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.