There was once a little boy who had caught cold; he had gone out and
got wet feet. No one could imagine how it had happened, for it was
quite dry weather. His mother undressed him, put him to bed, and had
the tea-urn brought in to make him a good cup of elder tea, for that
warms well.
"Now you are to drink your tea," said the mother, "and then perhaps
you will hear a story."
The little boy drank the elder tea and then looked at the tea-pot. The
lid raised itself and the elder flowers came forth from it, white and
fresh. They shot forth long branches even out of the spout; they
spread about in all directions and became larger and larger. There was
the most glorious elder bush, in fact quite a tree. It stretched to
the bed and thrust the curtains aside; how fragrant it was and how it
bloomed! And in the midst of the tree sat an old, pleasant looking
woman in a strange dress. It was quite green like the leaves of the
elder tree, and bordered with great white elder blossoms. One could
not tell whether this border was of stuff, or of living green and real
flowers.
"Who are you?" the little boy asked.
"They used to call me a Dryad," said the woman, "but I have a better
name than that. I am the Elder Tree Mother."
Then she took the little boy out of bed, and laid him upon her bosom.
The blossoming elder branches wound round them so they sat as it were
in the thickest arbor, and this arbor flew away with them through the
air. It was very beautiful. Elder Mother all at once became a pretty
young girl; at her throat she had a real elder flower, and on her head
a wreath of elder blossoms. Her eyes were large and blue. She and the
boy were of the same age and felt the same joys.
Hand in hand they went out of the arbor, and now they stood in the
beauteous flower garden of home. The father's staff was tied up near
the fresh grass plot, and for the little boy there was life in the
staff. The polished head turned into a noble, neighing horse's head
with a flowing mane, and four slender legs shot forth. They seated
themselves upon it and began to ride miles away. And the little girl
who, as we know, was no one else but Elder Mother, cried out,
"Now we're in the country. Do you see the farm-house with the great
baking oven standing out of the wall? The elder tree spreads its
branches over it, and the cock walks about, scratching for his hens.
Look how he struts!
"Now we are at the forge where the fire burns and the hammers send
bright sparks flying far around. But away, away!"
Everything, and more than the little girl mentioned as she sat on the
stick behind him, flew past them. He will never forget, and throughout
their whole journey the elder tree smelled so fresh, so fragrant. He
noticed the roses and the fresh beech trees, but the elder tree
smelled stronger than all for its flowers hung round the little girl
and he often leaned against them as they flew onward.
"Here it is beautiful in spring!" said the little girl.
And they stood in the green beech wood where the thyme lay in
fragrance beneath their feet and pink anemones looked pretty against
the green.
"Here it is beautiful in summer!" said she.
And they passed by old castles where swans swam about and they looked
down the shady avenues. In the fields the corn waved like a sea. In
the ditches yellow and red flowers were growing, and in the hedges
wild hops. In the evening the moon rose, round and large, and the
haystacks in the meadows smelled sweet.
"Here it is beautiful in autumn!" said the little girl.
And the sky seemed twice as lofty and twice as blue as before and the
forests were decked in the most gorgeous tints of red, yellow, and
green. Whole flocks of wild ducks flew screaming overhead. The sea was
dark blue and covered with ships with white sails; and in the barns
sat old women, girls, and children picking hops into a large tub. The
young people sang songs and the older ones told tales of goblins. It
could hardly be finer anywhere.
"Here it is beautiful in winter!" said the little girl.
All the trees were covered with hoar frost so that they looked like
white trees of coral. The snow creaked beneath one's boots as if every
one had new boots on, and one shooting star after another fell from
the sky. In the houses Christmas trees were lighted, and there were
presents and there was happiness. In the country people's farm-houses
the violin sounded, and there were merry games for apples. Even the
poorest child said, "It is beautiful in winter!"
So the little girl showed the boy everything, and suddenly the boy
grew up and was to go out into the wide world, far away to the hot
countries where the coffee grows. When they were to part the little
girl took an elder blossom from her wreath and gave it to him to keep.
He put it in a book, and the more he looked at the flower the fresher
it became so that he seemed, as it were, to breathe the forest air of
home. Then he plainly saw the little girl looking out with her clear
blue eyes from between the petals of the flower and she whispered,
"Here it is beautiful in spring, summer, autumn, and winter!" and
hundreds of pictures glided through his thoughts.
Many years went by. He seemed to be an old man and sat with his wife
under the blossoming elder tree. The little maiden with the blue eyes
and with the wreath of elder blossoms in her hair sat up in the tree,
and nodded to both of them, and said, "To-day is our golden wedding
day!" Then she took two flowers out of her hair and kissed them, and
they gleamed, first, like silver, then like gold. When she laid them
on the heads of the old people, each changed to a golden crown. There
they both sat like a King and Queen, under a fragrant tree that
looked quite like an elder bush; and he told his old wife the story of
the Elder Tree Mother.
"Some call me Elder Tree Mother," said the little girl in the tree,
"others the Dryad, but my real name is Remembrance. It is I who sit in
the tree that grows on and on, and I can think back and tell stories.
Let me see if you still have your flower?"
The old man opened his book; there lay the elder blossom as fresh as
if it had only just been placed there; and Remembrance nodded, and the
two old people with the golden crowns on their heads sat in the red
evening sunlight, and they closed their eyes, and--the story was
finished.
The little boy lay in his bed and did not know whether he had been
dreaming or had heard a tale told. The tea-pot stood on the table, but
no elder bush was growing out of it.
"How beautiful that was!" said the little boy. "Mother, I have been in
the hot countries."
"Yes, I am sure of that!" replied the mother. "When one drinks two
cups of hot elder tea one very often gets into the hot countries." And
she covered him up well that he might not take cold. "You have slept
well," she said.
"But where is the Elder Tree Mother?" asked the little lad.
"She's in the tea-pot," said his mother, "and there she may stay."