Speaker 1: Hello, and welcome back to Sleepy Stories. I'm your host, Lucy,
and my friends and I will be reading you a
sleepy bedtime story every week to relax you and to
help you to drift off into a RESTful sleep. From
time to time, we will also read you a relaxing,
peaceful meditation that will take you somewhere beautiful and calming.
Once we have read the stories, we will then read
them a second time, but this time they will be
ready even slower. This will help you to relax even more.
Before we begin, I would like you to close your
eyes and breathe in and out nice and deeply. Take
a few seconds to inhale, and then hold your breath
for a few seconds more and then release and breathe out.
Do this a few times if you need to. While
you listen to the music and you listen to my voice,
give yourself time to let your body relax and your
mind settle. It's important that we allow time for us
to feel safe, cozy, and completely at ease. And now
it's time for this week's story.
Speaker 2: The Elderbush. Once upon a time, there was a little
boy who had taken cold. He had gone out and
got his feet wet, though nobody could imagine how it happened,
for it was quite dry weather. So his mother undressed him,
put him to bed, and had the teapot brought in
to make him a good cup of elderflower tea. Just
at that moment, the merry old man came in, who
lived up atop the house all alone, for he had
neither wife nor children, but he liked children very much
and knew so many fairy tales that it was quite delightful.
Now drink your tea, said the boy's mother. Then perhaps
you may hear a fairy tale if I had but
something new to tell, said the old man. But how
did the child get his feet wet? That is the
very thing that nobody can make out, said his mother.
Am I to hear a fairy tale? Asked the little boy. Yes,
if you can tell me exactly, for I must know
that first how deep the gutter is in the little
street opposite that you pass through in going to school.
Just up to the middle of my boot, said the child.
But then I must go into the deep hole. Ah ah,
that is where the wet feet came from, said the
old man. I ought now to tell you a story,
but I don't know any more. You can make one
in a moment, said the little boy. My mother says
that all you look at can be turned into a
fairy tale, and that you can find a story in everything. Yes,
but such tales are stories and good for nothing. The
right sort come of themselves. They tap at my forehead
and say, here we are. Won't there be a tap soon?
Asked the little boy. And his mother laughed and put
some elder flowers in the teapot and poured boiling water
upon them. Do tell me something, pray do, yes, if
a fairy tale would come of its own accord. But
they are proud and haughty, and come only when they choose. Stop,
said he, on all a sudden, I have it. Pay attention,
there is one in the teapot. And the little boy
looked at the teapot. The cover rose more and more,
and the elder flowers came forth so fresh and white,
and shot up long branches out of the spout. Even
did they spread themselves on all sides, and grew larger
and larger. It was a splendid elder bush, a whole tree,
and it reached into the very bed and pushed the
curtains aside, how it bloomed, and what an odor. In
the middle of the bush sat a friendly looking old
woman in a most strange dress. It was quite green,
like the leaves of the elder, and was trimmed with
large white elder flowers, so that at first one could
not tell whether it was a stuff or a natural
green and real flowers. What's that woman's name, asked the
little boy. The Greeks and the Romans said the old
man called her a dryad, but that we do not understand.
The people who live in the New Booths, which a
row of buildings for seamen in Copenhagen, have a much
better name for her. They call her old Granny, and
she it is to whom you are to pay attention.
Now listen and look at the beautiful elderbush. Just such,
another large blooming elder tree stands near the New Booths.
It grew there in the corner of a little miserable courtyard,
and under it sat of an afternoon in the most
splendid sunshine, two old people, an old old seaman and
his old old wife, and they had great grandchildren and
were soon to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of their marriage.
They could not exactly recollect the date, and old Granny
sat in the tree and looked as pleased as now
I know the date, said she. But those below did
not hear her, for they were talking about old times. Yes,
can't you remember when we were very little, said the
old seaman, and ran and played about. It was the
very same courtyard where we are now, and we stuck
slips in the ground and made a garden. I remember
it well, said the old woman. I remember it quite well.
We watered the slips, and one of them was an
elder bush. It took root, put forth green shoots, and
grew up to be the large tree under which we
old folks are now sitting. To be sure, said he.
And there in the corner stood a water pail where
I used to swim my boats. True, but first we
went to school to learn somewhat, said she. And then
we were confirmed. We both cried. But in the afternoon
we went up the round tower and looked down on
Copenhagen and far far away over the water. Then we
went to Fredericksburg, where the King and the Queen were
sailing about in their splendid barges. But I had a
different sort of sailing to that later, and that too
for many a year, a long way off on great voyages. Yes,
many a time I have wept for your sake, said she.
I thought you were dead and gone, and lying down
in the deep waters. Many a night I have got
up to see if the wind had not changed, And
changed it had, sure enough. But you never came. I
remember so well. One day, when the rain was pouring
down in Torrents. The scavengers were before the house where
I was in service, and I had come up with
the dust and remained standing at the door. It was
dreadful weather, when just as I was there, the postman
came and gave me a letter. It was from you.
What a tour that letter had made. I opened it
instantly and read. I laughed and I wept. I was
so happy in it. I read that you were in
warm lands where the coffee tree grows. What a blessed
land that must be. You related so much, and I
saw it all while the rain was pouring down, and
I was standing there with the dust box. At the
same moment came some one who embraced me. Yes, but
you gave him a good box on his ear that
made it tingle but I did not know it was you.
You arrived as soon as your letter, and you were
so handsome that you still are, and had a long
yellow silk handkerchief round your neck and a brand new
hat on. Oh you were so dashing. Good heavens, what
weather it was, and what a state the street was in.
And then we were married, said he, don't you remember.
And then we had our first little boy, and then
Mary and Nicholas and Peter and Christian. Yes, and how
they all grew up to be honest people and were
beloved by everybody. And their children also have children, said
the old sailor. Yes, those are our our grandchildren, full
of strength and vigor. It was methinks about this season
that we had our wedding. Yes, this very day is
the fiftieth anniversary of the marriage, said old Granny, sticking
her head between the two old people, who thought it
was their neighbor who nodded to them. They looked at
each other and held one another by the hand. Soon
after came their children and their grandchildren, for they knew
well enough that it was the day of the fiftieth anniversary,
and had come with their gratulations that very morning. But
the old people had forgotten it, although they were able
to remember all that happened many years ago. And the
elder bush sent forth a strong odor in the sun
that was just about to set, and shone right in
the old people's face. They both looked so rosy cheeked,
and the youngest of the grandchildren danced around them and
called out, quite delighted that there was to be something
very splendid that evening. They were all to have hot potatoes,
And old Nanny nodded in the bush and shouted hurrah
with the rest. But that is no fairy tale, said
the little boy, who was listening to the story. The
thing is, you must understand it, said the narrator. Let
us ask Old Nanny. That was no fairy tale, tis true,
said old Nanny. But now it's coming. The most wonderful
fairy tales grow out of that which is reality. Were
that not the case, you know, my magnificent elder bush
could not have grown out of the teapot. And then
she took the little boy out of bed, laid him
on her bosom, and the branches of the elder tree
full of flowers, closed around her. They sat in an
aerial dwelling and it flew with them through the air. Oh,
it was wondrous, beautiful. Old Nanny had grown all of
a sudden, young and pretty maiden. Old Nanny had grown
all of a sudden, a young and pretty maiden. But
her robe was still the same green stuff with white flowers,
which she had worn before. On her bosom, she had
a real elder flower, and in her yellow waving hair
a wreath of the flowers. Her eyes were so large
and blue that it was a pleasure to look at them.
She kissed the boy, and now they were of the
same age and felt alike. Hand in hand, they went
out of the bower, and they were standing in the
beautiful garden of their home, near the green lawn. Papa's
walking stick was tied, and for the little ones it
seemed to be endowed with life. For as soon as
they got astride it, the round polished knob was turned
into a magnificent neighing head. A long black mane fluttered
in the breeze, and four slender yet strong legs shot out.
The animal was strong and handsome, and away they went
at full gallop round the lawn. Huzzah, now we are
riding miles off, said the boy, we are riding away
to the castle where we were last year. And on
they rode round the grass plot, and the little maiden,
who we know was no one else but old Nanny,
kept crying out. Now we are in the country. Don't
you see the farmhouse yonder? And there is an elder
tree standing beside it, and the cock is scraping away
the earth for the hens. Look how he struts. And
now we are close to the church. It lies high
upon the hill between the large oak trees, one of
which is half decayed. And now we are by the smithy,
where the fire is blazing, and where the half naked
men are banging with their hammers till the sparks fly
about away away to the beautiful country seat. And all
that the little maiden, who sat behind on the stick
spoke of, flew by. In reality, the boy saw it all,
and yet they were only going around the grass plot.
Then they played in a side avenue and marked out
a little garden on the earth, and they took elder
blossoms from their hair planted them, and they grew just
like those old people planted when they were children. As
related before, they went hand in hand as the old
people had done when they were children, but not to
the round Tower or to Fredericksburg.
Speaker 1: No.
Speaker 2: The little damsel wound her arms round the boy, and
then they flew far away through all Denmark, and spring came,
and summer, and then it was autumn, and then winter,
and a thousand pictures were reflected in the eye and
the heart of the little boy, and the little girl
always sang to him, this you will never forget. And
during their whole flight the elder tree smelt so sweet
and odorous. He remarked the roses and the fresh beaches,
But the elder tree had a more wondrous fragrance, for
its flowers hung on the breast of the little maiden,
and there too did he often lay his head during
the flight. It is lovely here in spring, said the
young maiden, And they stood in a beech wood that
had just put on its first green, where the wood
roof at their feet sent forth its fragrance, and the
pale red anemone looked so pretty among the verdure. Oh,
would it were always spring in the sweetly smelling Danish
beech forests. It is lovely here in summer, said she,
and she flew past old castles of by gone days
of chivalry, where the red walls and the embattled gables
were mirrored in the canal, where the swans were swimming
and peered up into the old cool avenues. In the fields,
the corn is waving like the sea. In the ditches,
red and yellow flowers were growing, while wild drone flowers
and blooming convalvulses were creeping in hedges. And towards evening,
the moon rose round and large, and the haycocks in
the meadows smelt so sweetly. This one never forgets. It
is lovely here in autumn, said the little maiden. And
suddenly the atmosphere grew as blue again as before. The
forest grew red and green and yellow colored. The dog
came leaping along, and whole flocks of wild fowl flew
over the cairn, where black berry bushes were hanging round
the old stones. The sea was dark blue, covered with
ships full of white sails. And in the barn, old women,
maidens and children were sitting picking hops into a large cask.
The young sang songs, but the old told fairy tales
of mountain sprites and soothsayers. Nothing could be more charming.
It is delightful here in winter, said the little Maiden,
And all the trees were covered with hoar frost. They
looked like white corals. The snow crackled underfoot as if
one had new boots on, and one falling star after
the other was seen in the sky. The Christmas tree
was lighted in the room, presents were there, and good
humor reigned in the country. The violin sounded in the
room of the peasant, the newly baked cakes were attacked.
Even the poorest child said, it is really delightful here
in winter. Yes, it was delightful, And the little Maiden
showed the boy everything, and the elder tree still was fragrant,
and the red flag with the white cross was still waving,
the flag under which the old seaman and the new
booths had sailed. And the boy grew up to be
a lad and was to go forth in the wide world,
far far away, to warm lands where the coffee tree grows.
But at his departure, the little Maiden took an elder
blossom from her bosom and gave it to him to keep,
and it was placed between the leaves of his prayer book.
And when in foreign lands he opened the book. It
was always at the place where the keepsake flower lay,
and the more he looked at it, the fresher it became.
He felt, as it were the fragrance of the Danish groves.
And from among the leaves of the flowers, he could
distinctly see the little maiden peeping forth with her bright
blue eyes. And then she whispered, it is delightful here
in spring, summer, autumn, and winter, and a hundred visions
glided before his mind. Thus passed many years. He was
now an old man and sat with his old wife
under the blooming tree. They held each other by the hand,
as the old grandfather and grandmother Yonder and the new
Booths did, and they talked exactly like them, of old
times and of the fiftieth anniversary of their wedding. The
little maiden, with the blue eyes and with elder blossoms
in her hair, sat in the tree, nodded to both
of them and said, today is the fiftieth anniversary. And
then she took two flowers out of her hair and
kissed them. First they shone like silver, then like gold,
And when they laid them on the heads of the
old people, each flower became a golden crown. So there
they both sat, like a king and a queen, under
the fragrant tree that looked exactly like an elder. The
old man told his wife the story of Old Nanny
as it had been told him when a boy, and
it seemed to both of them it contained much that
resembled their own history, and those parts that were like
it pleased them best. Thus it is said the little
maiden in the tree. Some call me Old Nanny, others
a dryad. But in reality my name is Remembrance. Tis
I who sit in the tree that grows and grows.
I can remember, I can tell things. Let me see
if you have my flower still. And the old man
opened his prayer book, and there lay the elder blossom,
as fresh as it had been placed there but a
short time before. And Remembrance nodded, and the old people,
decked with crowns of gold, sat in the flush of
the evening sun. They closed their eyes, and and yes,
that's the end of the story. The little boy lay
in his bed. He did not know if he had
dreamt or not, nor if he had been listening while
someone told him the story. The teapot was standing on
the table, but no elder tree was growing out of it,
and the old man who had been talking, was just
on the point of going out the door, and he
did go. How splendid that was, said the little boy. Mother.
I have been to warm countries, so I should think,
said his mother, when one has drunk two good cupfuls
of elderflower tea, tis likely enough one goes into warm climates.
And she tucked him up nicely lest he should take cold.
You have had. You have had a good sleep while
I have been sitting here and arguing with him whether
it was a story or a fairy tale? And where
is old nanny, asked the little boy in the teapot,
said his mother, And there she may remain the elder bush.
Once upon a time there was a little boy who
had taken cold. He had gone out and got his
feet wet, though nobody could imagine how it happened, for
it was quite dry weather. So his mother undressed him,
put him to bed, and had the teapot brought in
to make him a good cup of elder flower tea.
Just at that moment, the merry old man came in,
who lived up atop the house all alone, for he
had neither wife nor children. But he liked children very much,
and knew so many fairy tales that it was quite delightful. Now,
drink your tea, said the boy's mother. Then perhaps you
may hear a fairy tale if I had but something
new to tell, said the old man. But how did
the child get his feet wet? That is the very
thing that nobody can make out, said his mother. Am
I to hear a fairy tale? Asked the little boy. Yes,
if you can tell me exactly, For I must know
that first how deep the gutter is in the little
street opposite that you pass through in going to school.
Just up to the middle of my boot, said the child.
But then I must go into the deep hole. Ah ah,
that is where the wet feet came from, said the
old man. I ought now to tell you a story,
but I don't know any more. You can make one
in a moment, said the little boy. My mother says
that all you look at can be turned into a
fairy tale, and that you can find a story in everything. Yes,
but such tales are stories and good for nothing. The
right sort come of themselves. They tap at my forehead
and say, here we are. Won't there be a tap soon,
asked the little boy, and his mother laughed and put
some elder flowers in the teapot and poured boiling water
upon them. Do tell me something, pray, do yes, if
a fairy tale would come of its own accord. But
they are proud and haughty, and come only when they choose. Stop,
said he, on all of a sudden, I have it.
Pay attention. There was one in the teapot, and the
little boy looked at the teapot. The cover rose more
and more, and the elderflowers came forth, so fresh and white,
and shot up long branches out of the spout. Even
did they spread themselves on all sides, and grew larger
and larger. It was a splendid elder bush, a whole tree,
and it reached into the very bed and pushed the
curtains aside. How it bloomed, and what an odor. In
the middle of the bush sat a friendly looking old
woman in a most strange dress. It was quite green,
like the leaves of the elder, and was trimmed with
large white elder flowers, so that at first first one
could not tell whether it was a stuff or a
natural green and real flowers. What's that woman's name, asked
the little boy. The Greeks and the Romans said the
old man called her a dryad, but that we do
not understand. The people who live in the New Booths,
which are a row of buildings for Seamen and Copenhagen,
have a much better name for her. They call her
Old Granny, and she it is to whom you are
to pay attention. Now listen and look at the beautiful elderbush.
Just such, another large blooming elder tree stands near the
New Booths. It grew there in the corner of a
little miserable courtyard, and under it sat of an afternoon
in the most splendid sunshine, two old people, an old
old seaman and his old old wife, and they had
great grandchildren and were soon to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary
of their marriage. But they could not exactly recollect the date.
And old Granny sat in the tree and looked as
pleased as now I know the date, said she. But
those below did not hear her, for they were talking
about old times. Yes, can't you remember when we were
very little, said the old seaman, and ran and played about.
It was the very same courtyard where we are now,
and we stuck slips in the ground and made a garden.
I remember it well, said the old woman. I remember
it quite well. We watered the slips, and one of
them was an elder bush. It took root, put forth
green shoots, and grew up to be the large tree
under which we old folks are now sitting. To be sure,
said he. And there in the corner stood a water
pail where I used to swim my boats. True, but
first we went to school to learn somewhat, said she,
And then we were confirmed. We both cried. But in
the afternoon we went up the round tower and looked
down on Copenhagen and far far away over the water.
Then we went to Fredericksburg, where the King and the
Queen were sailing in their splendid barges. But I had
a different sort of sailing to that later, and that too,
for many a year, a long way off on great voyages. Yes,
many a time I have wept for your sake, said she.
I thought you were dead and gone, and lying down
in the deep waters. Many a night I have got
up to see if the wind had not changed, And
changed it had, sure enough, But you never came. I
remember so well. One day, when the rain was pouring
down in Torrents, the scavengers were before the house where
I was in service, and I had come up with
the dust and remained standing at the door. It was
dreadful weather, when just as I was there, that postman
came and gave me letter. It was from you. What
a tour that letter had made. I opened it instantly
and read. I laughed and I wept. I was so
happy in it. I read that you were in warm
lands where the coffee tree grows. What a blessed land
that must be. You related so much, and I saw
it all while the rain was pouring down, and I
was standing there with the dust box. At the same
moment came someone who embraced me. Yes, but you gave
him a good box on his ear that made it tingle.
But I did not know it was you. You arrived
as soon as your letter, and you were so handsome
that you still are, and had a long yellow silk
handkerchief round your neck and a brand new hat on. Oh,
you were so dashing. Good heavens where it was, and
what a state the street was in. And then we
were married, said he don't you remember? And then we
had our first little boy, and then Mary and Nicholas
and Peter and Christian. Yes, and how they all grew
up to be honest people and were beloved by everybody.
And their children also have children, said the old sailor. Yes,
those are our grandchildren, full of strength and vigor. It
was methinks about this season that we had our wedding. Yes,
this very day is the fiftieth anniversary of the marriage,
said old Granny, sticking her head between the two old people,
who thought it was their neighbor who nodded to them.
They looked at each other and held one another by
the hand. Soon after came their children and their grandchildren,
for they knew well enough that it was the day
of the fiftieth anniversary, and had come with their gratulations
that very morning. But the old people had forgotten it,
although they were able to remember all that happened many
years ago. And the elder bush sent forth a strong
odor in the sun that was just about to set,
and shone right in the old people's faces. They both
looked so rosy cheeked, and the youngest of the grandchildren
danced around them and called out, quite delighted that there
was to be something very splendid that evening. They were
all to have hot potatoes, and Old Nanny nodded in
the bush and shouted hurrah with the rest. But that
is no fairy tale, said the little boy, who was
listening to the story. The thing is, you must understand it,
said the narrator. Let us ask Old Nanny. That was
no fairy tale, tis true, said Old Nanny, But now
it's coming. The most wonderful fairy tales grow out of
that which is reality. Were that not the case, you know,
my magnificent elder bush could not have grown out of
the teapot. And then she took the little boy out
of bed, laid him on her bosom, and the branches
of the elder tree, full of flowers, closed around her.
They sat in an aerial dwelling, and it flew with
them through the air. Oh, it was wondrous, beautiful. Old
Nanny had grown all of a sudden, young and pretty maiden.
Old name Annie had grown all of a sudden, a
young and pretty maiden. But her robe was still the
same green, stuffed with white flowers, which she had worn before.
On her bosom she had a real elder flower, and
in her yellow waving hair a wreath of the flowers.
Her eyes were so large and blue that it was
a pleasure to look at them. She kissed the boy,
and now they were of the same age and felt alike.
Hand in hand, they went out of the bower, and
they were standing in the beautiful garden of their home,
near the green lawn. Papa's walking stick was tied, and
for the little ones it seemed to be endowed with life.
For as soon as they got astride it, the round
polished knob was turned into a magnificent neighing head. A
long black mane fluttered in the breeze, and four slender
yet strong legs shot out. The animal was strong and handsome,
and away they went at full gallop round the lawn. Huzzah,
Now we are riding miles off, said the boy. We
are riding away to the castle where we were last year.
And on they rode round the grass plot, and the
little maiden, who we know was no one else but
old Nanny, kept crying out. Now we are in the country.
Don't you see the farm house yonder? And there is
an elder tree standing beside it, and the cock is
scraping away The earth for the hens. Look how he struts.
And now we are close to the church. It lies
high upon the hill, between the large oak trees, one
of which is half decayed. And now we are by
the smithy, where the fire is blazing, and where the
half naked men are banging with their hammers, till the
sparks fly about away away to the beautiful country seat.
And all that the little maiden, who sat behind on
the stick spoke of, flew by. In reality, the boy
saw it all, and yet they were only going around
the grass plot. Then they played in a side avenue
and marked out a little garden on the earth, and
they took elder blossoms from their hair planted them, and
they grew just like those old people planted when they
were children. As related before. They went hand in hand
as the old people had done when they were children.
But not to the round tower or to Fredburg. No,
the little damsel wound her arms round the boy, and
then they flew far away through all Denmark, and spring
came and summer, and then it was autumn, and then winter,
and a thousand pictures were reflected in the eye and
the heart of the little boy and the little girl
always sang to him, this you will never forget. And
during their whole flight the elder tree smelt so sweet
and odorous. He remarked the roses and the fresh beaches,
But the elder tree had a more wondrous fragrance, for
its flowers hung on the breast of the little maiden,
and there too did he often lay his head during
the flight. It is lovely here in spring, said the
young maiden, And they stood in a beech wood that
had just put on its first green, where the wood
roof at their feet sent forth its fragrance, and the
pale red anemone looked so pretty among the verdure. Oh,
would it were always spring in the sweetly smelling Danish
beech forests. It is lovely here in summer, said she.
And she flew past old castles of by gone days
of chivalry, where the red walls and the embattled gables
were mirrored in the canal where the swans were swimming,
and peered up into the old cool avenues. In the fields,
the corn is waving like the sea. In the ditches,
red and yellow flowers were growing, while wild drone flowers
and blooming convalvulses were creeping in hedges, and towards evening,
the moon rose round and large, and the haycocks in
the meadows smelt so sweetly. This one never forgets. It
is lovely here in autumn, said the Little Maiden, And
suddenly the atmosphere grew as blue again as before. The
forest grew red and green and yellow colored. The dogs
came leaping along, and whole flocks of wild fowl flew
over the cairn, where black berry bushes were hanging round
the old stones. The sea was dark blue, covered with
ships full of white sails. And in the barn, old women,
maidens and children were sitting picking hops into a large cask.
The young sang songs, but the old told fairy tales
of mountain sprites, and sooth says nothing could be more charming.
It is delightful here in winter, said the Little Maiden,
And all the trees were covered with hoar frost. They
looked like white corals. The snow crackled underfoot as if
one had new boots on, and one falling star after
the other was seen in the sky. The Christmas tree
was lighted in the room, presents were there, and good
humor reigned in the country, the violin sounded in the
room of the peasant, the newly baked cakes were attacked.
Even the poorest child said, it is really delightful here
in winter. Yes, it was delightful. And the little maiden
showed the boy everything, and the elder trees still was fragrant,
and the red flag with the white cross was still waving,
the flag under which the old seaman and the new
booths had sailed. And the boy grew up to be
a lad, and was to go forth in the wide world,
far far away, to warm lands where the coffee tree grows.
But at his departure, the little Maiden took an elder
blossom from her bosom and gave it to him to keep,
and it was placed between the leaves of his prayer book.
And when in foreign lands he opened the book, it
was always at the place where the keepsake flower lay.
And the more he looked at it, the fresher it became.
He felt, as it were the fragrance of the Danish groves.
And from among the leaves of the flogs, he could
distinctly see the little maiden peeping forth with her bright
blue eyes. And then she whispered it is delightful here
in spring, summer, autumn, and winter, and a hundred visions
glided before his mind. Thus passed many years, and he
was now an old man and sat with his old
wife under the blooming tree. They held each other by
the hand, as the old grandfather and grandmother yonder and
the new boothstead, and they talked exactly like them of
old times and of the fiftieth anniversary of their wedding.
The little maiden, with the blue eyes and with elder
blossoms in her hair, sat in the tree, nodded to
both of them, and said, today is the fiftieth anniversary.
And then she took two flowers out of her hair
and kissed them. First they shone like silver, then like gold,
and when they laid them on the heads of the
old people, each flower became a golden crown. So there
they both sat like a king and a queen, under
the fragrant tree that looked exactly like an elder. The
old man told his wife the story of Old Nanny
as it had been told him when a boy, and
it seemed to both of them it contained much that
resembled their own history, and those parts that were like
it pleased them best. Thus it is said the little
maiden in the tree. Some call me old nanny, others
a dryad. But in reality my name is Remembrance. Tis
I who sit in the tree that grows and grows.
I can remember, I can tell things. Let me see
if you have my flower still. And the old man
opened his prayer book, and there lay the elder blossom,
as fresh as it had been placed there but a
short time before. And Remembrance nodded, and the old people,
decked with crowns of gold, sat in the flush of
the evening sun. They closed their eyes, and and yes,
that's the end of the story. The little boy lay
in his bed. He did not know if he had
dreamt or not, nor if he had been listening while
some one told him the story. The teapot was standing
on the table, but no elder tree was growing out
of it, And the old man who had been talking,
was just on the point of going out the door,
and he did go. How splendid that was, said the
little boy mother. I've been to warm countries, so I
should think, said his mother. When one has drunk two
good cupfuls of elderflower tea, tis likely enough one goes
into warm climates, and she tucked him up nicely, lest
he should take cold. You have had a you have
had a good sleep, while I have been sitting here
and arguing with him whether it was a story or
a fairy tale. And where is old Nanny? Asked the
little boy in the teapot, said his mother, And there
she may remain