the
flax had been, and invisible to mortal eyes, floated above them.
They were even lighter and more delicate than the flowers from which
they were born; and as the flames were extinguished, and nothing
remained of the paper but black ashes, these little beings danced upon
it; and whenever they touched it, bright red sparks appeared.

"The children are all out of school, and the schoolmaster was
the last of all," said the children. It was good fun, and they sang
over the dead ashes,--

"Snip, snap, snurre,
Basse lure:
The song is ended."

But the little invisible beings said, "The song is never ended;
the most beautiful is yet to come."

But the children could neither hear nor understand this, nor
should they; for children must not know everything.

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