THE OWL AND THE PUSSY-CAT

BY EDWARD LEAR

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat;

They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the moon above,
And sang to a small guitar,

"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,—
You are,

What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl! How wonderfully sweet you sing!

O let us be married, too long we have tarried,

But what shall we do for a ring? They sailed away for a year and a day To the land where the Bongtree grows, And there in a wood, a piggy-wig stood

With a ring in the end of his nose,-
His nose,

With a ring in the end of his nose.

"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for a shilling
Your ring?" Said the piggy, "I will;
So they took it away, and were married next
day

By the turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined upon mince and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon,
And hand in hand on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,-
The moon,

They danced by the light of the moon.

HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

I

Hans Andersen doesn't look much like a prince, does he? But that is what he was, what he is and what

he always will be for he is

the prince of story-tellers!

You say so yourself

don't you? Go back a

hundred years with me; then cross the sea

to the little

town of Odense, in Denmark. We will walk down a narrow bit of a street until we come to an old six-story house. Up the rickety stairs we go, up and up. At last we open the door of a little back room and step inside. How clean

everything is!

and the spring sun shines on the plates and metal

A bed shut in by cur-
At the low open win-

pans set against the wall. tains stands in the corner. dow sits a young man mending shoes, tap, tap, tap. His wife is busy paring potatoes for their scanty dinner. Is this what we came to see? Ah, no!

We hear a low childish laugh from the roof outside. That must be why we came! Let us step out there. Do you see a little yellow-haired boy of six or seven years, playing with his dolls? That is little Hans Andersen. He does not mind us in the least for, see, he goes right on. What is he doing so busily? He is making new clothes for his dolls. They are to be the actors in a little play that Hans has made up all by himself.

The theater is to be under some green boughs that Hans and his father brought home from the woods yesterday. They are placed up against a big wooden box in which Hans's mother grows her tiny garden. Five Peas in a Pod grew out of that garden, too. You already know about them, don't you?

You can see from all this that Hans Andersen

was born into a very happy home. The parents are poor, very poor. Hans wears his father's made-over clothes, and his mother pins bits of bright silk on his breast for a little vest. But he is as clean and sweet and happy as a bird and gets a great deal of love. What more than that has any prince in a palace? I forgot to tell you, he has a grandmother, too, such a dear kind grandmother. Every Sunday evening she brings him a little bunch of flowers, and Hans, himself, puts them into a glass of water.

II

The next part of my story is not so happy. But it comes out right in the end, just like the Ugly Duckling. Indeed, Hans Andersen later called himself the Ugly Duckling.

The dear father died. This brought sad times, I tell you. The father, for all he had only made shoes, had been a great student. He liked to read, and many and many an hour had he spent in reading to little Hans, and in teaching him to read.

Of all things he wished his son to become an