Chapter Chapter 9 · The Best That the Galoshes Gave（4）

Then came the Grasshopper. He was considerably heavier, but he was

well-mannered, and wore a green uniform, which he had by right of birth;

he said, moreover, that he belonged to a very ancient Egyptian family,

and that in the house where he then was, he was thought much of. The

fact was, he had been just brought out of the fields, and put in a

pasteboard house, three stories high, all made of court-cards, with the

colored side inwards; and doors and windows cut out of the body of

the Queen of Hearts. “I sing so well,” said he, “that sixteen native

grasshoppers who have chirped from infancy, and yet got no house built

of cards to live in, grew thinner than they were before for sheer

vexation when they heard me.”

It was thus that the Flea and the Grasshopper gave an account of

themselves, and thought they were quite good enough to marry a Princess.

The Leap-frog said nothing; but people gave it as their opinion, that

he therefore thought the more; and when the housedog snuffed at him

with his nose, he confessed the Leap-frog was of good family. The old

councillor, who had had three orders given him to make him hold his

tongue, asserted that the Leap-frog was a prophet; for that one could

see on his back, if there would be a severe or mild winter, and that

was what one could not see even on the back of the man who writes the

almanac.

“I say nothing, it is true,” exclaimed the King; “but I have my own

opinion, notwithstanding.”

Now the trial was to take place. The Flea jumped so high that nobody

could see where he went to; so they all asserted he had not jumped at

all; and that was dishonorable.

The Grasshopper jumped only half as high; but he leaped into the King's

face, who said that was ill-mannered.

The Leap-frog stood still for a long time lost in thought; it was

believed at last he would not jump at all.

“I only hope he is not unwell,” said the house-dog; when, pop! he made a

jump all on one side into the lap of the Princess, who was sitting on a

little golden stool close by.

Hereupon the King said, “There is nothing above my daughter; therefore

to bound up to her is the highest jump that can be made; but for this,

one must possess understanding, and the Leap-frog has shown that he has

understanding. He is brave and intellectual.”

And so he won the Princess.

“It's all the same to me,” said the Flea. “She may have the old

Leap-frog, for all I care. I jumped the highest; but in this world

merit seldom meets its reward. A fine exterior is what people look at

now-a-days.”

The Flea then went into foreign service, where, it is said, he was

killed.

The Grasshopper sat without on a green bank, and reflected on worldly

things; and he said too, “Yes, a fine exterior is everything--a fine

exterior is what people care about.” And then he began chirping his

peculiar melancholy song, from which we have taken this history; and

which may, very possibly, be all untrue, although it does stand here

printed in black and white.

THE ELDERBUSH

Once upon a time there was a little boy who had taken cold. He had

gone out and got his feet wet; though nobody could imagine how it had

happened, for it was quite dry weather. So his mother undressed him, put

him to bed, and had the tea-pot brought in, to make him a good cup of

Elderflower tea. Just at that moment the merry old man came in who

lived up a-top of the house all alone; for he had neither wife nor

children--but he liked children very much, and knew so many fairy tales,

that it was quite delightful.

“Now drink your tea,” said the boy's mother; “then, perhaps, you may

hear a fairy tale.”

“If I had but something new to tell,” said the old man. “But how did the

child get his feet wet?”

“That is the very thing that nobody can make out,” said his mother.

“Am I to hear a fairy tale?” asked the little boy.

“Yes, if you can tell me exactly--for I must know that first--how deep

the gutter is in the little street opposite, that you pass through in

going to school.”

“Just up to the middle of my boot,” said the child; “but then I must go

into the deep hole.”

“Ah, ah! That's where the wet feet came from,” said the old man. “I

ought now to tell you a story; but I don't know any more.”

“You can make one in a moment,” said the little boy. “My mother says

that all you look at can be turned into a fairy tale: and that you can

find a story in everything.”

“Yes, but such tales and stories are good for nothing. The right sort

come of themselves; they tap at my forehead and say, 'Here we are.'”

“Won't there be a tap soon?” asked the little boy. And his mother

laughed, put some Elder-flowers in the tea-pot, and poured boiling water

upon them.

“Do tell me something! Pray do!”

“Yes, if a fairy tale would come of its own accord; but they are proud

and haughty, and come only when they choose. Stop!” said he, all on a

sudden. “I have it! Pay attention! There is one in the tea-pot!”

And the little boy looked at the tea-pot. The cover rose more and more;

and the Elder-flowers came forth so fresh and white, and shot up long

branches. Out of the spout even did they spread themselves on all sides,

and grew larger and larger; it was a splendid Elderbush, a whole tree;

and it reached into the very bed, and pushed the curtains aside. How

it bloomed! And what an odour! In the middle of the bush sat a

friendly-looking old woman in a most strange dress. It was quite

green, like the leaves of the elder, and was trimmed with large white

Elder-flowers; so that at first one could not tell whether it was a

stuff, or a natural green and real flowers.

“What's that woman's name?” asked the little boy.

“The Greeks and Romans,” said the old man, “called her a Dryad; but that

we do not understand. The people who live in the New Booths [*] have a much

better name for her; they call her 'old Granny'--and she it is to

whom you are to pay attention. Now listen, and look at the beautiful

Elderbush.

* A row of buildings for seamen in Copenhagen.

“Just such another large blooming Elder Tree stands near the New Booths.

It grew there in the corner of a little miserable court-yard; and under

it sat, of an afternoon, in the most splendid sunshine, two old

people; an old, old seaman, and his old, old wife. They had

great-grand-children, and were soon to celebrate the fiftieth

anniversary of their marriage; but they could not exactly recollect the

date: and old Granny sat in the tree, and looked as pleased as now. 'I

know the date,' said she; but those below did not hear her, for they

were talking about old times.

“'Yes, can't you remember when we were very little,' said the old

seaman, 'and ran and played about? It was the very same court-yard where

we now are, and we stuck slips in the ground, and made a garden.'

“'I remember it well,' said the old woman; 'I remember it quite well. We

watered the slips, and one of them was an Elderbush. It took root, put

forth green shoots, and grew up to be the large tree under which we old

folks are now sitting.'

“'To be sure,' said he. 'And there in the corner stood a waterpail,

where I used to swim my boats.'

“'True; but first we went to school to learn somewhat,' said she; 'and

then we were confirmed. We both cried; but in the afternoon we went up

the Round Tower, and looked down on Copenhagen, and far, far away over

the water; then we went to Friedericksberg, where the King and the Queen

were sailing about in their splendid barges.'

“'But I had a different sort of sailing to that, later; and that, too,

for many a year; a long way off, on great voyages.'

“'Yes, many a time have I wept for your sake,' said she. 'I thought you

were dead and gone, and lying down in the deep waters. Many a night have

I got up to see if the wind had not changed: and changed it had, sure

enough; but you never came. I remember so well one day, when the rain

was pouring down in torrents, the scavengers were before the house where

I was in service, and I had come up with the dust, and remained standing

at the door--it was dreadful weather--when just as I was there, the

postman came and gave me a letter. It was from you! What a tour that

letter had made! I opened it instantly and read: I laughed and wept.

I was so happy. In it I read that you were in warm lands where the

coffee-tree grows. What a blessed land that must be! You related so

much, and I saw it all the while the rain was pouring down, and I

standing there with the dust-box. At the same moment came someone who

embraced me.'

“'Yes; but you gave him a good box on his ear that made it tingle!'

“'But I did not know it was you. You arrived as soon as your letter,

and you were so handsome--that you still are--and had a long yellow silk

handkerchief round your neck, and a bran new hat on; oh, you were so

dashing! Good heavens! What weather it was, and what a state the street

was in!'

“'And then we married,' said he. 'Don't you remember? And then we

had our first little boy, and then Mary, and Nicholas, and Peter, and

Christian.'

“'Yes, and how they all grew up to be honest people, and were beloved by

everybody.'

“'And their children also have children,' said the old sailor; 'yes,

those are our grand-children, full of strength and vigor. It was,

methinks about this season that we had our wedding.'

“'Yes, this very day is the fiftieth anniversary of the marriage,' said

old Granny, sticking her head between the two old people; who thought

it was their neighbor who nodded to them. They looked at each other and

held one another by the hand. Soon after came their children, and their

grand-children; for they knew well enough that it was the day of the

fiftieth anniversary, and had come with their gratulations that very

morning; but the old people had forgotten it, although they were able

to remember all that had happened many years ago. And the Elderbush sent

forth a strong odour in the sun, that was just about to set, and shone

right in the old people's faces. They both looked so rosy-cheeked; and

the youngest of the grandchildren danced around them, and called out

quite delighted, that there was to be something very splendid that

evening--they were all to have hot potatoes. And old Nanny nodded in the

bush, and shouted 'hurrah!' with the rest.”

“But that is no fairy tale,” said the little boy, who was listening to

the story.

“The thing is, you must understand it,” said the narrator; “let us ask

old Nanny.”

“That was no fairy tale, 'tis true,” said old Nanny; “but now it's

coming. The most wonderful fairy tales grow out of that which is

reality; were that not the case, you know, my magnificent Elderbush

could not have grown out of the tea-pot.” And then she took the little

boy out of bed, laid him on her bosom, and the branches of the Elder

Tree, full of flowers, closed around her. They sat in an aerial

dwelling, and it flew with them through the air. Oh, it was wondrous

beautiful! Old Nanny had grown all of a sudden a young and pretty

maiden; but her robe was still the same green stuff with white flowers,

which she had worn before. On her bosom she had a real Elderflower,

and in her yellow waving hair a wreath of the flowers; her eyes were so

large and blue that it was a pleasure to look at them; she kissed the

boy, and now they were of the same age and felt alike.

Hand in hand they went out of the bower, and they were standing in the

beautiful garden of their home. Near the green lawn papa's walking-stick

was tied, and for the little ones it seemed to be endowed with life; for

as soon as they got astride it, the round polished knob was turned into

a magnificent neighing head, a long black mane fluttered in the breeze,

and four slender yet strong legs shot out. The animal was strong and

handsome, and away they went at full gallop round the lawn.

“Huzza! Now we are riding miles off,” said the boy. “We are riding away

to the castle where we were last year!”

And on they rode round the grass-plot; and the little maiden, who, we

know, was no one else but old Nanny, kept on crying out, “Now we are in

the country! Don't you see the farm-house yonder? And there is an Elder

Tree standing beside it; and the cock is scraping away the earth for the

hens, look, how he struts! And now we are close to the church. It lies

high upon the hill, between the large oak-trees, one of which is half

decayed. And now we are by the smithy, where the fire is blazing, and

where the half-naked men are banging with their hammers till the sparks

fly about. Away! away! To the beautiful country-seat!”

And all that the little maiden, who sat behind on the stick, spoke of,

flew by in reality. The boy saw it all, and yet they were only going

round the grass-plot. Then they played in a side avenue, and marked out

a little garden on the earth; and they took Elder-blossoms from their

hair, planted them, and they grew just like those the old people planted

when they were children, as related before. They went hand in hand, as

the old people had done when they were children; but not to the Round

Tower, or to Friedericksberg; no, the little damsel wound her arms round

the boy, and then they flew far away through all Denmark. And spring

came, and summer; and then it was autumn, and then winter; and a

thousand pictures were reflected in the eye and in the heart of the boy;

and the little girl always sang to him, “This you will never forget.”

And during their whole flight the Elder Tree smelt so sweet and odorous;

he remarked the roses and the fresh beeches, but the Elder Tree had

a more wondrous fragrance, for its flowers hung on the breast of the

little maiden; and there, too, did he often lay his head during the

flight.

“It is lovely here in spring!” said the young maiden. And they stood in

a beech-wood that had just put on its first green, where the woodroof [*]

at their feet sent forth its fragrance, and the pale-red anemony looked

so pretty among the verdure. “Oh, would it were always spring in the

sweetly-smelling Danish beech-forests!”

* Asperula odorata.

“It is lovely here in summer!” said she. And she flew past old castles

of by-gone days of chivalry, where the red walls and the embattled

gables were mirrored in the canal, where the swans were swimming, and

peered up into the old cool avenues. In the fields the corn was waving

like the sea; in the ditches red and yellow flowers were growing; while

wild-drone flowers, and blooming convolvuluses were creeping in the

hedges; and towards evening the moon rose round and large, and the

haycocks in the meadows smelt so sweetly. “This one never forgets!”

“It is lovely here in autumn!” said the little maiden. And suddenly the

atmosphere grew as blue again as before; the forest grew red, and green,

and yellow-colored. The dogs came leaping along, and whole flocks of

wild-fowl flew over the cairn, where blackberry-bushes were hanging

round the old stones. The sea was dark blue, covered with ships full

of white sails; and in the barn old women, maidens, and children were

sitting picking hops into a large cask; the young sang songs, but the

old told fairy tales of mountain-sprites and soothsayers. Nothing could

be more charming.

“It is delightful here in winter!” said the little maiden. And all the

trees were covered with hoar-frost; they looked like white corals; the

snow crackled under foot, as if one had new boots on; and one falling

star after the other was seen in the sky. The Christmas-tree was lighted

in the room; presents were there, and good-humor reigned. In the country

the violin sounded in the room of the peasant; the newly-baked cakes

were attacked; even the poorest child said, “It is really delightful

here in winter!”

Yes, it was delightful; and the little maiden showed the boy everything;

and the Elder Tree still was fragrant, and the red flag, with the white

cross, was still waving: the flag under which the old seaman in the New

Booths had sailed. And the boy grew up to be a lad, and was to go forth

in the wide world-far, far away to warm lands, where the coffee-tree

grows; but at his departure the little maiden took an Elder-blossom from

her bosom, and gave it him to keep; and it was placed between the leaves

of his Prayer-Book; and when in foreign lands he opened the book, it

was always at the place where the keepsake-flower lay; and the more he

looked at it, the fresher it became; he felt as it were, the fragrance

of the Danish groves; and from among the leaves of the flowers he could

distinctly see the little maiden, peeping forth with her bright blue

eyes--and then she whispered, “It is delightful here in Spring, Summer,

Autumn, and Winter”; and a hundred visions glided before his mind.

Thus passed many years, and he was now an old man, and sat with his old

wife under the blooming tree. They held each other by the hand, as the

old grand-father and grand-mother yonder in the New Booths did, and they

talked exactly like them of old times, and of the fiftieth anniversary

of their wedding. The little maiden, with the blue eyes, and with

Elder-blossoms in her hair, sat in the tree, nodded to both of them,

and said, “To-day is the fiftieth anniversary!” And then she took two

flowers out of her hair, and kissed them. First, they shone like silver,

then like gold; and when they laid them on the heads of the old people,

each flower became a golden crown. So there they both sat, like a king

and a queen, under the fragrant tree, that looked exactly like an elder:

the old man told his wife the story of “Old Nanny,” as it had been told

him when a boy. And it seemed to both of them it contained much that

resembled their own history; and those parts that were like it pleased

them best.

“Thus it is,” said the little maiden in the tree, “some call me 'Old

Nanny,' others a 'Dryad,' but, in reality, my name is 'Remembrance';

'tis I who sit in the tree that grows and grows! I can remember; I can

tell things! Let me see if you have my flower still?”

And the old man opened his Prayer-Book. There lay the Elder-blossom,

as fresh as if it had been placed there but a short time before; and

Remembrance nodded, and the old people, decked with crowns of gold, sat

in the flush of the evening sun. They closed their eyes, and--and--!

Yes, that's the end of the story!

The little boy lay in his bed; he did not know if he had dreamed or

not, or if he had been listening while someone told him the story. The

tea-pot was standing on the table, but no Elder Tree was growing out

of it! And the old man, who had been talking, was just on the point of

going out at the door, and he did go.

“How splendid that was!” said the little boy. “Mother, I have been to

warm countries.”

“So I should think,” said his mother. “When one has drunk two good

cupfuls of Elder-flower tea, 'tis likely enough one goes into warm

climates”; and she tucked him up nicely, least he should take cold. “You

have had a good sleep while I have been sitting here, and arguing with

him whether it was a story or a fairy tale.”

“And where is old Nanny?” asked the little boy.

“In the tea-pot,” said his mother; “and there she may remain.”

THE BELL

People said “The Evening Bell is sounding, the sun is setting.” For a

strange wondrous tone was heard in the narrow streets of a large town.

It was like the sound of a church-bell: but it was only heard for a

moment, for the rolling of the carriages and the voices of the multitude

made too great a noise.

Those persons who were walking outside the town, where the houses were

farther apart, with gardens or little fields between them, could see

the evening sky still better, and heard the sound of the bell much

more distinctly. It was as if the tones came from a church in the still

forest; people looked thitherward, and felt their minds attuned most

solemnly.

A long time passed, and people said to each other--“I wonder if there

is a church out in the wood? The bell has a tone that is wondrous sweet;

let us stroll thither, and examine the matter nearer.” And the rich

people drove out, and the poor walked, but the way seemed strangely

long to them; and when they came to a clump of willows which grew on the

skirts of the forest, they sat down, and looked up at the long

branches, and fancied they were now in the depth of the green wood. The

confectioner of the town came out, and set up his booth there; and soon

after came another confectioner, who hung a bell over his stand, as

a sign or ornament, but it had no clapper, and it was tarred over to

preserve it from the rain. When all the people returned home, they said

it had been very romantic, and that it was quite a different sort of

thing to a pic-nic or tea-party. There were three persons who asserted

they had penetrated to the end of the forest, and that they had always

heard the wonderful sounds of the bell, but it had seemed to them as if

it had come from the town. One wrote a whole poem about it, and said the

bell sounded like the voice of a mother to a good dear child, and

that no melody was sweeter than the tones of the bell. The king of the

country was also observant of it, and vowed that he who could discover

whence the sounds proceeded, should have the title of “Universal

Bell-ringer,” even if it were not really a bell.

Many persons now went to the wood, for the sake of getting the place,

but one only returned with a sort of explanation; for nobody went far

enough, that one not further than the others. However, he said that

the sound proceeded from a very large owl, in a hollow tree; a sort of

learned owl, that continually knocked its head against the branches. But

whether the sound came from his head or from the hollow tree, that no

one could say with certainty. So now he got the place of “Universal

Bell-ringer,” and wrote yearly a short treatise “On the Owl”; but

everybody was just as wise as before.

It was the day of confirmation. The clergyman had spoken so touchingly,

the children who were confirmed had been greatly moved; it was

an eventful day for them; from children they become all at once

grown-up-persons; it was as if their infant souls were now to fly all

at once into persons with more understanding. The sun was shining

gloriously; the children that had been confirmed went out of the town;

and from the wood was borne towards them the sounds of the unknown bell

with wonderful distinctness. They all immediately felt a wish to go

thither; all except three. One of them had to go home to try on a

ball-dress; for it was just the dress and the ball which had caused her

to be confirmed this time, for otherwise she would not have come;

the other was a poor boy, who had borrowed his coat and boots to be

confirmed in from the innkeeper's son, and he was to give them back by

a certain hour; the third said that he never went to a strange place

if his parents were not with him--that he had always been a good boy

hitherto, and would still be so now that he was confirmed, and that one

ought not to laugh at him for it: the others, however, did make fun of

him, after all.

There were three, therefore, that did not go; the others hastened on.

The sun shone, the birds sang, and the children sang too, and each held

the other by the hand; for as yet they had none of them any high office,

and were all of equal rank in the eye of God.

But two of the youngest soon grew tired, and both returned to town; two

little girls sat down, and twined garlands, so they did not go either;

and when the others reached the willow-tree, where the confectioner was,

they said, “Now we are there! In reality the bell does not exist; it is

only a fancy that people have taken into their heads!”

At the same moment the bell sounded deep in the wood, so clear and

solemnly that five or six determined to penetrate somewhat further. It

was so thick, and the foliage so dense, that it was quite fatiguing

to proceed. Woodroof and anemonies grew almost too high; blooming

convolvuluses and blackberry-bushes hung in long garlands from tree to

tree, where the nightingale sang and the sunbeams were playing: it was

very beautiful, but it was no place for girls to go; their clothes would

get so torn. Large blocks of stone lay there, overgrown with moss of

every color; the fresh spring bubbled forth, and made a strange gurgling

sound.

“That surely cannot be the bell,” said one of the children, lying down

and listening. “This must be looked to.” So he remained, and let the

others go on without him.

They afterwards came to a little house, made of branches and the bark of

trees; a large wild apple-tree bent over it, as if it would shower down

all its blessings on the roof, where roses were blooming. The long stems

twined round the gable, on which there hung a small bell.

Was it that which people had heard? Yes, everybody was unanimous on the

subject, except one, who said that the bell was too small and too fine

to be heard at so great a distance, and besides it was very different

tones to those that could move a human heart in such a manner. It was a

king's son who spoke; whereon the others said, “Such people always want

to be wiser than everybody else.”

They now let him go on alone; and as he went, his breast was filled more

and more with the forest solitude; but he still heard the little bell

with which the others were so satisfied, and now and then, when the

wind blew, he could also hear the people singing who were sitting at tea

where the confectioner had his tent; but the deep sound of the bell rose

louder; it was almost as if an organ were accompanying it, and the tones

came from the left hand, the side where the heart is placed. A rustling

was heard in the bushes, and a little boy stood before the King's Son, a

boy in wooden shoes, and with so short a jacket that one could see what

long wrists he had. Both knew each other: the boy was that one among

the children who could not come because he had to go home and return his

jacket and boots to the innkeeper's son. This he had done, and was now

going on in wooden shoes and in his humble dress, for the bell sounded

with so deep a tone, and with such strange power, that proceed he must.

“Why, then, we can go together,” said the King's Son. But the poor

child that had been confirmed was quite ashamed; he looked at his wooden

shoes, pulled at the short sleeves of his jacket, and said that he was

afraid he could not walk so fast; besides, he thought that the bell must

be looked for to the right; for that was the place where all sorts of

beautiful things were to be found.

“But there we shall not meet,” said the King's Son, nodding at the same

time to the poor boy, who went into the darkest, thickest part of the

wood, where thorns tore his humble dress, and scratched his face and

hands and feet till they bled. The King's Son got some scratches too;

but the sun shone on his path, and it is him that we will follow, for he

was an excellent and resolute youth.

“I must and will find the bell,” said he, “even if I am obliged to go to

the end of the world.”

The ugly apes sat upon the trees, and grinned. “Shall we thrash him?”

said they. “Shall we thrash him? He is the son of a king!”

But on he went, without being disheartened, deeper and deeper into the

wood, where the most wonderful flowers were growing. There stood white

lilies with blood-red stamina, skyblue tulips, which shone as they waved

in the winds, and apple-trees, the apples of which looked exactly like

large soapbubbles: so only think how the trees must have sparkled in the

sunshine! Around the nicest green meads, where the deer were playing in

the grass, grew magnificent oaks and beeches; and if the bark of one of

the trees was cracked, there grass and long creeping plants grew in

the crevices. And there were large calm lakes there too, in which white

swans were swimming, and beat the air with their wings. The King's Son

often stood still and listened. He thought the bell sounded from the

depths of these still lakes; but then he remarked again that the tone

proceeded not from there, but farther off, from out the depths of the

forest.

The sun now set: the atmosphere glowed like fire. It was still in the

woods, so very still; and he fell on his knees, sung his evening hymn,

and said: “I cannot find what I seek; the sun is going down, and night

is coming--the dark, dark night. Yet perhaps I may be able once more

to see the round red sun before he entirely disappears. I will climb up

yonder rock.”

And he seized hold of the creeping-plants, and the roots of

trees--climbed up the moist stones where the water-snakes were writhing

and the toads were croaking--and he gained the summit before the sun

had quite gone down. How magnificent was the sight from this height! The

sea--the great, the glorious sea, that dashed its long waves against the

coast--was stretched out before him. And yonder, where sea and sky meet,

stood the sun, like a large shining altar, all melted together in the

most glowing colors. And the wood and the sea sang a song of rejoicing,

and his heart sang with the rest: all nature was a vast holy church,

in which the trees and the buoyant clouds were the pillars, flowers and

grass the velvet carpeting, and heaven itself the large cupola. The red

colors above faded away as the sun vanished, but a million stars were

lighted, a million lamps shone; and the King's Son spread out his arms

towards heaven, and wood, and sea; when at the same moment, coming by

a path to the right, appeared, in his wooden shoes and jacket, the poor

boy who had been confirmed with him. He had followed his own path, and

had reached the spot just as soon as the son of the king had done. They

ran towards each other, and stood together hand in hand in the vast

church of nature and of poetry, while over them sounded the invisible

holy bell: blessed spirits floated around them, and lifted up their

voices in a rejoicing hallelujah!

THE OLD HOUSE

In the street, up there, was an old, a very old house--it was almost

three hundred years old, for that might be known by reading the great

beam on which the date of the year was carved: together with tulips and

hop-binds there were whole verses spelled as in former times, and over

every window was a distorted face cut out in the beam. The one story

stood forward a great way over the other; and directly under the eaves

was a leaden spout with a dragon's head; the rain-water should have run

out of the mouth, but it ran out of the belly, for there was a hole in

the spout.