strutting about with a string tied to its leg, for fear it should take fright at the crowd, and run away and get lost. The tail-feathers of this fowl were very short, and it winked with both its eyes, and looked very cunning, as it said, "Cluck, cluck." What were the thoughts of the fowl as it said this I cannot tell you; but directly our good man saw it, he thought, "Why, that's the finest fowl I ever saw in my life; it's finer than our parson's brood hen, upon my word. I should like to have that fowl. Fowls can always pick up a few grains that lie about, and almost keep themselves. I think it would be a good exchange if I could get it for my goose. Shall we exchange?" he asked the toll-keeper. “Exchange, repeated the man;\"well, it would not be a bad thing. And so they made an exchange, — the toll-keeper at the turnpike-gate kept the goose, and the peasant carried off the fowl. Now he really had done a great deal of business on his way to the fair, and he was hot and tired. He wanted something to eat, and a glass of ale to refresh himself; so he turned his steps to an inn. He was just about to enter when the ostler came out, and they met at the door. The ostler was carrying a sack. "What have you in that sack?" asked the peasant. "Rotten apples," (answered the ostler "a whole sackful of them. They will do to feed the pigs with." 66 Why, that will be terrible waste," he replied;\"I should like to take them home to my old woman. Last year the old apple-tree by the grass-plot only bore one apple, and we kept it in the cupboard till it was quite withered and rotten. It was always property, my old woman said; and here she would see a great deal of property to her." a whole sackful: I should like to show them "What will you give me for the sackful?" asked the ostler. "What will I give ? Well, I will give you my fowl in exchange." So he gave up the fowl, and received the apples, which he carried into the inn parlour. He leaned the sack carefully against the stove, and then went to the table. But the stove was hot, and he had not thought of that. Many guests were present — horse-dealers, cattle drovers, and two Englishmen. The Englishmen were so rich that their pockets quite bulged out and seemed ready to burst; and they could bet too, as you shall hear. "Hiss-s-s, hiss- -S-S. What could that be by the stove? The apples were beginning to roast. "What is that?" asked one. "Why, do you know "said our peasant. And then he told them the whole story of the horse, which he had exchanged for a cow, and all the rest of it, down to the apples. "Well, your old woman will give it you well when you get home," said one of the Englishmen. "Won't there be a noise?" "What! Give me what?" said the peasant. "Why, she will kiss me, and say, 'what the old man does is always right.' "Let us lay a wager on it," said the Englishman. "We'll wager you a ton of coined gold, a hundred pounds to the hundredweight." "No; a bushelful will be enough," replied the peasant. "I can only set a bushel of apples against it, and I'll throw myself and my old woman into the bargain; that will pile up the measure, I fancy." "Done! taken!" and so the bet was made. Then the landlord's coach came to the door, and the two Englishmen and the peasant got in, and away they drove, and soon arrived and stopped at the peasant's hut. "Good evening, old woman." "Good evening, old man." "I've made the exchange." "Ah, well, you understand what you're about,” said the woman. Then she embraced him, and paid no attention to the strangers, nor did she notice the sack. "I got a cow in exchange for the horse." "Thank Heaven," said she. "Now we shall have plenty of milk, and butter, and cheese on the table. That was a capital exchange.' "Yes, but I changed the cow for a sheep." "Ah, better still!" cried the wife. "You always think of everything; we have just enough pasture for a sheep. Ewe's milk and cheese, woollen jackets and stockings! The cow could not give all these, and her hairs only fall off. How you think of everything!" "But I changed away the sheep for a goose." "Then we shall have roast goose to eat this year. You dear old man, you are always thinking of something to please me. This is delightful. We can let the goose walk about with a string tied to her leg, so she will be fatter still before we roast her." "But I gave away the goose for a fowl." "A fowl! Well, that was a good exchange," replied the woman. "The fowl will lay eggs and hatch them, and we shall have chickens; we shall soon have a poultry-yard. Oh, this is just what I was wishing for." "Yes, but I exchanged the fowl for a sack of shrivelled apples." "What! I must really give you a kiss for that!" exclaimed the wife. "My dear, good husband, now I'll tell you something. Do you know, almost as soon as you left me this morning I began thinking of what I could give you nice for supper this evening, and then I thought of fried eggs and bacon, with sweet herbs; I had eggs and bacon, but I wanted the herbs; so I went over to the schoolmaster's: I knew they had plenty of herbs, but the schoolmistress is very mean, although she can smile so sweetly. I begged her to lend me a handful of herbs. 'Lend!' she exclaimed, 'I have nothing to lend; nothing at all grows in our garden, not even a shrivelled apple; I could not even lend you a shrivelled apple, my dear woman.' But now I can lend her ten, or a whole sackful, which I'm very glad of; it makes me laugh to think about it;" and then she gave him a hearty kiss. "Well, I like all this," said both the Englishmen ; "always going down the hill, and yet always merry; it's worth the money to see it." So they paid a bushel of gold to the peasant, who, whatever he did, was not scolded, but kissed. Yes, it always pays best when the wife sees and maintains that her husband knows best, and that whatever he does is right. now that "What This is a story which I heard when I was a child; and now you have heard it too, and the old man does is always right."\ H C. Andersen XVII FAMILY FRIENDS The Schoolmistress TEAR to this dome is found a patch so green, NEAR On which the tribe their gambols do display, The noises intermix'd, which thence resound, Do Learning's little tenement betray, Where sits the dame, disguis'd in look profound, And eyes her fairy throng, and turns her wheel around. Her cap, far whiter than the driven snow, |