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Hans Christian Andersen
The Buckwheat
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Very often, after a violent thunder-storm, a field of buckwheat
appears blackened and singed, as if a flame of fire had passed
over it. The country people say that this appearance is caused
by lightning; but I will tell you what the sparrow says, and the
sparrow heard it from an old willow-tree which grew near a field
of buckwheat, and is there still. It is a large venerable tree,
though a little crippled by age. The trunk has been split, and out
of the crevice grass and brambles grow. The tree bends forward
slightly, and the branches hang quite down to the ground just
like green hair. Corn grows in the surrounding fields, not only rye
and barley, but oats?pretty oats that, when ripe, look like a
number of little golden canary-birds sitting on a bough. The corn
has a smiling look and the heaviest and richest ears bend their
heads low as if in pious humility. Once there was also a field of
buckwheat, and this field was exactly opposite to old willow-tree.
The buckwheat did not bend like the other grain, but erected its
head proudly and stiffly on the stem. ?I am as valuable as any
other corn,? said he, ?and I am much handsomer; my flowers are as
beautiful as the bloom of the apple blossom, and it is a pleasure to
look at us. Do you know of anything prettier than we are, you old

And the willow-tree nodded his head, as if he would say, ?Indeed
I do.?

But the buckwheat spread itself out with pride, and said, ?Stupid
tree; he is so old that grass grows out of his body.?

There arose a very terrible storm. All the field-flowers folded their
leaves together, or bowed their little heads, while the storm passed
over them, but the buckwheat stood erect in its pride. ?Bend your
head as we do,? said the flowers.

?I have no occasion to do so,? replied the buckwheat.

?Bend your head as we do,? cried the ears of corn; ?the angel of
the storm is coming; his wings spread from the sky above to the earth
beneath. He will strike you down before you can cry for mercy.?

?But I will not bend my head,? said the buckwheat.

?Close your flowers and bend your leaves,? said the old willow-
tree. ?Do not look at the lightning when the cloud bursts; even men
cannot do that. In a flash of lightning heaven opens, and we can look
in; but the sight will strike even human beings blind. What then must
happen to us, who only grow out of the earth, and are so inferior to
them, if we venture to do so??

?Inferior, indeed!? said the buckwheat. ?Now I intend to have a
peep into heaven.? Proudly and boldly he looked up, while the
lightning flashed across the sky as if the whole world were in flames.

When the dreadful storm had passed, the flowers and the corn
raised their drooping heads in the pure still air, refreshed by the rain,
but the buckwheat lay like a weed in the field, burnt to blackness by
the lightning. The branches of the old willow-tree rustled in the wind,
and large water-drops fell from his green leaves as if the old willow
were weeping. Then the sparrows asked why he was weeping, when
all around him seemed so cheerful. ?See,? they said, ?how the sun
shines, and the clouds float in the blue sky. Do you not smell the sweet
perfume from flower and bush? Wherefore do you weep, old willow-tree??
Then the willow told them of the haughty pride of the buckwheat, and
of the punishment which followed in consequence.

This is the story told me by the sparrows one evening when I
begged them to relate some tale to me.

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Read by: Mark Eckardt, Allison Karic, Jeff Kiok, and Ellie Wen

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