w rosier, and they
laughed and played games in the street. "We have bread now!" they cried.

Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets
looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and
glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves
of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore
scarlet caps and skated on the ice.

The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave
the Prince; he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the
baker's door when the baker was not looking, and tried to keep himself
warm by flapping his wings.

But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to
fly up to the Prince's shoulder once more. "Good-bye, dear Prince!" he
murmured, "will you let me kiss your hand?"

"I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow," said
the Prince. "You have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the
lips, for I love you."

"It is not to Egypt that I am going," said the Swallow. "I am going to
the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?"

And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his
feet.

At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if
something had suddenly broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had
snapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.

Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in
company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he looked
up at the statue: "Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!" he said.

"How shabby indeed!" cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed with
the Mayor; and they went up to look at it.

"The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is
golden no longer," said the Mayor; "in fact, he is little better than a
beggar!"

"Little better than a beggar," said the Town Councillors.

"And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!" continued the Mayor.
"We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed
to die here." And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.

So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. "As he is no longer
beautiful he is no longer useful," said the Art Professor at the
University.

Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting
of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. "We
must have an