A Good Humor

Hans Christian Andersen

From my father I have inherited that most worthy of bequests-a cheerful temper. And who

was my father? Well, that really has nothing to do with a good humor. He was thrifty and

lively, fat and round; in fact, his exterior and interior were both at variance with his office.

And what was his office, his position in the community? Why, if the answer to that

question were written and printed at the very beginning of a book, most people would lay

the book down as soon as they opened it, saying, "There is something dismal about it. I

don't want anything like this."

And yet my father was neither a hangman nor a headsman. On the contrary, his office

for that face said, "Never mind, it's going to be much better than you think."

You see, then, that from him I have my good humor and also the habit of frequently

visiting the churchyard; and that is rather amusing, if one goes there in a cheerful temper.

Oh, yes, I also subscribe to the Advertiser, just as he used to do.

I am not exactly young, and I have neither wife, nor children, nor library to divert me. But,

as I have told you, I read the Advertiser - that's all I need; it was my father's favorite

newspaper, and it's mine, too. It is a most useful paper, and contains everything a person

ought to know.

From it I learn who is preaching in the churches and who preaches in the new books; I

know where I may obtain houses, servants, clothes, and food; I know who is selling out

Everyone is free, of course, to read the Advertiser, but if anybody would like to share my

walks in the churchyard, let him join my someday when the sun in (NB = is) shining and

the trees are green.

Then let us ramble together among the old graves; each one is like a closed book with the

cover toward you, so you can read the title that tells you what the book contains and yet

says nothing at all. But from my father, and through my own experiences, I know all about

it. I have written it all in a book for my own especial benefit and instruction; there is

something written about most of them.

Now we are in the churchyard.

Behind this white-painted trellis, where once grew a rosebush-it is dead now, but a stray

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play intended for amusement. The audience was sure to be wrong, sometimes applauding

burn!" And when he turned around to see what kind of people were there, he found them

laughing in the wrong places. All this annoyed and pained him. He was a miserable man,

and now he is in his grave.

Here rests, on the other hand, a very fortunate man-I mean to say he was a man of

extremely noble birth. In fact, that constituted his good fortune, for had he not been

highborn he would never have amounted to anything. But, then, everything is so wisely

arranged, and that is a pleasure to know. His coats were embroidered in front and in back,

very much like a fine, embroidered bellpull in a room, for behind the handsome, gaudy

bellpull is always a good, strong, plain cord that really does all the work. And this man had

his good, stout cord behind him, which now does the work behind a new embroidered

bellpull. That's the way it is; everything is so wisely arranged that it is very easy to keep

one's good humor.

can enjoy. For suppose this was an idea that could be explained successfully only at

breakfast time; and everyone knows that ghosts can walk only at midnight. And if this

ghost should appear among his friends at that appointed hour, his idea would be an utter

failure. No one would laugh, for jesting comes unseasonably at midnight, and so the

unhappy ghost would return to the grave with his great idea. It is really very sad.

Here lies a lady who was a miser. During her lifetime she often arose at night and mewed,

so that the neighbors would imagine she kept a cat, which she was too stingy to do.

And here is a young lady of good family. She always insisted upon singing in society, and

when she sang, "Mi manca la voce!" that was the only truth she ever spoke.

Here rests another young girl, of a very different nature. Alas! When the bird of the heart

house came home from school and announced, "This is how I heard it--," his news,

whatever it might be, was received without question, because he belonged to the family.

And certain it is that if the cock of that family had decided to crow at midnight, the whole

family would have insisted that morning had dawned, even if the watchman and all the

clocks of the town announced it was midnight.

The great Goethe concluded his Faust with the words, "It may be continued"; and thus will

I conclude our walk in the churchyard.

I go there often, for whenever one of my friends or unfriends, gives me to understand that

he wishes to be as one dead to me, I go there, find a spot of green turf, and dedicate it to

You shouldn't be upset if your friends do something foolish; bury them at once, keep your

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