'Beware, my daughter! Remember the fate of your aunt!'
'And this happened in the nineteenth century, and here in our father-land? 'Such an inquiry will assuredly be made by one or other of our readers. But we will not answer it ourselves; we shall only advise the inquirer to address himself to the descendants of _one of the most ancient families in Scania_, and ask _them_ whether it be true or not.
FROM THE DANISH OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN.
There was a widow, once upon a time-- Yet stop--with _truth_ we must commence our rhyme-- She _had_ been such, but now another spouse Had sought her love, and won the widow's vows.
One evening she was quite alone at home (For the best husbands sometimes like to roam); She sat, her cheek reposing on her hand, The tea-things spread upon the table, and The kettle singing by, or on the fire-- A sort of a monotonous steam lyre: Her thoughts from this low world of fogs had flown Up to the husband she first called her own; She could not _quite_ the dear, kind soul forget-- And ah! the other one was absent yet. 'But thou art happy now,' she cried--'in case In Abraham's bosom thou hast found a place: Thou pitiest us, in these rooms close and old, Where one so often gets a cough or cold.'
Then into a brown study she did fall, When suddenly some sounds her thoughts recall; She hears a gentle knocking at the door; She starts--looks at the roof, then at the floor-- Then peers into each corner, as she cries, 'Well--who is there?' To be right brave she tries, But truth to tell, she almost shook with fear To see some ghost, or corpse-like form appear. Another knock--then in the doorway stood No spectre, but a youth of flesh and blood 'Twas an apprentice who had run away From work, and chose from town to town to stray: The rogue lived by his wits as best he might, For nought he scrupled at--except to fight.
The quondam widow very soon perceived The intruder was not what she had believed-- That he was mortal, not a form of air. She questioned whence he came, and also where He might be bound. 'I'm on my way,' said he, 'To Paris, madam, _viâ_ Germany.' With joyous heart she listened to his tale, And then she placed before him meat and ale, Kindly inviting him to eat and drink; While she exclaimed, 'How very strange to think That you to Paradise are journeying on!-- Why, that's the land where my first husband's gone! Please give my love to him, our daughter's, too, And--_his successor's compliments_, will you?'