Project Gutenberg's The Little Glass Man and Other Stories, by Wilhelm Hauff

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Title: The Little Glass Man and Other Stories

Author: Wilhelm Hauff

Release Date: May 7, 2014 [EBook #45606]

Language: English

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  THE CHILDREN'S
  LIBRARY

  [Illustration]

  THE
  LITTLE GLASS MAN

  [Illustration]




  [Illustration: _From a wash drawing by James Pryde_

  "FAT HEZEKIEL"]




  THE
  LITTLE GLASS MAN
  AND OTHER STORIES

  FROM THE GERMAN
  OF
  WILHELM HAUFF

  _ILLUSTRATED_

  NEW YORK: MACMILLAN & CO.
  LONDON: T. FISHER UNWIN
  1894




[Illustration]

CONTENTS


                                              PAGE
  HOW THE STORIES WERE FOUND. BY L. ECKENSTEIN   1

  THE LITTLE GLASS MAN                          15

  THE STORY OF THE CALIPH STORK                 83

  THE STORY OF LITTLE MUCK                     100

  NOSE, THE DWARF                              130




[Illustration]

HOW THE STORIES WERE FOUND

BY L. ECKENSTEIN


Fairy Queen sat in her office drinking afternoon tea. Fairy Queen,
thinking how she could please children best, had turned publisher.
She had come to London, she had taken an office up a steep flight of
stairs, and had sent out her fairies all over Europe in search of
children's books. Off they had gone in all directions, and so many
manuscripts and books had been sent in or brought back by them, that
Fairy Queen published volume after volume of the Children's Library,
and still there remained a lot of work to be done.

There she sat now thinking over the tales she had published and over
those she was planning to publish, as the clock of St. Paul's slowly
struck five. Fairy Queen poured out a last cup of tea; she finished
sorting a heap of letters which she packed away in the drawers of her
writing-table, and listened in the direction of the room next to hers.
There were steps on the stairs coming and going. Then there was a good
deal of banging about the room, and Fairy Queen's ear caught snatches
of a song.

In that room were stored books, and manuscripts, and letters and brown
paper parcels, and there by the side of the big, big waste-paper basket
of Fairy Queen's publishing firm, sat Gogul Mogul reading manuscripts.
Gogul Mogul was a long-legged creature, with a tiny head, who had come
out of Fairyland to help publish tales suitable for child readers.
He was devoted to Fairy Queen, and read through piles and piles of
manuscript with great perseverance, though he frequently groaned,
longing to be back in Fairyland.

But he was not groaning now. As Fairy Queen opened the door calling to
him, he was lightly dancing a double shuffle and waving a telegram to
the tune. At sight of her he burst into a joyous laugh.

'Her absence need not cast a shadow on us all,' he cried; 'the fairy
from Germany is on her way home. She telegraphs to me from Dover; she
will be here in time for the fairies' meeting. And having passed the
seas and crossed the sands, she found the story of the Little Glass Man
at last.'

'A good thing, a good thing,' said Fairy Queen, taking the telegram;
'as it is, I have lost all patience with her. From France, from
Ireland, from Greece, even from Russia, numbers of tales have arrived.
And from Germany, so much nearer to us, so much more literary, nothing
comes. Just as though there were not plenty of fairy tales to be found
there! But I have no doubt she has wasted so much time looking for
these special stories, just because you had set your heart on having
them.'

'Upon my word,' Gogul Mogul said. And he jumped over his toes, a feat
he was fond of performing, serenely smiling at the large blot of ink
which ornamented his forefinger.

'Of course you will meet her at the station,' said Fairy Queen; 'see
her home, and call for her again in a cab. The meeting begins at nine;
all the fairies who are in town will be there. And mind you do not keep
us waiting as you did last month!'

Her tone was severe; but Gogul Mogul went on smiling his sweetest
smile, while he muttered to himself--

   'Then skilful most, when most severely judged,
    But chance it not.'

A few hours later daylight had passed away and a bright moon looked
down into the thronged thoroughfare of Holborn, putting to shame the
yellow lights of the gas lamps and the glare of the few shop windows
that were lit up by electric light. Into side courts and up winding
alleys the moon made her way, and poured down full into a narrow
passage up which ladies' figures, bundled in ulsters and shawls, were
hurrying in twos and threes.

Under an arched doorway they disappeared. The moon could not look round
the corner, but above there was a row of arched stone windows. She
looked in at these into a long large wainscotted old hall, and there
she found those figures and knew them again.

I doubt if you would have known them. I should not myself but that I
had been helping downstairs in the cloak-room, taking hats and wraps
and ulsters, even one pair of goloshes, and mixing them up for the
surprise of seeing what lovely creatures came out from those dark
clothes. Have you ever seen a butterfly squeeze out of a chrysalis, I
wonder? Have you seen those shining creatures shake themselves free
from their dark covering, take flight, and vanish away? But those
lovely creatures whose cloaks I helped to ticket could not vanish away
from me altogether. Like the moon, I managed to find them again.

For I knew of a small window upstairs from which one could overlook the
old hall. When there were smoking concerts this window was open for
ventilation to let out the smoke; to-night it should be open for me to
peep in. So when the old lady in the cloak-room said she required my
help no longer, she thought it was time for me to go to bed; I said
'Thank you,' and went upstairs and made my way along the passages to
the small window, and sat close to it and looked down into the old hall.

Oh, the colour, the movement, the loveliness of it all! I once went
to a pantomime and saw the Transformation Scene with all the fairies.
It was very beautiful and a little like what I saw now. Only there
the fairies were all made up with painted faces, and curls which had
not grown on their heads, while here you could see at a glance that
everything was quite real. And they were so lovely, these fairies! I
made myself comfortable at the window, no one could see me from below.
Only the moon from the big window opposite stared me full in the face.
'No matter what _you_ think,' I said, nodding at her; 'don't _you_ talk
about inquisitiveness. Why there isn't a window or a cranny but you
take a peep in if you get the chance!'

Down below, at one end of the hall, there was a raised platform; on
this, in the largest of the chairs, sat Fairy Queen with a crown
on her head and a long silver train. A few other fairies, all with
long trains, sat by her, and the rest moved about in the hall. In
one corner, just below where I sat, there was a long table, on which
were set out plates with pasties and sweets and sandwiches; there
were coloured glasses also and flagons of wine. Near the table stood
Gogul Mogul greeting the fairies as they arrived and handing them
refreshments. He was dressed in green tights, his hair stood up in a
great mop. Among all those ladies he was the only gentleman; but he
knew his importance, and he looked it.

'Oh yes, she has come,' I heard him say in answer to inquiries; 'what
heart could wish for more! she is without, putting herself straight.
Did you say raspberry tart or cherry tart?' he asked, turning to a
fairy. And taking up a flagon, he quoted--

   'Here plenty's liberal horn shall pour,
    Of fruits for thee a copious shower.'

Suddenly there was a stir, the door had opened and a fairy came in
dressed in the bluest of blues. Gogul Mogul went up to her; she came
to the table and ate a sandwich; then he led her by the hand to the
upper end of the room, where Fairy Queen and the other grand fairies
rose to receive her. They talked of her long absence, then of other
things. But I was not listening; I was watching Gogul Mogul, who had
come back to the refreshment table, where, all the fairies having been
helped, he proceeded to help himself. I have seen school-boys in bun
shops, and school-girls settling down to a feast of chocolate creams;
in these I have sometimes joined myself. But never before, never since,
did I see the like of Gogul Mogul. Sandwich after sandwich, tart after
tart, he put into his mouth; there was no choosing, no hesitation, no
pause, till every bit of the food off the dishes had gone. And then--it
sounds nonsense, and no one will believe it possible who has not seen
it done--he turned up the cloth at one end of the table, then at the
other, and went on rolling and rolling it up over plates and dishes and
glasses and flagons, till there was nothing left but a small napkin,
which he squeezed into the breast-pocket slit of his tight green
clothes.

I looked up and straight at the moon, who seemed to be smiling. 'Is it
a dream,' I thought, 'is it a practical joke, or is it really a meeting
of the Women's Gossip Revival Society, as they said downstairs?'

The Blue Fairy was now sitting on the platform, all the other fairies
too had taken seats. Gogul Mogul, the wonderful Gogul Mogul, who well
deserved the title of Food Destroyer to Her Majesty, sauntered up to
the platform, where he sat down by the side of Fairy Queen.

Fairy Queen then rose and said: 'This night being the Full Moon
we have met as usual to hear what the fairies have to report about
children's books and child-readers; how the children have liked the
stories, and what they think of them. But as the Blue Fairy has just
arrived from Germany, where she has been so long, I propose to call on
her to tell us some of her adventures.'

There was a great clapping of hands at this. Gogul Mogul stood up,
bowed to the Blue Fairy, and said: 'A feast of reason and a flow of
soul!' at which there was renewed clapping of hands.

The Blue Fairy hesitated, she fingered the gold spangles of her dress,
she shook back her curls. Then she began:

'Germany is a wonderful country. It is very big as you know, and very
different in places; the parts I like best are the large forests which
extend uphill and downhill for many many miles. We all hope to go back
to Fairyland some day, but next to going there we could not do better
than settle in one of these German forests; with the squirrels playing
about, and the birds singing, and the little streams bubbling between
the moss-grown rocks, I really felt quite at home there. The folk live
in the queerest of houses, and are dressed in the queerest of clothes;
and there can be nothing funnier than the dear little children, who
come a long distance over the hills to school, walking barefoot, and
who sit down outside the schoolhouse and put on their stockings and
shoes before they go in, as if wearing shoes and stockings were part of
doing lessons. Well, I went to stay in the Black Forest first; Gogul
Mogul told me it was there I must go to hear about the Little Glass
Man. I believe he knew him as a boy when the Little Glass Man used to
visit in Fairyland. But I travelled about on coaches painted a bright
yellow, I stayed about in old-fashioned sunny village inns, I heard
about many wonderful things, but I could not find out anything about
the Little Glass Man. Had he left those parts, had people forgotten
about him?

'One afternoon I had been in a saw-mill watching the saw go up and
down through the long pine-wood trunk which slowly moved along to
meet it, to the sound of the splashing wheel outside going round and
round. Every time the saw had cut through the length of the trunk it
stopped, there was a great rush of water outside, a little bell was
set tinkling, and then the sawyer, or the saw-miller, as they call him
over there, wound the trunk back and set the saw so as to cut the next
plank, and then the whole thing was again set going. It was curious
watching the sawdust jerked up, and the huge block of timber cut
lengthwise into so many planks, and the miller going in and out over
the sawdust. I felt quite sorry when at last he stopped the little bell
without setting the saw going again, and came and stood by me.

'Then we talked about this and that, and I asked him about the Little
Glass Man; he must know so many woodmen who felled the trees and
brought the timber to the mill; had they ever met him?

'The miller was a big rough man with a stubbly beard; I don't know if
he was at all deaf, but when he spoke it was so loud that he must have
thought me dull of hearing.

'"Take my advice," he said, "if you want to know about the country go
into the town. Don't expect us to know about Little Glass Men, or other
little men; we don't care for such things. But in the town you are sure
to find all about it stored away in some book. Take my advice, go into
a town; it is there that you find out about things in the country."

'Was he right? I wondered as I walked home that night. I could not
believe it, so I stayed on in the Black Forest till it was time to come
home, but without ever hearing of the Little Glass Man. I was on the
railroad again. It was early one morning when we stopped at a station;
there was no train for two hours, so I took a walk into the town.
There was a clear, fast-flowing river below, and in the distance again
such wonderful wooded hills. I went into a shop and asked for some
writing-paper.

'The gentleman who brought it out had on the shabbiest of coats, but on
his head there was an embroidered velvet cap, and his slippers too were
embroidered. Only his toes were stuck inside these, and he moved about
the shop slowly so as not to leave them behind.

'"And what is the name of that wood yonder?--those hills, I mean?--those
wooded heights?--that mountain range?" I asked, trying word after word,
and at last standing in the doorway and pointing at the hills opposite,
while he blankly stared at me.

'"Where can you be from that you should not know?" he said at last.

'"I am from England," I said rather hotly, "from London, a small place
you may have heard of."

'He nodded, "Oh yes, I know. You have not come all that way alone;
surely a lady by herself...."

'"Oh yes I have," I said, "and I have a good mind to go up among those
hills by myself too; perhaps some one up there might tell me what they
are called."

'"Look here," he said, "if you really mean to go, let me lend you my
map. I have got such a splendid one. And I shan't be using it for
months, as there is no one to mind the shop for me."

'He brought it out of a drawer and unfolded it, while I stared in my
turn.

'"You see," he said, "that is the highest point; now be sure you don't
miss seeing that. You see Forsthaus Diana marked; well there is the
inn, that spot close to it. That is where all those wonderful stories
were told."

'"What stories?" I said; "nothing about the Little Glass Man, I
suppose?"

'He went to the back of the shop and fumbled about.

'"Yes, of course, about the Little Glass Man, and about the Golden
Florin," he said; "even if you live in an out-of-the-way place like
London, you must have heard of them. Here is the book; stories by
Hauff. Dear me, to think that my father met the man more than once who
stored up all these treasures! You can take the book as well as the
map, if you like; if you are not coming back this way you can send them
by any one who is."

'There was no chair in the shop, I had to support myself against the
counter, I felt so overcome with having found the story at last. The
gentleman went on pointing out the best way to go, and what I must see,
and after half an hour it was all settled, my luggage was to be sent up
one way and I was to go another.

'"I am glad you will see the old inn standing where the stories were
told," he said, "and you will be quite comfortable at the forest-house
Diana. If I were you I should tell the lady-forester at once that you
are an English girl, and no Nihilist; that is what she is sure to think
if she sees a girl travelling about by herself. Tell her I sent you
there, and give my love to her niece Malchen, a wild little girl but a
good one, I feel sure, whatever they say to the contrary."'

At this point of her narrative the Blue Fairy stopped. There was a
pause.

'Well?' said Gogul Mogul. 'Go on, please go on,' the fairies called in
the audience.

'There is nothing more to tell,' said the Blue Fairy; 'the story of
the Little Glass Man was found. I read it through the next afternoon,
sitting in the garden of the inn where the student had originally told
it. Then I went back into the forest-house Diana, and sat chatting in
the kitchen with the lady-forester while the apples and potatoes for
the pigs were stewing, and Malchen sat by eating sour milk from a great
earthenware bowl. But of course that has nothing to do with the finding
of the stories. Only it was so enjoyable up there, it was so delightful
walking with that splendid map, and reading those stories, and making
friends with a charcoal-burner who was quite like Peter Munk, and
looking on while huge bits of timber were felled, that I stayed on and
on. Only of course there was the work of translating the stories into
English.'

Again the Blue Fairy stopped; there was prolonged cheering and clapping
of hands. It was Fairy Queen who spoke next:

'All this is very interesting,' she said, 'and so, I feel sure, is a
great deal more which the Blue Fairy could tell us about Germany. But
she has been travelling all day, she must be tired, we must not ask for
more to-night; only I am sure you must all be wanting to hear the story
about this Little Glass Man. As for myself, I am most anxious to hear
what he was like and what he did. As the fairy has translated the story
into English, and Gogul Mogul is sure to have the manuscript about him,
I propose calling on him to read it to us.'

There was long and loud cheering at this among the fairies. Gogul Mogul
fumbled first in one pocket, then in another; at last he brought out a
roll of manuscript and began as follows:




[Illustration]

THE LITTLE GLASS MAN


Those who travel through Swabia should always remember to cast a
passing glance into the Schwarzwald,[1] not so much for the sake of
the trees (though pines are not found everywhere in such prodigious
numbers, nor of such a surpassing height), as for the sake of
the people, who show a marked difference from all others in the
neighbourhood. They are taller than ordinary men, broad-shouldered,
strong-limbed, and it seems as if the bracing air which blows through
the pines in the morning, had allowed them, from their youth upwards,
to breathe more freely, and had given them a clearer eye and a firmer,
though ruder, mind than the inhabitants of the valleys and plains. The
strong contrast they form to the people living without the limits of
the "Wald," consists, not merely in their bearing and stature, but
also in their manners and costume. Those of the Schwarzwald of the
Baden territory dress most handsomely; the men allow their beards to
grow about the chin just as nature gives it; and their black jackets,
wide trousers, which are plaited in small folds, red stockings, and
painted hats surrounded by a broad brim, give them a strange, but
somewhat grave and noble appearance. Their usual occupations are the
manufacturing of glass, and the so-called Dutch clocks, which they
carry about for sale over half the globe.

      [Footnote 1: The Black Forest.]

Another part of the same race lives on the other side of the
Schwarzwald; but their occupations have made them contract manners and
customs quite different from those of the glass manufacturers. Their
_Wald_ supplies their trade; felling and fashioning their pines, they
float them through the _Nagold_ into the _Neckar_, from thence down the
Rhine as far as Holland; and near the sea the _Schwarzwaelder_ and their
long rafts are well known. Stopping at every town which is situated
along the river, they wait proudly for purchasers of their beams and
planks; but the strongest and longest beams they sell at a high price
to Mynheers, who build ships of them. Their trade has accustomed them
to a rude and roving life, their pleasure consisting in drifting down
the stream on their timber, their sorrow in wandering back again along
the shore. Hence the difference in their costume from that of the
glass manufacturers. They wear jackets of a dark linen cloth, braces
a hand-breadth wide, displayed over the chest, and trousers of black
leather, from the pocket of which a brass rule sticks out as a badge of
honour; but their pride and joy are their boots, which are probably the
largest that are worn in any part of the world, for they may be drawn
two spans above the knee, and the raftsmen may walk about in water at
three feet depth without getting their feet wet.

It is but a short time ago that the belief in hobgoblins of the wood
prevailed among the inhabitants, this foolish superstition having
been eradicated only in modern times. But the singularity about these
hobgoblins who are said to haunt the Schwarzwald, is, that they also
wear the different costumes of the people. Thus it is affirmed of the
Little Glass Man, a kind little sprite three feet and a half high, that
he never shows himself except in a painted little hat with a broad
brim, a doublet, white trousers, and red stockings; while Dutch Michel,
who haunts the other side of the forest, is said to be a gigantic,
broad-shouldered fellow wearing the dress of a raftsman; and many who
have seen him say they would not like to pay for the calves whose
hides it would require to make one pair of his boots, affirming that,
without exaggeration, a man of the middle height may stand in one of
them with his head only just peeping out.

The following strange adventure with these spirits is said to have
once befallen a young Schwarzwaelder:--There lived a widow in the
Schwarzwald whose name was Frau Barbara Munk; her husband had been a
charcoal-burner, and after his death she had by degrees prevailed upon
her boy, who was now sixteen years old, to follow his father's trade.
Young Peter Munk, a sly fellow, submitted to sit the whole week near
the smoking stack of wood, because he had seen his father do the same;
or, black and sooty and an abomination to the people as he was, to
drive to the nearest town and sell his charcoal. Now a charcoal-burner
has much leisure for reflection, about himself and others; and when
Peter Munk was sitting by his stack, the dark trees around him, as
well as the deep stillness of the forest, disposed his heart to tears,
and to an unknown secret longing. Something made him sad, and vexed
him, without his knowing exactly what it was. At length, however, he
found out the cause of his vexation,--it was his condition. 'A black,
solitary charcoal-burner,' he said to himself; 'it is a wretched
life. How much more are the glass manufacturers, and the clock-makers
regarded; and even the musicians, on a Sunday evening! And when Peter
Munk appears washed, clean, and dressed out in his father's best jacket
with the silver buttons and bran-new red stockings--if then, any one
walking behind him, thinks to himself, "I wonder who that smart fellow
is?" admiring, all the time, my stockings and stately gait;--if then,
I say, he passes me and looks round, will he not say, "Why, it is only
Peter Munk, the charcoal-burner"?'

The raftsmen also on the other side of the wood were an object of envy
to him. When these giants of the forest came over in their splendid
clothes, wearing about their bodies half a hundredweight of silver,
either in buckles, buttons, or chains, standing with sprawling legs
and consequential look to see the dancing, swearing in Dutch, and
smoking Cologne clay pipes a yard long, like the most noble Mynheers,
then he pictured to himself such a raftsman as the most perfect model
of human happiness. But when these fortunate men put their hands into
their pocket, pulled out handfuls of thalers and staked a Sechsbaetzner
piece upon the cast of a die, throwing their five or ten florins to
and fro, he was almost mad and sneaked sorrowfully home to his hut.
Indeed he had seen some of these gentlemen of the timber trade, on
many a holy-day evening, lose more than his poor old father had gained
in the whole year. There were three of these men in particular of
whom he knew not which to admire most. The one was a tall stout man
with ruddy face, who passed for the richest man in the neighbourhood;
he was usually called 'fat Hezekiel.' Twice every year he went with
timber to Amsterdam, and had the good luck to sell it so much dearer
than the others that he could return home in a splendid carriage, while
they had to walk. The second was the tallest and leanest man in the
whole _Wald_, and was usually called 'the tall Schlurker'; it was his
extraordinary boldness that excited Munk's envy, for he contradicted
people of the first importance, took up more room than four stout
men, no matter how crowded the inn might be, setting either both his
elbows upon the table, or drawing one of his long legs on the bench;
yet, notwithstanding all this, none dared to oppose him, since he
had a prodigious quantity of money. The third was a handsome young
fellow, who being the best dancer far around, was called 'the king of
the dancing-room.' Originally poor, he had been servant to one of the
timber merchants, when all at once he became immensely rich; for which
some accounted by saying he had found a potful of money under an old
pine tree, while others asserted that he had fished up in the Rhine,
near Bingen, a packet of gold coins with the spear which these raftsmen
sometimes throw at the fish as they go along in the river, that packet
being part of the great 'Niebelungenhort,' which is sunk there. However
this might be, the fact of his suddenly becoming rich caused him to be
looked upon as a prince by young and old.

Often did poor Peter Munk the coal-burner think of these three men when
sitting alone in the pine forest. All three indeed had one great fault,
which made them hated by everybody; this was their insatiable avarice,
their heartlessness towards their debtors and towards the poor, for the
Schwarzwaelder are naturally a kind-hearted people. However, we all know
how it is in these matters; though they were hated for their avarice,
yet they commanded respect on account of their money, for who but they
could throw away thalers, as if they could shake them from the pines?

'This will do no longer,' said Peter one day to himself, when he
felt very melancholy, it being the morrow after a holiday, when
everybody had been at the inn; 'if I don't soon thrive I shall make
away with myself; oh that I were as much looked up to and as rich as
the stout Hezekiel, or as bold and powerful as the tall Schlurker, or
as renowned as the king of the dancing-room, and could, like him,
throw thalers instead of kreutzers to the musicians! I wonder where
the fellow gets his money!' Reflecting upon all the different means
by which money may be got, he could please himself with none, till at
length he thought of the tales of those people who, in times of old,
had become rich through the Dutchman Michel, or the Little Glass Man.
During his father's lifetime other poor people often came to call, and
then their conversation was generally about rich persons, and the means
by which they had come by their riches; in these discourses the Little
Glass Man frequently played a conspicuous part. Now, if Peter strained
his memory a little, he could almost recall the short verse which one
must repeat near the Tannenbuehl in the heart of the forest, to make the
sprite appear. It began as follows--

   'Keeper of wealth in the forest of pine,
    Hundreds of years are surely thine:
    Thine is the tall pine's dwelling place--'

But he might tax his memory as much as he pleased, he could remember no
more of it. He often thought of asking some aged person what the whole
verse was. However, a certain fear of betraying his thoughts kept him
back, and moreover he concluded that the legend of the Little Glass Man
could not be very generally known, and that but few were acquainted
with the incantation, since there were not many rich persons in the
Wald;--if it were generally known, why had not his father, and other
poor people, tried their luck? At length, however, he one day got his
mother to talk about the little man, and she told him what he knew
already, as she herself remembered only the first line of the verse;
but she added that the sprite would show himself only to those who had
been born on a Sunday, between eleven and two o'clock. He was, she
said, quite fit for evoking him, as he was born at twelve o'clock at
noon; if he but knew the verse.

When Peter Munk heard this he was almost beside himself with joy and
desire to try the adventure. It appeared to him enough to know part
of the verse, and to be born on a Sunday, for the Little Glass Man to
show himself. Consequently when he one day had sold his charcoal, he
did not light a new stack, but put on his father's holiday jacket, his
new red stockings, and best hat, took his blackthorn stick, five feet
long, into his hand, and bade farewell to his mother, saying, 'I must
go to the magistrate in the town, for we shall soon have to draw lots
who is to be soldier, and therefore I wish to impress once more upon
him that you are a widow, and I am your only son.' His mother praised
his resolution; but he started for the Tannenbuehl. This lies on the
highest point of the Schwarzwald, and not a village or even a hut was
found, at that time, for two leagues around, for the superstitious
people believed it was haunted; they were even very unwilling to fell
timber in that part, though the pines were tall and excellent, for
often the axes of the wood-cutters had flown off the handle into their
feet, or the trees falling suddenly, had knocked the men down, and
either injured or even killed them; moreover, they could have used
the finest trees from there only for fuel, since the raftsmen never
would take a trunk from the Tannenbuehl as part of a raft, there being
a tradition that both men and timber would come to harm if they had a
tree from that spot on the water. Hence the trees there grew so dense
and high that it was almost night at noon. When Peter Munk approached
the place, he felt quite awe-stricken, hearing neither voice nor
footstep except his own; no axe resounded, and even the birds seemed to
shun the darkness amidst the pines.

Peter Munk had now reached the highest point of the Tannenbuehl, and
stood before a pine of enormous girth, for which a Dutch shipbuilder
would have given many hundred florins on the spot. 'Here,' said he,
'the treasure-keeper (Schatzhauser) no doubt lives;' and pulling off
his large hat, he made a low bow before the tree, cleared his throat,
and said with a trembling voice, 'I wish you a good evening, Mr.
Glass Man.' But receiving no answer, and all around remaining silent
as before, he thought it would probably be better to say the verse,
and therefore murmured it forth. On repeating the words he saw, to
his great astonishment, a singular and very small figure peep forth
from behind the tree. It seemed to him as if he had beheld the Little
Glass Man, just as he was described; the little black jacket, red
stockings, hat, all even to the pale, but fine shrewd countenance of
which the people talked so much, he thought he had seen. But alas, as
quickly as it had peeped forth, as quickly it had disappeared again.
'Mr. Glass Man,' cried Peter Munk, after a short hesitation, 'pray
don't make a fool of me; if you fancy that I have not seen you, you
are vastly mistaken; I saw you very well peeping forth from behind the
tree.' Still no answer; only at times he fancied he heard a low, hoarse
tittering behind the tree. At length his impatience conquered this
fear, which had still restrained him, and he cried, 'Wait, you little
rascal, I will have you yet.' At the same time he jumped behind the
tree, but there was no Schatzhauser, and only a pretty little squirrel
was running up the tree.

Peter Munk shook his head; he saw he had succeeded to a certain degree
in the incantation, and that he perhaps only wanted one more rhyme to
the verse to evoke the Little Glass Man; he tried over and over again,
but could not think of anything. The squirrel showed itself on the
lowest branches of the tree, and seemed to encourage or perhaps to mock
him. It trimmed itself, it rolled its pretty tail, and looked at him
with its cunning eyes. At length he was almost afraid of being alone
with this animal; for sometimes it seemed to have a man's head and to
wear a three-cornered hat, sometimes to be quite like another squirrel,
with the exception only of having red stockings and black shoes on its
hind feet. In short, it was a merry little creature, but still Peter
felt an awe, fancying that all was not right.

Peter now went away with more rapid strides than he had come. The
darkness of the forest seemed to become blacker and blacker; the trees
stood closer to each other, and he began to be so terrified that he
ran off in a trot, and only became more tranquil when he heard dogs
bark at a distance, and soon after descried the smoke of a hut through
the trees. But on coming nearer and seeing the dress of the people,
he found that having taken the contrary direction, he had got to the
raftsmen instead of the glass-makers. The people living in the hut were
wood-cutters, consisting of an aged man with his son, who was the
owner, and some grown-up grandchildren. They received Peter Munk, who
begged a night's quarter, hospitably enough without asking his name or
residence; they gave him cider to drink, and in the evening a large
black cock, the best meal in the Schwarzwald, was served up for supper.

After this meal the housewife and her daughters took their distaffs
and sat round a large pine torch, which the boys fed with the finest
rosin; the host with his guest sat smoking and looking at the women;
while the boys were busy carving wooden spoons and forks. The storm was
howling and raging through the pines in the forest without, and now
and then very heavy blasts were heard, and it was as if whole trees
were breaking off and crashing down. The fearless youths were about to
run out to witness this terrific and beautiful spectacle, but their
grandfather kept them back with a stern look and these words: 'I would
not advise any of you,' cried he, 'to go now outside the door; by
heavens he never would return, for Michel the Dutchman is building this
night a new raft in the forest.'

The younger of them looked at him with astonishment, having probably
heard before of Michel, but they begged their grandpapa to tell them
some interesting story of him. Peter Munk, who had heard but confused
stories of Michel the Dutchman on the other side of the forest, joined
in this request, asking the old man who and where he was. 'He is the
lord of the forest,' was the answer; 'and from your not having heard
this at your age, it follows that you must be a native of those parts
just beyond the Tannenbuehl, or perhaps still more distant. But I will
tell you all I know, and how the story goes about him. A hundred years
ago or thereabouts, there were far and wide no people more upright
in their dealings than the Schwarzwaelder, at least so my grandfather
used to tell me. Now, since there is so much money in the country,
the people are dishonest and bad. The young fellows dance and riot on
Sundays, and swear to such a degree that it is horrible to hear them;
whereas formerly it was quite different, and I have often said and now
say, though he should look in through the window, that the Dutchman
Michel is the cause of all this depravity. A hundred years ago there
lived a very rich timber merchant who had many servants; he carried his
trade far down the Rhine and was very prosperous, being a pious man.
One evening a person such as he had never seen came to his door; his
dress was like that of the young fellows of the Schwarzwald, but he was
full a head taller than any of them, and no one had ever thought there
could be such a giant. He asked for work, and the timber merchant,
seeing he was strong, and able to carry great weights, agreed with
him about the wages and took him into his service. He found Michel to
be a labourer such as he had never yet had; for in felling trees he
was equal to three ordinary men, and when six men were pulling at one
end of a trunk he would carry the other end alone. After having been
employed in felling timber for six months, he came one day before his
master, saying, "I have now been cutting wood long enough here, and
should like to see what becomes of my trunks; what say you to letting
me go with the rafts for once?" To which his master replied, "I have no
objection, Michel, to your seeing a little of the world; to be sure I
want strong men like yourself to fell the timber, and on the river all
depends upon skill; but, nevertheless, be it for this time as you wish."

'Now the float with which Michel was to go consisted of eight rafts,
and in the last there were some of the largest beams. But what then?
The evening before starting the tall Michel brought eight beams to
the water, thicker and longer than had ever been seen, and he carried
every one of them as easily upon his shoulder as if it had been a
rowing-pole, so that all were amazed. Where he had felled them, no one
knows to this day. The heart of the timber merchant was leaping with
joy when he saw this, calculating what these beams would fetch; but
Michel said, "Well, these are for me to travel on; with those chips I
should not be able to get on at all." His master was going to make him
a present of a pair of boots, but throwing them aside, Michel brought
out a pair the largest that had ever been seen, and my grandfather
assured me they weighed a hundred pounds and were five feet long.

'The float started; and if Michel had before astonished the
wood-cutters, he perfectly astonished the raftsmen; for his raft,
instead of drifting slowly down the river as they thought it would,
by reason of the immense beams, darted on like an arrow, as soon as
they came into the Neckar. If the river took a turn, or if they came
to any part where they had a difficulty in keeping the middle stream,
or were in danger of running aground, Michel always jumped into the
water, pushing his float either to the right or to the left, so that
he glided past without danger. If they came to a part where the river
ran straight, Michel often sprang to the foremost raft, and making all
put up their poles, fixed his own enormous pole in the sand, and by
one push made the float dart along, so that it seemed as if the land,
trees, and villages were flying by them. Thus they came in half the
time they generally took to Cologne on the Rhine, where they formerly
used to sell their timber. Here Michel said, "You are but sorry
merchants and know nothing of your advantage. Think you these Colognese
want all the timber from the Schwarzwald for themselves? I tell you no,
they buy it of you for half its value, and sell it dear to Holland. Let
us sell our small beams here, and go to Holland with the large ones;
what we get above the ordinary price is our own profit."

'Thus spoke the subtle Michel, and the others consented; some because
they liked to go and see Holland, some for the sake of the money. Only
one man was honest, and endeavoured to dissuade them from putting
the property of their master in jeopardy or cheating him out of the
higher price. However, they did not listen to him and forgot his
words, while Michel forgot them not. So they went down the Rhine
with the timber, and Michel, guiding the float, soon brought them to
Rotterdam. Here they were offered four times as much as at Cologne, and
particularly the large beams of Michel fetched a very high sum. When
the Schwarzwaelders beheld the money, they were almost beside themselves
with joy. Michel divided the money, putting aside one-fourth for their
master, and distributing the other three among the men. And now they
went into the public-houses with sailors and other rabble, squandering
their money in drinking and gambling; while the honest fellow who had
dissuaded them was sold by Michel to a slave-trader, and has never been
heard of since. From that time forward Holland was a paradise to the
fellows from the Schwarzwald, and the Dutchman Michel their king. For
a long time the timber merchants were ignorant of this proceeding, and
before people were aware, money, swearing, corrupt manners, drunkenness
and gambling were imported from Holland.

'When the thing became known, Michel was nowhere to be found, but he
was not dead; for a hundred years he has been haunting the forest, and
is said to have helped many in becoming rich at the cost of their souls
of course: more I will not say. This much, however, is certain, that to
the present day, in boisterous nights, he finds out the finest pines
in the Tannenbuehl where people are not to fell wood; and my father
has seen him break off one of four feet diameter, as he would break a
reed. Such trees he gives to those who turn from the right path and go
to him; at midnight they bring their rafts to the water and he goes to
Holland with them. If I were lord and king in Holland, I would have
him shot, for all the ships that have but a single beam of Michel's,
must go to the bottom. Hence it is that we hear of so many shipwrecks;
if it were not so, how could a beautiful, strong ship as large as
a church go down. But as often as Michel fells a pine in the forest
during a boisterous night, one of his old ones starts from its joints,
the water enters, and the ship is lost, men and all. So far goes the
legend of the Dutchman Michel; and true it is that all the evil in the
Schwarzwald dates from him. Oh! he can make one rich,' added the old
man mysteriously; 'but I would have nothing from him; I would at no
price be in the shoes of fat Hezekiel and the long Schlurker. The king
of the dancing-room, too, is said to have made himself over to him.'

The storm had abated during the narrative of the old man; the girls
timidly lighted their lamps and retired, while the men put a sackful
of leaves upon the bench by the stove as a pillow for Peter Munk, and
wished him good-night.

Never in his life had Peter such heavy dreams as during this night;
sometimes he fancied the dark gigantic Michel was tearing the window
open and reaching in with his monstrous long arm a purse full of gold
pieces, which jingled clearly and loudly as he shook them; at another
time he saw the little friendly Glass Man riding upon a huge green
bottle about the room, and thought he heard again the same hoarse
laughter as in the Tannenbuehl; again something hummed into his left ear
the following verse--

   'In Holland I wot,
    There's gold to be got,
    Small price for a lot,
    Who would have it not?'

Again he heard in his right ear the song of the Schatzhauser in the
green forest, and a soft voice whispered to him, 'Stupid Coal-Peter,
stupid Peter Munk, you cannot find a rhyme with "place," and yet are
born on a Sunday at twelve o'clock precisely. Rhyme, dull Peter, rhyme!'

He groaned, he wearied himself to find a rhyme, but never having made
one in his life, his trouble in his dream was fruitless. When he awoke
the next morning with the first dawn, his dream seemed strange to him;
he sat down at the table with his arms crossed, and meditated upon the
whisperings that were still ringing in his ears. He said to himself,
'Rhyme, stupid Peter, rhyme,' knocking his forehead with his finger,
but no rhyme would come. While still sitting in this mood, looking
gloomily down before him and thinking of a rhyme with 'place,' he heard
three men passing outside and going into the forest, one of whom was
singing--

   'I stood upon the brightest place,
    I gazed upon the plain,
    And then--oh then--I saw that face,
    I never saw again.'

These words flashed like lightning through Peter's ear, and hastily
starting up, he rushed out of the house, thinking he was mistaken in
what he had heard, ran after the three fellows and seized, suddenly and
rudely, the singer by the arm, crying at the same time, 'Stop, friend,
what was it you rhymed with "place"? Do me the favour to tell me what
you were singing.'

'What possesses you, fellow?' replied the Schwarzwaelder. 'I may sing
what I like; let go my arm, or----'

'No, you shall tell me what you were singing,' shouted Peter, almost
beside himself, clutching him more tightly at the same time. When the
other two saw this, they were not long in falling foul upon poor Peter
with their large fists, and belabouring him till the pain made him
release the third, and he sank exhausted upon his knees.

'Now you have your due,' said they, laughing; 'and mark you, madcap,
never again stop people like us upon the highway.'

'Woe is me!' replied Peter with a sigh, 'I shall certainly recollect
it. But now that I have had the blows, you will oblige me by telling
me plainly what he was singing.' To this they laughed again and mocked
him; but the one who had sung repeated the song to him, after which
they went away laughing and singing.

'"Face,"' then said the poor belaboured Peter as he got up slowly,
'will rhyme with "place"; now, Little Glass Man, I will have another
word with you.' He went into the hut, took his hat and long stick, bade
farewell to the inmates, and commenced his way back to the Tannenbuehl.
Being under the necessity of inventing a verse, he proceeded slowly
and thoughtfully on his way; at length, when he was already within the
precincts of the Tannenbuehl, and the trees became higher and closer, he
found his verse, and for joy cut a caper in the air. All at once he saw
coming from behind the trees a gigantic man dressed like a raftsman,
who held in his hand a pole as large as the mast of a ship. Peter
Munk's knees almost gave way under him, when he saw him slowly striding
by his side, thinking he was no other than the Dutchman Michel. Still
the terrible figure kept silence, and Peter cast a side glance at him
from time to time. He was full a head taller than the biggest man
Peter had even seen; his face expressed neither youth nor old age, but
was full of furrows and wrinkles; he wore a jacket of linen, and the
enormous boots being drawn above his leather breeches, were well known
to Peter from hearsay.

'What are you doing in the Tannenbuehl, Peter Munk?' asked the wood king
at length, in a deep, roaring voice.

'Good morning, countryman,' replied Peter, wishing to show himself
undaunted, but trembling violently all the while.

'Peter Munk,' replied Michel, casting a piercing, terrible glance at
him, 'your way does not lie through this grove.'

'True, it does not exactly,' said Peter, 'but being a hot day, I
thought it would be cooler here.'

'Do not lie, Peter,' cried Michel, in a thundering voice, 'or I strike
you to the ground with this pole; think you I have not seen you begging
of the little one?' he added mildly. 'Come, come, confess it was a
silly trick, and it is well you did not know the verse; for the little
fellow is a skinflint, giving but little; and he to whom he gives is
never again cheerful in his life. Peter, you are but a poor fool and I
pity you in my soul; you, such a brisk, handsome fellow, surely could
do something better in the world than make charcoal. While others
lavish big thalers and ducats, you can scarcely spend a few pence; 'tis
a wretched life.'

'You are right, it is truly a wretched life.'

'Well,' continued Michel, 'I will not stand upon trifles; you would not
be the first honest good fellow whom I have assisted at a pinch. Tell
me, how many hundred thalers do you want for the present?' shaking the
money in his huge pocket, as he said this, so that it jingled just
as Peter had heard it in his dream. But Peter's heart felt a kind of
painful convulsion at these words, and he was cold and hot alternately;
for Michel did not look as if he would give away money out of charity,
without asking anything in return. The old man's mysterious words about
rich people occurred to him, and urged by an inexplicable anxiety and
fear, he cried, 'Much obliged to you, sir, but I will have nothing
to do with you and know you well,' and at the same time he began to
run as fast as he could. The wood spirit, however, strode by his side
with immense steps, murmuring and threatening, 'You will repent it,
Peter; it is written on your forehead and to be read in your eyes that
you will not escape me. Do not run so fast, listen only to a single
rational word; there is my boundary already.' But Peter, hearing this
and seeing at a little distance before him a small ditch, hastened
the more to pass this boundary, so that Michel was obliged at length
to run faster, cursing and threatening while pursuing him. With a
desperate leap Peter cleared the ditch, for he saw that the wood spirit
was raising his pole to dash it upon him; having fortunately reached
the other side, he heard the pole shatter to pieces in the air as if
against an invisible wall, and a long piece fell down at his feet.

He picked it up in triumph to throw it at the rude Michel; but in an
instant he felt the piece of wood move in his hand, and, to his horror,
perceived that he held an enormous serpent, which was raising itself up
towards his face with its venomous tongue and glistening eyes. He let
go his hold, but it had already twisted itself tight round his arm and
came still closer to his face with its vibrating head; at this instant,
however, an immense black cock rushed down, seized the head of the
serpent with its beak, and carried it up in the air. Michel, who had
observed all this from the other side of the ditch, howled, cried, and
raved when he saw the serpent carried away by one more powerful than
himself.

Exhausted and trembling, Peter continued his way; the path became
steeper, the country wilder, and soon he found himself before the large
pine. He again made a bow to the invisible Little Glass Man, as he had
done the day before, and said--

   'Keeper of wealth in the forest of pine,
    Hundreds of years are surely thine,
    Thine is the tall pine's dwelling place,
    Those born on Sunday see thy face.'

'You have not quite hit it,' said a delicate fine voice near him, 'but
as it is you, Peter, I will not be particular.' Astonished he looked
round, and lo! under a beautiful pine there sat a little old man in
a black jacket, red stockings, and a large hat on his head. He had
a tiny affable face and a little beard as fine as a spider's web;
and strange to see, he was smoking a pipe of blue glass. Nay, Peter
observed to his astonishment, on coming nearer, that the clothes,
shoes, and hat of the little man were also of coloured glass, which was
as flexible as if it were still hot, bending like cloth to every motion
of the little man.

'You have met the lubber Michel, the Dutchman?' asked the little man,
laughing strangely between each word. 'He wished to frighten you
terribly; but I have got his magic cudgel, which he shall never have
again.'

'Yes, Mr. Schatzhauser,' replied Peter, with a profound bow, 'I was
terribly frightened. But I suppose the black cock was yourself, and
I am much obliged to you for killing the serpent. The object of my
visit to you, however, is to ask your advice; I am in very poor
circumstances, for charcoal-burning is not a profitable trade; and
being still young I should think I might be made something better,
seeing so often as I do how other people have thriven in a short time;
I need only mention Hezekiel, and the king of the dancing-room, who
have money like dirt.'

'Peter,' said the little man gravely, blowing the smoke of his pipe
a long way off, 'don't talk to me of these men. What good have they
from being apparently happy for a few years here, and the more unhappy
for it afterwards? you must not despise your trade; your father and
grandfather were honest people, Peter Munk, and they carried on the
same trade. Let me not suppose it is love of idleness that brings you
to me.'

Peter was startled at the gravity of the little man, and blushed. 'No,
Mr. Schatzhauser,' said he; 'idleness is the root of every vice, but
you cannot blame me, if another condition pleases me better than my
own. A charcoal-burner is, in truth, a very mean personage in this
world; the glass manufacturer, the raftsmen, and clock-makers, are
people much more looked upon.'

'Pride will have a fall,' answered the little man of the pine wood,
rather more kindly. 'What a singular race you are, you men! It is
but rarely that one is contented with the condition in which he was
born and bred, and I would lay a wager that if you were a glass
manufacturer, you would wish to be a timber merchant, and if you were
a timber merchant you would take a fancy to the ranger's place, or the
residence of the bailiff. But no matter for that; if you promise to
work hard, I will get you something better to do. It is my practice
to grant three wishes to those born on a Sunday, who know how to find
me out. The first two are quite free from any condition, the third I
may refuse, should it be a foolish one. Now, therefore, Peter, say your
wishes; but mind you wish something good and useful.'

'Hurrah!' shouted Peter; 'you are a capital glass man, and justly do
people call you the treasure-keeper, for treasures seem to be plentiful
with you. Well, then, since I may wish what my heart desires, my
first wish is that I may be able to dance better than the king of the
dancing-room, and to have always as much money in my pocket as fat
Hezekiel.'

'You fool!' replied the little man angrily, 'what a paltry wish is
this, to be able to dance well and to have money for gambling. Are you
not ashamed of this silly wish, you blockish Peter? Would you cheat
yourself out of good fortune? What good will you and your poor mother
reap from your dancing well? What use will money be to you, which,
according to your wish, is only for the public-house, there to be spent
like that of the wretched king of the dancing-room? And then you will
have nothing for the whole week and starve. Another wish is now left
free to you; but have a care to desire something more rational.'

Peter scratched himself behind his ears, and said, after some
hesitation, 'Now I wish for the finest and richest glass factory in the
Schwarzwald, with everything appertaining to it, and money to carry it
on.'

'Is that all?' asked the little man, with a look of anxiety; 'is there
nothing else, Peter?'

'Why you might add a horse and chaise.'

'Oh, you stupid Peter!' cried the little man, while he flung his
glass pipe against a thick pine so that it broke in a hundred pieces.
'Horses? a carriage? Sense, I tell you, sense--common sense and
judgment you ought to have wished for, but not a horse and chaise.
Come, come, don't be so sad, we will do all we can to make it turn out
for the best, even as it is, for the second wish is on the whole not
altogether foolish. A good glass factory will support its man; but you
ought to have wished for judgment and sense in addition; a horse and
chaise would come as a matter of course.'

'But, Mr. Schatzhauser,' replied Peter, 'I have another wish left, and
might very well wish for sense, if I am so much in need of it, as you
seem to think.'

'Say no more about it. You will get involved in many an embarrassment
yet, when you will be glad of being at liberty to obtain your third
wish. And now proceed on your way home.' Drawing a small bag from his
pocket, he said: 'There are two thousand florins; let that be enough,
and don't come again asking for money, for, if you do, I must hang you
up to the highest pine. That is the way I have always acted ever since
I have lived in the forest. Three days ago old Winkfritz died, who had
a large glass factory in the Unterwald. Go there to-morrow morning,
and make a fair offer for it. Look well to yourself. Be prudent and be
industrious; I will come to see you from time to time, and assist you
with word and deed, since you have not wished for common sense. But
I must repeat it seriously; your first wish was evil. Guard against
frequenting the public-house, Peter; no one who did so ever prospered
long.' The little man, while thus talking to him, had taken a new pipe,
of the most beautiful glass, from his pocket, charged it with dry
fir-apples, and stuck it into his little toothless mouth. Then drawing
out a large burning-glass, he stepped into the sun and lighted it. When
he had done this, he kindly offered his hand to Peter, added a few
more words of salutary advice which he might carry on his way, puffed
and blew still faster, and finally disappeared in a cloud of smoke,
which smelled of genuine Dutch canaster, and, slowly curling upwards,
vanished amidst the tops of the pines.

On his arrival home, Peter found his mother in great anxiety about
him, for the good dame thought in reality her son had been drawn among
the recruits. He, however, was in great glee and full of hope, and
related to her how he had met with a good friend in the forest, who
had advanced him money to begin another trade. Although his mother had
been living for thirty years in a charcoal-burner's hut, and was as
much accustomed to the sight of sooty people as any miller's wife is to
the floury face of her husband, yet, as soon as her Peter showed her a
more splendid lot, she was vain enough to despise her former condition,
and said: 'In truth, as the mother of a man who possesses a glass
manufactory, I shall indeed be something different from neighbour Kate
and Betsy, and shall in future sit more consequentially at church among
the people of quality.' Her son soon came to terms with the heir of the
glass manufactory. He kept the workmen he found, and made them work day
and night at manufacturing glass. At first he was pleased well enough
with his new trade; he was in the habit of walking leisurely into the
factory, striding up and down with an air of consequence and with his
hands in his pockets, looking now in one corner, now in another, and
talking about various things at which his workmen often used to laugh
heartily. His chief delight, however, was to see the glass blown, when
he would often set to work himself, and form the strangest figures of
the soft mass. But he soon took a dislike to the work; first he came
only for an hour in the day, then only every other day, and finally
only once a week, so that his workmen did just what they liked. All
this came from his frequenting the public-house. The Sunday after he
had come back from the Tannenbuehl he went to the public-house, and who
should be jumping there already but the king of the dancing-room; fat
Hezekiel also was already sitting by a quart pot, playing at dice for
crown-pieces. Now Peter quickly put his hand into his pocket to feel
whether the Little Glass Man had been true to his word, and lo! his
pockets were stuffed full of silver and gold. He also felt an itching
and twitching in his legs, as if they wished to dance and caper. When
the first dance was over, he took his place with his partner at the
top next to the king of the dancing-room; and if the latter jumped
three feet high, Peter jumped four; if he made fantastic and graceful
steps, Peter twined and twisted his legs in such a manner that all
the spectators were utterly amazed with delight and admiration. But
when it was rumoured in the dancing-room that Peter had bought a glass
manufactory, and when people saw that Peter, as often as he passed
the musicians, threw a six-baetzner piece to them, there was no end
of astonishment. Some thought he had found a treasure in the forest,
others were of opinion that he had succeeded to some fortune, but all
respected him now, and considered him a made man, simply because he
had plenty of money. Indeed that very evening he lost twenty florins
at play, and yet his pockets jingled and tingled as if there were a
hundred thalers in them.

When Peter saw how much respected he was, he could no longer contain
himself with joy and pride. He threw away handfuls of money and
distributed it profusely among the poor, knowing full well as he did
how poverty had formerly pinched him. The feats of the king of the
dancing-room were completely eclipsed by those of the new dancer, and
Peter was surnamed the 'emperor of the dancing-room.' The most daring
gamblers did not stake so much as he did on a Sunday, neither did they,
however, lose so much; but then, the more he lost, the more he won.
This was exactly what he had demanded from the Little Glass Man; for
he had wished he might always have as much money in his pocket as fat
Hezekiel, and it was to this very man he lost his money. If he lost
twenty or thirty florins at a stroke, they were immediately replaced
in his own pocket, as soon as Hezekiel pocketed them. By degrees he
carried his revelling and gambling further than the worst fellows
in the Schwarzwald, and he was oftener called 'gambling Peter' than
'emperor of the dancing-room,' since he now gambled almost all days
of the week. In consequence of his imprudence, his glass manufactory
gradually fell off. He had manufactured as much as ever could be made,
but he had failed to purchase, together with the factory, the secret
of disposing of it most profitably. At length it accumulated to such a
degree that he did not know what to do with it, and sold it for half
price to itinerant dealers in order to pay his workmen.

Walking homewards one evening from the public-house, he could not, in
spite of the quantity of wine he had drunk to make himself merry, help
thinking with terror and grief of the decline of his fortune. While
engaged in these reflections, he all at once perceived some one walking
by his side. He looked round, and behold it was the Little Glass Man.
At the sight of him he fell into a violent passion, protested solemnly,
and swore that the little man was the cause of all his misfortune.
'What am I to do now with the horse and chaise?' he cried; 'of what use
is the manufactory and all the glass to me? Even when I was merely a
wretched charcoal-burner, I lived more happily, and had no cares. Now
I know not when the bailiff may come to value my goods and chattels,
and seize all for debt.'

'Indeed?' replied the Little Glass Man, 'indeed? I am then the cause
of your being unfortunate. Is that your gratitude for my benefits? Who
bade you wish so foolishly? A glass manufacturer you wished to be, and
you did not know where to sell your glass! Did I not tell you to be
cautious in what you wished for? Common sense, Peter, and prudence, you
wanted.'

'A fig for your sense and prudence,' cried Peter; 'I am as shrewd a
fellow as any one, and will prove it to you, Little Glass Man,' seizing
him rudely by the collar as he spoke these words, and crying, 'Have I
now got you, Schatzhauser? Now I will tell you my third wish, which you
shall grant me. I'll have instantly, on the spot, two hundred thousand
hard thalers and a house. Woe is me!' he cried, suddenly shaking his
hand, for the little man of the wood had changed himself into red-hot
glass, and burned in his hand like bright fire. Nothing more was to be
seen of him.

For several days his swollen hand reminded him of his ingratitude and
folly. Soon, however, he silenced his conscience, saying: 'Should they
sell my glass, manufactory and all, still fat Hezekiel is certain to
me; and as long as he has money on a Sunday, I cannot want.'

'Very true, Peter! But, if he has none?' And so it happened one day,
and it proved a singular example in arithmetic. For he came one Sunday
in his chaise to the inn, and at once all the people popped their
heads out of the windows, one saying, 'There comes gambling Peter;'
a second saying, 'Yes, there is the emperor of the dancing-room, the
wealthy glass manufacturer;' while a third shook his head, saying, 'It
is all very well with his wealth, but people talk a great deal about
his debts, and somebody in town has said that the bailiff will not wait
much longer before he distrains upon him.'

At this moment the wealthy Peter saluted the guests at the windows in a
haughty and grave manner, descended from his chaise, and cried: 'Good
evening, mine Host of the Sun. Is fat Hezekiel here?'

To this question a deep voice answered from within: 'Only come in,
Peter; your place is kept for you; we are all here at the cards
already.'

Peter entering the parlour, immediately put his hand into his pocket,
and perceived, by its being quite full, that Hezekiel must be
plentifully supplied. He sat down at the table among the others and
played, losing and winning alternately; thus they kept playing till
night, when all sober people went home. After having continued for
some time by candle-light, two of the gamblers said: 'Now it is enough,
and we must go home to our wives and children.'

But Peter challenged Hezekiel to remain. The latter was unwilling, but
said, after a while, 'Be it as you wish; I will count my money, and
then we'll play dice at five florins the stake, for anything lower is,
after all, but child's play.' He drew his purse, and, after counting,
found he had a hundred florins left; now Peter knew how much he himself
had left, without counting first. But if Hezekiel had won before,
he now lost stake after stake, and swore most awfully. If he cast a
_pasch_, Peter immediately cast one likewise, and always two points
higher. At length he put down the last five florins on the table,
saying, 'Once more; and if I lose this stake also, yet I will not leave
off; you will then lend me some of the money you have won now, Peter;
one honest fellow helps the other.'

'As much as you like, even if it were a hundred florins,' replied
Peter, joyful at his gain, and fat Hezekiel rattled the dice and threw
up fifteen; 'Pasch!' he exclaimed, 'now we'll see!' But Peter threw up
eighteen, and, at this moment, a hoarse, well-known voice said behind
him, 'So! that was the last.'

He looked round, and behind him stood the gigantic figure of Michel
the Dutchman. Terrified, he dropped the money he had already taken up.
But fat Hezekiel, not seeing Michel, demanded that Peter should advance
him ten florins for playing. As if in a dream, Peter hastily put his
hand into his pocket, but there was no money; he searched in the other
pocket, but in vain; he turned his coat inside out, not a farthing,
however, fell out; and at this instant he first recollected his first
wish, viz. to have always as much money in his pocket as fat Hezekiel.
All had now vanished like smoke.

The host and Hezekiel looked at him with astonishment as he still
searched for and could not find his money; they would not believe that
he had no more left; but when they at length searched his pockets,
without finding anything, they were enraged, swearing that gambling
Peter was an evil wizard, and had wished away all the money he had won
home to his own house. Peter defended himself stoutly, but appearances
were against him. Hezekiel protested he would tell this shocking story
to all the people in the Schwarzwald, and the host vowed he would the
following morning early go into the town and inform against Peter as a
sorcerer, adding that he had no doubt of his being burnt alive. Upon
this they fell furiously upon him, tore off his coat, and kicked him
out of doors.

Not one star was twinkling in the sky to lighten Peter's way as he
sneaked sadly towards his home, but still he could distinctly recognise
a dark form striding by his side, which at length said, 'It is all over
with you, Peter Munk; all your splendour is at an end, and this I could
have foretold you even at the time when you would not listen to me, but
rather ran to the silly glass dwarf. You now see to what you have come
by disregarding my advice. But try your fortune with me this time, I
have compassion on your fate. No one ever yet repented of applying to
me, and if you don't mind the walk to the Tannenbuehl, I shall be there
all day to-morrow and you may speak to me, if you will call.' Peter now
very clearly perceived who was speaking to him, but feeling a sensation
of awe, he made no answer and ran towards home.

When, on the Monday morning, he came to his factory, he not only found
his workmen, but also other people whom no one likes to see, viz. the
bailiff and three beadles. The bailiff wished Peter good morning,
asked him how he had slept, and then took from his pocket a long list
of Peter's creditors, saying, with a stern look, 'Can you pay or not?
Be short, for I have no time to lose, and you know it is full three
leagues to the prison.' Peter in despair confessed he had nothing left,
telling the bailiff he might value all the premises, horses and carts.
But while they went about examining and valuing the things, Peter said
to himself, 'Well, it is but a short way to the Tannenbuehl, and as the
_little_ man has not helped me, I will now for once try the _big_ man.'
He ran towards the Tannenbuehl as fast as if the beadles were at his
heels. On passing the spot where the Little Glass Man had first spoken
to him, he felt as if an invisible hand were stopping him, but he tore
himself away and ran onwards till he came to the boundary which he
had well marked. Scarcely had he, quite out of breath, called 'Dutch
Michel, Mr. Dutch Michel!' when suddenly the gigantic raftsman with his
pole stood before him.

'Have you come then?' said the latter, laughing. 'Were they going
to fleece you and sell you to your creditors? Well, be easy, all
your sorrow comes, as I have always said, from the Little Glass Man,
the Separatist and Pietist. When one gives, one ought to give right
plentifully and not like that skinflint. But come,' he continued,
turning towards the forest, 'follow me to my house, there we'll see
whether we can strike a bargain.'

'Strike a bargain?' thought Peter. 'What can he want of me, what can
I sell to him? Am I perhaps to serve him, or what is it that he can
want?' They went at first uphill over a steep forest path, when all at
once they stopped at a dark, deep, and almost perpendicular ravine.
Michel leaped down as easily as he would go down marble steps; but
Peter almost fell into a fit when he saw him below, rising up like a
church steeple, reaching him an arm as long as a scaffolding pole, with
a hand at the end as broad as the table in the ale-house, and calling
in a voice which sounded like the deep tones of a death bell, 'Set
yourself boldly on my hand, hold fast by the fingers and you will not
fall off.' Peter, trembling, did as he was ordered, sat down upon his
hand and held himself fast by the thumb of the giant.

They now went down a long way and very deep, yet, to Peter's
astonishment, it did not grow darker; on the contrary, the daylight
seemed rather to increase in the chasm, and it was some time before
Peter's eyes could bear it. Michel's stature became smaller as Peter
came lower down, and he stood now in his former size before a house
just like those of the wealthy peasants of the Schwarzwald. The room
into which Peter was led differed in nothing but its appearance of
solitariness from those of other people. The wooden clock, the stove
of Dutch tiles, the broad benches and utensils on the shelves were the
same as anywhere else. Michel told him to sit down at the large table,
then went out of the room and returned with a pitcher of wine and
glasses. Having filled these, they now began a conversation, and Dutch
Michel expatiated on the pleasures of the world, talked of foreign
countries, fine cities and rivers, so that Peter, at length, feeling a
yearning after such sights, candidly told Michel his wish.

'If you had courage and strength in your body to undertake anything,
could a few palpitations of your stupid heart make you tremble; and the
offences against honour, or misfortunes, why should a rational fellow
care for either? Did you feel it in your head when they but lately
called you a cheat and a scoundrel? Or did it give you a pain in your
stomach, when the bailiff came to eject you from your house? Tell me,
where was it you felt pain?'

'In my heart,' replied Peter, putting his hand on his beating breast,
for he felt as if his heart was anxiously turning within him.

'Excuse me for saying so, but you have thrown away many hundred
florins on vile beggars and other rabble; what has it profited you?
They have wished you blessings and health for it; well, have you
grown the healthier for that? For half that money you might have
kept a physician. A blessing, a fine blessing, forsooth, when one
is distrained upon and ejected! And what was it that urged you put
your hand into your pocket, as often as a beggar held out his broken
hat?--Why your heart again, and ever your heart, neither your eyes, nor
your tongue, nor your arms, nor your legs, but your heart; you have, as
the proverb truly says, taken too much to heart.'

'But how can we accustom ourselves to act otherwise? I take, at
this moment, every possible pains to suppress it, and yet my heart
palpitates and pains me.'

'You, indeed, poor fellow!' cried Michel, laughing; 'you can do nothing
against it; but give me this scarcely palpitating thing, and you will
see how comfortable you will then feel.'

'My heart to you?' cried Peter, horrified. 'Why, then, I must die on
the spot! Never!'

'Yes, if one of your surgeons would operate upon you and take out your
heart, you must indeed die; but with me it is a different thing; just
come in here and convince yourself.'

Rising at these words, he opened the door of a chamber and took Peter
in. On stepping over the threshold, his heart contracted convulsively,
but he minded it not, for the sight that presented itself was singular
and surprising. On several shelves glasses were standing, filled with
a transparent liquid, and each contained a heart. All were labelled
with names which Peter read with curiosity; there was the heart of
the bailiff in F., that of fat Hezekiel, that of the king of the
dancing-room, that of the ranger; there were the hearts of six usurious
corn merchants, of eight recruiting officers, of three money-brokers;
in short, it was a collection of the most respectable hearts twenty
leagues around.

'Look!' said Dutch Michel, 'all these have shaken off the anxieties
and cares of life; none of these hearts any longer beat anxiously and
uneasily, and their former owners feel happy now they have got rid of
the troublesome guest.'

'But what do they now carry in their breasts instead?' asked Peter,
whose head was nearly swimming at what he beheld.

'_This_,' replied he, taking out of a small drawer, and presenting to
him--a heart of stone.

'Indeed!' said Peter, who could not prevent a cold shuddering coming
over him. 'A heart of marble? But, tell me, Mr. Michel, such a heart
must be very cold in one's breast.'

'True, but very agreeably cool. Why should a heart be warm? For in
winter its warmth is of little use, and good strong Kirschwasser does
more than a warm heart, and in summer when all is hot and sultry, you
can't think how cooling such a heart is. And, as before said, such a
heart feels neither anxiety nor terror, neither foolish compassion nor
other grief.'

'And that is all you can offer me?' asked Peter indignantly; 'I looked
for money and you are going to give me a stone.'

'Well! an hundred thousand florins, methinks, would suffice you for the
present. If you employ it properly, you may soon make it a million.'

'An hundred thousand!' exclaimed the poor coal-burner, joyfully. 'Well,
don't beat so vehemently in my bosom, we shall soon have done with
one another. Agreed, Michel, give me the stone and the money, and the
alarum you may take out of its case.'

'I always thought you were a reasonable fellow,' replied Michel, with a
friendly smile; 'come, let us drink another glass, and then I will pay
you the money.'

They went back to the room and sat down again to the wine, drinking one
glass after another till Peter fell into a profound sleep.

He was awakened by the cheerful blast of a post-boy's bugle, and found
himself sitting in a handsome carriage, driving along on a wide road.
On putting his head out he saw in the airy distance the Schwarzwald
lying behind him. At first he could scarcely believe that it was his
own self sitting in the carriage, for even his clothes were different
from those he had worn the day before; but still he had such a distinct
recollection that, giving up at length all these reflections, he
exclaimed, 'I am Peter and no other, that is certain.'

He was astonished that he could not, in the slightest degree, feel
melancholy now that he for the first time departed from his quiet home
and the forests where he had lived so long. He could not even press a
tear out of his eyes or utter a sigh, when he thought of his mother,
who must now feel helpless and wretched; for he was indifferent to
everything: 'Well,' he said, 'tears and sighs, yearning for home and
sadness, proceed indeed from the heart, but thanks to Dutch Michel,
mine is of stone and cold.' Putting his hand upon his breast, he felt
all quiet and no emotion. 'If Michel,' said he, beginning to search the
carriage, 'keeps his word as well with respect to the hundred thousand
florins as he does with the heart, I shall be very glad.' In his search
he found articles of dress of every description he could wish, but
no money. At length, however, he discovered a pocket containing many
thousand thalers in gold, and bills on large houses in all the great
cities. 'Now I have what I want,' thought he, squeezed himself into the
corner of the carriage and went into the wide world.

For two years he travelled about in the world, looked from his carriage
to the right and left up the houses, but whenever he alighted he
looked at nothing except the sign of the hotel, and then ran about
the town to see the finest curiosities. But nothing gladdened him, no
pictures, no building, no music, no dancing, nor anything else had
any interest for, or excited his stone heart; his eyes and ears were
blunted for everything beautiful. No enjoyment was left him but that
which he felt in eating and drinking and sleep; and thus he lived
running through the world without any object, eating for amusement and
sleeping from _ennui_. From time to time he indeed remembered that
he had been more cheerful and happier, when he was poor and obliged
to work for a livelihood. Then he was delighted by every beautiful
prospect in the valley, by music and song, then he had for hours looked
in joyful expectation towards the frugal meal which his mother was to
bring him to the kiln.

When thus reflecting on the past, it seemed very strange to him that
now he could not even laugh, while formerly he had laughed at the
slightest joke. When others laughed, he only distorted his mouth out of
politeness, but his heart did not sympathise with the smile. He felt he
was indeed exceedingly tranquil, but yet not contented. It was not a
yearning after home, nor was it sadness, but a void, desolate feeling,
satiety and a joyless life that at last urged him to his home.

When, after leaving Strasburg, he beheld the dark forest of his native
country; when for the first time he again saw the robust figures, the
friendly and open countenances of the Schwarzwaelder; when the homely,
strong, and deep, but harmonious sounds struck upon his ear, he quickly
put his hand upon his heart, for his blood flowed faster, thinking he
must rejoice and weep at the same time; but how could he be so foolish?
he had a heart of stone, and stones are dead and can neither smile nor
weep.

His first walk was to Michel, who received him with his former
kindness. 'Michel,' said he, 'I have now travelled and seen everything,
but all is dull stuff and I have only found _ennui_. The stone I carry
about with me in my breast, protects me against many things; I never
get angry, am never sad, but neither do I ever feel joyful, and it
seems as if I were only half alive. Can you not infuse a little more
life into my stone heart, or rather, give me back my former heart?
During five-and-twenty years I had become quite accustomed to it, and
though it sometimes did a foolish thing, yet it was, after all, a merry
and cheerful heart.'

The sylvan spirit laughed grimly and sarcastically at this, answering,
'When once you are dead, Peter Munk, it shall not be withheld; then
you shall have back your soft, susceptible heart, and may then feel
whatever comes, whether joy or sorrow. But here, on this side of
the grave, it can never be yours again. Travelled you have indeed,
Peter, but in the way you lived, your travelling could afford you no
satisfaction. Settle now somewhere in the world, build a house, marry,
and employ your capital; you wanted nothing but occupation; being
idle, you felt _ennui_, and now you lay all the blame on this innocent
heart.' Peter saw that Michel was right with respect to idleness, and
therefore proposed to himself to become richer and richer. Michel gave
him another hundred thousand florins, and they parted good friends.

The report soon spread in the Schwarzwald that 'Coal Peter,' or
'gambling Peter,' had returned, and was much richer than before. It
was here as it is always. When he was a beggar he was kicked out of
the inn, but now he had come back wealthy, all shook him by the hand
when he entered on the Sunday afternoon, praised his horse, asked
about his journey, and when he began playing for hard dollars with
fat Hezekiel, he stood as high in their estimation as ever before. He
no longer followed the trade of glass manufacturer, but the timber
trade, though that only in appearance, his chief business being in
corn and money transactions. Half the people of the Schwarzwald became
by degrees his debtors, and he lent money only at 10 per cent, or
sold corn to the poor, who, not being able to pay ready money, had to
purchase it at three times its value. With the bailiff he now stood
on a footing of the closest friendship, and if any one failed paying
Mr. Peter Munk on the very day the money was due, the bailiff with his
beadles came, valued house and property, sold all instantly, and drove
father, mother, and child out into the forest. This became at first
rather troublesome to Peter, for the poor outcasts besieged his doors
in troops, the men imploring indulgence, the women trying to move his
stony heart, and the children moaning for a piece of bread. But getting
a couple of large mastiffs, he soon put an end to this cat's music, as
he used to call it, for he whistled and set them on the beggars, who
dispersed screaming. But the most troublesome person to him was 'the
old woman,' who, however, was no other than Frau Munk, Peter's mother.
She had been reduced to great poverty and distress, when her house and
all was sold, and her son, on returning wealthy, had troubled himself
no more about her. So she came sometimes before his house, supporting
herself on a stick, as she was aged, weak, and infirm; but she no
more ventured to go in, as he had on one occasion driven her out; and
she was much grieved at being obliged to prolong her existence by the
bounties of other people, while her own son might have prepared for
her a comfortable old age. But his cold heart never was moved by the
sight of the pale face and well-known features, by her imploring looks,
outstretched withered hands, and decaying frame. If on a Saturday she
knocked at the door, he put his hand grumbling into his pocket for a
six-batzen piece, wrapped it in a bit of paper, and sent it out by a
servant. He heard her tremulous voice when she thanked him, and wished
him a blessing in this world, he heard her crawl away coughing from
the door, but he thought of nothing except that he had again spent six
batzen for nothing.

At length Peter took it into his head to marry. He knew that every
father in the Schwarzwald would gladly give him his daughter, but he
was fastidious in his choice, for he wished that everybody should
praise his good fortune and understanding in matrimony as well as
in other matters. He therefore rode about the whole forest, looking
out in every direction, but none of the pretty Schwarzwaelder girls
seemed beautiful enough for him. Having finally looked out in vain
for the most beautiful at all the dancing-rooms, he was one day told
the most beautiful and most virtuous girl in the whole forest was the
daughter of a poor wood-cutter. He heard she lived quiet and retired,
was industrious and managed her father's household well, and that
she was never seen at a dancing-room, not even at Whitsuntide or the
Kirchweihfest.[2] When Peter heard of this wonder of the Schwarzwald,
he determined to court her, and, having inquired where the hut was,
rode there. The father of the beautiful Elizabeth received the great
gentleman with astonishment, but was still more amazed when he heard
it was the rich Herr Peter who wished to become his son-in-law.
Thinking all his cares and poverty would now be at an end, he did not
hesitate long in giving his consent, without even asking the beautiful
Elizabeth, and the good child was so dutiful that she became Frau Peter
Munk without opposition.

      [Footnote 2: A great festival in German villages, which comes
      in October or November.]

But the poor girl did not find the happiness she had dreamt of. She
believed she understood the management of a house well, but she could
never give satisfaction to Herr Peter; she had compassion on poor
people, and, as her husband was wealthy, thought it no sin to give a
poor woman a penny, or a dram to a poor aged man. This being one day
found out by Peter, he said to her, with angry look and gruff voice,
'Why do you waste my property upon ragamuffins and vagabonds? Have you
brought anything of your own to the house that you can give away?
With your father's beggar's staff you could not warm a soup, and you
lavish my money like a princess. Once more let me find you out, and
you shall feel my hand.' The beautiful Elizabeth wept in her chamber
over the hard heart of her husband, and often wished herself at home
in her father's poor hut rather than with the rich, but avaricious and
sinful Peter. Alas! had she known that he had a heart of marble and
could neither love her nor anybody else, she would not, perhaps, have
wondered. But as often as a beggar now passed while she was sitting
before the door, and drawing his hat off, asked for alms, she shut her
eyes that she might not behold his distress, and closed her hand tight
that she might not put it involuntarily in her pocket and take out a
kreutzer. This caused a report and obtained an ill name for Elizabeth
in the whole forest, and she was said to be even more miserly than
Peter Munk. But one day Frau Elizabeth was again sitting before the
door spinning and humming an air, for she was cheerful because it was
fine weather, and Peter was taking a ride in the country, when a little
old man came along the road, carrying a large heavy bag, and she heard
him panting at a great distance. Sympathisingly she looked at him and
thought how cruel it was to place such a heavy burden upon an aged man.

In the meanwhile the little man came near, tottering and panting, and
sank under the weight of his bag almost down on the ground just as he
came opposite Frau Elizabeth.

'Oh, have compassion on me, good woman, and give me a drink of water,'
said the little man; 'I can go no farther, and must perish from
exhaustion.'

'But you ought not to carry such heavy loads at your age,' said she.

'No more I should if I were not obliged to work as carrier from poverty
and to prolong my life,' replied he. 'Ah, such rich ladies as you know
not how painful poverty is, and how strengthening a fresh draught would
be in this hot weather.'

On hearing this she immediately ran into the house, took a pitcher from
the shelf and filled it with water; but she had only gone a few paces
back to take it to him, when, seeing the little man sit on his bag
miserable and wretched, she felt pity for him, and recollecting that
her husband was from home, she put down the pitcher, took a cup, filled
it with wine, put a loaf of rye bread on it, and gave it to the poor
old man. 'There,' she said, 'a draught of wine will do you more good
than water, as you are very old; but do not drink so hastily, and eat
some bread with it.'

The little man looked at her in astonishment till the big tears came
into his eyes; he drank and said, 'I have grown old, but have seen few
people who were so compassionate and knew how to spend their gifts so
handsomely and cordially as you do, Frau Elizabeth. But you will be
blessed for it on earth; such a heart will not remain unrequited.'

'No, and she shall have her reward on the spot,' cried a terrible
voice, and looking round they found it was Herr Peter, with a face as
red as scarlet. 'Even my choicest wine you waste upon beggars, and give
my own cup to the lips of vagabonds? There, take your reward.' His wife
fell prostrate before him and begged his forgiveness, but the heart of
stone knew no pity, and flourishing the whip he held in his hand, he
struck her with the ebony handle on her beautiful forehead with such
vehemence that she sank lifeless into the arms of the old man. When
he saw what he had done it was almost as if he repented of the deed
immediately; he stooped to see whether there was yet life in her, but
the little man said in a well-known voice, 'Spare your trouble, Peter;
she was the most beautiful and lovely flower in the Schwarzwald, but
you have crushed it and never again will see it bloom.'

Now the blood fled from Peter's cheek and he said, 'It is you, then,
Mr. Schatzhauser? well, what is done is done then, and I suppose this
was to happen. But I trust you will not inform against me.'

'Wretch,' replied the Little Glass Man, 'what would it profit me if I
brought your mortal part to the gallows? It is not earthly tribunals
you have to fear, but another and more severe one; for you have sold
your soul to the evil one.'

'And if I have sold my heart,' cried Peter, 'it is no one's fault but
yours and your deceitful treasures'; your malicious spirit brought me
to ruin; you forced me to seek help from another, and upon you lies the
whole responsibility.' He had scarcely uttered these words when the
little man grew enormously tall and broad, his eyes it is said became
as large as soup plates, and his mouth like a heated furnace vomiting
flames. Peter fell upon his knees, and his stone heart did not protect
his limbs from trembling like an aspen leaf. The sylvan spirit seized
him, as if with vultures' claws, by the nape of the neck, whirled him
round as the storm whirls the dry leaves, and dashed him to the ground
so that his ribs cracked within him. 'You worm of dust,' he cried, in
a voice roaring like thunder, 'I could crush you if I wished, for you
have trespassed against the lord of the forest; but for the sake of
this dead woman that fed and refreshed me, I give you a week's respite.
If you do not repent I shall return and crush your bones, and you will
go hence in your sins.'

It was already evening when some men passing by saw the wealthy Peter
Munk lying on the ground. They turned him over and over to see whether
there was still life in him, but for a long time looked in vain.
At length one of them went into the house, fetched some water and
sprinkled some on his face. Peter fetched a deep sigh and opened his
eyes, looked for a long time around, and asked for his wife Elizabeth,
but no one had seen her. He thanked the men for their assistance,
crawled into his house, searched everywhere, but in vain, and found
what he imagined to be a dream a sad reality. As he was now quite alone
strange thoughts came into his mind; he did not indeed fear anything,
for his heart was quite cold; but when he thought of the death of his
wife his own forcibly came to his mind, and he reflected how laden
he should go hence--heavily laden with the tears of the poor; with
thousands of the curses of those who could not soften his heart; with
the lamentations of the wretched on whom he had set his dogs; with the
silent despair of his mother; with the blood of the beautiful and good
Elizabeth; and yet he could not even so much as give an account of her
to her poor old father, should he come and ask, 'Where is my daughter,
your wife?' How then could he give an account to Him--to Him to whom
belong all woods, all lakes, all mountains, and the life of men?

This tormented him in his dreams at night, and he was awoke every
moment by a sweet voice crying to him, 'Peter, get a warmer heart!'
And when he was awoke he quickly closed his eyes again, for the
voice uttering this warning to him could be none other but that of
his Elizabeth. The following day he went into the inn to divert his
thoughts, and there met his friend, fat Hezekiel. He sat down by him
and they commenced talking on various topics, of the fine weather,
of war, of taxes, and lastly, also of death, and how such and such a
person had died suddenly. Now Peter asked him what he thought about
death, and how it would be after death. Hezekiel replied, 'That the
body was buried, but that the soul went either up to heaven or down to
hell.'

'Then the heart also is buried?' asked Peter, anxiously.

'To be sure that also is buried.'

'But supposing one has no longer a heart?' continued Peter.

Hezekiel gave him a terrible look at these words. 'What do you mean by
that? Do you wish to rally me? Think you I have no heart?'

'Oh, heart enough, as firm as stone,' replied Peter.

Hezekiel looked in astonishment at him, glancing round at the same time
to see whether they were overheard, and then said, 'Whence do you know
that? Or does your own perhaps no longer beat within your breast?'

'It beats no longer, at least, not in my breast,' replied Peter Munk.
'But tell me, as you know what I mean, how will it be with our hearts?'

'Why does that concern you, my good fellow?' answered Hezekiel,
laughing. 'Why, you have plenty here upon earth, and that is
sufficient. Indeed, the comfort of our cold hearts is that no fear at
such thoughts befalls us.'

'Very true, but still one cannot help thinking of it, and though I know
no fear now, still I well remember how I was terrified at hell when yet
an innocent little boy.'

'Well, it will not exactly go well with us,' said Hezekiel; 'I once
asked a schoolmaster about it, who told me that the hearts are weighed
after death to ascertain the weight of their sins. The light ones rise,
the heavy sink, and methinks our stone hearts will weigh heavy enough.'

'Alas, true,' replied Peter; 'I often feel uncomfortable that my heart
is so devoid of sympathy, and so indifferent when I think of such
things.' So ended their conversation.

But the following night Peter again heard the well-known voice
whispering into his ear five or six times, 'Peter, get a warmer heart!'
He felt no repentance at having killed his wife, but when he told the
servants that she had gone on a journey, he always thought within
himself, where is she gone to? Six days had thus passed away, and he
still heard the voice at night, and still thought of the sylvan spirit
and his terrible menace; but on the seventh morning he jumped up from
his couch and cried, 'Well, then, I will see whether I can get a warmer
heart, for the cold stone in my breast makes my life only tedious and
desolate.' He quickly put on his best dress, mounted his horse, and
rode towards the Tannenbuehl.

Having arrived at that part where the trees stand thickest, he
dismounted, and went with a quick pace towards the summit of the hill,
and as he stood before the thick pine he repeated the following verse:

   'Keeper of wealth in the forest of pine,
    Hundreds of years are surely thine:
    Thine is the tall pine's dwelling-place--
    Those born on Sunday see thy face.'

The Little Glass Man appeared, not looking friendly and kindly as
formerly, but gloomy and sad; he wore a little coat of black glass, and
a long glass crape hung floating from his hat, and Peter well knew for
whom he mourned.

'What do you want with me, Peter Munk?' asked he with a stern voice.

'I have one more wish, Mr. Schatzhauser,' replied Peter, with his eyes
cast down.

'Can hearts of stone still wish?' said the former. 'You have all your
corrupt mind can need, and I could scarcely fulfil your wish.'

'But you have promised to grant me three wishes, and one I have still
left.'

'I can refuse it if it is foolish,' continued the spirit; 'but come,
let me hear what you wish.'

'Well, take the dead stone out of me, and give me a living heart,' said
Peter.

'Have I made the bargain about the heart with you?' asked the Little
Glass Man. 'Am I the Dutch Michel, who gives wealth and cold hearts? It
is of him you must seek to regain your heart.'

'Alas! he will never give it back,' said Peter.

'Bad as you are, yet I feel pity for you,' continued the little man,
after some consideration; 'and as your wish is not foolish, I cannot
at least refuse my help. Hear then. You can never recover your heart
by force, only by stratagem, but probably you will find it without
difficulty; for Michel will ever be stupid Michel, although he fancies
himself very shrewd. Go straightway to him, and do as I tell you.' He
now instructed Peter fully, and gave him a small cross of pure glass,
saying, 'He cannot touch your life and will let you go when you hold
this before him and repeat a prayer. When you have obtained your wish
return to me.'

Peter took the cross, impressed all the words on his memory, and
started on his way to the Dutchman Michel's residence; there he called
his name three times and immediately the giant stood before him.

'You have slain your wife?' he asked, with a grim laugh. 'I should
have done the same; she wasted your property on beggars; but you will
be obliged to leave the country for some time; and I suppose you want
money and have come to get it?'

'You have hit it,' replied Peter; 'and pray let it be a large sum, for
it is a long way to America.'

Michel leading the way, they went into his cottage; there he opened a
chest containing much money and took out whole rolls of gold. While he
was counting it on the table Peter said, 'You're a wag, Michel. You
have told me a fib, saying that I had a stone in my breast, and that
you had my heart.'

'And is it not so then?' asked Michel, astonished. 'Do you feel your
heart? Is it not cold as ice? Have you any fear or sorrow? Do you
repent of anything?'

'You have only made my heart to cease beating, but I still have it in
my breast, and so has Hezekiel, who told me you had deceived us both.
You are not the man who, unperceived and without danger, could tear the
heart from the breast; it would require witchcraft on your part.'

'But I assure you,' cried Michel angrily, 'you and Hezekiel and all the
rich people, who have sold themselves to me, have hearts as cold as
yours, and their real hearts I have here in my chamber.'

'Ah! how glibly you can tell lies,' said Peter, laughing; 'you must
tell that to another to be believed; think you I have not seen such
tricks by dozens in my journeys? Your hearts in the chamber are made of
wax; you're a rich fellow I grant, but you are no magician.'

Now the giant was enraged and burst open the chamber door, saying,
'Come in and read all the labels, and look yonder is Peter Munk's
heart; do you see how it writhes? Can that too be of wax?'

'For all that, it is of wax,' replied Peter. 'A genuine heart does
not writhe like that. I have mine still in my breast. No! you are no
magician.'

'But I will prove it to you,' cried the former angrily. 'You shall feel
that it is your heart.' He took it, opened Peter's waistcoat, took
the stone from his breast, and held it up. Then taking the heart,
he breathed on it, and set it carefully in its proper place, and
immediately Peter felt how it beat, and could rejoice again. 'How do
you feel now?' asked Michel, smiling.

'True enough, you were right,' replied Peter, taking carefully the
little cross from his pocket. 'I should never have believed such things
could be done.'

'You see I know something of witchcraft, do I not? But, come, I will
now replace the stone again.'

'Gently, Herr Michel,' cried Peter, stepping backwards, and holding up
the cross, 'mice are caught with bacon, and this time you have been
deceived,' and immediately he began to repeat the prayers that came
into his mind.

Now Michel became less and less, fell to the ground, and writhed like a
worm, groaning and moaning, and all the hearts round began to beat, and
became convulsed, so that it sounded like a clock-maker's workshop.

Peter was terrified, his mind was quite disturbed; he ran from the
house, and, urged by the anguish of the moment, climbed up a steep
rock, for he heard Michel get up, stamping and raving, and denouncing
curses on him. When he reached the top, he ran towards the Tannenbuehl;
a dreadful thunderstorm came on; lightning flashed around him,
splitting the trees, but he reached the precincts of the Little Glass
Man in safety.

His heart beat joyfully--only because it _did_ beat; but now he looked
back with horror on his past life, as he did on the thunderstorm
that was destroying the beautiful forest on his right and left. He
thought of his wife, a beautiful, good woman, whom he had murdered
from avarice; he appeared to himself an outcast from mankind, and wept
bitterly as he reached the hill of the Little Glass Man.

The Schatzhauser was sitting under a pine-tree, and was smoking a small
pipe; but he looked more serene than before.

'Why do you weep, Peter?' asked he; 'have you not recovered your heart?
Is the cold one still in your breast?'

'Alas! sir,' sighed Peter, 'when I still carried about with me the cold
stony heart, I never wept, my eyes were as dry as the ground in July;
but now my old heart will almost break with what I have done. I have
driven my debtors to misery, set the dogs on the sick and poor, and you
yourself know how my whip fell upon _her_ beautiful forehead.'

'Peter, you were a great sinner,' said the little man. 'Money and
idleness corrupted you, until your heart turned to stone, and no
longer knew joy, sorrow, repentance, or compassion. But repentance
reconciles; and if I only knew that you were truly sorry for your past
life, it might yet be in my power to do something for you.'

'I wish nothing more,' replied Peter, dropping his head sorrowfully.
'It is all over with me, I can no more rejoice in my lifetime; what
shall I do thus alone in the world? My mother will never pardon me for
what I have done to her, and I have perhaps brought her to the grave,
monster that I am! Elizabeth, my wife, too,--rather strike me dead,
Herr Schatzhauser, then my wretched life will end at once.'

'Well,' replied the little man, 'if you wish nothing else, you can have
it, so my axe is at hand.' He quietly took his pipe from his mouth,
knocked the ashes out, and put it into his pocket. Then rising slowly,
he went behind the pines. But Peter sat down weeping in the grass; his
life had no longer any value for him, and he patiently awaited the
deadly blow. After a short time he heard gentle steps behind him, and
thought, 'Now he is coming.'

'Look up once more, Peter Munk,' cried the little man. He wiped the
tears from his eyes and looked up, and beheld his mother, and Elizabeth
his wife, who kindly gazed on him. Then he jumped up joyfully, saying,
'You are not dead, then, Elizabeth, nor you, mother; and have you
forgiven me?'

'They will forgive you,' said the Little Glass Man, 'because you feel
true repentance, and all shall be forgotten. Go home now, to your
father's hut, and be a charcoal-burner as before; if you are active
and honest, you will do credit to your trade, and your neighbours will
love and esteem you more than if you possessed ten tons of gold.' Thus
saying, the Little Glass Man left them. The three praised and blessed
him, and went home.

The splendid house of wealthy Peter stood no longer; it was struck by
lightning, and burnt to the ground, with all its treasures. But they
were not far from his father's hut, and thither they went, without
caring much for their great loss. But what was their surprise when they
reached the hut; it was changed into a handsome farmhouse, and all in
it was simple, but good and cleanly.

'This is the Little Glass Man's doing,' cried Peter.

'How beautiful!' said Frau Elizabeth; 'and here I feel more at home
than in the larger house, with many servants.'

Henceforth Peter Munk became an industrious and honest man. He was
content with what he had, carried on his trade cheerfully, and thus it
was that he became wealthy by his own energy, and respected and beloved
in the whole forest. He no longer quarrelled with his wife, he honoured
his mother, and relieved the poor who came to his door. When, after
twelve months, Frau Elizabeth presented him with a beautiful little
boy, Peter went to the Tannenbuehl, and repeated the verse as before.
But the Little Glass Man did not show himself.

'Mr. Schatzhauser,' he cried loudly, 'only listen to me. I wish nothing
but to ask you to stand godfather to my little son.' But he received
no answer, and only a short gust of wind rushed through the pines, and
cast a few cones on the grass.

'Then I will take these as a remembrance, as you will not show
yourself,' cried Peter, and he put them in his pocket, and returned
home. But when he took off his jacket, and his mother turned out the
pockets before putting it away, four large rolls of money fell out; and
when they opened them, they found them all good and new Baden dollars,
and not one counterfeit, and these were the intended godfather's gift
for little Peter, from the little man in the Tannenbuehl. Thus they
lived on, quietly and cheerfully; and many a time Peter Munk, when
gray-headed, would say, 'It is indeed better to be content with little,
than to have wealth and a cold heart.'

  C. A. F.




[Illustration]

THE STORY OF THE CALIPH STORK

  This story is from the collection called _The Caravan_, and is told
  by the traveller Selim.


The Caliph Chasid of Bagdad was sitting one fine summer afternoon
comfortably on his divan; he had slept a little, for it was a sultry
day, and he looked quite refreshed after his nap. He smoked a long
rosewood pipe, sipped now and then a little coffee which a slave poured
out for him, and stroked his beard contentedly whenever he had enjoyed
it. In short, it could be seen at a glance that the Caliph felt very
comfortable. At such a time it was easy to approach him, as he was
very good-tempered and affable, wherefore his Grand Vizier Mansor
visited him every day about this time. This afternoon he came as usual,
looking, however, very grave, a rare thing for him. The Caliph took the
pipe out of his mouth and said: 'Why dost thou make so grave a face,
Grand Vizier?' The Grand Vizier folded his arms across his breast,
bowed to his master and answered: 'Master! whether I assume a grave
appearance I know not, but down below in the palace stands a pedlar who
has such fine wares that it vexes me that I have no money to spare.'

The Caliph, who had long desired to rejoice the heart of his Grand
Vizier, ordered his black slave to fetch the pedlar. In a few moments
the slave returned with him. He was a stout little man, swarthy in
the face, and dressed in rags. He carried a box in which he had all
sorts of wares, pearls, and rings, pistols with richly inlaid stocks,
goblets, and combs. The Caliph and his Vizier inspected everything, and
the Caliph at last bought for himself and Vizier a pair of pistols, and
for the Vizier's wife a comb. As the pedlar was about to close his box
again, the Caliph caught sight of a little drawer, and asked whether
it also contained some wares. The pedlar pulled out the drawer, and
exhibited a snuff-box containing a black powder and a piece of paper
with peculiar writing on it, which neither the Caliph nor Mansor could
read. 'These things were given to me one day by a merchant who found
them in the streets of Mecca,' said the pedlar. 'I know not what they
are; but you may have them for a small sum, for they are of no use
to me.' The Caliph, who was very fond of having old manuscripts in
his library, though unable to read them, bought both paper and box
and dismissed the pedlar. Still he thought he would like to know what
the writing meant, and asked the Vizier if he did not know anybody
who might decipher it. 'Most gracious lord and master,' answered the
latter, 'near the Great Mosque lives a man called Selim the learned;
he knows all languages. Send for him; perhaps he can explain these
mysterious signs.'

The learned Selim soon arrived. 'Selim,' said the Caliph to him,
'Selim, it is said thou art very learned. Just look at this writing
whether thou canst read it; if thou canst read it, thou gettest a new
robe of honour from me; if thou canst not, thou gettest twelve boxes on
the ears and twenty-five lashes on the soles of thy feet, for having
been called Selim the learned without cause.' Selim bowed and said:
'Thy will be done, O Master!' For a long time he looked at the writing;
suddenly, however, he exclaimed: 'That is Latin, O Master, or let me be
hung!' 'Say what it means,' demanded the Caliph, 'if it is Latin.'

Selim began to translate: 'Man who findeth this, praise Allah for
his goodness. He who takes a pinch of this powder in this box and
therewith says "Mutabor," can change himself into any animal, and also
understand the language of animals. If he afterwards wish to resume his
human form, let him bow thrice to the East and say the same word. But
beware when thou art changed that thou laughest not, or the magic word
will depart from thy memory for ever, and thou remainest a beast.'

When Selim the learned had read this, the Caliph was pleased beyond
measure. He made the learned man swear not to reveal the secret to
any one, presented him with a splendid robe, and dismissed him. Then
turning to his Grand Vizier he said: 'This I call making a bargain,
Mansor! How glad I am at being able to become an animal! Come to me
to-morrow morning. We will then go together into the fields, take a
pinch out of the box, and then listen to what is said in the air and
the water, in wood and field.'

Next morning, scarcely had the Caliph Chasid breakfasted and dressed
himself, when the Grand Vizier appeared as ordered, to accompany him on
his walk. The Caliph put the box with the magic powder in his girdle,
and having ordered his suite to remain behind, he and the Grand Vizier
set out alone on the journey. They first passed through the large
gardens of the Caliph, but looked in vain for any living thing on which
to try the experiment. The Vizier at last proposed to pursue their
journey to a pond, where he had often seen many animals, especially
storks, whose grave manners and clappings had always excited his
attention.

The Caliph approved of the Vizier's proposal, and went with him towards
the pond. Having arrived there, they saw a stork soberly pacing up
and down looking for frogs, and chattering something now and then to
itself. At the same moment they saw far up in the sky another stork
hovering in this direction.

'I wager my beard, most gracious Master,' said the Grand Vizier, 'this
long-legged pair are now having a pleasant talk. How would it be if we
turned into storks?'

'Wisely spoken,' replied the Caliph. 'But first, let us consider how we
may become men again. It is easy enough! If we bow thrice to the East,
and say Mutabor, I shall be Caliph and thou Vizier. But for heaven's
sake no laughing, or we are lost.'

While the Caliph spoke thus, he saw the other stork hovering over their
heads, and slowly alighting on the ground. Quickly he snatched the box
from his girdle, took a hearty pinch, gave the box to the Grand Vizier,
who did the like, and both exclaimed 'Mutabor!'

Then their legs shrivelled and became thin and red, the beautiful
yellow slippers of the Caliph and those of his Vizier changed into ugly
storks' feet, their arms grew into wings, their necks shot up from
their shoulders and reached a yard in length, their beards vanished,
and soft feathers covered their bodies.

'You have a pretty beak, Mr. Grand Vizier,' said the Caliph after a
surprised silence. 'By the beard of the Prophet, I have never seen such
things in my life!' 'Thanks humbly,' replied the Vizier, bowing; 'but
if I might dare say so, I should avow that your Highness looks almost
handsomer as a stork than a Caliph. But come, if it pleases you, let us
listen to our comrades yonder and hear if we really speak storkish.'

Meanwhile the other stork had reached the ground. It cleaned its feet
with its beak, settled its feathers, and walked up to the first stork.
The two new storks hastened to get near them, and to their surprise
heard the following conversation: 'Good morning, Madam Longlegs! You
are early on the meadows.' 'Thank you, dear Clapper-beak! I have been
to get a little breakfast. Would you like to have a quarter of a lizard
or a little leg of a frog?' 'Much obliged; but I have no appetite this
morning. Besides, I have come upon quite a different errand on the
meadow. I am to dance before my father's guests to-day, and I want to
practise a little quietly.'

Thereupon the young stork began to caper about the field in peculiar
movements. The Caliph and Mansor watched her, very much surprised. But
when she stood on one leg in a picturesque attitude, and fluttered
her wings to increase the effect, neither of them could resist;
laughter without stopping burst from their beaks, from which they only
recovered a long time afterwards. The Caliph was the first to recover
self-possession: 'That was a joke,' he exclaimed, 'which cannot be
bought for gold. What a pity the stupid animals should have been scared
by our laughter, else they would also have sung, to be sure!'

But now it occurred to the Grand Vizier that laughing during the
enchantment was forbidden. He therefore communicated his fears to the
Caliph. 'By Mecca and Medina, that would be a bad joke if I were to
remain a stork! Do bethink thee of the stupid word; I cannot recall it.'

'Three times we must bow to the East and say: Mu--Mu--Mu.'

They turned towards the East and kept on bowing continually till their
beaks nearly touched the ground. But, alas! the magic word had escaped
them, and often as the Caliph bowed, and eagerly as his Vizier added
Mu--Mu--, yet every recollection of it had gone, and the poor Chasid
and his Vizier were storks, and remained so.

Sadly the enchanted ones wandered through the fields, not knowing what
to do in their misery. They could not discard their stork-plumage,
nor could they return into the town and make themselves known, for
who would have believed that a stork was the Caliph? and even if one
had believed it, would the inhabitants of Bagdad accept a stork for a
Caliph?

Thus they wandered about for several days, living miserably on the
fruits of the field, which they could not swallow very well on account
of their long beaks. As for lizards and frogs, their stomachs could not
relish such food; besides, they were afraid of spoiling their appetite
with such tit-bits. Their only pleasure in their sad situation was that
they could fly, and thus they flew often to the high roofs of Bagdad to
see what was going on in the town.

During the first days they remarked great uneasiness and grief in the
streets. But on the fourth day of their enchantment, while sitting
on the roof of the Caliph's palace, they saw down in the street
below a splendid array. The drums and fifes played; a man dressed in
a gold-embroidered scarlet mantle rode a richly-caparisoned horse,
surrounded by a gaudy train of servants. Half Bagdad rushed about him,
and everybody shouted: 'Hail, Mizra! the ruler of Bagdad!'

Then the two storks upon the roof of the palace looked at each other,
and the Caliph Chasid said: 'Dost thou guess now why I am enchanted,
Grand Vizier? This Mizra is the son of my mortal enemy, the mighty
Magician Kaschnur, who in an evil hour swore revenge on me. But still
I do not despair. Come with me, thou faithful companion of my misery;
we will betake ourselves to the grave of the Prophet; perhaps at that
sacred shrine the magic may be dispelled.'

They rose from the roof of the palace and flew towards Medina.

They did not succeed very well in flying, for as yet they had had very
little practice. 'O Master!' sighed the Grand Vizier after a couple of
hours' flight, 'with your leave I can hold out no longer, you fly too
swiftly for me! Besides, it is dark already, and we should do well to
seek shelter for the night.'

Chasid listened to the request of his servant; and seeing beneath them
in the valley some ruins which promised a lodging, they flew towards
it. The place where they had settled for the night seemed formerly
to have been a castle. Splendid pillars rose from among the ruins;
several chambers which were still tolerably preserved testified
to the bygone splendour of the building. Chasid and his companion
strolled through the passages in search of some dry nook, when suddenly
the stork Mansor stopped. 'Lord and Master,' he whispered below his
breath, 'is it not foolish for a Grand Vizier, and still more so for
a stork to fear ghosts? Still, I feel very uneasy, for close by some
one sighed and groaned quite distinctly.' The Caliph now also stopped,
and heard quite plainly a low sob, which seemed rather to come from a
man than an animal. Full of anxiety, he wanted to go towards the spot
whence proceeded the sound of sorrow; but the Vizier seized him by the
wing with his beak and begged him not to rush upon new and unknown
perils. But all was of no avail. The Caliph, who bore a brave heart
beneath his stork plumage, tore himself away with the loss of some
feathers, and ran towards a gloomy passage. Soon he came to a door
which was ajar, and behind which he heard distinct sighs and moans.
He pushed open the door with his beak, but stopped on the threshold
in astonishment. In the ruined chamber, which was only dimly lighted
by a little iron-barred window, he saw a great night-owl sitting on
the ground. Heavy tears rolled out of its large round eyes, and with
a hoarse voice it uttered its moans from its hooked beak. But when it
saw the Caliph and his Vizier, who had come up in the meantime, it
gave a loud cry of joy. Elegantly it wiped the tears from its eye with
its brown-flecked wings, and to the great amazement of both, it cried
in good human Arabic: 'Welcome, ye storks; you are a good omen to me
of my deliverance, for through storks I am to be lucky, as it was once
foretold me.'

When the Caliph had recovered from his astonishment, he bowed with
his long neck, set his thin legs in a graceful position, and said:
'Night-owl! from thy words I believe that I see a fellow-sufferer.
But alas! thy hope of deliverance through us is in vain. Thou wilt
recognise our helplessness in hearing our tale.' The night-owl begged
him to relate it, and the Caliph commenced to relate what we already
know.

When the Caliph had related his story to the owl she thanked him, and
said: 'Now also listen to my tale, and learn how I am no less unlucky
than you are yourself. My father is the king of the Indies; I, his
only unhappy daughter, am called Lusa. That Magician Kaschnur, who has
enchanted you, has also brought misfortune upon me. One day he came to
my father and asked me in marriage for his son Mizra. But my father,
who is a fiery man, had him thrown downstairs. The wretch knew how to
approach me again under another shape, and one day, while I was taking
some refreshments in my garden, he administered to me, disguised as a
slave, a draught, which changed me into this hideous shape. Fainting
from fear, he brought me hither and shouted with a terrible voice into
my ear: "Here shalt thou remain, detestable, abhorred even by beast,
to thy end, or till one of free will, himself in this horrid form,
asks thee to be his wife. And thus I revenge myself on thee and on thy
haughty father."

'Since then many months have passed. Lonely and sadly I live as a
recluse within these ruins, shunned by the world, a scarecrow even to
beasts: beautiful nature is hidden from me, for I am blind by daylight,
and only when the moon pours her wan light over these ruins does the
obscuring veil drop from my eyes.'

When the owl had finished she again wiped her eyes with her wings, for
the story of her woes had moved her to tears.

The Caliph, by the story of the Princess, was plunged into deep
thought. 'If I am not mistaken,' said he, 'there is between our
misfortunes a secret connection; but where can I find the key to this
riddle?' The owl answered him: 'O Master! such is also my belief; for
once in my infancy a wise woman foretold that a stork should bring
me a great fortune, and I know one way by which perhaps we may free
ourselves.' The Caliph was very much surprised, and asked what way
she meant. 'The enchanter who has made us both unhappy,' said she,
'comes once every month to these ruins. Not far from here is a hall
where he holds orgies with numerous companions. Often have I spied
them there. They then relate to one another their vile deeds. Perhaps
he may pronounce the magic word which you have forgotten.' 'O dearest
Princess,' exclaimed the Caliph, 'say when comes he, and where is the
hall?'

The owl was silent a moment, and then said: 'You must not take it ill,
but only on one condition can I fulfil your wish.' 'Speak out, speak
out,' cried Chasid. 'Command all, everything of me.'

'It is this, that I may also become free, which can only be if one of
you offer me his hand.'

The stork seemed somewhat taken aback at this proposition, and the
Caliph beckoned to his servant to go out with him a little.

'Grand Vizier,' said the Caliph outside, 'this is a sorry bargain, but
you might take her.' 'Indeed!' answered the Grand Vizier; 'that my wife
when I come home may scratch out my eyes? Besides, I am an old man,
while you are still young and single, and could better give your hand
to a young and fair Princess.'

'That is just it,' sighed the Caliph, whilst sadly drooping his wings.
'Who then has told thee that she is young and fair? It is buying a pig
in a poke.'

They consulted one with the other for a long time. At last when the
Caliph saw that his Vizier would rather remain a stork than wed the
owl, he resolved to fulfil the condition himself. The owl was immensely
pleased. She confessed to them that they could not have come at a more
favourable time, for the enchanters were very likely to assemble that
night.

She quitted the chamber with the storks to lead them to the hall.
They went a long way through a gloomy passage; at length, through a
half-fallen wall, gleamed a bright light. Having arrived there, the
owl advised them to remain perfectly quiet. They could, through the
gap near which they stood, overlook a great hall. It was supported all
round by pillars, and splendidly decked. Many brilliant coloured lamps
replaced the light of day. In the centre of the hall was a round table,
covered with many and choice meats. Round this table was a couch, on
which sat eight men. In one of these men the stork recognised the
pedlar who had sold them the magic powder. His neighbour asked him to
relate his latest deeds. Amongst others he also related the story of
the Caliph and his Vizier.

'What sort of word hast thou given them?' asked another enchanter. 'A
very difficult Latin one, namely, "Mutabor."'

When the storks heard this at their hole in the wall they were nearly
beside themselves with joy. They ran on their long legs so quickly
to the threshold of the ruins that the owl could hardly follow them.
There the Caliph addressed the owl with emotion: 'Deliverer of my life
and of the life of my friend, accept me in eternal gratitude for thy
spouse for that which thou hast done for us.' He then turned to the
East. Thrice the storks bowed their long necks to the sun, which just
then was rising behind the mountains. 'Mutabor!' they exclaimed; and
straightway they were changed, and in the great joy of their new-sent
life master and servant fell into each other's arms laughing and
crying. But who can describe their astonishment on turning round? A
lovely lady, grandly dressed, stood before them. Smiling, she gave her
hand to the Caliph. 'Do you no longer recognise your night-owl?' she
said. It was she. The Caliph was so charmed with her beauty and grace
that he exclaimed: 'My greatest fortune was that of having been a
stork.'

The three now travelled together towards Bagdad. The Caliph found in
his clothes not only the box with the magic powder, but also his
purse. He therefore bought in the nearest village what was needful for
their journey, and so they soon came to the gates of Bagdad. There
the arrival of the Caliph caused much surprise. People had believed
him dead, and they therefore were highly pleased to have again their
beloved ruler.

All the more, however, burned their hatred towards the impostor Mizra.
They entered the palace, and took prisoner the old enchanter and his
son. The Caliph sent the old man to the same chamber in the ruins that
the Princess had lived in when an owl, and had him hanged there. To the
son, who knew nothing of his father's art, the Caliph gave the choice
whether he would die or take snuff. And when he chose the latter, the
Grand Vizier handed him the box. A good strong pinch and the magic word
of the Caliph changed him into a stork. The Caliph had him shut up in
an iron cage and placed in his garden.

Long and happy lived the Caliph Chasid with his wife the Princess. His
most pleasant hours were always those when the Grand Vizier visited him
during the afternoon, when they very frequently spoke of their stork
adventures, and when the Caliph was very jovial he amused himself with
imitating the Grand Vizier when he was a stork. He strutted up and
down the chamber with stiff legs, clapped, fluttered his arms as though
they were wings, and showed how vainly the latter had turned to the
East crying all the while Mu--Mu. This entertainment was at all times
a great pleasure to Madam Caliph and her children; but when the Caliph
kept on clapping a little too long, and nodded, and cried Mu--Mu,
then the Vizier threatened him, smiling, that he would communicate to
Madam Caliph what had been discussed outside the door of the Night Owl
Princess.




[Illustration]

THE STORY OF LITTLE MUCK

  This story is from the same collection, and is told by Muley, a
  merry young merchant.


There lived at Nicea, my dear native town, a man named Little Muck.
I can still remember him very well, although I was very young then,
especially as I once received from my father a sound thrashing for his
sake. Little Muck was already an old man when I knew him, and only
three or four feet high. He presented a most extraordinary appearance,
and although his body was stunted and thin, yet he had a head which was
much larger and thicker than that of other people. He lived quite alone
in a large house, and acted as his own cook; people, moreover, in the
town would never have known whether he was alive or dead, for he only
went out once a month, were it not that at mid-day a powerful steam
arose from his house; but he was often seen during the evening walking
up and down his roof, and people in the street thought that his immense
head only promenaded on the roof. My playmates and myself were wicked
youngsters, always ready enough to mock people and laugh at them, and
whenever Little Muck came out it was a holiday for us. On the day he
went out we met before his house, waiting for his appearance. When the
door opened, and his immense head, together with a much larger turban,
peeped out, followed by his little body, dressed in a shabby little
cloak, wide trousers, and a broad girdle, to which was attached a long
dagger of such an immense size that people did not know whether Muck
was fastened to the dagger or the dagger to him--when he came out, the
air resounded with our loud cries of joy; we threw up our caps into the
air and danced like maniacs round about him. Little Muck, nevertheless,
bowed to us with a grave and dignified air, and marched down the street
with slow steps, dragging his feet as he walked, for he wore such large
and broad slippers as I had never seen before.

We boys ran after him always shouting: 'Little Muck! Little Muck!' We
had also made a little rhyme about him which we sang in honour of him
now and then, namely:

   'Little Muck, Little Muck,
    What an awful fright you look!
    In a big house you reside,
    Only once a month outside.
    You are a plucky dwarf, but still
    Your head is almost like a hill;
    Do but just turn round and look,
    Run and catch us, Little Muck!'

We had often played this joke, and I must confess to my shame mine was
the worst. I often pulled him by his cloak, and once I planted my foot
on the end of his great slippers from behind, so that he fell down.
This at first caused me great delight, but I soon ceased to laugh when
I saw Little Muck go towards my father's house. He really entered it,
and remained in it for some time. I secreted myself behind the door
and saw Little Muck come out again, accompanied by my father, who held
him respectfully by the hand, and took leave of him at the door, after
many bows. I felt very uneasy, and remained for a long time in my
hiding-place; but at length hunger, which I dreaded still more than the
thrashing, forced me to come out, and, shame-faced and with bent head,
I presented myself before my father. 'I hear you have insulted the good
Muck?' he said in a very stern voice. 'I want to tell you the history
of this Muck, and I am certain you will never mock him again; in any
case, however, before or after, you will get your punishment.' This
punishment meant twenty-five strokes, which he counted with only
too great an exactness. He took his long pipe, screwed off the amber
mouth-piece, and acquitted himself more vigorously of the task than he
had ever done before.

  [Illustration: _From a wash drawing by James Pryde

  _"I hear you have insulted the good Muck" he said in a very stern
  voice_ (page 102)]

After having received the five-and-twenty strokes, my father ordered me
to pay attention, and related to me the story of Little Muck.

The father of Little Muck, whose real name was Mukrah, was a
distinguished but poor man here in Nicea. He, too, lived in almost as
solitary a manner as his son does at present. Unfortunately, he did
not like him, because his dwarfed stature made him ashamed of the boy,
and consequently he had him brought up in ignorance. Little Muck, when
in his sixteenth year, was still a frolicsome child; and his father, a
stern man, continually reproached him with still being so childish, and
also on account of his ignorance and stupidity.

The old man, however, had a bad fall one day, in consequence of which
he died, leaving behind little Muck, poor and ignorant. His harsh
relatives, to whom the deceased owed more than he was able to pay,
turned the poor little fellow out of the house, and advised him to
go abroad to seek his fortune. Little Muck said that he was already
prepared for the journey; and only asked to be allowed to take his
father's clothes with him, to which they agreed. His father had been a
tall, powerful man, and therefore his clothes did not fit him. Muck,
however, soon devised an expedient; he cut off all that was superfluous
with respect to length, and then donned the garments. He seemed,
however, to have forgotten the curtailing of them in their amplitude,
hence his whimsical attire, which he wears to this day; the large
turban, the broad girdle, the wide trousers, the little blue cloak,
all these are heirlooms of his father, which he has always worn; his
father's long Damascus dagger he planted in his girdle, and with a
little staff in his hand, he set out on his journey.

Joyfully he walked along all day, for he had set out to seek his
fortune. If he saw a bit of broken glass on the road glittering in the
sunshine, he would put it into his pocket, really believing it would
turn into the most beautiful diamond. If he saw in the distance the
glittering cupolas of a mosque, or the sea smooth as glass, he would
hasten towards it joyously, thinking he had arrived in some enchanted
country. But alas! These phantoms disappeared as he approached them,
and only too soon did his fatigue and the complaints of his hungry
stomach remind him that he was still in the land of mortals.

Thus he had travelled for two days, hungry, weary, and in despair,
endeavouring to seek his fortune; the fruits of the field were his only
food, the hard earth his couch. On the morning of the third day he
perceived from the top of a hill a large town. The Crescent glittered
upon the cupolas, coloured banners floated upon the roofs, seeming
to beckon Little Muck to come to them. He stood still a moment quite
surprised, looking upon the town and its environs. 'Yes, that is the
place where Little Muck will make his fortune,' he said to himself; and
notwithstanding his weariness he stepped forward, 'there or nowhere.'
He summoned up all his strength and strode towards the city. But
although it appeared so close, he did not reach it till mid-day, for
his little legs almost entirely refused their office, so that he was
obliged to sit down frequently under the shade of a palm-tree to take
rest. At length he reached his destination. He arranged his little
cloak, improved the position of his turban, broadened his girdle still
more, and planted his long dagger in a still more oblique position;
he then wiped the dust from his shoes, armed himself with his little
staff, and bravely entered the city.

He had already strolled through many streets, but nowhere a door opened
to him, nowhere people called out to him as he had imagined: 'Little
Muck, come in, eat and drink, and rest your tiny legs.'

He was again looking up very longingly before a large and beautiful
house, when a window opened, an old woman looked out of it, and
exclaimed in a singing voice:

   'Come on, come on,
    The broth is done;
    Laid is the cloth,
    Enjoy the broth;
    Neighbours come,
    The broth is done.'

The door of the house opened, and Muck saw many dogs and cats go into
the house. He remained for some moments in a state of uncertainty, as
to whether he should respond to the invitation; at length, however,
he summoned up sufficient courage and entered the house. Before him
trotted a pair of young cats. He determined to follow them, because
they might know the way to the kitchen better than he.

When Muck had reached the top of the stairs, he met the old woman who
had looked out of the window. She looked at him sulkily, and demanded
of him what he wanted. 'I have heard you inviting everybody to your
feast,' answered little Muck, 'and as I am terribly hungry I have come
as well.' The old woman laughed and said: 'Where do you come from, you
strange creature? The whole town knows that I cook for nobody except
my dear cats, and now and again I invite company from the neighbourhood
for them, as you see.' Little Muck related to the old woman how badly
he had fared after his father's death, and entreated her to allow him
to feast this day with her cats. The woman, who seemed pleased at the
unaffected story of the little man, allowed him to be her guest, and
gave him plenty to eat and drink. After having regaled himself, the
woman looked at him for a long time and then said: 'Little Muck, remain
in my service, you will have little to do and plenty to eat.' Little
Muck, who seemed to have enjoyed the cats' broth, agreed, and thus
became Madam Ahavzi's servant. His work was light but strange. Lady
Ahavzi owned two cats and four kittens. Little Muck had to brush their
fur and anoint them with precious ointment every morning; if their
mistress was absent, he had to take care of them; at their meals he had
to wait upon them, and at night put them upon silk cushions and wrap
them up in velvet coverlets.

There were besides some little dogs in the house which he also had
to wait upon, but not so much attention was bestowed upon these as
upon the cats, who were treated like Lady Ahavzi's own children.
Altogether, Muck now lived almost as solitarily as when he was in his
late father's house; for, with the exception of his mistress, he only
saw, during the whole day, cats and dogs. For a short time little Muck
fared very well, he had always plenty to eat and little to do, and the
old woman seemed to be quite satisfied with him; but by degrees the
cats became troublesome; whenever the old lady was out they bounded
about the room like mad, setting everything pell-mell, and breaking
many valuable vases which stood in their way. But when they heard
their mistress coming up the stairs they crept up to their cushions,
wagging their little tails to welcome her as if nothing had occurred.
Lady Ahavzi then became angry on seeing her rooms in such a disordered
state, blaming Muck for it; and however much he might protest his
innocence, she had more confidence in her cats, which looked so
innocent, than in her own servant.

Little Muck was very sad that he had not found his fortune here, and
resolved to quit the service of Madam Ahavzi. But as he had discovered
during his former travels how difficult it was to live without money,
he determined to obtain his wages, which his mistress had always
promised, but never given him, by some means or other. In the house of
Madam Ahavzi was a chamber which was always locked, and the interior
of which he had never seen. He had, however, often heard the woman
making a noise in it, and for the life of him he would have liked
to know what she kept hidden there. While thinking of his money for
travelling, it occurred to him that it was probably there that Madam
Ahavzi kept her treasures. The door, however, was always firmly locked,
and he was unable therefore to get near them.

One morning, after Madam Ahavzi had gone out, one of the little dogs
which had always been treated by her very badly, whose favour, however,
he had gained in a high degree by showing it many acts of kindness,
pulled him by his full trousers, and made signs to him as if to induce
Muck to follow him. Muck, who had always been fond of playing with the
little dog, followed it, and behold, the little dog conducted him into
the bedroom of Madam Ahavzi, and to a little door which he had never
seen there before. The door was ajar. The little dog went in, Muck
following it, and he was agreeably surprised to find himself in the
room which had been so long the aim of his wishes. He spied in every
corner to see if he could find any money, but all in vain. Only old
clothes and strangely-shaped vases were lying about. One of these vases
especially attracted his attention. It was of crystal, and beautiful
figures were cut on it. He took it up and turned it about on all
sides. But, oh terror! He had not noticed that it had a cover which
was only lightly placed upon it. The cover dropped, and broke into a
thousand pieces.

For a long time Little Muck stood there petrified with fear. His
fate was now decided, and nothing remained for him but to run away,
otherwise the old woman would kill him. He immediately determined
upon going, but once more he looked round to see if he could make use
of some of Lady Ahavzi's property. His eyes fell on a mighty pair
of slippers. They were not very pretty, but his own could not stand
another journey. They also attracted his attention on account of their
immense size, for if his feet were once in them, all must plainly see
that he had discarded children's boots. He quickly took off his little
slippers, and put on the big ones. A pretty little staff with a lion's
head carved on its top seemed also to be standing idle in the corner,
so taking possession of it, he hastened out of the room. He then went
quickly to his room, donned his little cloak, put on his paternal
turban, planted the dagger in his girdle, and ran as fast as his legs
could carry him, out of the house and the gates of the town.

Outside the town he kept on running, being afraid of the old woman,
until at last he was overcome by fatigue. Never in all his life had he
gone so fast, nay, it seemed to him as if he could go on continually,
for some invisible power seemed to urge him on. He perceived at last
that his slippers were under the influence of some charm, for they kept
on stepping forward, and dragging him along. He tried by all sorts of
means to stand still, but all in vain. At last, being in the greatest
danger, he called out just as if he were guiding horses: 'Ho! ho!
halt ho!' The slippers immediately pulled up, and Muck threw himself
exhausted on the ground.

He was immensely pleased with the slippers. After all, he had acquired
something by his work, which might assist him on his way in the world,
to make his fortune. In spite of his joy he fell asleep from fatigue,
for the little body of Mr. Muck, which had to carry such an enormous
head, was not very strong. In a dream the little dog which had assisted
him in obtaining the slippers in Madam Ahavzi's house appeared to him
and said: 'Dear Muck, you do not seem properly to understand the use of
the slippers: Learn, if you turn in them three times on your heel, you
can fly wherever you like, and with the little cane you can discover
treasures: for wherever there is gold buried it will strike the ground
three times, and where silver lies twice.'

Thus dreamt Little Muck. When he was awake he meditated upon the
strange dream, and soon resolved to make a trial. He put on the
slippers, lifted one foot in the air and turned himself about on the
other. Whoever has tried the feat of turning round thrice successively
in a slipper too large for him will not be astonished at hearing that
Little Muck did not succeed very well in his first attempt, especially
if one takes into consideration that his enormous head sometimes
dragged him to the right and sometimes to the left.

The poor little fellow fell several times heavily on his nose;
nevertheless he did not allow himself to be discouraged from repeating
the experiment, and finally he succeeded. Like a wheel he turned round
on his heel, wishing himself to be transported to the nearest large
town, whereupon his slippers lifted him up into the air, fled through
the clouds as if they had wings, and before he could recover his senses
he found himself in a large market-place, where many booths were
pitched, and where a number of people were busily running to and fro.
He went about amongst the people, but found it advisable to go into a
more quiet street, for in the market-place people put their feet upon
his slippers, which nearly made him fall down; and further, his long
dagger every now and then pushed against some one or other, so that he
just escaped being beaten.

Little Muck now began seriously to think what he could do to earn some
money. Though he had a little staff indicating to him hidden treasures,
yet where could he discover a place, on the spur of the moment, where
gold or silver was buried? He might have exhibited himself in case of
necessity, but he was too proud for that. At length the quick movements
of his limbs occurred to him. 'Perhaps,' he thought, 'my slippers may
support me,' and he resolved to offer his services as courier, thinking
it possible that the King of this town might remunerate him handsomely
for such services, and he inquired after the palace. Near the gate of
the palace stood a sentry, who asked him what he wanted. He said that
he was looking for work, and was shown to the overseer of the slaves.
He told the latter his request, and petitioned him to find him a place
amongst the royal messengers. The overseer looked at him from head to
foot, and said: 'What! you, with your little limbs, which are scarcely
a span in length, wish to become a royal messenger! Get away, I have no
time for joking with a fool.'

Little Muck, however, assured him that he was quite in earnest with
his offer, and that he would venture a wager to outstrip the swiftest
runner. The affair seemed very ridiculous to the overseer. He ordered
him to be prepared for a race in the evening, took him into the
kitchen, and took care that he was supplied with plenty to eat and
drink. The overseer himself went to the King, and told him about this
little man and his offer. The King, who was a pleasant master, approved
of the overseer for having kept Little Muck for a joke. He ordered him
to make preparations on a large meadow behind the palace in order that
the race might be conveniently seen by his whole royal household, and
finally told him to look well after the dwarf.

The King related to the Princes and Princesses what sort of an
entertainment they would have in the evening. The latter told their
servants of it, and as the evening approached, all were in eager
expectation; they hastened towards the meadow, where scaffolds were
erected, in order to see the boasting dwarf run.

After the King, his sons and his daughters had taken their seats,
Little Muck appeared upon the meadow, saluting the assemblage with
an extremely courteous bow. General shouts of joy resounded on the
little man appearing; such a figure had never been seen there before.
The little man's body with its immense head, his little cloak and
large trousers, the long dagger in the broad girdle, his little feet
in his slippers: No! this was too funny a sight for people not to
laugh. Little Muck, however, did not allow himself to be abashed by
the laughter. He proudly took his place, leaning on his little cane,
and awaited his adversary. The overseer of the slaves had, at Muck's
request, selected the quickest runner. The latter now came forward,
placing himself by the side of the little man, and both waited for
the signal. Then the Princess Amarza, as had been arranged, nodded
from under her veil, and like two arrows shot at the same target, the
runners rushed forward over the meadow.

At first Muck's adversary had a decided advantage, but the former
on his slipper-conveyance chased him, overtook him, passed him, and
reached the goal long before the other came along gasping for breath.
The spectators were for some moments stupefied with admiration and
astonishment, but when first the King applauded, then the whole
multitude followed his example, and all shouted:

'Long live Little Muck, the winner of the race!'

In the meantime Little Muck had been fetched. He prostrated himself
before the King, and said: 'All powerful King, this is merely a trifle
of my art; and now condescend to assign me a place amongst your
couriers.' The King replied: 'No, you shall be my private runner, and
always about me. You shall have for your salary a hundred gold pieces
annually, and you shall dine with my chief courtiers.'

Muck now at last thought he had found his fortune, which he had sought
after for so long a time, and rejoiced inwardly. He also rejoiced at
the special favour of the King, for the latter employed him for the
quickest and most secret despatches, which Little Muck executed with
the greatest exactitude, and with incomprehensible rapidity.

The other servants, however, were jealous of him, because they thought
themselves lessened in the favour of their master, through a dwarf, who
understood nothing else but running. Many conspiracies, therefore, were
plotted against him in order to ruin him; but all failed, on account of
the great confidence which the King placed in his chief private runner,
for he had risen to this dignity in a short time.

Muck, who was not blind to these intrigues, did not think of avenging
himself; he was too noble-hearted for that. No, he rather thought of
some means by which he might make himself indispensable, and liked
by his enemies. He then recollected his little staff, which he had
forgotten in his fortunate circumstances; if he discovered treasures,
he thought, then perhaps his companions might look upon him with a more
favourable eye.

He had often been told that the father of the present King had buried
a great part of his treasures at a time when the enemy invaded his
country; it was also said that he had died since, without having been
able to communicate his secret to his son. Henceforward Muck always
took his little cane with him, hoping that some day he might pass the
place where the money of the old King lay buried. One evening chance
led him to a lonely spot in the King's garden, a place which he little
frequented, when suddenly he felt his little cane jerking in his hand,
and striking the ground three times. He was already aware what this
meant. He therefore drew his dagger, notched the trees surrounding the
place, and returned to the castle: he now procured a spade, and waited
until nightfall for his enterprise.

His searching for the treasures gave Little Muck more trouble than
he had expected. His arms were very weak, his spade too large and
heavy, and he worked for more than two hours before he had dug two
feet in depth. At length he struck against something hard, which gave
a metallic sound. He now dug away more vigorously, and soon succeeded
in bringing to light a large iron lid; he himself got into the hole
in order to discover what the lid might cover, and he really found a
large urn filled with gold pieces. His feeble powers, however, were
insufficient to lift the urn, and he therefore put into his trousers
and girdle as much as he could carry; he stuffed his little cloak
with as much as he could, and put it on his back, having concealed
the rest very carefully. But, as a matter of fact, if he had not had
his slippers on, he would not have been able to proceed, so heavily
the gold weighed on him. Unobserved, he reached his room, and there
concealed his gold underneath the cushions of his couch.

When Little Muck found himself the owner of so much gold he thought
matters would now undergo a change, and that he would gain amongst his
enemies at court many patrons and warm friends. Judging from this, it
was but too obvious that Little Muck could not have received a very
careful education, otherwise he would not have imagined that it was
possible to gain real friends with gold. Alas! he had much better have
greased his slippers then, and made his escape with his little cloak
filled with gold as quickly as he could.

The gold which Little Muck now freely distributed excited the jealousy
of the other courtiers. The chief cook Ahuli said: 'He is a coiner.'
Achmet, the overseer of the slaves, said: 'He has obtained it from
the King by talking.' Archaz, the treasurer, however, his bitterest
enemy, who himself from time to time dipped into the King's cash-box,
said openly: 'He has stolen it.' Now in order to make quite sure of
their affair, they plotted together, and the chief cup-bearer Korchuz
presented himself one day very sad and downcast before the King. He
dissimulated in such a way that the King asked him what was the matter
with him. 'Alas!' he answered, 'I am sad for having lost the grace of
my master.' 'What are you raving about, friend Korchuz?' said the King.
'How long has the sunshine of my favour ceased to fall on you?' The
chief cup-bearer answered him that he had lavished so much gold on his
private chief runner, and forgotten him, his poor and faithful servant,
altogether.

The King was much astonished at this news, and caused little Muck's
distributions of gold to be related to him, and the conspirators easily
made him suspect that Muck by some means or other had stolen the money
from the treasury. The treasurer was very pleased at this turn of
affairs, and besides, was reluctant to give an account of the state of
his books. The King therefore ordered them to watch all the movements
of Little Muck, in order to surprise him if possible in the act of
stealing. When, therefore, during the night following this fatal day,
Little Muck took the spade in order to go into the King's garden to
get a fresh supply from his secret treasure, because he had exhausted
his store through his liberality, he was followed by the sentries,
headed by the chief cook Ahuli and the treasurer Archaz; and just as
he was about to put the gold into his little cloak they attacked him,
bound him, and brought him immediately before the King. The latter,
whose disturbed slumbers had not put him in a very good humour,
received his poor chief private runner very ungraciously, and examined
him immediately. The pot had been dug completely out of the ground, and
with the spade, as well as the little cloak filled with gold, had been
placed before the King. The treasurer alleged that he had surprised
Muck with his sentinels at the moment when he had buried this pot of
gold in the ground.

The King questioned the accused as to whether it was true, and where he
had got the gold which he had buried. Little Muck assured him of his
innocence, and said that he had discovered this pot in the garden, and
that he was not going to bury it, but to dig it out.

All present laughed at this excuse; the King, however, greatly
exasperated at the barefaced impudence of the little man, exclaimed:
'You wretch! You dare to impose on your King in such a gross fashion,
after having robbed him? Treasurer Archaz, I call upon you to say
whether you recognise this sum of gold as the same which is missing
from my treasury?' The treasurer said he was quite sure that so much
and still more had been missing for some time from the royal treasury,
and that he was prepared to affirm it with an oath that this was the
stolen money.

Thereupon the King ordered Little Muck to be put in heavy chains and
taken to the tower; the gold he gave to the treasurer, in order to
restore it to the treasury. Delighted at the fortunate result of the
affair, he left, and counted the glittering gold pieces at home; but
the bad man never announced that there had been at the bottom of the
pot a piece of paper on which was written: 'The enemy has inundated my
country, therefore I bury here part of my treasures; whoever the finder
may be is cursed by the King if he does not immediately deliver it up
to my son. King Sadi.'

Little Muck made sad reflections in his prison; he knew that death was
the punishment for stealing the King's property, yet he did not intend
to reveal the secret of the little staff to the King, fearing he should
be deprived of it as well as of his slippers. His slippers could not
assist him at all, for he was chained close to a wall, and could not,
in spite of his endeavours, turn round on his heel. When, however, on
the next day he was informed that he had to die, he thought it best
after all to live without the magic wand rather than die with it, so
he requested the King for a private interview, and revealed to him the
secret. The King at first had not much faith in his confession; but
Little Muck promised a trial if the King assured him that he should not
be killed. The King gave him his word for it, and, unknown to Muck, had
some gold buried in the ground, and told him to find it with his little
staff. In a few moments he had discovered it, for the little staff
struck three times distinctly upon the ground. The King now recognised
that his treasurer had deceived him, and sent him, as is customary in
the East, a silk cord to hang himself with. But to Little Muck he said:
'Although I have promised to spare your life, yet it seems to me you
possess more than the secret of this little staff; therefore you shall
pass the rest of your days in captivity, unless you reveal the means by
which you run so swiftly.'

Little Muck, for whom one night in the tower had been sufficient
to make him hate captivity, confessed that all his art lay in his
slippers; but he did not tell the King the secret of turning three
times on the heel. The King himself slipped into the slippers in order
to make a trial, and rushed about like a madman in his garden; he
often wanted to stop, but he did not know how it was possible, and
Little Muck, who could not help avenging himself a little, allowed him
to run until he fell down fainting.

When the King had gained consciousness again, he was terribly angry
with Little Muck for having let him run about breathless. 'I have
pledged my word to set you at liberty, and to spare your life. Quit my
kingdom within twelve hours, else I will have you hung.' The slippers
and the little staff, however, were put into his treasury.

As poor as before, Little Muck left the country, cursing his folly
which had deceived him in imagining that he might play a prominent
part at Court. Fortunately, the country from which he was banished was
not extensive, and after eight hours he reached the frontier, although
he had some difficulty in walking, for he was accustomed to his dear
slippers.

After he had crossed the frontier he struck out of the main path to
find the most solitary spot of the forest, intending to live there only
for himself, for he hated all mankind. In a dense forest he chanced
upon a little place, which seemed quite suitable to him according to
the plan which he had formed. A clear stream, surrounded by gigantic
and shady fig-trees and a soft piece of turf, invited him to throw
himself down, and it was here that he intended to take no more
nourishment, but to await death. Over these reflections of death he
fell asleep; but on awaking, and when hunger tormented him, he came to
the conclusion that after all to die of hunger was a terrible thing,
and looked around to see if he could find anything to eat.

There were some delicious ripe figs on the tree under which he had
slept, so he climbed up the tree to gather some, enjoyed them heartily,
and then came down to quench his thirst in the brook. But how great
was his terror when his reflection in the water showed him his head
ornamented with two immense ears and a thick long nose. In dismay he
seized his ears with his hands; indeed they were more than half a yard
long.

'I deserve donkey's ears!' he exclaimed, 'for I have, like an ass,
trampled upon my fortune.' He wandered amongst the trees, and on
feeling hungry again, he ate once more of the figs, for there was
nothing else eatable on the trees. Whilst he was eating the second lot
of figs it occurred to him that there might be room enough for his
ears under his great turban, so as not to appear too ridiculous; but
he felt that his ears had disappeared! He immediately returned to the
brook, in order to make sure of it. And indeed it was true; his ears
had assumed their former appearance, and also his long and unshapely
nose had changed. He now perceived how all this had happened; it was
owing to the figs from the first tree that he had got the long nose and
ears; the second had healed him. Gladly he recognised that his good
fortune had once again given him the means of being happy. He therefore
gathered from each tree as much as he could carry, and returned to the
country which he had recently quitted. In the first little town he
entered he disguised himself, and without stopping went towards the
city where the King resided, and soon arrived there.

It happened to be the season of the year when ripe fruits were scarce;
Little Muck therefore sat down near the gate of the palace, for he
remembered that in former times the chief cook bought such rarities
for the royal table. Muck had only just sat down when he saw the chief
cook coming across the court. He inspected the wares of the sellers
who had collected near the gate of the palace; at last his attention
was directed towards Muck's little basket. 'Ah! a rare bit,' he said,
'which His Majesty will certainly enjoy. How much do you want for the
whole basketful?' Little Muck asked a moderate price, and they were
soon agreed over the bargain. The chief cook gave the basket to a slave
and continued his way. Little Muck, however, ran away in the meantime,
for he feared that if the horrible developments were to appear on the
heads of those at Court, he being the seller might be sought out and
punished.

The King was in high spirits during dinner, and complimented the chief
cook over and over again on account of his excellent cooking, and care
in always selecting the best for him. The chief cook, however, who was
well aware what delicacy was yet to come, smiled significantly, and
merely said, 'The day is not over yet,' or 'All's well that ends well,'
so that the Princesses became very curious what else was to come. When,
therefore, he had the splendid inviting figs served up, there was a
universal cry of 'Ah!' from all present. 'How beautiful, how inviting!'
exclaimed the King. 'Chief cook, you are a capital fellow, and worthy
of our entire favour.' In speaking thus the King himself distributed
these delicacies, with which he was always very frugal, to every one
at table. Each Prince and each Princess received two, the ladies in
waiting, the viziers, and the officers one each, the rest he placed
before himself, and commenced to eat them with a good appetite.

'But dear me, how peculiar you look, father!' exclaimed Princess Amarza
all at once. All looked at the King in surprise: immense ears hung down
on his head, a long nose extended down his chin. All the guests looked
at each other with astonishment and terror; all were more or less
adorned with this peculiar head-dress.

The consternation of the Court may be easily imagined. They immediately
sent for all the physicians in the town, who came in troops, prescribed
pills and mixtures, but the ears and noses remained. An operation was
performed on one of the Princes, but the ears budded out again.

Muck had heard of the whole affair in his hiding-place, and thought
now was the time for him to act. He had already procured for himself
a dress with the money which he had obtained for the figs, and now
appeared as a wise man. A long beard of goat's hair disguised him
completely. He entered the palace of the King with a little bag filled
with figs, and offered his services as a foreign physician. At first
they were somewhat sceptical, but after Little Muck had given a fig to
one of the Princes to eat, and when the latter's ears and nose again
assumed their original shape, then all desired to be cured by the
foreign physician. The King, however, took him silently by the hand and
led him into his apartment; he there unlocked a door which led into the
treasury, beckoning Muck to follow him. 'Here are my treasures,' said
the King; 'make your selection, and whatever it be, you shall have, if
you rid me of this frightful evil.' This was sweet music to the ears of
Little Muck; immediately on entering he had seen his slippers lying
on the floor, together with his little staff. He now went about the
room as if he were desirous of admiring the King's treasures. Scarcely,
however, had he come to his slippers when he quietly slipped into them,
seized his little staff, tore off his false beard, and displayed to the
amazed King the well-known features of the exiled Muck. 'Perfidious
King,' he said, 'who repay with ingratitude faithful services, take as
a well-deserved punishment the deformity which has overtaken you. You
shall wear the long ears in order that they may remind you daily of
Little Muck.'

After having said this he quickly turned round on his heel, wishing
himself far away, and before the King was able to call for assistance
Little Muck was out of sight. Ever since Little Muck lives here in
great wealth, but secluded, for he hates men. Experience has taught him
wisdom, and notwithstanding his strange exterior, he rather deserves
your admiration than your mockery.

       *       *       *       *       *

That is the story which my father told me. I repented of my unworthy
conduct towards the good little man, and my father remitted the other
half of the punishment which was yet in store for me. I related to my
comrades the marvellous adventures of the little man, and we became so
fond of him that none of us ever mocked him again. On the contrary, we
respected him as long as he lived, and always bowed to him with as much
respect as we should have done before a Cadi or a Mufti.




[Illustration]

NOSE, THE DWARF

  This story is from the collection called _The Sheik of Alexandria
  and his Slaves_, and is told by a slave to the Sheik.


Sir, those people are much mistaken who fancy that there were no
fairies and enchanters, except in the time of Haroun Al Raschid, Lord
of Bagdad, or even pronounce those accounts untrue of the deeds of
genii and their princes, which one hears the story-tellers relate in
the market-places of the town. There are fairies nowadays, and it is
but a short time since I myself was witness of an occurrence in which
genii were evidently playing a part, as you will see from my narrative.
In a considerable town of my dear fatherland, Germany, there lived
many years ago a cobbler, with his wife, in a humble but honest way.
In the daytime he used to sit at the corner of a street mending shoes
and slippers; he did not refuse making new ones if anybody would trust
him, but he was obliged to buy the leather first, as his poverty did
not enable him to keep a stock. His wife sold vegetables and fruit,
which she cultivated in a small garden outside the town-gates, and
many people were glad to buy of her, because she was dressed cleanly
and neatly, and knew how to arrange and lay out her things to the best
advantage.

Now this worthy couple had a beautiful boy, of a sweet countenance,
well made, and rather tall for his age, which was eight years. He
was in the habit of sitting in the market with his mother, and often
carried home part of the fruit and vegetables for the women and cooks
who had made large purchases; he seldom, however, returned from one
of these journeys without bringing either a beautiful flower, a piece
of money, or a cake, which the mistresses of such cooks gave him as a
present, because they were always pleased to see the handsome boy come
to the house.

One day the cobbler's wife was sitting as usual in the market-place,
having before her some baskets with cabbages and other vegetables,
various herbs and seeds, besides some early pears, apples, and
apricots, in a small basket. Little Jacob (this was the boy's name) sat
by her, crying out in a loud voice: 'This way, gentlemen, see what
beautiful cabbages, what fragrant herbs; early pears, ladies, early
apples and apricots; who will buy? My mother sells cheap.'

While the boy was thus calling out, an old woman came across the
market; her dress was tattered and in rags, she had a small, sharp
face, quite furrowed with age, red eyes, and a pointed, crooked nose,
which reached down to her chin; in her walk she supported herself on a
long stick, and yet it was difficult to say exactly how she walked, for
she hobbled and shuffled along, and waddled as if she were on casters,
and it was as if she must fall down every instant and break her pointed
nose on the pavement.

The cobbler's wife looked attentively at this old woman. For sixteen
years she had been sitting daily in the market, yet she had never
observed this strange figure, and therefore involuntarily shuddered
when she saw the old hag hobbling towards her and stopping before her
baskets.

'Are you the greengrocer Hannah?' she asked in a disagreeable, croaking
voice, shaking her head to and fro.

'Yes, I am,' replied the cobbler's wife; 'what is your pleasure?'

'We'll see, we'll see, we'll look at your herbs--look at your herbs,
to see whether you have what I want,' answered the old woman; and
stooping down she thrust her dark brown, unsightly hands into the
herb-basket, and took up some that were beautifully spread out, with
her long spider-like fingers, bringing them one by one up to her long
nose, and smelling them all over. The poor woman felt her heart quake
when she saw the old hag handle her herbs in this manner, but she dared
not say anything to her, the purchasers having a right to examine the
things as they pleased; besides which, she felt a singular awe in the
presence of this old woman. After having searched the whole basket, she
muttered, 'Wretched stuff, wretched herbs, nothing that I want--were
much better fifty years ago--wretched stuff! wretched stuff!'

Little Jacob was vexed at these words. 'Hark ye,' he cried boldly, 'you
are an impudent old woman; first you thrust your nasty brown fingers
into these beautiful herbs and squeeze them together, then you hold
them up to your long nose, so that no one seeing this will buy them
after you, and you abuse our goods, calling them wretched stuff, though
the duke's cook himself buys all his herbs of us.'

The old woman leered at the bold boy, laughed disagreeably, and said
in a hoarse voice, 'Little son, little son, you like my nose then, my
beautiful long nose? You shall have one too in the middle of your face
that shall reach down to your chin.'

While she spoke thus she shuffled up to another basket containing
cabbages. She took the most beautiful white heads up in her hand,
squeezed them together till they squeaked, and then throwing them into
the basket again without regard to order, said as before, 'Wretched
things! wretched cabbages!'

'Don't wriggle your head about in that ugly fashion,' cried the little
boy, rather frightened; 'why your neck is as thin as a cabbage-stalk
and might easily break, then your head would fall into the basket, and
who would buy of us?'

'You don't like such thin necks then, eh?' muttered the old woman, with
a laugh. 'You shall have none at all; your head shall be fixed between
your shoulders, that it may not fall down from the little body.'

'Don't talk such nonsense to the little boy,' at length said the
cobbler's wife, indignant at the long-looking, examining, and smelling
of the things; 'if you wish to buy anything be quick, for you scare
away all my other customers.'

'Well, be it as you say,' cried the old woman, with a furious look; 'I
will buy these six heads of cabbages; but you see I must support myself
on my stick, and cannot carry anything, therefore allow your little
son to carry them home for me, and I will reward him.'

The little boy would not go with her, and began to cry, for he was
terrified at the ugly old woman, but his mother commanded him to go, as
she thought it a sin to load the feeble old soul with the burden. Still
sobbing, he did as he was ordered, and followed the old woman across
the market-place.

She proceeded slowly, and was almost three-quarters of an hour before
she arrived at a very remote part of the town, where she at length
stopped in front of a small dilapidated house. She pulled out of her
pocket an old rusty hook, and thrust it dexterously into a small hole
in the door, which immediately opened with a crash. But what was the
astonishment of little Jacob as he entered! The interior of the house
was magnificently adorned, the ceiling and walls were of marble, the
furniture of the most beautiful ebony, inlaid with gold and polished
stones, the floor was of glass, and so smooth that little Jacob several
times slipped and fell down. The old woman took a small silver whistle
from her pocket, and blew a note on it which sounded shrilly through
the house. Immediately some guinea-pigs came down the stairs, and
little Jacob was much amazed at their walking upright on their hind
legs, wearing on their paws nut-shells instead of shoes, men's clothes
on their bodies, and even hats in the newest fashion on their heads.

'Where are my slippers, ye rascally crew?' cried the old woman,
striking at them with her stick, so that they jumped squeaking into the
air; 'how long am I to stand here waiting?'

They quickly scampered up the stairs and returned with a pair of
cocoa-nut shells lined with leather, which they placed dexterously upon
the old woman's feet.

Now all her limping and shuffling was at an end. She threw away her
stick, and glided with great rapidity over the glass floor, drawing
little Jacob after her. At length she stopped in a room which was
adorned with a great variety of utensils, and which closely resembled
a kitchen, although the tables were of mahogany, and the sofas covered
with rich cloth, more fit for a drawing-room.

'Sit down,' said the old woman kindly, pressing him into a corner of
a sofa, and placing a table before him in such a manner that he could
not get out again; 'sit down, you have had a heavy load to carry; human
heads are not so light--not so light.'

'But, woman,' replied the little boy, 'you talk very strangely; I am,
indeed, tired, but they were cabbage heads I was carrying, and you
bought them of my mother.'

'Why, you know but little about that,' said the old woman laughing, as
she took the lid from the basket and brought out a human head, which
she held by the hair. The little boy was frightened out of his senses
at this; he could not comprehend how it came about; and thinking of his
mother, he said to himself, 'If any one were to hear of these human
heads, my mother would certainly be prosecuted.'

'I must give you some reward now, as you are so good,' muttered the
old woman; 'have patience for a minute, and I will prepare for you a
soup which you will remember all your life.' Having said this, she
whistled again, and immediately there came first some guinea-pigs
dressed like human beings; they had tied round them kitchen-aprons,
fastened by a belt, in which were stuck ladles and carving-knives;
after them came skipping in a number of squirrels that wore large, wide
Turkish trousers, walked upright, and had small caps of green velvet on
their heads. These seemed to be the scullions, for they climbed very
nimbly up the walls and brought down pans and dishes, eggs and butter,
herbs and flour, and carried it to the hearth. The old woman slided
continually to and fro upon her cocoa-nut slippers, and little Jacob
observed that she was bent on cooking something good for him. Now the
fire crackled and blazed up higher, there was a smoking and bubbling
in the saucepan, and a pleasant odour spread over the room, but the old
woman kept running up and down, the squirrels and guinea-pigs after
her, and as often as she passed the hearth she poked her long nose
into the pot. At length it began to boil and hiss, the steam rose from
the pot, and the scum flowed down into the fire. She then took off the
saucepan, and pouring some into a silver basin, gave it to Jacob.

'Now, my dear little son, now,' said she, 'eat this soup, and you will
have in your own person all that you admired so much in me. You shall
moreover become a clever cook, that you may be something at least, but
as for the herb, that you shall never find, because your mother did not
have it in her basket.'

The little boy did not exactly understand what she was saying, but was
the more attentive in eating his soup, which he relished uncommonly.
His mother had cooked various savoury soups, but never any like this.
The flavour of the fine herbs and spice ascended from it, and it was
at the same time very sweet, and very sharp and strong. While he was
sipping the last drops of the delicious soup the guinea-pigs lighted
some Arabian incense, which floated through the room in blue clouds,
which became thicker and thicker, and then descended. The smell of the
incense had a stupefying effect upon the boy; in vain he repeatedly
said to himself that he must return to his mother, for as often as he
endeavoured to rouse himself, as often did he relapse into slumber,
and, at length, actually fell into a profound sleep upon the old
woman's sofa.

Strange dreams came over him while he thus slept. It seemed as if the
old woman was taking off his clothes, and putting on him the skin of
a squirrel. Now he could make bounds and climb like a squirrel; he
associated with the other squirrels and guinea-pigs, who were all very
polite, decent people, and he did duty in waiting upon the old woman
in his turn like the rest. At first he had to perform the service of
a shoe-black, that is, he had to oil and polish the cocoa-nut shells
which his mistress wore instead of slippers. Having often blacked and
polished shoes at home, he performed his duty well and quickly. After
the lapse of about one year he dreamt again (according to the sequel
of his dream) that he was employed for more delicate work, that is, in
company with some other squirrels, he was set to catch the motes in a
sunbeam, and, when they had caught enough, to sift them through the
finest hair-sieve, as the old woman considered them the nicest food,
and not being able to masticate well for want of teeth, had her bread
prepared of such motes.

At the end of another year he was raised to the rank of one of the
servants who had to collect the water the old woman drank. But you
must not suppose that she had a cistern dug for that purpose, or a tub
placed in the yard to catch the rain-water; she had a much finer plan.
The squirrels, and Jacob with them, had to collect in their hazel-nut
shells the dew from roses, and this was the beverage of the old woman.
The labour of these water-carriers was not a very light one, as she
used to drink a great deal. After another year he was employed in
in-door service, his duty being to clean the floors, and as they were
of glass and showed the least speck, it was not a very easy task. He
and his fellow-servants were obliged to brush the floors, and with
pieces of old cloth tied to their feet dexterously skated about the
rooms. In the fourth year he received an appointment in the kitchen,
which was so honourable an office that one could succeed to it only
after a long probation. Jacob here served from scullion upwards to the
post of first pastrycook, and acquired such an extraordinary skill and
experience in everything relating to the culinary art that often he
could not help wondering at himself; the most difficult things, pies
composed of two hundred different ingredients, soups prepared with all
the herbs of the globe,--all these, and many other things, he learned
to make quickly and efficiently.

Seven years had thus passed away in the service of the old woman when
one day, pulling off her shoes of cocoa-nut, and taking her basket and
crutch in hand in order to go out, she told him to pluck a chicken,
stuff it with herbs, and roast it nice and brown, during her absence.
He did this according to the rules of his art; twisted the chicken's
neck, scalded it in hot water, pulled out the feathers cleverly,
scraped its skin smooth and fine, and then drew it. Next he began
gathering the herbs with which he was to stuff the chicken. Now when he
came to the chamber where these herbs were kept he perceived a small
cupboard in the wall that he had never before noticed, and finding the
door of it half open, he had the curiosity to go near, in order to
see what it contained, when behold! there stood a great many little
baskets in it, from which proceeded a strong pleasant smell. He opened
one of these little baskets, and found in it a herb of a most singular
form and colour; its stalks and leaves were of a bluish green, and it
had a flower of burning red fringed with yellow at the top. He looked
thoughtfully at this flower, and smelled it, when it emitted the same
powerful odour as the soup which the old woman had cooked for him
when he first came there. But the smell was so strong that he began to
sneeze, was obliged to keep sneezing, and at last awoke, sneezing still.

He now found himself upon the old woman's sofa, and looked around him
with astonishment. 'Heavens!' he said to himself, 'how vividly one
may dream; I would almost have sworn that I was a wanton squirrel,--a
companion of guinea-pigs and other animals, but at the same time had
become a great cook. How my mother will laugh when I tell her all
this! But will she not also scold me for falling asleep in a strange
house instead of helping her in the market?' While engaged in these
thoughts he started up to run away; but his limbs were still quite
stiff with sleep, and particularly his neck, for he was unable to
move his head well to and fro. He could not help smiling at himself
and his drowsiness, for every moment, before he was aware, he ran
his nose against a cupboard or the wall, or turning suddenly round,
struck it against a door-post. The squirrels and guinea-pigs crowded
whining around him, as if anxious to accompany him, and he actually
invited them to do so when he was on the threshold, for they were nice
little creatures, but they glided quickly back into the house on their
nutshells, and he only heard them howling at a distance.

As it was a very remote part of the town to which the old woman had
brought him, he could hardly find his way through the narrow streets,
and as, moreover, there was a great crowd of people wherever he went,
he could only account for this by supposing there must be a dwarf
somewhere in the neighbourhood for show, for he heard everywhere cries
of, 'Only look at the ugly dwarf! Where does the dwarf come from? O!
what a long nose he has, and how his head sits between his shoulders,
and look at his brown ugly hands!' At any other time he would probably
have followed the cry, for he was very fond of seeing giants and
dwarfs, and any sort of curious, foreign costume, but now he was
obliged to hurry and get to his mother.

He felt quite weary when he arrived at the market. He found his mother
still sitting there, and she had a tolerable quantity of fruit in the
basket; he could not therefore have been sleeping long, but still it
appeared to him, even at a distance, as if she were very melancholy,
for she did not call to those coming past to buy, but supported her
head on one hand, and on coming closer he thought she looked paler than
usual. He hesitated as to what he should do; and at length mustering
up courage, crept gently behind her, and putting his hand familiarly
upon her arm, asked, 'Dear mother, what's the matter with you? are you
angry with me?'

The woman turned round, but started back with a shriek of terror,
saying, 'What do you want with me, you ugly dwarf? Begone, begone! I do
not like such jokes.'

'But mother, what is the matter with you?' asked Jacob, quite
terrified; 'surely you must be unwell; why will you turn your son away
from you?'

'I have told you already to be gone,' replied Hannah angrily; 'you will
not get any money from me by your juggleries, you ill-favoured monster.'

'Surely God has deprived her of the light of her intellect,' said the
dwarf, deeply grieved within himself; 'what shall I do to get her home?
Dear mother, pray do listen to reason; only look well at me, I am
indeed your son--your own Jacob.'

'Why this is carrying the joke too far,' she said to her neighbour;
'only look at that ugly dwarf; there he stands, and will no doubt drive
away all my customers; nay, he even dares to ridicule my misfortune,
telling me that he is my son, my own Jacob, the impudent fellow.'

At this her neighbours rose, and began abusing him (every one knows
that market women understand this), and reproaching him with making
light of poor Hannah's misfortune, who seven years ago had had her
beautiful boy kidnapped, and with one accord they threatened to fall
upon him and tear him to pieces, unless he took himself off immediately.

Poor Jacob did not know what to make of all this. Indeed it seemed to
him that he had that very morning, as usual, gone to market with his
mother, had helped her to lay out her fruit, and had afterwards gone
with the old woman to her house, eaten some soup, slept a little while,
and had now come back; and yet his mother and her neighbours talked of
seven years, calling him at the same time an ugly dwarf. What then was
the change that had come over him? Seeing, at length, that his mother
would no longer listen to anything he said, he felt the tears come in
his eyes, and went sorrowfully down the street towards the stall where
his father sat in the daytime mending shoes.

'I am curious to see,' he thought to himself, 'whether he, too, will
disown me? I will place myself in the doorway and talk to him.' And
having come there he did so and looked in.

The cobbler was so busily engaged at work that he did not see him; but
happening to cast a look towards the door, he dropped shoe, twine, and
awl on the ground, and cried with astonishment, 'For Heaven's sake,
what is that?'

'Good evening, master' said the little dwarf, stepping inside the
booth. 'How fare you?'

'Badly, badly, my little gentleman,' replied Jacob's father, to his
utter amazement; for he, too, did not seem to recognise him. 'I have to
do all the work myself, for I am alone and now getting old, and yet I
cannot afford to keep a journeyman.'

'But have you no son to assist you in your work?' inquired the dwarf
further.

'Indeed I had one, whose name was Jacob, and he now must be a handsome,
quick lad, twenty years old, who might effectually assist me. Ah! what
a pleasant life I should lead. Even when he was twelve years old he
showed himself quite handy and clever, and understood a great deal
of the business. He was a fine engaging little fellow; he would soon
have brought me plenty of custom, so that I should no longer have been
mending shoes and boots but making new ones. But so goes the world.'

'Where is your son, then?' asked Jacob in a tremulous voice.

'That God only knows,' replied his father. 'Seven years ago, yes! it is
just that now, he was stolen from us in the market-place.'

'Seven years ago, you say?' cried Jacob with astonishment.

'Yes, little gentleman, seven years ago; the circumstance is as fresh
in my memory as if it had happened to-day, how my poor wife came home
weeping and crying, saying that the child had not come back all day,
and that she had inquired and searched everywhere without finding
him. But I always said it would come to that; for Jacob was a pretty
child, no one could help saying so, therefore my poor wife was proud
of him and fond of hearing people praise him, and often sent him with
vegetables and such like to the houses of the gentlefolks. All this was
very well; he always received some present. But said I, mark me, the
town is large, and there are many bad people in it, so take care of
Jacob. But it happened as I said. Once there comes an ugly old woman
to the market, bargains for some fruits and vegetables, and at length
buys so much that she cannot carry it home herself. My wife, kind soul,
sends the lad with her, and--has never seen him again since that hour.'

'And that is now seven years ago?'

'Seven years this spring. We had him cried in the town, we went from
house to house inquiring; many had known and liked the pretty lad, and
searched with us, but all in vain. Neither did any one know the woman
who bought the vegetables; a very aged woman, however, ninety years
old, said, 'it might possibly have been the wicked fairy, Kraeuterweis,
who once in fifty years comes to the town to buy various things?'

Thus spoke Jacob's father hastily, hammering at his shoes meanwhile,
and drawing out at great length the twine with both hands. Now by
degrees light broke on the little dwarf, and he saw what had happened
to him, viz., that he had not been dreaming, but had served as a
squirrel seven years with the evil fairy. Rage and sorrow filled his
heart almost to bursting.

The old witch had robbed him of seven years of his youth, and what had
he in exchange? What was it that he could polish slippers of cocoa-nut
shell? that he could clean rooms with glass floors? that he had learned
all the mysteries of cooking from the guinea-pigs? Thus he stood for
some time meditating on his fate, when at length his father asked him--

'Do you want to purchase anything, young gentleman? Perhaps a pair of
new slippers or, peradventure, a case for your nose?' he added, smiling.

'What do you mean about my nose?' asked Jacob; 'why should I want a
case for it?'

'Why,' replied the cobbler, 'every one according to his taste; but I
must tell you that if I had such a terrible nose I should have a case
made for it of rose-coloured morocco. Look here, I have a beautiful
piece that is just the thing; indeed we should at least want a yard for
it. It would then be well guarded, my little gentleman; whereas now
I am sure you will knock it against every door-post and carriage you
would wish to avoid.'

The dwarf was struck dumb with terror; he felt his nose; it was full
two hands long, and thick in proportion. So then the old hag had
likewise changed his person; and hence it was his mother did not know
him, and people called him an ill-favoured dwarf.

'Master,' said he, half crying to the cobbler, 'have you no
looking-glass at hand in which I might behold myself?'

'Young gentleman,' replied his father gravely, 'you have not exactly
been favoured as to appearance so as to make you vain, and you have
no cause to look often in the glass. You had better leave it off
altogether. It is with you a particularly ridiculous habit.'

'Oh! pray let me look in the glass,' cried the dwarf. 'I assure you it
is not from vanity.'

'Leave me in peace, I have none in my possession; my wife has a little
looking-glass, but I do not know where she has hid it. If you really
must look into one,--why then, over the way lives Urban, the barber,
who has a glass twice as big as your head; look in there, and now, good
morning.'

With these words his father pushed him gently out of the stall,
locked the door after him, and sat down again to his work. The little
dwarf, much cast down, went over the way to the barber, whom he well
remembered in former times.

'Good morning, Urban,' said he to him, 'I come to beg a favour of you;
be so kind as to let me look a moment in your looking-glass.'

'With pleasure,' cried the barber laughing; 'there it is,' and his
customers who were about to be shaved laughed heartily with him. 'You
are rather a pretty fellow, slim and genteel; you have a neck like a
swan, hands like a queen, and a turn-up nose, such as one seldom sees
excelled. A little vain you are of it, no doubt; but no matter, look at
yourself; people shall not say that envy prevented me from allowing you
to see yourself in my glass.'

Thus spoke the barber, and a yell of laughter resounded through the
room. In the meantime the dwarf had stepped to the glass and looked at
himself. The tears came in his eyes while saying to himself: 'Yes, dear
mother, thus you could not indeed recognise your Jacob; he did not look
like this in the days of your happiness, when you delighted to show him
off before the people?' His eyes had become little, like those of a
pig; his nose was immense, hanging over his mouth down to his chin; his
neck seemed to have been taken away altogether, for his head sat low
between his shoulders, and it was only with the greatest pain that he
could move it to the right or left; his body was still the same size as
it had been seven years ago, when he was twelve years old, so that he
had grown in width what others do in height between the ages of twelve
and twenty. His back and chest stood out like two short, well-filled
bags; and this thick-set body was supported by small thin legs, which
seemed hardly sufficient to support their burden; but so much the
larger were his arms, which hung down from his body, being of the size
of those of a full-grown man; his hands were coarse, and of a brownish
hue, his fingers long, like spiders' legs, and when he stretched them
to their full extent he could touch the ground without stooping. Such
was little Jacob's appearance, now that he had been turned into an ugly
dwarf. He remembered the morning on which the old woman had stopped
before his mother's baskets. All that he then had found fault with in
her--viz., her long nose and ugly fingers--all these she had given him,
only omitting her long, palsied neck.

'Well, my prince, have you looked enough at yourself now?' said the
barber, stepping up to him, and surveying him with a laugh. 'Truly,
if we wished to dream of such a figure, we could hardly see one so
comical. Nevertheless I will make you a proposition, my little man. My
shaving-room is tolerably well frequented, but yet not so much as I
could wish. That arises from my neighbour, the barber Schaum, having
discovered a giant, who attracts much custom to his house. Now, to
become a giant is no great thing, after all, but to be such a little
man as you is indeed a different thing. Enter my service, little man;
you shall have board and lodging, clothes, and everything; for this you
shall stand in my doorway in the morning, and invite people to come in;
you shall beat the lather, hand the towel to the customers, and you may
be sure that we shall both make it answer; I shall get more customers
through you than my neighbour by his giant, and you will get many
presents.'

The little man felt quite indignant at the proposal of serving as a
decoy to a barber. But was he not obliged to submit patiently to this
insulting offer? He therefore quietly told the barber he had no time
for such services, and went away.

Although the evil hag had thus stunted his growth, yet she had had
no power to affect his mind, as he felt full well; for he no longer
thought and felt as he did seven years since, and believed that he had
become wiser and more sensible in the interval. He did not mourn for
the loss of his beauty, nor for his ugly appearance, but only that he
was driven from his father's door like a dog. However, he resolved to
make another trial with his mother.

He went again to her in the market, and entreated her to listen to him
patiently. He reminded her of the day on which he had gone with the
old woman; he called to her mind all the particular incidents of his
childhood, told her then how he had served seven years as a squirrel
with the fairy, and how she had changed him because he had then
ridiculed her person.

The cobbler's wife did not know what to think of all this. All that
he related of his childhood agreed with her own recollections, but
when he talked of serving seven years as a squirrel she said, 'It is
impossible; there are no fairies;' and when she looked at him she felt
a horror at the ugly dwarf, and would not believe that he could be her
son. At length she thought it would be best to talk the matter over
with her husband; therefore she took up her baskets and bade him go
with her.

On arriving at the cobbler's stall she said: 'Look, this fellow
pretends to be our lost Jacob. He has told me all the circumstances;
how he was stolen from us seven years since, and how he was enchanted
by a fairy.'

'Indeed,' interrupted the cobbler in a rage, 'has he told you this?
wait, you rogue!--I have told him all this an hour ago, and then he
goes to make a fool of you. Enchanted you have been, my little chap,
have you? Wait a bit, I will soon disenchant you!' So saying, he took a
bundle of straps that he had just cut, jumped up towards the dwarf, and
beat him on his humped back and his long arms, making the little fellow
scream with pain and run away crying.

Now in that town, as in others, there were but few of those
compassionate souls who will support a poor unfortunate man who has a
ridiculous appearance. Hence it was that the unlucky dwarf remained
all day without food, and was obliged in the evening to choose for his
night's quarters the steps of a church, though they were hard and cold.

When on the following morning the first rays of the sun awoke him, he
began seriously to think how he should earn his livelihood, now that
his father and mother had repudiated him; he was too proud to serve as
a signboard to a barber; he would not hire himself as a merry-andrew
to be exhibited: what then should he do? It now occurred to him that
as a squirrel he had made considerable progress in the culinary art,
and thought he might justly expect to prove a match for any cook; he
therefore resolved to turn his art to advantage.

As soon, therefore, as the morning had dawned, and the streets became
animated, he entered a church and performed his devotions; then he
proceeded on his way. The duke (the sovereign of the country) was a
notorious _gourmand_, who kept a good table, and sought cooks in all
parts of the world. To his palace the dwarf went. When he arrived at
the outer gate the porter asked his errand, and began to crack his
jokes on him; when he asked for the chief cook they laughed and led
him through the inner courts, and wherever he went the servants stood
still, looked at him, laughed heartily, and followed him, so that in
a short time a great posse of menials of all descriptions crowded up
the steps of the palace. The grooms threw away their curry-combs, the
running footmen ran with all their might, the carpet-spreaders ceased
beating their carpets, all crowded and thronged around him, as though
the enemy were at the gates, and the shouts of 'A dwarf, a dwarf! have
you seen the dwarf?' filled the air.

At this moment the steward of the palace, with a furious countenance
and a large whip in his hand, made his appearance at the door, crying,
'For Heaven's sake, ye hounds, what is all this uproar for? Do you not
know that our gracious master is still asleep?' At the same time he
flourished his whip, laying it rather roughly about the backs of some
grooms and porters.

'Why, sir,' they all cried, 'don't you see that we are bringing a
dwarf, such a dwarf as you never saw?' The steward suppressed a loud
laugh with difficulty when he got sight of the little man, for he was
afraid that laughter would take from his dignity. He drove them all
away with his whip except the dwarf, whom he led into the house and
asked what he wanted. Hearing that the little man wished to see the
master of the kitchen, he replied, 'You make a mistake, my little son;
I suppose you want to see me, the steward of the palace, do you not?
You wish to become dwarf to the duke, is it not so?'

'No, sir,' replied the dwarf, 'I am a clever cook and skilled in the
preparation of all sorts of choice meats; be so kind as to bring me to
the master of the kitchen; perhaps he may be in want of my skill.'

'Every one according to his wish, my little man; but you are an
inconsiderate youth. To the kitchen! why, as the duke's dwarf you would
have nothing to do and plenty to eat and drink to your heart's desire,
and fine clothes into the bargain. But we shall see; your skill in
the culinary art will hardly be such as a cook to the duke is required
to possess, and you are too good for a scullion.' As he said the last
words he took the dwarf by the hand and conducted him to the apartments
of the master of the kitchen.

On arriving there the dwarf said, with so deep a bow that his nose
touched the floor, 'Gracious sir, are you in want of a skilful cook?'

The master of the kitchen, surveying him from top to toe, burst into
a loud fit of laughter, and said, 'What, you a cook? Do you think
that our hearths are so low that you could even look on one, though
you should stand on tiptoe, and stretch your head ever so much out of
your shoulders? My good little fellow, whoever sent you here to hire
yourself out as cook has been making a fool of you.' Thus saying, the
master-cook laughed heartily, and was joined by the steward of the
palace and all the servants in the room.

But the dwarf was not to be discomposed by this. 'Of what consequence
is it to waste a few eggs, a little syrup and wine, some flour and
spice upon trial in a house where there is plenty? Give me some dainty
dish to prepare,' said he, 'procure all that is necessary for it, and
it shall be immediately prepared before your eyes, so that you shall
be constrained to avow that I am a first-rate cook.'

While the dwarf was saying all this, and many other things, it was
strange to see how his little eyes sparkled, how his long nose moved to
and fro, and his fingers, which were like spiders' legs, suited their
movements to his words.

'Well!' exclaimed the master-cook, taking the steward by the arm,
'Well! be it so for the sake of the joke, let us go to the kitchen.'

They walked through several large rooms and corridors till they came to
the kitchen. This was a large spacious building magnificently fitted
up; on twenty hearths fires were constantly burning, clear water was
flowing through the midst, serving also as a fish-pond; in cupboards of
marble and choice wood the stores were piled, which it was necessary to
have at hand for use, and on either side were ten rooms, in which were
kept all the delicious dainties for the palate which can be obtained
in all the countries of Europe and in the East. Servants of all
descriptions were running to and fro, handling and rattling kettles and
pans, with forks and ladles; but when the master-cook entered all stood
motionless, and the crackling of the fire and the rippling of the brook
were alone heard.

'What has the duke ordered for breakfast this morning?' he asked an
old cook, who always prepared the breakfast.

'Sir, His Highness has pleased to order the Danish soup, with the small
red Hamburg dumplings.'

'Well,' continued the master-cook, 'did you hear what the duke wishes
to eat? Are you bold enough to attempt this difficult dish? At all
events the dumplings you will not be able to make; that is quite a
secret.'

'Nothing easier than that,' replied the dwarf, to their astonishment;
for he had often made this dish when he was a squirrel. 'Nothing
easier, only give me the herbs, the spices, fat of a wild boar, roots
and eggs for the soup; but for the dumplings,' said he in a low voice,
so that only the master-cook and the breakfast-maker could hear, 'for
the dumplings I want various meats, wine, duck's fat, ginger, and the
herb called the stomach comforter.'

'Ah, by St. Benedict, to what enchanter have you been apprenticed?'
cried the cook in astonishment. 'You have hit all to a hair, and as to
the noted herb, we did not know of that ourselves; yes! that must make
the dish still more delicious. Oh! you miracle of a cook!'

'I should never have expected this,' said the master-cook, 'but let
us make the trial; give him all he asks for, and let him prepare the
breakfast.'

His orders were obeyed, and the necessary preparations were made on
the hearth; but they now found that the dwarf could not reach it. They
therefore put two chairs together, laid a slab of marble on them, and
asked the little wonder to step up and show his skill. In a large
circle stood the cooks, scullions, servants, and others, looking at
him in amazement, seeing how readily and quickly he proceeded, and how
cleanly and neatly he prepared everything. When he had finished he
ordered both dishes to be put to the fire, and to be boiled until he
should call out; then he began to count one, two, three, and so on up
to five hundred, when he cried out, 'Stop, take them off,' and then
invited the head cook to taste them.

The taster ordered the scullion to bring him a gold spoon, which he
first rinsed in the brook, and then gave it to the head cook. The
latter, stepping up to the hearth with a grave mien, took a spoonful,
tasted it, and shutting his eyes, smacked his lips with delight,
saying, 'Delicious! by the duke's life, delicious! Would you not like
to taste a spoonful, Mr. Steward?' The latter, bowing, took the spoon,
tasted it, and was beside himself with delight.

'With all due respect to your skill, dear breakfast-maker, you aged and
experienced cook, you have never been able to make soup or dumplings
so delicious.'

The cook also tasted it, shook the dwarf reverentially by the hand,
saying, 'My little man, you are a master of your art; yes, that herb
"stomach comforter" imparts a peculiar charm to the whole.'

At this moment the duke's valet entered the kitchen and informed them
that the duke wished his breakfast. The preparations were now dished up
on silver, and sent up to the duke; but the head cook took the dwarf
to his own room to converse with him. They had scarcely sat down long
enough to say half a paternoster when a messenger came and called the
head cook to the duke. He quickly put on his best clothes, and followed
the messenger.

The duke looked well pleased. He had eaten all they had served, and was
just wiping his beard as the master-cook entered. 'Master,' said he,
'I have hitherto always been well satisfied with your cooks; but tell
me who prepared the breakfast this morning? It never was so delicious
since I sat on the throne of my fathers; tell me the name of the cook,
that I may send him a ducat as a present.'

'My lord, this is a strange story,' replied the master; and he told
the duke that a dwarf had been brought to him that morning, who
earnestly solicited the place of a cook, and how all had happened.
The duke was greatly astonished, ordered the dwarf to appear, and
asked him who he was, and whence he came. Now poor Jacob did not
exactly wish to say that he had been enchanted, and had served as a
squirrel. But yet he adhered to truth, telling him that he now had
neither father nor mother, and had learned cooking of an old woman.
Much amused by the strange appearance of his new cook, the duke asked
no more questions, but said, 'If you wish to remain here, I will give
you fifty ducats a year, a suit of livery, and two pair of breeches
beside. Your duty shall be to prepare my breakfast yourself every
day, to give directions how the dinner shall be prepared, and to take
the general superintendence of the cooking. As each in my palace has
his proper name, you shall be called "Nose," and hold the office of
sub-master-cook.'

The dwarf prostrated himself before the mighty duke, kissed his feet,
and promised to serve him faithfully.

Thus the dwarf was for the present provided for, and did honour to
his office. And it must be remarked that the duke had become quite an
altered man since Nose, the dwarf, had been in the palace. Formerly,
he had often been pleased to throw the dishes and plates that were
served up at the heads of the cooks; indeed, he even once, in a fit
of rage, threw a fried calf's foot that was not sufficiently tender
with such violence at the head of the master-cook that the latter fell
to the ground, and was compelled for three days to keep his bed. 'Tis
true the duke made him amends for what he had done by some handfuls of
ducats, but still no cook ever came before him with his dishes without
trembling and terror.

Ever since the dwarf had been in the palace all seemed to be changed,
as if by magic. The duke, instead of three, now had five meals a day,
in order to relish properly the skill of his little servant, and yet he
never showed the least sign of discontent. Indeed, he found all new and
excellent, was kind and pleasant, and became fatter every day.

He would often in the midst of a meal send for the master-cook and the
dwarf, set one on his right, and the other on his left hand, and put
with his own gracious fingers some morsels of the delicious viands
into their mouths: a favour which both knew how to appreciate fully.
The dwarf was the wonder of the whole town, and people requested the
permission of the master-cook to see him cook, while some of the
principal folks prevailed upon the duke to permit their servants to
profit by the instructions of the dwarf in his kitchen, by which he
obtained much money, for those who came to learn paid daily half a
ducat. In order, however, to keep the other cooks in good humour, and
prevent jealousy, Nose let them have the money that was paid by the
masters for instruction.

Thus Nose lived almost two years in great comfort and honour, the
thought of his parents alone saddening him, and nothing remarkable
occurring until the following circumstance happened. The dwarf being
particularly clever, and fortunate in his purchases, went himself, as
often as time permitted, to the market, to buy poultry and fruit. One
morning he went to the poultry-market, and walking up and down inquired
for fat geese such as his master liked. His appearance, far from
creating laughter and ridicule, commanded respect, since he was known
as the duke's celebrated cook, and each poultry-woman felt herself
happy if he but turned his nose to her. At length coming to the end
of a row of stalls, he perceived in a corner a woman with geese for
sale, who did not, like the others, praise her goods, nor call to the
customers.

He stepped up to her, examined the geese, weighed them in his hand,
and finding them to his liking, bought three, with the cage they were
in, put them on his shoulders, and trotted home. It appeared singular
to him that only two of the geese cackled and cried like others, the
third being quite quiet and thoughtful, and occasionally groaning and
moaning like a human being.

'She is not well,' said he to himself; 'I must hasten to get home and
dress her.' But the goose replied, distinctly,

   'If thou stick'st me,
    Why I'll bite thee,
    And if my neck thou twistest round,
    Thou soon wilt lie below the ground.'

Quite startled, the dwarf put down the basket, and the goose, looking
at him with her fine intelligent eyes, sighed. 'Why, what have we
here?' cried Nose. 'You can talk, Miss Goose. I never expected that.
Well, make yourself easy; I know the world and will not harm so rare a
bird. But I would wager something that you have not always been covered
with feathers. Indeed I was once a poor squirrel myself.'

'You are right,' replied the goose, 'in saying I was not born with this
disgraceful disguise. Alas! it was never sung at my cradle that Mimi,
the great Wetterbock's daughter, would be killed in the kitchen of a
duke.'

'Pray be easy, dear Miss Mimi,' said the dwarf, comforting her, 'for
as sure as I am an honest fellow, and sub-master-cook to His Highness,
no one shall touch your throat. I will give you a stall in my own
apartments, you shall have enough food, and I will devote my leisure
time to converse with you. I'll tell the others in the kitchen that I
am fattening a goose with various herbs for the duke, and at the first
opportunity you shall be set at liberty.'

The goose thanked him with tears in her eyes, and the dwarf, as he
had promised, killed the other two geese, but built a stall for Mimi,
under the pretence of preserving her for some special occasion. Instead
of feeding her on grain he gave her pastry and sweetmeats. As often
as he had time he went to converse with her and comfort her. They
related their histories to each other, and Nose learnt that she was
the daughter of the enchanter, Wetterbock, who lived in the island of
Gothland. Being involved in a quarrel with an old fairy, her father had
been conquered by stratagems and cunning, and out of revenge the fairy
had changed her into a goose, and brought her to the town.

When the dwarf told his history she said, 'I am not inexperienced
in these matters, my father having given me and my sisters what
instruction he was allowed to impart. The story of the dispute at
your mother's fruit stall, your sudden metamorphosis when you smelled
the herb, as well as the words the old woman used, show me that you
are enchanted through herbs; that is to say, if you can find out the
herb of which the fairy thought when she bewitched you, you may be
disenchanted.' This was but poor consolation for the dwarf, for how
should he find the herb? Yet he thanked her and felt some hope.

About this time the duke had a visit from a neighbouring prince, his
friend. He, therefore, ordered the dwarf to appear, and said, 'Now is
the time for you to show whether you serve me faithfully and are master
of your art. The prince, who is now visiting me, keeps the best table
after me, as is well known. He is a great connoisseur in good living,
and a wise man. Let it now be your care to supply my table every day
so that his astonishment shall daily become greater. But you must not,
under pain of my displeasure, repeat the same dish during his visit.
You may ask of my treasurer all you want, and should it be needful to
fry gold and diamonds you must do it. I would rather become poor than
forfeit his good opinion of my taste.'

When the duke had concluded the dwarf bowed most respectfully, saying,
'Be it as you say, my lord; please God I shall do all to gratify the
palate of this prince of gourmands.'

The little cook now mustered all his skill. He did not spare his
master's treasures, and still less did he spare himself. He was seen
all day at the fire, enveloped by clouds of smoke, and his voice
constantly resounded through the vaults of the kitchen, for he governed
the scullions and under-cooks.

During a fortnight the foreign prince lived happily, and feasted
sumptuously with the duke. They ate not less than five times a day, and
the duke was delighted with his dwarf, seeing satisfaction expressed
on the countenance of his guest. But on the fifteenth day it happened
that the duke, while at table, sent for the dwarf, presented him to his
guest, and asked how he was satisfied with his cooking?

'You are a wonderful cook,' replied the prince, 'and know what good
living is. All the time I have been here you have not repeated a single
dish, and have prepared everything exquisitely. But pray tell me, why
have you not all this time prepared that queen of dishes, the pie
called "souzeraine"?'

The dwarf was startled at this question, for he had never heard of this
queen of pies; however, he recovered himself and replied, 'My lord, I
was in hopes that your serene countenance would shine some time yet on
this court, therefore I deferred this dish; for with what dish but the
queen of pies should the cook honour the day of your departure?'

'Indeed!' said the duke, laughing, 'I suppose then you wish to wait
for the day of my death to honour me, for you have never yet sent it
up to me. But think of another dish to celebrate the departure, for
to-morrow that pie must be on the table.'

'Your pleasure shall be done, my lord,' replied the dwarf, and retired.
But he went away uneasy, for the day of his disgrace and misfortune had
come. He did not know how to prepare this pie. He went therefore to his
chamber and wept over his fate, when the goose Mimi, who was allowed
to walk about, came up and inquired the cause of his grief. When she
heard of the pie, 'Dry your tears,' said she, 'this dish often came to
my father's table, and I know pretty well what is necessary for it;
you have only to take such and such things in certain quantities, and
should these not be all that are really necessary, I trust that the
taste of these gentlemen is not sufficiently refined to discover the
deficiency.'

At these words the dwarf danced with joy, blessed the day on which he
had purchased the goose, and set about making this queen of pies. He
first made a trial in miniature, and lo! the flavour was exquisite, and
the master-cook, to whom he gave the small pie to taste, praised his
great skill once more.

The following day he prepared the pie on a larger scale, and, after
having garnished it with flowers, sent it hot as it came from the
oven to table. After which he dressed in his best and went to the
dining-hall. On entering he found the steward engaged in carving the
pie, and presenting it on silver dishes to the duke and his guest. The
duke swallowed a large piece, turned his eyes upward, saying 'Ha! ha!
ha! justly is this called the queen of pies; but my dwarf is also a
king of cooks. Is it not so, my friend?'

His guest took a small morsel, tasted it carefully, and smiled somewhat
scornfully and mysteriously.

'The thing is made pretty well,' he replied, pushing his plate away,
'but it is not quite the Souzeraine, as I well imagined.'

At this the duke frowned with indignation, and turned red, saying, 'You
hound of a dwarf, how dare you do this to your lord? I will have your
big head cut off as a punishment for your bad cooking.'

'Ah, my lord,' said the dwarf, trembling, 'for Heaven's sake have
compassion on me; I have made that dish, indeed, according to the
proper receipt, and am sure that nothing is wanting.'

''Tis a lie, you knave,' replied the duke, giving him a kick, ''tis a
lie, else my guest would not say there was something wanting. I will
have you yourself cut up and baked in a pie.'

'Have compassion on me!' exclaimed the dwarf, shuffling on his knees
up to the prince, and clasping his feet; 'tell me what is wanting to
this pie and why it does not suit your palate: let me not die for a
handful of meat or flour.'

'This will not avail you, my good Nose,' replied the prince,
laughing; 'even yesterday I thought you would not be able to make
this dish as well as my cook. Know there is wanting a herb called
Sneeze-with-pleasure, which is not even known in this country. Without
it this pie is insipid, and your master will never eat it in such
perfection as I do.'

At this the duke flew into a rage, and cried with flashing eyes:

'I will eat it in perfection yet, for I swear by my princely honour
that by to-morrow I will either have the pie set before you, such as
you desire it, or the head of this fellow shall be spiked on the gate
of my palace. Go, you hound, I give you once more twenty-four hours!'
cried the duke.

The dwarf again went to his chamber and mourned over his fate with the
goose that he must die, as he had never heard of this herb. 'If it is
nothing more,' said she, 'I can help you out of the difficulty, as my
father has taught me to know all herbs. At any other time your death,
no doubt, would have been certain, and it is fortunate for you that we
have a new moon, as the herb is only then in flower. Now tell me, are
there any old chestnut-trees in the neighbourhood of the palace?'

'Oh yes,' replied Nose with a lighter heart, 'near the lake, about two
hundred yards from the palace, there is a clump of them; but what of
them?'

'Why,' said Mimi, 'the herb only flowers at the foot of them. Now let
us lose no time but go to fetch what you want; take me on your arm, and
put me down when we get out, that I may search for you.'

He did as she requested, and went towards the gate of the palace, but
here the porter levelled his gun and said: 'My good Nose, it is all
over with you; you must not pass; I have strict orders respecting you.'

'But I suppose I may go into the garden,' replied the dwarf. 'Be so
good as to send one of your fellow-servants to the master of the
palace, and ask whether I may not go into the garden to fetch herbs.'
The porter did so and permission was given, since, the garden having
high walls, escape was impossible. But when Nose and Mimi had got out
he put her carefully down, and she ran quickly before him towards the
lake, where the chestnuts were. He followed with a heavy heart, since
this was his last and only hope. If she did not find the herb he was
resolved rather to plunge into the lake than to have his head cut off.
The goose searched in vain under all the chestnut-trees; she turned
every herb with her beak, but no trace of the one wanted was to be
found, and she now began to cry out of compassion and fear for the
dwarf, as the evening was already growing dusk, and the objects around
were difficult to distinguish.

At this moment the dwarf cast a glance across the lake, and cried
suddenly: 'Look, look, yonder across the lake there stands a large old
tree; let us go there and search; perhaps my luck may bloom there.'
The goose hopped and flew before him, and he ran after her as quickly
as his short legs would permit him; the chestnut-tree cast a large
shade, and it was so dark around that scarcely anything could be
distinguished; but suddenly the goose stopped, flapped her wings for
joy, put her head quickly into the high grass, and plucked something
which she reached gracefully with her bill to the astonished Nose,
saying, 'There is the herb, and plenty is growing here, so that you
will never want for it.'

The dwarf looked thoughtfully at the herb, and a sweet odour arose from
it, which immediately reminded him of the scene of his metamorphosis;
the stalk and leaves were of a bluish green, bearing a glowing red
flower, with a yellow edge.

'God be praised!' he now exclaimed, 'what a miracle! I believe this is
the very herb that transformed me from a squirrel into this hideous
form; shall I make a trial, to see what effect it will have on me?'

'Not yet,' entreated the goose. 'Take a handful of this herb with you;
let us go to your room and put up all the money and whatever you have,
and then we will try the virtue of the herb.'

They did so, and went again to his room, the dwarf's heart beating
audibly with anticipation. After having put up about fifty or sixty
ducats which he had saved, he tied up his clothes in a bundle, and
said: 'If it please God, I shall get rid of my burthensome deformity.'
He then put his nose deep into the herb and inhaled its odour.

Now his limbs began to stretch and crack, he felt how his head started
from his shoulders, he squinted down on his nose and saw how it became
smaller and smaller, his back and chest became straight, and his legs
longer.

The goose viewed all this with great astonishment, exclaiming, 'Ah,
what a tall handsome fellow you have now become. God be praised, there
is no trace left in you of what you were before.' Now Jacob was highly
rejoiced; he folded his hands and prayed. But his joy did not make him
forget what he owed to Mimi the goose; his heart indeed urged him to
go to his parents, yet from gratitude he overcame his wish and said,
'To whom but to you am I indebted that I am again restored to my former
self? Without you I should never have found this herb, but should
have continued for ever in that form, or else have died under the axe
of the executioner. Well, I will repay you. I will bring you back to
your father; he being so experienced in magic will be able easily to
disenchant you.'

The goose shed tears of joy and accepted his offer. Jacob fortunately
escaped unknown from the palace with his goose, and started on his way
for the sea-coast towards Mimi's home.

It is needless to add that their journey was successful, that
Wetterbock disenchanted his daughter, and dismissed Jacob laden with
presents, that the latter returned to his native town, that his parents
with delight recognised in the handsome young man their lost son, that
he, with the presents that he had received, purchased a shop and became
wealthy and happy.

Only this much may be added, that after his departure from the duke's
palace there was great consternation, for when, on the next morning,
the duke was about to fulfil his oath, and to have the dwarf beheaded
in case he had not discovered the herbs, he was nowhere to be found;
and the prince maintained that the duke had let him escape secretly
rather than lose his best cook, and accused him of breaking his word
of honour. This circumstance gave rise to a great war between the two
princes, which is well known in history by the name of the 'Herb War.'
Many battles were fought, but at length a peace was concluded, which is
now called the 'Pie Peace,' because at the festival of reconciliation
the Souzeraine, queen of pies, was prepared by the prince's cook, and
relished by the duke in the highest degree.

Thus the most trifling causes often lead to the greatest result; and
this, reader, is the story of 'Nose, the Dwarf.'


THE END


_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh_




Transcriber's note


Words in italics have been surrounded with _underscores_ and small
capitals changed to all capitals.

On page 78 "hat" was changed to "that" (so that it sounded like).
Otherwise the original was preserved, including inconsistent
hyphenation.





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