III. THE WATCHMAN'S ADVENTURE

"Why, here's a pair of galoshes ! " said the night watchman. "They
must belong to the lieutenant who lives up there. They are lying close
to the gate ! "

The honest man would gladly have rung the bell and left the galoshes,
for there was still a light to be seen in the house, but he did not like to
awaken the other people in the house, and so he let it be.

" It must be very warm to have a pair of these things on ! " he said.
"How soft the leather is!" He put them on and they fitted him exactly.
"What a funny world this is ! Now there 's the lieutenant, he might lie
in his warm bed, but do you think he does? No, he will keep pacing up
and down the room. Ah, he is a happy man ! He has neither wife nor
youngsters! Every evening he goes out to some party. I only wish I
were he, then I should be a happy man ! "

The moment he uttered this wish the magic power of the galoshes he
had put on took effect; the watchman passed over into the lieutenant's
body and mind. There he stood, up in the room, holding between his
fingers a small rose-colored paper, on which was a poem, written by the
lieutenant himself; for who has not, at some time or other in his life, been
in the mood to write poetry, and if you then write down your thoughts,
then vou have the verses. On this paper was written : —

WERE I BUT RICH!

Were I but rich I This was my constant prayer
When scarce an ell in length — without a care.
Were I but rich, a captain I would be,
With saber, pkime, and coat so brave to see.
Then came the day when fortune smiled on me:
A captain was I — but a poor man still !
For such was heaven's will.

THE WATCHMAN SAT DOWN AGAIN AND BEGAN NODDING. HE HAD STILL THE
GALOSHES ON HIS FEET.

THE GALOSHES OF FORTUNE 63

In youth's first flash I sat at eventide,
A sweetheart maid ot seven by my side;
For I had many fairy tales to tell,
And legends rare ; but as for wealth — ah, well I
She cared not but for elf or goblin's spell.
Then was I rich, but not — heaven knows I — in gold.
Or silver coins untokl.

Were I but rich is still my prayer to heaven.
Though now grown tall, I love the maid of seven,
So good is she, so sweet, so fair to see.
Would that she knew my heart's wild fantasy !
Would that she, as of yore, could care for me I
But I am poor, and so my lips are sealed.
My love is unrevealed.

Were I but rich in comtort and repose,
My pain I would not to the world disclose.
If you, my love, can understand, then read
This as a mem'ry of the past. Yet heed I
'T were best, perhaps, your heart were hard indeed !
I 'm poor, alas I my future dark and drear.
But may God bless you, dear I

Yes, these are the kind of verses one writes when one is in love, but
a sensible man does not let them get into print. Lieutenant, love, and
poverty form a triangle, or perhaps, rather, the one half of the broken die
of fortune. The lieutenant himself felt this keenly, and therefore leaned
his head against the window frame and sighed deeply.

" The poor watchman in the street is far happier than I ! He does
not know what I call privation ! He has a home, a wife, and children,
who weep with him in his sorrows and rejoice with him in his joys ! Oh,
I should be happier than I am, if I could change places with him, for he
is much happier than I am ! "

At the same moment the watchman became again a watchman, for it
was through the galoshes of fortune that he had become the lieutenant,
but then, as we have just heard, he felt still less contented, and preferred
to be what he really was. So the watchman was a watchman once more.

"It was a terrible dream, but funny enough!" he said. "I thought I
was the lieutenant up there, and I did not like it at all. I missed the
wife and the youngsters, who are always ready to hug me to death!"

He sat down again and began nodding; he could not quite get rid of
the dream, and he still had the galoshes on his feet. Just then a falling
star shot across the heavens.

"There it goes!" he said, "but there are plenty more. I should like
to have a look at those little things a little nearer, especially the moon, for
she is not likely to slip through one's fingers. The student for whom my

64 THE GALOSHES OF FORTUNE

wife does the rough washing, says that when we die we fly from one
planet to the other. That 's a story, but it would be great fun, if it were
true. I wish I could just take a little leap up there, and my body could
remain here on the steps! "

There are certain things in the world one has to be careful about say-
ing, but one ought to be still more careful if one has got the galoshes of
fortune on one's feet. Just listen what happened to the watchman.

As far as we human beings are concerned, nearly all of us know the
great speed which can be obtained by steam ; we see it on the railways and
on the steamers crossing the seas. Yet the speed thus obtained is like the
pace of the sloth or the snail compared with the rapidity with which light
travels ; it flies nineteen million times faster than the best race-horse. And
yet electricity is still more rapid. Death is an electric shock which we
receive in the heart, and on the wings of electricity the liberated soul flies
away. A ray of sunlight takes eight minutes and some seconds for its
journey over ninety-five millions of miles ; with the express speed of elec-
tricity a soul needs some minutes less to do the same journey. The
distance between the planets is no greater for the soul than the distance
between the houses of friends in the same town, even if they are quite
close to one another. But this electric shock to the heart costs us the use
of our body here below, unless, like the watchman, we happen to have
the galoshes of fortune on our feet.

In a few seconds the watchman had traversed the distance of two hun-
dred and fifty thousand miles to the moon, which, as we know, is of a
much lighter substance than our earth, and as soft as new-fallen snow, as
we might say. He found himself on one of the numerous circular
mountains which we know from Dr. Madeer's large map of the moon.
I suppose you have seen this .? Inside the ring the mountain formed a
caldron with steep sides, about five miles deep ; at the bottom of the
caldron lay a town, which had the same appearance as the white of an
egg poured into a glass of water, with towers, and cupolas, and galleries,
like waving sails, all transparent and floating in the thin air. Our globe
floated like a large fiery ball above his head.

There were many beings to be seen, most probably what we should
call human beings, but they looked quite difl^erent to us ; they had a
language of their own, but although no one could expect the watchman's
soul to understand it, it did so for all that.

The watchman's soul understood the language of the inhabitants of
the moon very well. They discussed about our globe, and explained
their doubts as to its being inhabited; the air there, they said, must be
too thick for any sensible dweller on the moon to live in. They con-
sidered that the moon alone was inhabited by living beings, and was,
after all, the only globe on which the ancient peoples of the planets had
ever lived.

THE GALOSHES OF FORTUNE 65

But we will have a look at Ostergade, and see how the body of the
watchman tares.

He sat lifeless on the steps; his pipe had fallen out of his hand, and his
eyes were staring up at the moon after his honest soul, which was roam-
ing about there.

"What's o'clock, watchman?" asked a passer-by. But no answer
came from the watchman, and the passer-by pulled his nose quite gently;
the body lost its balance and fell full length on the ground — the man was
dead to all appearance. The stranger, who had pulled the watchman's
nose, was greatly frightened — the watchman was dead, and dead he
remained. The matter was reported to the authorities, and early in the
morning the body was removed to the hospital.

The watchman's soul would have had anything but an easy task if it
had come back and — as in all possibility it would have done — had looked
for the body in Ostergade, but without finding anything. Most likely it
would first have inquired at the police-station, and afterward proceeded to
the office of the "Public Advertiser" to advertise for it among lost articles,
and finally to the hospital. It may, however, be some comfort to us to
know that the soul is at its best when it acts by itself; the body only makes
it stupid.

As has already been mentioned, the watchman's body was removed to
the hospital, where it was brought into the cleansing room, and the first
thing they did was, of course, to pull off the galoshes, when the soul had to
return to the body ; it made straight for it, and all at once there was life in
it. The watchman assured everybody that he had passed the most terrible
night in his life ; not if he were paid half a dollar would he go through the
same experience again, but now it was happily all over.

He was discharged the same day, but the galoshes were left at the
hospital.