of sorrow nor clanger. As we assembled for breakfast, there came a rumour, brought by a telegram, that an English steamer had gone down on the west coast. We were in great anxiety, but just then came a telegram from Frederick and his young wife, who had been saved and would soon be with us.
They all wept together ; I wept too, and Great-grandfather wept, folded his hands, and—I am certain of it— blessed the new times.
That day Great-grandfather gave twenty pounds for the monument to Hans Christian Oersted, the electrician.
When Frederick came home with his young wife and heard it, he said, ' That was right, Great-grandfather ! now I shall read to you what Oersted many years ago said about the old and new times ! '
1 He was of your opinion, no doubt ? ' said Greatgrandfather.
' Yes, you may be sure of that,' said Frederick ; ' and you are too, since you have subscribed for the monument to him ! '
There was once a big wax-candle which knew its own importance quite well.
' I am born of wax and moulded in a shape,' it said ; ' I give better light and burn longer than other candles ; my place is in a chandelier or on a silver candlestick ! '
1 That must be a lovely existence ! ' said the tallow-candle. * I am only made of tallow, but I comfort myself with the thought that it is always a little better than being a farthing dip : that is only dipped twice, and 1 am dipped eight times to get my proper thickness. I am content ! it is certainly finer and more fortunate to be born of wax instead of tallow, but one does not settle one's own place in this world. You are placed in the big room in the glass chandelier, I remain in the kitchen, but that is also a good place ; from there the whole house gets its food.'