the rose trees—one was named Snow-white, and the other Rosy-red, and they were as pious, kind, and industrious as any two children ever were. Snow-white was quieter and more gentle than her sister, who preferred skipping over the fields, seeking flowers, and catching summer birds; while Snow-white remained at home with her mother, either assisting her in her work, or reading aloud to her when that was done. The two children had the greatest love for each other; they were always seen hand-in-hand, and if Snow-white said to her sister, "We will never separate!" the other replied, "Not while we live!" the mother adding, "what one has, let her always share with the other." They often ran together in the woods, and gathered ripe berries; but not a single animal would have done them an injury—on the contrary, they all felt the greatest regard for the young creatures: the hare came and ate parsley from their hands, the deer grazed by their side, the stag sprang past them unconcerned, the birds likewise stirred not from the branch, but sang in the most perfect security. No mischance befell them; if benighted in the wood, they laid themselves in the moss to repose, and slept until the morning, and their mother was satisfied they were safe, and felt no fear on their account. Once, when they had passed the night in the wood, and the bright sunrise awoke them, they saw a beautiful child, in a snow-white dress, which shone like diamonds, sitting near the place where they had rested. She stood up when they opened their eyes, and looked kindly at them, but said not a word, and passed from their sight into the wood. When the children looked around, they saw that they had slept on the edge of a high cliff, and would certainly have fallen over, if they had proceeded two steps farther in the darkness. Their mother told them the beautiful child must have been the angel who watches over good children. Snow-white and Rosy-red kept their mother's cottage so clean, that it was a pleasure only to look in. In the summer Rosy-red looked after the house, and placed by her mother's bed every morning, before she awoke, a bouquet, in which was a rose from each of the rose trees. In the winter Snow-white lighted the fire, and put the kettle on, after scouring it, so that it resembled gold in brightness. In the evening, when the snowflakes fell, her mother bade her bolt the door, and then seating themselves by the hearth, the good widow read aloud to them from a large book, while the girls spun; near them lay a lamb, and behind was a white pigeon upon a perch, with its head tucked under its wing.

Rosy-red uttered a cry and sprang back, the lamb bleated, the dove fluttered her wings, and Snow-white hid herself behind her mother's bed. The bear began to speak, and said, "Fear not, I will do you no harm; I am half frozen, and only wish to warm myself a little at your fire." "Poor bear," returned the mother, "come and lie by the fire, only take care that your hair does not burn." Then calling Snow-white and Rosy-red, she bade them come out, "The bear," she said, "was kind, and would do them no harm." So they obeyed, and by degrees the lamb and the dove approached also, and had no fear. "Children," said the bear, "knock a little of the snow out of my coat." So they got the broom, and swept the bear's coat quite clean. After which, he stretched himself out before the fire and amused himself with a little growl, just to prove he was happy and comfortable. Before long, they were all quite good friends, and the children began to sport with their unexpected guest, tugging at his thick fur, or putting their feet on his back, or rolling him over and over. Then they took a thin hazel twig, with which they struck his thick fur, and when he growled, they laughed. The bear very kindly allowed them to amuse themselves thus, only sometimes, when it proceeded a little too far, he called out, "Children, children, leave me an inch of life.

"Snow-white and Rosy-red,
Strike not your lover dead."

When night came, and all prepared to go to bed, the widow said to the bear, "You can stay here, and lie on the hearth if you like, you will then be sheltered from the cold and the bad weather." The offer was accepted, but in the morning, as soon as day broke in the east, the two children let him out, and he trotted over the snow back into the wood. From this time the bear came every evening at the same hour, laid himself by the fire, and permitted the children to amuse themselves with him, so that they became quite attached to their strange playfellow, and the door was never bolted of an evening, until he had made his appearance.

When spring came, and everything around began to look green and bright, the bear said one morning to Snow-white, "I must now leave you, and I shall not be able to return for the whole summer." "Where are you then going, dear bear?" inquired Snow-white. "I must go to the woods, to protect my treasure from the bad dwarfs; in the winter, when the earth is hard frozen, they are obliged to stay underground, and cannot work their way through; but now the sun has thawed and warmed the earth, they find their way to the surface, and are ever on the watch for what they can steal, and whatever touches their hands, or reaches their caves, rarely, if ever, sees daylight again." Snow-white was very sorrowful when she took leave of the good-natured bear, and unbolted the door, that he might depart; but in passing out, he caught on a hook in the door-post, and a little of his fur being torn, Snow-white thought she saw something shine like gold through the rent; but he passed out so rapidly, that she did not feel sure what it was, and he was soon lost among the trees.

One day the mother sent her children into the wood to collect sticks; they found a large tree lying on the ground, which had been felled, and among the roots they saw something jumping and hopping, which they could not at all understand, it being sometimes hidden among the grass. When they drew nearer, they saw it was a dwarf, with an old withered face and a snow-white beard a yard long. The beard was fastened in a split in the trunk of the tree, and the little fellow was springing backwards and forwards like a dog at the end of a cord, but could not succeed in getting free. He stared at the children with his fiery red eyes, and cried out, "What are you standing there for? Can you not come and see if you can help me?" "What have you been doing, little man?" asked Rosy-red. "Silly inquisitive goose:" answered the dwarf, "I wanted to split the tree that I might chop it into sticks for the kitchen; thick logs would burn up the small portion of food we cook, for we do not swallow great mountains of provisions, as you coarse greedy folks do. I have driven in the wedge, and should soon have done what I wanted, but the tool sprang out of the split, which closed again so quickly, that my beautiful white beard was caught, and here I am detained for I cannot get away." "You silly white-faced creatures! you are laughing, are you?" Notwithstanding the little man's ill-temper, the girls gave themselves all imaginable trouble, in order to release the dwarf, but in vain—the beard was held too fast.

"I will run and call somebody else," said Rosy-red. "Idiot," replied the dwarf, "who would go and fetch more people? here are already two too many; can you not think of anything better?" "Do not be impatient," said Snow-white, "I will try and consider." Clapping her hands, as if she had found a remedy, she took out her scissors, and instantly released the dwarf by cutting off the end of his beard. Directly the dwarf felt himself free, he seized a sack filled with gold, which was hidden among the roots of the tree, and raising it, growled out, "Awkward creatures! to cut off a bit of my beautiful beard, of which I am so proud, the cuckoos may pay you for what you have done." With these words, he swung the sack over his shoulder and went away, without even casting a look upon the children.

Shortly after this the two sisters went to fish in the brook, thinking to catch some fish for dinner. As they approached the water, they saw something that looked like a large cricket jumping towards the brook as if it were going in. They ran to see what it could be, and perceived the dwarf. "Where are you going?" asked Rosy-red; "you will not surely jump into the water?" "I am not quite such a simpleton," screamed the dwarf; "do you not see that the confounded fish is pulling me in?" The little man had been sitting on the bank fishing, when unfortunately the wind had entangled his beard in the line, and as a large fish directly afterwards took the bait, the little fellow had not strength to pull it out; the fish therefore got the upper-hand, and was drawing the dwarf after it. It is true, he caught at every stalk and twig near him, but that did not help him much, he was obliged to follow all the movements of the fish, and was in danger of being drawn into the water.

The girls came up just in time; they held him fast and tried to disentangle his beard from the line, but in vain. Nothing remained but again to use the scissors, so they were taken out, and the part entangled cut off. When the dwarf saw what they were doing, he cried out in a great rage, "Is this the way you spoil my beard? Not content with shortening it before, you are now cutting it the other way, and ruining it entirely. I shall never dare to show my face to my friends. I wish you had lost your way, before you came this road." Then fetching a sack of pearls lying in the rushes, and without another word he hobbled away and vanished behind a large stone.

It happened that soon after this the poor widow sent her children to the town in order to buy thread, needles, ribbon and tape. The road lay over a heath on which large masses of rock were scattered in all directions, and the children's attention was soon drawn to a large bird hovering in the air: they observed that after flying slowly in a circle for some time, and gradually approaching nearer to the earth, it suddenly dashed down among a mass of rock; immediately a pitiable cry pierced their ears, and running hastily to the spot, they saw with horror that the eagle had seized their old acquaintance, the dwarf, and was preparing to bear him away. The children did not wait for a moment, but taking firm hold of the little man, they disputed so stoutly with the eagle for the possession of his prey, that after much rough handling on both sides, the dwarf remained in the hands of his little friends, and the eagle took to flight.

When the little man had in a degree recovered from his fright, his little thin cracked voice was heard saying, "Could you not handle me more gently? look at my little coat, you have torn and mangled it in a fine fashion, you awkward creatures!" He then took up a sack of precious stones, and slipped out of sight behind a fragment of a rock. The maidens were by this time quite accustomed to his thankless manner, so they thought nothing of it, but continued their way, executed their mother's commission, and then prepared to return to their happy home.

On their road thither, they suddenly came again upon their friend the dwarf; he had emptied out his sack of precious stones upon a clean spot, that he might number or admire them, for he did not expect that any one would be crossing the heath at so late an hour. The setting sun shone upon the bright stones, and their varying hues and brilliant rays induced the children to stop and admire them. "What are you looking at?" said the dwarf, rudely, at the same time reddening with anger; "and why do you stand there making faces?" It is likely that he might have continued in the same strain, but suddenly a loud growl was heard close to them, and a large black bear joined the party. The dwarf sprang up in the greatest terror, but was unable to reach his hiding-place, the bear was too near him; so he exclaimed in the most evident anguish, "Dear Mr. Bear, pray pardon me, I will give you all my treasure, only look at the valuable stones lying there. Grant me my life! You would not feel me between your teeth; but look at those two children, they would be tender morsels, and are as fat as quails—pray take them, good Mr. Bear, and let me go." The bear, however, was not to be moved with his words; he gave the dwarf one blow with his paw, and he lay lifeless on the ground.

In the meantime the maidens had ran away, and were making the best of their way towards their home, but they were suddenly stopped by a well-known voice, which cried, "Snow-white! Rosy-red! stop, do not be afraid. I will go with you."

The bear rapidly advanced towards them; but as he joined them, the bear-skin suddenly fell to the ground, and there stood before them a handsome man, entirely dressed in gold. "I am the son of a king," said he, "but was enchanted by the wicked dwarf lying yonder, who stole my treasure, and forced me to run about the woods in the form of a great bear, until I should be set free by his death. He has therefore only met with a well-merited punishment."

After some time, Snow-white married the prince, and Rosy-red his brother; and they divided between them the immense treasure that the dwarf had collected in his cave. The old mother passed many happy years with her children; but when she left her cottage, she carried with her the two rose-trees, and they stood before her window, and continued to bear the most beautiful red and white roses every year.