{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_45606/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_45606","id":"gutenberg_45606","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45606","summary":null,"tags":["Category: German Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Category: Short Stories","Children's stories"],"text":"THE CHILDREN'S\n  LIBRARY\n\n  [Illustration]\n\n  THE\n  LITTLE GLASS MAN\n\n  [Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: _From a wash drawing by James Pryde_\n\n  \"FAT HEZEKIEL\"]\n\n\n\n\n  THE\n  LITTLE GLASS MAN\n  AND OTHER STORIES\n\n  FROM THE GERMAN\n  OF\n  WILHELM HAUFF\n\n  _ILLUSTRATED_\n\n  NEW YORK: MACMILLAN & CO.\n  LONDON: T. FISHER UNWIN\n  1894\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                              PAGE\n  HOW THE STORIES WERE FOUND. BY L. ECKENSTEIN   1\n\n  THE LITTLE GLASS MAN                          15\n\n  THE STORY OF THE CALIPH STORK                 83\n\n  THE STORY OF LITTLE MUCK                     100\n\n  NOSE, THE DWARF                              130\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nHOW THE STORIES WERE FOUND\n\nBY L. ECKENSTEIN\n\n\nFairy Queen sat in her office drinking afternoon tea. Fairy Queen,\nthinking how she could please children best, had turned publisher.\nShe had come to London, she had taken an office up a steep flight of\nstairs, and had sent out her fairies all over Europe in search of\nchildren's books. Off they had gone in all directions, and so many\nmanuscripts and books had been sent in or brought back by them, that\nFairy Queen published volume after volume of the Children's Library,\nand still there remained a lot of work to be done.\n\nThere she sat now thinking over the tales she had published and over\nthose she was planning to publish, as the clock of St. Paul's slowly\nstruck five. Fairy Queen poured out a last cup of tea; she finished\nsorting a heap of letters which she packed away in the drawers of her\nwriting-table, and listened in the direction of the room next to hers.\nThere were steps on the stairs coming and going. Then there was a good\ndeal of banging about the room, and Fairy Queen's ear caught snatches\nof a song.\n\nIn that room were stored books, and manuscripts, and letters and brown\npaper parcels, and there by the side of the big, big waste-paper basket\nof Fairy Queen's publishing firm, sat Gogul Mogul reading manuscripts.\nGogul Mogul was a long-legged creature, with a tiny head, who had come\nout of Fairyland to help publish tales suitable for child readers.\nHe was devoted to Fairy Queen, and read through piles and piles of\nmanuscript with great perseverance, though he frequently groaned,\nlonging to be back in Fairyland.\n\nBut he was not groaning now. As Fairy Queen opened the door calling to\nhim, he was lightly dancing a double shuffle and waving a telegram to\nthe tune. At sight of her he burst into a joyous laugh.\n\n'Her absence need not cast a shadow on us all,' he cried; 'the fairy\nfrom Germany is on her way home. She telegraphs to me from Dover; she\nwill be here in time for the fairies' meeting. And having passed the\nseas and crossed the sands, she found the story of the Little Glass Man\nat last.'\n\n'A good thing, a good thing,' said Fairy Queen, taking the telegram;\n'as it is, I have lost all patience with her. From France, from\nIreland, from Greece, even from Russia, numbers of tales have arrived.\nAnd from Germany, so much nearer to us, so much more literary, nothing\ncomes. Just as though there were not plenty of fairy tales to be found\nthere! But I have no doubt she has wasted so much time looking for\nthese special stories, just because you had set your heart on having\nthem.'\n\n'Upon my word,' Gogul Mogul said. And he jumped over his toes, a feat\nhe was fond of performing, serenely smiling at the large blot of ink\nwhich ornamented his forefinger.\n\n'Of course you will meet her at the station,' said Fairy Queen; 'see\nher home, and call for her again in a cab. The meeting begins at nine;\nall the fairies who are in town will be there. And mind you do not keep\nus waiting as you did last month!'\n\nHer tone was severe; but Gogul Mogul went on smiling his sweetest\nsmile, while he muttered to himself--\n\n   'Then skilful most, when most severely judged,\n    But chance it not.'\n\nA few hours later daylight had passed away and a bright moon looked\ndown into the thronged thoroughfare of Holborn, putting to shame the\nyellow lights of the gas lamps and the glare of the few shop windows\nthat were lit up by electric light. Into side courts and up winding\nalleys the moon made her way, and poured down full into a narrow\npassage up which ladies' figures, bundled in ulsters and shawls, were\nhurrying in twos and threes.\n\nUnder an arched doorway they disappeared. The moon could not look round\nthe corner, but above there was a row of arched stone windows. She\nlooked in at these into a long large wainscotted old hall, and there\nshe found those figures and knew them again.\n\nI doubt if you would have known them. I should not myself but that I\nhad been helping downstairs in the cloak-room, taking hats and wraps\nand ulsters, even one pair of goloshes, and mixing them up for the\nsurprise of seeing what lovely creatures came out from those dark\nclothes. Have you ever seen a butterfly squeeze out of a chrysalis, I\nwonder? Have you seen those shining creatures shake themselves free\nfrom their dark covering, take flight, and vanish away? But those\nlovely creatures whose cloaks I helped to ticket could not vanish away\nfrom me altogether. Like the moon, I managed to find them again.\n\nFor I knew of a small window upstairs from which one could overlook the\nold hall. When there were smoking concerts this window was open for\nventilation to let out the smoke; to-night it should be open for me to\npeep in. So when the old lady in the cloak-room said she required my\nhelp no longer, she thought it was time for me to go to bed; I said\n'Thank you,' and went upstairs and made my way along the passages to\nthe small window, and sat close to it and looked down into the old hall.\n\nOh, the colour, the movement, the loveliness of it all! I once went\nto a pantomime and saw the Transformation Scene with all the fairies.\nIt was very beautiful and a little like what I saw now. Only there\nthe fairies were all made up with painted faces, and curls which had\nnot grown on their heads, while here you could see at a glance that\neverything was quite real. And they were so lovely, these fairies! I\nmade myself comfortable at the window, no one could see me from below.\nOnly the moon from the big window opposite stared me full in the face.\n'No matter what _you_ think,' I said, nodding at her; 'don't _you_ talk\nabout inquisitiveness. Why there isn't a window or a cranny but you\ntake a peep in if you get the chance!'\n\nDown below, at one end of the hall, there was a raised platform; on\nthis, in the largest of the chairs, sat Fairy Queen with a crown\non her head and a long silver train. A few other fairies, all with\nlong trains, sat by her, and the rest moved about in the hall. In\none corner, just below where I sat, there was a long table, on which\nwere set out plates with pasties and sweets and sandwiches; there\nwere coloured glasses also and flagons of wine. Near the table stood\nGogul Mogul greeting the fairies as they arrived and handing them\nrefreshments. He was dressed in green tights, his hair stood up in a\ngreat mop. Among all those ladies he was the only gentleman; but he\nknew his importance, and he looked it.\n\n'Oh yes, she has come,' I heard him say in answer to inquiries; 'what\nheart could wish for more! she is without, putting herself straight.\nDid you say raspberry tart or cherry tart?' he asked, turning to a\nfairy. And taking up a flagon, he quoted--\n\n   'Here plenty's liberal horn shall pour,\n    Of fruits for thee a copious shower.'\n\nSuddenly there was a stir, the door had opened and a fairy came in\ndressed in the bluest of blues. Gogul Mogul went up to her; she came\nto the table and ate a sandwich; then he led her by the hand to the\nupper end of the room, where Fairy Queen and the other grand fairies\nrose to receive her. They talked of her long absence, then of other\nthings. But I was not listening; I was watching Gogul Mogul, who had\ncome back to the refreshment table, where, all the fairies having been\nhelped, he proceeded to help himself. I have seen school-boys in bun\nshops, and school-girls settling down to a feast of chocolate creams;\nin these I have sometimes joined myself. But never before, never since,\ndid I see the like of Gogul Mogul. Sandwich after sandwich, tart after\ntart, he put into his mouth; there was no choosing, no hesitation, no\npause, till every bit of the food off the dishes had gone. And then--it\nsounds nonsense, and no one will believe it possible who has not seen\nit done--he turned up the cloth at one end of the table, then at the\nother, and went on rolling and rolling it up over plates and dishes and\nglasses and flagons, till there was nothing left but a small napkin,\nwhich he squeezed into the breast-pocket slit of his tight green\nclothes.\n\nI looked up and straight at the moon, who seemed to be smiling. 'Is it\na dream,' I thought, 'is it a practical joke, or is it really a meeting\nof the Women's Gossip Revival Society, as they said downstairs?'\n\nThe Blue Fairy was now sitting on the platform, all the other fairies\ntoo had taken seats. Gogul Mogul, the wonderful Gogul Mogul, who well\ndeserved the title of Food Destroyer to Her Majesty, sauntered up to\nthe platform, where he sat down by the side of Fairy Queen.\n\nFairy Queen then rose and said: 'This night being the Full Moon\nwe have met as usual to hear what the fairies have to report about\nchildren's books and child-readers; how the children have liked the\nstories, and what they think of them. But as the Blue Fairy has just\narrived from Germany, where she has been so long, I propose to call on\nher to tell us some of her adventures.'\n\nThere was a great clapping of hands at this. Gogul Mogul stood up,\nbowed to the Blue Fairy, and said: 'A feast of reason and a flow of\nsoul!' at which there was renewed clapping of hands.\n\nThe Blue Fairy hesitated, she fingered the gold spangles of her dress,\nshe shook back her curls. Then she began:\n\n'Germany is a wonderful country. It is very big as you know, and very\ndifferent in places; the parts I like best are the large forests which\nextend uphill and downhill for many many miles. We all hope to go back\nto Fairyland some day, but next to going there we could not do better\nthan settle in one of these German forests; with the squirrels playing\nabout, and the birds singing, and the little streams bubbling between\nthe moss-grown rocks, I really felt quite at home there. The folk live\nin the queerest of houses, and are dressed in the queerest of clothes;\nand there can be nothing funnier than the dear little children, who\ncome a long distance over the hills to school, walking barefoot, and\nwho sit down outside the schoolhouse and put on their stockings and\nshoes before they go in, as if wearing shoes and stockings were part of\ndoing lessons. Well, I went to stay in the Black Forest first; Gogul\nMogul told me it was there I must go to hear about the Little Glass\nMan. I believe he knew him as a boy when the Little Glass Man used to\nvisit in Fairyland. But I travelled about on coaches painted a bright\nyellow, I stayed about in old-fashioned sunny village inns, I heard\nabout many wonderful things, but I could not find out anything about\nthe Little Glass Man. Had he left those parts, had people forgotten\nabout him?\n\n'One afternoon I had been in a saw-mill watching the saw go up and\ndown through the long pine-wood trunk which slowly moved along to\nmeet it, to the sound of the splashing wheel outside going round and\nround. Every time the saw had cut through the length of the trunk it\nstopped, there was a great rush of water outside, a little bell was\nset tinkling, and then the sawyer, or the saw-miller, as they call him\nover there, wound the trunk back and set the saw so as to cut the next\nplank, and then the whole thing was again set going. It was curious\nwatching the sawdust jerked up, and the huge block of timber cut\nlengthwise into so many planks, and the miller going in and out over\nthe sawdust. I felt quite sorry when at last he stopped the little bell\nwithout setting the saw going again, and came and stood by me.\n\n'Then we talked about this and that, and I asked him about the Little\nGlass Man; he must know so many woodmen who felled the trees and\nbrought the timber to the mill; had they ever met him?\n\n'The miller was a big rough man with a stubbly beard; I don't know if\nhe was at all deaf, but when he spoke it was so loud that he must have\nthought me dull of hearing.\n\n'\"Take my advice,\" he said, \"if you want to know about the country go\ninto the town. Don't expect us to know about Little Glass Men, or other\nlittle men; we don't care for such things. But in the town you are sure\nto find all about it stored away in some book. Take my advice, go into\na town; it is there that you find out about things in the country.\"\n\n'Was he right? I wondered as I walked home that night. I could not\nbelieve it, so I stayed on in the Black Forest till it was time to come\nhome, but without ever hearing of the Little Glass Man. I was on the\nrailroad again. It was early one morning when we stopped at a station;\nthere was no train for two hours, so I took a walk into the town.\nThere was a clear, fast-flowing river below, and in the distance again\nsuch wonderful wooded hills. I went into a shop and asked for some\nwriting-paper.\n\n'The gentleman who brought it out had on the shabbiest of coats, but on\nhis head there was an embroidered velvet cap, and his slippers too were\nembroidered. Only his toes were stuck inside these, and he moved about\nthe shop slowly so as not to leave them behind.\n\n'\"And what is the name of that wood yonder?--those hills, I mean?--those\nwooded heights?--that mountain range?\" I asked, trying word after word,\nand at last standing in the doorway and pointing at the hills opposite,\nwhile he blankly stared at me.\n\n'\"Where can you be from that you should not know?\" he said at last.\n\n'\"I am from England,\" I said rather hotly, \"from London, a small place\nyou may have heard of.\"\n\n'He nodded, \"Oh yes, I know. You have not come all that way alone;\nsurely a lady by herself....\"\n\n'\"Oh yes I have,\" I said, \"and I have a good mind to go up among those\nhills by myself too; perhaps some one up there might tell me what they\nare called.\"\n\n'\"Look here,\" he said, \"if you really mean to go, let me lend you my\nmap. I have got such a splendid one. And I shan't be using it for\nmonths, as there is no one to mind the shop for me.\"\n\n'He brought it out of a drawer and unfolded it, while I stared in my\nturn.\n\n'\"You see,\" he said, \"that is the highest point; now be sure you don't\nmiss seeing that. You see Forsthaus Diana marked; well there is the\ninn, that spot close to it. That is where all those wonderful stories\nwere told.\"\n\n'\"What stories?\" I said; \"nothing about the Little Glass Man, I\nsuppose?\"\n\n'He went to the back of the shop and fumbled about.\n\n'\"Yes, of course, about the Little Glass Man, and about the Golden\nFlorin,\" he said; \"even if you live in an out-of-the-way place like\nLondon, you must have heard of them. Here is the book; stories by\nHauff. Dear me, to think that my father met the man more than once who\nstored up all these treasures! You can take the book as well as the\nmap, if you like; if you are not coming back this way you can send them\nby any one who is.\"\n\n'There was no chair in the shop, I had to support myself against the\ncounter, I felt so overcome with having found the story at last. The\ngentleman went on pointing out the best way to go, and what I must see,\nand after half an hour it was all settled, my luggage was to be sent up\none way and I was to go another.\n\n'\"I am glad you will see the old inn standing where the stories were\ntold,\" he said, \"and you will be quite comfortable at the forest-house\nDiana. If I were you I should tell the lady-forester at once that you\nare an English girl, and no Nihilist; that is what she is sure to think\nif she sees a girl travelling about by herself. Tell her I sent you\nthere, and give my love to her niece Malchen, a wild little girl but a\ngood one, I feel sure, whatever they say to the contrary.\"'\n\nAt this point of her narrative the Blue Fairy stopped. There was a\npause.\n\n'Well?' said Gogul Mogul. 'Go on, please go on,' the fairies called in\nthe audience.\n\n'There is nothing more to tell,' said the Blue Fairy; 'the story of\nthe Little Glass Man was found. I read it through the next afternoon,\nsitting in the garden of the inn where the student had originally told\nit. Then I went back into the forest-house Diana, and sat chatting in\nthe kitchen with the lady-forester while the apples and potatoes for\nthe pigs were stewing, and Malchen sat by eating sour milk from a great\nearthenware bowl. But of course that has nothing to do with the finding\nof the stories. Only it was so enjoyable up there, it was so delightful\nwalking with that splendid map, and reading those stories, and making\nfriends with a charcoal-burner who was quite like Peter Munk, and\nlooking on while huge bits of timber were felled, that I stayed on and\non. Only of course there was the work of translating the stories into\nEnglish.'\n\nAgain the Blue Fairy stopped; there was prolonged cheering and clapping\nof hands. It was Fairy Queen who spoke next:\n\n'All this is very interesting,' she said, 'and so, I feel sure, is a\ngreat deal more which the Blue Fairy could tell us about Germany. But\nshe has been travelling all day, she must be tired, we must not ask for\nmore to-night; only I am sure you must all be wanting to hear the story\nabout this Little Glass Man. As for myself, I am most anxious to hear\nwhat he was like and what he did. As the fairy has translated the story\ninto English, and Gogul Mogul is sure to have the manuscript about him,\nI propose calling on him to read it to us.'\n\nThere was long and loud cheering at this among the fairies. Gogul Mogul\nfumbled first in one pocket, then in another; at last he brought out a\nroll of manuscript and began as follows:\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nTHE LITTLE GLASS MAN\n\n\nThose who travel through Swabia should always remember to cast a\npassing glance into the Schwarzwald,[1] not so much for the sake of\nthe trees (though pines are not found everywhere in such prodigious\nnumbers, nor of such a surpassing height), as for the sake of\nthe people, who show a marked difference from all others in the\nneighbourhood. They are taller than ordinary men, broad-shouldered,\nstrong-limbed, and it seems as if the bracing air which blows through\nthe pines in the morning, had allowed them, from their youth upwards,\nto breathe more freely, and had given them a clearer eye and a firmer,\nthough ruder, mind than the inhabitants of the valleys and plains. The\nstrong contrast they form to the people living without the limits of\nthe \"Wald,\" consists, not merely in their bearing and stature, but\nalso in their manners and costume. Those of the Schwarzwald of the\nBaden territory dress most handsomely; the men allow their beards to\ngrow about the chin just as nature gives it; and their black jackets,\nwide trousers, which are plaited in small folds, red stockings, and\npainted hats surrounded by a broad brim, give them a strange, but\nsomewhat grave and noble appearance. Their usual occupations are the\nmanufacturing of glass, and the so-called Dutch clocks, which they\ncarry about for sale over half the globe.\n\n      [Footnote 1: The Black Forest.]\n\nAnother part of the same race lives on the other side of the\nSchwarzwald; but their occupations have made them contract manners and\ncustoms quite different from those of the glass manufacturers. Their\n_Wald_ supplies their trade; felling and fashioning their pines, they\nfloat them through the _Nagold_ into the _Neckar_, from thence down the\nRhine as far as Holland; and near the sea the _Schwarzw\u00e4lder_ and their\nlong rafts are well known. Stopping at every town which is situated\nalong the river, they wait proudly for purchasers of their beams and\nplanks; but the strongest and longest beams they sell at a high price\nto Mynheers, who build ships of them. Their trade has accustomed them\nto a rude and roving life, their pleasure consisting in drifting down\nthe stream on their timber, their sorrow in wandering back again along\nthe shore. Hence the difference in their costume from that of the\nglass manufacturers. They wear jackets of a dark linen cloth, braces\na hand-breadth wide, displayed over the chest, and trousers of black\nleather, from the pocket of which a brass rule sticks out as a badge of\nhonour; but their pride and joy are their boots, which are probably the\nlargest that are worn in any part of the world, for they may be drawn\ntwo spans above the knee, and the raftsmen may walk about in water at\nthree feet depth without getting their feet wet.\n\nIt is but a short time ago that the belief in hobgoblins of the wood\nprevailed among the inhabitants, this foolish superstition having\nbeen eradicated only in modern times. But the singularity about these\nhobgoblins who are said to haunt the Schwarzwald, is, that they also\nwear the different costumes of the people. Thus it is affirmed of the\nLittle Glass Man, a kind little sprite three feet and a half high, that\nhe never shows himself except in a painted little hat with a broad\nbrim, a doublet, white trousers, and red stockings; while Dutch Michel,\nwho haunts the other side of the forest, is said to be a gigantic,\nbroad-shouldered fellow wearing the dress of a raftsman; and many who\nhave seen him say they would not like to pay for the calves whose\nhides it would require to make one pair of his boots, affirming that,\nwithout exaggeration, a man of the middle height may stand in one of\nthem with his head only just peeping out.\n\nThe following strange adventure with these spirits is said to have\nonce befallen a young Schwarzw\u00e4lder:--There lived a widow in the\nSchwarzwald whose name was Frau Barbara Munk; her husband had been a\ncharcoal-burner, and after his death she had by degrees prevailed upon\nher boy, who was now sixteen years old, to follow his father's trade.\nYoung Peter Munk, a sly fellow, submitted to sit the whole week near\nthe smoking stack of wood, because he had seen his father do the same;\nor, black and sooty and an abomination to the people as he was, to\ndrive to the nearest town and sell his charcoal. Now a charcoal-burner\nhas much leisure for reflection, about himself and others; and when\nPeter Munk was sitting by his stack, the dark trees around him, as\nwell as the deep stillness of the forest, disposed his heart to tears,\nand to an unknown secret longing. Something made him sad, and vexed\nhim, without his knowing exactly what it was. At length, however, he\nfound out the cause of his vexation,--it was his condition. 'A black,\nsolitary charcoal-burner,' he said to himself; 'it is a wretched\nlife. How much more are the glass manufacturers, and the clock-makers\nregarded; and even the musicians, on a Sunday evening! And when Peter\nMunk appears washed, clean, and dressed out in his father's best jacket\nwith the silver buttons and bran-new red stockings--if then, any one\nwalking behind him, thinks to himself, \"I wonder who that smart fellow\nis?\" admiring, all the time, my stockings and stately gait;--if then,\nI say, he passes me and looks round, will he not say, \"Why, it is only\nPeter Munk, the charcoal-burner\"?'\n\nThe raftsmen also on the other side of the wood were an object of envy\nto him. When these giants of the forest came over in their splendid\nclothes, wearing about their bodies half a hundredweight of silver,\neither in buckles, buttons, or chains, standing with sprawling legs\nand consequential look to see the dancing, swearing in Dutch, and\nsmoking Cologne clay pipes a yard long, like the most noble Mynheers,\nthen he pictured to himself such a raftsman as the most perfect model\nof human happiness. But when these fortunate men put their hands into\ntheir pocket, pulled out handfuls of thalers and staked a Sechsb\u00e4tzner\npiece upon the cast of a die, throwing their five or ten florins to\nand fro, he was almost mad and sneaked sorrowfully home to his hut.\nIndeed he had seen some of these gentlemen of the timber trade, on\nmany a holy-day evening, lose more than his poor old father had gained\nin the whole year. There were three of these men in particular of\nwhom he knew not which to admire most. The one was a tall stout man\nwith ruddy face, who passed for the richest man in the neighbourhood;\nhe was usually called 'fat Hezekiel.' Twice every year he went with\ntimber to Amsterdam, and had the good luck to sell it so much dearer\nthan the others that he could return home in a splendid carriage, while\nthey had to walk. The second was the tallest and leanest man in the\nwhole _Wald_, and was usually called 'the tall Schlurker'; it was his\nextraordinary boldness that excited Munk's envy, for he contradicted\npeople of the first importance, took up more room than four stout\nmen, no matter how crowded the inn might be, setting either both his\nelbows upon the table, or drawing one of his long legs on the bench;\nyet, notwithstanding all this, none dared to oppose him, since he\nhad a prodigious quantity of money. The third was a handsome young\nfellow, who being the best dancer far around, was called 'the king of\nthe dancing-room.' Originally poor, he had been servant to one of the\ntimber merchants, when all at once he became immensely rich; for which\nsome accounted by saying he had found a potful of money under an old\npine tree, while others asserted that he had fished up in the Rhine,\nnear Bingen, a packet of gold coins with the spear which these raftsmen\nsometimes throw at the fish as they go along in the river, that packet\nbeing part of the great 'Niebelungenhort,' which is sunk there. However\nthis might be, the fact of his suddenly becoming rich caused him to be\nlooked upon as a prince by young and old.\n\nOften did poor Peter Munk the coal-burner think of these three men when\nsitting alone in the pine forest. All three indeed had one great fault,\nwhich made them hated by everybody; this was their insatiable avarice,\ntheir heartlessness towards their debtors and towards the poor, for the\nSchwarzw\u00e4lder are naturally a kind-hearted people. However, we all know\nhow it is in these matters; though they were hated for their avarice,\nyet they commanded respect on account of their money, for who but they\ncould throw away thalers, as if they could shake them from the pines?\n\n'This will do no longer,' said Peter one day to himself, when he\nfelt very melancholy, it being the morrow after a holiday, when\neverybody had been at the inn; 'if I don't soon thrive I shall make\naway with myself; oh that I were as much looked up to and as rich as\nthe stout Hezekiel, or as bold and powerful as the tall Schlurker, or\nas renowned as the king of the dancing-room, and could, like him,\nthrow thalers instead of kreutzers to the musicians! I wonder where\nthe fellow gets his money!' Reflecting upon all the different means\nby which money may be got, he could please himself with none, till at\nlength he thought of the tales of those people who, in times of old,\nhad become rich through the Dutchman Michel, or the Little Glass Man.\nDuring his father's lifetime other poor people often came to call, and\nthen their conversation was generally about rich persons, and the means\nby which they had come by their riches; in these discourses the Little\nGlass Man frequently played a conspicuous part. Now, if Peter strained\nhis memory a little, he could almost recall the short verse which one\nmust repeat near the Tannenb\u00fchl in the heart of the forest, to make the\nsprite appear. It began as follows--\n\n   'Keeper of wealth in the forest of pine,\n    Hundreds of years are surely thine:\n    Thine is the tall pine's dwelling place--'\n\nBut he might tax his memory as much as he pleased, he could remember no\nmore of it. He often thought of asking some aged person what the whole\nverse was. However, a certain fear of betraying his thoughts kept him\nback, and moreover he concluded that the legend of the Little Glass Man\ncould not be very generally known, and that but few were acquainted\nwith the incantation, since there were not many rich persons in the\nWald;--if it were generally known, why had not his father, and other\npoor people, tried their luck? At length, however, he one day got his\nmother to talk about the little man, and she told him what he knew\nalready, as she herself remembered only the first line of the verse;\nbut she added that the sprite would show himself only to those who had\nbeen born on a Sunday, between eleven and two o'clock. He was, she\nsaid, quite fit for evoking him, as he was born at twelve o'clock at\nnoon; if he but knew the verse.\n\nWhen Peter Munk heard this he was almost beside himself with joy and\ndesire to try the adventure. It appeared to him enough to know part\nof the verse, and to be born on a Sunday, for the Little Glass Man to\nshow himself. Consequently when he one day had sold his charcoal, he\ndid not light a new stack, but put on his father's holiday jacket, his\nnew red stockings, and best hat, took his blackthorn stick, five feet\nlong, into his hand, and bade farewell to his mother, saying, 'I must\ngo to the magistrate in the town, for we shall soon have to draw lots\nwho is to be soldier, and therefore I wish to impress once more upon\nhim that you are a widow, and I am your only son.' His mother praised\nhis resolution; but he started for the Tannenb\u00fchl. This lies on the\nhighest point of the Schwarzwald, and not a village or even a hut was\nfound, at that time, for two leagues around, for the superstitious\npeople believed it was haunted; they were even very unwilling to fell\ntimber in that part, though the pines were tall and excellent, for\noften the axes of the wood-cutters had flown off the handle into their\nfeet, or the trees falling suddenly, had knocked the men down, and\neither injured or even killed them; moreover, they could have used\nthe finest trees from there only for fuel, since the raftsmen never\nwould take a trunk from the Tannenb\u00fchl as part of a raft, there being\na tradition that both men and timber would come to harm if they had a\ntree from that spot on the water. Hence the trees there grew so dense\nand high that it was almost night at noon. When Peter Munk approached\nthe place, he felt quite awe-stricken, hearing neither voice nor\nfootstep except his own; no axe resounded, and even the birds seemed to\nshun the darkness amidst the pines.\n\nPeter Munk had now reached the highest point of the Tannenb\u00fchl, and\nstood before a pine of enormous girth, for which a Dutch shipbuilder\nwould have given many hundred florins on the spot. 'Here,' said he,\n'the treasure-keeper (Schatzhauser) no doubt lives;' and pulling off\nhis large hat, he made a low bow before the tree, cleared his throat,\nand said with a trembling voice, 'I wish you a good evening, Mr.\nGlass Man.' But receiving no answer, and all around remaining silent\nas before, he thought it would probably be better to say the verse,\nand therefore murmured it forth. On repeating the words he saw, to\nhis great astonishment, a singular and very small figure peep forth\nfrom behind the tree. It seemed to him as if he had beheld the Little\nGlass Man, just as he was described; the little black jacket, red\nstockings, hat, all even to the pale, but fine shrewd countenance of\nwhich the people talked so much, he thought he had seen. But alas, as\nquickly as it had peeped forth, as quickly it had disappeared again.\n'Mr. Glass Man,' cried Peter Munk, after a short hesitation, 'pray\ndon't make a fool of me; if you fancy that I have not seen you, you\nare vastly mistaken; I saw you very well peeping forth from behind the\ntree.' Still no answer; only at times he fancied he heard a low, hoarse\ntittering behind the tree. At length his impatience conquered this\nfear, which had still restrained him, and he cried, 'Wait, you little\nrascal, I will have you yet.' At the same time he jumped behind the\ntree, but there was no Schatzhauser, and only a pretty little squirrel\nwas running up the tree.\n\nPeter Munk shook his head; he saw he had succeeded to a certain degree\nin the incantation, and that he perhaps only wanted one more rhyme to\nthe verse to evoke the Little Glass Man; he tried over and over again,\nbut could not think of anything. The squirrel showed itself on the\nlowest branches of the tree, and seemed to encourage or perhaps to mock\nhim. It trimmed itself, it rolled its pretty tail, and looked at him\nwith its cunning eyes. At length he was almost afraid of being alone\nwith this animal; for sometimes it seemed to have a man's head and to\nwear a three-cornered hat, sometimes to be quite like another squirrel,\nwith the exception only of having red stockings and black shoes on its\nhind feet. In short, it was a merry little creature, but still Peter\nfelt an awe, fancying that all was not right.\n\nPeter now went away with more rapid strides than he had come. The\ndarkness of the forest seemed to become blacker and blacker; the trees\nstood closer to each other, and he began to be so terrified that he\nran off in a trot, and only became more tranquil when he heard dogs\nbark at a distance, and soon after descried the smoke of a hut through\nthe trees. But on coming nearer and seeing the dress of the people,\nhe found that having taken the contrary direction, he had got to the\nraftsmen instead of the glass-makers. The people living in the hut were\nwood-cutters, consisting of an aged man with his son, who was the\nowner, and some grown-up grandchildren. They received Peter Munk, who\nbegged a night's quarter, hospitably enough without asking his name or\nresidence; they gave him cider to drink, and in the evening a large\nblack cock, the best meal in the Schwarzwald, was served up for supper.\n\nAfter this meal the housewife and her daughters took their distaffs\nand sat round a large pine torch, which the boys fed with the finest\nrosin; the host with his guest sat smoking and looking at the women;\nwhile the boys were busy carving wooden spoons and forks. The storm was\nhowling and raging through the pines in the forest without, and now\nand then very heavy blasts were heard, and it was as if whole trees\nwere breaking off and crashing down. The fearless youths were about to\nrun out to witness this terrific and beautiful spectacle, but their\ngrandfather kept them back with a stern look and these words: 'I would\nnot advise any of you,' cried he, 'to go now outside the door; by\nheavens he never would return, for Michel the Dutchman is building this\nnight a new raft in the forest.'\n\nThe younger of them looked at him with astonishment, having probably\nheard before of Michel, but they begged their grandpapa to tell them\nsome interesting story of him. Peter Munk, who had heard but confused\nstories of Michel the Dutchman on the other side of the forest, joined\nin this request, asking the old man who and where he was. 'He is the\nlord of the forest,' was the answer; 'and from your not having heard\nthis at your age, it follows that you must be a native of those parts\njust beyond the Tannenb\u00fchl, or perhaps still more distant. But I will\ntell you all I know, and how the story goes about him. A hundred years\nago or thereabouts, there were far and wide no people more upright\nin their dealings than the Schwarzw\u00e4lder, at least so my grandfather\nused to tell me. Now, since there is so much money in the country,\nthe people are dishonest and bad. The young fellows dance and riot on\nSundays, and swear to such a degree that it is horrible to hear them;\nwhereas formerly it was quite different, and I have often said and now\nsay, though he should look in through the window, that the Dutchman\nMichel is the cause of all this depravity. A hundred years ago there\nlived a very rich timber merchant who had many servants; he carried his\ntrade far down the Rhine and was very prosperous, being a pious man.\nOne evening a person such as he had never seen came to his door; his\ndress was like that of the young fellows of the Schwarzwald, but he was\nfull a head taller than any of them, and no one had ever thought there\ncould be such a giant. He asked for work, and the timber merchant,\nseeing he was strong, and able to carry great weights, agreed with\nhim about the wages and took him into his service. He found Michel to\nbe a labourer such as he had never yet had; for in felling trees he\nwas equal to three ordinary men, and when six men were pulling at one\nend of a trunk he would carry the other end alone. After having been\nemployed in felling timber for six months, he came one day before his\nmaster, saying, \"I have now been cutting wood long enough here, and\nshould like to see what becomes of my trunks; what say you to letting\nme go with the rafts for once?\" To which his master replied, \"I have no\nobjection, Michel, to your seeing a little of the world; to be sure I\nwant strong men like yourself to fell the timber, and on the river all\ndepends upon skill; but, nevertheless, be it for this time as you wish.\"\n\n'Now the float with which Michel was to go consisted of eight rafts,\nand in the last there were some of the largest beams. But what then?\nThe evening before starting the tall Michel brought eight beams to\nthe water, thicker and longer than had ever been seen, and he carried\nevery one of them as easily upon his shoulder as if it had been a\nrowing-pole, so that all were amazed. Where he had felled them, no one\nknows to this day. The heart of the timber merchant was leaping with\njoy when he saw this, calculating what these beams would fetch; but\nMichel said, \"Well, these are for me to travel on; with those chips I\nshould not be able to get on at all.\" His master was going to make him\na present of a pair of boots, but throwing them aside, Michel brought\nout a pair the largest that had ever been seen, and my grandfather\nassured me they weighed a hundred pounds and were five feet long.\n\n'The float started; and if Michel had before astonished the\nwood-cutters, he perfectly astonished the raftsmen; for his raft,\ninstead of drifting slowly down the river as they thought it would,\nby reason of the immense beams, darted on like an arrow, as soon as\nthey came into the Neckar. If the river took a turn, or if they came\nto any part where they had a difficulty in keeping the middle stream,\nor were in danger of running aground, Michel always jumped into the\nwater, pushing his float either to the right or to the left, so that\nhe glided past without danger. If they came to a part where the river\nran straight, Michel often sprang to the foremost raft, and making all\nput up their poles, fixed his own enormous pole in the sand, and by\none push made the float dart along, so that it seemed as if the land,\ntrees, and villages were flying by them. Thus they came in half the\ntime they generally took to Cologne on the Rhine, where they formerly\nused to sell their timber. Here Michel said, \"You are but sorry\nmerchants and know nothing of your advantage. Think you these Colognese\nwant all the timber from the Schwarzwald for themselves? I tell you no,\nthey buy it of you for half its value, and sell it dear to Holland. Let\nus sell our small beams here, and go to Holland with the large ones;\nwhat we get above the ordinary price is our own profit.\"\n\n'Thus spoke the subtle Michel, and the others consented; some because\nthey liked to go and see Holland, some for the sake of the money. Only\none man was honest, and endeavoured to dissuade them from putting\nthe property of their master in jeopardy or cheating him out of the\nhigher price. However, they did not listen to him and forgot his\nwords, while Michel forgot them not. So they went down the Rhine\nwith the timber, and Michel, guiding the float, soon brought them to\nRotterdam. Here they were offered four times as much as at Cologne, and\nparticularly the large beams of Michel fetched a very high sum. When\nthe Schwarzw\u00e4lders beheld the money, they were almost beside themselves\nwith joy. Michel divided the money, putting aside one-fourth for their\nmaster, and distributing the other three among the men. And now they\nwent into the public-houses with sailors and other rabble, squandering\ntheir money in drinking and gambling; while the honest fellow who had\ndissuaded them was sold by Michel to a slave-trader, and has never been\nheard of since. From that time forward Holland was a paradise to the\nfellows from the Schwarzwald, and the Dutchman Michel their king. For\na long time the timber merchants were ignorant of this proceeding, and\nbefore people were aware, money, swearing, corrupt manners, drunkenness\nand gambling were imported from Holland.\n\n'When the thing became known, Michel was nowhere to be found, but he\nwas not dead; for a hundred years he has been haunting the forest, and\nis said to have helped many in becoming rich at the cost of their souls\nof course: more I will not say. This much, however, is certain, that to\nthe present day, in boisterous nights, he finds out the finest pines\nin the Tannenb\u00fchl where people are not to fell wood; and my father\nhas seen him break off one of four feet diameter, as he would break a\nreed. Such trees he gives to those who turn from the right path and go\nto him; at midnight they bring their rafts to the water and he goes to\nHolland with them. If I were lord and king in Holland, I would have\nhim shot, for all the ships that have but a single beam of Michel's,\nmust go to the bottom. Hence it is that we hear of so many shipwrecks;\nif it were not so, how could a beautiful, strong ship as large as\na church go down. But as often as Michel fells a pine in the forest\nduring a boisterous night, one of his old ones starts from its joints,\nthe water enters, and the ship is lost, men and all. So far goes the\nlegend of the Dutchman Michel; and true it is that all the evil in the\nSchwarzwald dates from him. Oh! he can make one rich,' added the old\nman mysteriously; 'but I would have nothing from him; I would at no\nprice be in the shoes of fat Hezekiel and the long Schlurker. The king\nof the dancing-room, too, is said to have made himself over to him.'\n\nThe storm had abated during the narrative of the old man; the girls\ntimidly lighted their lamps and retired, while the men put a sackful\nof leaves upon the bench by the stove as a pillow for Peter Munk, and\nwished him good-night.\n\nNever in his life had Peter such heavy dreams as during this night;\nsometimes he fancied the dark gigantic Michel was tearing the window\nopen and reaching in with his monstrous long arm a purse full of gold\npieces, which jingled clearly and loudly as he shook them; at another\ntime he saw the little friendly Glass Man riding upon a huge green\nbottle about the room, and thought he heard again the same hoarse\nlaughter as in the Tannenb\u00fchl; again something hummed into his left ear\nthe following verse--\n\n   'In Holland I wot,\n    There's gold to be got,\n    Small price for a lot,\n    Who would have it not?'\n\nAgain he heard in his right ear the song of the Schatzhauser in the\ngreen forest, and a soft voice whispered to him, 'Stupid Coal-Peter,\nstupid Peter Munk, you cannot find a rhyme with \"place,\" and yet are\nborn on a Sunday at twelve o'clock precisely. Rhyme, dull Peter, rhyme!'\n\nHe groaned, he wearied himself to find a rhyme, but never having made\none in his life, his trouble in his dream was fruitless. When he awoke\nthe next morning with the first dawn, his dream seemed strange to him;\nhe sat down at the table with his arms crossed, and meditated upon the\nwhisperings that were still ringing in his ears. He said to himself,\n'Rhyme, stupid Peter, rhyme,' knocking his forehead with his finger,\nbut no rhyme would come. While still sitting in this mood, looking\ngloomily down before him and thinking of a rhyme with 'place,' he heard\nthree men passing outside and going into the forest, one of whom was\nsinging--\n\n   'I stood upon the brightest place,\n    I gazed upon the plain,\n    And then--oh then--I saw that face,\n    I never saw again.'\n\nThese words flashed like lightning through Peter's ear, and hastily\nstarting up, he rushed out of the house, thinking he was mistaken in\nwhat he had heard, ran after the three fellows and seized, suddenly and\nrudely, the singer by the arm, crying at the same time, 'Stop, friend,\nwhat was it you rhymed with \"place\"? Do me the favour to tell me what\nyou were singing.'\n\n'What possesses you, fellow?' replied the Schwarzw\u00e4lder. 'I may sing\nwhat I like; let go my arm, or----'\n\n'No, you shall tell me what you were singing,' shouted Peter, almost\nbeside himself, clutching him more tightly at the same time. When the\nother two saw this, they were not long in falling foul upon poor Peter\nwith their large fists, and belabouring him till the pain made him\nrelease the third, and he sank exhausted upon his knees.\n\n'Now you have your due,' said they, laughing; 'and mark you, madcap,\nnever again stop people like us upon the highway.'\n\n'Woe is me!' replied Peter with a sigh, 'I shall certainly recollect\nit. But now that I have had the blows, you will oblige me by telling\nme plainly what he was singing.' To this they laughed again and mocked\nhim; but the one who had sung repeated the song to him, after which\nthey went away laughing and singing.\n\n'\"Face,\"' then said the poor belaboured Peter as he got up slowly,\n'will rhyme with \"place\"; now, Little Glass Man, I will have another\nword with you.' He went into the hut, took his hat and long stick, bade\nfarewell to the inmates, and commenced his way back to the Tannenb\u00fchl.\nBeing under the necessity of inventing a verse, he proceeded slowly\nand thoughtfully on his way; at length, when he was already within the\nprecincts of the Tannenb\u00fchl, and the trees became higher and closer, he\nfound his verse, and for joy cut a caper in the air. All at once he saw\ncoming from behind the trees a gigantic man dressed like a raftsman,\nwho held in his hand a pole as large as the mast of a ship. Peter\nMunk's knees almost gave way under him, when he saw him slowly striding\nby his side, thinking he was no other than the Dutchman Michel. Still\nthe terrible figure kept silence, and Peter cast a side glance at him\nfrom time to time. He was full a head taller than the biggest man\nPeter had even seen; his face expressed neither youth nor old age, but\nwas full of furrows and wrinkles; he wore a jacket of linen, and the\nenormous boots being drawn above his leather breeches, were well known\nto Peter from hearsay.\n\n'What are you doing in the Tannenb\u00fchl, Peter Munk?' asked the wood king\nat length, in a deep, roaring voice.\n\n'Good morning, countryman,' replied Peter, wishing to show himself\nundaunted, but trembling violently all the while.\n\n'Peter Munk,' replied Michel, casting a piercing, terrible glance at\nhim, 'your way does not lie through this grove.'\n\n'True, it does not exactly,' said Peter, 'but being a hot day, I\nthought it would be cooler here.'\n\n'Do not lie, Peter,' cried Michel, in a thundering voice, 'or I strike\nyou to the ground with this pole; think you I have not seen you begging\nof the little one?' he added mildly. 'Come, come, confess it was a\nsilly trick, and it is well you did not know the verse; for the little\nfellow is a skinflint, giving but little; and he to whom he gives is\nnever again cheerful in his life. Peter, you are but a poor fool and I\npity you in my soul; you, such a brisk, handsome fellow, surely could\ndo something better in the world than make charcoal. While others\nlavish big thalers and ducats, you can scarcely spend a few pence; 'tis\na wretched life.'\n\n'You are right, it is truly a wretched life.'\n\n'Well,' continued Michel, 'I will not stand upon trifles; you would not\nbe the first honest good fellow whom I have assisted at a pinch. Tell\nme, how many hundred thalers do you want for the present?' shaking the\nmoney in his huge pocket, as he said this, so that it jingled just\nas Peter had heard it in his dream. But Peter's heart felt a kind of\npainful convulsion at these words, and he was cold and hot alternately;\nfor Michel did not look as if he would give away money out of charity,\nwithout asking anything in return. The old man's mysterious words about\nrich people occurred to him, and urged by an inexplicable anxiety and\nfear, he cried, 'Much obliged to you, sir, but I will have nothing\nto do with you and know you well,' and at the same time he began to\nrun as fast as he could. The wood spirit, however, strode by his side\nwith immense steps, murmuring and threatening, 'You will repent it,\nPeter; it is written on your forehead and to be read in your eyes that\nyou will not escape me. Do not run so fast, listen only to a single\nrational word; there is my boundary already.' But Peter, hearing this\nand seeing at a little distance before him a small ditch, hastened\nthe more to pass this boundary, so that Michel was obliged at length\nto run faster, cursing and threatening while pursuing him. With a\ndesperate leap Peter cleared the ditch, for he saw that the wood spirit\nwas raising his pole to dash it upon him; having fortunately reached\nthe other side, he heard the pole shatter to pieces in the air as if\nagainst an invisible wall, and a long piece fell down at his feet.\n\nHe picked it up in triumph to throw it at the rude Michel; but in an\ninstant he felt the piece of wood move in his hand, and, to his horror,\nperceived that he held an enormous serpent, which was raising itself up\ntowards his face with its venomous tongue and glistening eyes. He let\ngo his hold, but it had already twisted itself tight round his arm and\ncame still closer to his face with its vibrating head; at this instant,\nhowever, an immense black cock rushed down, seized the head of the\nserpent with its beak, and carried it up in the air. Michel, who had\nobserved all this from the other side of the ditch, howled, cried, and\nraved when he saw the serpent carried away by one more powerful than\nhimself.\n\nExhausted and trembling, Peter continued his way; the path became\nsteeper, the country wilder, and soon he found himself before the large\npine. He again made a bow to the invisible Little Glass Man, as he had\ndone the day before, and said--\n\n   'Keeper of wealth in the forest of pine,\n    Hundreds of years are surely thine,\n    Thine is the tall pine's dwelling place,\n    Those born on Sunday see thy face.'\n\n'You have not quite hit it,' said a delicate fine voice near him, 'but\nas it is you, Peter, I will not be particular.' Astonished he looked\nround, and lo! under a beautiful pine there sat a little old man in\na black jacket, red stockings, and a large hat on his head. He had\na tiny affable face and a little beard as fine as a spider's web;\nand strange to see, he was smoking a pipe of blue glass. Nay, Peter\nobserved to his astonishment, on coming nearer, that the clothes,\nshoes, and hat of the little man were also of coloured glass, which was\nas flexible as if it were still hot, bending like cloth to every motion\nof the little man.\n\n'You have met the lubber Michel, the Dutchman?' asked the little man,\nlaughing strangely between each word. 'He wished to frighten you\nterribly; but I have got his magic cudgel, which he shall never have\nagain.'\n\n'Yes, Mr. Schatzhauser,' replied Peter, with a profound bow, 'I was\nterribly frightened. But I suppose the black cock was yourself, and\nI am much obliged to you for killing the serpent. The object of my\nvisit to you, however, is to ask your advice; I am in very poor\ncircumstances, for charcoal-burning is not a profitable trade; and\nbeing still young I should think I might be made something better,\nseeing so often as I do how other people have thriven in a short time;\nI need only mention Hezekiel, and the king of the dancing-room, who\nhave money like dirt.'\n\n'Peter,' said the little man gravely, blowing the smoke of his pipe\na long way off, 'don't talk to me of these men. What good have they\nfrom being apparently happy for a few years here, and the more unhappy\nfor it afterwards? you must not despise your trade; your father and\ngrandfather were honest people, Peter Munk, and they carried on the\nsame trade. Let me not suppose it is love of idleness that brings you\nto me.'\n\nPeter was startled at the gravity of the little man, and blushed. 'No,\nMr. Schatzhauser,' said he; 'idleness is the root of every vice, but\nyou cannot blame me, if another condition pleases me better than my\nown. A charcoal-burner is, in truth, a very mean personage in this\nworld; the glass manufacturer, the raftsmen, and clock-makers, are\npeople much more looked upon.'\n\n'Pride will have a fall,' answered the little man of the pine wood,\nrather more kindly. 'What a singular race you are, you men! It is\nbut rarely that one is contented with the condition in which he was\nborn and bred, and I would lay a wager that if you were a glass\nmanufacturer, you would wish to be a timber merchant, and if you were\na timber merchant you would take a fancy to the ranger's place, or the\nresidence of the bailiff. But no matter for that; if you promise to\nwork hard, I will get you something better to do. It is my practice\nto grant three wishes to those born on a Sunday, who know how to find\nme out. The first two are quite free from any condition, the third I\nmay refuse, should it be a foolish one. Now, therefore, Peter, say your\nwishes; but mind you wish something good and useful.'\n\n'Hurrah!' shouted Peter; 'you are a capital glass man, and justly do\npeople call you the treasure-keeper, for treasures seem to be plentiful\nwith you. Well, then, since I may wish what my heart desires, my\nfirst wish is that I may be able to dance better than the king of the\ndancing-room, and to have always as much money in my pocket as fat\nHezekiel.'\n\n'You fool!' replied the little man angrily, 'what a paltry wish is\nthis, to be able to dance well and to have money for gambling. Are you\nnot ashamed of this silly wish, you blockish Peter? Would you cheat\nyourself out of good fortune? What good will you and your poor mother\nreap from your dancing well? What use will money be to you, which,\naccording to your wish, is only for the public-house, there to be spent\nlike that of the wretched king of the dancing-room? And then you will\nhave nothing for the whole week and starve. Another wish is now left\nfree to you; but have a care to desire something more rational.'\n\nPeter scratched himself behind his ears, and said, after some\nhesitation, 'Now I wish for the finest and richest glass factory in the\nSchwarzwald, with everything appertaining to it, and money to carry it\non.'\n\n'Is that all?' asked the little man, with a look of anxiety; 'is there\nnothing else, Peter?'\n\n'Why you might add a horse and chaise.'\n\n'Oh, you stupid Peter!' cried the little man, while he flung his\nglass pipe against a thick pine so that it broke in a hundred pieces.\n'Horses? a carriage? Sense, I tell you, sense--common sense and\njudgment you ought to have wished for, but not a horse and chaise.\nCome, come, don't be so sad, we will do all we can to make it turn out\nfor the best, even as it is, for the second wish is on the whole not\naltogether foolish. A good glass factory will support its man; but you\nought to have wished for judgment and sense in addition; a horse and\nchaise would come as a matter of course.'\n\n'But, Mr. Schatzhauser,' replied Peter, 'I have another wish left, and\nmight very well wish for sense, if I am so much in need of it, as you\nseem to think.'\n\n'Say no more about it. You will get involved in many an embarrassment\nyet, when you will be glad of being at liberty to obtain your third\nwish. And now proceed on your way home.' Drawing a small bag from his\npocket, he said: 'There are two thousand florins; let that be enough,\nand don't come again asking for money, for, if you do, I must hang you\nup to the highest pine. That is the way I have always acted ever since\nI have lived in the forest. Three days ago old Winkfritz died, who had\na large glass factory in the Unterwald. Go there to-morrow morning,\nand make a fair offer for it. Look well to yourself. Be prudent and be\nindustrious; I will come to see you from time to time, and assist you\nwith word and deed, since you have not wished for common sense. But\nI must repeat it seriously; your first wish was evil. Guard against\nfrequenting the public-house, Peter; no one who did so ever prospered\nlong.' The little man, while thus talking to him, had taken a new pipe,\nof the most beautiful glass, from his pocket, charged it with dry\nfir-apples, and stuck it into his little toothless mouth. Then drawing\nout a large burning-glass, he stepped into the sun and lighted it. When\nhe had done this, he kindly offered his hand to Peter, added a few\nmore words of salutary advice which he might carry on his way, puffed\nand blew still faster, and finally disappeared in a cloud of smoke,\nwhich smelled of genuine Dutch canaster, and, slowly curling upwards,\nvanished amidst the tops of the pines.\n\nOn his arrival home, Peter found his mother in great anxiety about\nhim, for the good dame thought in reality her son had been drawn among\nthe recruits. He, however, was in great glee and full of hope, and\nrelated to her how he had met with a good friend in the forest, who\nhad advanced him money to begin another trade. Although his mother had\nbeen living for thirty years in a charcoal-burner's hut, and was as\nmuch accustomed to the sight of sooty people as any miller's wife is to\nthe floury face of her husband, yet, as soon as her Peter showed her a\nmore splendid lot, she was vain enough to despise her former condition,\nand said: 'In truth, as the mother of a man who possesses a glass\nmanufactory, I shall indeed be something different from neighbour Kate\nand Betsy, and shall in future sit more consequentially at church among\nthe people of quality.' Her son soon came to terms with the heir of the\nglass manufactory. He kept the workmen he found, and made them work day\nand night at manufacturing glass. At first he was pleased well enough\nwith his new trade; he was in the habit of walking leisurely into the\nfactory, striding up and down with an air of consequence and with his\nhands in his pockets, looking now in one corner, now in another, and\ntalking about various things at which his workmen often used to laugh\nheartily. His chief delight, however, was to see the glass blown, when\nhe would often set to work himself, and form the strangest figures of\nthe soft mass. But he soon took a dislike to the work; first he came\nonly for an hour in the day, then only every other day, and finally\nonly once a week, so that his workmen did just what they liked. All\nthis came from his frequenting the public-house. The Sunday after he\nhad come back from the Tannenb\u00fchl he went to the public-house, and who\nshould be jumping there already but the king of the dancing-room; fat\nHezekiel also was already sitting by a quart pot, playing at dice for\ncrown-pieces. Now Peter quickly put his hand into his pocket to feel\nwhether the Little Glass Man had been true to his word, and lo! his\npockets were stuffed full of silver and gold. He also felt an itching\nand twitching in his legs, as if they wished to dance and caper. When\nthe first dance was over, he took his place with his partner at the\ntop next to the king of the dancing-room; and if the latter jumped\nthree feet high, Peter jumped four; if he made fantastic and graceful\nsteps, Peter twined and twisted his legs in such a manner that all\nthe spectators were utterly amazed with delight and admiration. But\nwhen it was rumoured in the dancing-room that Peter had bought a glass\nmanufactory, and when people saw that Peter, as often as he passed\nthe musicians, threw a six-b\u00e4tzner piece to them, there was no end\nof astonishment. Some thought he had found a treasure in the forest,\nothers were of opinion that he had succeeded to some fortune, but all\nrespected him now, and considered him a made man, simply because he\nhad plenty of money. Indeed that very evening he lost twenty florins\nat play, and yet his pockets jingled and tingled as if there were a\nhundred thalers in them.\n\nWhen Peter saw how much respected he was, he could no longer contain\nhimself with joy and pride. He threw away handfuls of money and\ndistributed it profusely among the poor, knowing full well as he did\nhow poverty had formerly pinched him. The feats of the king of the\ndancing-room were completely eclipsed by those of the new dancer, and\nPeter was surnamed the 'emperor of the dancing-room.' The most daring\ngamblers did not stake so much as he did on a Sunday, neither did they,\nhowever, lose so much; but then, the more he lost, the more he won.\nThis was exactly what he had demanded from the Little Glass Man; for\nhe had wished he might always have as much money in his pocket as fat\nHezekiel, and it was to this very man he lost his money. If he lost\ntwenty or thirty florins at a stroke, they were immediately replaced\nin his own pocket, as soon as Hezekiel pocketed them. By degrees he\ncarried his revelling and gambling further than the worst fellows\nin the Schwarzwald, and he was oftener called 'gambling Peter' than\n'emperor of the dancing-room,' since he now gambled almost all days\nof the week. In consequence of his imprudence, his glass manufactory\ngradually fell off. He had manufactured as much as ever could be made,\nbut he had failed to purchase, together with the factory, the secret\nof disposing of it most profitably. At length it accumulated to such a\ndegree that he did not know what to do with it, and sold it for half\nprice to itinerant dealers in order to pay his workmen.\n\nWalking homewards one evening from the public-house, he could not, in\nspite of the quantity of wine he had drunk to make himself merry, help\nthinking with terror and grief of the decline of his fortune. While\nengaged in these reflections, he all at once perceived some one walking\nby his side. He looked round, and behold it was the Little Glass Man.\nAt the sight of him he fell into a violent passion, protested solemnly,\nand swore that the little man was the cause of all his misfortune.\n'What am I to do now with the horse and chaise?' he cried; 'of what use\nis the manufactory and all the glass to me? Even when I was merely a\nwretched charcoal-burner, I lived more happily, and had no cares. Now\nI know not when the bailiff may come to value my goods and chattels,\nand seize all for debt.'\n\n'Indeed?' replied the Little Glass Man, 'indeed? I am then the cause\nof your being unfortunate. Is that your gratitude for my benefits? Who\nbade you wish so foolishly? A glass manufacturer you wished to be, and\nyou did not know where to sell your glass! Did I not tell you to be\ncautious in what you wished for? Common sense, Peter, and prudence, you\nwanted.'\n\n'A fig for your sense and prudence,' cried Peter; 'I am as shrewd a\nfellow as any one, and will prove it to you, Little Glass Man,' seizing\nhim rudely by the collar as he spoke these words, and crying, 'Have I\nnow got you, Schatzhauser? Now I will tell you my third wish, which you\nshall grant me. I'll have instantly, on the spot, two hundred thousand\nhard thalers and a house. Woe is me!' he cried, suddenly shaking his\nhand, for the little man of the wood had changed himself into red-hot\nglass, and burned in his hand like bright fire. Nothing more was to be\nseen of him.\n\nFor several days his swollen hand reminded him of his ingratitude and\nfolly. Soon, however, he silenced his conscience, saying: 'Should they\nsell my glass, manufactory and all, still fat Hezekiel is certain to\nme; and as long as he has money on a Sunday, I cannot want.'\n\n'Very true, Peter! But, if he has none?' And so it happened one day,\nand it proved a singular example in arithmetic. For he came one Sunday\nin his chaise to the inn, and at once all the people popped their\nheads out of the windows, one saying, 'There comes gambling Peter;'\na second saying, 'Yes, there is the emperor of the dancing-room, the\nwealthy glass manufacturer;' while a third shook his head, saying, 'It\nis all very well with his wealth, but people talk a great deal about\nhis debts, and somebody in town has said that the bailiff will not wait\nmuch longer before he distrains upon him.'\n\nAt this moment the wealthy Peter saluted the guests at the windows in a\nhaughty and grave manner, descended from his chaise, and cried: 'Good\nevening, mine Host of the Sun. Is fat Hezekiel here?'\n\nTo this question a deep voice answered from within: 'Only come in,\nPeter; your place is kept for you; we are all here at the cards\nalready.'\n\nPeter entering the parlour, immediately put his hand into his pocket,\nand perceived, by its being quite full, that Hezekiel must be\nplentifully supplied. He sat down at the table among the others and\nplayed, losing and winning alternately; thus they kept playing till\nnight, when all sober people went home. After having continued for\nsome time by candle-light, two of the gamblers said: 'Now it is enough,\nand we must go home to our wives and children.'\n\nBut Peter challenged Hezekiel to remain. The latter was unwilling, but\nsaid, after a while, 'Be it as you wish; I will count my money, and\nthen we'll play dice at five florins the stake, for anything lower is,\nafter all, but child's play.' He drew his purse, and, after counting,\nfound he had a hundred florins left; now Peter knew how much he himself\nhad left, without counting first. But if Hezekiel had won before,\nhe now lost stake after stake, and swore most awfully. If he cast a\n_pasch_, Peter immediately cast one likewise, and always two points\nhigher. At length he put down the last five florins on the table,\nsaying, 'Once more; and if I lose this stake also, yet I will not leave\noff; you will then lend me some of the money you have won now, Peter;\none honest fellow helps the other.'\n\n'As much as you like, even if it were a hundred florins,' replied\nPeter, joyful at his gain, and fat Hezekiel rattled the dice and threw\nup fifteen; 'Pasch!' he exclaimed, 'now we'll see!' But Peter threw up\neighteen, and, at this moment, a hoarse, well-known voice said behind\nhim, 'So! that was the last.'\n\nHe looked round, and behind him stood the gigantic figure of Michel\nthe Dutchman. Terrified, he dropped the money he had already taken up.\nBut fat Hezekiel, not seeing Michel, demanded that Peter should advance\nhim ten florins for playing. As if in a dream, Peter hastily put his\nhand into his pocket, but there was no money; he searched in the other\npocket, but in vain; he turned his coat inside out, not a farthing,\nhowever, fell out; and at this instant he first recollected his first\nwish, viz. to have always as much money in his pocket as fat Hezekiel.\nAll had now vanished like smoke.\n\nThe host and Hezekiel looked at him with astonishment as he still\nsearched for and could not find his money; they would not believe that\nhe had no more left; but when they at length searched his pockets,\nwithout finding anything, they were enraged, swearing that gambling\nPeter was an evil wizard, and had wished away all the money he had won\nhome to his own house. Peter defended himself stoutly, but appearances\nwere against him. Hezekiel protested he would tell this shocking story\nto all the people in the Schwarzwald, and the host vowed he would the\nfollowing morning early go into the town and inform against Peter as a\nsorcerer, adding that he had no doubt of his being burnt alive. Upon\nthis they fell furiously upon him, tore off his coat, and kicked him\nout of doors.\n\nNot one star was twinkling in the sky to lighten Peter's way as he\nsneaked sadly towards his home, but still he could distinctly recognise\na dark form striding by his side, which at length said, 'It is all over\nwith you, Peter Munk; all your splendour is at an end, and this I could\nhave foretold you even at the time when you would not listen to me, but\nrather ran to the silly glass dwarf. You now see to what you have come\nby disregarding my advice. But try your fortune with me this time, I\nhave compassion on your fate. No one ever yet repented of applying to\nme, and if you don't mind the walk to the Tannenb\u00fchl, I shall be there\nall day to-morrow and you may speak to me, if you will call.' Peter now\nvery clearly perceived who was speaking to him, but feeling a sensation\nof awe, he made no answer and ran towards home.\n\nWhen, on the Monday morning, he came to his factory, he not only found\nhis workmen, but also other people whom no one likes to see, viz. the\nbailiff and three beadles. The bailiff wished Peter good morning,\nasked him how he had slept, and then took from his pocket a long list\nof Peter's creditors, saying, with a stern look, 'Can you pay or not?\nBe short, for I have no time to lose, and you know it is full three\nleagues to the prison.' Peter in despair confessed he had nothing left,\ntelling the bailiff he might value all the premises, horses and carts.\nBut while they went about examining and valuing the things, Peter said\nto himself, 'Well, it is but a short way to the Tannenb\u00fchl, and as the\n_little_ man has not helped me, I will now for once try the _big_ man.'\nHe ran towards the Tannenb\u00fchl as fast as if the beadles were at his\nheels. On passing the spot where the Little Glass Man had first spoken\nto him, he felt as if an invisible hand were stopping him, but he tore\nhimself away and ran onwards till he came to the boundary which he\nhad well marked. Scarcely had he, quite out of breath, called 'Dutch\nMichel, Mr. Dutch Michel!' when suddenly the gigantic raftsman with his\npole stood before him.\n\n'Have you come then?' said the latter, laughing. 'Were they going\nto fleece you and sell you to your creditors? Well, be easy, all\nyour sorrow comes, as I have always said, from the Little Glass Man,\nthe Separatist and Pietist. When one gives, one ought to give right\nplentifully and not like that skinflint. But come,' he continued,\nturning towards the forest, 'follow me to my house, there we'll see\nwhether we can strike a bargain.'\n\n'Strike a bargain?' thought Peter. 'What can he want of me, what can\nI sell to him? Am I perhaps to serve him, or what is it that he can\nwant?' They went at first uphill over a steep forest path, when all at\nonce they stopped at a dark, deep, and almost perpendicular ravine.\nMichel leaped down as easily as he would go down marble steps; but\nPeter almost fell into a fit when he saw him below, rising up like a\nchurch steeple, reaching him an arm as long as a scaffolding pole, with\na hand at the end as broad as the table in the ale-house, and calling\nin a voice which sounded like the deep tones of a death bell, 'Set\nyourself boldly on my hand, hold fast by the fingers and you will not\nfall off.' Peter, trembling, did as he was ordered, sat down upon his\nhand and held himself fast by the thumb of the giant.\n\nThey now went down a long way and very deep, yet, to Peter's\nastonishment, it did not grow darker; on the contrary, the daylight\nseemed rather to increase in the chasm, and it was some time before\nPeter's eyes could bear it. Michel's stature became smaller as Peter\ncame lower down, and he stood now in his former size before a house\njust like those of the wealthy peasants of the Schwarzwald. The room\ninto which Peter was led differed in nothing but its appearance of\nsolitariness from those of other people. The wooden clock, the stove\nof Dutch tiles, the broad benches and utensils on the shelves were the\nsame as anywhere else. Michel told him to sit down at the large table,\nthen went out of the room and returned with a pitcher of wine and\nglasses. Having filled these, they now began a conversation, and Dutch\nMichel expatiated on the pleasures of the world, talked of foreign\ncountries, fine cities and rivers, so that Peter, at length, feeling a\nyearning after such sights, candidly told Michel his wish.\n\n'If you had courage and strength in your body to undertake anything,\ncould a few palpitations of your stupid heart make you tremble; and the\noffences against honour, or misfortunes, why should a rational fellow\ncare for either? Did you feel it in your head when they but lately\ncalled you a cheat and a scoundrel? Or did it give you a pain in your\nstomach, when the bailiff came to eject you from your house? Tell me,\nwhere was it you felt pain?'\n\n'In my heart,' replied Peter, putting his hand on his beating breast,\nfor he felt as if his heart was anxiously turning within him.\n\n'Excuse me for saying so, but you have thrown away many hundred\nflorins on vile beggars and other rabble; what has it profited you?\nThey have wished you blessings and health for it; well, have you\ngrown the healthier for that? For half that money you might have\nkept a physician. A blessing, a fine blessing, forsooth, when one\nis distrained upon and ejected! And what was it that urged you put\nyour hand into your pocket, as often as a beggar held out his broken\nhat?--Why your heart again, and ever your heart, neither your eyes, nor\nyour tongue, nor your arms, nor your legs, but your heart; you have, as\nthe proverb truly says, taken too much to heart.'\n\n'But how can we accustom ourselves to act otherwise? I take, at\nthis moment, every possible pains to suppress it, and yet my heart\npalpitates and pains me.'\n\n'You, indeed, poor fellow!' cried Michel, laughing; 'you can do nothing\nagainst it; but give me this scarcely palpitating thing, and you will\nsee how comfortable you will then feel.'\n\n'My heart to you?' cried Peter, horrified. 'Why, then, I must die on\nthe spot! Never!'\n\n'Yes, if one of your surgeons would operate upon you and take out your\nheart, you must indeed die; but with me it is a different thing; just\ncome in here and convince yourself.'\n\nRising at these words, he opened the door of a chamber and took Peter\nin. On stepping over the threshold, his heart contracted convulsively,\nbut he minded it not, for the sight that presented itself was singular\nand surprising. On several shelves glasses were standing, filled with\na transparent liquid, and each contained a heart. All were labelled\nwith names which Peter read with curiosity; there was the heart of\nthe bailiff in F., that of fat Hezekiel, that of the king of the\ndancing-room, that of the ranger; there were the hearts of six usurious\ncorn merchants, of eight recruiting officers, of three money-brokers;\nin short, it was a collection of the most respectable hearts twenty\nleagues around.\n\n'Look!' said Dutch Michel, 'all these have shaken off the anxieties\nand cares of life; none of these hearts any longer beat anxiously and\nuneasily, and their former owners feel happy now they have got rid of\nthe troublesome guest.'\n\n'But what do they now carry in their breasts instead?' asked Peter,\nwhose head was nearly swimming at what he beheld.\n\n'_This_,' replied he, taking out of a small drawer, and presenting to\nhim--a heart of stone.\n\n'Indeed!' said Peter, who could not prevent a cold shuddering coming\nover him. 'A heart of marble? But, tell me, Mr. Michel, such a heart\nmust be very cold in one's breast.'\n\n'True, but very agreeably cool. Why should a heart be warm? For in\nwinter its warmth is of little use, and good strong Kirschwasser does\nmore than a warm heart, and in summer when all is hot and sultry, you\ncan't think how cooling such a heart is. And, as before said, such a\nheart feels neither anxiety nor terror, neither foolish compassion nor\nother grief.'\n\n'And that is all you can offer me?' asked Peter indignantly; 'I looked\nfor money and you are going to give me a stone.'\n\n'Well! an hundred thousand florins, methinks, would suffice you for the\npresent. If you employ it properly, you may soon make it a million.'\n\n'An hundred thousand!' exclaimed the poor coal-burner, joyfully. 'Well,\ndon't beat so vehemently in my bosom, we shall soon have done with\none another. Agreed, Michel, give me the stone and the money, and the\nalarum you may take out of its case.'\n\n'I always thought you were a reasonable fellow,' replied Michel, with a\nfriendly smile; 'come, let us drink another glass, and then I will pay\nyou the money.'\n\nThey went back to the room and sat down again to the wine, drinking one\nglass after another till Peter fell into a profound sleep.\n\nHe was awakened by the cheerful blast of a post-boy's bugle, and found\nhimself sitting in a handsome carriage, driving along on a wide road.\nOn putting his head out he saw in the airy distance the Schwarzwald\nlying behind him. At first he could scarcely believe that it was his\nown self sitting in the carriage, for even his clothes were different\nfrom those he had worn the day before; but still he had such a distinct\nrecollection that, giving up at length all these reflections, he\nexclaimed, 'I am Peter and no other, that is certain.'\n\nHe was astonished that he could not, in the slightest degree, feel\nmelancholy now that he for the first time departed from his quiet home\nand the forests where he had lived so long. He could not even press a\ntear out of his eyes or utter a sigh, when he thought of his mother,\nwho must now feel helpless and wretched; for he was indifferent to\neverything: 'Well,' he said, 'tears and sighs, yearning for home and\nsadness, proceed indeed from the heart, but thanks to Dutch Michel,\nmine is of stone and cold.' Putting his hand upon his breast, he felt\nall quiet and no emotion. 'If Michel,' said he, beginning to search the\ncarriage, 'keeps his word as well with respect to the hundred thousand\nflorins as he does with the heart, I shall be very glad.' In his search\nhe found articles of dress of every description he could wish, but\nno money. At length, however, he discovered a pocket containing many\nthousand thalers in gold, and bills on large houses in all the great\ncities. 'Now I have what I want,' thought he, squeezed himself into the\ncorner of the carriage and went into the wide world.\n\nFor two years he travelled about in the world, looked from his carriage\nto the right and left up the houses, but whenever he alighted he\nlooked at nothing except the sign of the hotel, and then ran about\nthe town to see the finest curiosities. But nothing gladdened him, no\npictures, no building, no music, no dancing, nor anything else had\nany interest for, or excited his stone heart; his eyes and ears were\nblunted for everything beautiful. No enjoyment was left him but that\nwhich he felt in eating and drinking and sleep; and thus he lived\nrunning through the world without any object, eating for amusement and\nsleeping from _ennui_. From time to time he indeed remembered that\nhe had been more cheerful and happier, when he was poor and obliged\nto work for a livelihood. Then he was delighted by every beautiful\nprospect in the valley, by music and song, then he had for hours looked\nin joyful expectation towards the frugal meal which his mother was to\nbring him to the kiln.\n\nWhen thus reflecting on the past, it seemed very strange to him that\nnow he could not even laugh, while formerly he had laughed at the\nslightest joke. When others laughed, he only distorted his mouth out of\npoliteness, but his heart did not sympathise with the smile. He felt he\nwas indeed exceedingly tranquil, but yet not contented. It was not a\nyearning after home, nor was it sadness, but a void, desolate feeling,\nsatiety and a joyless life that at last urged him to his home.\n\nWhen, after leaving Strasburg, he beheld the dark forest of his native\ncountry; when for the first time he again saw the robust figures, the\nfriendly and open countenances of the Schwarzw\u00e4lder; when the homely,\nstrong, and deep, but harmonious sounds struck upon his ear, he quickly\nput his hand upon his heart, for his blood flowed faster, thinking he\nmust rejoice and weep at the same time; but how could he be so foolish?\nhe had a heart of stone, and stones are dead and can neither smile nor\nweep.\n\nHis first walk was to Michel, who received him with his former\nkindness. 'Michel,' said he, 'I have now travelled and seen everything,\nbut all is dull stuff and I have only found _ennui_. The stone I carry\nabout with me in my breast, protects me against many things; I never\nget angry, am never sad, but neither do I ever feel joyful, and it\nseems as if I were only half alive. Can you not infuse a little more\nlife into my stone heart, or rather, give me back my former heart?\nDuring five-and-twenty years I had become quite accustomed to it, and\nthough it sometimes did a foolish thing, yet it was, after all, a merry\nand cheerful heart.'\n\nThe sylvan spirit laughed grimly and sarcastically at this, answering,\n'When once you are dead, Peter Munk, it shall not be withheld; then\nyou shall have back your soft, susceptible heart, and may then feel\nwhatever comes, whether joy or sorrow. But here, on this side of\nthe grave, it can never be yours again. Travelled you have indeed,\nPeter, but in the way you lived, your travelling could afford you no\nsatisfaction. Settle now somewhere in the world, build a house, marry,\nand employ your capital; you wanted nothing but occupation; being\nidle, you felt _ennui_, and now you lay all the blame on this innocent\nheart.' Peter saw that Michel was right with respect to idleness, and\ntherefore proposed to himself to become richer and richer. Michel gave\nhim another hundred thousand florins, and they parted good friends.\n\nThe report soon spread in the Schwarzwald that 'Coal Peter,' or\n'gambling Peter,' had returned, and was much richer than before. It\nwas here as it is always. When he was a beggar he was kicked out of\nthe inn, but now he had come back wealthy, all shook him by the hand\nwhen he entered on the Sunday afternoon, praised his horse, asked\nabout his journey, and when he began playing for hard dollars with\nfat Hezekiel, he stood as high in their estimation as ever before. He\nno longer followed the trade of glass manufacturer, but the timber\ntrade, though that only in appearance, his chief business being in\ncorn and money transactions. Half the people of the Schwarzwald became\nby degrees his debtors, and he lent money only at 10 per cent, or\nsold corn to the poor, who, not being able to pay ready money, had to\npurchase it at three times its value. With the bailiff he now stood\non a footing of the closest friendship, and if any one failed paying\nMr. Peter Munk on the very day the money was due, the bailiff with his\nbeadles came, valued house and property, sold all instantly, and drove\nfather, mother, and child out into the forest. This became at first\nrather troublesome to Peter, for the poor outcasts besieged his doors\nin troops, the men imploring indulgence, the women trying to move his\nstony heart, and the children moaning for a piece of bread. But getting\na couple of large mastiffs, he soon put an end to this cat's music, as\nhe used to call it, for he whistled and set them on the beggars, who\ndispersed screaming. But the most troublesome person to him was 'the\nold woman,' who, however, was no other than Frau Munk, Peter's mother.\nShe had been reduced to great poverty and distress, when her house and\nall was sold, and her son, on returning wealthy, had troubled himself\nno more about her. So she came sometimes before his house, supporting\nherself on a stick, as she was aged, weak, and infirm; but she no\nmore ventured to go in, as he had on one occasion driven her out; and\nshe was much grieved at being obliged to prolong her existence by the\nbounties of other people, while her own son might have prepared for\nher a comfortable old age. But his cold heart never was moved by the\nsight of the pale face and well-known features, by her imploring looks,\noutstretched withered hands, and decaying frame. If on a Saturday she\nknocked at the door, he put his hand grumbling into his pocket for a\nsix-batzen piece, wrapped it in a bit of paper, and sent it out by a\nservant. He heard her tremulous voice when she thanked him, and wished\nhim a blessing in this world, he heard her crawl away coughing from\nthe door, but he thought of nothing except that he had again spent six\nbatzen for nothing.\n\nAt length Peter took it into his head to marry. He knew that every\nfather in the Schwarzwald would gladly give him his daughter, but he\nwas fastidious in his choice, for he wished that everybody should\npraise his good fortune and understanding in matrimony as well as\nin other matters. He therefore rode about the whole forest, looking\nout in every direction, but none of the pretty Schwarzw\u00e4lder girls\nseemed beautiful enough for him. Having finally looked out in vain\nfor the most beautiful at all the dancing-rooms, he was one day told\nthe most beautiful and most virtuous girl in the whole forest was the\ndaughter of a poor wood-cutter. He heard she lived quiet and retired,\nwas industrious and managed her father's household well, and that\nshe was never seen at a dancing-room, not even at Whitsuntide or the\nKirchweihfest.[2] When Peter heard of this wonder of the Schwarzwald,\nhe determined to court her, and, having inquired where the hut was,\nrode there. The father of the beautiful Elizabeth received the great\ngentleman with astonishment, but was still more amazed when he heard\nit was the rich Herr Peter who wished to become his son-in-law.\nThinking all his cares and poverty would now be at an end, he did not\nhesitate long in giving his consent, without even asking the beautiful\nElizabeth, and the good child was so dutiful that she became Frau Peter\nMunk without opposition.\n\n      [Footnote 2: A great festival in German villages, which comes\n      in October or November.]\n\nBut the poor girl did not find the happiness she had dreamt of. She\nbelieved she understood the management of a house well, but she could\nnever give satisfaction to Herr Peter; she had compassion on poor\npeople, and, as her husband was wealthy, thought it no sin to give a\npoor woman a penny, or a dram to a poor aged man. This being one day\nfound out by Peter, he said to her, with angry look and gruff voice,\n'Why do you waste my property upon ragamuffins and vagabonds? Have you\nbrought anything of your own to the house that you can give away?\nWith your father's beggar's staff you could not warm a soup, and you\nlavish my money like a princess. Once more let me find you out, and\nyou shall feel my hand.' The beautiful Elizabeth wept in her chamber\nover the hard heart of her husband, and often wished herself at home\nin her father's poor hut rather than with the rich, but avaricious and\nsinful Peter. Alas! had she known that he had a heart of marble and\ncould neither love her nor anybody else, she would not, perhaps, have\nwondered. But as often as a beggar now passed while she was sitting\nbefore the door, and drawing his hat off, asked for alms, she shut her\neyes that she might not behold his distress, and closed her hand tight\nthat she might not put it involuntarily in her pocket and take out a\nkreutzer. This caused a report and obtained an ill name for Elizabeth\nin the whole forest, and she was said to be even more miserly than\nPeter Munk. But one day Frau Elizabeth was again sitting before the\ndoor spinning and humming an air, for she was cheerful because it was\nfine weather, and Peter was taking a ride in the country, when a little\nold man came along the road, carrying a large heavy bag, and she heard\nhim panting at a great distance. Sympathisingly she looked at him and\nthought how cruel it was to place such a heavy burden upon an aged man.\n\nIn the meanwhile the little man came near, tottering and panting, and\nsank under the weight of his bag almost down on the ground just as he\ncame opposite Frau Elizabeth.\n\n'Oh, have compassion on me, good woman, and give me a drink of water,'\nsaid the little man; 'I can go no farther, and must perish from\nexhaustion.'\n\n'But you ought not to carry such heavy loads at your age,' said she.\n\n'No more I should if I were not obliged to work as carrier from poverty\nand to prolong my life,' replied he. 'Ah, such rich ladies as you know\nnot how painful poverty is, and how strengthening a fresh draught would\nbe in this hot weather.'\n\nOn hearing this she immediately ran into the house, took a pitcher from\nthe shelf and filled it with water; but she had only gone a few paces\nback to take it to him, when, seeing the little man sit on his bag\nmiserable and wretched, she felt pity for him, and recollecting that\nher husband was from home, she put down the pitcher, took a cup, filled\nit with wine, put a loaf of rye bread on it, and gave it to the poor\nold man. 'There,' she said, 'a draught of wine will do you more good\nthan water, as you are very old; but do not drink so hastily, and eat\nsome bread with it.'\n\nThe little man looked at her in astonishment till the big tears came\ninto his eyes; he drank and said, 'I have grown old, but have seen few\npeople who were so compassionate and knew how to spend their gifts so\nhandsomely and cordially as you do, Frau Elizabeth. But you will be\nblessed for it on earth; such a heart will not remain unrequited.'\n\n'No, and she shall have her reward on the spot,' cried a terrible\nvoice, and looking round they found it was Herr Peter, with a face as\nred as scarlet. 'Even my choicest wine you waste upon beggars, and give\nmy own cup to the lips of vagabonds? There, take your reward.' His wife\nfell prostrate before him and begged his forgiveness, but the heart of\nstone knew no pity, and flourishing the whip he held in his hand, he\nstruck her with the ebony handle on her beautiful forehead with such\nvehemence that she sank lifeless into the arms of the old man. When\nhe saw what he had done it was almost as if he repented of the deed\nimmediately; he stooped to see whether there was yet life in her, but\nthe little man said in a well-known voice, 'Spare your trouble, Peter;\nshe was the most beautiful and lovely flower in the Schwarzwald, but\nyou have crushed it and never again will see it bloom.'\n\nNow the blood fled from Peter's cheek and he said, 'It is you, then,\nMr. Schatzhauser? well, what is done is done then, and I suppose this\nwas to happen. But I trust you will not inform against me.'\n\n'Wretch,' replied the Little Glass Man, 'what would it profit me if I\nbrought your mortal part to the gallows? It is not earthly tribunals\nyou have to fear, but another and more severe one; for you have sold\nyour soul to the evil one.'\n\n'And if I have sold my heart,' cried Peter, 'it is no one's fault but\nyours and your deceitful treasures'; your malicious spirit brought me\nto ruin; you forced me to seek help from another, and upon you lies the\nwhole responsibility.' He had scarcely uttered these words when the\nlittle man grew enormously tall and broad, his eyes it is said became\nas large as soup plates, and his mouth like a heated furnace vomiting\nflames. Peter fell upon his knees, and his stone heart did not protect\nhis limbs from trembling like an aspen leaf. The sylvan spirit seized\nhim, as if with vultures' claws, by the nape of the neck, whirled him\nround as the storm whirls the dry leaves, and dashed him to the ground\nso that his ribs cracked within him. 'You worm of dust,' he cried, in\na voice roaring like thunder, 'I could crush you if I wished, for you\nhave trespassed against the lord of the forest; but for the sake of\nthis dead woman that fed and refreshed me, I give you a week's respite.\nIf you do not repent I shall return and crush your bones, and you will\ngo hence in your sins.'\n\nIt was already evening when some men passing by saw the wealthy Peter\nMunk lying on the ground. They turned him over and over to see whether\nthere was still life in him, but for a long time looked in vain.\nAt length one of them went into the house, fetched some water and\nsprinkled some on his face. Peter fetched a deep sigh and opened his\neyes, looked for a long time around, and asked for his wife Elizabeth,\nbut no one had seen her. He thanked the men for their assistance,\ncrawled into his house, searched everywhere, but in vain, and found\nwhat he imagined to be a dream a sad reality. As he was now quite alone\nstrange thoughts came into his mind; he did not indeed fear anything,\nfor his heart was quite cold; but when he thought of the death of his\nwife his own forcibly came to his mind, and he reflected how laden\nhe should go hence--heavily laden with the tears of the poor; with\nthousands of the curses of those who could not soften his heart; with\nthe lamentations of the wretched on whom he had set his dogs; with the\nsilent despair of his mother; with the blood of the beautiful and good\nElizabeth; and yet he could not even so much as give an account of her\nto her poor old father, should he come and ask, 'Where is my daughter,\nyour wife?' How then could he give an account to Him--to Him to whom\nbelong all woods, all lakes, all mountains, and the life of men?\n\nThis tormented him in his dreams at night, and he was awoke every\nmoment by a sweet voice crying to him, 'Peter, get a warmer heart!'\nAnd when he was awoke he quickly closed his eyes again, for the\nvoice uttering this warning to him could be none other but that of\nhis Elizabeth. The following day he went into the inn to divert his\nthoughts, and there met his friend, fat Hezekiel. He sat down by him\nand they commenced talking on various topics, of the fine weather,\nof war, of taxes, and lastly, also of death, and how such and such a\nperson had died suddenly. Now Peter asked him what he thought about\ndeath, and how it would be after death. Hezekiel replied, 'That the\nbody was buried, but that the soul went either up to heaven or down to\nhell.'\n\n'Then the heart also is buried?' asked Peter, anxiously.\n\n'To be sure that also is buried.'\n\n'But supposing one has no longer a heart?' continued Peter.\n\nHezekiel gave him a terrible look at these words. 'What do you mean by\nthat? Do you wish to rally me? Think you I have no heart?'\n\n'Oh, heart enough, as firm as stone,' replied Peter.\n\nHezekiel looked in astonishment at him, glancing round at the same time\nto see whether they were overheard, and then said, 'Whence do you know\nthat? Or does your own perhaps no longer beat within your breast?'\n\n'It beats no longer, at least, not in my breast,' replied Peter Munk.\n'But tell me, as you know what I mean, how will it be with our hearts?'\n\n'Why does that concern you, my good fellow?' answered Hezekiel,\nlaughing. 'Why, you have plenty here upon earth, and that is\nsufficient. Indeed, the comfort of our cold hearts is that no fear at\nsuch thoughts befalls us.'\n\n'Very true, but still one cannot help thinking of it, and though I know\nno fear now, still I well remember how I was terrified at hell when yet\nan innocent little boy.'\n\n'Well, it will not exactly go well with us,' said Hezekiel; 'I once\nasked a schoolmaster about it, who told me that the hearts are weighed\nafter death to ascertain the weight of their sins. The light ones rise,\nthe heavy sink, and methinks our stone hearts will weigh heavy enough.'\n\n'Alas, true,' replied Peter; 'I often feel uncomfortable that my heart\nis so devoid of sympathy, and so indifferent when I think of such\nthings.' So ended their conversation.\n\nBut the following night Peter again heard the well-known voice\nwhispering into his ear five or six times, 'Peter, get a warmer heart!'\nHe felt no repentance at having killed his wife, but when he told the\nservants that she had gone on a journey, he always thought within\nhimself, where is she gone to? Six days had thus passed away, and he\nstill heard the voice at night, and still thought of the sylvan spirit\nand his terrible menace; but on the seventh morning he jumped up from\nhis couch and cried, 'Well, then, I will see whether I can get a warmer\nheart, for the cold stone in my breast makes my life only tedious and\ndesolate.' He quickly put on his best dress, mounted his horse, and\nrode towards the Tannenb\u00fchl.\n\nHaving arrived at that part where the trees stand thickest, he\ndismounted, and went with a quick pace towards the summit of the hill,\nand as he stood before the thick pine he repeated the following verse:\n\n   'Keeper of wealth in the forest of pine,\n    Hundreds of years are surely thine:\n    Thine is the tall pine's dwelling-place--\n    Those born on Sunday see thy face.'\n\nThe Little Glass Man appeared, not looking friendly and kindly as\nformerly, but gloomy and sad; he wore a little coat of black glass, and\na long glass crape hung floating from his hat, and Peter well knew for\nwhom he mourned.\n\n'What do you want with me, Peter Munk?' asked he with a stern voice.\n\n'I have one more wish, Mr. Schatzhauser,' replied Peter, with his eyes\ncast down.\n\n'Can hearts of stone still wish?' said the former. 'You have all your\ncorrupt mind can need, and I could scarcely fulfil your wish.'\n\n'But you have promised to grant me three wishes, and one I have still\nleft.'\n\n'I can refuse it if it is foolish,' continued the spirit; 'but come,\nlet me hear what you wish.'\n\n'Well, take the dead stone out of me, and give me a living heart,' said\nPeter.\n\n'Have I made the bargain about the heart with you?' asked the Little\nGlass Man. 'Am I the Dutch Michel, who gives wealth and cold hearts? It\nis of him you must seek to regain your heart.'\n\n'Alas! he will never give it back,' said Peter.\n\n'Bad as you are, yet I feel pity for you,' continued the little man,\nafter some consideration; 'and as your wish is not foolish, I cannot\nat least refuse my help. Hear then. You can never recover your heart\nby force, only by stratagem, but probably you will find it without\ndifficulty; for Michel will ever be stupid Michel, although he fancies\nhimself very shrewd. Go straightway to him, and do as I tell you.' He\nnow instructed Peter fully, and gave him a small cross of pure glass,\nsaying, 'He cannot touch your life and will let you go when you hold\nthis before him and repeat a prayer. When you have obtained your wish\nreturn to me.'\n\nPeter took the cross, impressed all the words on his memory, and\nstarted on his way to the Dutchman Michel's residence; there he called\nhis name three times and immediately the giant stood before him.\n\n'You have slain your wife?' he asked, with a grim laugh. 'I should\nhave done the same; she wasted your property on beggars; but you will\nbe obliged to leave the country for some time; and I suppose you want\nmoney and have come to get it?'\n\n'You have hit it,' replied Peter; 'and pray let it be a large sum, for\nit is a long way to America.'\n\nMichel leading the way, they went into his cottage; there he opened a\nchest containing much money and took out whole rolls of gold. While he\nwas counting it on the table Peter said, 'You're a wag, Michel. You\nhave told me a fib, saying that I had a stone in my breast, and that\nyou had my heart.'\n\n'And is it not so then?' asked Michel, astonished. 'Do you feel your\nheart? Is it not cold as ice? Have you any fear or sorrow? Do you\nrepent of anything?'\n\n'You have only made my heart to cease beating, but I still have it in\nmy breast, and so has Hezekiel, who told me you had deceived us both.\nYou are not the man who, unperceived and without danger, could tear the\nheart from the breast; it would require witchcraft on your part.'\n\n'But I assure you,' cried Michel angrily, 'you and Hezekiel and all the\nrich people, who have sold themselves to me, have hearts as cold as\nyours, and their real hearts I have here in my chamber.'\n\n'Ah! how glibly you can tell lies,' said Peter, laughing; 'you must\ntell that to another to be believed; think you I have not seen such\ntricks by dozens in my journeys? Your hearts in the chamber are made of\nwax; you're a rich fellow I grant, but you are no magician.'\n\nNow the giant was enraged and burst open the chamber door, saying,\n'Come in and read all the labels, and look yonder is Peter Munk's\nheart; do you see how it writhes? Can that too be of wax?'\n\n'For all that, it is of wax,' replied Peter. 'A genuine heart does\nnot writhe like that. I have mine still in my breast. No! you are no\nmagician.'\n\n'But I will prove it to you,' cried the former angrily. 'You shall feel\nthat it is your heart.' He took it, opened Peter's waistcoat, took\nthe stone from his breast, and held it up. Then taking the heart,\nhe breathed on it, and set it carefully in its proper place, and\nimmediately Peter felt how it beat, and could rejoice again. 'How do\nyou feel now?' asked Michel, smiling.\n\n'True enough, you were right,' replied Peter, taking carefully the\nlittle cross from his pocket. 'I should never have believed such things\ncould be done.'\n\n'You see I know something of witchcraft, do I not? But, come, I will\nnow replace the stone again.'\n\n'Gently, Herr Michel,' cried Peter, stepping backwards, and holding up\nthe cross, 'mice are caught with bacon, and this time you have been\ndeceived,' and immediately he began to repeat the prayers that came\ninto his mind.\n\nNow Michel became less and less, fell to the ground, and writhed like a\nworm, groaning and moaning, and all the hearts round began to beat, and\nbecame convulsed, so that it sounded like a clock-maker's workshop.\n\nPeter was terrified, his mind was quite disturbed; he ran from the\nhouse, and, urged by the anguish of the moment, climbed up a steep\nrock, for he heard Michel get up, stamping and raving, and denouncing\ncurses on him. When he reached the top, he ran towards the Tannenb\u00fchl;\na dreadful thunderstorm came on; lightning flashed around him,\nsplitting the trees, but he reached the precincts of the Little Glass\nMan in safety.\n\nHis heart beat joyfully--only because it _did_ beat; but now he looked\nback with horror on his past life, as he did on the thunderstorm\nthat was destroying the beautiful forest on his right and left. He\nthought of his wife, a beautiful, good woman, whom he had murdered\nfrom avarice; he appeared to himself an outcast from mankind, and wept\nbitterly as he reached the hill of the Little Glass Man.\n\nThe Schatzhauser was sitting under a pine-tree, and was smoking a small\npipe; but he looked more serene than before.\n\n'Why do you weep, Peter?' asked he; 'have you not recovered your heart?\nIs the cold one still in your breast?'\n\n'Alas! sir,' sighed Peter, 'when I still carried about with me the cold\nstony heart, I never wept, my eyes were as dry as the ground in July;\nbut now my old heart will almost break with what I have done. I have\ndriven my debtors to misery, set the dogs on the sick and poor, and you\nyourself know how my whip fell upon _her_ beautiful forehead.'\n\n'Peter, you were a great sinner,' said the little man. 'Money and\nidleness corrupted you, until your heart turned to stone, and no\nlonger knew joy, sorrow, repentance, or compassion. But repentance\nreconciles; and if I only knew that you were truly sorry for your past\nlife, it might yet be in my power to do something for you.'\n\n'I wish nothing more,' replied Peter, dropping his head sorrowfully.\n'It is all over with me, I can no more rejoice in my lifetime; what\nshall I do thus alone in the world? My mother will never pardon me for\nwhat I have done to her, and I have perhaps brought her to the grave,\nmonster that I am! Elizabeth, my wife, too,--rather strike me dead,\nHerr Schatzhauser, then my wretched life will end at once.'\n\n'Well,' replied the little man, 'if you wish nothing else, you can have\nit, so my axe is at hand.' He quietly took his pipe from his mouth,\nknocked the ashes out, and put it into his pocket. Then rising slowly,\nhe went behind the pines. But Peter sat down weeping in the grass; his\nlife had no longer any value for him, and he patiently awaited the\ndeadly blow. After a short time he heard gentle steps behind him, and\nthought, 'Now he is coming.'\n\n'Look up once more, Peter Munk,' cried the little man. He wiped the\ntears from his eyes and looked up, and beheld his mother, and Elizabeth\nhis wife, who kindly gazed on him. Then he jumped up joyfully, saying,\n'You are not dead, then, Elizabeth, nor you, mother; and have you\nforgiven me?'\n\n'They will forgive you,' said the Little Glass Man, 'because you feel\ntrue repentance, and all shall be forgotten. Go home now, to your\nfather's hut, and be a charcoal-burner as before; if you are active\nand honest, you will do credit to your trade, and your neighbours will\nlove and esteem you more than if you possessed ten tons of gold.' Thus\nsaying, the Little Glass Man left them. The three praised and blessed\nhim, and went home.\n\nThe splendid house of wealthy Peter stood no longer; it was struck by\nlightning, and burnt to the ground, with all its treasures. But they\nwere not far from his father's hut, and thither they went, without\ncaring much for their great loss. But what was their surprise when they\nreached the hut; it was changed into a handsome farmhouse, and all in\nit was simple, but good and cleanly.\n\n'This is the Little Glass Man's doing,' cried Peter.\n\n'How beautiful!' said Frau Elizabeth; 'and here I feel more at home\nthan in the larger house, with many servants.'\n\nHenceforth Peter Munk became an industrious and honest man. He was\ncontent with what he had, carried on his trade cheerfully, and thus it\nwas that he became wealthy by his own energy, and respected and beloved\nin the whole forest. He no longer quarrelled with his wife, he honoured\nhis mother, and relieved the poor who came to his door. When, after\ntwelve months, Frau Elizabeth presented him with a beautiful little\nboy, Peter went to the Tannenb\u00fchl, and repeated the verse as before.\nBut the Little Glass Man did not show himself.\n\n'Mr. Schatzhauser,' he cried loudly, 'only listen to me. I wish nothing\nbut to ask you to stand godfather to my little son.' But he received\nno answer, and only a short gust of wind rushed through the pines, and\ncast a few cones on the grass.\n\n'Then I will take these as a remembrance, as you will not show\nyourself,' cried Peter, and he put them in his pocket, and returned\nhome. But when he took off his jacket, and his mother turned out the\npockets before putting it away, four large rolls of money fell out; and\nwhen they opened them, they found them all good and new Baden dollars,\nand not one counterfeit, and these were the intended godfather's gift\nfor little Peter, from the little man in the Tannenb\u00fchl. Thus they\nlived on, quietly and cheerfully; and many a time Peter Munk, when\ngray-headed, would say, 'It is indeed better to be content with little,\nthan to have wealth and a cold heart.'\n\n  C. A. F.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nTHE STORY OF THE CALIPH STORK\n\n  This story is from the collection called _The Caravan_, and is told\n  by the traveller Selim.\n\n\nThe Caliph Chasid of Bagdad was sitting one fine summer afternoon\ncomfortably on his divan; he had slept a little, for it was a sultry\nday, and he looked quite refreshed after his nap. He smoked a long\nrosewood pipe, sipped now and then a little coffee which a slave poured\nout for him, and stroked his beard contentedly whenever he had enjoyed\nit. In short, it could be seen at a glance that the Caliph felt very\ncomfortable. At such a time it was easy to approach him, as he was\nvery good-tempered and affable, wherefore his Grand Vizier Mansor\nvisited him every day about this time. This afternoon he came as usual,\nlooking, however, very grave, a rare thing for him. The Caliph took the\npipe out of his mouth and said: 'Why dost thou make so grave a face,\nGrand Vizier?' The Grand Vizier folded his arms across his breast,\nbowed to his master and answered: 'Master! whether I assume a grave\nappearance I know not, but down below in the palace stands a pedlar who\nhas such fine wares that it vexes me that I have no money to spare.'\n\nThe Caliph, who had long desired to rejoice the heart of his Grand\nVizier, ordered his black slave to fetch the pedlar. In a few moments\nthe slave returned with him. He was a stout little man, swarthy in\nthe face, and dressed in rags. He carried a box in which he had all\nsorts of wares, pearls, and rings, pistols with richly inlaid stocks,\ngoblets, and combs. The Caliph and his Vizier inspected everything, and\nthe Caliph at last bought for himself and Vizier a pair of pistols, and\nfor the Vizier's wife a comb. As the pedlar was about to close his box\nagain, the Caliph caught sight of a little drawer, and asked whether\nit also contained some wares. The pedlar pulled out the drawer, and\nexhibited a snuff-box containing a black powder and a piece of paper\nwith peculiar writing on it, which neither the Caliph nor Mansor could\nread. 'These things were given to me one day by a merchant who found\nthem in the streets of Mecca,' said the pedlar. 'I know not what they\nare; but you may have them for a small sum, for they are of no use\nto me.' The Caliph, who was very fond of having old manuscripts in\nhis library, though unable to read them, bought both paper and box\nand dismissed the pedlar. Still he thought he would like to know what\nthe writing meant, and asked the Vizier if he did not know anybody\nwho might decipher it. 'Most gracious lord and master,' answered the\nlatter, 'near the Great Mosque lives a man called Selim the learned;\nhe knows all languages. Send for him; perhaps he can explain these\nmysterious signs.'\n\nThe learned Selim soon arrived. 'Selim,' said the Caliph to him,\n'Selim, it is said thou art very learned. Just look at this writing\nwhether thou canst read it; if thou canst read it, thou gettest a new\nrobe of honour from me; if thou canst not, thou gettest twelve boxes on\nthe ears and twenty-five lashes on the soles of thy feet, for having\nbeen called Selim the learned without cause.' Selim bowed and said:\n'Thy will be done, O Master!' For a long time he looked at the writing;\nsuddenly, however, he exclaimed: 'That is Latin, O Master, or let me be\nhung!' 'Say what it means,' demanded the Caliph, 'if it is Latin.'\n\nSelim began to translate: 'Man who findeth this, praise Allah for\nhis goodness. He who takes a pinch of this powder in this box and\ntherewith says \"Mutabor,\" can change himself into any animal, and also\nunderstand the language of animals. If he afterwards wish to resume his\nhuman form, let him bow thrice to the East and say the same word. But\nbeware when thou art changed that thou laughest not, or the magic word\nwill depart from thy memory for ever, and thou remainest a beast.'\n\nWhen Selim the learned had read this, the Caliph was pleased beyond\nmeasure. He made the learned man swear not to reveal the secret to\nany one, presented him with a splendid robe, and dismissed him. Then\nturning to his Grand Vizier he said: 'This I call making a bargain,\nMansor! How glad I am at being able to become an animal! Come to me\nto-morrow morning. We will then go together into the fields, take a\npinch out of the box, and then listen to what is said in the air and\nthe water, in wood and field.'\n\nNext morning, scarcely had the Caliph Chasid breakfasted and dressed\nhimself, when the Grand Vizier appeared as ordered, to accompany him on\nhis walk. The Caliph put the box with the magic powder in his girdle,\nand having ordered his suite to remain behind, he and the Grand Vizier\nset out alone on the journey. They first passed through the large\ngardens of the Caliph, but looked in vain for any living thing on which\nto try the experiment. The Vizier at last proposed to pursue their\njourney to a pond, where he had often seen many animals, especially\nstorks, whose grave manners and clappings had always excited his\nattention.\n\nThe Caliph approved of the Vizier's proposal, and went with him towards\nthe pond. Having arrived there, they saw a stork soberly pacing up\nand down looking for frogs, and chattering something now and then to\nitself. At the same moment they saw far up in the sky another stork\nhovering in this direction.\n\n'I wager my beard, most gracious Master,' said the Grand Vizier, 'this\nlong-legged pair are now having a pleasant talk. How would it be if we\nturned into storks?'\n\n'Wisely spoken,' replied the Caliph. 'But first, let us consider how we\nmay become men again. It is easy enough! If we bow thrice to the East,\nand say Mutabor, I shall be Caliph and thou Vizier. But for heaven's\nsake no laughing, or we are lost.'\n\nWhile the Caliph spoke thus, he saw the other stork hovering over their\nheads, and slowly alighting on the ground. Quickly he snatched the box\nfrom his girdle, took a hearty pinch, gave the box to the Grand Vizier,\nwho did the like, and both exclaimed 'Mutabor!'\n\nThen their legs shrivelled and became thin and red, the beautiful\nyellow slippers of the Caliph and those of his Vizier changed into ugly\nstorks' feet, their arms grew into wings, their necks shot up from\ntheir shoulders and reached a yard in length, their beards vanished,\nand soft feathers covered their bodies.\n\n'You have a pretty beak, Mr. Grand Vizier,' said the Caliph after a\nsurprised silence. 'By the beard of the Prophet, I have never seen such\nthings in my life!' 'Thanks humbly,' replied the Vizier, bowing; 'but\nif I might dare say so, I should avow that your Highness looks almost\nhandsomer as a stork than a Caliph. But come, if it pleases you, let us\nlisten to our comrades yonder and hear if we really speak storkish.'\n\nMeanwhile the other stork had reached the ground. It cleaned its feet\nwith its beak, settled its feathers, and walked up to the first stork.\nThe two new storks hastened to get near them, and to their surprise\nheard the following conversation: 'Good morning, Madam Longlegs! You\nare early on the meadows.' 'Thank you, dear Clapper-beak! I have been\nto get a little breakfast. Would you like to have a quarter of a lizard\nor a little leg of a frog?' 'Much obliged; but I have no appetite this\nmorning. Besides, I have come upon quite a different errand on the\nmeadow. I am to dance before my father's guests to-day, and I want to\npractise a little quietly.'\n\nThereupon the young stork began to caper about the field in peculiar\nmovements. The Caliph and Mansor watched her, very much surprised. But\nwhen she stood on one leg in a picturesque attitude, and fluttered\nher wings to increase the effect, neither of them could resist;\nlaughter without stopping burst from their beaks, from which they only\nrecovered a long time afterwards. The Caliph was the first to recover\nself-possession: 'That was a joke,' he exclaimed, 'which cannot be\nbought for gold. What a pity the stupid animals should have been scared\nby our laughter, else they would also have sung, to be sure!'\n\nBut now it occurred to the Grand Vizier that laughing during the\nenchantment was forbidden. He therefore communicated his fears to the\nCaliph. 'By Mecca and Medina, that would be a bad joke if I were to\nremain a stork! Do bethink thee of the stupid word; I cannot recall it.'\n\n'Three times we must bow to the East and say: Mu--Mu--Mu.'\n\nThey turned towards the East and kept on bowing continually till their\nbeaks nearly touched the ground. But, alas! the magic word had escaped\nthem, and often as the Caliph bowed, and eagerly as his Vizier added\nMu--Mu--, yet every recollection of it had gone, and the poor Chasid\nand his Vizier were storks, and remained so.\n\nSadly the enchanted ones wandered through the fields, not knowing what\nto do in their misery. They could not discard their stork-plumage,\nnor could they return into the town and make themselves known, for\nwho would have believed that a stork was the Caliph? and even if one\nhad believed it, would the inhabitants of Bagdad accept a stork for a\nCaliph?\n\nThus they wandered about for several days, living miserably on the\nfruits of the field, which they could not swallow very well on account\nof their long beaks. As for lizards and frogs, their stomachs could not\nrelish such food; besides, they were afraid of spoiling their appetite\nwith such tit-bits. Their only pleasure in their sad situation was that\nthey could fly, and thus they flew often to the high roofs of Bagdad to\nsee what was going on in the town.\n\nDuring the first days they remarked great uneasiness and grief in the\nstreets. But on the fourth day of their enchantment, while sitting\non the roof of the Caliph's palace, they saw down in the street\nbelow a splendid array. The drums and fifes played; a man dressed in\na gold-embroidered scarlet mantle rode a richly-caparisoned horse,\nsurrounded by a gaudy train of servants. Half Bagdad rushed about him,\nand everybody shouted: 'Hail, Mizra! the ruler of Bagdad!'\n\nThen the two storks upon the roof of the palace looked at each other,\nand the Caliph Chasid said: 'Dost thou guess now why I am enchanted,\nGrand Vizier? This Mizra is the son of my mortal enemy, the mighty\nMagician Kaschnur, who in an evil hour swore revenge on me. But still\nI do not despair. Come with me, thou faithful companion of my misery;\nwe will betake ourselves to the grave of the Prophet; perhaps at that\nsacred shrine the magic may be dispelled.'\n\nThey rose from the roof of the palace and flew towards Medina.\n\nThey did not succeed very well in flying, for as yet they had had very\nlittle practice. 'O Master!' sighed the Grand Vizier after a couple of\nhours' flight, 'with your leave I can hold out no longer, you fly too\nswiftly for me! Besides, it is dark already, and we should do well to\nseek shelter for the night.'\n\nChasid listened to the request of his servant; and seeing beneath them\nin the valley some ruins which promised a lodging, they flew towards\nit. The place where they had settled for the night seemed formerly\nto have been a castle. Splendid pillars rose from among the ruins;\nseveral chambers which were still tolerably preserved testified\nto the bygone splendour of the building. Chasid and his companion\nstrolled through the passages in search of some dry nook, when suddenly\nthe stork Mansor stopped. 'Lord and Master,' he whispered below his\nbreath, 'is it not foolish for a Grand Vizier, and still more so for\na stork to fear ghosts? Still, I feel very uneasy, for close by some\none sighed and groaned quite distinctly.' The Caliph now also stopped,\nand heard quite plainly a low sob, which seemed rather to come from a\nman than an animal. Full of anxiety, he wanted to go towards the spot\nwhence proceeded the sound of sorrow; but the Vizier seized him by the\nwing with his beak and begged him not to rush upon new and unknown\nperils. But all was of no avail. The Caliph, who bore a brave heart\nbeneath his stork plumage, tore himself away with the loss of some\nfeathers, and ran towards a gloomy passage. Soon he came to a door\nwhich was ajar, and behind which he heard distinct sighs and moans.\nHe pushed open the door with his beak, but stopped on the threshold\nin astonishment. In the ruined chamber, which was only dimly lighted\nby a little iron-barred window, he saw a great night-owl sitting on\nthe ground. Heavy tears rolled out of its large round eyes, and with\na hoarse voice it uttered its moans from its hooked beak. But when it\nsaw the Caliph and his Vizier, who had come up in the meantime, it\ngave a loud cry of joy. Elegantly it wiped the tears from its eye with\nits brown-flecked wings, and to the great amazement of both, it cried\nin good human Arabic: 'Welcome, ye storks; you are a good omen to me\nof my deliverance, for through storks I am to be lucky, as it was once\nforetold me.'\n\nWhen the Caliph had recovered from his astonishment, he bowed with\nhis long neck, set his thin legs in a graceful position, and said:\n'Night-owl! from thy words I believe that I see a fellow-sufferer.\nBut alas! thy hope of deliverance through us is in vain. Thou wilt\nrecognise our helplessness in hearing our tale.' The night-owl begged\nhim to relate it, and the Caliph commenced to relate what we already\nknow.\n\nWhen the Caliph had related his story to the owl she thanked him, and\nsaid: 'Now also listen to my tale, and learn how I am no less unlucky\nthan you are yourself. My father is the king of the Indies; I, his\nonly unhappy daughter, am called Lusa. That Magician Kaschnur, who has\nenchanted you, has also brought misfortune upon me. One day he came to\nmy father and asked me in marriage for his son Mizra. But my father,\nwho is a fiery man, had him thrown downstairs. The wretch knew how to\napproach me again under another shape, and one day, while I was taking\nsome refreshments in my garden, he administered to me, disguised as a\nslave, a draught, which changed me into this hideous shape. Fainting\nfrom fear, he brought me hither and shouted with a terrible voice into\nmy ear: \"Here shalt thou remain, detestable, abhorred even by beast,\nto thy end, or till one of free will, himself in this horrid form,\nasks thee to be his wife. And thus I revenge myself on thee and on thy\nhaughty father.\"\n\n'Since then many months have passed. Lonely and sadly I live as a\nrecluse within these ruins, shunned by the world, a scarecrow even to\nbeasts: beautiful nature is hidden from me, for I am blind by daylight,\nand only when the moon pours her wan light over these ruins does the\nobscuring veil drop from my eyes.'\n\nWhen the owl had finished she again wiped her eyes with her wings, for\nthe story of her woes had moved her to tears.\n\nThe Caliph, by the story of the Princess, was plunged into deep\nthought. 'If I am not mistaken,' said he, 'there is between our\nmisfortunes a secret connection; but where can I find the key to this\nriddle?' The owl answered him: 'O Master! such is also my belief; for\nonce in my infancy a wise woman foretold that a stork should bring\nme a great fortune, and I know one way by which perhaps we may free\nourselves.' The Caliph was very much surprised, and asked what way\nshe meant. 'The enchanter who has made us both unhappy,' said she,\n'comes once every month to these ruins. Not far from here is a hall\nwhere he holds orgies with numerous companions. Often have I spied\nthem there. They then relate to one another their vile deeds. Perhaps\nhe may pronounce the magic word which you have forgotten.' 'O dearest\nPrincess,' exclaimed the Caliph, 'say when comes he, and where is the\nhall?'\n\nThe owl was silent a moment, and then said: 'You must not take it ill,\nbut only on one condition can I fulfil your wish.' 'Speak out, speak\nout,' cried Chasid. 'Command all, everything of me.'\n\n'It is this, that I may also become free, which can only be if one of\nyou offer me his hand.'\n\nThe stork seemed somewhat taken aback at this proposition, and the\nCaliph beckoned to his servant to go out with him a little.\n\n'Grand Vizier,' said the Caliph outside, 'this is a sorry bargain, but\nyou might take her.' 'Indeed!' answered the Grand Vizier; 'that my wife\nwhen I come home may scratch out my eyes? Besides, I am an old man,\nwhile you are still young and single, and could better give your hand\nto a young and fair Princess.'\n\n'That is just it,' sighed the Caliph, whilst sadly drooping his wings.\n'Who then has told thee that she is young and fair? It is buying a pig\nin a poke.'\n\nThey consulted one with the other for a long time. At last when the\nCaliph saw that his Vizier would rather remain a stork than wed the\nowl, he resolved to fulfil the condition himself. The owl was immensely\npleased. She confessed to them that they could not have come at a more\nfavourable time, for the enchanters were very likely to assemble that\nnight.\n\nShe quitted the chamber with the storks to lead them to the hall.\nThey went a long way through a gloomy passage; at length, through a\nhalf-fallen wall, gleamed a bright light. Having arrived there, the\nowl advised them to remain perfectly quiet. They could, through the\ngap near which they stood, overlook a great hall. It was supported all\nround by pillars, and splendidly decked. Many brilliant coloured lamps\nreplaced the light of day. In the centre of the hall was a round table,\ncovered with many and choice meats. Round this table was a couch, on\nwhich sat eight men. In one of these men the stork recognised the\npedlar who had sold them the magic powder. His neighbour asked him to\nrelate his latest deeds. Amongst others he also related the story of\nthe Caliph and his Vizier.\n\n'What sort of word hast thou given them?' asked another enchanter. 'A\nvery difficult Latin one, namely, \"Mutabor.\"'\n\nWhen the storks heard this at their hole in the wall they were nearly\nbeside themselves with joy. They ran on their long legs so quickly\nto the threshold of the ruins that the owl could hardly follow them.\nThere the Caliph addressed the owl with emotion: 'Deliverer of my life\nand of the life of my friend, accept me in eternal gratitude for thy\nspouse for that which thou hast done for us.' He then turned to the\nEast. Thrice the storks bowed their long necks to the sun, which just\nthen was rising behind the mountains. 'Mutabor!' they exclaimed; and\nstraightway they were changed, and in the great joy of their new-sent\nlife master and servant fell into each other's arms laughing and\ncrying. But who can describe their astonishment on turning round? A\nlovely lady, grandly dressed, stood before them. Smiling, she gave her\nhand to the Caliph. 'Do you no longer recognise your night-owl?' she\nsaid. It was she. The Caliph was so charmed with her beauty and grace\nthat he exclaimed: 'My greatest fortune was that of having been a\nstork.'\n\nThe three now travelled together towards Bagdad. The Caliph found in\nhis clothes not only the box with the magic powder, but also his\npurse. He therefore bought in the nearest village what was needful for\ntheir journey, and so they soon came to the gates of Bagdad. There\nthe arrival of the Caliph caused much surprise. People had believed\nhim dead, and they therefore were highly pleased to have again their\nbeloved ruler.\n\nAll the more, however, burned their hatred towards the impostor Mizra.\nThey entered the palace, and took prisoner the old enchanter and his\nson. The Caliph sent the old man to the same chamber in the ruins that\nthe Princess had lived in when an owl, and had him hanged there. To the\nson, who knew nothing of his father's art, the Caliph gave the choice\nwhether he would die or take snuff. And when he chose the latter, the\nGrand Vizier handed him the box. A good strong pinch and the magic word\nof the Caliph changed him into a stork. The Caliph had him shut up in\nan iron cage and placed in his garden.\n\nLong and happy lived the Caliph Chasid with his wife the Princess. His\nmost pleasant hours were always those when the Grand Vizier visited him\nduring the afternoon, when they very frequently spoke of their stork\nadventures, and when the Caliph was very jovial he amused himself with\nimitating the Grand Vizier when he was a stork. He strutted up and\ndown the chamber with stiff legs, clapped, fluttered his arms as though\nthey were wings, and showed how vainly the latter had turned to the\nEast crying all the while Mu--Mu. This entertainment was at all times\na great pleasure to Madam Caliph and her children; but when the Caliph\nkept on clapping a little too long, and nodded, and cried Mu--Mu,\nthen the Vizier threatened him, smiling, that he would communicate to\nMadam Caliph what had been discussed outside the door of the Night Owl\nPrincess.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nTHE STORY OF LITTLE MUCK\n\n  This story is from the same collection, and is told by Muley, a\n  merry young merchant.\n\n\nThere lived at Nicea, my dear native town, a man named Little Muck.\nI can still remember him very well, although I was very young then,\nespecially as I once received from my father a sound thrashing for his\nsake. Little Muck was already an old man when I knew him, and only\nthree or four feet high. He presented a most extraordinary appearance,\nand although his body was stunted and thin, yet he had a head which was\nmuch larger and thicker than that of other people. He lived quite alone\nin a large house, and acted as his own cook; people, moreover, in the\ntown would never have known whether he was alive or dead, for he only\nwent out once a month, were it not that at mid-day a powerful steam\narose from his house; but he was often seen during the evening walking\nup and down his roof, and people in the street thought that his immense\nhead only promenaded on the roof. My playmates and myself were wicked\nyoungsters, always ready enough to mock people and laugh at them, and\nwhenever Little Muck came out it was a holiday for us. On the day he\nwent out we met before his house, waiting for his appearance. When the\ndoor opened, and his immense head, together with a much larger turban,\npeeped out, followed by his little body, dressed in a shabby little\ncloak, wide trousers, and a broad girdle, to which was attached a long\ndagger of such an immense size that people did not know whether Muck\nwas fastened to the dagger or the dagger to him--when he came out, the\nair resounded with our loud cries of joy; we threw up our caps into the\nair and danced like maniacs round about him. Little Muck, nevertheless,\nbowed to us with a grave and dignified air, and marched down the street\nwith slow steps, dragging his feet as he walked, for he wore such large\nand broad slippers as I had never seen before.\n\nWe boys ran after him always shouting: 'Little Muck! Little Muck!' We\nhad also made a little rhyme about him which we sang in honour of him\nnow and then, namely:\n\n   'Little Muck, Little Muck,\n    What an awful fright you look!\n    In a big house you reside,\n    Only once a month outside.\n    You are a plucky dwarf, but still\n    Your head is almost like a hill;\n    Do but just turn round and look,\n    Run and catch us, Little Muck!'\n\nWe had often played this joke, and I must confess to my shame mine was\nthe worst. I often pulled him by his cloak, and once I planted my foot\non the end of his great slippers from behind, so that he fell down.\nThis at first caused me great delight, but I soon ceased to laugh when\nI saw Little Muck go towards my father's house. He really entered it,\nand remained in it for some time. I secreted myself behind the door\nand saw Little Muck come out again, accompanied by my father, who held\nhim respectfully by the hand, and took leave of him at the door, after\nmany bows. I felt very uneasy, and remained for a long time in my\nhiding-place; but at length hunger, which I dreaded still more than the\nthrashing, forced me to come out, and, shame-faced and with bent head,\nI presented myself before my father. 'I hear you have insulted the good\nMuck?' he said in a very stern voice. 'I want to tell you the history\nof this Muck, and I am certain you will never mock him again; in any\ncase, however, before or after, you will get your punishment.' This\npunishment meant twenty-five strokes, which he counted with only\ntoo great an exactness. He took his long pipe, screwed off the amber\nmouth-piece, and acquitted himself more vigorously of the task than he\nhad ever done before.\n\n  [Illustration: _From a wash drawing by James Pryde\n\n  _\"I hear you have insulted the good Muck\" he said in a very stern\n  voice_ (page 102)]\n\nAfter having received the five-and-twenty strokes, my father ordered me\nto pay attention, and related to me the story of Little Muck.\n\nThe father of Little Muck, whose real name was Mukrah, was a\ndistinguished but poor man here in Nicea. He, too, lived in almost as\nsolitary a manner as his son does at present. Unfortunately, he did\nnot like him, because his dwarfed stature made him ashamed of the boy,\nand consequently he had him brought up in ignorance. Little Muck, when\nin his sixteenth year, was still a frolicsome child; and his father, a\nstern man, continually reproached him with still being so childish, and\nalso on account of his ignorance and stupidity.\n\nThe old man, however, had a bad fall one day, in consequence of which\nhe died, leaving behind little Muck, poor and ignorant. His harsh\nrelatives, to whom the deceased owed more than he was able to pay,\nturned the poor little fellow out of the house, and advised him to\ngo abroad to seek his fortune. Little Muck said that he was already\nprepared for the journey; and only asked to be allowed to take his\nfather's clothes with him, to which they agreed. His father had been a\ntall, powerful man, and therefore his clothes did not fit him. Muck,\nhowever, soon devised an expedient; he cut off all that was superfluous\nwith respect to length, and then donned the garments. He seemed,\nhowever, to have forgotten the curtailing of them in their amplitude,\nhence his whimsical attire, which he wears to this day; the large\nturban, the broad girdle, the wide trousers, the little blue cloak,\nall these are heirlooms of his father, which he has always worn; his\nfather's long Damascus dagger he planted in his girdle, and with a\nlittle staff in his hand, he set out on his journey.\n\nJoyfully he walked along all day, for he had set out to seek his\nfortune. If he saw a bit of broken glass on the road glittering in the\nsunshine, he would put it into his pocket, really believing it would\nturn into the most beautiful diamond. If he saw in the distance the\nglittering cupolas of a mosque, or the sea smooth as glass, he would\nhasten towards it joyously, thinking he had arrived in some enchanted\ncountry. But alas! These phantoms disappeared as he approached them,\nand only too soon did his fatigue and the complaints of his hungry\nstomach remind him that he was still in the land of mortals.\n\nThus he had travelled for two days, hungry, weary, and in despair,\nendeavouring to seek his fortune; the fruits of the field were his only\nfood, the hard earth his couch. On the morning of the third day he\nperceived from the top of a hill a large town. The Crescent glittered\nupon the cupolas, coloured banners floated upon the roofs, seeming\nto beckon Little Muck to come to them. He stood still a moment quite\nsurprised, looking upon the town and its environs. 'Yes, that is the\nplace where Little Muck will make his fortune,' he said to himself; and\nnotwithstanding his weariness he stepped forward, 'there or nowhere.'\nHe summoned up all his strength and strode towards the city. But\nalthough it appeared so close, he did not reach it till mid-day, for\nhis little legs almost entirely refused their office, so that he was\nobliged to sit down frequently under the shade of a palm-tree to take\nrest. At length he reached his destination. He arranged his little\ncloak, improved the position of his turban, broadened his girdle still\nmore, and planted his long dagger in a still more oblique position;\nhe then wiped the dust from his shoes, armed himself with his little\nstaff, and bravely entered the city.\n\nHe had already strolled through many streets, but nowhere a door opened\nto him, nowhere people called out to him as he had imagined: 'Little\nMuck, come in, eat and drink, and rest your tiny legs.'\n\nHe was again looking up very longingly before a large and beautiful\nhouse, when a window opened, an old woman looked out of it, and\nexclaimed in a singing voice:\n\n   'Come on, come on,\n    The broth is done;\n    Laid is the cloth,\n    Enjoy the broth;\n    Neighbours come,\n    The broth is done.'\n\nThe door of the house opened, and Muck saw many dogs and cats go into\nthe house. He remained for some moments in a state of uncertainty, as\nto whether he should respond to the invitation; at length, however,\nhe summoned up sufficient courage and entered the house. Before him\ntrotted a pair of young cats. He determined to follow them, because\nthey might know the way to the kitchen better than he.\n\nWhen Muck had reached the top of the stairs, he met the old woman who\nhad looked out of the window. She looked at him sulkily, and demanded\nof him what he wanted. 'I have heard you inviting everybody to your\nfeast,' answered little Muck, 'and as I am terribly hungry I have come\nas well.' The old woman laughed and said: 'Where do you come from, you\nstrange creature? The whole town knows that I cook for nobody except\nmy dear cats, and now and again I invite company from the neighbourhood\nfor them, as you see.' Little Muck related to the old woman how badly\nhe had fared after his father's death, and entreated her to allow him\nto feast this day with her cats. The woman, who seemed pleased at the\nunaffected story of the little man, allowed him to be her guest, and\ngave him plenty to eat and drink. After having regaled himself, the\nwoman looked at him for a long time and then said: 'Little Muck, remain\nin my service, you will have little to do and plenty to eat.' Little\nMuck, who seemed to have enjoyed the cats' broth, agreed, and thus\nbecame Madam Ahavzi's servant. His work was light but strange. Lady\nAhavzi owned two cats and four kittens. Little Muck had to brush their\nfur and anoint them with precious ointment every morning; if their\nmistress was absent, he had to take care of them; at their meals he had\nto wait upon them, and at night put them upon silk cushions and wrap\nthem up in velvet coverlets.\n\nThere were besides some little dogs in the house which he also had\nto wait upon, but not so much attention was bestowed upon these as\nupon the cats, who were treated like Lady Ahavzi's own children.\nAltogether, Muck now lived almost as solitarily as when he was in his\nlate father's house; for, with the exception of his mistress, he only\nsaw, during the whole day, cats and dogs. For a short time little Muck\nfared very well, he had always plenty to eat and little to do, and the\nold woman seemed to be quite satisfied with him; but by degrees the\ncats became troublesome; whenever the old lady was out they bounded\nabout the room like mad, setting everything pell-mell, and breaking\nmany valuable vases which stood in their way. But when they heard\ntheir mistress coming up the stairs they crept up to their cushions,\nwagging their little tails to welcome her as if nothing had occurred.\nLady Ahavzi then became angry on seeing her rooms in such a disordered\nstate, blaming Muck for it; and however much he might protest his\ninnocence, she had more confidence in her cats, which looked so\ninnocent, than in her own servant.\n\nLittle Muck was very sad that he had not found his fortune here, and\nresolved to quit the service of Madam Ahavzi. But as he had discovered\nduring his former travels how difficult it was to live without money,\nhe determined to obtain his wages, which his mistress had always\npromised, but never given him, by some means or other. In the house of\nMadam Ahavzi was a chamber which was always locked, and the interior\nof which he had never seen. He had, however, often heard the woman\nmaking a noise in it, and for the life of him he would have liked\nto know what she kept hidden there. While thinking of his money for\ntravelling, it occurred to him that it was probably there that Madam\nAhavzi kept her treasures. The door, however, was always firmly locked,\nand he was unable therefore to get near them.\n\nOne morning, after Madam Ahavzi had gone out, one of the little dogs\nwhich had always been treated by her very badly, whose favour, however,\nhe had gained in a high degree by showing it many acts of kindness,\npulled him by his full trousers, and made signs to him as if to induce\nMuck to follow him. Muck, who had always been fond of playing with the\nlittle dog, followed it, and behold, the little dog conducted him into\nthe bedroom of Madam Ahavzi, and to a little door which he had never\nseen there before. The door was ajar. The little dog went in, Muck\nfollowing it, and he was agreeably surprised to find himself in the\nroom which had been so long the aim of his wishes. He spied in every\ncorner to see if he could find any money, but all in vain. Only old\nclothes and strangely-shaped vases were lying about. One of these vases\nespecially attracted his attention. It was of crystal, and beautiful\nfigures were cut on it. He took it up and turned it about on all\nsides. But, oh terror! He had not noticed that it had a cover which\nwas only lightly placed upon it. The cover dropped, and broke into a\nthousand pieces.\n\nFor a long time Little Muck stood there petrified with fear. His\nfate was now decided, and nothing remained for him but to run away,\notherwise the old woman would kill him. He immediately determined\nupon going, but once more he looked round to see if he could make use\nof some of Lady Ahavzi's property. His eyes fell on a mighty pair\nof slippers. They were not very pretty, but his own could not stand\nanother journey. They also attracted his attention on account of their\nimmense size, for if his feet were once in them, all must plainly see\nthat he had discarded children's boots. He quickly took off his little\nslippers, and put on the big ones. A pretty little staff with a lion's\nhead carved on its top seemed also to be standing idle in the corner,\nso taking possession of it, he hastened out of the room. He then went\nquickly to his room, donned his little cloak, put on his paternal\nturban, planted the dagger in his girdle, and ran as fast as his legs\ncould carry him, out of the house and the gates of the town.\n\nOutside the town he kept on running, being afraid of the old woman,\nuntil at last he was overcome by fatigue. Never in all his life had he\ngone so fast, nay, it seemed to him as if he could go on continually,\nfor some invisible power seemed to urge him on. He perceived at last\nthat his slippers were under the influence of some charm, for they kept\non stepping forward, and dragging him along. He tried by all sorts of\nmeans to stand still, but all in vain. At last, being in the greatest\ndanger, he called out just as if he were guiding horses: 'Ho! ho!\nhalt ho!' The slippers immediately pulled up, and Muck threw himself\nexhausted on the ground.\n\nHe was immensely pleased with the slippers. After all, he had acquired\nsomething by his work, which might assist him on his way in the world,\nto make his fortune. In spite of his joy he fell asleep from fatigue,\nfor the little body of Mr. Muck, which had to carry such an enormous\nhead, was not very strong. In a dream the little dog which had assisted\nhim in obtaining the slippers in Madam Ahavzi's house appeared to him\nand said: 'Dear Muck, you do not seem properly to understand the use of\nthe slippers: Learn, if you turn in them three times on your heel, you\ncan fly wherever you like, and with the little cane you can discover\ntreasures: for wherever there is gold buried it will strike the ground\nthree times, and where silver lies twice.'\n\nThus dreamt Little Muck. When he was awake he meditated upon the\nstrange dream, and soon resolved to make a trial. He put on the\nslippers, lifted one foot in the air and turned himself about on the\nother. Whoever has tried the feat of turning round thrice successively\nin a slipper too large for him will not be astonished at hearing that\nLittle Muck did not succeed very well in his first attempt, especially\nif one takes into consideration that his enormous head sometimes\ndragged him to the right and sometimes to the left.\n\nThe poor little fellow fell several times heavily on his nose;\nnevertheless he did not allow himself to be discouraged from repeating\nthe experiment, and finally he succeeded. Like a wheel he turned round\non his heel, wishing himself to be transported to the nearest large\ntown, whereupon his slippers lifted him up into the air, fled through\nthe clouds as if they had wings, and before he could recover his senses\nhe found himself in a large market-place, where many booths were\npitched, and where a number of people were busily running to and fro.\nHe went about amongst the people, but found it advisable to go into a\nmore quiet street, for in the market-place people put their feet upon\nhis slippers, which nearly made him fall down; and further, his long\ndagger every now and then pushed against some one or other, so that he\njust escaped being beaten.\n\nLittle Muck now began seriously to think what he could do to earn some\nmoney. Though he had a little staff indicating to him hidden treasures,\nyet where could he discover a place, on the spur of the moment, where\ngold or silver was buried? He might have exhibited himself in case of\nnecessity, but he was too proud for that. At length the quick movements\nof his limbs occurred to him. 'Perhaps,' he thought, 'my slippers may\nsupport me,' and he resolved to offer his services as courier, thinking\nit possible that the King of this town might remunerate him handsomely\nfor such services, and he inquired after the palace. Near the gate of\nthe palace stood a sentry, who asked him what he wanted. He said that\nhe was looking for work, and was shown to the overseer of the slaves.\nHe told the latter his request, and petitioned him to find him a place\namongst the royal messengers. The overseer looked at him from head to\nfoot, and said: 'What! you, with your little limbs, which are scarcely\na span in length, wish to become a royal messenger! Get away, I have no\ntime for joking with a fool.'\n\nLittle Muck, however, assured him that he was quite in earnest with\nhis offer, and that he would venture a wager to outstrip the swiftest\nrunner. The affair seemed very ridiculous to the overseer. He ordered\nhim to be prepared for a race in the evening, took him into the\nkitchen, and took care that he was supplied with plenty to eat and\ndrink. The overseer himself went to the King, and told him about this\nlittle man and his offer. The King, who was a pleasant master, approved\nof the overseer for having kept Little Muck for a joke. He ordered him\nto make preparations on a large meadow behind the palace in order that\nthe race might be conveniently seen by his whole royal household, and\nfinally told him to look well after the dwarf.\n\nThe King related to the Princes and Princesses what sort of an\nentertainment they would have in the evening. The latter told their\nservants of it, and as the evening approached, all were in eager\nexpectation; they hastened towards the meadow, where scaffolds were\nerected, in order to see the boasting dwarf run.\n\nAfter the King, his sons and his daughters had taken their seats,\nLittle Muck appeared upon the meadow, saluting the assemblage with\nan extremely courteous bow. General shouts of joy resounded on the\nlittle man appearing; such a figure had never been seen there before.\nThe little man's body with its immense head, his little cloak and\nlarge trousers, the long dagger in the broad girdle, his little feet\nin his slippers: No! this was too funny a sight for people not to\nlaugh. Little Muck, however, did not allow himself to be abashed by\nthe laughter. He proudly took his place, leaning on his little cane,\nand awaited his adversary. The overseer of the slaves had, at Muck's\nrequest, selected the quickest runner. The latter now came forward,\nplacing himself by the side of the little man, and both waited for\nthe signal. Then the Princess Amarza, as had been arranged, nodded\nfrom under her veil, and like two arrows shot at the same target, the\nrunners rushed forward over the meadow.\n\nAt first Muck's adversary had a decided advantage, but the former\non his slipper-conveyance chased him, overtook him, passed him, and\nreached the goal long before the other came along gasping for breath.\nThe spectators were for some moments stupefied with admiration and\nastonishment, but when first the King applauded, then the whole\nmultitude followed his example, and all shouted:\n\n'Long live Little Muck, the winner of the race!'\n\nIn the meantime Little Muck had been fetched. He prostrated himself\nbefore the King, and said: 'All powerful King, this is merely a trifle\nof my art; and now condescend to assign me a place amongst your\ncouriers.' The King replied: 'No, you shall be my private runner, and\nalways about me. You shall have for your salary a hundred gold pieces\nannually, and you shall dine with my chief courtiers.'\n\nMuck now at last thought he had found his fortune, which he had sought\nafter for so long a time, and rejoiced inwardly. He also rejoiced at\nthe special favour of the King, for the latter employed him for the\nquickest and most secret despatches, which Little Muck executed with\nthe greatest exactitude, and with incomprehensible rapidity.\n\nThe other servants, however, were jealous of him, because they thought\nthemselves lessened in the favour of their master, through a dwarf, who\nunderstood nothing else but running. Many conspiracies, therefore, were\nplotted against him in order to ruin him; but all failed, on account of\nthe great confidence which the King placed in his chief private runner,\nfor he had risen to this dignity in a short time.\n\nMuck, who was not blind to these intrigues, did not think of avenging\nhimself; he was too noble-hearted for that. No, he rather thought of\nsome means by which he might make himself indispensable, and liked\nby his enemies. He then recollected his little staff, which he had\nforgotten in his fortunate circumstances; if he discovered treasures,\nhe thought, then perhaps his companions might look upon him with a more\nfavourable eye.\n\nHe had often been told that the father of the present King had buried\na great part of his treasures at a time when the enemy invaded his\ncountry; it was also said that he had died since, without having been\nable to communicate his secret to his son. Henceforward Muck always\ntook his little cane with him, hoping that some day he might pass the\nplace where the money of the old King lay buried. One evening chance\nled him to a lonely spot in the King's garden, a place which he little\nfrequented, when suddenly he felt his little cane jerking in his hand,\nand striking the ground three times. He was already aware what this\nmeant. He therefore drew his dagger, notched the trees surrounding the\nplace, and returned to the castle: he now procured a spade, and waited\nuntil nightfall for his enterprise.\n\nHis searching for the treasures gave Little Muck more trouble than\nhe had expected. His arms were very weak, his spade too large and\nheavy, and he worked for more than two hours before he had dug two\nfeet in depth. At length he struck against something hard, which gave\na metallic sound. He now dug away more vigorously, and soon succeeded\nin bringing to light a large iron lid; he himself got into the hole\nin order to discover what the lid might cover, and he really found a\nlarge urn filled with gold pieces. His feeble powers, however, were\ninsufficient to lift the urn, and he therefore put into his trousers\nand girdle as much as he could carry; he stuffed his little cloak\nwith as much as he could, and put it on his back, having concealed\nthe rest very carefully. But, as a matter of fact, if he had not had\nhis slippers on, he would not have been able to proceed, so heavily\nthe gold weighed on him. Unobserved, he reached his room, and there\nconcealed his gold underneath the cushions of his couch.\n\nWhen Little Muck found himself the owner of so much gold he thought\nmatters would now undergo a change, and that he would gain amongst his\nenemies at court many patrons and warm friends. Judging from this, it\nwas but too obvious that Little Muck could not have received a very\ncareful education, otherwise he would not have imagined that it was\npossible to gain real friends with gold. Alas! he had much better have\ngreased his slippers then, and made his escape with his little cloak\nfilled with gold as quickly as he could.\n\nThe gold which Little Muck now freely distributed excited the jealousy\nof the other courtiers. The chief cook Ahuli said: 'He is a coiner.'\nAchmet, the overseer of the slaves, said: 'He has obtained it from\nthe King by talking.' Archaz, the treasurer, however, his bitterest\nenemy, who himself from time to time dipped into the King's cash-box,\nsaid openly: 'He has stolen it.' Now in order to make quite sure of\ntheir affair, they plotted together, and the chief cup-bearer Korchuz\npresented himself one day very sad and downcast before the King. He\ndissimulated in such a way that the King asked him what was the matter\nwith him. 'Alas!' he answered, 'I am sad for having lost the grace of\nmy master.' 'What are you raving about, friend Korchuz?' said the King.\n'How long has the sunshine of my favour ceased to fall on you?' The\nchief cup-bearer answered him that he had lavished so much gold on his\nprivate chief runner, and forgotten him, his poor and faithful servant,\naltogether.\n\nThe King was much astonished at this news, and caused little Muck's\ndistributions of gold to be related to him, and the conspirators easily\nmade him suspect that Muck by some means or other had stolen the money\nfrom the treasury. The treasurer was very pleased at this turn of\naffairs, and besides, was reluctant to give an account of the state of\nhis books. The King therefore ordered them to watch all the movements\nof Little Muck, in order to surprise him if possible in the act of\nstealing. When, therefore, during the night following this fatal day,\nLittle Muck took the spade in order to go into the King's garden to\nget a fresh supply from his secret treasure, because he had exhausted\nhis store through his liberality, he was followed by the sentries,\nheaded by the chief cook Ahuli and the treasurer Archaz; and just as\nhe was about to put the gold into his little cloak they attacked him,\nbound him, and brought him immediately before the King. The latter,\nwhose disturbed slumbers had not put him in a very good humour,\nreceived his poor chief private runner very ungraciously, and examined\nhim immediately. The pot had been dug completely out of the ground, and\nwith the spade, as well as the little cloak filled with gold, had been\nplaced before the King. The treasurer alleged that he had surprised\nMuck with his sentinels at the moment when he had buried this pot of\ngold in the ground.\n\nThe King questioned the accused as to whether it was true, and where he\nhad got the gold which he had buried. Little Muck assured him of his\ninnocence, and said that he had discovered this pot in the garden, and\nthat he was not going to bury it, but to dig it out.\n\nAll present laughed at this excuse; the King, however, greatly\nexasperated at the barefaced impudence of the little man, exclaimed:\n'You wretch! You dare to impose on your King in such a gross fashion,\nafter having robbed him? Treasurer Archaz, I call upon you to say\nwhether you recognise this sum of gold as the same which is missing\nfrom my treasury?' The treasurer said he was quite sure that so much\nand still more had been missing for some time from the royal treasury,\nand that he was prepared to affirm it with an oath that this was the\nstolen money.\n\nThereupon the King ordered Little Muck to be put in heavy chains and\ntaken to the tower; the gold he gave to the treasurer, in order to\nrestore it to the treasury. Delighted at the fortunate result of the\naffair, he left, and counted the glittering gold pieces at home; but\nthe bad man never announced that there had been at the bottom of the\npot a piece of paper on which was written: 'The enemy has inundated my\ncountry, therefore I bury here part of my treasures; whoever the finder\nmay be is cursed by the King if he does not immediately deliver it up\nto my son. King Sadi.'\n\nLittle Muck made sad reflections in his prison; he knew that death was\nthe punishment for stealing the King's property, yet he did not intend\nto reveal the secret of the little staff to the King, fearing he should\nbe deprived of it as well as of his slippers. His slippers could not\nassist him at all, for he was chained close to a wall, and could not,\nin spite of his endeavours, turn round on his heel. When, however, on\nthe next day he was informed that he had to die, he thought it best\nafter all to live without the magic wand rather than die with it, so\nhe requested the King for a private interview, and revealed to him the\nsecret. The King at first had not much faith in his confession; but\nLittle Muck promised a trial if the King assured him that he should not\nbe killed. The King gave him his word for it, and, unknown to Muck, had\nsome gold buried in the ground, and told him to find it with his little\nstaff. In a few moments he had discovered it, for the little staff\nstruck three times distinctly upon the ground. The King now recognised\nthat his treasurer had deceived him, and sent him, as is customary in\nthe East, a silk cord to hang himself with. But to Little Muck he said:\n'Although I have promised to spare your life, yet it seems to me you\npossess more than the secret of this little staff; therefore you shall\npass the rest of your days in captivity, unless you reveal the means by\nwhich you run so swiftly.'\n\nLittle Muck, for whom one night in the tower had been sufficient\nto make him hate captivity, confessed that all his art lay in his\nslippers; but he did not tell the King the secret of turning three\ntimes on the heel. The King himself slipped into the slippers in order\nto make a trial, and rushed about like a madman in his garden; he\noften wanted to stop, but he did not know how it was possible, and\nLittle Muck, who could not help avenging himself a little, allowed him\nto run until he fell down fainting.\n\nWhen the King had gained consciousness again, he was terribly angry\nwith Little Muck for having let him run about breathless. 'I have\npledged my word to set you at liberty, and to spare your life. Quit my\nkingdom within twelve hours, else I will have you hung.' The slippers\nand the little staff, however, were put into his treasury.\n\nAs poor as before, Little Muck left the country, cursing his folly\nwhich had deceived him in imagining that he might play a prominent\npart at Court. Fortunately, the country from which he was banished was\nnot extensive, and after eight hours he reached the frontier, although\nhe had some difficulty in walking, for he was accustomed to his dear\nslippers.\n\nAfter he had crossed the frontier he struck out of the main path to\nfind the most solitary spot of the forest, intending to live there only\nfor himself, for he hated all mankind. In a dense forest he chanced\nupon a little place, which seemed quite suitable to him according to\nthe plan which he had formed. A clear stream, surrounded by gigantic\nand shady fig-trees and a soft piece of turf, invited him to throw\nhimself down, and it was here that he intended to take no more\nnourishment, but to await death. Over these reflections of death he\nfell asleep; but on awaking, and when hunger tormented him, he came to\nthe conclusion that after all to die of hunger was a terrible thing,\nand looked around to see if he could find anything to eat.\n\nThere were some delicious ripe figs on the tree under which he had\nslept, so he climbed up the tree to gather some, enjoyed them heartily,\nand then came down to quench his thirst in the brook. But how great\nwas his terror when his reflection in the water showed him his head\nornamented with two immense ears and a thick long nose. In dismay he\nseized his ears with his hands; indeed they were more than half a yard\nlong.\n\n'I deserve donkey's ears!' he exclaimed, 'for I have, like an ass,\ntrampled upon my fortune.' He wandered amongst the trees, and on\nfeeling hungry again, he ate once more of the figs, for there was\nnothing else eatable on the trees. Whilst he was eating the second lot\nof figs it occurred to him that there might be room enough for his\nears under his great turban, so as not to appear too ridiculous; but\nhe felt that his ears had disappeared! He immediately returned to the\nbrook, in order to make sure of it. And indeed it was true; his ears\nhad assumed their former appearance, and also his long and unshapely\nnose had changed. He now perceived how all this had happened; it was\nowing to the figs from the first tree that he had got the long nose and\nears; the second had healed him. Gladly he recognised that his good\nfortune had once again given him the means of being happy. He therefore\ngathered from each tree as much as he could carry, and returned to the\ncountry which he had recently quitted. In the first little town he\nentered he disguised himself, and without stopping went towards the\ncity where the King resided, and soon arrived there.\n\nIt happened to be the season of the year when ripe fruits were scarce;\nLittle Muck therefore sat down near the gate of the palace, for he\nremembered that in former times the chief cook bought such rarities\nfor the royal table. Muck had only just sat down when he saw the chief\ncook coming across the court. He inspected the wares of the sellers\nwho had collected near the gate of the palace; at last his attention\nwas directed towards Muck's little basket. 'Ah! a rare bit,' he said,\n'which His Majesty will certainly enjoy. How much do you want for the\nwhole basketful?' Little Muck asked a moderate price, and they were\nsoon agreed over the bargain. The chief cook gave the basket to a slave\nand continued his way. Little Muck, however, ran away in the meantime,\nfor he feared that if the horrible developments were to appear on the\nheads of those at Court, he being the seller might be sought out and\npunished.\n\nThe King was in high spirits during dinner, and complimented the chief\ncook over and over again on account of his excellent cooking, and care\nin always selecting the best for him. The chief cook, however, who was\nwell aware what delicacy was yet to come, smiled significantly, and\nmerely said, 'The day is not over yet,' or 'All's well that ends well,'\nso that the Princesses became very curious what else was to come. When,\ntherefore, he had the splendid inviting figs served up, there was a\nuniversal cry of 'Ah!' from all present. 'How beautiful, how inviting!'\nexclaimed the King. 'Chief cook, you are a capital fellow, and worthy\nof our entire favour.' In speaking thus the King himself distributed\nthese delicacies, with which he was always very frugal, to every one\nat table. Each Prince and each Princess received two, the ladies in\nwaiting, the viziers, and the officers one each, the rest he placed\nbefore himself, and commenced to eat them with a good appetite.\n\n'But dear me, how peculiar you look, father!' exclaimed Princess Amarza\nall at once. All looked at the King in surprise: immense ears hung down\non his head, a long nose extended down his chin. All the guests looked\nat each other with astonishment and terror; all were more or less\nadorned with this peculiar head-dress.\n\nThe consternation of the Court may be easily imagined. They immediately\nsent for all the physicians in the town, who came in troops, prescribed\npills and mixtures, but the ears and noses remained. An operation was\nperformed on one of the Princes, but the ears budded out again.\n\nMuck had heard of the whole affair in his hiding-place, and thought\nnow was the time for him to act. He had already procured for himself\na dress with the money which he had obtained for the figs, and now\nappeared as a wise man. A long beard of goat's hair disguised him\ncompletely. He entered the palace of the King with a little bag filled\nwith figs, and offered his services as a foreign physician. At first\nthey were somewhat sceptical, but after Little Muck had given a fig to\none of the Princes to eat, and when the latter's ears and nose again\nassumed their original shape, then all desired to be cured by the\nforeign physician. The King, however, took him silently by the hand and\nled him into his apartment; he there unlocked a door which led into the\ntreasury, beckoning Muck to follow him. 'Here are my treasures,' said\nthe King; 'make your selection, and whatever it be, you shall have, if\nyou rid me of this frightful evil.' This was sweet music to the ears of\nLittle Muck; immediately on entering he had seen his slippers lying\non the floor, together with his little staff. He now went about the\nroom as if he were desirous of admiring the King's treasures. Scarcely,\nhowever, had he come to his slippers when he quietly slipped into them,\nseized his little staff, tore off his false beard, and displayed to the\namazed King the well-known features of the exiled Muck. 'Perfidious\nKing,' he said, 'who repay with ingratitude faithful services, take as\na well-deserved punishment the deformity which has overtaken you. You\nshall wear the long ears in order that they may remind you daily of\nLittle Muck.'\n\nAfter having said this he quickly turned round on his heel, wishing\nhimself far away, and before the King was able to call for assistance\nLittle Muck was out of sight. Ever since Little Muck lives here in\ngreat wealth, but secluded, for he hates men. Experience has taught him\nwisdom, and notwithstanding his strange exterior, he rather deserves\nyour admiration than your mockery.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThat is the story which my father told me. I repented of my unworthy\nconduct towards the good little man, and my father remitted the other\nhalf of the punishment which was yet in store for me. I related to my\ncomrades the marvellous adventures of the little man, and we became so\nfond of him that none of us ever mocked him again. On the contrary, we\nrespected him as long as he lived, and always bowed to him with as much\nrespect as we should have done before a Cadi or a Mufti.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nNOSE, THE DWARF\n\n  This story is from the collection called _The Sheik of Alexandria\n  and his Slaves_, and is told by a slave to the Sheik.\n\n\nSir, those people are much mistaken who fancy that there were no\nfairies and enchanters, except in the time of Haroun Al Raschid, Lord\nof Bagdad, or even pronounce those accounts untrue of the deeds of\ngenii and their princes, which one hears the story-tellers relate in\nthe market-places of the town. There are fairies nowadays, and it is\nbut a short time since I myself was witness of an occurrence in which\ngenii were evidently playing a part, as you will see from my narrative.\nIn a considerable town of my dear fatherland, Germany, there lived\nmany years ago a cobbler, with his wife, in a humble but honest way.\nIn the daytime he used to sit at the corner of a street mending shoes\nand slippers; he did not refuse making new ones if anybody would trust\nhim, but he was obliged to buy the leather first, as his poverty did\nnot enable him to keep a stock. His wife sold vegetables and fruit,\nwhich she cultivated in a small garden outside the town-gates, and\nmany people were glad to buy of her, because she was dressed cleanly\nand neatly, and knew how to arrange and lay out her things to the best\nadvantage.\n\nNow this worthy couple had a beautiful boy, of a sweet countenance,\nwell made, and rather tall for his age, which was eight years. He\nwas in the habit of sitting in the market with his mother, and often\ncarried home part of the fruit and vegetables for the women and cooks\nwho had made large purchases; he seldom, however, returned from one\nof these journeys without bringing either a beautiful flower, a piece\nof money, or a cake, which the mistresses of such cooks gave him as a\npresent, because they were always pleased to see the handsome boy come\nto the house.\n\nOne day the cobbler's wife was sitting as usual in the market-place,\nhaving before her some baskets with cabbages and other vegetables,\nvarious herbs and seeds, besides some early pears, apples, and\napricots, in a small basket. Little Jacob (this was the boy's name) sat\nby her, crying out in a loud voice: 'This way, gentlemen, see what\nbeautiful cabbages, what fragrant herbs; early pears, ladies, early\napples and apricots; who will buy? My mother sells cheap.'\n\nWhile the boy was thus calling out, an old woman came across the\nmarket; her dress was tattered and in rags, she had a small, sharp\nface, quite furrowed with age, red eyes, and a pointed, crooked nose,\nwhich reached down to her chin; in her walk she supported herself on a\nlong stick, and yet it was difficult to say exactly how she walked, for\nshe hobbled and shuffled along, and waddled as if she were on casters,\nand it was as if she must fall down every instant and break her pointed\nnose on the pavement.\n\nThe cobbler's wife looked attentively at this old woman. For sixteen\nyears she had been sitting daily in the market, yet she had never\nobserved this strange figure, and therefore involuntarily shuddered\nwhen she saw the old hag hobbling towards her and stopping before her\nbaskets.\n\n'Are you the greengrocer Hannah?' she asked in a disagreeable, croaking\nvoice, shaking her head to and fro.\n\n'Yes, I am,' replied the cobbler's wife; 'what is your pleasure?'\n\n'We'll see, we'll see, we'll look at your herbs--look at your herbs,\nto see whether you have what I want,' answered the old woman; and\nstooping down she thrust her dark brown, unsightly hands into the\nherb-basket, and took up some that were beautifully spread out, with\nher long spider-like fingers, bringing them one by one up to her long\nnose, and smelling them all over. The poor woman felt her heart quake\nwhen she saw the old hag handle her herbs in this manner, but she dared\nnot say anything to her, the purchasers having a right to examine the\nthings as they pleased; besides which, she felt a singular awe in the\npresence of this old woman. After having searched the whole basket, she\nmuttered, 'Wretched stuff, wretched herbs, nothing that I want--were\nmuch better fifty years ago--wretched stuff! wretched stuff!'\n\nLittle Jacob was vexed at these words. 'Hark ye,' he cried boldly, 'you\nare an impudent old woman; first you thrust your nasty brown fingers\ninto these beautiful herbs and squeeze them together, then you hold\nthem up to your long nose, so that no one seeing this will buy them\nafter you, and you abuse our goods, calling them wretched stuff, though\nthe duke's cook himself buys all his herbs of us.'\n\nThe old woman leered at the bold boy, laughed disagreeably, and said\nin a hoarse voice, 'Little son, little son, you like my nose then, my\nbeautiful long nose? You shall have one too in the middle of your face\nthat shall reach down to your chin.'\n\nWhile she spoke thus she shuffled up to another basket containing\ncabbages. She took the most beautiful white heads up in her hand,\nsqueezed them together till they squeaked, and then throwing them into\nthe basket again without regard to order, said as before, 'Wretched\nthings! wretched cabbages!'\n\n'Don't wriggle your head about in that ugly fashion,' cried the little\nboy, rather frightened; 'why your neck is as thin as a cabbage-stalk\nand might easily break, then your head would fall into the basket, and\nwho would buy of us?'\n\n'You don't like such thin necks then, eh?' muttered the old woman, with\na laugh. 'You shall have none at all; your head shall be fixed between\nyour shoulders, that it may not fall down from the little body.'\n\n'Don't talk such nonsense to the little boy,' at length said the\ncobbler's wife, indignant at the long-looking, examining, and smelling\nof the things; 'if you wish to buy anything be quick, for you scare\naway all my other customers.'\n\n'Well, be it as you say,' cried the old woman, with a furious look; 'I\nwill buy these six heads of cabbages; but you see I must support myself\non my stick, and cannot carry anything, therefore allow your little\nson to carry them home for me, and I will reward him.'\n\nThe little boy would not go with her, and began to cry, for he was\nterrified at the ugly old woman, but his mother commanded him to go, as\nshe thought it a sin to load the feeble old soul with the burden. Still\nsobbing, he did as he was ordered, and followed the old woman across\nthe market-place.\n\nShe proceeded slowly, and was almost three-quarters of an hour before\nshe arrived at a very remote part of the town, where she at length\nstopped in front of a small dilapidated house. She pulled out of her\npocket an old rusty hook, and thrust it dexterously into a small hole\nin the door, which immediately opened with a crash. But what was the\nastonishment of little Jacob as he entered! The interior of the house\nwas magnificently adorned, the ceiling and walls were of marble, the\nfurniture of the most beautiful ebony, inlaid with gold and polished\nstones, the floor was of glass, and so smooth that little Jacob several\ntimes slipped and fell down. The old woman took a small silver whistle\nfrom her pocket, and blew a note on it which sounded shrilly through\nthe house. Immediately some guinea-pigs came down the stairs, and\nlittle Jacob was much amazed at their walking upright on their hind\nlegs, wearing on their paws nut-shells instead of shoes, men's clothes\non their bodies, and even hats in the newest fashion on their heads.\n\n'Where are my slippers, ye rascally crew?' cried the old woman,\nstriking at them with her stick, so that they jumped squeaking into the\nair; 'how long am I to stand here waiting?'\n\nThey quickly scampered up the stairs and returned with a pair of\ncocoa-nut shells lined with leather, which they placed dexterously upon\nthe old woman's feet.\n\nNow all her limping and shuffling was at an end. She threw away her\nstick, and glided with great rapidity over the glass floor, drawing\nlittle Jacob after her. At length she stopped in a room which was\nadorned with a great variety of utensils, and which closely resembled\na kitchen, although the tables were of mahogany, and the sofas covered\nwith rich cloth, more fit for a drawing-room.\n\n'Sit down,' said the old woman kindly, pressing him into a corner of\na sofa, and placing a table before him in such a manner that he could\nnot get out again; 'sit down, you have had a heavy load to carry; human\nheads are not so light--not so light.'\n\n'But, woman,' replied the little boy, 'you talk very strangely; I am,\nindeed, tired, but they were cabbage heads I was carrying, and you\nbought them of my mother.'\n\n'Why, you know but little about that,' said the old woman laughing, as\nshe took the lid from the basket and brought out a human head, which\nshe held by the hair. The little boy was frightened out of his senses\nat this; he could not comprehend how it came about; and thinking of his\nmother, he said to himself, 'If any one were to hear of these human\nheads, my mother would certainly be prosecuted.'\n\n'I must give you some reward now, as you are so good,' muttered the\nold woman; 'have patience for a minute, and I will prepare for you a\nsoup which you will remember all your life.' Having said this, she\nwhistled again, and immediately there came first some guinea-pigs\ndressed like human beings; they had tied round them kitchen-aprons,\nfastened by a belt, in which were stuck ladles and carving-knives;\nafter them came skipping in a number of squirrels that wore large, wide\nTurkish trousers, walked upright, and had small caps of green velvet on\ntheir heads. These seemed to be the scullions, for they climbed very\nnimbly up the walls and brought down pans and dishes, eggs and butter,\nherbs and flour, and carried it to the hearth. The old woman slided\ncontinually to and fro upon her cocoa-nut slippers, and little Jacob\nobserved that she was bent on cooking something good for him. Now the\nfire crackled and blazed up higher, there was a smoking and bubbling\nin the saucepan, and a pleasant odour spread over the room, but the old\nwoman kept running up and down, the squirrels and guinea-pigs after\nher, and as often as she passed the hearth she poked her long nose\ninto the pot. At length it began to boil and hiss, the steam rose from\nthe pot, and the scum flowed down into the fire. She then took off the\nsaucepan, and pouring some into a silver basin, gave it to Jacob.\n\n'Now, my dear little son, now,' said she, 'eat this soup, and you will\nhave in your own person all that you admired so much in me. You shall\nmoreover become a clever cook, that you may be something at least, but\nas for the herb, that you shall never find, because your mother did not\nhave it in her basket.'\n\nThe little boy did not exactly understand what she was saying, but was\nthe more attentive in eating his soup, which he relished uncommonly.\nHis mother had cooked various savoury soups, but never any like this.\nThe flavour of the fine herbs and spice ascended from it, and it was\nat the same time very sweet, and very sharp and strong. While he was\nsipping the last drops of the delicious soup the guinea-pigs lighted\nsome Arabian incense, which floated through the room in blue clouds,\nwhich became thicker and thicker, and then descended. The smell of the\nincense had a stupefying effect upon the boy; in vain he repeatedly\nsaid to himself that he must return to his mother, for as often as he\nendeavoured to rouse himself, as often did he relapse into slumber,\nand, at length, actually fell into a profound sleep upon the old\nwoman's sofa.\n\nStrange dreams came over him while he thus slept. It seemed as if the\nold woman was taking off his clothes, and putting on him the skin of\na squirrel. Now he could make bounds and climb like a squirrel; he\nassociated with the other squirrels and guinea-pigs, who were all very\npolite, decent people, and he did duty in waiting upon the old woman\nin his turn like the rest. At first he had to perform the service of\na shoe-black, that is, he had to oil and polish the cocoa-nut shells\nwhich his mistress wore instead of slippers. Having often blacked and\npolished shoes at home, he performed his duty well and quickly. After\nthe lapse of about one year he dreamt again (according to the sequel\nof his dream) that he was employed for more delicate work, that is, in\ncompany with some other squirrels, he was set to catch the motes in a\nsunbeam, and, when they had caught enough, to sift them through the\nfinest hair-sieve, as the old woman considered them the nicest food,\nand not being able to masticate well for want of teeth, had her bread\nprepared of such motes.\n\nAt the end of another year he was raised to the rank of one of the\nservants who had to collect the water the old woman drank. But you\nmust not suppose that she had a cistern dug for that purpose, or a tub\nplaced in the yard to catch the rain-water; she had a much finer plan.\nThe squirrels, and Jacob with them, had to collect in their hazel-nut\nshells the dew from roses, and this was the beverage of the old woman.\nThe labour of these water-carriers was not a very light one, as she\nused to drink a great deal. After another year he was employed in\nin-door service, his duty being to clean the floors, and as they were\nof glass and showed the least speck, it was not a very easy task. He\nand his fellow-servants were obliged to brush the floors, and with\npieces of old cloth tied to their feet dexterously skated about the\nrooms. In the fourth year he received an appointment in the kitchen,\nwhich was so honourable an office that one could succeed to it only\nafter a long probation. Jacob here served from scullion upwards to the\npost of first pastrycook, and acquired such an extraordinary skill and\nexperience in everything relating to the culinary art that often he\ncould not help wondering at himself; the most difficult things, pies\ncomposed of two hundred different ingredients, soups prepared with all\nthe herbs of the globe,--all these, and many other things, he learned\nto make quickly and efficiently.\n\nSeven years had thus passed away in the service of the old woman when\none day, pulling off her shoes of cocoa-nut, and taking her basket and\ncrutch in hand in order to go out, she told him to pluck a chicken,\nstuff it with herbs, and roast it nice and brown, during her absence.\nHe did this according to the rules of his art; twisted the chicken's\nneck, scalded it in hot water, pulled out the feathers cleverly,\nscraped its skin smooth and fine, and then drew it. Next he began\ngathering the herbs with which he was to stuff the chicken. Now when he\ncame to the chamber where these herbs were kept he perceived a small\ncupboard in the wall that he had never before noticed, and finding the\ndoor of it half open, he had the curiosity to go near, in order to\nsee what it contained, when behold! there stood a great many little\nbaskets in it, from which proceeded a strong pleasant smell. He opened\none of these little baskets, and found in it a herb of a most singular\nform and colour; its stalks and leaves were of a bluish green, and it\nhad a flower of burning red fringed with yellow at the top. He looked\nthoughtfully at this flower, and smelled it, when it emitted the same\npowerful odour as the soup which the old woman had cooked for him\nwhen he first came there. But the smell was so strong that he began to\nsneeze, was obliged to keep sneezing, and at last awoke, sneezing still.\n\nHe now found himself upon the old woman's sofa, and looked around him\nwith astonishment. 'Heavens!' he said to himself, 'how vividly one\nmay dream; I would almost have sworn that I was a wanton squirrel,--a\ncompanion of guinea-pigs and other animals, but at the same time had\nbecome a great cook. How my mother will laugh when I tell her all\nthis! But will she not also scold me for falling asleep in a strange\nhouse instead of helping her in the market?' While engaged in these\nthoughts he started up to run away; but his limbs were still quite\nstiff with sleep, and particularly his neck, for he was unable to\nmove his head well to and fro. He could not help smiling at himself\nand his drowsiness, for every moment, before he was aware, he ran\nhis nose against a cupboard or the wall, or turning suddenly round,\nstruck it against a door-post. The squirrels and guinea-pigs crowded\nwhining around him, as if anxious to accompany him, and he actually\ninvited them to do so when he was on the threshold, for they were nice\nlittle creatures, but they glided quickly back into the house on their\nnutshells, and he only heard them howling at a distance.\n\nAs it was a very remote part of the town to which the old woman had\nbrought him, he could hardly find his way through the narrow streets,\nand as, moreover, there was a great crowd of people wherever he went,\nhe could only account for this by supposing there must be a dwarf\nsomewhere in the neighbourhood for show, for he heard everywhere cries\nof, 'Only look at the ugly dwarf! Where does the dwarf come from? O!\nwhat a long nose he has, and how his head sits between his shoulders,\nand look at his brown ugly hands!' At any other time he would probably\nhave followed the cry, for he was very fond of seeing giants and\ndwarfs, and any sort of curious, foreign costume, but now he was\nobliged to hurry and get to his mother.\n\nHe felt quite weary when he arrived at the market. He found his mother\nstill sitting there, and she had a tolerable quantity of fruit in the\nbasket; he could not therefore have been sleeping long, but still it\nappeared to him, even at a distance, as if she were very melancholy,\nfor she did not call to those coming past to buy, but supported her\nhead on one hand, and on coming closer he thought she looked paler than\nusual. He hesitated as to what he should do; and at length mustering\nup courage, crept gently behind her, and putting his hand familiarly\nupon her arm, asked, 'Dear mother, what's the matter with you? are you\nangry with me?'\n\nThe woman turned round, but started back with a shriek of terror,\nsaying, 'What do you want with me, you ugly dwarf? Begone, begone! I do\nnot like such jokes.'\n\n'But mother, what is the matter with you?' asked Jacob, quite\nterrified; 'surely you must be unwell; why will you turn your son away\nfrom you?'\n\n'I have told you already to be gone,' replied Hannah angrily; 'you will\nnot get any money from me by your juggleries, you ill-favoured monster.'\n\n'Surely God has deprived her of the light of her intellect,' said the\ndwarf, deeply grieved within himself; 'what shall I do to get her home?\nDear mother, pray do listen to reason; only look well at me, I am\nindeed your son--your own Jacob.'\n\n'Why this is carrying the joke too far,' she said to her neighbour;\n'only look at that ugly dwarf; there he stands, and will no doubt drive\naway all my customers; nay, he even dares to ridicule my misfortune,\ntelling me that he is my son, my own Jacob, the impudent fellow.'\n\nAt this her neighbours rose, and began abusing him (every one knows\nthat market women understand this), and reproaching him with making\nlight of poor Hannah's misfortune, who seven years ago had had her\nbeautiful boy kidnapped, and with one accord they threatened to fall\nupon him and tear him to pieces, unless he took himself off immediately.\n\nPoor Jacob did not know what to make of all this. Indeed it seemed to\nhim that he had that very morning, as usual, gone to market with his\nmother, had helped her to lay out her fruit, and had afterwards gone\nwith the old woman to her house, eaten some soup, slept a little while,\nand had now come back; and yet his mother and her neighbours talked of\nseven years, calling him at the same time an ugly dwarf. What then was\nthe change that had come over him? Seeing, at length, that his mother\nwould no longer listen to anything he said, he felt the tears come in\nhis eyes, and went sorrowfully down the street towards the stall where\nhis father sat in the daytime mending shoes.\n\n'I am curious to see,' he thought to himself, 'whether he, too, will\ndisown me? I will place myself in the doorway and talk to him.' And\nhaving come there he did so and looked in.\n\nThe cobbler was so busily engaged at work that he did not see him; but\nhappening to cast a look towards the door, he dropped shoe, twine, and\nawl on the ground, and cried with astonishment, 'For Heaven's sake,\nwhat is that?'\n\n'Good evening, master' said the little dwarf, stepping inside the\nbooth. 'How fare you?'\n\n'Badly, badly, my little gentleman,' replied Jacob's father, to his\nutter amazement; for he, too, did not seem to recognise him. 'I have to\ndo all the work myself, for I am alone and now getting old, and yet I\ncannot afford to keep a journeyman.'\n\n'But have you no son to assist you in your work?' inquired the dwarf\nfurther.\n\n'Indeed I had one, whose name was Jacob, and he now must be a handsome,\nquick lad, twenty years old, who might effectually assist me. Ah! what\na pleasant life I should lead. Even when he was twelve years old he\nshowed himself quite handy and clever, and understood a great deal\nof the business. He was a fine engaging little fellow; he would soon\nhave brought me plenty of custom, so that I should no longer have been\nmending shoes and boots but making new ones. But so goes the world.'\n\n'Where is your son, then?' asked Jacob in a tremulous voice.\n\n'That God only knows,' replied his father. 'Seven years ago, yes! it is\njust that now, he was stolen from us in the market-place.'\n\n'Seven years ago, you say?' cried Jacob with astonishment.\n\n'Yes, little gentleman, seven years ago; the circumstance is as fresh\nin my memory as if it had happened to-day, how my poor wife came home\nweeping and crying, saying that the child had not come back all day,\nand that she had inquired and searched everywhere without finding\nhim. But I always said it would come to that; for Jacob was a pretty\nchild, no one could help saying so, therefore my poor wife was proud\nof him and fond of hearing people praise him, and often sent him with\nvegetables and such like to the houses of the gentlefolks. All this was\nvery well; he always received some present. But said I, mark me, the\ntown is large, and there are many bad people in it, so take care of\nJacob. But it happened as I said. Once there comes an ugly old woman\nto the market, bargains for some fruits and vegetables, and at length\nbuys so much that she cannot carry it home herself. My wife, kind soul,\nsends the lad with her, and--has never seen him again since that hour.'\n\n'And that is now seven years ago?'\n\n'Seven years this spring. We had him cried in the town, we went from\nhouse to house inquiring; many had known and liked the pretty lad, and\nsearched with us, but all in vain. Neither did any one know the woman\nwho bought the vegetables; a very aged woman, however, ninety years\nold, said, 'it might possibly have been the wicked fairy, Kr\u00e4uterweis,\nwho once in fifty years comes to the town to buy various things?'\n\nThus spoke Jacob's father hastily, hammering at his shoes meanwhile,\nand drawing out at great length the twine with both hands. Now by\ndegrees light broke on the little dwarf, and he saw what had happened\nto him, viz., that he had not been dreaming, but had served as a\nsquirrel seven years with the evil fairy. Rage and sorrow filled his\nheart almost to bursting.\n\nThe old witch had robbed him of seven years of his youth, and what had\nhe in exchange? What was it that he could polish slippers of cocoa-nut\nshell? that he could clean rooms with glass floors? that he had learned\nall the mysteries of cooking from the guinea-pigs? Thus he stood for\nsome time meditating on his fate, when at length his father asked him--\n\n'Do you want to purchase anything, young gentleman? Perhaps a pair of\nnew slippers or, peradventure, a case for your nose?' he added, smiling.\n\n'What do you mean about my nose?' asked Jacob; 'why should I want a\ncase for it?'\n\n'Why,' replied the cobbler, 'every one according to his taste; but I\nmust tell you that if I had such a terrible nose I should have a case\nmade for it of rose-coloured morocco. Look here, I have a beautiful\npiece that is just the thing; indeed we should at least want a yard for\nit. It would then be well guarded, my little gentleman; whereas now\nI am sure you will knock it against every door-post and carriage you\nwould wish to avoid.'\n\nThe dwarf was struck dumb with terror; he felt his nose; it was full\ntwo hands long, and thick in proportion. So then the old hag had\nlikewise changed his person; and hence it was his mother did not know\nhim, and people called him an ill-favoured dwarf.\n\n'Master,' said he, half crying to the cobbler, 'have you no\nlooking-glass at hand in which I might behold myself?'\n\n'Young gentleman,' replied his father gravely, 'you have not exactly\nbeen favoured as to appearance so as to make you vain, and you have\nno cause to look often in the glass. You had better leave it off\naltogether. It is with you a particularly ridiculous habit.'\n\n'Oh! pray let me look in the glass,' cried the dwarf. 'I assure you it\nis not from vanity.'\n\n'Leave me in peace, I have none in my possession; my wife has a little\nlooking-glass, but I do not know where she has hid it. If you really\nmust look into one,--why then, over the way lives Urban, the barber,\nwho has a glass twice as big as your head; look in there, and now, good\nmorning.'\n\nWith these words his father pushed him gently out of the stall,\nlocked the door after him, and sat down again to his work. The little\ndwarf, much cast down, went over the way to the barber, whom he well\nremembered in former times.\n\n'Good morning, Urban,' said he to him, 'I come to beg a favour of you;\nbe so kind as to let me look a moment in your looking-glass.'\n\n'With pleasure,' cried the barber laughing; 'there it is,' and his\ncustomers who were about to be shaved laughed heartily with him. 'You\nare rather a pretty fellow, slim and genteel; you have a neck like a\nswan, hands like a queen, and a turn-up nose, such as one seldom sees\nexcelled. A little vain you are of it, no doubt; but no matter, look at\nyourself; people shall not say that envy prevented me from allowing you\nto see yourself in my glass.'\n\nThus spoke the barber, and a yell of laughter resounded through the\nroom. In the meantime the dwarf had stepped to the glass and looked at\nhimself. The tears came in his eyes while saying to himself: 'Yes, dear\nmother, thus you could not indeed recognise your Jacob; he did not look\nlike this in the days of your happiness, when you delighted to show him\noff before the people?' His eyes had become little, like those of a\npig; his nose was immense, hanging over his mouth down to his chin; his\nneck seemed to have been taken away altogether, for his head sat low\nbetween his shoulders, and it was only with the greatest pain that he\ncould move it to the right or left; his body was still the same size as\nit had been seven years ago, when he was twelve years old, so that he\nhad grown in width what others do in height between the ages of twelve\nand twenty. His back and chest stood out like two short, well-filled\nbags; and this thick-set body was supported by small thin legs, which\nseemed hardly sufficient to support their burden; but so much the\nlarger were his arms, which hung down from his body, being of the size\nof those of a full-grown man; his hands were coarse, and of a brownish\nhue, his fingers long, like spiders' legs, and when he stretched them\nto their full extent he could touch the ground without stooping. Such\nwas little Jacob's appearance, now that he had been turned into an ugly\ndwarf. He remembered the morning on which the old woman had stopped\nbefore his mother's baskets. All that he then had found fault with in\nher--viz., her long nose and ugly fingers--all these she had given him,\nonly omitting her long, palsied neck.\n\n'Well, my prince, have you looked enough at yourself now?' said the\nbarber, stepping up to him, and surveying him with a laugh. 'Truly,\nif we wished to dream of such a figure, we could hardly see one so\ncomical. Nevertheless I will make you a proposition, my little man. My\nshaving-room is tolerably well frequented, but yet not so much as I\ncould wish. That arises from my neighbour, the barber Schaum, having\ndiscovered a giant, who attracts much custom to his house. Now, to\nbecome a giant is no great thing, after all, but to be such a little\nman as you is indeed a different thing. Enter my service, little man;\nyou shall have board and lodging, clothes, and everything; for this you\nshall stand in my doorway in the morning, and invite people to come in;\nyou shall beat the lather, hand the towel to the customers, and you may\nbe sure that we shall both make it answer; I shall get more customers\nthrough you than my neighbour by his giant, and you will get many\npresents.'\n\nThe little man felt quite indignant at the proposal of serving as a\ndecoy to a barber. But was he not obliged to submit patiently to this\ninsulting offer? He therefore quietly told the barber he had no time\nfor such services, and went away.\n\nAlthough the evil hag had thus stunted his growth, yet she had had\nno power to affect his mind, as he felt full well; for he no longer\nthought and felt as he did seven years since, and believed that he had\nbecome wiser and more sensible in the interval. He did not mourn for\nthe loss of his beauty, nor for his ugly appearance, but only that he\nwas driven from his father's door like a dog. However, he resolved to\nmake another trial with his mother.\n\nHe went again to her in the market, and entreated her to listen to him\npatiently. He reminded her of the day on which he had gone with the\nold woman; he called to her mind all the particular incidents of his\nchildhood, told her then how he had served seven years as a squirrel\nwith the fairy, and how she had changed him because he had then\nridiculed her person.\n\nThe cobbler's wife did not know what to think of all this. All that\nhe related of his childhood agreed with her own recollections, but\nwhen he talked of serving seven years as a squirrel she said, 'It is\nimpossible; there are no fairies;' and when she looked at him she felt\na horror at the ugly dwarf, and would not believe that he could be her\nson. At length she thought it would be best to talk the matter over\nwith her husband; therefore she took up her baskets and bade him go\nwith her.\n\nOn arriving at the cobbler's stall she said: 'Look, this fellow\npretends to be our lost Jacob. He has told me all the circumstances;\nhow he was stolen from us seven years since, and how he was enchanted\nby a fairy.'\n\n'Indeed,' interrupted the cobbler in a rage, 'has he told you this?\nwait, you rogue!--I have told him all this an hour ago, and then he\ngoes to make a fool of you. Enchanted you have been, my little chap,\nhave you? Wait a bit, I will soon disenchant you!' So saying, he took a\nbundle of straps that he had just cut, jumped up towards the dwarf, and\nbeat him on his humped back and his long arms, making the little fellow\nscream with pain and run away crying.\n\nNow in that town, as in others, there were but few of those\ncompassionate souls who will support a poor unfortunate man who has a\nridiculous appearance. Hence it was that the unlucky dwarf remained\nall day without food, and was obliged in the evening to choose for his\nnight's quarters the steps of a church, though they were hard and cold.\n\nWhen on the following morning the first rays of the sun awoke him, he\nbegan seriously to think how he should earn his livelihood, now that\nhis father and mother had repudiated him; he was too proud to serve as\na signboard to a barber; he would not hire himself as a merry-andrew\nto be exhibited: what then should he do? It now occurred to him that\nas a squirrel he had made considerable progress in the culinary art,\nand thought he might justly expect to prove a match for any cook; he\ntherefore resolved to turn his art to advantage.\n\nAs soon, therefore, as the morning had dawned, and the streets became\nanimated, he entered a church and performed his devotions; then he\nproceeded on his way. The duke (the sovereign of the country) was a\nnotorious _gourmand_, who kept a good table, and sought cooks in all\nparts of the world. To his palace the dwarf went. When he arrived at\nthe outer gate the porter asked his errand, and began to crack his\njokes on him; when he asked for the chief cook they laughed and led\nhim through the inner courts, and wherever he went the servants stood\nstill, looked at him, laughed heartily, and followed him, so that in\na short time a great posse of menials of all descriptions crowded up\nthe steps of the palace. The grooms threw away their curry-combs, the\nrunning footmen ran with all their might, the carpet-spreaders ceased\nbeating their carpets, all crowded and thronged around him, as though\nthe enemy were at the gates, and the shouts of 'A dwarf, a dwarf! have\nyou seen the dwarf?' filled the air.\n\nAt this moment the steward of the palace, with a furious countenance\nand a large whip in his hand, made his appearance at the door, crying,\n'For Heaven's sake, ye hounds, what is all this uproar for? Do you not\nknow that our gracious master is still asleep?' At the same time he\nflourished his whip, laying it rather roughly about the backs of some\ngrooms and porters.\n\n'Why, sir,' they all cried, 'don't you see that we are bringing a\ndwarf, such a dwarf as you never saw?' The steward suppressed a loud\nlaugh with difficulty when he got sight of the little man, for he was\nafraid that laughter would take from his dignity. He drove them all\naway with his whip except the dwarf, whom he led into the house and\nasked what he wanted. Hearing that the little man wished to see the\nmaster of the kitchen, he replied, 'You make a mistake, my little son;\nI suppose you want to see me, the steward of the palace, do you not?\nYou wish to become dwarf to the duke, is it not so?'\n\n'No, sir,' replied the dwarf, 'I am a clever cook and skilled in the\npreparation of all sorts of choice meats; be so kind as to bring me to\nthe master of the kitchen; perhaps he may be in want of my skill.'\n\n'Every one according to his wish, my little man; but you are an\ninconsiderate youth. To the kitchen! why, as the duke's dwarf you would\nhave nothing to do and plenty to eat and drink to your heart's desire,\nand fine clothes into the bargain. But we shall see; your skill in\nthe culinary art will hardly be such as a cook to the duke is required\nto possess, and you are too good for a scullion.' As he said the last\nwords he took the dwarf by the hand and conducted him to the apartments\nof the master of the kitchen.\n\nOn arriving there the dwarf said, with so deep a bow that his nose\ntouched the floor, 'Gracious sir, are you in want of a skilful cook?'\n\nThe master of the kitchen, surveying him from top to toe, burst into\na loud fit of laughter, and said, 'What, you a cook? Do you think\nthat our hearths are so low that you could even look on one, though\nyou should stand on tiptoe, and stretch your head ever so much out of\nyour shoulders? My good little fellow, whoever sent you here to hire\nyourself out as cook has been making a fool of you.' Thus saying, the\nmaster-cook laughed heartily, and was joined by the steward of the\npalace and all the servants in the room.\n\nBut the dwarf was not to be discomposed by this. 'Of what consequence\nis it to waste a few eggs, a little syrup and wine, some flour and\nspice upon trial in a house where there is plenty? Give me some dainty\ndish to prepare,' said he, 'procure all that is necessary for it, and\nit shall be immediately prepared before your eyes, so that you shall\nbe constrained to avow that I am a first-rate cook.'\n\nWhile the dwarf was saying all this, and many other things, it was\nstrange to see how his little eyes sparkled, how his long nose moved to\nand fro, and his fingers, which were like spiders' legs, suited their\nmovements to his words.\n\n'Well!' exclaimed the master-cook, taking the steward by the arm,\n'Well! be it so for the sake of the joke, let us go to the kitchen.'\n\nThey walked through several large rooms and corridors till they came to\nthe kitchen. This was a large spacious building magnificently fitted\nup; on twenty hearths fires were constantly burning, clear water was\nflowing through the midst, serving also as a fish-pond; in cupboards of\nmarble and choice wood the stores were piled, which it was necessary to\nhave at hand for use, and on either side were ten rooms, in which were\nkept all the delicious dainties for the palate which can be obtained\nin all the countries of Europe and in the East. Servants of all\ndescriptions were running to and fro, handling and rattling kettles and\npans, with forks and ladles; but when the master-cook entered all stood\nmotionless, and the crackling of the fire and the rippling of the brook\nwere alone heard.\n\n'What has the duke ordered for breakfast this morning?' he asked an\nold cook, who always prepared the breakfast.\n\n'Sir, His Highness has pleased to order the Danish soup, with the small\nred Hamburg dumplings.'\n\n'Well,' continued the master-cook, 'did you hear what the duke wishes\nto eat? Are you bold enough to attempt this difficult dish? At all\nevents the dumplings you will not be able to make; that is quite a\nsecret.'\n\n'Nothing easier than that,' replied the dwarf, to their astonishment;\nfor he had often made this dish when he was a squirrel. 'Nothing\neasier, only give me the herbs, the spices, fat of a wild boar, roots\nand eggs for the soup; but for the dumplings,' said he in a low voice,\nso that only the master-cook and the breakfast-maker could hear, 'for\nthe dumplings I want various meats, wine, duck's fat, ginger, and the\nherb called the stomach comforter.'\n\n'Ah, by St. Benedict, to what enchanter have you been apprenticed?'\ncried the cook in astonishment. 'You have hit all to a hair, and as to\nthe noted herb, we did not know of that ourselves; yes! that must make\nthe dish still more delicious. Oh! you miracle of a cook!'\n\n'I should never have expected this,' said the master-cook, 'but let\nus make the trial; give him all he asks for, and let him prepare the\nbreakfast.'\n\nHis orders were obeyed, and the necessary preparations were made on\nthe hearth; but they now found that the dwarf could not reach it. They\ntherefore put two chairs together, laid a slab of marble on them, and\nasked the little wonder to step up and show his skill. In a large\ncircle stood the cooks, scullions, servants, and others, looking at\nhim in amazement, seeing how readily and quickly he proceeded, and how\ncleanly and neatly he prepared everything. When he had finished he\nordered both dishes to be put to the fire, and to be boiled until he\nshould call out; then he began to count one, two, three, and so on up\nto five hundred, when he cried out, 'Stop, take them off,' and then\ninvited the head cook to taste them.\n\nThe taster ordered the scullion to bring him a gold spoon, which he\nfirst rinsed in the brook, and then gave it to the head cook. The\nlatter, stepping up to the hearth with a grave mien, took a spoonful,\ntasted it, and shutting his eyes, smacked his lips with delight,\nsaying, 'Delicious! by the duke's life, delicious! Would you not like\nto taste a spoonful, Mr. Steward?' The latter, bowing, took the spoon,\ntasted it, and was beside himself with delight.\n\n'With all due respect to your skill, dear breakfast-maker, you aged and\nexperienced cook, you have never been able to make soup or dumplings\nso delicious.'\n\nThe cook also tasted it, shook the dwarf reverentially by the hand,\nsaying, 'My little man, you are a master of your art; yes, that herb\n\"stomach comforter\" imparts a peculiar charm to the whole.'\n\nAt this moment the duke's valet entered the kitchen and informed them\nthat the duke wished his breakfast. The preparations were now dished up\non silver, and sent up to the duke; but the head cook took the dwarf\nto his own room to converse with him. They had scarcely sat down long\nenough to say half a paternoster when a messenger came and called the\nhead cook to the duke. He quickly put on his best clothes, and followed\nthe messenger.\n\nThe duke looked well pleased. He had eaten all they had served, and was\njust wiping his beard as the master-cook entered. 'Master,' said he,\n'I have hitherto always been well satisfied with your cooks; but tell\nme who prepared the breakfast this morning? It never was so delicious\nsince I sat on the throne of my fathers; tell me the name of the cook,\nthat I may send him a ducat as a present.'\n\n'My lord, this is a strange story,' replied the master; and he told\nthe duke that a dwarf had been brought to him that morning, who\nearnestly solicited the place of a cook, and how all had happened.\nThe duke was greatly astonished, ordered the dwarf to appear, and\nasked him who he was, and whence he came. Now poor Jacob did not\nexactly wish to say that he had been enchanted, and had served as a\nsquirrel. But yet he adhered to truth, telling him that he now had\nneither father nor mother, and had learned cooking of an old woman.\nMuch amused by the strange appearance of his new cook, the duke asked\nno more questions, but said, 'If you wish to remain here, I will give\nyou fifty ducats a year, a suit of livery, and two pair of breeches\nbeside. Your duty shall be to prepare my breakfast yourself every\nday, to give directions how the dinner shall be prepared, and to take\nthe general superintendence of the cooking. As each in my palace has\nhis proper name, you shall be called \"Nose,\" and hold the office of\nsub-master-cook.'\n\nThe dwarf prostrated himself before the mighty duke, kissed his feet,\nand promised to serve him faithfully.\n\nThus the dwarf was for the present provided for, and did honour to\nhis office. And it must be remarked that the duke had become quite an\naltered man since Nose, the dwarf, had been in the palace. Formerly,\nhe had often been pleased to throw the dishes and plates that were\nserved up at the heads of the cooks; indeed, he even once, in a fit\nof rage, threw a fried calf's foot that was not sufficiently tender\nwith such violence at the head of the master-cook that the latter fell\nto the ground, and was compelled for three days to keep his bed. 'Tis\ntrue the duke made him amends for what he had done by some handfuls of\nducats, but still no cook ever came before him with his dishes without\ntrembling and terror.\n\nEver since the dwarf had been in the palace all seemed to be changed,\nas if by magic. The duke, instead of three, now had five meals a day,\nin order to relish properly the skill of his little servant, and yet he\nnever showed the least sign of discontent. Indeed, he found all new and\nexcellent, was kind and pleasant, and became fatter every day.\n\nHe would often in the midst of a meal send for the master-cook and the\ndwarf, set one on his right, and the other on his left hand, and put\nwith his own gracious fingers some morsels of the delicious viands\ninto their mouths: a favour which both knew how to appreciate fully.\nThe dwarf was the wonder of the whole town, and people requested the\npermission of the master-cook to see him cook, while some of the\nprincipal folks prevailed upon the duke to permit their servants to\nprofit by the instructions of the dwarf in his kitchen, by which he\nobtained much money, for those who came to learn paid daily half a\nducat. In order, however, to keep the other cooks in good humour, and\nprevent jealousy, Nose let them have the money that was paid by the\nmasters for instruction.\n\nThus Nose lived almost two years in great comfort and honour, the\nthought of his parents alone saddening him, and nothing remarkable\noccurring until the following circumstance happened. The dwarf being\nparticularly clever, and fortunate in his purchases, went himself, as\noften as time permitted, to the market, to buy poultry and fruit. One\nmorning he went to the poultry-market, and walking up and down inquired\nfor fat geese such as his master liked. His appearance, far from\ncreating laughter and ridicule, commanded respect, since he was known\nas the duke's celebrated cook, and each poultry-woman felt herself\nhappy if he but turned his nose to her. At length coming to the end\nof a row of stalls, he perceived in a corner a woman with geese for\nsale, who did not, like the others, praise her goods, nor call to the\ncustomers.\n\nHe stepped up to her, examined the geese, weighed them in his hand,\nand finding them to his liking, bought three, with the cage they were\nin, put them on his shoulders, and trotted home. It appeared singular\nto him that only two of the geese cackled and cried like others, the\nthird being quite quiet and thoughtful, and occasionally groaning and\nmoaning like a human being.\n\n'She is not well,' said he to himself; 'I must hasten to get home and\ndress her.' But the goose replied, distinctly,\n\n   'If thou stick'st me,\n    Why I'll bite thee,\n    And if my neck thou twistest round,\n    Thou soon wilt lie below the ground.'\n\nQuite startled, the dwarf put down the basket, and the goose, looking\nat him with her fine intelligent eyes, sighed. 'Why, what have we\nhere?' cried Nose. 'You can talk, Miss Goose. I never expected that.\nWell, make yourself easy; I know the world and will not harm so rare a\nbird. But I would wager something that you have not always been covered\nwith feathers. Indeed I was once a poor squirrel myself.'\n\n'You are right,' replied the goose, 'in saying I was not born with this\ndisgraceful disguise. Alas! it was never sung at my cradle that Mimi,\nthe great Wetterbock's daughter, would be killed in the kitchen of a\nduke.'\n\n'Pray be easy, dear Miss Mimi,' said the dwarf, comforting her, 'for\nas sure as I am an honest fellow, and sub-master-cook to His Highness,\nno one shall touch your throat. I will give you a stall in my own\napartments, you shall have enough food, and I will devote my leisure\ntime to converse with you. I'll tell the others in the kitchen that I\nam fattening a goose with various herbs for the duke, and at the first\nopportunity you shall be set at liberty.'\n\nThe goose thanked him with tears in her eyes, and the dwarf, as he\nhad promised, killed the other two geese, but built a stall for Mimi,\nunder the pretence of preserving her for some special occasion. Instead\nof feeding her on grain he gave her pastry and sweetmeats. As often\nas he had time he went to converse with her and comfort her. They\nrelated their histories to each other, and Nose learnt that she was\nthe daughter of the enchanter, Wetterbock, who lived in the island of\nGothland. Being involved in a quarrel with an old fairy, her father had\nbeen conquered by stratagems and cunning, and out of revenge the fairy\nhad changed her into a goose, and brought her to the town.\n\nWhen the dwarf told his history she said, 'I am not inexperienced\nin these matters, my father having given me and my sisters what\ninstruction he was allowed to impart. The story of the dispute at\nyour mother's fruit stall, your sudden metamorphosis when you smelled\nthe herb, as well as the words the old woman used, show me that you\nare enchanted through herbs; that is to say, if you can find out the\nherb of which the fairy thought when she bewitched you, you may be\ndisenchanted.' This was but poor consolation for the dwarf, for how\nshould he find the herb? Yet he thanked her and felt some hope.\n\nAbout this time the duke had a visit from a neighbouring prince, his\nfriend. He, therefore, ordered the dwarf to appear, and said, 'Now is\nthe time for you to show whether you serve me faithfully and are master\nof your art. The prince, who is now visiting me, keeps the best table\nafter me, as is well known. He is a great connoisseur in good living,\nand a wise man. Let it now be your care to supply my table every day\nso that his astonishment shall daily become greater. But you must not,\nunder pain of my displeasure, repeat the same dish during his visit.\nYou may ask of my treasurer all you want, and should it be needful to\nfry gold and diamonds you must do it. I would rather become poor than\nforfeit his good opinion of my taste.'\n\nWhen the duke had concluded the dwarf bowed most respectfully, saying,\n'Be it as you say, my lord; please God I shall do all to gratify the\npalate of this prince of gourmands.'\n\nThe little cook now mustered all his skill. He did not spare his\nmaster's treasures, and still less did he spare himself. He was seen\nall day at the fire, enveloped by clouds of smoke, and his voice\nconstantly resounded through the vaults of the kitchen, for he governed\nthe scullions and under-cooks.\n\nDuring a fortnight the foreign prince lived happily, and feasted\nsumptuously with the duke. They ate not less than five times a day, and\nthe duke was delighted with his dwarf, seeing satisfaction expressed\non the countenance of his guest. But on the fifteenth day it happened\nthat the duke, while at table, sent for the dwarf, presented him to his\nguest, and asked how he was satisfied with his cooking?\n\n'You are a wonderful cook,' replied the prince, 'and know what good\nliving is. All the time I have been here you have not repeated a single\ndish, and have prepared everything exquisitely. But pray tell me, why\nhave you not all this time prepared that queen of dishes, the pie\ncalled \"souzeraine\"?'\n\nThe dwarf was startled at this question, for he had never heard of this\nqueen of pies; however, he recovered himself and replied, 'My lord, I\nwas in hopes that your serene countenance would shine some time yet on\nthis court, therefore I deferred this dish; for with what dish but the\nqueen of pies should the cook honour the day of your departure?'\n\n'Indeed!' said the duke, laughing, 'I suppose then you wish to wait\nfor the day of my death to honour me, for you have never yet sent it\nup to me. But think of another dish to celebrate the departure, for\nto-morrow that pie must be on the table.'\n\n'Your pleasure shall be done, my lord,' replied the dwarf, and retired.\nBut he went away uneasy, for the day of his disgrace and misfortune had\ncome. He did not know how to prepare this pie. He went therefore to his\nchamber and wept over his fate, when the goose Mimi, who was allowed\nto walk about, came up and inquired the cause of his grief. When she\nheard of the pie, 'Dry your tears,' said she, 'this dish often came to\nmy father's table, and I know pretty well what is necessary for it;\nyou have only to take such and such things in certain quantities, and\nshould these not be all that are really necessary, I trust that the\ntaste of these gentlemen is not sufficiently refined to discover the\ndeficiency.'\n\nAt these words the dwarf danced with joy, blessed the day on which he\nhad purchased the goose, and set about making this queen of pies. He\nfirst made a trial in miniature, and lo! the flavour was exquisite, and\nthe master-cook, to whom he gave the small pie to taste, praised his\ngreat skill once more.\n\nThe following day he prepared the pie on a larger scale, and, after\nhaving garnished it with flowers, sent it hot as it came from the\noven to table. After which he dressed in his best and went to the\ndining-hall. On entering he found the steward engaged in carving the\npie, and presenting it on silver dishes to the duke and his guest. The\nduke swallowed a large piece, turned his eyes upward, saying 'Ha! ha!\nha! justly is this called the queen of pies; but my dwarf is also a\nking of cooks. Is it not so, my friend?'\n\nHis guest took a small morsel, tasted it carefully, and smiled somewhat\nscornfully and mysteriously.\n\n'The thing is made pretty well,' he replied, pushing his plate away,\n'but it is not quite the Souzeraine, as I well imagined.'\n\nAt this the duke frowned with indignation, and turned red, saying, 'You\nhound of a dwarf, how dare you do this to your lord? I will have your\nbig head cut off as a punishment for your bad cooking.'\n\n'Ah, my lord,' said the dwarf, trembling, 'for Heaven's sake have\ncompassion on me; I have made that dish, indeed, according to the\nproper receipt, and am sure that nothing is wanting.'\n\n''Tis a lie, you knave,' replied the duke, giving him a kick, ''tis a\nlie, else my guest would not say there was something wanting. I will\nhave you yourself cut up and baked in a pie.'\n\n'Have compassion on me!' exclaimed the dwarf, shuffling on his knees\nup to the prince, and clasping his feet; 'tell me what is wanting to\nthis pie and why it does not suit your palate: let me not die for a\nhandful of meat or flour.'\n\n'This will not avail you, my good Nose,' replied the prince,\nlaughing; 'even yesterday I thought you would not be able to make\nthis dish as well as my cook. Know there is wanting a herb called\nSneeze-with-pleasure, which is not even known in this country. Without\nit this pie is insipid, and your master will never eat it in such\nperfection as I do.'\n\nAt this the duke flew into a rage, and cried with flashing eyes:\n\n'I will eat it in perfection yet, for I swear by my princely honour\nthat by to-morrow I will either have the pie set before you, such as\nyou desire it, or the head of this fellow shall be spiked on the gate\nof my palace. Go, you hound, I give you once more twenty-four hours!'\ncried the duke.\n\nThe dwarf again went to his chamber and mourned over his fate with the\ngoose that he must die, as he had never heard of this herb. 'If it is\nnothing more,' said she, 'I can help you out of the difficulty, as my\nfather has taught me to know all herbs. At any other time your death,\nno doubt, would have been certain, and it is fortunate for you that we\nhave a new moon, as the herb is only then in flower. Now tell me, are\nthere any old chestnut-trees in the neighbourhood of the palace?'\n\n'Oh yes,' replied Nose with a lighter heart, 'near the lake, about two\nhundred yards from the palace, there is a clump of them; but what of\nthem?'\n\n'Why,' said Mimi, 'the herb only flowers at the foot of them. Now let\nus lose no time but go to fetch what you want; take me on your arm, and\nput me down when we get out, that I may search for you.'\n\nHe did as she requested, and went towards the gate of the palace, but\nhere the porter levelled his gun and said: 'My good Nose, it is all\nover with you; you must not pass; I have strict orders respecting you.'\n\n'But I suppose I may go into the garden,' replied the dwarf. 'Be so\ngood as to send one of your fellow-servants to the master of the\npalace, and ask whether I may not go into the garden to fetch herbs.'\nThe porter did so and permission was given, since, the garden having\nhigh walls, escape was impossible. But when Nose and Mimi had got out\nhe put her carefully down, and she ran quickly before him towards the\nlake, where the chestnuts were. He followed with a heavy heart, since\nthis was his last and only hope. If she did not find the herb he was\nresolved rather to plunge into the lake than to have his head cut off.\nThe goose searched in vain under all the chestnut-trees; she turned\nevery herb with her beak, but no trace of the one wanted was to be\nfound, and she now began to cry out of compassion and fear for the\ndwarf, as the evening was already growing dusk, and the objects around\nwere difficult to distinguish.\n\nAt this moment the dwarf cast a glance across the lake, and cried\nsuddenly: 'Look, look, yonder across the lake there stands a large old\ntree; let us go there and search; perhaps my luck may bloom there.'\nThe goose hopped and flew before him, and he ran after her as quickly\nas his short legs would permit him; the chestnut-tree cast a large\nshade, and it was so dark around that scarcely anything could be\ndistinguished; but suddenly the goose stopped, flapped her wings for\njoy, put her head quickly into the high grass, and plucked something\nwhich she reached gracefully with her bill to the astonished Nose,\nsaying, 'There is the herb, and plenty is growing here, so that you\nwill never want for it.'\n\nThe dwarf looked thoughtfully at the herb, and a sweet odour arose from\nit, which immediately reminded him of the scene of his metamorphosis;\nthe stalk and leaves were of a bluish green, bearing a glowing red\nflower, with a yellow edge.\n\n'God be praised!' he now exclaimed, 'what a miracle! I believe this is\nthe very herb that transformed me from a squirrel into this hideous\nform; shall I make a trial, to see what effect it will have on me?'\n\n'Not yet,' entreated the goose. 'Take a handful of this herb with you;\nlet us go to your room and put up all the money and whatever you have,\nand then we will try the virtue of the herb.'\n\nThey did so, and went again to his room, the dwarf's heart beating\naudibly with anticipation. After having put up about fifty or sixty\nducats which he had saved, he tied up his clothes in a bundle, and\nsaid: 'If it please God, I shall get rid of my burthensome deformity.'\nHe then put his nose deep into the herb and inhaled its odour.\n\nNow his limbs began to stretch and crack, he felt how his head started\nfrom his shoulders, he squinted down on his nose and saw how it became\nsmaller and smaller, his back and chest became straight, and his legs\nlonger.\n\nThe goose viewed all this with great astonishment, exclaiming, 'Ah,\nwhat a tall handsome fellow you have now become. God be praised, there\nis no trace left in you of what you were before.' Now Jacob was highly\nrejoiced; he folded his hands and prayed. But his joy did not make him\nforget what he owed to Mimi the goose; his heart indeed urged him to\ngo to his parents, yet from gratitude he overcame his wish and said,\n'To whom but to you am I indebted that I am again restored to my former\nself? Without you I should never have found this herb, but should\nhave continued for ever in that form, or else have died under the axe\nof the executioner. Well, I will repay you. I will bring you back to\nyour father; he being so experienced in magic will be able easily to\ndisenchant you.'\n\nThe goose shed tears of joy and accepted his offer. Jacob fortunately\nescaped unknown from the palace with his goose, and started on his way\nfor the sea-coast towards Mimi's home.\n\nIt is needless to add that their journey was successful, that\nWetterbock disenchanted his daughter, and dismissed Jacob laden with\npresents, that the latter returned to his native town, that his parents\nwith delight recognised in the handsome young man their lost son, that\nhe, with the presents that he had received, purchased a shop and became\nwealthy and happy.\n\nOnly this much may be added, that after his departure from the duke's\npalace there was great consternation, for when, on the next morning,\nthe duke was about to fulfil his oath, and to have the dwarf beheaded\nin case he had not discovered the herbs, he was nowhere to be found;\nand the prince maintained that the duke had let him escape secretly\nrather than lose his best cook, and accused him of breaking his word\nof honour. This circumstance gave rise to a great war between the two\nprinces, which is well known in history by the name of the 'Herb War.'\nMany battles were fought, but at length a peace was concluded, which is\nnow called the 'Pie Peace,' because at the festival of reconciliation\nthe Souzeraine, queen of pies, was prepared by the prince's cook, and\nrelished by the duke in the highest degree.\n\nThus the most trifling causes often lead to the greatest result; and\nthis, reader, is the story of 'Nose, the Dwarf.'\n\n\nTHE END\n\n\n_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh_\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's note\n\n\nWords in italics have been surrounded with _underscores_ and small\ncapitals changed to all capitals.\n\nOn page 78 \"hat\" was changed to \"that\" (so that it sounded like).\nOtherwise the original was preserved, including inconsistent\nhyphenation.","title":"The Little Glass Man, and Other Stories","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":41151}