there was a large house painted in many gay colours standing close to the castle and thecanal， upon which latter were to be seen many ships laden with apples and pottery. Thewindows of the house were broader at the bottom than at the top， and when the sparrowslooked through them， every room appeared to them like a tulip with the brightest colours andshades. But in the middle of the tulip stood white men， made of marble; a few were ofplaster; still， looked at with sparrows' eyes， that comes to the same thing. Up on the roofstood a metal chariot drawn by metal horses， and the goddess of Victory， also of metal，was driving. It was Thorwaldsen's Museum.
“How it shines! how it shines!” said the maiden sparrow. “I suppose that is 'the beautiful.'Peep! But here it is larger than a peacock.” She still remembered what in her childhood's daysher mother had looked upon as the GREatest among the beautiful. She flew down into thecourtyard： there everything was extremely fine. Palms and branches were painted on thewalls， and in the middle of the court stood a great blooming rose-tree spreading out its freshboughs， covered with roses， over a grave. Thither flew the maiden sparrow， for she sawseveral of her own kind there. A “peep” and three foot-scrapings—in this way she had oftengreeted throughout the year， and no one here had responded， for those who are onceparted do not meet every day; and so this greeting had become a habit with her. But to-daytwo old sparrows and a young one answered with a “peep” and the thrice-repeated scrape withthe left foot.
“Ah! Good-day! good-day!” they were two old ones from the nest and a little one of thefamily. “Do we meet here? It's a grand place， but there's not much to eat. This is 'thebeautiful.' Peep!”
Many people came out of the side rooms where the beautiful marble statues stood andapproached the grave where lay the GREat master who had created these works of art. Allstood with enraptured faces round Thorwaldsen's grave， and a few picked up the fallen rose-leaves and preserved them. They had come from afar： one from mighty England， othersfrom Germany and France. The fairest of the ladies plucked one of the roses and hid it in herbosom. Then the sparrows thought that the roses reigned here， and that the house had beenbuilt for their sake. That appeared to them to be really too much， but since all the peopleshowed their love for the roses， they did not wish to be behindhand. “Peep!” they saidsweeping the ground with their tails， and blinking with one eye at the roses， they had notlooked at them long before they were convinced that they were their old neighbours. And sothey really were. The painter who had drawn the rose-bush near the ruined house， hadafterwards obtained permission to dig it up， and had given it to the architect， for finerroses had never been seen. The architect had planted it upon Thorwaldsen's grave， where itbloomed as an emblem of 'the beautiful' and yielded fragrant red rose-leaves to be carried asmementoes to distant lands.
“Have you obtained an appointment here in the city?” asked the sparrows. The rosesnodded; they recognized their GREy neighbours and were pleased to see them again. “Howglorious it is to live and to bloom， to see old friends again， and happy faces every day. It is asif every day were a festival.” “Peep!” said the sparrows. “Yes， they are really our oldneighbours; we remember their origin near the pond. Peep! how they have got on. Yes，some succeed while they are asleep. Ah! there's a faded leaf; I can see that quite plainly.” Andthey pecked at it till it fell off. But the tree stood there fresher and greener than ever; theroses bloomed in the sunshine on Thorwaldsen's grave and became associated with hisimmortal name.