The Windmill

The smoke rose from the embers until the wind carried it away.

Whatever had been alive in the Mill still remained; nothing happened to any of them; indeed, they gained by it.

The Miller's family - one soul, may thoughts, and yet only one thought - got a new, a beautiful mill, a mill they could be very proud of. It looked exactly like the old one, and people said, "Why, there's the Mill on the hill, a proud sight to see!"

But this Mill was better arranged, much more up to date than the other one, for there is always some progress. The old timber, which had become damp and worm-eaten, now was dust and ashes. The body of the Mill did not actually rise out of the dust, as it had believed it would do; it had taken the thought literally, and not everything is supposed to be taken literally.