and at last alighted on the leaf. Tiny pleased him, and she was glad
of it, for now the toad could not possibly reach her, and the
country through which she sailed was beautiful, and the sun shone upon
the water, till it glittered like liquid gold. She took off her girdle
and tied one end of it round the butterfly, and the other end of the
ribbon she fastened to the leaf, which now glided on much faster
than ever, taking little Tiny with it as she stood. Presently a
large cockchafer flew by; the moment he caught sight of her, he seized
her round her delicate waist with his claws, and flew with her into
a tree. The green leaf floated away on the brook, and the butterfly
flew with it, for he was fastened to it, and could not get away.
Oh, how frightened little Tiny felt when the cockchafer flew
with her to the tree! But especially was she sorry for the beautiful
white butterfly which she had fastened to the leaf, for if he could
not free himself he would die of hunger. But the cockchafer did not
trouble himself at all about the matter. He seated himself by her side
on a large green leaf, gave her some honey from the flowers to eat,
and told her she was very pretty, though not in the least like a
cockchafer. After a time, all the cockchafers turned up their feelers,
and said, "She has only two legs! how ugly that looks." "She has no
feelers," said another. "Her waist is quite slim. Pooh! she is like
a human being."
"Oh! she is ugly," said all the lady cockchafers, although Tiny
was very pretty. Then the cockchafer who had run away with her,
believed all the others when they said she was ugly, and would have
nothing more to say to her, and told her she might go where she liked.
Then he flew down with her from the tree, and placed her on a daisy,
and she wept at the thought that she was so ugly that even the
cockchafers would have nothing to say to her. And all the while she
was really the loveliest creature that one could imagine, and as
tender and delicate as a beautiful rose-leaf. During the whole
summer poor little Tiny lived quite alone in the wide forest. She wove
herself a bed with blades of grass, and hung it up under a broad leaf,
to protect herself from the rain. She sucked the honey from the
flowers for food, and drank the dew from their leaves every morning.
So passed away the summer and the autumn, and then came the winter,-
the long, cold winter. All the birds who had sung to her so sweetly
were flown away, and the trees and the flowers had withered. The large
clover leaf under the shelter of which she had lived, was now rolled
together and shrivelled up, nothing remained but a yellow withered
stalk. She felt dreadfully cold, for her clothes were torn, and she
was herself so frail and delicate, that poor little Tiny was nearly
frozen to death. It began to snow too; and the snow-flakes, as they
fell upon her, were like a whole shovelful falling upon one of us, for
we are tall, but she was only an inch high. Then she wrapped herself
up in a dry leaf, but it cracked in the middle and could not keep
her warm, and she shivered with cold. Near the wood in which she had
been living lay a corn-field, but the corn had been cut a long time;
nothing remained but the bare dry stubble standing up out of the
frozen ground. It was to her like struggling through a large wood. Oh!
how she shivered with the cold. She came at last to the door of a
field-mouse, who had a little den under the corn-stubble. There
dwelt the field-mouse in warmth and comfort, with a whole roomful of
corn, a kitchen, and a beautiful dining room. Poor little Tiny stood
before the door just like a little beggar-girl, and begged for a small
piece of barley-corn, for she had been without a morsel to eat for two
days.
"You poor little creature," said the field-mouse, who was really a
good old field-mouse, "come into my warm room and dine with me." She
was very pleased with Tiny, so she said, "You are quite welcome to
stay with me all the winter, if you like; but you must keep my rooms
clean and neat, and tell me stories, for I shall like to hear them
very much." And Tiny did all the field-mouse asked her, and found
herself very comfortable.
"We shall have a visitor soon," said the field-mouse one day;
"my neighbor pays me a visit once a week. He is better off than I
am; he has large rooms, and wears a beautiful black velvet coat. If
you could only have him for a husband, you would be well provided
for indeed. But he is blind, so you must tell him some of your
prettiest stories.
But Tiny did not feel at all interested about this neighbor, for
he was a mole. However, he came and paid his visit dressed in his
black velvet coat.
"He is very rich and learned, and his house is twenty times larger
than mine," said the field-mouse.
He was rich and learned, no doubt, but he always spoke slightingly
of the sun and the pretty flowers, because he had never seen them.
Tiny was obliged to sing to him, "Lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away
home," and many other pretty songs. And the mole fell in love with her
because she had such a sweet voice; but he said nothing yet, for he
was very cautious. A short time before, the mole had dug a long
passage under the earth, which led from the dwelling of the
field-mouse to his own, and here she had permission to walk with
Tiny whenever she liked. But he warned them not to be alarmed at the
sight of a dead bird which lay in the passage. It was a perfect
bird, with a beak and feathers, and could not have been dead long, and
was lying just where the mole had made his passage. The mole took a
piece of phosphorescent wood in his mouth, and it glittered like
fire in the dark; then he went before them to light them through the
long, dark passage. When they came to the spot where lay the dead
bird, the mole pushed his broad nose through the ceiling, the earth
gave way, so that there was a large hole, and the daylight shone
into the passage. In the middle of the floor lay a dead swallow, his
beautiful wings pulled close to his sides, his feet and his head drawn
up under his feathers; the poor bird had evidently died of the cold.
It made little Tiny very sad to see it, she did so love the little
birds; all the summer they had sung and twittered for her so
beautifully. But the mole pushed it aside with his crooked legs, and
said, "He will sing no more now. How miserable it must be to be born a
little bird! I am thankful that none of my children will ever be
birds, for they can do nothing but cry, 'Tweet, tweet,' and always die
of hunger in the winter."
"Yes, you may well say that, as a clever man!" exclaimed the
field-mouse, "What is the use of his twittering, for when winter comes
he must either starve or be frozen to death. Still birds are very high
bred."
Tiny said nothing; but when the two others had turned their
backs on the bird, she stooped down and stroked aside the soft
feathers which covered the head, and kissed the closed eyelids.
"Perhaps this was the one who sang to me so sweetly in the summer,"
she said; "and how much pleasure it gave me, you dear, pretty bird."
The mole now stopped up the hole through which the daylight shone,
and then accompanied the lady home. But during the night Tiny could
not sleep; so she got out of bed and wove a large, beautiful carpet of
hay; then she carried it to the dead bird, and spread it over him;
with some down from the flowers which she had found in the
field-mouse's room. It was as soft as wool, and she spread some of
it on each side of the bird, so that he might lie warmly in the cold
earth. "Farewell, you pretty little bird," said she, "farewell;
thank you for your delightful singing during the summer, when all
the trees were green, and the warm sun shone upon us. Then she laid
her head on the bird's breast, but she was alarmed immediately, for it
seemed as if something inside the bird went "thump, thump." It was the
bird's heart; he was not really dead, only benumbed with the cold, and
the warmth had restored him to life. In autumn, all the swallows fly
away into warm countries, but if one happens to linger, the cold
seizes it, it becomes frozen, and falls down as if dead; it remains
where it fell, and the cold snow covers it. Tiny trembled very much;
she was quite frightened, for the bird was large, a great deal
larger than herself,- she was only an inch high. But she took courage,
laid the wool more thickly over the poor swallow, and then took a leaf
which she had used for her own counterpane, and laid it over the
head of the poor bird. The next morning she again stole out to see
him. He was alive but very weak; he could only open his eyes for a
moment to look at Tiny, who stood by holding a piece of decayed wood
in her hand, for she had no other lantern. "Thank you, pretty little
maiden," said the sick swallow; "I have been so nicely warmed, that
I shall soon regain my strength, and be able to fly about again in the
warm sunshine."
"Oh," said she, "it is cold out of doors now; it snows and
freezes. Stay in your warm bed; I will take care of you."
Then she brought the swallow some water in a flower-leaf, and
after he had drank, he told her that he had wounded one of his wings
in a thorn-bush, and could not fly as fast as the others, who were
soon far away on their journey to warm countries. Then at last he
had fallen to the earth, and could remember no more, nor how he came
to be where she had found him. The whole winter the swallow remained
underground, and Tiny nursed him with care and love. Neither the
mole nor the field-mouse knew anything about it, for they did not like
swallows. Very soon the spring time came, and the sun warmed the
earth. Then the swallow bade farewell to Tiny, and she opened the hole
in the ceiling which the mole had made. The sun shone in upon them
so beautifully, that the swallow asked her if she would go with him;
she could sit on his back, he said, and he would fly away with her
into the green woods. But Tiny knew it would make the field-mouse very
grieved if she left her in that manner, so she said, "No, I cannot."
"Farewell, then, farewell, you good, pretty little maiden," said
the swallow; and he flew out into the sunshine.
Tiny looked after him, and the tears rose in her eyes. She was
very fond of the poor swallow.
"Tweet, tweet," sang the bird, as he flew out into the green
woods, and Tiny felt very sad. She was not allowed to go out into
the warm sunshine. The corn which had been sown in the field over
the house of the field-mouse had grown up high into the air, and
formed a thick wood to Tiny, who was only an inch in height.
"You are going to be married, Tiny," said the field-mouse. "My
neighbor has asked for you. What good fortune for a poor child like
you. Now we will prepare your wedding clothes. They must be both
woollen and linen. Nothing must be wanting when you are the mole's
wife."
Tiny had to turn the spindle, and the field-mouse hired four
spiders, who were to weave day and night. Every evening the mole
visited her, and was continually speaking of the time when the
summer would be over. Then he would keep his wedding-day with Tiny;
but now the heat of the sun was so great that it burned the earth, and
made it quite hard, like a stone. As soon, as the summer was over, the
wedding should take place. But Tiny was not at all pleased; for she
did not like the tiresome mole. Every morning when the sun rose, and
every evening when it went down, she would creep out at the door,
and as the wind blew aside the ears of corn, so that she could see the
blue sky, she thought how beautiful and bright it seemed out there,
and wished so much to see her dear swallow again. But he never
returned; for by this time he had flown far away into the lovely green
forest.
When autumn arrived, Tiny had her outfit quite ready; and the
field-mouse said to her, "In four weeks the wedding must take place."
Then Tiny wept, and said she would not marry the disagreeable
mole.
"Nonsense," replied the field-mouse. "Now don't be obstinate, or I
shall bite you with my white teeth. He is a very handsome mole; the
queen herself does not wear more beautiful velvets and furs. His
kitchen and cellars are quite full. You ought to be very thankful
for such good fortune."
So the wedding-day was fixed, on which the mole was to fetch
Tiny away to live with him, deep under the earth, and never again to
see the warm sun, because he did not like it. The poor child was
very unhappy at the thought of saying farewell to the beautiful sun,
and as the field-mouse had given her permission to stand at the
door, she went to look at it once more.
"Farewell bright sun," she cried, stretching out her arm towards
it; and then she walked a short distance from the house; for the
corn had been cut, and only the dry stubble remained in the fields.
"Farewell, farewell," she repeated, twining her arm round a little red
flower that grew just by her side. "Greet the little swallow from
me, if you should see him again."
"Tweet, tweet," sounded over her head suddenly. She looked up, and
there was the swallow himself flying close by. As soon as he spied
Tiny, he was delighted; and then she told him how unwilling she felt
to marry the ugly mole, and to live always beneath the earth, and
never to see the bright sun any more. And as she told him she wept.
"Cold winter is coming," said the swallow, "and I am going to
fly away into warmer countries. Will you go with me? You can sit on my
back, and fasten yourself on with your sash. Then we can fly away from
the ugly mole and his gloomy rooms,- far away, over the mountains,
into warmer countries, where the sun shines more brightly- than
