A STORY FROM THE SAND-HILLS

                                      1872

                     FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

                          A STORY FROM THE SAND-HILLS

                           by Hans Christian Andersen



    THIS story is from the sand-dunes or sand-hills of Jutland, but it

does not begin there in the North, but far away in the South, in

Spain. The wide sea is the highroad from nation to nation; journey

in thought; then, to sunny Spain. It is warm and beautiful there;

the fiery pomegranate flowers peep from among dark laurels; a cool

refreshing breeze from the mountains blows over the orange gardens,

over the Moorish halls with their golden cupolas and coloured walls.

Children go through the streets in procession with candles and

waving banners, and the sky, lofty and clear with its glittering

stars, rises above them. Sounds of singing and castanets can be heard,

and youths and maidens dance upon the flowering acacia trees, while

even the beggar sits upon a block of marble, refreshing himself with a

juicy melon, and dreamily enjoying life. It all seems like a beautiful

dream.

    Here dwelt a newly married couple who completely gave themselves

up to the charm of life; indeed they possessed every good thing they

could desire- health and happiness, riches and honour.

    We are as happy as human beings can be," said the young couple

from the depths of their hearts. They had indeed only one step

higher to mount on the ladder of happiness- they hoped that God

would give them a child, a son like them in form and spirit. The happy

little one was to be welcomed with rejoicing, to be cared for with

love and tenderness, and enjoy every advantage of wealth and luxury

that a rich and influential family can give. So the days went by

like a joyous festival.

    "Life is a gracious gift from God, almost too great a gift for

us to appreciate!" said the young wife. "Yet they say that fulness

of joy for ever and ever can only be found in the future life. I

cannot realise it!"

    "The thought arises, perhaps, from the arrogance of men," said the

husband. "It seems a great pride to believe that we shall live for

ever, that we shall be as gods! Were not these the words of the

serpent, the father of lies?"

    "Surely you do not doubt the existence of a future life?"

exclaimed the young wife. It seemed as if one of the first shadows

passed over her sunny thoughts.

    "Faith realises it, and the priests tell us so," replied her

husband; "but amid all my happiness I feel that it is arrogant to

demand a continuation of it- another life after this. Has not so

much been given us in this world that we ought to be, we must be,

contented with it?"