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THE FLYING TRUNK
THERE was once upon a time a merchant who was so rich that he could have paved the whole street with silver coins, and even have enough over for a narrow lane; but he did not do anything of the kind. He knew how to make use of his money in quite a different way; if he paid out a shilling, he got back a dollar. That was the kind of merchant he was—and then he died.
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The son now got all this money, and began to lead a merry life; he went to masquerades every night; made paper kites out of dollar notes, and played ducks and drakes across the lakes with gold coins instead of stones, and money soon comes to an end in this way, which it did. At last he had only four pennies left, and no other clothes than a pair of slippers and an old dressing-gown. His friends no longer cared for him, as they could not very well be seen with him in the streets; but one of them, who was of a kind disposition, sent him an old trunk with the message, "Pack up." That was all very well, but he had nothing to pack, and so he sat down in the trunk.
It was a wonderful trunk! As soon as you pressed the lock, the trunk could fly. He pressed the lock, and off the trunk flew with him, up through the chimney and high above the clouds, farther and farther away. The bottom of the trunk began to creak, and he was afraid it would go to pieces. What a curious descent that would be! Heaven preserve him!
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