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 clever was he, that every shilling he
put out brought him a crown; and so he continued till he died. His son
inherited his wealth, and he lived a merry life with it; he went to
a masquerade every night, made kites out of five pound notes, and
threw pieces of gold into the sea instead of stones, making ducks
and drakes of them. In this manner he soon lost all his money. At last
he had nothing left but a pair of slippers, an old dressing-gown,
and four shillings. And now all his friends deserted him, they could
not walk with him in the streets; but one of them, who was very
good-natured, sent him an old trunk with this message, "Pack up!"
"Yes," he said, "it is all very well to say 'pack up,'" but he had
nothing left to pack up, therefore he seated himself in the trunk.
It was a very wonderful trunk; no sooner did any one press on the lock
than the trunk could fly. He shut the lid and pressed the lock, when
away flew the trunk up the chimney with the merchant's son in it,
right up into the clouds. Whenever the bottom of the trunk cracked, he
was in a great fright, for if the trunk fell to pieces he would have
made a tremendous somerset over the trees. However, he got safely in
his trunk to the land of Turkey. He hid the trunk in the wood under
some dry leaves, and then went into the town: he could so this very
well, for the Turks always go about dressed in dressing-gowns and
slippers, as he was himself. He happened to meet a nurse with a little
child. "I say, you Turkish nurse," cried he, "what castle is that near
the town, with the windows placed so high?"

"The king's daughter lives there," she replied; "it has been
prophesied that she will be very unhappy about a lover, and
therefore no one is allowed to visit her, unless the king and queen
are present."

"Thank you," said the merchant's son. So he went back to the wood,
seated himself in his trunk, flew up to the roof of the castle, and
crept through the window into the princess's room. She lay on the sofa
asleep, and she was so beautiful that the merchant's son could not
help kissing her. Then she awoke, and was very much frightened; but he
told her he was a Turkish angel, who had come down through the air
to see her, which pleased her very much. He sat down by her side and
talked to her: he said her eyes were like beautiful dark lakes, in
which the thoughts swam about like little mermaids, and he told her
that her forehead was a snowy mountain, which contained splendid halls
full of pictures. And then he related to her about the stork who
brings the beautiful children from the rivers. These were delightful
stories; and when he asked the princess if she would marry him, she
consented immediately.

"But you must come on Saturday," she said; "for then the king
and queen will take tea with me. They will be very proud when they
find that I am going to marry a Turkish angel; but you must think of
some very pretty stories to tell them, for my parents like to hear
stories better than anything. My mother prefers one that is deep and
moral; but my father likes something funny, to make him laugh."

"Very well," he replied; "I shall bring you no other marriage
portion than a story," and so they parted. But the princess gave him a
sword which was studded with gold coins, and these he could use.

Then he flew away to the town and bought a new dressing-gown,
and afterwards returned to the wood, where he composed a story, so
as to be ready for Saturday, which was no easy matter. It was ready
however by Saturday, when he went to see the princess. The king, and
queen, and the whole court, were at tea with the princess; and he
was received with great politeness.

"Will you tell us a story?" said the queen,--"one that is
instructive and full of deep learning."

"Yes, but with something in it to laugh at," said the king.

"Certainly," he replied, and commenced at once, asking them to
listen attentively. "There was once a bundle of matches that were
exceedingly proud of their high descent. Their genealogical tree, that
is, a large pine-tree from which they had been cut, was at one time
a large, old tree in the wood. The matches now lay between a
tinder-box and an old iron saucepan, and were talking about their
youthful days. 'Ah! then we grew on the green boughs, and were as
green as they; every morning and evening we were fed with diamond
drops of dew. Whenever the sun shone, we felt his warm rays, and the
little birds would relate stories to us as they sung. We knew that
we were rich, for the other trees only wore their green dress in
summer, but our family were able to array themselves in green,
summer and winter. But the wood-cutter came, like a great
revolution, and our family fell under the axe. The head of the house
obtained a situation as mainmast in a very fine ship, and can sail
round the world when he will. The other branches of the family were
taken to different places, and our office now is to kindle a light for
common people. This is how such high-born people as we came to be in a
kitchen.'

"'Mine has been a very different fate,' said the iron pot, which
stood by the matches; 'from my first entrance into the world I have
been used to cooking and scouring. I am the first in this house,
when anything solid or useful is required. My only pleasure is to be
made clean and shining after dinner, and to sit in my place and have a
little sensible conversation with my neighbors. All of us, excepting
the water-bucket, which is sometimes taken into the courtyard, live
here together within these four walls. We get our news from the
market-basket, but he sometimes tells us very unpleasant things
about the people and the government. Yes, and one day an old pot was
so alarmed, that he fell down and was broken to pieces. He was a

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