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“I'll pluck them，” piped the young sparrow， who had no feathers yet.
In the farmhouse lived a young married couple； they loved each other dearly， were industrious and active， and everything in their home looked very nice. On Sundays the young wife came down early， plucked a handful of the most beautiful roses， and put them into a glass of water， which she placed upon the cupboard.
“Now I see that it is Sunday，” said the husband， kissing his little wife. They sat down， read their hymn-book， and held each other by the hand， while the sun shone down upon the fresh roses and upon them.
“This sight is really too tedious，” said the sparrow-mother， who could see into the room from her nest； and she flew away.
the same thing happened on the following Sunday， for every Sunday fresh roses were put into the glass； but the rose-bush bloomed as beautifully as ever. The young sparrows now had feathers， and wanted very much to fly with their mother； but she would not allow it， and so they had to stay at home. In one of her flights， however it may have happened， she was caught， before she was aware of it， in a horse-hair net which some boys had attached to a tree. The horse-hair was drawn tightly round her leg—as tightly as if the latter were to be cut off； she was in GREat pain and terror. The boys came running up and seized her， and in no gentle way either.
“It's only a sparrow，” they said； they did not， however， let her go， but took her home with them， and every time she cried they hit her on the beak.
In the farmhouse was an old man who understood making soap into cakes and balls， both for shaving and washing. He was a merry old man， always wandering about. On seeing the sparrow which the boys had brought， and which they said they did not want， he asked， “Shall we make it look very pretty？”
At these words an icy shudder ran through the sparrow-mother.
Out of his box， in which were the most beautiful colours， the old man took a quantity of shining leaf-gold， while the boys had to go and fetch some white of egg， with which the sparrow was to be smeared all over； the gold was stuck on to this， and the sparrow-mother was now gilded all over. But she， trembling in every limb， did not think of the adornment. Then the soap-man tore off a small piece from the red lining of his old jacket， and cutting it so as to make it look like a cock's comb， he stuck it to the bird's head.
“Now you will see the gold-jacket fly，” said the old man， letting the sparrow go， which flew away in deadly fear， with the sun shining upon her. How she glittered！ All the sparrows， and even a crow—and an old boy he was too—were startled at the sight； but still they flew after her to learn what kind of strange bird she was.
Driven by fear and horror， she flew homeward； she was almost sinking fainting to the earth， while the flock of pursuing birds increased， some even attempting to peck at her.
“Look at her！ Look at her！” they all cried.
“Look at her！ Look at her” cried her little ones. as she approached the nest. “That is certainly a young peacock， for it glitters in all colours； it makes one's eyes ache， as mother told us. Peep！ that's 'the beautiful'.” And then they pecked at the bird with their little beaks so that it was impossible for her to get into the nest； she was so exhausted that she couldn't even say “Peep！” much less “I am your own mother！” The other birds， too， now fell upon the sparrow and plucked off feather after feather until she fell bleeding into the rose-bush.
“Poor creature！” said all the roses； “only be still， and we will hide you. Lean your little head against us.”
the sparrow spread out her wings once more， then drew them closely to her， and lay dead near the neighbouring family， the beautiful fresh roses.
“Peep！” sounded from the nest. “Where can mother be so long？ It's more than I can understand. It cannot be a trick of hers， and mean that we are now to take care of ourselves. She has left us the house as an inheritance； but to which of us is it to belong when we have families of our own？”
“Yes， it won't do for you to stay with me when I increase my household with a wife and children，” said the smallest.
“I daresay I shall have more wives and children than you，” said the second.
“But I am the eldest！” exclaimed the third. Then they all got excited； they hit out with their wings， pecked with their beaks， and flop！ one after another was thrown out of the nest. There they lay with their anger， holding their heads on one side and blinking the eye that was turned upwards. That was their way of looking foolish.
they could fly a little； by practice they learned to improve， and at last they aGREed upon a sign by which to recognise each other if they should meet in the world later on. It was to be one “Peep！” and three scratches on the ground with the left foot.
the young one who had remained behind in the nest made himself as broad as he could， for he was the proprietor. But this GREatness did not last long. In the night the red flames burst through the window and seized the roof， the dry straw blazed up high， and the whole house， together with the young sparrow， was burned. The two others， who wanted to marry， thus saved their lives by a stroke of luck.
When the sun rose again and everything looked as refreshed as if it had had a quiet sleep， there only remained of the farmhouse a few black charred beams leaning against the chimney， which was now its own master. Thick smoke still rose from the ruins， but the rose-bush stood yonder， fresh， blooming， and untouched， every flower and every twig being reflected in the clear water.
“How beautifully the roses bloom before the ruined house，” exclaimed a passer-by. “A pleasanter picture cannot be imagined. I must have that.” And the man took out of his portfolio a little book with white leaves： he was a painter， and with his pencil he drew the smoking house， the charred beams and the overhanging chimney， which bent more and more； in the foreground he put the large， blooming rose-bush， which presented a charming view. For its sake alone the whole picture had been drawn.
