garden to look at the wild flowers he had planted there, and to make his own original nosegays which he had loved to do as a child.
Surrounded by the kindest and most loving friends, he was spared all suffering and discomfort at the end, for he had an illness which gradually weakened him and he simply went to sleep never to wake again. When he was dying he said very often, "How beautiful the world is! How happy I am!"
It was this spirit of Andersen's, which to the end found beauty and joy in life, that makes his stories so fresh and eternal. For though Hans Andersen died a long time ago, he still lives in his writings. In nearly all countries they are known and read. For the truly great works of men are a gift to the whole world, and belong to all countries and to all time. I think these stories of Hans Andersen's will probably live for ever, long after we are gone—perhaps so long as this world shall last.
D. P.
