A STORY

　　 IN the garden all the apple-trees were in blossom. They had

　　 hastened to bring forth flowers before they got green leaves, and in

　　 the yard all the ducklings walked up and down, and the cat too: it

　　 basked in the sun and licked the sunshine from its own paws. And

　　 when one looked at the fields, how beautifully the corn stood and

　　 how green it shone, without comparison! and there was a twittering and a fluttering of all the little birds, as if the day were a great

　　 festival; and so it was, for it was Sunday. All the bells were

　　 ringing, and all the people went to church, looking cheerful, and

　　 dressed in their best clothes. There was a look of cheerfulness on

　　 everything. The day was so warm and beautiful that one might well have said: "God's kindness to us men is beyond all limits." But inside

　　 the church the pastor stood in the pulpit, and spoke very loudly and

　　 angrily. He said that all men were wicked, and God would punish them for their sins, and that the wicked, when they died, would be cast into hell, to burn for ever and ever. He spoke very excitedly,

　　 saying that their evil propensities would not be destroyed, nor

　　 would the fire be extinguished, and they should never find rest.

　　 That was terrible to hear, and he said it in such a tone of

　　 conviction; he described hell to them as a miserable hole where all

　　 the refuse of the world gathers. There was no air beside the hot

　　 burning sulphur flame, and there was no ground under their feet; they,

　　 the wicked ones, sank deeper and deeper, while eternal silence

　　 surrounded them! It was dreadful to hear all that, for the preacher

　　 spoke from his heart, and all the people in the church were terrified.

　　 Meanwhile, the birds sang merrily outside, and the sun was shining

　　 so beautifully warm, it seemed as though every little flower said:

　　 "God, Thy kindness towards us all is without limits." Indeed,

　　 outside it was not at all like the pastor's sermon.

　　 The same evening, upon going to bed, the pastor noticed his wife

　　 sitting there quiet and pensive.

　　 "What is the matter with you?" he asked her.

　　 "Well, the matter with me is," she said, "that I cannot collect my

　　 thoughts, and am unable to grasp the meaning of what you said to-day in church- that there are so many wicked people, and that they

　　 should burn eternally. Alas! eternally- how long! I am only a woman

　　 and a sinner before God, but I should not have the heart to let even

　　 the worst sinner burn for ever, and how could our Lord to do so, who is so infinitely good, and who knows how the wickedness comes from without and within? No, I am unable to imagine that, although you say so."

　　 It was autumn; the trees dropped their leaves, the earnest and

　　 severe pastor sat at the bedside of a dying person. A pious,

　　 faithful soul closed her eyes for ever; she was the pastor's wife.

　　 ..."If any one shall find rest in the grave and mercy before our

　　 Lord you shall certainly do so," said the pastor. He folded her

　　 hands and read a psalm over the dead woman.

　　 She was buried; two large tears rolled over the cheeks of the

　　 earnest man, and in the parsonage it was empty and still, for its

　　 sun had set for ever. She had gone home.

　　 It was night. A cold wind swept over the pastor's head; he

　　 opened his eyes, and it seemed to him as if the moon was shining

　　 into his room. It was not so, however; there was a being standing

　　 before his bed, and looking like the ghost of his deceased wife. She

　　 fixed her eyes upon him with such a kind and sad expression, just as

　　 if she wished to say something to him. The pastor raised himself in

　　 bed and stretched his arms towards her, saying, "Not even you can find eternal rest! You suffer, you best and most pious woman?"

　　 The dead woman nodded her head as if to say "Yes," and put her

　　 hand on her breast.

　　 "And can I not obtain rest in the grave for you?"

　　 "Yes," was the answer.

　　And how?"

　　 "Give me one hair- only one single hair- from the head of the

　　 sinner for whom the fire shall never be extinguished, of the sinner

　　 whom God will condemn to eternal punishment in hell."

　　 "Yes, one ought to be able to redeem you so easily, you pure,

　　 pious woman," he said.

　　 "Follow me," said the dead woman. "It is thus granted to us. By my

　　 side you will be able to fly wherever your thoughts wish to go.

　　 Invisible to men, we shall penetrate into their most secret

　　 chambers; but with sure hand you must find out him who is destined

　　 to eternal torture, and before the cock crows he must be found!" As

　　 quickly as if carried by the winged thoughts they were in the great

　　 city, and from the walls the names of the deadly sins shone in flaming

　　 letters: pride, avarice, drunkenness, wantonness- in short, the

　　 whole seven-coloured bow of sin.

　　 "Yes, therein, as I believed, as I knew it," said the pastor, "are

　　 living those who are abandoned to the eternal fire." And they were

　　 standing before the magnificently illuminated gate; the broad steps

　　 were adorned with carpets and flowers, and dance music was sounding through the festive halls. A footman dressed in silk and velvet stood with a large silver-mounted rod near the entrance.

　　 "Our ball can compare favourably with the king's," he said, and

　　 turned with contempt towards the gazing crowd in the street. What he

　　 thought was sufficiently expressed in his features and movements:

　　 "Miserable beggars, who are looking in, you are nothing in

　　 comparison to me."

　　 "Pride," said the dead woman; "do you see him?"

　　 "The footman?" asked the pastor. "He is but a poor fool, and not

　　 doomed to be tortured eternally by fire!"

　　 "Only a fool!" It sounded through the whole house of pride: they

　　 were all fools there.

　　 Then they flew within the four naked walls of the miser. Lean as a

　　 skeleton, trembling with cold, and hunger, the old man was clinging

　　 with all his thoughts to his money. They saw him jump up feverishly

　　 from his miserable couch and take a loose stone out of the wall; there

　　 lay gold coins in an old stocking. They saw him anxiously feeling over an old ragged coat in which pieces of gold were sewn, and his clammy fingers trembled.

　　 "He is ill! That is madness- a joyless madness- besieged by fear

　　 and dreadful dreams!"

　　 They quickly went away and came before the beds of the

　　 criminals; these unfortunate people slept side by side, in long

　　 rows. Like a ferocious animal, one of them rose out of his sleep and

　　 uttered a horrible cry, and gave his comrade a violent dig in the ribs

　　 with his pointed elbow, and this one turned round in his sleep:

　　 "Be quiet, monster- sleep! This happens every night!"

　　 "Every night!" repeated the other. "Yes, every night he comes

　　 and tortures me! In my violence I have done this and that. I was

　　 born with an evil mind, which has brought me hither for the second

　　 time; but if I have done wrong I suffer punishment for it. One

　　 thing, however, I have not yet confessed. When I came out a little

　　 while ago, and passed by the yard of my former master, evil thoughts

　　 rose within me when I remembered this and that. I struck a match a

　　 little bit on the wall; probably it came a little too close to the

　　 thatched roof. All burnt down- a great heat rose, such as sometimes

　　 overcomes me. I myself helped to rescue cattle and things, nothing

　　 alive burnt, except a flight of pigeons, which flew into the fire, and

　　 the yard dog, of which I had not thought; one could hear him howl

　　 out of the fire, and this howling I still hear when I wish to sleep;

　　 and when I have fallen asleep, the great rough dog comes and places

　　 himself upon me, and howls, presses, and tortures me. Now listen to

　　 what I tell you! You can snore; you are snoring the whole night, and I

　　 hardly a quarter of an hour!" And the blood rose to the head of the

　　 excited criminal; he threw himself upon his comrade, and beat him with his clenced fist in the face.

　　 "Wicked Matz has become mad again!" they said amongst

　　 themselves. The other criminals seized him, wrestled with him, and

　　 bent him double, so that his head rested between his knees, and they

　　 tied him, so that the blood almost came out of his eyes and out of all

　　 his pores.

　　 "You are killing the unfortunate man," said the pastor, and as

　　 he stretched out his hand to protect him who already suffered too

　　 much, the scene changed. They flew through rich halls and wretched

　　 hovels; wantonness and envy, all the deadly sins, passed before

　　 them. An angel of justice read their crimes and their defence; the

　　 latter was not a brilliant one, but it was read before God, Who

　　 reads the heart, Who knows everything, the wickedness that comes

　　 from within and from without, Who is mercy and love personified.

　　 The pastor's hand trembled; he dared not stretch it out, he did not

　　 venture to pull a hair out of the sinner's head. And tears gushed from

　　 his eyes like a stream of mercy and love, the cooling waters of

　　 which extinguished the eternal fire of hell.

　　 Just then the cock crowed.

　　 "Father of all mercy, grant Thou to her the peace that I was

　　 unable to procure for her!"

　　 "I have it now!" said the dead woman. "It was your hard words,

　　 your despair of mankind, your gloomy belief in God and His creation,

　　 which drove me to you. Learn to know mankind! Even in the wicked one lives a part of God- and this extinguishes and conquers the flame of hell!"

　　 The pastor felt a kiss on his lips; a gleam of light surrounded

　　 him- God's bright sun shone into the room, and his wife, alive,

　　 sweet and full of love, awoke him from a dream which God had sent him!

　　 THE END

　　 LastIndexNext

　　 Written By Anderson