A GREAT GRIEF

by Hans Christian Andersen

THIS story really consists of two parts. the first part might be

left out, but it gives us a few particulars, and these are useful

We were staying in the country at a gentleman's seat, where it

happened that the master was absent for a few days. In the meantime,

there arrived from the next town a lady; she had a pug dog with her,

and came, she said, to dispose of shares in her tan-yard. She had

her papers with her, and we advised her to put them in an envelope,

and to write thereon the address of the proprietor of the estate,

"General War-Commissary Knight," &c.

She listened to us attentively, seized the pen, paused, and begged

us to repeat the direction slowly. We complied, and she wrote; but

in the midst of the "General War-" she struck fast, sighed deeply, and

said, "I am only a woman!" Her Puggie had seated itself on the

ground while she wrote, and growled; for the dog had come with her for

amusement and for the sake of its health; and then the bare floor

ought not to be offered to a visitor. His outward appearance was

characterized by a snub nose and a very fat back.

"He doesn't bite," said the lady; "he has no teeth. He is like one

of the family, faithful and grumpy; but the latter is my

grandchildren's fault, for they have teased him; they play at wedding,

and want to give him the part of the bridesmaid, and that's too much

for him, poor old fellow."

And she delivered her papers, and took Puggie upon her arm. And

this is the first part of the story which might have been left out.

PUGGIE DIED!! That's the second part.

It was about a week afterwards we arrived in the town, and put

up at the inn. Our windows looked into the tan-yard, which was divided

into two parts by a partition of planks; in one half were many skins

and hides, raw and tanned. Here was all the apparatus necessary to

carry on a tannery, and it belonged to the widow. Puggie had died in

the morning, and was to be buried in this part of the yard; the

grandchildren of the widow (that is, of the tanner's widow, for Puggie

had never been married) filled up the grave, and it was a beautiful

grave- it must have been quite pleasant to lie there.

The grave was bordered with pieces of flower-pots and strewn

over with sand; quite at the top they had stuck up half a beer bottle,

with the neck upwards, and that was not at all allegorical.

The children danced round the grave, and the eldest of the boys

among them, a practical youngster of seven years, made the proposition

that there should be an exhibition of Puggie's burial-place for all

who lived in the lane; the price of admission was to be a trouser

button, for every boy would be sure to have one, and each might also

give one for a little girl. This proposal was adopted by acclamation.

And all the children out of the lane- yes, even out of the

little lane at the back- flocked to the place, and each gave a button.

Many were noticed to go about on that afternoon with only one

suspender; but then they had seen Puggie's grave, and the sight was

worth much more.

But in front of the tan-yard, close to the entrance, stood a

little girl clothed in rags, very pretty to look at, with curly

hair, and eyes so blue and clear that it was a pleasure to look into

them. The child said not a word, nor did she cry; but each time the

little door was opened she gave a long, long look into the yard. She

had not a button- that she knew right well, and therefore she remained

standing sorrowfully outside, till all the others had seen the grave

and had gone away; then she sat down, held her little brown hands

before her eyes, and burst into tears; this girl alone had not seen

Puggie's grave. It was a grief as great to her as any grown person can

experience.

We saw this from above; and looked at from above, how many a grief

of our own and of others can make us smile! That is the story, and

whoever does not understand it may go and purchase a share in the

tan-yard from the window.

THE END