GODFATHER could tell stories， ever so many and ever so long； he could cut out paper figures and draw pic－tures，and when it came near Christmas， he would bringout a copy－book， with clean white pages； on this he pastedpictures， taken out of books and newspapers ；if he had notenough for the story he wished to tell， he drew them him－self． WhenI was little， Igot several such picture－books，but the loveliest of them all was the one from "the memo－rable year when Copenhagen got gas in place of the old oil－lamps"， and that was setdown on the first page．

"Great care must be taken of this book，" said Fatherand Mother；"it must only be brought out on grand occa－sions．"

Yet Godfather had written on the cover：

Though the book be torn， it is hardly a crime；

Other young friends have done worse in their time．

Most delightful it was when Godfather himself showedthe book， read the verses and the other inscriptions， andtold so many things besides； then the story became a realstory．

On the first page there was a picture cut out of "TheFlying Post"， in which one saw Copenhagen with its RoundTower， and Our Lady's Church； to the left of this waspasted an old lantern， on which was written"Train－oil"， tothe right was a chandelier—on it was written "Gas"．"See，that is the placard，" said Godfather；"that is the prologueto the story you are going to hear． It could also be given asa whole plny， if one could have acted it：' Train－oil andGas， or the Life and Doings of Copenhagen．' That is avery good title！ At the foot of the page there is still anotherlittle picture； it is not so easy to understand， soI shall ex－plain it． That is a Death－horse．He ought to have come on－ly at the end of the book， but he has run on ahead to say，that neither the beginning， the middle， northe end is anygood； he could have done it better himself—if he could have done it at all． The Death－horse， I must tell you， stands during the day tethered to the newspaper；but in the evening he slips out and posts himself outside the po－ et's door and neighs， so that the man inside may die in－ stantly； but he does not die if there is any real life inhim． The Death-horse is nearly always a poor creature who cannot understand himself， and cannot get a liveli－ hood； he must get air and food by going about and neigh－ing ． Iam convinced that he thinks nothing of Godfather's picture－book， but for all that it may well be worth the pa－ per it is written on．

"Now， that is the first page of the book； that is the placard．

" It was just the last evening on which the old oil－ lamps were lighted；the town had got gas ，and it shone so that theold lamps seemed to be quite lost in it．

" Iwas in the street myself that evening，" said God－ father．"The people walked up and down to look at the old and the new lighting． There were many people，and twice as many legs as heads． The watchmen stood about gloomily； they did not know when they might be dis－ missed， like the lamps ； these themselves thought so farback—they dared not think forward． They remembered so much from the quiet evenings and the dark nights． I leaned up against a lamp-post，"said Godfather；"there was a sputtering in the oil and the wick； I could hear what the lamp said， and you shall also hear it．