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6000601051

THE SPIRIT

THE GIANT MOUNTAINS.

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PREFACE.

Kubezahl, the whimsical spirit of the Giant Moun

tains, and the hero par excellence of the following
collection of tales, is a personage renowned, and, in
spite of his queer caprices, deeply respected by both
the big and little folk of that land which he has
chosen for countless generations to honour, by taking
up hisjquarters in the very heart of it. There is
in this country no fairy power presuming to place
itself in the exalted rank to which the mighty
gnome belongs. Queen Mab, and Eobin Goodfellow
are in a double sense pigmies compared with
Eubezahl, while his name shall not be soiled by
hinting at the slightest resemblance to " Old Bogie."
Yet, as we shall see, the spirit, when it so pleased
him, could well sustain the part of either the
rewarding or the avenging genius.
There are times when, perhaps, the presence of
Eubezahl might be deemed salutary even in old
England, where little boys and girls can occasionally

VI

PREFACE.

be as naughty as their young German neighbours.

There are also moments when we wish in our hearts
that unpretending and apparently unheeded worth
might receive help from some such beneficent
spirit ; forgetting in our impatience that true merit
never falls to the ground, but sooner or later will
meet its reward.
Now, since we cannot dare to hope that the king
of the mountains will ever leave his beloved home in
the wild fastnesses of the Eiesengebirge and deign
to right our manifold wrongs in a royal progress
through these dominions, there remains to us but
one means of paying him that homage which he so
royally deserves. As we ever cherish with respect
and affection the good example of an absent and dear
friend, and endeavour to copy his noble actions, so
when we have perused the story of the deeds and
words of Eubezahl, let us go among our brethren
and strive (not losing heart, even though, like the
great gnome of the mountains, we sometimes fall
from the right path) to do likewise. Then surely
Eubezahl and thegood peasants amongwhom he chose
to dwell will not have lived their imaginary lives
unprofitably in this world, where so much good is
achieved through good example and kindly influence.

CONTENTS.
PAOE

Introduction
How Eubezahl Obtained his Name
Eubezahl Punishes a Scoffer
The Loan
The "Wicked Steward
The Plying Stick
The Alchemist
The Wonderful Thaler
Mother Alice
The Magio Book
The Patal Plant
...
Little Peterkin
How Eubezahl Punishes Trespassers
Dominions
The "Wheel
Greenmantle
.%
The Old 8hepherd
Eubezahl Punishes an Ignoramus
The Journey to Karlsbad
The Knight of Pischbach
The Magic Stick
Eubezahl and the Lying Peasant
Hans and the Donkey
How Eubezahl Punishes Cheating
The Three Pedlars
How Eubezahl helps a Peasant
The Three Carpenters

...

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...

on

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76
83

his

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qe
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106
HI
128
133
137
141
146
148
153
155

Vlll

CONTENTS.

How Bubezahl makes a Pigtail for a Woodman

The Gambler
Bubezahl and the Tailor
The Bich Baker
Why it is best to bear wrong patiently
How Bubezahl helped a Student
The Three Best Men
The Periwigs
The Orphans ...
...
...
The Wicked Nobleman
ThePio-Nio
The Good-for-nothing
The Jew
The Herb Gatherer
Bubezahl : A Petit Drama

...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
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...

158
163
166
169
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183
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190
193
196
199
201
212

THE

SPIRIT OF THE MOUNTAINS.

into)Indian,
iHE Giant Mountains, which you must
very well know, my young friends, from
your lessons in geography, though I
dare say none of you have ever seen
them, are in the south of Prussia, and divide Silesia
from Bohemia and Moravia. The principal peaks
are of immense height ; the Giant Mountain, also
called the "Snow-topped," is 4,950 feet high; also
the Stormy-cap ; and there are great rivers, such as
the Elbe and the Bober, which first begin to flow
amid their rocky passes. These mountains were, a
long time ago, the abode of a powerful spirit. His
territory above ground consisted of only a few mile?,
but under ground it spread much deeper and farther.
The gnome would often remain for a hundred years
in his lower kingdom, and seldom rose to dwell in
the upper world.
At the time when as yet no human footstep had
trodden the stunted roots of the few trees that grew
there, and before the neighbourhood was inhabited,
the lord of the mountains used to amuse himself with
frightening the wild animals out of their dens, and
B

10

INTRODUCTION.

then he would hunt them, galloping with mad speed

amongst the brushwood.
But when one day, after a very long sojourn
under ground, he mounted to the daylight, he
found, to his great astonishment, everything so much
altered, that he scarcely knew his own kingdom.
Green fields stood where once nothing was to be
seen but a dark forest, and there, in the meadows,
grazed cows and sheep, while shepherds and dogs
watched by them. In the valleys stood little cot
tages, from the chimneys of which the smoke poured
forth, and before the doors happy children played
with many a shout of joy. The gnome wondered
greatly at all these new sights, but he was yet more
astonished at the human beings, which he had never
before seen.
His curiosity was aroused, and he wished to know
more of them ; so he took their form, and thought
that he would dwell for a short time in the upper
world. First of all, he entered into the service of a
labourer, where he performed his duty very welL
Whatever he undertook he succeeded in, and he
gained so much money for his master that the man
might soon have become very rich, but he was a
spendthrift, and wasted all the money which his in
dustrious, clever servant earned ; and besides, he
never once thanked him for his faithful service. For
this reason, the mountain spirit became vexed and
angry, and found another master, to whom he hired
himself as shepherd. The sheep prospered exceed
ingly well under his care, none were ever sick, nor

INTRODUCTION.

11

did the wolf devour any while they were under the
gnome's protection ; but the man was a miser, he
was never contented, nor did he give his faithful
servant enough to eat, and whenever he could find
the opportunity he shortened his rightful wages. So
the spirit soon left this man's service, and went as
officer to a magistrate. To this duty, also, he attended
with great zeal, and in a very short time there
was no thief or murderer to be found ; but the spirit
of the mountains found that the judge was an un
just man, and allowed himself to be misled by
means of presents and flattery. So he would be no
longer servant to him, but ran away ; and as he had
always fallen into bad hands, the gnome believed
that all men were wicked, and having no inclination
to make any farther trial, he resolved to go as far
as his kingdom extended and plague and tease men,
so that at last they should leave him and his king
dom to himself.
So from time to time, when he visited the upper
world, he would plague travellers and interfere in
their business. He led strangers astray who tres
passed on his kingdom, or he would collect rainclouds, and frighten them with storm and tempest.
In the most barren parts he would place an inn, or
splendid palace ; there he would tempt poor famished
and tired wayfarers, and when they approached he
would cause all to disappear. When roguish barterers for horses came on his territory, he would
mount a splendid charger, and pretend to be some
grand lord ; but if he only induced them to buy the
B 2

12

INTRODUCTION.

horse, when they had ridden some little way on it

the steed would suddenly change into nothing but
a wisp of straw. Presently, if it happened that he
met with a poor but honest man, riding sorrowfully
on a lean pony over the mountains, he would ride
up to the man in the form of a magnificent horse
man, fall into conversation, and then lay a wager
about something with him. Then he would himself
lose the bet, and give the fortunate winner his own
beautiful horse, and at the same time would secretly
slip some rouleaus of gold into his pocket. But all
this soon became known, and foolish boys and ad
venturers who heard of it, sought to obtain in the
same manner the bounty of the mountain spirit ;
but they were always heartily deceived, for when
in high glee they mounted the horse to ride away,
it would in a short time turn into a dry branch,
which still continued to gallop on without their re
marking the change ; and so they became the
laughing-stock of every town and village through
which they passed.
In this manner he passed his time above ground,
partly as a provoking sprite, and partly as bene
factor to the poor, just as he happened to be in the
humour. The legends of Eubezahl, the spirit of
the mountains, are still current among the villagers,
and they are to be found scattered in different books.
But in this book, my young readers, you will find
them all collected together, and written out anew.
he authors from whom a great part is taken are
Musaeus, Lehnert, and many others.

firfo cguhiM <BMmuh {rts fame.

jNE day the mountain spirit glided un

seen down from his high mountain into
the valley, and wandered amongst
the green brushwood and blossoming
plants. There he saw a lovely maiden, who
was the daughter of a prince that reigned in
Silesia. This young girl was resting on the ground
with her companions. She often came with the
ladies of the court, and wandered amongst the
flowers to pick wild strawberries for her father, or
gather fragrant herbs to make some sweet perfume.
" Ah !" thought the spirit, " this bright, lovely being
would be a right gay companion for me in my soli
tary kingdom !" So saying, he carried the beautiful
Leonora off like lightning, blinding, while he did so,
the eyes of her companions with dust and sand, so
that they should not see him ; but when that was
past, Leonora was nowhere to be found, and the
poor girls filled the mountains with their lamenta
tions, while they looked without ceasing for their
stolen mistress. The king, her father, was very
unhappy at her loss. He took the golden crown off
his head, and hid his weeping countenance in his

14

HOW RUBEZAHL OBTAINED HIS NAME.

purple mantle. But the one who was most unhappy

was the princess, when she found herself suddenly
in the mountain spirit's- palace. He had caused it
to be reared in a moment, and had it decked with
more gold and precious stones than even the princess
had seen in her father's palacs. She herself wore
the most splendid garments. In one place there
stood a whole row of chests and cupboards full of
ornaments, which the gnome said were all for her.
A beautiful garden surrounded the palace, and the
trees in it bore purple and golden fruits ; and on the
grass plot, where there were most extraordinary and
beautiful flowers, was a cool, refreshing shade.
The mountain spirit was very anxious that every
thing should please his beautiful guest, and he
named her sole queen of all these possessions. He
watched her every glance, so that she should want
for nothing. But still, with all this, Leonora was
unhappy, for she wearied to return to her dear
father and companions.
The gnome noticed with pain the sadness of the
lovely princess, and he thought to himself, " She
pines for amusement, for mankind is accustomed to
society," and immediately he rose to the fields above,
rooted up from a field a dozen turnips, laid them in
a pretty basket, and brought them to the princess.
" Lovely daughter of earth," he said to her, " you
shall no longer be solitary ; in this basket is all that
you will require to make you happy in this lonely
place. Take this little wand, made of many-coloured
shells ; touch each of the turnips with it, and give

HOW BUBBZAHL OBTAINED HIS NAME.

15

every one of them whatever form you please." So

saying, he left the princess.
She did not hesitate long before she made use of
the magic wand.
"Brinhild," cried she, "my
darling Brinhild, appear !" and immediately Brinhild
was clinging to her knees, and embracing her beau
tiful mistress with tears of joy.
Leonora gave
herself up to the pleasure of having her beloved
companion with her. They wandered hand in hand
through the gardens, and Leonora plucked the
finest fruit for her friend, and showed her her
beautiful dresses, and chains, and spangles of gold
and precious stones ; and in Brinhild' s astonish
ment and admiration she almost forgot her grief.
And now Leonora changed with the wand all the
other turnips into her friends, so that she again had
her maids-of-honour, and also her Cyprus cat and
her little dog with her. And as she now had all her
old court state round her, she was very much pleased
with the spirit of the mountains, and for the first
time he saw her smile. But her happiness was of
short duration, for too soon she saw that the rosy
complexion of her friends became pale, and that she
was the only red rose amongst all the pale maidens.
Yes ; and when one morning Leonora rang her bell,
there came stumping into her room on staves and
crutches, instead of pretty maidens, old women, who
coughed and trembled so, that it was misery to see
them ; her pet dog lay dying ; and the Cyprus cat
could not creep along, she was so weak and old.
Astonished and frightened at this strange company,

16

HOW RUBEZAHL OBTAINED HIS NAME.

the princess fled from the room and called the

gnome, who soon appeared.
" What have you done to my poor maids and
companions, wicked spirit ?" said she angrily to him.
" Do you grudge me the only pleasure I can have
in this dreary abode ? If you do not immediately
give them back their youth and proper forms again,
I will never cease to hate you, nor shall you ever
see my face again ! "
"Do not be angry," implored the mountain
spirit ; " I cannot, with all my power, do what is
impossible. As long as there were sap and life in
the turnips, you could, through your magic staff,
change them into whatever you choose ; but now
they are witheredand then, the human frame must
also change according to the laws of nature, and I
cannot alter it. But be not so sad about it, loveliest
Leonora. I will quickly bring you more turnips,
with which you can again have your court. Mean
while, give Nature her gifts back again."
The gnome hastened away, and Leonora touched
the old matrons with the other end of her magic
wand, and turned them again into withered turnips,
which she threw into a corner. Then she hastened
as quickly as she could to her favourite resort a
green, grassy spot in the gardenexpecting to find
there the freshly-filled basket. But instead of this,
she saw the gnome approaching her apparently in
great distress, and he said in a perplexed tone,
" I promised too hastily, for I cannot fulfil. I
have searched the whole country through in order to

HOW RUBEZAHL OBTAINED HIS NAME.

17

find just one turnip field, but all the turnips have been
gathered, and are withering away in gloomy cellars.
And although it is spring down here, everything
above is covered with snow and ice, and we must wait
three months ere I can fulfil my promise and your
desire."
Then the princess turned her back angrily upon
the sprite, and sadly she shut herself in her room.
She never allowed the gnome to see her face, how
ever much he might plead. At last, however, he
thought of a plan ; so he assumed the disguise of a
farmer, and travelled to Schmiedeberg ; there, in
the market, he bought a donkey, and loaded him
with great sacks of turnip seed, enough to sow a
great many fields. Then he bought a meadow, and
his attendant spirits lit a fire under ground, so that
the mild heat should hasten the growth of the seed.
The seed soon shot up, and the mountain spirit
hoped for a good crop ; and the princess herself
went every day to walk in the turnip field, but even
the wondrously quick growth of the seed was too
tedious for her, and her eyes lost all their bright
ness, and her cheeks their bloom, with anxious
waiting. She was engaged to be married to a hand
some prince of a neighbouring country, and her
wedding was close at hand, when the spirit of the
mountains ran away with her. Prince Eatibor (so
he was named) sought everywhere for his bride ;
and at last, when he found all his endeavours were
fruitless, he retired into a solitary wilderness, very
sad at heart. But Leonora wished just as much to re

18

HOW RUBEZAHL OBTAINED HIS NAME.

turn to Prince Eatibor, as he wished for her ; and

during the solitary days which she passed in her own
apartment (for she angrily shunned the gnome's
company), she thought of a good plan to elude the
watchfulness of her keeper and to escape from her
imprisonment.
Gradually beautiful spring visited the mountain
valleys once more, and the turnips became fine and
large. The cunning Leonora would pull one up
every day, in order to make all kinds of experiments
with them ; she gave them numerous different forms,
apparently only for her amusement, but she had
another object in view. One day she turned a little
turnip into a bee, and sent him on a message to her
dear prince.
" Fly, little bee, when the sun rises, to Prince
Eatibor, and whisper in his ear that I still live, but
that I am imprisoned by the mountain spirit ; do
not forget a word of what I say ; then return quickly
to me, and bring me his reply." The little bee flew
from the princess's finger to do as he was told, but
scarcely had he commenced his flight than a swallow
hopped down, and killed the poor little bee. There
fore Leonora made a cricket. " Hop ! hop ! little
cricket," said she, " over the mountains, and chirp
to my prince that I am waiting for a release by his
strong arm from the power of the mountain spirit."
So the cricket flew and hopped as quickly as he could,
but a long-legged stork was walking along the same
road, and snapped him up with his beak. The
princess waited in vain for her messengers ; yet

HOW RUBEZAHL OBTAINED HIS NAME.

19

although they did not return, still she was not dis
heartened, but she gave a third turnip the form of a
magpie, and said, " Fly away, thou chattering bird,
from tree to tree, until thou comest to Prince Eatibor,
then inform him of my dreary imprisonment, and
tell him to be, on the third day from this, by the
side of the mountain, to carry me away from the
power of the gnome." The black and white magpie
flew away, flapping his wings, from tree to tree, and
Leonora watched him as far as her eye could reach.
In the meantime Prince Ratibor was wandering
through the forests, mourning for the loss of his
beautiful bride. One day, as he was sitting under
a shady oak, and calling sadly the name of his prin
cess, he suddenly heard an unknown voice calling ;
and looking up, he saw a magpie flying about amid
the oak branches, and then he began saying the
words that Leonora had taught him. When Prince
Ratibor heard the message he was full of joy ; he
hastened back to his castle, commanded a number of
his horsemen to prepare for the journey, and set out
joyfully for the Giant Mountains.
Meanwhile Leonora had all ready for her flight.
She appeared one day attired in a most splendid
fashion ; she wore all the costly jewels which the
lord of the Giant Mountains had given her, and they
shone as brightly as her eyes, which sparkled with
joy, for the magpie had safely returned and informed
her of all which had taken place. When the gnome
saw the princess so beautifully dressed, he thought
that she had conquered her dislike to the dismal

20

HOW RUBEZAHL OBTAINED HIS NAME.

abode, and would now live happily in his solitary

kingdom. He approached her kindly, and asked
" whether she were still angry with him for having
taken her from her stately home 1" For the first
time the princess laughed pleasantly, and told him
she would now willingly remain with him if he
would fulfil just one childish whim for her. To
this the gnome immediately agreed, and the princess
laughingly led him up to the turnip field, and told
him to count the turnips there, because she wished
to choose her waiting-maids and companions, and
she should like to know how many were at her com
mand. Immediately the spirit began industriously
and with great care to count the turnips, and when
he had finished, wishing to convince himself that he
had made no mistake, he began again. But he
found the number quite different to what he had at
first, and for the third time he was obliged to begin
the long and difficult task over again.
While he was thus busily engaged, Leonora took
advantage of his absence to set her plan in motion.
She chose a new, strong, juicy turnip, and changed it
into a spirited horse with saddle and bridle ; then
she quickly sprang upon it and galloped over heath
and bushes and briars, till she came to the valley ;
there, Prince Eatibor rushed forward to meet her,
and then he took the breathless fugitive under his
protection.
When the gnome had finished his
troublesome work, after a great number of countings,
he hastened to the princess, but as he could not find
her in her usual shady bower, he hurried through

{je liorst fnrnto info a giro Drantlj.

HOW RUBEZAHL OBTAINED HIS NAME.

21

the covered walks and foliage of the garden. Then

he shouted her name all over the place, and at last,
becoming uneasy at hearing no reply, he rushed up
to the top of the mountain to look all over his
territory ; there he saw his beautiful prisoner far
away in the distance, and her steed was just passing
his boundary.
Trembling with rage, the angry
spirit gathered some clouds together and hurled a
flash of lightning after the fugitives, but this only
reached the hundred-years-old boundary oak, and
split it. Beyond this oak his power ceased, and the
thunder-clouds harmlessly dissolved into a soft mist.
After he had watched the two escaped ones for a
very long time, he went in a great passion down to
his palace, but only to annihilate it along with the
beautiful garden.
Then he went as deep down
under ground as he could, there to hide his deadly
hatred of mankind in the very centre of the round
earth.
But Prince Eatibor led his beautiful
Leonora in triumph to her father, who rewarded him
with the hand of the princess, and also gave him
a beautiful city, which was called Eatibor, after the
owner.
The wondrous adventure which the
princess had met with in the Giant Mountains and
her clever flight became known all over the country,
and the inhabitants of the neighbourhood who did
not know the spirit of the mountains by his spirit
name, gave him in mockery the nickname of
Eubezahl, which means "turnip counter."

Uttk^l fraislp a Jfarffor.

INCE Eubezahl had been so cun

ningly deceived he never left the
lower world for many centuries.
But at last, the length of time
and the loneliness became too oppressive, and
as for this reason he was in a very bad humour,
a spirit of earth, who had remained with him,
out of kindness, in bis solitude, proposed that they
should make a pleasure excursion up to the Giant
Mountains.
Eubezahl at first wrinkled up his brows at this
idea, but in a little while he consented, and
although there were no railways then, the journey
was accomplished in a minute's time, for the moun
tain spirit was able, through the power of his will,
to be exactly where he wished; and accordingly
they found themselves upon a shady spot, which to
this day is called " Eubezahl's pleasure garden."
From there he looked on the valley below, where
cities, and towers, and convents were spread out
before him. At this sight his old hatred of man
kind awakened within him, and laughing bitterly,
he cried out,

EUBEZAHL PUNISHES A SCOFFER.

23

" Miserable worms of earth ! which have deceived

me with mockery and scorn, now you shall repent ;
for I shall plague and tease you, so that you shall
think with terror and fear upon the spirit of the
mountains."
Scarcely had he spoken these words, when he
heard voices in the distance. Three young men
were wandering over the mountains, and the most
daring of them cried out in a jeering tone, " Eubezahl ! Eubezahl ! come down, you maiden stealer !"
The gnome was enraged at this scoffing, and he
called the storm-wind through the pine-trees to
destroy the poor wretch who had called out so
lustily ; but he chanced to consider that such a ter
rible instance of his vengeance would frighten all
travellers away from the mountains, and then there
would be no opportunity of continuing his savage
game. So for a little while he let the offender go
in peace, but took care to remember to punish him
at some future time.
At the next cross-road the young man separated
from his companions, and arrived safely at
Hirschberg, which was his native town. Eubezahl
followed him to the inn and there left him, re
solving soon to return to him. He went to his
mountains, and planned a way by which he could
revenge himself on the mocker. Walking along he
met a Jew, who was going to Hirschberg. He was
very rich. This man Eubezahl looked upon as one
who would be a good instrument of vengeance to
him. So he assumed the form of the young man

24

RUBEZAHL PUNISHES A SCOFFER.

who had called him by that mocking name ; and

while he walked some little way with the Jew, and
talked in a friendly manner, he led him, without
the Jew's remarking it, into a thicket, where he
attacked him, threw him down on the ground, and
robbed the Israelite of his purse, which contained a
large quantity of gold and jewels. Then, after he
had belaboured him soundly, he left the poor plun
dered man lying half dead in the bushes, and dis
appeared. When the Jew had, after some hours,
recovered from his fright and bad treatment, he
cried loudly for release from the briars and
thorns, which held him fast bound, hand and
foot. Then a venerable man approached him, who
appeared to be some respectable citizen. When he
saw the Jew in such a miserable plight, he set him
at liberty, and gave him every possible help, re
freshing him with wine ; and then he led him to the
door of the very inn which the young man had
previously entered (this inn, the stranger told
the plundered Jew, was the cheapest) ; then he gave
him a little money, and left him.
How astonished was the Israelite when he
entered the inn room, and saw his molester sitting
quite contentedly at the table, drinking wine ! He
could scarcely trust his eyes, for the rascal was so
happy and light-hearted, as if he had the clearest
conscience in the world.
Without speaking a word the robbed man seated
himself in a corner, and considered how he should
regain possession of his property ; he was, at the

RUBBZAHL PUNISHES A SCOFFER.

25

same time, more and more convinced that this was

the rohber. He went secretly to the judge, and
told him what had occurred.
Immediately the
judge sent men with spears and staves to the inn,
which they entered, and brought the criminal before
the court of justice.
" Who art thou }" asked the principal judge,
" and from whence comest thou V
The young man replied with great frankness, and
not at all as if he were frightened,
"I am a respectable tailor, and my name is
Benedix."
" Have you not attacked this Jew, and robbed
him of his money V
" I have never seen the man before, neither have
I attacked him or robbed bim of his money. I am
a respectable tradesman, and no thief."
" Show your certificate."
That is a sort of letter which a tradesman must
have to prove his honesty. Benedix confidently
opened his knapsack, in which he kept his certificate;
but when he put in his hand, something jingled
like gold. At this sound the attendants thrust in
their hands also, and drew out a heavy purse, which
the happy Jew recognized as his own. There
stood Benedix, struck dumb with amazement ; his
knees trembled, and he became as white as chalk ;
no word could he say in his justification.
" Miscreant !" said the judge, angrily, " can you
still deny your crime ?"
" Have mercy, my lord," implored the poor youth ;
o

26

BUBEZAHL PUNISHES A SCOFFER.

" I call Heaven to witness that I am innocent, and

know nothing of the robbery."
" You are convicted," answered the judge. " The
found purse speaks clearly enough for your crime ;
only confess, before the torture compels you to do so."
The terrified Benedix, however, could do nothing
but repeat that he was innocent ; but when the poor
tailor saw the rack and all the instruments for his
torture, he confessed, although he knew nothing
about it. The trial now began, and Benedix was
condemned to be hanged. The people who were in
court loudly praised the wisdom and justice of the
judge's sentence, but loudest of all that citizen who
had released the Jew and was now in the hall.
That man was, as you may guess, no other than
Bubezahl, who had secretly placed the Jew's money
in the knapsack of the unfortunate tailor, in order
to revenge himself for his mockery.
In the meantime a clergyman was brought to the
poor sinner to prepare him for death ; but when he
found Benedix lying unconscious, he considered it
necessary that his sentence should be postponed, be
cause it was impossible to converse with a man who
was insensible, and so the council granted him a re
prieve of three days. When Rubezahl heard this
he went sullenly back to his mountains, there to
await the time. During these three days, as he was
wandering about the neighbourhood, he found a
young woman lying under a tree weeping. Her
dress was poor, but very neat and clean, and her
hands seemed accustomed to hard work. Now and

KUBEZAHL PUNISHES A SCOFFER.

27

then she dried her eyes with them, and sighed so

heavily that even Eubezahl was moved. So he again
took the form of the citizen, and approaching the
young woman, asked her why she wept so sadly.
" Ah ! " said she, " I am unfortunate, and have
the ruin of an otherwise good young man to answer
for."
The gnome was astonished.
" How," he asked, " can that beyour counte
nance looks good, and you to be full of wickedness 1
But, truly, men are all wicked and deceitful."
" Ah, sir, there you are wrong. Benedix is really
a good, honest man, and has no false heart. I have
been the cause of his ruin and death, for he is
doomed to die by the hangman. Benedix is my
husband, and we have scarcely been married a year ;
but our business did not prosper, and we suffered
much hunger and sorrow. Very often I was sad
and discontented ; and then, on Sundays, I saw my
neighbours walking in nice clothes to church, while
I was forced to sit, needle in hand, mending and
patching our old garments. He was noble and
courageous through all our adversity ; but so much
did my discontent distress him, that, one day, he
strapped his bundle on his shoulders, and said, ' I
will go into the Giant Mountains, where I have
relations. Very likely they will lend me a few
thalers, with which I can buy a field. Then, at
any rate, we shall have some corn for bread ; and
perhaps it will also buy you a new cap or a jacket.'
Good Benedix I Then he set off, consoled and
o 2

28

BUBEZAHL PUNISHES A SCOFFER.

happy, to Hirschberg. But my sinful discontent

has tempted him to steal others' riches, and for my
fault he must suffer a terrible death. I cannot
survive him, but I will go and take a last farewell
of my poor husband ; yet fatigue and sorrow have
robbed me of all my strength before I am half
way."
Kubezahl was touched by the anguish and sorrow
of the woman ; and for her sake, he forgot the
vengeance which he had sworn to wreak upon her
husband.
" Be comforted," said he to the weeping woman.
" You shall have your Benedix again before the sun
sets. Know, also, for your consolation, that he is
innocent, and has not committed the robbery. But
remember, after this lesson, to be more contented
with your lot ; for you now know how much better
it is to be poor and innocent, than rich and guilty."
" Ah, sir !"' cried the woman, sinking on her
knees before him, " God will reward you for thus
consoling me. Indeed, you are a good angel whom
God has sent me, although I am not worthy
of such kindness ; for, for the sake of earthly
comfort and riches have I risked my soul's
salvation."
" Leave that alone," said BubezahL " I am no
angel, but a citizen of Hirschberg. I have many
friends amongst the judges there, and they shall
soon give me your husband safe and sound, only go
home and be of good cheer."
So the poor woman returned thankfully to her

RUBEZAHL PUNISHES A SCOFFER.

29

home, and her soul was full of joy.

Then
Rubezahl assumed the form of the clergyman who
was to prepare the poor sinner for death, and went
to the prison. Oh ! how sad and cast down he
found the poor tailor !
For a long time he
conversed with the prisoner in a serious manner ;
then he said,
"I am more and more convinced that you are
innocent, my son ; but I do not know how to help
you, for your witnesses are so strong and justice
desires some sacrifice. If there were only means
to release you, I would not hesitate one minute. I
have thought of a way. You shall change clothes
with me, and then leave the prison. My long robe
will deceive the gaoler, so that he will readily open
the door for you. Here is a loaf for you to eat on
your way, and go home to your wife as fast as your
legs will carry you."
" But, my kind sir," said Benedix thoughtfully,
"you will get into great trouble and suspicion if
you aid my flight. Perhaps at last they may
torture you, and far sooner would I die than that
such should happen to so good and pious a man as
you are. If I am innocent of the theft, I deserve
punishment for many other sins, and would rather
suffer it than have your murder heavy on my con
science."
The gnome was much astonished at the feelings
of the noble Benedix, and rejoiced that he could
make amends for all the injury he had done him.
He replied,

30

KUBEZAHL PUNISHES A SCOFFER.

" Do not fear for me, my eon, my position will

shield me from such a punishment ; and besides,
1 have many powerful friends and relations in this
town, who will not allow any one to harm me."
Poor Benedix was very happy that he should
come off unscathed from such danger, and he quickly
arose, with many thanks to the noble Eubezahl, and
left the prison. But his heart felt faint at telling a
lie, and when he passed the turnkey his teeth
chattered and his knees knocked together, with
the fear that he might know him ; but at last he
came safely out of the town, and before sunset he
was with his wife.
What joy it was to her to see her darling Bene
dix safe and well again ! First, they both thanked
God for his wonderful deliverance, and the next
thing Benedix thought of was a good meal, for
after all the danger he had gone through his hunger
was very sharp, so his wife quickly fetched him
all that she had in her poor kitchen, and Benedix
cut open the loaf which the good father had given
him for his journey. But lo ! when the knife was
put in, it made a strange noise, and a lump of shining
gold fell out upon the table. Now, for the first
time, Benedix and his wife discovered who had been
their generous benefactor, and they thought of him
with grateful hearts. Soon they left their home
to go to Prague, where Benedix purchased a beau
tiful house, and soon became well known and re
spected. His wife enjoyed the prosperity for which
she had so long wished, but she did not misuse her

RUBEZAHL PUNISHES A SCOFFER.

31

riches, for she was very good to the poor, instead of

dressing herself in fine clothes, as had once been
her desire. Benedix remained good and honour
able, as he always had been, and that helped him
not a little in bringing good custom to his business.
On the third day after Benedix had left Hirschberg, the supposed poor criminal was to be led to
the gallows. Many thousands of people were assem
bled to witness the tragedy. But when the hang
man had done his duty, the delinquent struggled so
terribly, that the people would have stoned the
executioner for giving him so much pain. But in a
-little while all was still ; the limbs of the corpse
stretched out, and the crowd dispersed.
But the next morning some peasants came to the
town, who said that the hanged man still lived, for
he was moving his hands and feet.
Then the
learned council sent out a deputation to the gallows,
to learn the truth, but what did this wise deputation
find instead of the delinquent ? A bundle of straw,
clothed in old rags, like a scarecrow, which you
often see placed in fields to frighten away the spar
rows. They were all very much astonished at this,
and they shook their powdered heads so much that
the powder flew about. After long consideration, they
at -last ordered the straw man to be taken down,
and caused the intelligence to be spread that, during
the night, the heavy wind had blown the little
thin tailor from the gallows over the walls of the
town.

PEASANT who had a wife and

six children, had, through many
great misfortunes, become so poor
that very often he knew not how
to obtain bread for his family. One day he said'
to his wife, "You have some cousins in the
mountains. I will go to them ; perhaps God will
open their hearts, to lend me a hundred thalers,
which would enable us to release ourselves from
this miserable poverty." " God grant they may,"
said his wife, but with little hope in her tone, for
she knew how her cousins had never troubled them
selves at all about her. Early the next morning
the peasant set out, and walked all day, until at last
he arrived, very much tired, at his cousins' house,
when he told them of his distress, and implored
their help. But all of them sent him off with hard,
bitter words, and he was compelled to hear many
sharp speeches from the thoughtless people, such as
" people who never laid up for a rainy day deserved
to be poor," &c.
With a heavy heart he again turned homewards,
and when he came to the mountains he was terribly

THE LOAN.

33

oppressed with agitation and fear. In his journeys

thither he had lost two days' wages, and now he felt
so weak that he was certain he should not be able to
work the next day. At home his languishing wife
was expecting him, with six hungry children, and he
should arrive empty handedno money, no bread.
Oh ! how could his heart bear such misery ! The
poor man thought and considered how he could
obtain relief. All at once the stories of the mountain
spirit occurred to him. " I will seek him," said he ;
"perhaps he will listen to my sad tale." So he
cried out, " Eubezahl ! Eubezahl !" and immediately
a sooty charcoal burner stood before him, with a
great stick in his hand. He had such a wild, ragged
beard and glaring eyes, that the peasant did
not for a moment doubt this to be the gnome,
and he gathered up all his courage to make his
request.
" I have not called you from curiosity," began
he, " but from distress and sorrow. Dearest lord of
the mountains, I implore you to help me out of my
trouble." And then he told him about his wife and
children, and of the pitiless cousins, and begged so
earnestly that Kubezahl would lend him the hundred
thalers, which he said he would repay with interest
in three years, when he hoped to be much richer.
" How ! Am I a usurer 1" asked the mountain
spirit, angrily. " Go to men, your brethren, borrow
of them as much as you can, but leave me in peace,
and never call me again ; if you do, it will be as
much as your life is worth !"

34

THE LOAN.

The peasant was not terrified at these hard words,

but pictured the misery and wants of his family in
the most glowing colours.
" If you will not help me, at least strike me dead
with your stick, so that I may no longer be a witness
to sufferings which I cannot alleviate."
Eubezahl stared at the peasant, and then lifted his
heavy stick high in the air, seeming as though he
were on the point of striking him dead at one stroke ;
but suddenly stopping, he commanded the peasant
to follow him. They went through thick brushwood
and trees, until they came to a valley closed in on
all sides by rocks ; at one end there was the
entrance to a cavern, where no daylight could
enter, but there was a little blue flame which sprang
out of the earth, and illuminated the stony walls
with an unearthly glow. Excepting an iron chest,
the cave contained only an open pannier, filled with
newly-coined thalers.
" There ! take the money, as much as you require,
and, if you can write, you may make me out a bond
for it," said Eubezahl, as he took out of the case
paper and writing materials.
The peasant, meantime, with great conscientious
ness, counted one hundred thalers, and no more.
Then he wrote the bond as well as he was able, and
Eubezahl locked it up in the iron chest.
" Now go," said the mountain spirit, " and make
good use of the money ; remember the way to the
entrance of the rocky valley, and do not forget the
day of payment, for I am a very strict creditor.

THE LOAN.

35'

Here is also something for your children, which has

nothing to do with the bond."
So saying, he plunged his hand deep into the
pannier, and gave the happy father so much that he
could scarcely hold it alL He left the mountain
spirit with a grateful heart, and found his way out
of the rocky valley, taking great care to notice the
path, and then went home strengthened with the
wings of joy. His wife was sitting sorrowfully by
the empty hearth when he entered the room ; she
knew how little poverty could reckon upon wealthy
relations, and she scarcely had courage to look her
husband in the face, for fear of reading disappointed
hope depicted there.
How her heart beat with
glad surprise when the peasant opened his wallet,
and took out of it meat, sausages, and white bread
and biscuits for the children.
" Your cousins," said he to the astonished woman,
" not only received me kindly, but have also lent
me all the money I asked them for."
His wife was still more surprised, and she
thanked the merciful God in heaven who guides
men's hearts as the water brooks. And now a
new life seemed to dawn in the peasant's dwelling.
He bought seed, and sowed some patches of
ground, and he also had two cows. There seemed a
charm in the mountain spirit's money. Soon the
small parcels of ground increased to a fine meadow
and a field of wheat. For miles round no produce
was so good as that which came from his fields ;
nowhere were better cows ; and the good peasant

36

THE LOAN.

succeeded so well that he was soon able to put by

some money.
Meanwhile, pay-day was approaching, so the
peasant said to his wife and children,
" Put on your holiday clothes. Jack may harness
the horse, and we will go and pay our cousins the
money which they have lent us for three years. It
was no small delight to the children, while their
mother was pleased to be able to show her
cousins how happy they all were.
When they
arrived at the Giant Mountains, they stopped the
cart, and all of them got down, partly to make the
burden lighter for the horse, as the father said, and
partly to show the children a pretty shady path.
But they all remarked that their father looked very
carefully about him, the deeper they entered the
forest, which made his wife at last anxiously
inquire,
" Have we come the wrong way 1"
Then the peasant related to her and his children
how unkindly their relations had dismissed him,
and how the mountain spirit had pitied and helped
him. At first, when they heard that Eubezahl had
lent them the money, they were frightened; but
when he bade them remember how happy the
mountain spirit had made them, they thought no
longer of fear. After this the peasant went farther
on alone, in order to find out the entrance to the
rocky valley, but although he knew he was in the
right place, he could not find it anywhere. He
shook the money in the purse, that the spirit should

THE LOAN.

37

hear the sound, and appear, so that he might pay

him at once. But no one was visible. Quite des
pairing he came back at last ; so his wife and children
sat down with him, and waited many hours. Then
he called him by that mocking name, which, when
the spirit heard it, he seldom left the unlucky person
who said it unpunished ; and when, after this,
Eubezahl did not appear, he resolved to leave the
money under some piece of rock, where he thought
the lord of the mountains would find it. Just as he
was going to put this idea into execution, a mighty
whirlwind arose, while clouds of dust and withered
leaves flew about, and the children, who had caught
sight of a piece of paper which was blown hither and
thither by the wind, ran about for a long while after
it. One of the boys at last caught it, and as it waa
such beautiful white paper he brought it to his father.
Judge the astonishment of the father when he
recognized his own bond, at the bottom of which
was written, "Eepaid by gratitude."
" Now my benefactor knows that I have honestly
kept my word, and wished to pay my debt," joyfully
cried the peasant ; " and that is far better to me than
the present of the money. But no one shall dare to
speak in my presence against Rubezahl, for without
him I should now be sunken in poverty and distress."
And now he wished to go to the cart and return
home, but his wife so earnestly begged of him to go to
the miserly cousins and shame them well for their
unkindness. When they arrived in the village, they
were no longer to be found. One was dead, and the

38

THE LOAN.

other was driven away from his house for some fraud
which he had committed. But our peasant remained
industrious and simple-hearted, leading a quiet,
contented life, and always helping his neighbours in
distress, so that he became more and more beloved
and honoured by all who knew him, while his pros
perity increased ; and his descendants still dwell in
the mountains.

% WxM Skfoarfc
(HERE was once a knight who, by
sudden death, lost both his wife and
child. This made him so miserable
that the world no longer afforded him
any pleasure. He was very desolate in his cattle.
If he rode out to hunt, the forest seemed too
narrow for him ; wines did not exhilarate him ;
and he shut his ears to the comforting words of
his relations. At last he resolved to leave
his home for a few years ; so he filled his purse
with gold, ordered his faithful servant to saddle his
horse, and delivered up his estate to his steward,
Lutz, and then he set off on his journey.
While the knight had ruled his dominions, his
villagers and retainers had led a happy life, but
now it was changed.
The steward, Lutz, com
manded the older people of the village which belonged
to the castle to appear before him, and then he told
them that from that time they were to pay double
tribute, and that they must work for him five days
in the week, instead of three. Then he told them
to depart, without listening to their remonstrances.
For the first time the people saw what a wicked

40

THE WICKED STEWARD.

man the steward (who had been so humble to all

when the knight was at home) really was. When
they reached the castle door, they looked sadly at
each other, and shook hands with heavy hearts, and
then they all went their way to tell the sad news to
the others. The women, when they heard it, wept
and lamented, and the men were angry and indig
nant ; but they determined to wait quietly a little
while, and see what would come of it.
And they commenced as usual to work in the
steward's grounds for three days, and on the fourth
day, considering that they had done enough, they
began to work in their own fields. But in the
middle of the day came the steward, Lutz, with a
number of armed men, into the village, and drove
the peasants, heavily flogging them, into the fields
belonging to the castle. He threatened also to
punish them severely if he again found them dis
obedient ; and when they desired to see his autho
rity for demanding such unreasonable things, he
raised his sword, and said, " See ! here is authority
enough for you."
So the poor peasants were compelled to neglect
their fields ; and then happened soon enough what
they feared. Neglecting the cultivation of their
ground rendered them unable to pay their former
tribute, and especially now that it was doubled.
So the aged men went to the steward, and begged
him on their krees to retract his harsh commands.
But Lutz hunted them with a whip out of the
castle. It was heartrending to see the old men

THE WICKED STEWARD.

41

with their white silvery hairs so unkindly treated.

When the peasants were not able to fulfil these un
merciful commands, and the time came to pay and
they had no money, the hard-hearted Lutz took
their cattle from them to pay himself in that way.
At this a young peasant accused the steward of
dealing wickedly ; Lutz made his servants seize
him and bind him fast to the tail of his horse, and
he was led to the castle, and thrown into a dark
dungeon, where poisonous worms and toads crawled
about. When this was known in the village, all
the peasants groaned and lamented, but most of all
Anna, the bride of the young countryman, who had
drawn down the steward's vengeance upon him
self. No one could console her, and she wandered
crying into the forest There she met a tall knight,
who was clothed from head to foot in glittering
steel. Anna shrank back at the unexpected ap
pearance ; but when the rider (for he was on horse
back) lifted his visor, and she saw a noble, manly
countenance looking kindly at her, she gained
courage.
"Why do you weep, my child?" asked he, in
such a sweet tone that Anna felt wonderfully
comforted; and she opened her whole heart,
and told him the history of the steward from
beginning to end. The knight listened to it
attentively, and then he told her to call all the
elders from the village, while he would wait for
them at the chapel before the castle.
Anna hastened to obey his command, and, before
D

42

THE WICKED STEWABD.

the hour glass had been twice turned, all were at

the appointed spot.
"Dear friends," began the steel-clad knight, "I
have heard of the wickedness of Lutz towards you,
and as I am a wandering knight, ever fighting
against wrong and succouring the oppressed, I will
also give you your rights again. Go, call your young
men together, that I may lead them to storm the
steward's castle."
How was it that such wise and sage old men
should immediately place such implicit faith in the
strange horseman ? But it seemed to them as though
they must obey him, and they hastened into the
village to make known the knight's intention.
Then old and young took up arms, even if they
were only staves and hayforks, and they has
tened to the chapel, where the knight was await
ing them. None who were able to swing a cudgel
remained behind. When all the villagers were
assembled the rider glanced over the multitude, and
then said,
" If you have any courage in your hearts, follow
me in perfeet confidence. I will conquer the castle
for you, and treat the steward as he deserves. But
whoever is afraid let him stay at home."
Then the peasants shouted, and cried, "Lead
us !" so they hastened towards the castle, the
knight, in his glittering armour, at the head of his
brave troop.
When they had reached the castle the knight
.called out to Lutz, in a voice of thunder, to show

THE WICKED STEWARD.

43

himself upon the ramparts. The steward imme

diately appeared, merely from curiosity, and he
looked maliciously down upon the knight, who cried,
" Surrender, Lutz ! and do not hesitate longer
than it will take for twelve grains ip run through
the hour glass."
Oh, how the steward mocked and laughed at
them ! He called the knight a roving thief, and
the peasants criminals, escaped from the gallows.
Then he disappeared in a great passion, and com
manded his servants to drive the mob away from the
postern. Then there came a shower of arrows down
upon the peasants. But, oh, how wonderful !the
deadly instruments missed their aim, and at the
same moment the stranger knight raised his im
mense battle-axe, and clove the door of the castle
with one stroke. High in the air he waved his
powerful sword, and rushed in ; extraordinary
courage seized the peasants, and, shouting loudly,
they followed him. In vain was all opposition from
the steward's men. The battle-axe destroyed their
ranks like lightning, and they threw their arms
away and begged for mercy. The steward had
hidden himself, but he was soon found, for his own
people betrayed him. When the young peasant
had been released from his dungeon, the steward's
servants were banished from the place.
After this the knight drew forth a document
which contained news of the death of the lord of
the castle, who had bequeathed his possessions to
the knight because he had once saved his life in the
d 2

44

THE WICKED STEWARD.

Crusades.
nd now the stranger might have be
come their new master ; but he gave the castle and
estates belonging to it to the young man who was
to be Anna's husband ; yet, on condition that he
was not to treat the peasants as slaves, but to respect
and guard their privileges. Thus the gift was so
disposed of, that their fear and anxiety was at
an end. All this was finally written down, and
then signed by the knight. When this was done,
the new lord of the castle was married to his Anna,
and the knight gave them many beautiful presents,
although no one could tell where he got them so
quickly. Once more he admonished the peasants
to live peacefully, and when he had commanded the
trembling Lutz to follow him, he departed from
them in a manner which not a little roused the
curiosity of the peasants. A large cloud suddenly
descended, and bore the good knight, along with
Lutz, far, far away. Then the peasants knew that
it must have been Eubezahl who was their deliverer,
and they watched the cloud till it floated to the top
of a mountain and then disappeared. The new
lord of the castle was brave and kind-hearted, as
were always the favourites of the mountain spirit.
The peasants were happy, and still with gratitude
and joy they relate to their children and grand
children the wonderful legend of Kubezahl and the
wicked steward.

% ikm M&.
NCE on a time, a wanderer was
creeping, with great difficulty, amongst
the stony heaps of one of the most
solitary of the Giant Mountains. He
was obliged (not without danger) to spring from
one precipice to another, and to climb up steep
ascents. At last, however, a wild mountain peak
stopped his progress.
"It is a good thing," said he, "that I have
brought my staff with me, which has already served
me truly for so many years." So saying, he placed
it between the stones, that with its help he might
jump over a brook; but snap went the stick in two,
and the wanderer sank apparently helpless into the
brook beneath. But he sprang up again, although wet
through, and, as he was not hurt, he began to lament
over the loss of his stick. " How can I get down from
this steep mountain," cried he, " now I am robbed of
my support, and at this height there is not a tree
from whose branches I can cut a new one ?"
Suddenly a sharp voice spoke close behind him,
" What is the matter ?"
A giant form, wrapped in a mantle, stood before

46

THE FLYING STICK.

the astonished man, who had believed himself to be

quite alone in the solitary place ; but the wanderer
recovered from his surprise, and told the stranger
of his disagreeable loss.
" And that is why you are so downhearted V said
the figure, laughing in a mocking tone. " Here is my
stick for you, if you are afraid to come down alone."
With that the strange figure glided away, and as he
went down amongst the brushwood his form seemed
to grow larger and larger, and then at last he dis
solved into smoke.
The wanderer did not pay much attention to all
this, thinking that distance or shade had pro
duced the illusion ; he was very happy with his fine
new stick which the stranger had given him, and
continued his way with a light heart. When he
had gone some little distance, the stick began to be
very heavy, and wherever he placed it, every time he
lifted it again, it became heavier and heavier. At
last it was of no use as a support to the poor
wanderer, who, with great difficulty clambered up
the steep mountain, and carried the stick in his
hand. But he was forced to carry it sometimes in
his right hand and sometimes in his left, it was so
heavy, and at last he laid it on his shoulder, and so,
panting under the growing weight, he proceeded on
his way.
But presently it became so unbearably heavy that
the wanderer had to rest it on the ground, where it
very often seemed as if it were rooted to the spot,
and he could only move it with great difficulty.

SCfee JfIgiitg Stick.

THE PLYING STICK.

47

Presently the stick got, by accident, between the

wanderer's legs, and he seized it with both hands to
save himself from falling. Then in another moment
he was riding upon the wonderful stick, which flew in
terrible haste over the tops of the seven mountains.
The perspiration oozed from the pores of the un
willing rider, and he delivered up his soul to God,
for how easily could this terrible ride precipitate
him down among the snow pits, where he would
certainly be lost. At last the wanderer came right
over the middle of the fir-tree forest ; there the stick
descended and stopped. He threw it away from him
with a curse, and sank down, tired and half dead with
fear, on the moss, in the cool shade. Scarcely had
he come to his senses when he saw his old stick,
which he had broken in the morning, lying whole
and uninjured at his feet. He seized it joyfully, and
wandered on until he came to a beautiful mountain
meadow, which was the foreground to a hospitable
village close by. Then it seemed as though scales
had fallen from the wanderer's eyes, and he knew
that strange form which he had seen was the lord
of the mountains ; and when he remembered many
tales which he had heard of him, he did not doubt
but that the stick which he had given him was made
of gold, and that was why it was so heavy. Tired
as he was, he hastened through every brake and
briar to seek it. He carefully looked into the
smallest bush, but the stick was nowhere to be
found.

% glcfcanfet
JN Warmbrunn, a celebrated bathing place,
whose warm springs were discovered by
some stags, there dwelt a man who was
very poor ; he knew nobody, and was
busied day and night investigating the science
of chemistry. People said that he hoped to find
out the secret of making gold, and so earn a great
deal of money. But for this he had neglected his
former trade and lavished all his wealth in chemicals,
and was now become so poor that many days he
went very hungry to bed.
Often he would wander through the wild moun
tains behind the Kynast ruin, and late at night he
would creep round this castle, of which they tell so
many legends, and sometimes he lost himself in the
surrounding forest. Now and then he used to meet a
man in whom he placed his confidence, and he told
him why this wild place had such attractions for
him. He believed that these barren, empty caverns
contained great secret treasures.
Once, as he was sadly wandering among the
gloomy fir-trees of the mountain, he saw in the
distance a bright flame. Towards this he went;

THE ALCHEMIST.

49

arrived there, he saw a grated door, forming the

entrance to a cavern, which was lighted up ; there
he beheld a vast heap of gold and precious
stones.
The eyes of the poor man fastened greedily upon
the quantity of glittering gold which was so magi
cally shown him. Suddenly there appeared before
him that man whom he had so often met in the
forest, who said to him, " All these treasures shall
be thine, only mark well the place where the
cave stands. In three days thou shalt find it open
ready for thee."
The trees were not very thick in this part, and
the whole of the valley might be seen from thence.
From the ruin of the Kynast, the tower of Hermsdorf was visible to the left ; beneath in the valley
was lovely Warmbrunn, and in the background was
Hirschberg. The stranger made him note atten
tively the relative situations of these places,
" Look well, so that thou mayest find this place
again, for it is only so that thou canst make thy
fortune ! "
The astonished hermit looked at all with great
attention, and went away filled with delight, but
once more came back, in order to be certain that
he would know the place again.
"There is a medal for you," said the stranger
to him, " so that you may not to-morrow morning
consider it nothing more than a dream ;" and he
gave him a golden medal with curious figures
stamped upon it.

50

THE ALCHEMIST.

Then the stranger disappeared, and when the

poor man looked round, the cavern had also disap
peared, and he would certainly have taken it for a
play of his excited imagination, had he not still held
the medal in his hand. As he turned, delighted,
homeward, he noticed every step he took, and every
now and then rolled carefully great stones on the
path and marked several trees, so as to be sure of
being able to find the right place again. On the third
day he hastened to the same path, and recognized
by his tokens the right way ; then standing under
the ruin, he looked out for the three towers of
Hermsdorf, Warmbrunn, and Hirschberg. But
when he perceived the one, a rock or a tree stood
before the other, and it was in vain that he altered
his standing place again and again. Dreadfully
agitated, he first climbed high and then low, now
he placed himself right, now left, now deeper in the
wood, and now more in the open country, but he
could never see everything just the same as he saw
it when pointed out by the stranger. The sweat
ran down his forehead, his heart beat fearfully, his
eyes stared wildly around him in vain. At last he cried
out, "There ! so now I have found it." His coun
tenance brightened, and his knees knocked together
for joy ; but the illusion only lasted a moment, for
when he looked closer there was nothing to be
seen. Thus tortured with the most fearful torments,
he ran about the whole day, ay, and the whole
night too. He never returned to his dwelling again,
but wandered about quite mad for more than a year

THE ALCHEMIST.

51

among the rocks and caves, where he found only

roots and wild berries to nourish him, till at last
they found him lying dead in the wood, and the
golden medal clutched tightly between his stiffened
ringers.

ffifre IBtontofal Scaler.

?T was the fete of Kirchweih, in a little
village of the Giant Mountains. This
feast the country people celebrate
when they have collected all the pro
duce of the fields into their barns, and autumn
has shaken the yellow leaves from the trees.
On that day there is feasting and joy in the
poorest hut ; no work is done, the little room is
freshly sanded and decorated, and the good wife
bakes brown cakes made from what is gleaned
from the fields. The well-to-do farmer sits at
his richly-covered table, with friends and rela
tions around him from far and near, and over brownfried carps and geese, stuffed with apples, they
confer upon the condition of their cattle and
fields.
In the labourer's poorer cottage in the daytime all
is not so plentiful, but even there may be seen on the
table the " birnen bree," or baked pears, at which
the children look with longing eyes, whilst the
mother is cutting up the black meal cakes, and
boils coffee at the hearth. The father, in a snowwhite shirt and many-coloured Manchester waistcoat,

% fcberfal Staler.

THE WONDERFUL THALER.

53

sits before the door smoking Ms brown clay pipe,

and spreads his blue handkerchief over his knees
to protect his black leather breeches from the sun.
In the evening young and old assemble at the vil
lage inn, and dance and play at cards in the
tobacco-smoked room, while the children eat cakes
and gingerbread.
Such, then, was the feast in a prosperous vil
lage of the Giant Mountains. Music was being
played out of doors, when the mother of a little
boy, named Friedel, washed his face, gave him a
great piece of cake, and put a little copper coin into
his pocket. Friedel hastened to hear the music.
As he went he saw Conrad, their neighbour's son,
sitting on the grass ; he had a purse full of gold
in his hand which his father's guests had given
him; he was shaking it with delight at his ear,
and the sound seemed more pleasing to him than
the sweetest music.
" Just look, Friedel," cried he to his little play
mate, " this money is all mine, but I do not intend
to spend one silver groschen of it ; I mean to put
more to it, and, when I am big, buy a large piece
of ground."
Then Friedel took out his copper coin, and said,
"As I am not so rich as you are, I cannot buy
ground, but I can buy a gingerbread man, and you
shall have a piece of it, Conrad."
As the boys were talking together, a man came
by leading a barrow. He 'looked a very weak old
man ; he had fastened a great dog with cords to

54

THE WONDERFUL THALER.

the heavily-laden truck, and the poor animal was

gasping with fatigue and hunger. When the old
man stopped, the dog stretched himself down in
the dust and moaned.
" What is the matter with the poor animal V
asked Friedel, compassionately, and went nearer to
the man, while Conrad hastily hid his puree of
gold.
"He is hungry and tired," said the old man,
shortly.
" Ah, then, let me give him my cake," begged
Friedel, breaking it into pieces and giving it to the
dog ; the poor animal greedily swallowed the offered
cake, and wagged his tail with joy. At this the
good little boy was as pleased as if he had himself
eaten the cake, although he had not tasted a morsel
of it.
" Tou have done the poor animal a great deal of
good," said the old man ; " perhaps you would also
have compassion on me ; I am tired and thirsty, and
a drink of beer would be very welcome to me, but
I have no money to pay for it."
" Ah ! there I can help you," said Friedel, kindly
taking his little piece of money out of his pocket ;
" buy yourself a glass of beer with that."
In the meantime Conrad had crept away.
A kindly smile illumed the old man's face, then
he looked after the boy who was running quickly
down the street, and asked, " Why does your play
fellow leave you so quickly 1 and what did he hide
from me V

THE WONDERFUL THALER.

55

" Ah, let Conrad run ; he can give you nothing;

indeed I think he wants more, until he has enough
to buy himself a house and fields, and be a rich
farmer."
" And what would you have done with your
money 1" asked the old man.
" Oh, I should have bought a gingerbread man,
but I should much rather that you would buy a
glass of beer with it."
" You are a good boy," cried the stranger, smiling;
" come and show me the way to the inn, for I am
quite strange here."
Friedel walked by the barrow ; presently the
rotten cords which fastened the dog broke, and the
animal ran swift as the wind far away.
" Let him go,'' begged Friedel of the old man,
who was running after him to bring him back. " I
will lend you a hand through the village, and your
dog Sultan will soon return." So saying, he took
hold of the ropes, and dragged the heavy cart so
quickly along that they soon arrived at the inn.
There they stopped, and while the old man drank
his beer, Conrad came creeping in, and said
"You are a great fool, Friedel, to give your
money to the old drunkard ; now you cannot buy
any gingerbread."
"But I have made the old man very happy,"
replied he, " and if I had more money I would
willingly give it to him to do him good."
Conrad went sulkily away ; for if Friedel had kept
his money to buy gingerbread, he would have given

56

THE WONDERFUL THALER.

him a piece ; so now he went himself to the table

where it was sold, and he looked with longing eyes.
At last greediness conquered avarice ; he bought
himself a little gingerbread cake, on which he spent
a whole silver groschen. But when he bit it, he
bit only into the air, and, although the oftener he
bit, the cake became smaller, still he got nothing
inside of him. In the door of the bar stood the
old barrow man, nearly laughing himself to death
to see the frightened and yet malicious face of
Conrad, who now began to be very angry, and
declared that the woman who sold the gingerbread
should give him another piece, because he had had
nothing for his money ; and the woman, who
thought the boy was merry, at first gave him some
more, but at last she became impatient, and gave
hinf instead several hard boxes on the ear.
A crowd of children now gathered round the
fight at the gingerbread table, and they all laughed
at Conrad, who left the inn ashamed and angry.
Friedel wanted to run after and comfort him, but
just then the old man called to him, begging him
to show him the way to Buchwald, where he had
to be before night. It was already getting dark,
and as all calling and whistling would not bring the
dog back, Friedel again fastened himself to the
harness, and dragged as fast as his strength would
permit him. The old man's countenance became
more and more bright and pleased, and when they
arrived at the village, he thanked the boy, told him to
go home, and gave him a great piece of silver (the

THE WONDERFUL THALER.

57

worth of which, however, Friedel did not know), and

said to him,
" If you spend this in a proper manner, you will
become rich and happy through it." Then he took
the barrow and quickly went away, and when
Friedel ran after him to thank him he could not
see him anywhere.
" That was a droll fellow," thought Friedel, as he
hastened home. He had become very warm through
carrying his great load ; but the autumn wind now
blew keenly, and the little boy had no jacket on, so
that he was glad when he had passed the bridge, at
the end of which stood his father's cottage. There
sat Conrad, still very sad, and with swollen eyes.
Friedel felt very sorry for him ; he gave him his
hand, and said,
" Do not be so sad about the stupid gingerbread,
and the two or three blows which you have had."
" Yes," muttered Conrad. " That is all your
fault, for none but that spiteful old man can have
played that trick with the gingerbread on me. Why
will you always go running after beggars 1"
" Do not think such a foolish thing, Conrad,"
replied Friedel. " The old man was certainly not
spiteful ; only see what he has given me for a play
thing !"
Conrad became animated in a moment, for envy
and avarice reigned in his bosom. He knew in a
moment that it was a thaler which Friedel had mis
taken for a toy, and he thought to take advantage
of his ignorance.
E

58

THE WONDERFUL THALER.

" You might give that to me, if you were a kind

boy, as people say you are," faltered he. "I will
giveyou some of my money for it."
" Keep your moneyI will give you the thing ;
but now you must not be sad any more. Put on
a bright face."
This was no longer difficult to Conrad ; so the two
boys played a little while together, and then went
home. Friedel thought no more of the old man,
except to relate the little adventure to his parents,
for he had been taught that people should never
boast of any good which they may be able to do to
their neighbour.
Soon after, it became rumoured in the village
that Conrad's father must have found a treasure,
for his wealth increased every day. He bought
fields, and soon he became magistrate of the
village ; but avarice grew with his immense riches.
Conrad was no longer permitted to play with
Friedel, whose father was only a poor labourer ; and
thus time went on.
Many, many years passed away. Friedel had
become an industrious man, and lived in the little
house where his father, who was now dead, had
dwelt. He earned bread for himself and his aged
mother by cultivating the little field which belonged
to the cottage. Conrad had become magistrate in
his father's stead, and he had the finest grounds and
cattle in the whole village, but he took no pleasure
in them. The rising storm clouds frightened him,
because their rain might destroy his fields. At

THE WONDERFUL THALER

59

night sleep fled from his eyelids, for fear thieves

might break in while he slumbered, and steal his
gathered heaps of treasure. All this made him ill,
and he wandered about like a shadow. The people
hated and feared him, and he in return trusted no
one. Nobody of good character would serve him,
and therefore he was surrounded by rascals and
vagabonds who embittered his life. And so he had
no pleasure; but he often envied the happy Friedel,
when he saw him go out into his field behind the
plough, singing or whistling, and healthy and
cheerful, and whose hand every one shook heartily
when he walked through the village.
Once, in the middle of the night, the young
peasant was called to the magistrate, Conrad, who
for some days had been dangerously ill. In the
dimly-lighted chamber he found the poor rich man,
pale and miserable, and nigh unto death. When
Friedel entered, he stretched out his wasted hand
to him, and said, in a feeble tone, " I feel that I
must die, and have called you because I have
on my conscience a heavy sin which I have com
mitted against you. Do you remember, when we
were children, the piece of money which the old
man gave you 1 I deceived you about it, for it was
a thaler, and you mistook it for only a plaything.
I ran joyfully with it to my father, and told him
that I had found it. The next morning I went to
look at the coin, and was pleasantly surprised when
I perceived a second thaler by the side of it ; and
as I looked, came another and another. ' This is a
e 2

60

THE WONDERFUL THALER.

magic thaler,' said my father, and forbade me to speak

a word about it. From that time our riches in
creased for we took care never to part with the
magic thaler ; but my avaricious father never had
any pleasure in his riches, even though he could
have had mountains of money. Neither have I had
any enjoyment of the wrongly-gotten treasure. I
was a hard, wicked man, whom no one loved. The
present of that old man, whom long ago I have
known must have been Eubezahl, has been my
curse, and now all is over with me. It has been
with my earned money as it was once with the
gingerbread. I have not truly enjoyed anything,
greedy as I once was for it. Now it is all yours, as
was at first intended ; you will make a better use
of it, and will do good where I have done evil. I
am rich in the lucre of mammon, but poor in the
riches of my soul. And now I starve for one hope
of
"
A violent cough interrupted him. With a
trembling hand he held out the key to all his
treasures, at the same time desiring to see a clergy
man. Then he declared formally that he left all
his wealth to Friedel, in whose arms he died,
sincerely mourned by the honest peasant.
Friedel threw the mischievous magic thaler into
the deep forest brook. He spent a part of the
bequeathed money on good institutions, and en
joyed with his mother the large and beautiful pro
perty which had belonged to Conrad. But even
there he only considered himself as the steward of

THE WONDERFUL THALER.

61

it all. He was the good and benevolent guardian

of all oppressed and suffering people. None went
unrelieved from his threshold, and misery was
changed into joy ; his labours prospered, his fields
bore rich fruit, and beloved by all was Friedel, the
new magistrate of the village. And often, when,
after an honest day's work, he sat at the door of his
beautiful dwelling, it seemed to him as though he
saw the form of the old wheelbarrow man gliding by,
and smiling upon him with an approving and
kindly glance.

tot|er ilia.
[Link] help which Eubezahl had given
to people attracted a crowd of idlers,
careless landlords, and such like, and
they all, partly through begging, and
partly through mocking the mountain spirit
sought to entice him to appear and listen to their
complaints. For a long while the gnome allowed
them to do all this in peace ; for he despised
them too much to be angry with them. Sometimes,
however, he would cheat them by causing a blue
flame to appear before them, which they mistook
for a sign that a treasure lay in the earth where it
was ; yes, and he even let them find heavy pots,
and when, with much difficulty, they had carried
them home, they found nothing inside but stones
and shavings, where they had hoped to find gold.
Nevertheless, they would not cease from plaguing
him, and at last he became angry, and poured down
a heavy shower of stones upon the mob, which
pretty soon sent them off his kingdom. No wan
derer ever now crossed the Giant Mountains with
out fear and trembling. The gnome, however, was
no more seen or heard of for a long time.

MOTHER ALICE.

6J

But one day, as he was sunning himself

by the hedge of his garden, a woman approached,
who, by her extraordinary appearance, raised Irs
curiosity. She had one child in her anus, one on
her back, one she led by the hand, and a somewhat
bigger boy carried a heavy basket and a rake, with
which the mother collected leaves and grass for
her goats.
"A mother must be a truly good creature ,'*
thought the gnome ; " she goes about with four
children, and must, at the same time, do that hard
work."
This sight put Eubezahl in a good humour, and
he resolved to have a talk with the woman. In the
meantime she had placed the children on a bank,
while she stripped the leaves from the bushes ; but
the little ones got weary, and began to scream and
cry. So the mother left her work, and played and
laughed with them ; then at last she rocked them
to sleep, and went cheerfully to her work
again. But the gnats stung the little sleepers ; they
were again restless, and, indefatigably as ever,
the mother hastened to them, picked some rasp
berries from the bushes, and brought them to
her weeping little ones. This motherly care and
patience greatly pleased the gnome .
But the youngest boy would not be satisfied; he
threw the berries on the ground and screamed. At
last the mother's patience was exhausted.
" Eubezahl," cried she, " come and eat the naughty
little boy J"

64

MOTHER ALICE.

In a moment the sprite appeared in the form of a

charcoal burner, saying,
" Here I am. What do you want with me ?"
The woman was terrified, but she soon gathered
courage, and replied,
" I only called you so that my little one should
be quiet. You see it has done good ; therefore I
do not want you any more. Thank you for your
goodness."
" Ah !" said Eubezahl, " but people do not call
me unpunished. I keep you to your word ; give
me the screamer, that I may eat him up. I have
not had such a nice morsel for a long time."
So saying, he held out his rough hand for the
boy. Fear gave the mother the power of a giant ;
and standing before Eubezahl as a defence to her
boy, she pulled his beard hard, and cried,
" You monster I before you can rob me of my dar
ling you must tear the heart from my body."
Such a rough salute Eubezahl had not expected ;
but the courage and maternal love of this woman
pleased him. He smiled kindly, and said,
" Do not excite yourself so much. I am no mon
ster, and will not do your little one any harm.
But give me the boy ; he pleases me, and T will treat
him like a young lord, and clothe him in velvet
and satin, and he shall be a brave boy, who one day
shall support you all. Yes, you may ask a hundred
thalers for him, and I will immediately give it you."
" Ha ! " laughed the woman, " my boy pleases
you, but he pleases me also, and the pretty creature

MOTHER ALICE.

65

is of more value to me than all the thalers in the

world."
" You have three other children," said Eubezahl ;
" they are enough for you to toil for."
"Ah, they trouble me a little sometimes, but
they are still my darling children, and a great comfort
to me."
" A great comfort to have them the whole day
about you, to lead, to wash, and feed them, and to
hear their screams ?"
" Sir Mountain Ghost, you cannot understand ;
children are all the more dear to their mother when
they give her trouble, and she is obliged to work day
and night for them."
" Have you, then, no husband who can work for
youcannot he make use of his hands V
" Oh, yes ! and I feel pretty strongly when he
does use them," said the woman, with a comical ex
pression ; and she made a movement as though she
were swinging a stick.
" What I" cried the gnome, quite astounded, " to
beat such a good wife as you are 1 I'll break his
neck for him."
" Ah, you would have enough to do, if you were
to break the neck of every wrong-headed man.
Listen : Stephen is not a wicked man at heart, and
it was very distressing to him to be obliged to close
his little inn for want of money, for I did not bring
him a single groschen when I married him ; and
now, if I want money to buy the children shoes
and other necessary things, he storms sometimes

66

5I0THEB ALICE.

louder than a heathen; for, between you and me, lie

is something of a miser."
" What is Stephen's trade ?"
"He is a glass merchant, and is obliged, year
after year, to bring his heavy pack of glass from
Bohemia down to this part. Sometimes some of the
glass will break on the long journey, and for
that the children and I have to suffer. But
should not the wife bear some of the husband's
trouble 1"
Eubezahl was now satisfied, although he felt a
grudge against Stephen ; but he again began to urge
the mother to give him her child. She, however,
no longer replied to him, but finished gathering the
leaves into the basket, fastened the youngest child
to it, and turned her back on the mountain spirit.
But as she could not lift the heavy basket on to her
head, she turned once more to him, and begged
" Will you be kind enough to raise the basket
for me ? and, if you will do another kind action, give
the child that pleases you so much a groschen to
buy him a roll."
Eubezahl helped her with the basket. " If
you don't give me your little one," said he, while
so doing, " he shall have no money from me."
" Just as you will ; the child will grow healthy
and strong without rolls," replied she, sharply, and
walked on.
But the farther she went the heavier was her
basket, and at last it became so weighty that she was
not able to continue her way. She took out some of

MOTHER ALICE.

67

the leaves to make her burden lighter ; but she had

notgone far when her basket becameheavierthan ever,
and again she was compelled to take some of the con
tents out. It was perfectly incomprehensible to her ;
she had often carried a much heavier weight, without
being so tired. When at last she got home her arms
were almost broken by the heavy load. Then she
had to attend to her cottage ; so she threw the goats
their food into the stable, gave the children their
supper, rocked them to sleep, and at last she lay
down herself to enjoy a pleasant slumber.
Early dawn awoke the industrious woman to her
new day's work. She fetched her milk pails, and
went to the goat stall. But what a terrible sight
did she behold there ! Her darling, faithful animal,
the old goat, lay quite stiff and dead in the stall, and
the two young ones were breathing only very feebly.
The poor woman had in all her life never met with
so great a misfortune, and she wept bitterly.
" Oh !" cried she, " misfortunes never come singly.
How Stephen will storm, and how wild he will be
when he comes home ! Now, all my peace of mind
is gone, and I have no more pleasure in living !"
But when she had said this, her heart smote her.
" Were the goats, then, thy only happiness, and dost
thou not care for thy children 1" she asked herself.
Then she was ashamed of her cowardice, and said,
" So be it. I thank God that he has left me my
children safe and well. This is harvest time ; I can
go and help reap in the fields, then I shall be paid
something, and if I spin industriously during the

68

MOTHER ALICK.

winter, I shall be able to buy another goat by the

new year."
When she thus meditated, she was comforted, and
drying her eyes, she looked once more at the poor
goats, who were now all three dead. Suddenly
something glistened in the straw at her feet ; she
picked it up ; it was a leaf that shone like gold.
She ran in great haste to a Jewish woman who
lived near, who declared it to be gold, and gave her
three thalers for it. Who so happy now as the
poor woman ? She ran directly to the baker,
bought white bread and butter for the children,
and for Stephen a leg of mutton, which she in
tended to cook nicely for him by the time he re
turned home, tired and hungry, in the evening. In
her joy she forgot all her troubles, and she was so
pleased to think that for once she could feed her
children well ; and they shouted and jumped, and
sprang about not a little delighted when they saw
the nice white bread. Meanwhile their mother
hid the dead goats, so that Stephen should not
notice their misfortune when he first came home.
But who can describe her amazement, when she
went by accident to the trough, and saw a whole
heap of these golden leaves lying in it? Yes, and
in the basket in which she had carried the fodder,
there were still hanging a few of the valuable
leaves. Then she comprehended why her goats had
died. " They have devoured the indigestible leaves,''
thought she, while she ran to fetch a knife, with
which she cut open their bodies, and immediately,

MOTHEB ALICK

69

as she had expected, great lumps of gold fell out.

Then the poor woman felt so rich that she believed
she should never use so much money in all her life.
She went joyfully to the pastor of the place, who
was a pious man, and he consented to take care of
her treasures for her.
" If I might give you counsel, my good woman,"
said he, " do not let your husband know anything
about it ; he would take all the money for himself,
and give none to you and the children. I will
write a letter in a foreign language, as though it
came from your brother, who is far away in distant
lands, and you must say he has sent you a little
money. Then you can give Stephen a part, by
degrees, but not all at once, for that would only
get him into trouble."
The good woman was very well content with this
arrangement, and gave a handsome sum to the
minister for the poor of the village ; and also she
bought for the church a new altar-cloth ; for she
was grateful to God for this unexpected blessing,
and wished to prove it by her good deeds.
In the meantime Stephen was coming home over
the mountains, with a heavy pack of glass-wares.
He was very much tired, and as on his way he saw
a beautiful meadow, he thought he would lie down
a little while and rest. There was the trunk of a
hewn-down tree close by ; on this he placed his
pack, and then he turned to sleep comfortably in
the green grass, amongst which bloomed many
bright buttercups and daisies. He reckoned what he

70

MOTHER ALICE.

thought to gain by the sale of the contents of his

basket. " I will buy myself a donkey in Schmiedaberg," said he, half aloud, "and he can carry my
heavy load instead of me. My wife is young and
healthy, and she can work for the children, so I
will not give her any of my earnings this time.
Besides, she has the goats, and the children can
wait some .time yet for their winter clothing. Next
time, if I can bring a double load of glass from
Bohemia, then I shall have double wages, and after
that I may be able to make my donkey a horse.
Then I will have a piece of ground. There is some
by my house, and my wife can work in it ; she has
young robust limbs. In time I shall buy a little
property, and then Alice and the children shall have
their new clothes."
While Stephen was thus indulging in these
castles in the air, a mighty whirlwind suddenly
arose, which blew the basket of glass from the trunk
of the tree, and all the wares lay broken into a
thousand pieces. This was the most dreadful thing
which could happen to the miserly man. Perfectly
out of his wits, he rushed to the pieces, with the
destruction of which all his fine hopes were
destroyed. Suddenly he heard a m o eking laugh
close by him ; he looked round in astonishment, but
saw no one ; yet what mostly surprised him was
that the tree on which he had placed his load had
quite disappeared.
" Bubezahl," cried he, in a rage, "you mischiefmaker, you have done this to me ! How have I

MOTHER ALICE.

71

offended you, that you treat me so ? Bather

come and eat me, you malicious hobgoblin, you
wicked rascal, for you have ruined me !"
Stephen spoke these words in bitter, serious
earnest ; but Bubezahl neither let himself be seen nor
heard.
Poor Stephen was at last compelled to gather up
the broken pieces, so that he might at least sell
them, and so get something to help him to begin
business again. He thought and pondered how he
could get enough money to buy some more glass,
but he saw no way. At last his wife's goats occurred
to him.
" If I only had them, and could sell them,"
thought he, " they would help me a great deal ; but
I am sure Alice will never give them to me, for she
requires their milk for the children. How would
it be, however, if I were to creep at midnight up to
the cottage, and steal them out of the stall, and then
drive them to the market at Schniiedeberg, and sell
them t Then with the money I would buy some
more glass. Alice would not see me. Then after
wards I will scold her well for being so careless as
to allow the goats to be stolen. Yes, I will by this
stratagem help myself out of my trouble."
In order to accomplish his design, Stephen went
as near to the village as possible, and hid himself in
a bush until night came. Then he stealthily com
menced preparations. He got over the fence and
opened the goat stall ; the door was not bolted, as
usual. He was very glad of this, for now he had

72

MOTHER ALICE.

found a pretext for scolding his wife for her

carelessness. In the stall all was quiet. He felt
the trough ; it was quite empty. In his first fright
Stephen thought there had been a thief before
him, and was so troubled at this idea that he
threw himself down on the straw, very sad at having
lost the last means by which he could gain his
livelihood.
In the meantime Alice had prepared his supper,
but she waited in vain for her husband, and late in
the evening she ran up the road, and looked so long
for him that her eyes ached. She went back again
in great distress, for she thought Stephen must have
met with some accident, and she could not sleep the
whole night. In the morning something knocked
softly at her door. It was Stephen, who had passed
the night very uncomfortably in the goat stall
" Dear wife," said he, in a most unusually loving
tone, " open the door, for I am tired." Alice heard
her husband's voice, and she sprang like an antelope
to embrace him, rejoicing to see him safe and sound.
But he put his basket on the bench with a very
dejected air, and then threw himself down beside it.
When Alice saw him so sad, it smote her heart.
" What is the matter, Stephen J" she kindly
asked him. " Have you had some misfortune 1"
With many sighs he related to her what had hap
pened. Alice would have liked to have had a good
laugh at the trick which Eubezahl, with good
intent, had played her husband. But when he asked
about the goats, she was much tempted to plague

MOTHER ALICE.

73

Mm a little, " for," thought she, " the master of the

house should think of his children first."
" Why do my goats trouble you V she said. " You
have not asked after the children yet. And do not
let Eubezahl's trick trouble you. Who knows but
what he may make it good."
" You may wait long enough for that," grumbled
Stephen.
" Oh," replied his wife, " unhoped comes often.
If you have no glass and I no goats, still we have
four strong arms, and that is better."
" Now God forbid," cried the miserable man.
" Are the goats really gone ? then I can no longer
keep the children."
" But I can !" said Alice.
At these welcome words the minister who, at
the door, had overheard the conversation, entered;
and when he had given Stephen a good lecture on
avarice, which is the root of all evil, he told him
that his wife had received a rich present from her
brother ; and he took out the letter, from which
he read that Stephen was not to have possession of
the money, but that he, the pastor, should take
care of it, and see that Alice and the children had
a proper share.
Stephen stood petrified and could not articulate a
word. At last, his good wife took his hand, and
spoke comfort to him ; then he resolved to be a
kinder and better man, and promised this to his wife
before the good pastor; then he begged Alice not to
leave him now that she was rich. He honestly kept
P

74

MOTHER ALICE.

his word, and his industry increased the mountain

spirit's timely gift.
At last, the pastor bought a beautiful farm, where
Stephen and his wife lived happy and contented all
their days. The good faithful mother had great
happiness with her children. The little boy,
Eubezahl's favourite, became a brave soldier, and
served with great distinction in the thirty years'
war, under Wallenstein.

lap look.
MAN" who by his avarice had become
exceedingly rich, had no greater wish
in the world than to possess a little
magic book, which should teach him,
according to his will, to make the rain or sunshine
to appear, to render him invisible, and to find
golden treasures in the earth. But as he could
nowhere obtain such a book, he resolved at last to
beg Eubezahl for one, and he hoped he would give it
him immediately.
So he went to the neighbourhood of Eubezahl's
kingdom, and after a long time he found thegnome
sitting by the mouth of a horrible cavern, and he
gave him the book which he wanted.
The man joyfully hastened home, in order to prove
its power, but when he opened it, and was going to
read, there was nothing inside but leaves and stalks
of withered plants !

f 2

% fatal flani
^UBEZAHL had his own herb garden in
the mountains. You may see it to this
day, not far from a meadow, on an over
hanging rock. The mountain is very
fertile, being covered with fine herbs, which from
time immemorial have been used for powerful
scents and essences, and the villagers also use
them for tea and medicines. Amongst all these
healing herbs one is very much celebrated, and well
known in the world of fairy tales and legends. This
magic plant is called the spring root, and grows only
in Rubezahl's garden. It is beautiful to look at, and
will cure the most wearisome and obstinate diseases.
But as it nourishes his attendant gnomes, the spirit
will only permit his greatest favourites on this
upper earth to pluck it unpunished.
Once in Liegnitz a very grand lady was sick ; she
commanded that a peasant should be called to her,
and she gave him instructions to go and gather a
spring root out of Eubezahl's garden, for which
she would give him a handsome reward. The gold
tempted the peasant to perform the dangerous
journey. He sought for the place, and when he had

THE FATAt PLANT.

77

entered the solitary region, he seized his spade, and

began to dig up the spring root, which he imme
diately recognized. Whilst he was deeply busied at
his work, he heard suddenly from a rock the sound
of a mighty whirlwind, and then a voice like
thunder ; the language which it spoke, however, he
did not understand. He looked up in terror, and
perceived at the edge of the rock a giant-like and
terrible form. A long white beard fell down to his
feet, and a frightful large nose almost covered his
face, and there were also long white hairs over his
face, which flew about in the wind, and from there,
and also from the heavy folds of his mantle, the
storm seemed to rush out. The wild, terrible old
man held a large club in his hand, and he cried out
in a voice like thunder,
" What art thou doing there, miserable man V
A shudder shook the limbs of the strong peasant,
before he could gather courage to reply.
" A sick woman desires a spring-root, and I am
seeking for one."
Then the figure said : " You have found one, that
you may keep, but beware of coming a second
time ! " so saying, he shook his club in a threatening
manner.
The peasant fled as quickly as he could, and did
not venture to look again at the fearful apparition.
But when the sick lady gave him a handful of
thalers for the plant, he forgot his past terror, and
made himself happy with the money.
The lady was scarcely in possession of the won

78

THE FATAL PLANT.

derful plant before she became stronger and better.

When she saw that this would be a means of curing
her, she ordered the peasant to her again.
"Will you," said she, " fetch me another springroot ; you shall have double the money which you
had last time."
" Ah, noble lady," replied the peasant, very much
frightened, " I dare not venture again in Eubezahl's
garden, for a terrible figure appeared to me there,
and has threatened me with death if I go again."
" But consider what a reward you will have ; the
mountain ghost only wanted to frighten you, so that
no one shall go and disturb him in his dreary abode.
Besides, who has ever heard of Eubezahl doing
a wilful injury to any one ? "
In this manner the lady sought to reason the
peasant out of his fear, and at last he could not
withstand her coaxing words, and her still more
enticing promises, and, for the second time, he ven
tured to trespass upon the mountain spirit's terri
tories.
He dug in great fear and haste, but scarcely had
he put the spade twice in the ground, when he heard
the same terrible sound, only more awful than be
fore, and when, pale with fright, he looked towards
the rock, there stood the figure iu a most threatening
attitude, and its eyes appeared to vomit forth flames
of fire.
" What dost thou do there V growled he ; and
his voice sounded like an earthquake.
" I am seeking for the spring-root for a sick lady

THE FATAL PLANT.

79

who will pay me well for it," the peasant ventured

to reply.
At this a fearful glance darted from the spirit's
eyes. " I have warned thee, and thou still venturest
to hasten to thy destruction. Fool ! that which thou
hast thou mayest retain ; now, deliver thyself if thou
canst."
At these words the dreadful club went whizzing
through the air after the trembling man, but he
sprang on one side just at the right time, and the
club struck into the ground. The earth trembled
at the mighty blow, and long-echoing thunder over
powered the peasant, and he sank senseless to the
ground.
After a while he recovered from his swoon, but
all his bones seemed trembling and broken. Fortu
nately he still held the plant in his hand, and keep
ing a fast hold of that, he crept in great pain along
the ground. The rain and thick fog wetted him
through, and he lost his way ; now he was at the
edge of a dangerous precipice, and now close by a
rushing stream which stopped his progress.
Two long days and nights he wandered, half-faint
ing, through the mountains, without being able to
find his way, until at last a charcoal burner met
the poor unfortunate, and carried him half dead into
his hut. The peasant, after many days, was able
to carry the hardly won roots to Liegnitz, where the
rich reward at last made him forget his terrible
fright.
A long time passed, during which the sick lady

80

THE FATAL PLANT.

quickly regained her health, and she felt scarcely

amy bad effects from her illness.
" If T had only one more fresh root, I feel as
though I should be well for ever," said she, and then
she sent once more for the peasant, who at first
would not come. But lust for gold is a bad spirit,
who leads us astray against our will ; so it was with
the peasant, and at last he went to Liegnitz, and
said,
" Here I am, noble lady. What do you wish of
me 1 I will do anything for you, except go again
into Eubezahl's garden. God keep me from that !
Did you know how badly I was served last time,
and how nearly I lost my life ? Do not remind me
of that dreadful affair."
" Oh," answered the lady, " I conjure you, for the
last time, to fetch me the healing plant. I am rich
enough to recompense you for every fear and danger,
and will give you fine fruitful possessions, if you
will once more go that dangerous path for me."
The promised riches so blinded the peasant
that he forgot all danger, and promised the lady
that he would fetch the herb, even though it should
cost him his life.
"Until now," said he, "the spirit has only
threatened me, and for so many riches surely I could
brave a fight. But after this no power on earth
shall persuade me to go again into the mountains.
I shall be a rich man then, and live in wealth and
happiness.
But this third time he did not venture to go alone ;

THE FATAL PLANT.

81

he took, therefore, his eldest son with him, and told

him he was to go to the spirit's garden. The boy
was delighted, and^they began to ascend, until at
last the mountain became steeper, and more barren.
Far below in the valley the snow glistened, clear
and white, like a shroud, although it was the height
of summer. Sad thoughts arose in the peasant's
mind ; he knew not how it was, but suddenly he
heard a voice murmuring in his ear,
" Wicked spirits have had power over thee since
thy youth, so that thou hast never striven after
eternal good, but only earthly happiness. Thou
hast lived an unprofitable life, as though, when death
came, thy being would be over. Riches and the lust
of the world were thy idols, and they will lead thee
to destruction."
But the peasant tried to still the warning voice
by thinking on the happy life which he would le ad
when he should get his reward. So he quickly
seized the spade and began to dig. Then there
arose a great wind, the trees in the valley below
bent under its violence, and the clouds poured down,
so that in a moment the smallest brooks swelled
into wild torrents, the earth groaned, and a terrible
cleft suddenly appeared in the rock, whence issued
a gigantic figure, which approached and seized the
senseless peasant, and then disappeared with him
into the horrible abyss. Weaker and more distant
might be heard the cries of the unfortunate man.
At last the dark overhanging clouds disappeared, the
storm had blown down the fir-trees, and the for

82

THE FATAL PLANT.

saken boy, in great sorrow and terror, sought the

neighbouring chapel, in order to throw himself under
the protection of God.
At the same hour the lady in Liegnitz died sud
denly !

fittle I etekin.
ITTLE PETERKIN'S mother was dead,
so his father took a relation into
his house, and the boy was placed
under her charge. She made him
go out the whole day into the forest to chop and
fell wood, and she was cross and unkind. She could
not bear Peterkin, because he was always gay and
happy, and played about as if the whole world
belonged to him. On this account she complained
to his father of him, and, when the poor man came
home, tired from his hard daily work, she grumbled
so much to him about his son's disobedience, that,
without further delay, he seized a stick and flogged
the poor little boy most unmercifully.
Eemonstrance would only have still more enraged
the angry man, so Peterkin submitted to his father
-without a murmur, and became quite accustomed to
be scolded by his aunt, and beaten every evening,
without any reason, by his father. As he had no
pleasure in being at home, his greatest delight was
to be out in the fields ; there he did not see his
aunt's malicious face, and there no one scolded o
beat him. But winter came at last, and put a stop

84

LITTLE PETERKIN.

to his liberty. Out of doors, on the fields, and on

the high mountains, all was snow, and Peterkin was
nearly frozen in his little thin linen jacket. And
now his only pleasure was to go outside the cottage,
and crumble up as much bread as he could spare
from his own breakfast for the sparrows. And
when the birds flapped their wings and hopped
around him, his heart beat for joy, and often he
gave them all his black bread, quite forgetting
that he himself must go without.
One day
his aunt expected a guest, and so she had bought a
fish for dinner. Peterkin, by chance, came by the
tub, in which the woman had put it for a little
while, so that it should not die before she wanted
to kill it.
"Poor little animal," said Peterkin, " wouldst
thou not much rather be in the great pond than in
this spoonful of water ? Thou hast not room to
move about. Come, I will give thee a little more
freedom."
So saying, he carried the writhing fish out to the
brook which flowed by the house. But when the
fish made great waves by lashing his tail about, and
then swam away over the white pebbles, Peterkin
danced about for joy. But his aunt guessed directly
that her nephew had carried away the fish, and she
said he did it out of malice ; so, when evening came,
there was something else to complain of to his
father, and that night the father beat his incorrigible
boy most unmercifully.
But Peterkin thought to himself, "Without

LITTLE PETERKIN.

85

beating and hardships no man will grow big ; " and

so he shook himself and forgot it.
It vexed his aunt the more because the boy never
cried or complained, and she thought of all sorts of
ways to do him harm. One day she sent him out
into the fields, and said, "You must not dare to
come home again before you have filled this sack
with ears of corn, for we have no more bread in the
house."
This intelligence very much distressed Peterkin,
but only on account of his father, who had been ill
for a long time and not able to earn anything;
besides which he did not spend a very happy life
with the scolding aunt. Contrary to his usual
mood, he set out very sorrowfully to the fields, and
for a long time he sought so carefully for the grains
that his back ached. But mid-day was passed, and
he had scarcely filled the bottom of the sack ; for
only very poor people lived in the village, and they
cleared out their fields as cleanly as possible, and
left very few straws lying. " And then," thought
Peterkin, " the dear little birds must also have
some of it," so that here and there he left a grain
lying.
At last the sun went down, and he had not half
done his task. The tears filled his eyes when he
thought of his poor sick father. Suddenly, an
aged-looking man, dressed like a hunter, stood
before him, and asked him why he wept. Then
Peterkin frankly told him all his troubles ; nor did
he forget to mention his wicked unkind aunt

86

MTTLE PETERKIN.

" Would you like something bad to happen to

the woman who treats you so unkindly 1 " asked the
stranger.
" Something bad ?oh, no ; but I should like that
my aunt might dance and laugh for a whole day, so
that she might know what it is for people to be
happy, and then, perhaps, she would not be so cross
and sullen."
The hunter could not help laughing at this idea of
the boy. Presently he clapped his hands very
loudly, and all at once there came flying a whole
cloud of birds, who alighted upon the corn-field ;
then they began to pick up the straws with their
beaks, carrying them all to one place, and so made a
great heap of them. Then the hunter pointed to it,
and said to Peterkin,
"Now fill the sack with them."
Peterkin, full of amazement, did so, and see, he
has soon filled his basket, and his task is done. The
hunter was no longer to be seen or heard, but the
little birds remained with him, and flew by his side
all the way to his father's cottage, and they sang so
beautifully that his heart beat for joy at the sound.
But his aunt made an ugly grimace, for she
thought that Peterkin could never find so many
grains as she had commanded him to collect, and
she thought he would never return without them for
fear of punishment, but that he would wander forth
into the wide world.
But Peterkin was very happy now that his father
could have a good supper, for the miller's wife had

LITTLE PETEEKIN.

87

given him soup and bread in exchange for the corn

which he had collected, and, although he had
nothing but two cold roasted potatoes for his own
supper, he did not complain.
The next day his aunt said to him,
" Go and fetch a fine fish out of the pond, so that
I may cook ti. But do not come back emptyhanded, for if you do, I cannot give anything to
your father to eat, and he is now beginning to have
a good appetite again."
Peterkin went very sadly to the brook with his
little net, and he thought,
" If my father were only well again, so that my
aunt did not reproach him for every morsel of bread
he eats, I should be so happy, and I would willingly
bear my floggings every evening. Oh, if he were
but strong enough to let me feel the strength of his
arml"
Thus thinking to himself, he sank his net into
the water, but hour after hour passed, and he had
caught nothing, then he sat down amongst the
rushes, and cried bitterly. He had not remained so
long, when he saw the old hunter again approaching
him, and he asked him why he wept.
Peterkin
related how unkind his aunt was to his father, and
that she would let him starve if he did not return
home with a fish. The hunter again clapped his
hands but very softly, then he told the boy to dip
his little net once more into the stream. Imme
diately a great fish rose, driving a quantity of smaller
pikes and barbels before it, right into the net, so

88

LITTLE PETEHKIN.

that it became filled in no time, and Peterkin was

even obliged to empty some out.
" Do you not know that fish 1" said the hunter;
" it is the same which you took out of the tub, and
carried back to the little brook near your cottage."
Peterkin was still more surprised at this, and he
watched the fish, who slowly swam away, till he
was lost to sight. In the meantime his kind
friend, the hunter, had again disappeared ; and
Peterkin ran joyfully home, for, from what he had
caught, his father would have enough to last for
many days.
As the wicked woman found she could not do any
harm in this manner to the good little fellow, her
hatred towards him increased, and she resolved to
rid herself of him for ever. She told him that on the
following morning he must climb the mountains and
call for Eubezahl, and when he appeared, Peterkin
was to ask him for a little man made of a root ; for
she said, if his father had that, he would be well in
no time. He was not to dare to return without it,
but should go on calling Eubezahl until he appeared,
and gave him what he asked for.
In her wicked heart she thought the mountain
spirit would kill Peterkin, if he called him by his
nickname, and therefore, by this means, she should
never again see the object of her dislike. Besides
this, she thought the sick man had not long to live,
and, when they were both gone, the cottage and all
that was in it would belong to her.
The boy, indeed, had heard all kinds of horrible

LITTLE PETERKIN.

89

tales about the gnome ; but he thought, " All the

people in the village call me brother Happy-heart ;
and my darling mother, who is now in heaven, used
also to tell me many funny stories of Rubezahl,
and by them I have learned that even the gnome
himself will do no harm to an innocent and joyful
heart, and that he is not nearly so bad as he is re
presented."
With this thought he set out, cut himself a stick,
and began climbing the mountains.
" Ei, ei !" he heard a voice all at once calling
behind him ; " are you going to wander into the wide
world, Peterkin f
He turned round, and saw the hunter sauntering
from under the trees.
" Listen," said the merry little boy. " Now I am
to go to Eubezahl, and ask him for a little man made
out of a root. My aunt says that that will make
my father well; do you know whether it is true 1"
" I cannot tell, but are you not afraid to appear
before the wild mountain spirit?"
" Oh, he will surely allow people to speak to him
curious old gentleman ! and besides, I am sure
he is not so bad as people make him out. What
harm can he do to me ; a few blows and boxes on
the ear will not be much, for I am quite used to
them from my father, when he is well enough."
" I do not think Herr John (for so the spirit was
sometimes called) would do you much harm, you
silly boy," said the strange hunter. "Yet who
knows whether you will be able to meet with him }
G

90

LITTLE PETERKIN.

But we hunters have lived so long in the -wood that

we know all nature's secrets, and so I can myself
fulfil your wish. Here is a little root man for you.
Your father must wear him round his neck, fastened
by a string, and it will cure him. So now go home,
you little merry heart."
Peterkin had no time to thank the good old man,
who was rapidly striding away over the fields, and
at the same time appeared to be going higher and
higher, until his head reached a cloud, into which
his whole form disappeared. This was unaccount
able to our little friend, and he ran as fast as he
could to the village, with the little root manikin in
his hand, on which he had scarcely time to look
His aunt met him at the door, looking very angry.
" Weeds will not wither," muttered she between
her teeth, as she welcomed Peterkin with a heavy
blow. He opened his hand to show her the root
man ; but lo ! she had scarcely looked at it, when she
burst out into a screaming laugh, and ran about as if
pursued or stung by the tarantula.
Peterkin looked in astonishment, first at his
aunt, and then at the old hunter's gift, and could
not tell what had come to the woman. The root did,
indeed, look very comical, for it exactly resembled
a little deformed man, with long spindle shanks, and
arms to match ; his head and body were very thick
in proportion to his limbs, and his face was a mali
cious grinning caricature. A pigtail, longer than the
whole wee figure, completed the wonderful appear
ance of the little root-man. Yet still Peterkin could

LITTLE PETERKIN.

91

not understand why his aunt should never cease

laughing. He approached her to try and show her
more closely the object of her laughter, but at this
she was quite beside herself ; the tears started from
her eyes, and she fell breathless on the sick man's
bed, where she continued to laugh still more loudly
and violently.
All at once it occurred to Peter what he had once
told the wonderful hunter, that he wished his aunt
might spring and jump about a whole day, and when
he remembered that, he no longer doubted that it
was Eubezahl who had appeared to him in the
guise of a hunter, and had now fulfilled his wish.
His next thought was that the root would certainly
cure his father, for the mountain gnome always
kept his word, and so he quickly tied the little man
round the invalid's neck In so doing he again had
to come near his aunt, who lay half dead at his
father's feet. She sprang up as though she were
mad, then rolled on the floor, and when she reached
the open door of the room, she rushed out into the
village, and far in the distance they could still
hear her shrieking laughter.
From that hour the patient recovered, and, as
Peterkin related all that had happened, and in what
manner he had met with Eubezahl, his father
opened his eyes wide at the wrong which the
wicked aunt had done to little Peterkin, and he
resolved that she should never enter the house again ;
but she stayed away of her own accord, for she had
almost met her death in her merry dance, which
g 2

92

LITTLE PETERKIN.

Peterkin had caused, and no power in the world

could again bring her near the little boy, whom she
believed had enchanted her. She went right away,
many, many miles from the village, and so Peterkin
lived happily now, for his father was again strong
and welL And one day, as he was digging at the
root of a tree, he found some old gold coins, with
which he bought a piece of ground and a cow. Yes,
he was so successful in all he did that he soon be
came the most prosperous farmer in the mountains ;
and Peterkin was able, in the winter, to scatter a
great many grains of food for the dear little birds,
and also, in severe winter, to carry food into the
forest for the stags and deer. The wicked aunt died
of envy and malevolence ; but Peterkin lived long
and happily, and often related, with great glee, his
adventure with the wonderful hunter.

'gammons.
LHE mountain spirit would never allow
dogs to come near his mountain, for he
had his own hunters and hounds, and
sometimes he would go out hunting
himself.
This command of his was well known, although
nobody could learn who first knew it ; therefore no
one dared to cross the mountain when they had a
dog with them.
But once an ancient possessor of Warmbrunn, an
ancestor of Count Schlafgatach, compelled one of
his hunters, for whom he had had a house built in
the wildest part of the mountain, to keep a hound
there also. The first night that they were there a
great disturbance was in the solitary dwelling. Doors
slammed, and the windows rattled as though there
were a raging storm without, and yet there was not
a breath stirring. The dog first of all howled
loudly, then he began to whine and moan most
piteously, until the sound of it became weaker and
more distant

94

RUBHZHAL PUNISHES A TRESPASSER.

Next morning, when the hunter searched for the

dog, it had disappeared. Days passed, during which
he sought everywhere in vain for the faithful animal,
and, after a long time, he found some of its limbs,
all torn to pieces, a very long way from the house.
From that time no one has dared to bring hounds
again on to Eubezahl's property.

% K|l
*ITH a great deal of trouble a coach
man once rolled a wheel through
the mountains. He had reached
a steep height, and had rolled the
wheel against a tree, then he laid himself down
under its cool shade, and, being very much tired, he
fell asleep. By the time he awoke, Eubezahl had
taken the form of the wheel, and when the coach
man tried to roll it farther, in spite of all his exer
tions, he could not move it.
At last he was able to push it from the tree, to
which it had hitherto stuck as if nailed, but then it
fell a hundred times heavier on the ground.
At last, while the exhausted man was cursing the
wheel, which he had given up all hopes of being
able to get away, it stood upright of itself, and when
lie touched it, it rolled away with astonishing
speed over stones and roots of trees, and then right
down the mountain.
Panting with fatigue, the coachman was obliged
to run after it, noticing in wonder how it rolled up
the mountains, and down the mountains, all with
the same swiftness. When he was far away from it

96

THE WHEEL.

it seemed to move slower, so that he thought he

could soon reach it ; but when he was near to it, it
rolled away faster than ever.
So the wheel ran, with the coachman behind it,
over mountain and valley, until at last he succeeded
in catching it. Now he held it with all his strength,
but the wheel fell on .the ground, and carried the
coachman down on it.
Suddenly it rose and flew through the air like an
arrow, until at last it laid itself down, with the ex
hausted coachman, before his master's house.

tiaenmnttle.
lxf the most terrible and desolate part of the
Giant Mountains there stood a little hut,
in which lived a poor charcoal burner,
named Cadmann, with his son Gonrade.
Conrade was a fine, lively, goodhearted boy, whose
greatest pleasure, when he got a few hours of
liberty, was (for he was generally obliged to work
hard with his father, although he was only eleven
years old) to climb the mountain which was most
avoided by the people, because they believed Eubezahl lived there.
Just here, then, he played with his schoolfellows,
and their favourite game was to throw stones, or
small bits of tin, at a particular mark.
Very often the boys when they played this game
found little silver coins in the sand, the value of
which, however, none of them knew ; and this
being the case, they never troubled themselves to
pick them up. But if, by chance, one or other of
them happened to find a small piece of money, the
worth of which was known to them, then there was
great rejoicing amongst them ; but the children
were still at that happy age when avarice was a

98

GREENMANTLE.

stranger to their souls, and they thought no more of

the affair, until at last an old man used to join the
boys at their play, whom, on account of the green
mantle which he wore, they called " Greenmantle."
Greenmantle seemed to be very fond of children ;
he directed their games, or else he would teach
them new ones. He it was who always found the
most silver pennies, which he would divide amongst
the boys, so that they all loved him dearly, and
would like to have known very much where he came
from, and where he went, for each time he disap
peared they were not able to trace him, and in the
same manner he would be quite suddenly in the
midst of them. But as he never answered their
questions upon this subject, it was in time quite for
gotten by the little boys.
But soon that unknown playfellow began to com
mand and be judge over them. If any little quarrels
arose, whichever was wrong might make himself
sure of receiving some hard blows from Green
mantle. Sometimes he would send all away ex
cepting Conrade, whom he appeared to like more
than the rest He would take him by the hand
and lead him through cliffs and rocks, until they
came to terribly steep-looking places ; there he
showed him gold coins in the sand, with which
Conrade played, but always, when he had done
playing, he lost them, and could find them nowhere.
But the wonders which Greenmantle performed
frightened the little boys from their play-place, and
Conrade was the only one who still went there.

GREENMANTLE.

99

Still he was not at all lonely, for Greenmantle

seldom failed to come ; and besides this he began
to talk to him, a thing which he had never done
before. He told him all kinds of pretty stories,
and often gave his little friend pieces of gold ; but
he made him promise to preserve the deepest silence
about his adventures. Conrade thought there could
be nothing wrong in that, and promised Greenmantle that he would tell no one that he met him,
and received such beautiful playthings from him.
And he kept his word faithfully, for if he did not
do so he feared he should lose his dear friend.
Thus summer and autumn passed in happiness ;
but winter came, and deep snow prevented the boy
from meeting his friend upon the mountains.
About this time Conrade' s father fell sick, and
the parson of the village gave little hope that he
would ever be better. Erdmann was too poor to
have a physician, and so he was fast tottering to an
early grave. Of course he could not possibly work
any more, and often there was not even the smallest
piece of bread for either father or son. How easily
could Conrade have put an end to all these suffer
ings, had he known the worth of his golden coins,
and kept no secrets from his father ! When every
thing was spent, the goat had to be sold, the darling
goat which Conrade loved so. How sad the poor
boy was when he had to lead it by a string to the next
village, to sell it there. On his way he met with an
old man, who fell into conversation with him, and
when he heard that Conrade wished to sell the goat,

100

GREENMANTLE.

he gave him a gold piece for it, and was going on

his way with the poor animaL But when the boy
looked at the gold piece in his hand, he shook his
head, and said,
" I have plenty of these things at home, but they
will not buy anything, they are only to play with ;
take it back, and give me some silver money for it."
"Little fool," smiled the old man, "just try;
here is a silver groschen, and here the gold piece ;
run into the village and see for which you can get
the most bread ; I will wait here for you."
Conrade obeyed, left his goat with the stranger,
and ran into the village, where a man was honest
enough to tell him the full worth of the gold piece,
and then he helped Conrade to buy all that he
required for the cottage.
Conrade, well pleased,
hastened back to the old stranger man, but he
was no longer there, and so he ran home to his
father. At the threshold of the hut his darling
goat ran out to meet him.
" A stranger," said his father, "brought her home.
He said he had found her in the wood."
Conrade was not a little astonished at this, and
he related his adventures with the strange old man.
From the food that was bought and the gold that
remained over, the father and son were able to live
for more than a week, and they thanked God that
he had raised up for them such wonderful help.
But the food which Conrade had bought seemed
to increase the sick man's fever, so that his death
was nigh at hand. Some of his acquaintances came

GREENMANTLE.

101

from the village to be near him in his last moments.

Amongst them was the man who had given Conrade
the gold piece. He said to the weeping boy,
" Go out into the fresh air ; thy father will soon
be well again, and, if not, I will be thy father."
Sadly and sorrowfully Conrade went out, and
directed his steps towards the well-known mountain,
where he had so often met with his dear Greenmantle. In some places snow still lay upon the
mountain, while below in the valley spring was
in its prime. But the miserable boy had no eye
now for all the beauties of nature ; he laid himself
down in the soft moss, and wept, quietly but very
bitterly. Just below him the brook was flowing
fast, and the trees were green with the bursting of
the leaves and buds.
"Why dost thou weep so?" said a well-known
voice behind him ; and Conrade joyfully raised his
swollen eyes to the form of his friend.
" Get up," said he, " and tell me your trouble ;
perhaps I can help you."
" Ah !" replied the boy, sighing ; " everything
here is so lovely, and down below there, in our cot
tage, all is so sad. My dear father is dying, and I
shall be alone and desolate in the world."
" Look a moment at this wild rose bush," said
Greenmantle, " how spring has made it fresh and
green again, so that already the first buds are blos
soming ; and then think how withered and naked
it was in the autumn, so that you might fancy it
could never bloom again. Gather the fresh leaves

102

GREENMANTLE.

from this branch, and strew thy father's sick bed

with them ; perhaps it will revive his sunken and
dying strength ; but make haste, the time is short."
Conrade scarcely stayed to thank Greenmantle ; he
filled his cap with the rose leaves, and also carried
as many as he could in his hands. He ran swiftly
down the mountain, and to the cottage, and strewed
the sick man's bed with the fresh leaves so sweet
and green. When he had done so his father opened
his eyes, and gently pressed the boy's hand, as a
sign of the pleasure he felt in the strengthening
perfume. And then there came a visible change
over him, which astonished them all.
On the third day, by leaning on Conrade on one
side, and a neighbour on the other, he was able to
come outside the hut, and sit at the door in the mild
sunshine.
" How has such a wonderful thing happened to
me who thought to die so soon ?" said he, joyfully.
"Perhaps," said the boy, artlessly, "the fresh
rose leaves which I strewed on your bed have helped
to recover you '
"How have you become so clever in the phy
sician's art as to know this, my son V
Conrade was at a loss ; he thought of the promise
which he had made to Greenmantle never to reveal his
secret ; but yet to tell a lie, God be thanked ! he
had never done that.
" He has obtained the rose leaves from where he
got his goat back again," said the neighbour, in a
mocking tone.

GREENMANTLE.

103

" I am sure I don't know the man to whom I

sold the goat ; I have neither seen him before nor
after."
" But you must know," continued the neighbour,
maliciously; "surely it was he who gave you
the fine present of the gold pieces, which you have
hidden in your chamber so secretly."
" How, my child !you have had gold in your pos
session, and yet you have allowed your father to
remain so long in want and suffering ?" asked
Erdmann, reproachfully.
" Father, they are only to play with," whispered
Conrade, timidly ; " but I will tell you all."
And now the boy frankly told him all, although
he did it much against his will, because his friend
Greenmantle had forbidden him.
" It is no one else than the lord of the Giant
Mountains, the much feared Eubezahl," said Erd
mann, joyfully ; " he has for ever put an end to our
misery. But now we will leave this barren village,
and hasten to a more fertile place."
So they fetched the pieces of gold from the hut,
packed up their little property and went into another
part of Silesia, where Erdmann bought a pretty
little cottage, and reared up Conrade to be a brave
industrious man. And in the prosperous latter
years of his life he often thought, with a grateful
heart, of his dear mountain friend, Greenmantle.

% m ^Mtxh
FTEE all these tales you have read,
you can well understand that it was
Kubezahl's maxim to punish the
wicked, and only bestow help and
happiness on good men. He sought mostly for very
bad or very good characters, but he had not always
reparation at hand, when he had done harm through
tricks. Sometimes, quite without reason, he would
assume the form of all kinds of strange and horrible
animals, and so frighten women on their way to
market. Sometimes he would lame the feet of
travellers' horses, break a wheel, or throw a piece of
rock in the way, over which they could not cross
without a great deal of trouble. When they were
provoked to anger by these vicious tricks, he
punished them by throwing stones in showers after
them, till they had passed the boundaries of hia
kingdom, or perhaps he sent a swarm of bees, as
thick as a cloud, which so terrified the poor way
farer, that he left the mountain half dead. He only
fell into conversation with very few people, and they
had to be careful not to put too much trust in him.
There is a story told of an old shepherd's adventure

THE OLD SHEPHERD.

105

with the gnome, which well illustrates his selfish

ness and cruelty. The mountain spirit often con
versed with this manyes, he had even formed a
sort of friendship with him, and the shepherd had
related to him the story of his simple life.
To thank him for his tale, Rubezahl allowed him
to lead his flock to the very hedge surrounding his
garden, which was a thing no one else ever dared to
do. But being too sure of the capricious spirit's
favour, he once drove his sheep so near the hedge,
that one of them, tempted by the delicious odour of
the turnips, grazed, mightily contented, on the for
bidden ground.
At this Eubezahl was'so enraged that he frightened
the animals by a terrible noise, and they ran pellmell down the mountain, and most of the poor
animals were either lost or greatly injured. Thus
all the poor old shepherd's sole property was de
stroyed in his misery, and he killed himself.

fitb^l pirates an gporiwtus.

NE day Eubezahl was lying in the
warm sunshine. He had taken the
form of a woodcutter, so that he could
have a joke with travellers, for his
time lay heavy on his hands, as it does with mortals
who have nothing to do. Presently a physician
from Schmiedeberg came past, in order to botanize
upon the mountain. Eubezahl was by his side in a
moment, offering to carry the bundle of plants which
the weary mountaineer had collected.
He soon discovered that the physician was a
swaggering quack doctor. This man told him of the
many wonderful cures he had effected, and of his
incomparable skill. But what .most delighted the
gnome was to hear how many errors the honourable
doctor made, and the pretended woodcutter cor
rected him, and told him many other secrets of herbs
which he did not know. This confused the thick
headed quack so much, that at last he said, in
a contemptuous tone, " Shoemaker, stick to thy
last."
Eubezahl was still more amused at the doctor's
anger, and only continued very quietly to tell him

BUBEZAHL PUNISHES AN IGNORAMUS.

107

more secrets, so that he completely stopped the poor

man's boasting quack stories.
" If you are so wonderfully knowing about plants
and herbs, even from the cedar, which grows on
Lebanon, to the hyssop," said the quack, " perhaps,
all-wise woodcutter, you can tell me which was first
in the world, the acorn or the tree 1 "
The spirit replied, laughing,
" Why, certainly the acorn-tree, the oak ; for the
acorn has to grow upon the tree."
" Now see what a fool you are ! " said the physi
cian, mockingly ; " how could the first tree come
then 1 because the tree grows from the seed con
tained in the acorn."
Then the woodcutter replied,
" You have asked me a very difficult question ;
such depth of knowledge is too much for me. All
that I know my mother has taught me. But per
haps you can give me some advice. I have a bad
fever, and have used all kinds of medicines in vain
for it. Only see how I shiver with fever."
Then the gnome pretended to shiver and shake
and knocked his knees together, and he held his
breath, by which means he became quite blue in the
face. The quack said,
" Ah, my friend, you are very ill ; it is a very
fortunate thing that you have met with me. I am
the right man. I will cure you in the twinkling of
an eye."
He opened his case, from which he took some
drugs ; then he threw in some liquids, and mixed
H 2

108

BUBEZAHL PUNISHES AN IGNORAMUS.

them all mp together. The mountain spirit shud

dered when he thought that he should have to
swallow this vile, disgusting stuff. Then the quack
doctor took a large box filled with pills, for which
he had no special name, only calling them a uni
versal cure for gout, headache, sore throat, and all
kinds of fevers. He told the woodcutter that he
must take a dozen of them every hour, and a spoonful
of the medicine, and if he did so, he would be quite
well in three days, and for all this he was only to
give him a florin.
" You are certainly a most wise and clever gentle
man," said the woodcutter, " and I will do as you
advise me, but you must do me the favour to answer
me one question which I will put to you. To
whom does the ground on which we are standing
belongto the King of Bohemia or to the lord of
the Giant Mountains V (Thus he always called
himself, for of course the nickname of Eubezahl
was disagreeable to him, and when he heard it, made
him very angry.)
The quack did not consider long. "Why, to
whom but the King of Bohemia, for Eubezahl
is only a creation of the brain made to terrify
children."
But scarcely were these words out of his mouth,
when the woodcutter was changed into a gigantic,
terrible figure, who looked at the poor doctor with
eyes like flames of fire.
" I will show you," thundered he, " that the
lord of the mountains is no creation of the brain to

RUBEZAHL PUNISHES AN IGNORAMUS.

109

frighten children ; you yourself shall prove that.

You ignorant quack, you shall remember me in
such a manner that you will never again question
my real existence. You shall yourself swallow the
beautiful, wonderful pills, and the hellish mixture
too, with which you wanted to cure my supposed
fever. You shall not stir from this place until you
have swallowed every drop of your poison. The
sick people in the village will thank me for this.
Now, my friend, swallow it, quick ! "
The quack begged and implored in vain. At
last, exhibiting great emotions of terror, he seized
the glass, and took a mighty gulp. Bitter tears
started from his eyes, and sweat was upon his fore
head ; but the terrible spirit stood beside him,
with raised arm, threatening to throw him to the
ground if he demurred. When, after a dreadful
struggle, the medicine was down, either for good
or for evil, it came to the pills' turn, at which
the quack made more dismal grimaces than at the
medicine, " It will be my death," groaned he. " I
shall die of the horrible things."
But the spirit jokingly reminded him how won
derfully healing these pills were ; what cures he
had already wrought with them, and told him that he
should have more faith in his own profession. Thirty
pills had the poor man already disposed of ; then he
threw himself despairingly on the ground, and said,
" Eather kill me, thou terrible spirit ; there can
be no more bitter death than to die by these
poisonous pills."

110

BUBEZAHL PUNISHES AN IGNORAMUS.

" Then mind and remember that," said Eubezahl,

and gave the doctor, who lay upon the ground, a
kick; from thence he rolled right down the'
mountain, bruised with the stones, and wounded
against the roots of trees.
Happily he at last
reached terra firma, but so bruised and knocked
about, that for many weeks he was not able to
leave his bed. He had become so suspicious that
he always feared Eubezahl was behind him when
he was called to a patient, and he took mighty good
care never to use his old cures again.
"Who knows," say the people, " but that that was
the physician who has now become so celebrated as
the inventor of the homoeopathic cure V

% iotmug ia Ifrrlsbaft.
EICH countess, who used to spend
her 'winter in Breslau and the sum
mer in some pleasant watering-place,
intended, on one occasion, to pass that
time in Karlsbad, because she needed the baths
there, and her daughters the bath company. They
always travelled in such haste that they rested
neither day nor night, because they wanted to
enjoy all the balls, promenades, music, and se
renades. To Karlsbad, then, they were travelling,
and at sunset they arrived at the Giant Mountains.
As it was a beautiful warm summer's evening and
not a breath stirring, they resolved to travel all the
sweet starlight and moonlight night. The carriage
was so conveniently made, and moved so smoothly
along the mountains, that mother and daughters
and lady's maid all slept very cosily.
John, alone, who sat behind the postillion on the
coach-box, could not sleep on account of his dan
gerous position, and even had that not deterred him,
he could not have done so from terror, for all the
wonderful stories of Eubezahl, the spirit of the
mountains, would come into his thoughts, and he

112

THE JOURNEY TO KARLSBAD.

deeply bemoaned the bold resolution of bis mistress

to cross tbe fearful mountain spirit's dominions
at dead of nigbt. How mucb rather would he have
been at home in Breslau, where he had nothing to
fear from such mighty and powerful ghosts. He
kept casting his eyes around him, and when they
fell on any object, such as a tree or a shrub, he
trembled like a leaf in the wind.
He asked the
postillion more than once whether there was any
thing to be afraid of in this part of the mountain,
but yet he could not quiet himself even when
assured that there was indeed nothing to fear.
But his apprehensions soon became real terror,
when the postillion suddenly pulled up the horses,
muttering a curse between his teeth.
About ten
steps from them stood a supernaturally tall figure,
with a long white neck, but without a head. This
frightful apparition stood still for a moment when
the coachman stopped his horses, but immediately
he smacked his whip it rushed forward.
" Friend, what is that?" shrieked John, in the
greatest terror.
" Be quiet," said the postillion in a low voice,
" or we shall irritate the ghost."
But the affrighted servant could no longer sit on
the box, where he thought he was most open to
danger, so he got down and knocked violently at the
carriage window. " If," thought he, "the countess
had the foolish inclination to travel here in the
night, of course she must know how to get out of
this danger."

THE JOURNEY TO KARLSBAD.

113

The ladies, rousing themselves very unwillingly

from their sweet slumbers, asked what was the
matter.
" Oh, your graces, there goes a thing without a
head !" stammered out the man, and his teeth
chattered.
" And why do you wake me for that, you sim
pleton 1 as though one could not see that any day
in and out of Breslau." And she laughed at her
own wit, but the two young ladies could not join
in it, for they immediately remembered the horrible
tales about Eubezahl, and they cried with one
voice,
" That must be the mountain spirit, mamma ;
remember, we are right in the heart of the Giant
Mountains."
But ghosts did not seem much to trouble the
countess, for she smiled at her daughters' terror,
and jested about the ghost stories, which she called
the imagination of an overheated brain, but she was
suddenly interrupted in the middle of her speech,
for the black-mantled figure, who had for a moment
disappeared, approached, and was again visible in the
clear moonlight.
A scream of terror was heard in the carriage, and
the silk curtains were hastily drawn before the
windows.
But the dreadful unknown did not
molest the ladies ; he merely contented himself with
knocking the servant from the coach-box, and cried
to the stunned postillion, between some sharp boxes
on the ear, " Take that for driving so near my

114

THE JOURNEY TO KARLSBAD.

hedges. The beasts and traps belong to me now."

So saying, the headless monster got on the saddle,
whipped the horses, and flew so rapidly over brake
and briar, that the fearful cries of the women could
not be heard for the rattling of the wheels. All at
once the number of this nocturnal travelling com
pany was increased, for a rider was now seen
galloping by the driver, who never seemed to remark
that his companion had no head ; and this figure kept
riding close by the carriage, as though it belonged
to him.
This new companion did not seem pleasing to
the black mantle ; he turned the horses' heads in
another directionnow leftthen right ; yet he
could not rid himself of his mysterious comrade.
But he became still more terrified when he dis
covered that the stranger's horse had only three legs,
and yet the creature galloped along at intense speed.
" Oh, that must be the real Eubezahl," sighed he,
in a great fright. " My part will soon be played
out now he has joined us."
Suddenly the rider galloped his three-legged horse
close up to the figure, and asked him familiarly,
" Friend without a head, which way art thou
going?"
" Always to follow my nose," said he, with a sorry
attempt to be bold.
Immediately the horseman seized the bridle, and
cried out,
" Hold ! my comrade !" He took him by the
neck and threw him so violently on the ground that

THE JOURNEY TO KARLSBAD.

115

all his bones cracked. The headless monster had,

as will now be seen, flesh and bone like any other
man, and groaned terribly when the horseman tore
off his mask. He saw now that he was in the hands
of the powerful mountain spirit, whom he had him
self pretended to be, and he knew he should be com
pelled to give himself up either to his mercy or to
the contrary, even as Eubezahl pleased.
It was a good thing that he was humble, for the
gnome was so enraged that he would certainly have
killed him, had he ventured to speak a word.
" Sit up," commanded the spirit, " and do what
I shall tell you."
Then, in a moment, putting on his horse's fourth
leg, and fastening it to the ribs, he approached the
carriage door, to render himself polite to the ladies.
But they lay quite stunned and senseless on the
cushions, and gave no signs of life. The horseman
fetched some clear water from a neighbouring brook,
and sprinkled it over their faces. This brought
them back to consciousness. It calmed them very
much to see such a nice-looking man near them,
who would protect them ; and they felt free from
all anxiety when he said,
" I am extremely sorry for you, ladies. You
have been frightened by a masked villain, who no
doubt intended to rob you ; but you are now per
fectly safe. I am the overseer of the Mountain
Valley ; will you permit me to conduct you to my
house, which is not far off i"
The ladies joyfully accepted the friendly invitation.

116

THE JOURNEY TO KARLSBAD.

Meantime, the overseer rode up to the bewildered

postillion, ordered him to drive first to the left and
afterwards to the right ; he also caught two or three
bats, to whom he seemed to speak a few words, and
then let them fly.
The journey may have continued in this way for
about an hour, when they saw a gleam of light in
the distance, and then four horsemen with torches
c one to seek their master. The countess was much
pleased at this, and begged the Herr Von Eiesenthal
to send some of his people to seek for their poor
servant John, who had been left behind. This he
immediately did. Soon the carriage drove over a
drawbridge, through an ancient gateway, and then
stopped before a briUiantly lighted castle. The horse
man descended from his steed, and, offering his arm to
the lady, he led them all three into a splendid saloon,
where a large company was assembled. The young
ladies were inconsolable at having to go in their
crumpled travelling dresses into such a glittering
circle. The master of the house, remarking their
embarrassment, caused them to be led into a room
where there was everything necessary for the toilet.
Six long candles burned before a large mirror
beautiful soap, perfumed waters, oils, and essences
for the hair, and all such articles lay upon a costly
washing-stand, and on a table were the finest Paris
gloves and shoes.
The young ladies had never met with a more
agreeable adventure. The attentive host procured
a physician for them, who examined into the state of

THE JOURNEY TO KARLSBAD.

117

their health, after such a great fright, and, with an

important face, felt the countess's pulse. After long
deliberation, he said, with a shake of the head, that
he should dread the worst consequences from such
an unusual agitation, if the ladies did not consent to
be bled. The countess felt her life at stake, and so
she soon submitted ; but the young ladies did not
like it, and it required their mother to command
them before they would consent.
The physician took no notice of the unwillingness
of the young ladies, and he rendered them quite
incapable of going to a ball for a week to come.
This operation performed, they returned to the
saloon, where a princely repast was spread. The
table almost broke beneath its load of silver; the
most costly meat, the rarest wines, and fruits, which
belonged quite to other times of the year, were all
there. When the beautiful dessert was placed, the
countess and her daughters were greatly astonished
to see the whole of their adventure represented in
sugar. Wondering at the short time which this
ornament had taken to make, and the minuteness of
the workmanship, the countess asked her neighbour,
who was a Bohemian count, what grand gala day
was being celebrated, and received for answer that
the guests had merely met by accident, and that it
was only a little friendly meal, such as their enter
tainer was accustomed to have every day.
This information increased the ladies' pleasure at
finding themselves in such good company, and the
countess was only astonished that she had never

118

THE JOURNET TO KARLSBAD.

before seen; or heard in Breslau of this rich and hos

pitable man. She thought over all the noble German
families ; yet, think as she would, no family of
Eiesenthal could she remember. Her train of
thought was interrupted by every one beginning to
relate stories of Rubezahl, and the countess took
the opportunity of expressing her doubts con
cerning the real existence of the mountain spirit,
interspersing what she said with many witty
remarks.
" My own adventure is the best proof of what all
these fables are," said she, " and that the mountain
spirit only dwells in the imagination of terrified
fools. If he had truly dwelt here in the mountains,
would he have calmly permitted this villain to do
such mischief in his name 1 It would be a taint on
the poor spirit's honour ; for without the brave
help of Herr Von Eiesenthal, the insolent man.
would have robbed and perhaps murdered us."
The host mildly said that he did not think the
mountain spirit was a nonentity. But he was in
terrupted by the entrance of John, who began to be
quite courageous again when he found himself in
such safe company. He had brought with him, in
great triumph, the black mantle's head, who had
carried that article under his arm during his
mummery, and by some accident had lost it. To
the great amusement of the guests, it was found to
be only a scooped-out pumpkin, filled with sand and
stones ; outside was fixed a wooden nose and a long
flaxen beard, and this made a most terrific-looking
human countenance.

THE JOURNEY TO KARLSBAD.

119

After passing the night in the softest of down

beds, the ladies, on the following morning, left the
hospitable castle, perfectly enchanted with the re
ception they had met with. Herr Von Riesenthal,
after he had in vain tried to make his guests remain
another day, accompanied them to the bounds of
his dominions, and the ladies were obliged to promise
that they would pay him another visit on their
return. When the gnome (for of course it was he)
was back again in his castle, the poor wretch who
had played his part in such an unlucky manner was
brought before him.
" Miserable creature," thundered the spirit, " how
did you dare to play such a trick within my realm ]
You shall repent of this your whole life long. Who
are you, and what made you play the ghost in the
mountain 1 "
" Great prince of the Giant Mountains, forgive,"
said the cunning fellow. " I knew not the law
which forbade me to assume your form. I can tell
you that this same thing very often happens. Some
times they represent you at masked balls, with a
head cut out of a pumpkin; sometimes you are cut out
of a cocoa-nut shell, or they mould you in plaster of
Paris, and sell you. But now I know that you do
not approve of it, it shall never happen again ; only
forgive me this time, powerful spirit. I am by
profession a purse-maker, but it is a miserable trade.
How many purses have I made, whilst mine re
mained quite empty; although the people said I
was a lucky hand, for in the purses that I made the
money always stayed longer than in those made by

120

THE JOUENET TO KARLSBAD.

many others. But this is the trick of it. I made

purses of leather ; and leathern purses are always
better than netted silk ones. Why ? Now see :
leathern purses are generally bought by labourers
and poor tradesmen, who, of course, are no spend
thrifts ; but rich people always have fine silk purses,
and so it is no wonder that the money does not re
main there long, for there is always some reason
why it runs out, although much be put in."
" Well, what more 1 " said Rubezahl, who could
not conceal that he was amused at the man.
" Now there came to be want and famine in the
land ; I was forced to give good merchandize for bad
or little money, so I took to begging, and got thrown
into prison. When I again had my liberty, no ono
would give me any work, and I wandered into the
wide world. In my travels I met with an old
fellow-workman, who appeared in very good con
dition, and rode upon a fine horse.
" ' Ah, ah, Franz ! ' laughed he, " not got any
farther in the world 1 Come with me ; I will teach
you always to have your purse full of gold.'
" This was just what I wanted, and I never
troubled myself whether it was an honourable trade
he meant. Nor was it so ; he belonged to a gang
which coined false money. I soon became as clever
as they were in the art ; but one day we were seized,
and condemned to pass our lives in prison. There
I lived a long but not a pleasant time, until at last a
recruiting officer came, and all the prisoners were
made soldiers, for there was war in the country. I

THE JOURNEY TO KARLSBAD.

121

.was pleased enough with the change, but I again

met with misfortune. Once when I was out on a
foraging expedition, I carried my errand too far,
and not only cleared out granaries and barns, but
also trunks and chests. I was for this obliged to
run the gauntlet, and was hunted out of the army,
in which I could so easily have made my fortune.
Now I had nothing but to return to my old trade ;
but as I could buy no leather, I picked a pocket of
a leathern purse ; in this I found some money, but
that was not my fault. I could not, of course, put the
money back without danger, and so I was compelled
to keep it. This trade being profitable I Continued
it. I often found old acquaintances amongst the
money, namely, our false coins, and people still cheat
one another with them ; but we had had our punish
ment for them. I collected tools and measures, and
for a while made a very good business ; but mis
fortunes never come singly, and it seemed as though
I were never to be right. In Liegnitz I got the
purse of a rich grocer ; it was well filled, but that
was just the misfortune, for it was so heavy that it
slipped even from my well-skilled hands ; so I was
seized and brought up as a pickpocket, but I said I
was of a learned profession, and by deceit and certifi
cates sought to get free. Yet the gentlemen of the
court would not be persuaded. I was again im
prisoned, but I watched my opportunity, and got
free. Soon I became hungry, and not liking that, I
tried my begging again, but it would not do ; the
police in Great Glogau stopped me, and for two
I

122

THE JOURNEY TO KARLSBAD.

days I was again obliged to do nothing. From that

time I forsook towns and enjoyed the country air,
which suited me better. There I met the countess,
who had her carriage broken ; but when it was
mended they were to start for Karlsbad.
The
servant was terrified at the idea of crossing the
Giant Mountains where the powerful spirit dwelt by
night. It occurred to me that I might take advan
tage of his cowardice and play the part of a ghost.
I borrowed the black cloak from the sexton, and
a pumpkin, which stood on the top of his press,
served me for a head, which I could take on
and off at pleasure, and this, I thought, would
frighten the travellers still more. Had the thing
succeeded, I should have driven the ladies into the
dark, deep forest, and compelled them to give me
up their money and valuables, but I would have
done them no greater harm. To speak truly, sir, I
was never much afraid of you, for the world is so
enlightened now that children scarcely believe any
more about you, and you will soon be quite for
gotten. I thought you would like to be brought
again to remembrance, and therefore do not be
unmerciful to me. Only let me have food and a
drink from your beer cask ; you might make me an
honest and active servant ; or give me, like that
hungry young artizan, a handful of sloes from your
garden. The poor creature did indeed bite two of
his front teeth out in trying to eat your fruit, but
you changed the sloes into real gold. Perhaps it
would be agreeable to you to shoot me with a brace

THE JOURNEY TO KARLSBAD.

123

of bullets, like the Prague student, when every ball

was made of gold ; or, if you would inflict a good
punishment for my sin, do with me as with that
shoemaker whom you belaboured with a golden
measure, and then gave it him as a remembrance.
The shoemaker still relates this story at
"
"Rascal!" said Eubezahl. "I have patiently
heard your tale to the end, but now run as fast as
your legs can carry you. You will have your punish
ment without my giving it you."
The thief obeyed the spirit's angry command with
great pleasure, praising to himself his eloquence,
which this time had got him scatheless out of his
disagreeable situation. He ran so fast to get out of
Rubezahl's way, that he forgot in his haste the
sexton's black mantle. But fast as he ran he did
not seem to move from the place, for the same rocks
and trees always surrounded him, and only Herr
Von Riesenthal's castle had disappeared.
Quite exhausted with his fruitless endeavours to
leave the place, he at last sank down under a tree,
and fell fast asleep. After some hours he awoke,
and wondered to see intense darkness surrounding
him, and that he neither heard the sighing of the
wind, nor saw a star in the heavens. He sprang up,
and was not a little frightened when he heard the
clanking of chains, which he found encumbered his
own body. Several hours passed in fearful expecta
tion, when he saw a gleam of light through the
grating of a small window. Then all at once he dis
covered that he was again in the prison from which
i 2

124

THE JOCRNEY TO KARLSBAD.

he had last escaped. No one came to see after the

prisoner, or bring him food ; and he was beginning
to get very hungry ; he knocked tremblingly with
his chains against the strongly barred door. It was
long before the gaoler could summon courage to
enter the cell which had been empty for many weeks.
He thought there must be a hobgoblin there, and
he opened the door with the greatest caution and fear,
to find out the cause of the unusual noise. At first he
shrank back from the figure which he saw moving
about in the dark chamber ; but when he perceived
that it was his escaped prisoner, he was still more
surprised, for he could not understand how he could
be again in his old quarters. Did he come through
the door, or the grated window ? Perhaps he volun
tarily came there, for he might possess the power of
coming in and going out, and pulling his chains
on and off at pleasure.
As it remained incomprehensible how the sly
thief had done the trick, they at last believed he
had supernatural power. The gentlemen in Liegnitz
would send for him to drag carts and carriages, to
which he was fastened with chains, expecting to see
him deliver himself when he wished ; but it was re
marked with astonishment that he never made use
of his secret power to the end of his days.
. In the meantime the countess and her daughters
had arrived safely in Karlsbad. She immediately
sent for the bath physician to examine into the
state of her health. The same doctor entered,
whose acquaintance she had made at Herr Yon
Kiesenthal's castle, and who had bled them.

THE JOURNEY TO KARLSBAD.

125

" Ah, welcome !" cried mother and daughters ;

" we supposed you still with Herr Von Eiesenthal,
and now you are here. Why did you not tell us that
you were the doctor here."
"Yes, doctor!" cried the two beautiful girls ;
" you have bled us even to the very veins in our
feet ; we are obliged to sit quiet, for we cannot dance
a step."
The physician started. " Ladies," said he, " you
mistake. I have never had the honour of seeing you
before, neither do I leave this place during the
season, and amongst all my acquaintances I do not
know a Herr Von Eiesenthal."
The countess laughed at this dissimulation, as
she called it, and thought it was delicacy on the
part of the doctor in not wishing to be paid for the
services which he had already rendered them. So
she took a golden casket from her trunk, and
presented it to the doctor. He received it as pay
ment before hand for the advice he should give the
countess, and did not again contradict her, because
he believed that sick people suffer such fancies, and
that her daughters agreed with her from respect to
their mother.
Soon jt was rumoured all over the place that the
countess was either mad or a sorceress, for the
physician had told his patients, on his morning
round, this little adventure of his, and all were
curious to see the strange ladies.
The first time that the countess entered the Kursaal
with her daughters, a most wonderful sight met her
gaze, for she saw exactly the same company to which

126

THE JOURNEY TO KARLSBAD.

she had been introduced by Herr Von Biesenthal.

She was pleased to meet with such agreeable com
pany at once, and addressed them without further
ceremony. But she felt repulsed by the cold recep
tion which the ladies and gentlemen gave her ; they
who had recently shown her so much kindness and
attention. At last she thought the whole must be
a concerted joke, that Herr Von Eiesenthal had a
hand in it, and that by his sudden appearance
amongst them he would put an end to the trick.
She inquired daily for him, and related to many
newly-arrived guests her adventure in the Giant
Mountains, through which she had made so many
agreeable friends. All agreed that the countess was
a beautiful and amiable lady, and was only mad
upon the subject of her supposed adventure. They
avoided her when she spoke of this, and the
countess, who thought the joke had gone too far,
spoke no more about it. Then the doctor praised
the wondrous healing virtues of the waters, because
they had so completely cured the lady.
"When she was quite well, and the young ladies
had been admired enough, they took their way back
to Breslau. Intentionally they went by way of the
Giant Mountains, in order to keep their promise
with the hospitable overseer, and at the same time
to have the enigma solved by him, why the guests
would not acknowledge their first interview.
But no one knew how to direct them to Herr Von
Biesenthal's castle, neither was his name known on
this or on the other side of the mountain.

THE JOURNEY TO KARLSBAD.

127

By this time the countess was convinced that the

unknown, who had been so kind to them, was no
other than Eubezahl, the mountain spirit. She had
all reason to be content with the vengeance he had
taken to punish her disbelief in his existence, and
willingly pardoned him the trick with the people
at the baths, which was now quite comprehensible
and clear to her.

W$t Inigjjt of fiu|foc|.

3ROM the beautiful valley which forms
the background to the Silesian Giant
Mountains, rise two granite cones,
which are known by the name of the
" Falcon Mountains." On one of them there stood
in the twelfth century a proud castle, in which there
dwelt a powerful robber named Protzco ; he was
also called the " mountain falcon." He was a wild
sort of man, much feared in the neighbourhood.
He spent all the money which he had stolen from
travellers and merchants in gaming and drinking
with his boon companions, and so he led a jovial
life in his stronghold. One evening he sat in a
high chamber of his castle, with the cup of wine
standing untasted before him ; his comrades mocked
him, but a wild, severe glance from the knight
silenced them.
Suddenly a servant entered the room, and in
formed them that on the road to Schmiedeberg
there was a heavily laden waggon containing valuable
merchandize.
With a wild shout the robbers
sprang up from the table and seized their swords ;
only Protzco did not move, and his companions,

ftbe fungus of Jisbbarb.

THE KNIGHT OF FISCHBACH.

129

rushing forth into the dark night, left him alone.

He was seldom the last at such freaks as these, but
this was the day on which his gentle mother died,
and for this reason there came no jest from the
knight's lips, and no wine touched them, while
his sword, which was generally covered with blood,
lay quietly in its sheath. Well, he was left alone,
and he walked up and down the quiet chamber with
heavy strides. At last he opened the window, and
leaning out, looked into the dark night. He listened
to the stamping of the horses and the wild calls of
his comrades, and now and then he heard shrieks
of terror, which echoed curiously through the dark
night air.
" Saddle my horse !" he cried, ran
down into the courtyard, seized his sword, and in a
few moments he was on his black charger, rushing
down the steep descent from the Falcon Moun
tains. He hastened like a storm-cloud towards the
robbers, and the report of his gun shot through the
air. " Give the prisoners their liberty !" cried he,
as he saw a man bound between two of his com
panions ; " let them go their way, or, by my beard,
you shall feel the power of my arm." The robbers
murmured, but Protzco was their most powerful
companion, and his strong castle their safest refuge.
Therefore they resolved to give in to his odd
humour, and so they set the merchant at liberty.
But the man sank to the ground, for, in bravely
opposing them, he had received a deep wound upon
his neck, and his body was covered with blood.
Protzco bent down to look at him, and an expres-

130

THE KNIGHT OP FISCHBACH.

eion of compassion crossed his face. " Take the

poor man in your arms up to my castle ; he must be
nursed and attended to. Drag up the waggon also ;
but whoever lays hands on this man's goods, will
have to answer for it to me," cried he in a loud
tone.
" The falcon is changed into the mouse," sneered
the robbers in an under-tone, but none ventured to
contradict the angry Protzco, who walked gloomily
and steadily before the procession towards his castle.
There they tended the stranger merchant as well as
could be ; his horses were taken care of, and the
chests of merchandize which he had with him were
guarded by the lord of the castle himself.
Weeks elapsed before the sick man recovered
and was able to continue his journey. With many
thanks he at last separated from his kind friend,
who not only returned him his goods safe and un
injured, but abo gave him two of his most powerful
horses, in order that he might the more speedily
finish his journey.
But the companions of the robber were very much
discontented with this untimely generosity, and
grumbled at losing so rich a prize. And when, soon
after, Duke Folko sent out his men to take the robber
knight, they scandalously betrayed him to lie
officers, who ransacked the castle of Falconberg,
and the knight himself only escaped from them with
great trouble.
Forsaken and betrayed by his faithless friends, the
fugitive wandered about the whole night, when

THE KNIGHT OP FISCHBACH.

131

suddenly he perceived that very merchant to whom

he had been so kind standing in a fisherman's dress
before him . " Come with me into my poor hut, good
knight," said he kindly to Protzco, "you will find
safety and shelter there. Through many misfortunes
I have become very poor, and now I dwell here
quiet and solitary as a fisherman ; here, no one will
think of seeking the brave knight of Falconberg,
and I shall thus be able to repay you in part for all
the kindness you showed me."
Protzco did not refuse this offer ; his host enter
tained him hospitably with meat and drink ; but the
next morning, when the knight awoke, the fisher
man had disappeared, leaving to his guest all his
fishing tackle. By means of this Protzco earned his
living. Meanwhile the duke's servants destroyed
bis castle, and then left it.
After some time the knight was able to come out
from his hiding-place, and thus he lived for a long
time. He yearned for his former mode of living ;
and though he abominated the useless and wicked
life which he had led, still he was troubled to have
lost his good sword, and instead of it to hold a fish
ing rod.
Sadly he dipped his line into the clear little brook
which flowed not far from his hut ; it was again the
anniversary of the day on which his mother had
died, and weary thoughts oppressed Protzco's heart.
All at once a fish of most extraordinary size caught
hold of his hook, and he had the greatest difficulty
to bring it to land. He was obliged to wade deeply

132

THE KNIGHT OF FISCHBAOH.

into the brook to disengage its fangs, but lo ! the

fish was made of rich pure gold, and for the first
time it became clear to the knight that that mer
chant to whom he had once shown compassion was
no other than the powerful spirit of the Giant
Mountains, Eubezahl.
Now he was again rich. He gathered some fol
lowers together, and in the poorly populated eastern
mountain valleys he built a new castle, in the same
place where his refuge, the fisherman's little hut,
had stood. Very soon in the middle of the wood
the knight's castle reared its head ; he built thick
walls and a high tower to it, and gave it, in grateful
remembrance of the means by which he had been
enabled to erect it, the name of " Fischbach" (or
Fish-brook). Then he built a village ; and so at
last, by the aid of the mountain spirit, there stood
the noble castle and the lovely village, which is
even now one of the most celebrated and beautiful
spots of the mountain valley. It is visited by many
travellers, and belongs to one of the most honour
able and universally beloved of noble families.

% kp $M.
NATUEALIST was once wandering
over the dark blue chain of the
Giant Mountains, looking earnestly
for the hundreds and thousands of
small wonders which bloom and grow in the world
of plants, and knocking at rocks for minerals. He
had his botany cases hanging over his shoulder ;
they were heavy, and the wayfarer appeared to be
very much tired.
" Now if I could only be in Schmiedeberg by
making one step," said he, half aloud ; " for were I
there, I could dig and spread out the plants which
I have found, and then place them among my other
curious specimens." But before he could reach
Schmiedeberg the botanist had still to walk two long
hours, and already the sun was very low.
The traveller was just gathering new strength to
proceed, when suddenly the bent form of an old
man appeared among the bushes, carrying apparently,
with great difficulty, a heavy bundle of wood.
" Old man," said the strong healthy young one,
" that is hard work for you ; have you no one at
home who can do it for you 1 "

134

THE MAGIC STICK.

The person thus addressed turned his astonished

face to the young man, displaying a pair of clear
sparkling eyes, and a sharp aquiline nose, and
replied,
" Who can carry it home for me 1 I have neither
wife, child, nor any other friend or relation."
" Then give it to me," said the botanist, kindly ;
"that is nothing for my shoulders to carry." So
saying, he took the weight from the man, and
carried it on his back along with his case of plants,
a good way down the mountain.
" Going back again ! oh, dear, my poor plants !"
the young man said softly to himself, but at the
same time walking at a good pace. He lost a whole
half-hour through his goodness, but they at last
reached the cottage. The young man quickly
threw down the bundle of wood on the floor, and
bid the old man good night ; but he called after
him to stop him.
" How much farther have you to go to-night ?"
asked he.
" Oh, to Schmiedeberg ; there I have friends,
and there I can arrange my plants.
" Oh, they will do very well till the morning ;
remain here, kind sir, and see the sun rise ; to
morrow will be a splendid day."
"But only think, I have already been many
days from home, and all my money is spent. I could
not pay my lodging even for one night. My friends
will give me more, though they always grumble that
my travels cost me so much. What can I do, then t

THE MAGIC STICK.

135

Had I any money, I should not leave you empty

handed, my good old man."
"Then a good journey to you, and as you have
such a long way to go, take a stick from the
bundle of wood which you have carried so far for
me; it will aid you in climbing."
The wanderer laughingly accepted the old man's
present, for he was too kind-hearted to pain him
by a refusal. He pushed back his cap, and took
the stick to continue his way. Butthere he stood,
already in the very middle of the town, by the
ancient town hall, knocking at the door of his
friend's house. He thought he was in a dream ; he
struck hia forehead, but he was wide awake ; the
plant cases hung heavily on his shoulders, and in
his hand he held the stick which the old man had
given him.
" My absence of mind has played me a trick,
and I have come all the way without noticing,"
thought he, as he entered the house. The plants
were dried and arranged, the mosses were spread
out, with their respective names written beneath
them. He thought no more of his adventure, and
the stick lay unnoticed in a corner. Thus some
time passed ; but before long the desire for another
journey entered his mind.
" Ah !" thought he, " could I only go a long way
in the world ; but I must remain here, and take a
situation. If I had a handful of nice gold, nothing
should keep me from taking my travelling staff in
my hand, and setting out."

136

THE MAGIC STICK.

" When God will us great favour show,
He sends us o'er the wide wide world,
"Where we may all his wonders view,
In mountain, valley, stream, and field."

And sadly he took the stick from its corner,

turned it slowly in his hands, and thought how
beautiful it would be now, to wander through the
Alps to Trieste. The thought had scarcely passed
his mind, when he stood on the highest of the
mountains ; it was spring time, and there was the
Adriatic Sea, in all its beauty and glory, and at his
feet the great and beautiful city.
With eyes full of delight, he watched the sunset,
and then he danced for joy. A glance at the tough
unsightly stick explained to him the wonder.
The naturalist now had his greatest wish fulfilled,
and the world is indebted to him for many curious
botanical discoveries.
But at last he returned to his native country, a
tired old man, and went up to the Giant Moun
tains, there to lay down the wonderful stick.
If one could only find it !

Infagaljl attir f&e fging feasant.

,HE mountain sprite

Crept down one night,
Below into the valley bright ;
Now in his way
There chanced to stray
A peasant, who his path did stay.

Then this man asked,

" Pray have you passed
Sprite Eubezahl upon the waste ? "
" No, no," replied
The gnome with pride,
And he took an angry stride.

"Who? Eubezahl?
Now please reveal,
Is that a man or an eel ? "
" Not know the sprite,
And his beard white ?
All the world knows the fairy wight !
J

138

EDBEZAHL AND THE LYING PEASANT.

" And oft this gnome

Will leave hia home
On the mountains high to roam."
Then the peasant told
The legends old
Of the mountain spirit bold.

" But in your ear,

This mountaineer
Has learnt, at last, what 'tis to fear ;
His fiery steed,
Not taking heed,
Ean right against me in his speed.

" Trembling with fright,

Down fell the sprite,
Hey ! presto ! then I held him tight,
And my rosary
Of beads so gay,
I took out to send him away.

On that he gazed,
And sore amazed,
The demon .fledmay Heaven be praised.
Pumpkin grower !
Turnip sower !
Only over fools thou'st power!

RUBKZAHL AND THE LYING PEASANT.

139

" When thus I cried,

Then with a stride
The spirit 'mid the rooks did glide.
Pale turned the moon
As he went down,
The mountains shook with fearful groan.

" And through the gloom

I've bravely come,
And now I'm hastening to my home."
In this wise,
The man replies,
Yet knowing all his words were lies.

With angry frown,

And awful tone,
The sprite then spoke, " Is your tale done ?
Well, now I say,
This spirit may
Punish you without delay !

" That you see him now,

I'd have you know !
I'm he, and I'll punish you, I vow !"
He struck a blow ;
In a moment, lo !
From the peasant's head two long ears grow !
j 2

.140

JUBEZAHL AND THE LYING PEASANT.

" Wherever you go,

You now can show
That Kubezahl right well you know.
When a fool sneers,
And loud declares
"lis false, you can swear by your ass's ears !"

km uh t\t imk^
'AM3 and his sister Marie worked for a
peasant in Stonsdorf, a village of the
Giant Mountains, lying about three
miles from Warmbrunn, and situated
close by the Prudelberg, an immense mass of
granite, in which is to be seen Eischmann's Cave,
where it is said the prophet Eischmann gave his
wise sayings forth to the world.
These two children were both so economical and
industrious, that they had soon saved up a little
sum of money. With this they one day set out to
Warmbrunn market, where they intended to buy a
cow for their poor mother.
On their way they sat down to rest ; then they
counted their money, and built their castles in the
air. They wished to improve their old tumble
down house, and add a field to it. Then how
happy their mother would be in her old age !
"And," said Hans, "if I can only get money
enough to buy some corn to sow, then when it is
grown, reaped, and sold, I shall be able to buy a
horse, which shall be as well trapped as a noble
man's. I shall be so pleased to ride to market

142

HANS AND THE DONKEY.

through the town, so that people may think a rich

farmer is coming on his nag." Then as Hans put the
purse back into bis jacket pocket, a fine donkey
suddenly sprang out of the thicket, and ran right
into the boy's arms. " Ah, now, this is a good
beginning," laughed Hans, and seizing the donkey,
he held it fast by a rope which was tied round his
neck.
" Brother, you surely will not keep the donkey 1 "
asked Marie, anxiously.
" You silly little thing ! " replied he ; " you do
not think I should be so wicked. If I should like
to be a rich man, and lead an easy life, yet
surely I would not be a thief. God forbid ! You
go into the thicket, while I search this side, to see if
we cannot find the donkey's master."
The brother and sister looked, and shouted, and
waited for nearly an hour, but no one came to seek
for the animal ; and as they were obliged to hasten to
Warmbrunn, because they had to be back to their
master by evening, they took the donkey with
them, hoping to meet with the owner on their way.
Hans guided the strong beautiful creature by a cord,
but when he had gone a few steps, he thought,
" Why should I not make myself more comfort
able ? " So saying, he sprang on the donkey, and
began to ride, while Marie held the cord. For a
little while they got on very well, but suddenly the
donkey began to caper about, sticking out his feet,
and making such a crooked back that Hans was
terribly thrown about; he scarcely knew where hia

i% <ftrartb gortfteg.

HANS AND THE DONKEr.

143

head was. He would fain have dismounted, but the

animal would not stand still a moment ; he broke
the cord by which Marie led him, and then capered
up to a great hole, into which lie threw his alarmed
rider, whose ears tingled with the fall. There lay
our hero quite still, and scarcely able to move. His
sister came up weeping, to help him rise again, while
the ass trotted up to the mountains and disappeared.
The poor bruised boy crept quite down-hearted to
his sister's side. However, at last they came to
Warmbrunn, and found a good cow at a tolerably
reasonable price ; but just when Hans was going to
count out his money lie looked at his sister, with a
face pale as ashes. The purse was gone !it had
fallen from his pocket during his foolish donkey
ride. Now was their sorrow really distressing ; there
stood brother and sister amid all the ruin of their
hopes. The seller of the cow thought that he had
to do with sly thieves, who only wanted to deceive
him, so he ealled the police, who were going to put
Hans in prison, but Marie implored so earnestly for
her innocent brother, that they at last let them
both go in peace, and they had only a crowd of
street boys following them, which made poor Marie
so ashamed that her eyes were full of tears.
On their way home the sorrowing children
searched all through the bushes, hoping, perhaps,
to find their purse, but it was all in vain.
" Tt is Eubezahl, and none other, who has played
us this trick," said Hans, angrily. " I wish I had
the wicked spirit standing before me now, so that

144

HANS AND THE DONKEY.

he might feel the power of my strong arm. I should

be glad even if he would kill me in his rage, be
cause to return to my mother with empty hands is
bitter indeed."
"Hans," said his sister, " I think the mountain
spirit only wished to teach us a good lesson. Why
did we want more happiness, when we ought to
have been joyful and contented with buying a cow
for our poor mother."
Hans was silent, and the children went again to
their work ; Marie in the stall to milk the cows,
and Hans to chop straw; but he was so miserable
that he could not work properly, and his chopper
fell to pieces.
" Give me a bit of cord," cried he to Marie in
the cow-shed.
Marie felt in her pocket, where she had put the
end of the cord which she held in her hand when
the donkey broke loose. Hans tried to tie the
bundle of hay with it, but the rope was brittle,
and when the hemp fell about, it gleamed and
glittered so brightly.
Hans looked at it in astonishment; there was
the cord all made of golden threads, so the
brother and sister become rich all at once ! By the
sale of the cord they were able to buy two fine
cows, and add to their piece of ground; and they
made their mother's little cottage quite nice, while
they took care of her with true watchfulness and
love. But Hans never forgot the lesson of the
mountain spirit ; and although his wealth increased

HANS AND THE DONKEY.

145

from year to year, he still remained simple-minded,

so that he always, as formerly, went to market on
foot, and never rode his horses for convenience or
show, but only drove them to the fields. People
say that he is for ever cured of riding.

Pofo ^nkgaftl fttius^ Coating.

OW, thank God, we are at the top ! "
exclaimed three cloth-makers from
Gorlitz, when they had reached the
pass of Schmiedeberg.
They laid
down their bundles, and wiped the perspiration
from their foreheads. They were going to Bohemia,
and just sat down for a short time to rest. While
they were so doing there came by a fine rich-look
ing man, who spoke to them, and when he heard
that they had cloth to sell, he said, " I will buy it
all of you." He did so, although the men asked an
extravagant price, and he paid them in golden
ducats. When they had concluded their bargain,
the three cloth-makers continued their journey, and
after they had gone some distance they took the
ducats out of their pockets, laughing at having
cheated the stranger so easily. But to their great
amazement they found only copper coins in their
pockets !
They immediately turned back to the place where
they had rested on the way. They met a coach
and six horses, and in it sat the gentleman. They
told him that he had given them copper halfpence

HOW KUBEZAHL PUNISHES CHEATING.

147

instead of golden ducats. "Let me see," said the

stranger ; but when they opened their purses all was
good gold in them. The men stood petrified, while
the gentleman said : " Could you not tell good pure
gold from rubbish 1 But if you do not like it, I
will pay you the price in thalers." So saying, he
paid them in silver money.
Again they went on their way, very well pleased,
and after a short time they looked again to see if
the thalers were safe in their purses. But, oh,
dear ! nothing was inside now but bits of glass and
rubbish ! They hastened back with all speed, and
fortunately there stood the carriage in the old place.
The gentleman asked what they wanted by coming
to him again. They demanded their cloth back.
But he was very angry, and said, " they had been
paid honestly, and they must now go quietly on
their way." With that he set off at a galloping
pace down the pass, while the miserable clothmakers set out again, moaning and lamenting as
they went. But when they came to Libau, and
emptied out their bags, there were indeed good
thalers in it, but only exactly the price which was
proper for them to have asked, had they been
honest. Not a farthing more. Their unrighteous
gain was thus lost, besides which they had had the
trouble of going the same way so many times.
Then the cloth-makers knew who the strange
gentleman had been, and ever after they often
thought of the proverb
" Let no man ask more than his due, for so he
defrauds his neighbour."

% typt leMars.
vNE day Eubezahl sat upon the stone
which is called " Eubezahl' s chair,"
looking down into the world below,
and thinking of one thing and ano
ther. Presently over the Stormy Cap there came
three travellers, and, by their conversation, Eube
zahl found they were travelling merchants, or ped
lars, as we should now call them.
" What do you travel in 1 " asked one. " Train
oil," replied the second. " And I," said the first,
"in carriage grease."
" A good article," replied the other ; and you,
sir ? " said he, turning to the third.
"In Limburg cheese," was the answer.
" A celebrated and well-known article ; beats
Swiss cheese ; and very little more Dutch cheese
will be made," cried the other two.
Eubezahl heard but understood not a word of all
this. How any one could travel in train oil, and
carriage grease, yes, even in Limburg cheese, was
quite incomprehensible to him. " In the mean
time," thought he, "I will listen to what more they
have to say." But what did he hear 1 The way

THE THREE PEDLARS.

149

ferers had sat down upon a rock, not noticing the

man who was looking at them, and, taking out of
their knapsacks wine and venison, they began to be
very merry. The more they drank the more com
municative they became, and Eubezahl soon found
whose wicked children they were. He discovered
that they went round to people's houses offering
their different goods, and then they told each other
the manner in which they sold them. Thus he
learnt their wickedness at their own lips.
He
was astonished at the boldness of the young men.
One observed that the more impudent one was the
more was to be got, and if the people were rich, they
must be still more importunate and teasing, because
generally they would buy merely to be rid of them.
" How can people be so blind 1 " thought Eube
zahl, " that they do not perceive the abominable
tricks these rascals play them ; for if these ped
lars" but he would listen no longer to their talk,
and he left the rock in a rage.
At last the travellers continued their way, turn
ing to the path of the Elbe Eall. Suddenly the
beautiful weather changed, and a thick fog sur
rounded them. The pedlars walked as it were in
clouds; this put them all in a very ill humour. One
was cross because the damp spoiled his fine curls ; it
took the stiffness out of the other one's ruffles
and cuffs ; and the third made his boots very dirty
by walking in the mud.
But their ill-humour was much increased, when
the one who pretended he knew the way lost it,

150

THE THREE PEDLARS.

and they found themselves amongst swamps, trees,

and bits of stone and weeds. They wandered here
and there, and still they could not find their way
again.
At last the cross ill-humoured trio came to a
river, which, on account of the fog, they could not
see across. A man of very curious appearance
stood before them ; presently he filled a glass from
the river, and said : " Gentlemen, you must pledge
me in a bumper."
One of them put the glass to his nose, smelt, and
then said, " That is trajn oil."
" Yes," replied the stranger, " and you must
drink to me in it, or you do not move from this
place."
" That is what you travel in," said the young man,
reaching the glass to one of his companions. But
he could not taste it, and shudderingly said, " he
was neither a Greenlander nor made of shoe-leather,
and he could not drink such stuff."
" But," replied the strange man, in a terrible
voice, " you say you travel in train oil, and, if you
do not drink, you shall not leave this place alive. I
say this for the last time."
" Oh, do drink I " shrieked the others, while fear
brought tears to their eyes.
So the poor wretch closed his eyes, gave two or
three shudders, one gulp, and emptied the glass
down his throat. Presently tbe fog cleared off a little,
and the stranger, stepping on one side, quickly disapp eared amongst the rocks. And then the travel

TH:; THREE PEDLAKS.

151

lers saw a bridge, which brought them safely over

the river. Now they thought they were out of all
danger, for they heard the rushing of the Elbe Fall
very near, but all at once the path descended amidst
rocks, and their tall perpendicular walls surrounded
them on all sides. Soon they arrived at another river,
whose black waves glided slowly past, and on
the bank was a tablet, on which was inscribed
" Through ! "
One of them stooped down, tasted the river,
smelt it, and said : " That is carriage grease ! We
must be enchanted and bewitched ! "
" Oh, now, that is what you deal in, and you
must go through it first, or we will throw you into
the black soup, and use your back for a bridge."
They did not really intend to do this, but they
wanted to frighten him, and seeing there was
nothing to be done, he, after a great deal of demur,
stepped into the abominable stream, the others
slowly following him. At last they reached terra
firma on the opposite bank, where they again saw
the same curious looking man, who had given them
to drink from the train oil river. He was leaning
on a rock laughing maliciously, and said,
" Now, you dirty people, you are well besmeared,
and may go your way ; perhaps you will not soon
forget the lesson you have received, and beware of
again smearing others."
So saying, this strange man disappeared among
the trees. The road in which the wayfarers now
found themselves became much broader and more

152

THE THREE PEDLARS. .

even ; and the leader said that now he thought he

knew where he was. And so it proved, for, as the
mist cleared away, they could see the cottages of the
village of Schreibershau lying in deep shadow before
them. At this place the young men had ordered
that a carriage should await them, and they were
soon (more especially the third) seated very
comfortably, with all their troubles and difficulties
ended, on the soft cushions, and they start ed very
contentedly for Warmbrunn. There they entered
the Prussian Crown Inn, where there were many
people assembled in the tents, drinking coffee. The
young merchants hastily made themselves smart,
combed their untidy hair, and tried to look as
handsome and nice as possible before they went
among the ladies. But the fair dames turned from
the travellers with all signs of disgust, putting their
handkerchiefs or smelling bottles to their noses.
" Oh ! what a fright you are. What is the matter 1"
asked two of the friends of the third, on entering the
saloon ; and " oh !how nasty you smell ! " Fancy
his vexation and amazement, when, on quickly chang
ing his coat, he discovered that it looked very
peculiar, for, lo ! instead of carriage cushions, he
had been sitting in the Limburg cheese ! That was
a sly joke Eubezahl played those three young men.
If the mountain spirit does still exist, he would
now find enough to do, for there are very queer
people who travel through the Giant Mountains.

iofo Itok^I \Ap a feasant.

NCE upon a time, there lived in the
mountains a nobleman, who was a
harsh, proud man ; he ill-used his
people dreadfully, and seemed to think
that poor men were brought into the world to suffer
cruel treatment. One day, he commanded a peasant
to go to the forest and fetch an immense oak, which
had been hewn down, and bring it to the castle. It
was useless to oppose the words of the nobleman,
and this the poor wretch who received the order
knew very well ; so he took his horse out of the
stable, although he knew it was impossible for it
to drag the heavy oak tree all that way. He tried
only to move it from its place, but it was all in
vain. The poor peasant lamented and cried, and he
knew the nobleman only imposed the extravagant
task upon him, as a pretext for furnishing him with
an object on which he could vent his passion, for he
could plead as an excuse that the poor man did not
do his duty.
"While he was still standing very miserable by
the oak, a man came past ; he asked the peasant
why he was so sad.
K

154

HOW EUBEZAHL HELPS A PEASANT.

" Ah ! " replied he, "you cannot help me." Still,

however, he related the story to the stranger.
" Be comforted, my friend," replied the latter ;
" go quietly home; I will soon have the tree where
you wish it should be."
The stranger was Eubezahl, and I think nobody
will ever be able to do the wonderful things which
he did.
He took the oak, with its great outspreading
branches, in his hand, and carried it easily as a
walking-stick into the village. There he laid it
before the cruel man's door, in such a manner that
people could neither go out nor in. The noble
man ordered it to be removed, but it was as heavy
as iron, and although the workmen exercised all
their strength, they could not move it an inch
Nothing could be done, and the nobleman found he
must have a new door made in the wall; but as
it would cost a great deal of money, he com
manded the peasant to come and make it, as a
punishment, for having put the tree in such a place.
But when the man told his story, " and how the
stranger had put the oak there, the nobleman pretty
soon saw that Eubezahl had had a hand in the busi
ness, and he had such fear and reverence for the
spirit that he permitted the peasant to go in peace,
and since that time has been a milder and better
man. Such was the great respect which Eubezahl
had created for himself all around.

l>e florae Catp^nters.

LHEEE young carpenters were one daywandering over the highest of the
Giant Mountains. One of them had
been ill of a fever, and was still veryweak. This latter came from Erfurt, and the
other two from Schmiedeberg. The poor youth
from Erfurt was so tired that he could scarcely
walk, but he was forced to go on, for the three com
panions had very little money, and therefore they
could not stop very often at inns on their way.
They were going to Prague, were they hoped to
obtain work. They passed Hainfall, from which
place up to the chapel of St. Anne of Seydorf there
is a path. There the Erfurter sighed ; " Now, I can
go no farther. I must rest ; you two proceed ; I will
no longer be a burden to you."
" Why should we not all rest J" said the other
two ; " a little repose would also do us good, and
here, under the fir-trees, are cool shade and soft
moss."
While they were all three enjoying their rest, they
heard close by them the sound of a gun, which
made them spring to their feet. At the edge of an
k 2

156

THE THREE CARPENTERS.

overhanging rock they perceived a sportsman, who

looked at them and then disappeared. A moment
after, they heard a rustling in the bushes, and then
a fawn broke through them, and with one bound
stood before the three friends.
" Ah, that will give us food for some days to
come," said one of them, " and if we sell the skin,
we shall be able to pay for a good many nights
lodgings."
"But stolen goods never prosper," said the
Erfurter ; "let the fawn goit is not ours."
" Fool !" sneered the two Schmiedebergers, " shall
it lie here and rot ?" The hunter had no dog to
scent it out, and so the beast will only find some
one else who is not so stupid as we are. ~No ! no ! we
will make free with it, and if you will not have a
part, it will be all the better for us."
So saying, they killed the wounded animal, and
mockingly threw the entrails to their companion.
He carefully turned them over with his stick, but
lo ! they shone and glittered in a most wonderful
manner. On looking closer, he discovered in them a
golden bullet, then a second and a third. The
Schmiedebergers were not a little astonished ; they
now knew who the hunter was, and thought to
themselves, " Ah ! we should be free from all
care and want, had we not thrown him the entrails."
But the young man generously divided the golden
bullets with his companions, and they joyfully
carried the fawn to a poor woman who had six
hungry children. There was, indeed, a day of re

THE THREE CARPENTERS.

157

joicing in the little thatched cottage, and its in

mates found food for a long while from the meat
which the three young carpenters had given them,
who, in the meantime, arrived at Prague, where they
soon found good employment.

iflfo $takp{}I mafeflj a figtail for aHaobman.

iN the village of Bruchenberg, which is
situate very high up in the mountains,
there lived a long time ago a woodman, of
whom it was said that he very well
understood the art of bragging, and that the history
of his adventures, which he wasjcontinually relating,
savoured very strongly of Baron Munchausen's
wonderful travels. Very often of a Sunday even
ing, at the ale-house, he would tell them such
strange things that they scarcely knew where their
heads were. Bubezahl heard of this, but for a long
time he forbore to take any notice of it, because in
other respects the man was a good soul, and,
barring his long wonderful stories, the people liked
him.
But one evening he had paid the minister of
Seydorf a visit, and afterwards the parson accom
panied him home. As they slowly ascended the
mountain path which led to St. Anne's Chapel
and its surrounding gravestones, the woodman began
about his adventures and travels.
"Ah, sir, many things have happened to me,
which others would give a great deal of money to

BUBEZAHL AND THE WOODMAN.

159

have met with, and now they are so envious that

they will not believe the truth of what I tell them.
Only think, for example, in Spain the most horrible
cruelties are perpetrated by pirates. I shudder even
now when I think of them. That, however, is
not what I intend to tell, but it is this : Once,
when I went out at twilight into a wood, I saw
a brown animal moving slowly about. ' Hold ! '
thought I, ' that is certainly a cow ! ' I had been
a long time without meat, so I took my gun and
fired. But fancy my astonishment when I went
up to it, and found it to be a froga great frog, as
big as an ox!"
"Friend," interrupted the minister, "take care
what you say ; the frog was surely a little smaller
than what you would make me believe."
" No, I have not exaggerated its size an inch ;
it was like a monstrous ox. I skinned it and had
the skin tanned ; then I had a pair of breeches,
a waistcoat, and a coat made out of it, and they are
so warm and watertight, that I can stand quite
comfortably in the rain in them, or wade through
a morass and not be in the least wet."
" Ah ! your story is very wonderful ; it seems
exactly as though it were not true."
" Yes, does it not ? " continued the forester.
" So a great many have told me. But how astounded
you will be when I tell you a still more wonderful
tale. I had a dog, a pointer ; many times I might
have sold him for two hundred thalers. He would
stand firm as a wall, and this good quality was at

160

HOW BUBEZAHL MAKES A PIGTAIL

last the cause of his death. Listen now. I go one

morning into the forest, take the dog with me, but
do not think farther about him. As I am return
ing home I call the dog, but he is nowhere to be
seen. I wander about the whole day, I search
through every bush, I call and whistle, but no trace
of the dog. ' He is lost, and has been shot,' I
thought, and for a long time I could not forget the
beautiful creature. But now hear, friend, what
happened about a year after. I went again through
the forest, there, on a little bank, I saw something
white ; I approached it. Imagine my astonishment !
When I came near, I saw an assemblage of twelve
skeletons of birds, and before them the skeleton of
my dog, whom I knew by the double set of fangs
which he had. The dog had seen a flight of par
tridges, and as, through fear, they had not ventured
to fly from him, they had perished with the faithful
animal."
The parson laughingly shook his head.
" Don't you think that very remarkable, sir i "
continued the forester. " But now I have not told
you the best part of it. As a remembrance of the
poor dog, I had a pipe made out of one of his leg
bones. I have it with me now. As I was one day
smoking it and walking by some bushes, it shook
suddenly in my mouth, so that all my teeth cracked.
In astonishment I took the pipe from my mouth,
but it moved about just as much in my hands. I
began to suspect how it was ; I looked down to see
what it was, and there, right behind the bushes.

&ty Spirit g'tftfS % SSoobman: a pigtail.

FOB A WOODMAN.

161

was a crowd of partridges, before which the bone

pipe jumped and pointed just the same as the living
dog used to do. Ah, what wonderful things we
live to see ! "
" No ; that is rather too much, friend," said
the parson. " If you tell any more lies I am afraid
something will happen to us."
The forester got very angry at this, and kept in
sisting that what he had spoken was only truth, he
could call a hundred witnesses to the fact, only it
was difficult to assemble them. When they had
gone a little farther, the parson chanced to lag a
few steps behind.
" Friend," cried he, "what have you got behind
you % "
The forester turned round and saw a long hairy
thing hanging from his head, and reaching to the
ground.
" It is a pigtail ! " said the parson, " and has
grown to you."
" Yes, a pigtail !" said, all at once, a voice behind
them, " and you will wear it, friend woodman, until
you have learned not to tell lies."
It was Eubezahl who said it, and then disap
peared.
The two men stood petrified with
astonishment. At last, however, the parson began
quietly to return home. The woodman tried in
vain to get rid of his pigtail, but if he cut
it off, it grew again in a moment, longer than ever.
There was no way then to be rid of it but by
leaving off telling lies. This was a difficult task

162

BUBEZAHL AND THE WOODMAN.

enough for him, but what was to be done? He

never lied again, for what a man seriously resolves,
that he can do. Since that time, however, if anybody
exaggerates, the saying in that village and
everywhere around is : " We will make him a
pigtail."

% GamftUr.
YOUNG man from the village of
Agatendorf was climbing up to the
coral rocks, and as he went he sang so
clearly that he could be heard all
through the mountains. Eubezahl, who was standng near, heard the carol, and thought to himself,
" There seems to be a happy man coming along ; we
will just see whether he is also a good one." So the
mountain spirit assumed the form of an old barrelorgan player, who used to sit in summer time at
the foot of the mountain and welcome travellers
with his music, for which they would give him a
few halfpence. But to-day the old man did not
happen to be at his post, for he had gone to play
at a wedding in the village. So the spirit sat there
instead of him, and began to play the tune of
" happy and cheerfully."
When the youth came near to the organ man he
took out his purse and threw him a groschen, after
which he went, singing and whistling, on his way,
not staying for the old man's thanks.
" A pleasant journey to you," cried Eubezahl
cheerfully after him, and also went his way. But

164

THE GAMBLER.

the young man walked on until he came to the

Elbe meadows. There he saw several young people
playing at bowls. He could never pass by a gaming
table or a bowling green without having a game,
and now his fingers ached to try his luck. He
stood as though transfixed to the spot ; his joyful
song ceased, and his eyes greedily watched the bowls
as they went rolling along the soft green grass as
on a meadow of velvet.
Presently the young
people asked him to join their game ; saying, perhaps
he might win something. Our youth waited no
second invitation, and, beginning to play, he gained
one groschen after another, and very soon he had
won a good sum.
Presently darkness spread over the mountains,
but still he was not satisfied ; the others had
wished to leave off long ago, and the clock had
struck a late hour of the evening some time before.
From this moment the young man kept losing his
winnings one after the other ; and when they were
all gone, he lost the money which he had to pay for
his journey, and very soon he had not a farthing
left in his pocket.
As he was going away, very sad at heart, over the
Elbe meadows, one of the young men with whom
he had been playing cried out, that he should at
least take one of the ninepins with him as a re
membrance.
" Ah," thinks our youth, " it is a droll present ;
and now I think of it, how could the players be up
here on the mountains without it is some trick of

THE GAMBLER.

165

Rubezahl 1 Perhaps the ninepins will turn to gold ! "

So saying, he put all the ninepins secretly into his
pocket ; he only left the balls lying, for what he had
was quite heavy enough, he could scarcely carry them.
Presently he took a ninepin out of his pocket to see
whether it had turned into gold ; but, oh I it was no
agreeable joke of Eubezahl. The deceived youth had
put his hand into a quantity of mud and filth, and
a loud shriek of mocking laughter told him that
the mountain spirit had in this way punished his
love for gambling. I am afraid this good lesson
did not cure him, but I hope it did. In the
mountains may still be seen " Eubezahl's ninepins,"
and they testify to the truth of this tale.

fukpH anir % (Baitor.

iHE mountain spirit once came to Landeshut, carrying a little bundle of
cloth under his arm. He saw a girl
drawing water from a well, and in
quired of her if she knew a tailor. The girl
directed him to a house very near. "When he had
gone in, and politely ordered the tailor to make
him a coat from the cloth, the shrewd tradesman
thought to himself, I wonder if he comes from
Landeshut ; I do not often have such grand gentle
men to work for. So he doubled the cloth under,
thus making it half the size, and then put on a
thoughtful countenance, as though he should
have great trouble in making the coat out of so
little stuff. In the meantime Eubezahl chatted
with the other customers, and seemed as though
he did not observe the tailor.
The tailor promised that the coat should be
ready in a week's time, and Eubezahl went away.
When the week was over, he sent a servant to fetch
the coat, and told him to say that the next
time his master passed that way he would bring
him more work, and pay him for what he had

BUBEZAHL AND THE TAILOR.

167

already done. "All right," said the tailor, and

he thought to himself, " I shall make a good thing
out of this." But when another week passed, and
the stranger did not appear, the tailor began to
think, and he determined to sell the cloth, of
which he had defrauded the gentleman, so that
he might not loose his payment. " I have trusted
a gentleman this time, but I never will again,"
said he. Then he went to get the cloth down from
the shelf, instead of which, he found nothing but
a cloak woven of reeds. This seemed wonderful
indeed to him.
Now, it happened that some time after he went
with some friends up the Koppe mountain, there
they met Eubezahl, riding very merrily upon a
ram.
" Have you come to fetch the money for the
coat which you made me V cried he to the fright
ened tailor.
Everything seemed clear to the man now, but a
real tailor is very shrewd, and always knows how
to help himself in trouble.
" Gracious sir," says he, " I did not come up the
mountain on that account ; I will always serve you,
and you have credit as long as it pleases you."
" Now, as you are so indulgent, I will prove
myself grateful," says Rubezahl. " I will make you
a present of my steed ; but woe to you if you do
not use it!"
The tailor had no courage left then, although that
may sound incredible; but he did not relish the idea

168

HUBEZAHL AND THE TAILOR.

of setting himself upon the ram, who was now

standing bolt upright upon his hind legs.
But Kubezahl took the terrified man by the hand
and lifted him into the saddle, but he lifted him up
as high as a church steeple, for the mountain spirit
thought he was going to lift a hundred pounds'
weight, instead of which the tailor weighed very little
more than fifty. In so doing the sprite's glove
flew off his hand, and there it remains to this day,
not far from Kubezahl's throne.
Scarcely was the little tailor seated on his curious
charger than it trotted away with him, and all his
friends took hold of its tail, and so they came as
quickly as the tailor to where they had intended
to go. But wherever they went the people laughed
at them, and yet the tailor dared not get down
from the hateful beast, because he feared the anger
of the mountain spirit.
And as he dreaded in every new customer who
came to him that it might be Bubezahl, he took
care never to repeat the dishonest trick which he
had once committed, and from that time he became
the most honourable and honest tailor in the world.

%\t <M Mn>

NCE in Hirschberg there lived a rich
baker, who was mighty in the affairs
of the town, and he would talk very
grandly at the inn room, where he and
his fellow-citizens used to assemble to drink
their beer and wine of an evening ; but he was
very harsh and unkind to the persons who worked
for him, and to the peasants who brought him
wood for his furnace. He would seek out those
who were in the greatest necessity, then he would
make them a little advance of money, thus putting
them under obligation to him, and then he was
able to beat down their wages as much as he liked.
Now, one day it happened that a poor peasant
brought him a load of wood (the man's wages had
already been sorely beaten down), but when he had
unloaded in the rich baker's court-yard, he paid
the poor peasant eight groschen too little. The
man was very much astonished at this, and in the
most pathetic and heartrending tone told the baker
what trouble he had hadhow the waggon had
been injured, and the horses tired, and that it
would not pay if he did not receive the remuneraL

170

THE RICH BAKER.

tion agreed upon ; but the wicked wretch only re

plied shortly, that thepeasant might gather all his
wood together and take it home again if he would
not take what was given him.
This was easily enough said, but the poor peasant
would lose a day's work by it. He also wanted to
buy seed, that he might sow corn. So what remained
for him but to submit quietly ? Then he went out
of the town, quite down-hearted and sorrowful. Had
he complained of him in a court of justice, he
would have been obliged to wait a long time before
his case would have been decided, and also pay a
great deal, for lawyers' justice is not for poor
people, but for rich. So he went on his way, sor
rowful and distressed, and related his misfortune to
a neighbour, who returned home with him in bis
empty cart.
Eubezahl, who was also just then coming out of
the city, heard the sad story, and he resolved to
give the rich citizen a lesson. " Were he only to
cross my path," said the spirit, " I would soon
cure him ! " But the baker always took pretty
good care never to make a journey into the high
mountains ; he was much too stingy, indeed, for that
One day, as he was sitting in his dressing-room,
drinking a glass of warm beer, a man came to him
and said that he had heard he wanted a woodfetcher, and he offered himself as such, saying
that he would charge very little for his services.
The baker looked at the man, who did not appear
at all like a woodcutter, in astonishment, but

THE B1CH BAKER.

171

avarice and selfishness had so blinded him, that he

took him without more ado to the wood-yard, and
there showed him more than five great heaps of
wood which were to be split.
" How much will you charge for that ? " asked
he, curiously.
"Oh," said the stranger, "lam a citizen from
Schweidnitz, and hack wood more for my amuse
ment and for exercise, for I suffer from a liver com
plaint, and so I do not care for wages. If you will
only give me as much wood as I can carry away at
one time, I will charge you very little indeed."
" Now, I call him a fool," said the baker, and he
laughed in his sleeve, and thought he had com
pleted a good bargain; so he took the stranger
into his room, made him sit down, and poured
him out a glass of warm beer. The stranger looked
inquisitively round the fine room, whose walls were
lined with high cupboards, full of beautiful things,
and as he looked at the tapestry and hangings, he
said,
" By the powers ! in all my days I have never
seen such a fine room. These things have, of course,
been done in Breslau, sir 1"
" 'No, there are clever people also in Hirschberg,"
said he, "if you can pay."
Then the pretended Schweidnitz citizen took
his leavehe would come the next day and
begin his work ; and sure enough the next morn
ing, as the baker was getting out of bed, he heard
a loud noise of hacking, so he put on his
h 2

172

THE RICH BAKER.

dressing-gown and said, " I will just see if it is

all right." But when he got to the house door, he
stood staring with his mouth wide open, for the
strange woodcutter had taken his left leg out of
its socket, and was knocking the wood with it,
making it fly into a thousand pieces. Then the
baker began to be angry, and he called out to the
stranger to leave off and depart from the place, but
he seemed as if he did not hear, and still went on
with his work, and before a quarter of an hour was
over, every bit of wood was split up into small
pieces. Then he put his leg into its place, laid all
the wood into one immense heap, tied it on his
back, and walked quietly out of the yard, without
troubling himself to attend to the shouts of the
baker.
He stood as petrified ; all his wood was gonehe
had promised the woodcutter that he should have
as much wood as he could carry away at one time.
The man had done so, and on that ground the
baker could not detain him ; but what mostly kept
him from running after him was the conviction
that none but Eubezahl would have played him
such a trick, and he did not relish fighting with
him. So there he stood, and could do nothing but
stare, and when he was tired of that, he began to wish
that he had paid a little more to other labourers.
Rubezahl, in the meantime, unloaded himself
before the poor peasant's door, who could not
imagine who had brought him so much wood for
his winter fires, without his having seen the person

THE RICH BAKER.

173

who brought it ; but he thankfully made use of it,

and also gave his poor neighbours some. From
this time the rich baker became a changed man ;
and if ever he showed symptoms of his former
faults, he had only to think of his adventure with
the strange woodcutter, to make him kind and to
keep his word with his workmen.

Ifar it is htst to km tong ptientlg.

LWO turners, belonging to Voigtland,
were once returning over the high
mountains from foreign lands to their
own homes.
They were tired and
thirsty. All at once they perceived a tree loaded
with apples. This was very strange, as fruit seldom
grows so high up the mountains. A little peasant
boy was standing under the tree, shaking down the
apples. The wayfarers asked him if he would sell
them some.
" Yes ; why not 1 " replied the boy, and gave
them each a handful for a groschen.
They had not gone far before they took a bite
into their apples, but they found them hard as a
stone, and when they knocked them together it
sounded like two flints.
" The peasant has played us a trick," said one,
throwing down the apples.
" Let us put them all in a heap, and cover them
over with grass and moss," said the other, " so that
no one else may be deceived as we have been ;"
and this they did, for they were generous, kindhearted men.

WHY IT IS BEST TO BEAR WRONG PATIENTLY.

175

" I tell you what," began the first again, " I think
the little peasant was the lord of the mountains, of
whom are related so many queer histories ; so we
may be thankful that he did not play us a worse
trick."
" Ah, you are right," replied the other ; " but it
is our Own fault that he has misled us at all. It was
very stupid of us to think that apples could grow so
high up there, where not even a pine-tree can live."
As they were carefully covering up their stone
apples with earth and leaves they perceived some
thing glittering in the heap, and on looking closer
they found two large gold pieces lying amongst the
rubbish.
Our good Voigtlanders took these very thank
fully, for they found plenty of use for them, as they
had still a long way to go before they reached home.

Dafo ittk^ippda^teknt.
T the time when Eubezahl wandered
in the mountains all was very diffe
rent to what it now is. No ignorant
or unlettered youth could find a good
situation, even were his friends in a high station at
court, for there was not then much court influence.
Every young man had to learn some sound and good
employment, if they wished to make way in the
world, and even in that case it was difficult enough
to succeed.
In consequence of this there were numbers of
poor students who were obliged to sit industriously
at their books, only perhaps to obtain a paltry office
at last. These Eubezahl willingly aided, provided
they were not noisy, crack-brained rascals, brawling
from street to street, and fighting duels. Once, one
of the students whom Eubezahl liked was walking,
deep in thought, through the mountains. A man,
whose appearance was that of a pedlar, approached,
and fell into conversation with him. The man in
terrogated the student concerning his prospects in
life ; and the young man was not proud, but said

HOW RUBEZAHL HELPED A STUDENT.

177

frankly, that he was poor, and that he earned his

daily bread by writing and copying ; that he had a
poor mother, who washed and cooked for other
students, and that he was just then in great trouble,
for he had not money enough to buy a certain
book which was necessary for pursuing his
studies.
The man listened to him with interest, sought to
comfort him, and was much pleased to think that he
possessed that very book, and even had it with him.
Then he called to a servant behind him, who carried a
large knapsack, took the book out of it, and presented
it to the student. And now who so happy as he ? He
would like to have begun it directly, had not the
traveller been with him. As, however, he at last
took leave of him, the happy student sat down under
an overhanging rock, and diligently studied the book.
This he did every day ; there was not a more in
dustrious worker in the whole college. One day an
acquaintance of his offered him twelve thalers for
the book. For that sum the poor student could
have supported himself without any trouble for a
long time ; but he would not part with the volume,
for he said he should one day be richer, if he only
studied more, and that the book was a great source
of learning for him.
Before a month was over, the young man knew
the book's contents by heart. When he came to
the last page of it, there lay a bank-note between
the leaves, worth two hundred thalers ; it was
wrapped in delicate paper, on which was written,

178

HOW BUBEZAHL HELPED A STUDENT.

"A little remembrance from the lord of the

mountains."
Thus he could continue his studies without
farther difficulty, and in time he became a great
and learned man.

m kst Mtn.
\WE day, Eubezahl, in his wanderings,
came to the boundaries of his king
dom. "How would it be," thought
he, " if I were to stay here for the
night 1 Perhaps I might meet with an amusing
adventure ;" and so saying, he entered a small
roadside inn.
There sat three men round a table, drinking a
bottle of wine, and enjoying themselves exceedingly.
Eubezahl joined them, and begging them to proceed
in their conversation, one of them accordingly said,
"lam a servant from Dunkelsbuhl, in Swabia,
and as there is now peace in the land, I am going
into the wide world, to perform deeds which will
astonish mankind, and I would advise no one to
doubt my greatness, for I am the best man in the
world, but I cannot bear to be contradicted. I
always beat those who contradict me, and people
don't like that"
The other then said he was from Silesia, and had
been a cloth-weaver in Goldberg, but had left that
town for some slight reason, and now sought for
other work.

180

THE THREE BEST MEN.

" I am in reality the best man in the world,"

said he ; " but one day my master began to scold
me, and I struck his head with my iron, so he
complained of me to the magistrate, and I escaped,
in order not to get put in the stocks."
"lam a miller," said the third when he was
asked, " and T am certainly the best man in the
world, only I cannot bear injustice. If one of the
flour-bins were open, I used to put in a small
measure and take some out. My master was very
angry at this, and he sent me away, because he
said I stole all the flour from him."
" Well, we have all pretty much the same for
tunes in the world ; how would it be if we were to
go together a little way V
The others agreed, and presently they laid
themselves cosily down on the straw.
Whilst
they were soundly sleeping, Eubezahl looked at them
attentively, and said to himself,
" Why did I not make this discovery sooner ?
Once, I should have been content could I have
found one best man in the world, and now here I
have three at once."
The next morning the three best men set out on
their way, and Eubezahl charmed a piece of gold
into each of their pockets, so that they might be
well provided on their road.
Some time after, the mountain spirit thought,
" I should like to know where the three best men in
the world are, and how it goes with them."
And lo ! scarcely had this thought passed his

THE THREE BEST MEN.

181

mind, when he perceived the Geldberg weaver

coming along. Kubezhal quickly changed himself
into a sportsman, and began a conversation with
the young man.
" But why do you travel alone ? Have you met
with no companions 1"
" Yes, two, but we could not agree ; yet why
should I trouble myself about that 1 I have heard
that my master is dead, and as therefore he
can do me no harm, I am returning to Goldberg,
whence I came."
" Is not that a large and beautiful town 1 " asked
the sportsman. " I come from Swabia, and have
only been here two days."
" Ah, then I can impose upon you," thinks the
Goldberger ; so he said,
"Ah, there are many wonderful things in my
native town, especially the Town Hall ; it is eleven
thousand feet high, and the chimney of the tower
is one thousand feet high. "When it wants sweep
ing, the sweep requires a day and a half to do it,
so that he has to sleep in it for a night, and a little
room is built halfway up the chimney for that
purpose."
" You rascal," thinks Eubezahl to himself, " you
shan't leave me unpunished." But the Goldberger
boldly continued his lies. At last they came to
Krumenhubel, and the sun was brightly gilding the
tall mountains which rose above them. A number
of men were collected at the entrance of the town,
and the cloth-weaver, in a condescending manner,

182

THE THREE BEST MEN.

began to salute them. But the men put their

hands to their sides, and laughed, till it echoed
again and again through the mountains.
He
looked like a cross-bill ; a great nose was on his
face, out of which there grew a crowd of little noses.
He saw this as he happened to pass by a large tub
of water, and it nearly frightened him to death.
He clasped his hands on his face, and rushed into
the wood, followed by the laughter of the young
people.
The whole of that night the Goldberger hid him
self, and it was only hunger which at last drove him
back again amongst men. There a sportsman met
him, who said, laughing,
" Ah ! you have been in the clutches of the
mountain spirit ; your nose is certainly not a natural
one V
" Ah ! yes, I think the stranger I met was Herr
John himself. Oh, dear ! if I were only free from
this terrible nose, I would never tell lies again."
" Agreed ! so it shall be, my boy," cried the sports
man ; " but keep your word," and he disappeared
through the tall corn. At the same time the Gold
berger had his natural face again.

% Umfojp.
*HEN first the German people began
to be ashamed that they were
Germans, no fashion or dress was
handsome or good enough unless it
came from France. Also the mode of dressing the
hair came thence, and men and women wore wigs,
either to hide their grey or their scanty locks, so that
they might look young, although time had given them
many a reminder that they were now so no longer.
When Eubezahl heard of this nonsense, he set out
to Hirschberg, where the annual fair was being held,
and there transformed himself into a seller of these
wigs. Presently a young man came up, who seemed
very much to want one, and he asked Eubezahl
whether he had the sort he wanted.
" Plenty," answered he, " and all of the newest
fashion ; but they are very expensive."
The dandy looked with greedy eyes at the fine
new wigs which Eubezahl took from the pack one
after another, and could find no fault with them ex
cept that they were too dear. At this Eubezahl
shrugged his shoulders, and began to repack the ex
pensive wigs.

184

THE PERIWIGS.

"Hold!" cried the fop; " I will have one, for then
I shall be the first to set the fashion."
Then he paid the extravagant price without any
further delay, and returned home well pleased with
himself. JTow it went all through the town like
wildfire that new wigs were to be had, and every
silly fellow who had the money bought himself
one, so that the pedlar had soon sold all his periwigs,
and then he left the fair.
In the afternoon the young men strutted about
with their new purchases, and our young fop thought
to himself, " How astonished folks will be when they
first see my beautiful peruke."
As he was walking very proudly and with perfect
self-satisfaction along the street, where there were a
number of great and beautiful ladies sitting at the
windows of the houses, a peasant man called out to
him,
"My good friend, what have you got on your
head ? Some one has played you a trick," and pointed
to the wig. Then the street boys ran after him,
shouting and laughing, and even the old people
laughed outright when they saw the young gentleman.
At last he ran into a house, took off the wig and
looked at it in astonishment, for it had become a
perfect chaos of moss, hay, and shavings. In the
meantime all the buyers of the much-wished-for
wigs had fared no better, and noise and shouts of
laughter resounded through all the streets of the
town.
Although Rubezahl had played his trick very well

THE PERIWIGS.

185

it was not of much use, for even up to this time

people are sometimes not ashamed of making them
selves like monkeys, and it would not be a bad
thing if the mountain spirit were to come again
and teach them better.

% xtffeatw.
,NCE, in Seydorf, some one said, that
whoever could pluck some particular
flower from Eubezahl's garden would
be ever after rich and happy ; but it
must he done always on Midsummer night, for on
any other night Eubezahl would break the in
truders' necks. " But it must be an orphan ; no
bad man may do it," continued the narrator. Now,
in the inn where this was said there was a pair
of twins, who were orphans, and the master of the
house had taken care of them out of pity. One of
the twins was a boy, and when he heard this he
thought, "I will try that, and if I succeed, my
little sister and the good brewer also, who has been
so kind to us, shall be rich and happy."
Without saying a word to anybody, Joseph
slipped out of the room, put a piece of bread in
his pocket, and left the village with grand expecta
tions, and started for the mountains, for Mid
summer night was at hand. When he got to a
village near, the landlord of an inn where he
stopped asked him where he wanted to go so late
at night, and the boy frankly told him his inten

THE ORPHANS.

187

tion. A man who was sitting comfortably by a

table, drinking a bottle of tokay, heard him say
this ; and when Joseph had continued his way a
little farther, he ran quickly after him. " We
will go together," said he to the boy. " I am also
going to-night into Eubezahl's garden."
Joseph looked at the comfortable- looking man,
who appeared so round and well fed, and thought,
" What can he want to make him happier ? He
is the rich merchant from Breslau, who was there
all last night, sitting up to drink and play at cards
until past three o'clock in the morning."
They continued their way together. It is a
lovely night, and all is quiet and still, and from the
villages embosomed in the valley the clocks are
striking the evening hour. Then, as is the boy's
custom, he piously folds his hands and prays, but
the stranger is thinking of all the riches which he
can get by obtaining the flower. Now they have
arrived at Eubezahl's pleasure garden, and in a
moment they perceive the blossoms of the plant
shining through the darkness, and the man falls
greedily upon them, tearing them up by handfuls.
Suddenly, from behind a rock, an old man with
a silvery beard approached, and he called out,
" Hold ! " in a voice like thunder.
The merchant trembled all over, and stood as
though rooted to the ground ; but the youth went
quietly up to the old man, and begged that he
would allow him to take two blossoms away with
him.
m 2

188

THE ORPHANS.

The man looked kindly at the boy, and asked

him why he wished for exactly and only two.
Then Joseph told him how he and his sister were
orphans, and how they wanted to be rich and
happy, so that they need no longer be a burden to
their kind protector, and it was only for that that
be begged two little flowers.
Then the old man became still more kind, and
himself plucked a stalk of the wished-for flowers,
put it into the boy's hand, and also stuffed his pockets
with the flowers, telling him to take care and not
lose them. When this was done, and Joseph had
thanked his kind friend a thousand times, the old
man asked the merchant, " And who art thou ? "
The man replied that he was poor, and had also
come there to make his fortune.
" Miserable wretch ! " interrupted the old man,
" dost thou believe that I would make such a bad
man as thou art rich ? Depart ! it is only for pure
innocent orphans that my flowers grow."
The man trembled in the old man's presence, but
he did not relish having taken the trouble of climb
ing up the mountain and getting nothing for it ; so
he replied that he was also an orphan, that his
father had been killed in the battle of Moscow
before he had reached the age of twelve years. He
had scarcely spoken these words when the old man
became furious, and seizing him by the neck, threw
him headlong from the rock.
" Abominable liar ! " cried he, and his voice
-ounded like distant thunder, drowning the groans

THE ORPHANS.

18

of the wicked merchant, which, however, were soon

for ever hushed. But the boy sank terrified on his
knees, and prayed ; and then the old man took
him by the hand, speaking kindly to him, and led
him beyond the precincts of the garden.
In the meantime Joseph's friends in Seydorf
were very anxious about him, and especially did his
sister rejoice when he returned safe and sound,
bringing with him whole haudfuls of the wonderful
plant. He divided them equally between himself
and the brewer, and on the following morning
every leaf had become changed into pure gold.
Now in the whole world was no happier brother or
sister. Joseph was the richest man in the village,
but he never forgot Eubezahl's kind help to him,
nor the frightful end of the wicked.

% Wxthk Hoblenran.
[HAT same nobleman on whom Eubezahl had already played a trick by
bringing the oak-tree and laying it
before his door, was still hard-hearted
to the poor, and once, when times were bad, and a
peasant came and took one of the deer or other
animals from his property, he would have revenge
on him.
If a stag came into a poor man's field and eat up
his seed, and the poor man killed it, considering it as
his own, then very often he would be tied between
the antlers of the stag for punishment, and sent forth
into the woods and forests, and so was compelled to
remain there until the animal got loose in some way
from him.
"Only come into my mountains, I'll punish you ! "
thinks Eubezahl.
Well, one day this really happened. The no
bleman commanded that a great hunt should take
place, and he did not notice how far he went, nor
what boundaries he overstepped ; therefore he
soon came into Eubezahl's dominions, who no
sooner hears the halloo of the drivers and the

THE WICKED NOBLEMAN.

191

sound of the horns, than he thinks to himself,

" Ha ! now is the time ! " So he went up to the
nobleman and asked him who gave him permission
to hunt upon ground which was not his own.
The nobleman was astounded at the boldness of the
unknown, so he gave him a blow and commanded
the hunters who were on the spot to seize the man.
Rubezahl, however, stood very quietly, and fixed
his eyes on them, and as he looked one and all
became stiff and dumb. Then the nobleman was in
a great rage ; he drew out his hunting knife and
was going to pierce it through the person nearest
to him, but Eubezahl seized hold of him in such
a manner that he could move neither hand nor foot.
Then he repeated to him the whole list of crimes
which he had committed, and when that was over,
told him this was his last hunt. Then the moun
tain spirit disappeared, after he had thrown the
nobleman down on the ground with such force
that all his bones creaked. Scarcely was Eubezahl
gone when hunters and riders unstiffened, and
came to life again. They made a bier out of
branches, laid their master on it, and carried him
home. Then there was great distress in the castle,
but in the village there was great joy. The doctor
scarcely knew what to prescribe for his patient
first he ordered one thing, and then another. Our
nobleman was compelled to take shovels full of
powders, and saucepans full of pills as large as
balls, but all was of no use ; he was bled, and then he
was dieted, and lived like a sparrow. That entirely

192

THE WICKED NOBLEMAN.

finished this noble lord, and at last he became so

altered and quiet that he said, " It is all over with,
me ; give me my sword to put by my side that I
may die like a nobleman ! "
" Give him also his spurs ! " cried one of his
friends, " for these a nobleman who is going to ap
pear before his chief ought to have."
The servants were astonished that their master
had a chief, for they had never heard of it before,
and in their simple hearts they rejoiced at it. They
put on his boot3 and spurs for him, his sword by
his side, and his shield at his feet. Then the sick
man died quietly. Suddenly there was a knock,
and a stranger entered, who said he was a clever
physician, and he wished to try whether there was
really no life in the nobleman. But it was our
friend Eubezahl again, and when he touched the
corpse it immediately fell into a heap of ashes,
and neither sword, nor shield, nor silver spurs were
anywhere to be found.
The application of this story must be clear to
every one.

llMttlC.

MEREY company, staying at Warmbrunn, resolved one morning that they

would make an excursion up the
mountains before they left the place.
So meat and wine were packed up. The morning
was fine, the travellers were in high spirits, and the
ladies joined in the songs and merriment of the
gentlemen. They passed Giersdoif, and reached
the paper mill in the wood. Near there they rested,
and they dealt most unmercifully with the eatables
they had brought with them. Then they continued
their way, and soon they had reached the Teufel
Meadow, where there was much shrieking and
laughter, for the white stockings of the ladies got
many a dirty speck from the mud there, but all this
only added to the universal fun and frolic.
At last the whole party stood on the top of the
mountain, and they saw the lovely view lying in the
sun's rays at their feet ; and now their merriment
reached the highest pitch, and because they had
been so favoured by the weather, and no misfortune
had happened to them, a sweet, lively young girl
seized her wine-glass and cried out, " Let us wish

194

THE PIC-NIC.

good health and give many thanks to the good

Eubezahl ! "
Scarcely were the words past her lips than a
storm burst forth, so that the whole party was thrown
into great confusion, and the wind was so violent
they were scarcely able to keep their feet.
After much risk of falling down the precipices
they began their way back, but from all sides
sounded shrieks of laughter, and only at the end of
the meadow the clear blue sky of heaven again
shone over the wet and dripping travellers.
"You may consider yourselves lucky," said an
old man, one of their guides, " that the mountain
lord has not brokeil the neck of one of you, for
nobody ever escapes unpunished who mentions the
name of Eubezahl upon the mountains ; but most
dangerous is it upon the Snow-head and the
Pleasure-garden."
They passed the night in Warmbrunn, happy to
have escaped so easily from the bad weather and
Eubezahl's clutches ; but the next morning, when
the gentlemen were bathing, they related to the
others their adventure on the mountains, how
Eubezahl had terrified them.
"You may be thankful," replied a stranger,
whom, for the first time, they perceived amongst
them, " if you find the mountain spirit has played
you no worse trick."
" Oh, we received no other harm," replied one, as
he got out of the bath.
But, oh, horrible ! how terrified were the whole

; |)-nic on t\t pComrfam.

THE PIC-NIO.

195

company when they perceived that the man was

black from head to foot ! And yet greater their
astonishment as one after the other got out of the
"baths all of the same black colour, and no washing
powder or alkali could get them clean.
A whole day were they compelled to go about like
negroes, and besides, they had to bear the mockery
of the others ; but the next morning, on entering
the baths, the fatal colour suddenly disappeared, at
which they all danced for joy.
" It was too bad of him." But who that "him"
was, no one dared to say, for they were afraid.

(w toMa^twtlmjj.

*N Schmiedeberg there lived a youth who

was very wild, and a great plague to every
body, therefore no one would take him into
his service. At last he went into the
but he succeeded no better there ; it was
about the time of the thirty years' war, and so he
was more able to continue his evil practices un
punished. Eubezahl had often heard poor people
complain of him, for whenever there was anything
stolen or destroyed, this youth was not far off. He
took care never to go near the Giant Mountains until
he was wounded and carried past them to the
hospital of Schmiedeberg. Then it was the soldier's
great delight to say, "Now they must do me
honour when I die, for they will have to shoot
three times across my coffin."
Soon he died, and no one was sorry for it, but
still they were obliged to bury him with all military
honours, and the soldiers came with their lances
and guns, to carry him to the grave, and there was
the drummer with his muffled drum.
On the
hospital floor, however, stood two coffins, for one

THE GOOD-FOR-NOTHING.

197

of the old nurses had died also, and was to be

carried to her last home.
When the soldiers were ready, the principal of
the hospital pointed to one of the coffins, and said,
" There he is." Then the men lifted up the coffin
on their shoulders, the drums were beaten, and be
hind the bier marched the men, playing solemn
music. In the churchyard the parson preached
how that the dead person was liberated from his
earthly chains, and was now in the presence of hia
Maker. Then the warriors fired thrice over the
grave ; again the drums beat, causing a whole herd
of geese to fly over the heads of the assembly.
"When it was all over, every one returned to their
homes.
The parson went back to the hospital, in order to
fetch the body of Anna, the nurse. A number of
old women had assembled round the coffin, and
were howling and lamenting. After blessing the
corpse, it was at that time the custom to uncover it,
so that people might see their dear friend once more.
Suddenly there was a cry of surprise, and eveiy one
rushed away as though bereft of their senses ; for
when they looked in the coffin, they saw no other
than the wicked soldier, stiff and rigid, with his
leather collar and military cap and sword by his
The bearers had taken away the wrong coffin at
first, and so they had fired and drummed over old
Anna.
But folks thought it could not have been done by

198

THE GOOD-FOR-NOTHING.

accident ; Eubezahl must have had something to do

with his death, so that the young soldiers might
take example, and not forget that, though soldiers,
they were human beings.
This was universally believed, but no one knew
for certain.

% iefo.
OME Jews once sold goods to Eubezahl, not knowing who he was.
The merchandize was very bad, but
they sold it at an enormous price,
and were rejoicing over the unusual size of the
gold pieces which he had paid them. When they
arrived at the next inn on their way, they entered
it, and ordered a private room where they might shut
themselves up to cut the money in pieces, which
they always did when they had ducats.
As one of them took a knife in his hand to cut
away the edge of one of the pieces the knife slipped,
and went right through the coin, so that it fell in
two. One of the pieces fell on the ground, and in
spite of all their searching they could not find it
again. And this same happened to the second and
third pieces, so in this manner they lost all that they
had so deceitfully earned.
One of the money
changers, thinking he would be more clever than
the others, took a file and filed the gold-dust in a
plate, but to his great vexation he filed more than
he intended, so that the stamp on the gold was
spoiled, and the dust, which he wanted to collect

200

THE JEW.

carefully, remained clinging to his hands, and he

could not get it off, do what he would. But what
amazed and plagued the Jew more than anything
was, that he had the gold on hishands, and yet could
make no use of it !

ffi&e ierb Gatltm.

ONG, long ago, in a village of the Giant
Mountains there dwelt an old couple ;
Bieder, who was a charcoal burner,
and Alice his wife. They were poor,
so no one thought much about them, and they lived
in a little tumble-down hut. They had no children
and scarcely any relations, for poverty has but one
friend, who dwells in heaven. It is true there was
a sister of the charcoal burner's, but she lived in
Bohemia with her daughter, and was a poor widow,
.who procured her bread by very hard toil.
No one troubled their heads very much about
this aged couple, and the bright sun-light was much
oftener in their dwellings than a piece of black
bread, and poor Alice often spun her yarn with
many tears of sorrow ; for her good man lay before
her sick of the gout, and his lame hands could no
longer aid his wife by holding the spindle for her
as he used to do. Indeed, their necessity was often
very great, for Alice was obliged to watch and nurse
the sick man, and therefore she no longer had time
to spin in one day a whole skein of her finest wool.
"When the linen merchant passed her door and
N

202

THE HERB GATHERER.

knocked at the tiny lattice, Alice would often shako

her head sadly, for she had no linen to sell, or it
was so little that she gained only two groschen by
it, and that scarcely sufficed to buy even bread and
salt. And so, in suffering and want, time passed
with these poor old people.
One day old Bieder sat at the door of his hut and
warmed his shrunken limbs in the sun's rays.
Alice brought him his pipe, with the bowl made
of wood ; then she took distaff and spindle, and
seated herself on the wooden bench by the side of
the old man. Along the road whirled fine carriages,
which raised a thick dust as they drove quickly on
ward, taking the road which led to the mineral
spring, whose celebrated baths had restored many
thousands to health and strength.
" Ah !" sighed old Alice, "if we were only rich,
like those grand travellers, you could also bathe in
the warm baths, and your diseased limbs would
again become robust and healthy." Bieder bent hia
head despondingly ; and when Alice saw her hus
band so cast down, she tried to comfort him, and
raising her weak and trembling voice, she com
menced JSTeumark's beautiful hymn, "Who only
trusts in God."
" Do you know," interrupted she, " what our
pastor told me lately about this beautiful hymn 1
George Neumark lived in Hamburgh in such great
poverty that at last he was obliged to pawn his
darling violin. But one day he met with unex
pected benefactors, who kindly aided him, and ob

THE HERB GATHERER.

203

tained him a situation. Then he was enabled to get

his violin back again, and in his joy he composed
the hymn, ' Who only trusts in God,' which he him
self sang for the first time amid tears of gratitude."
"While relating this story, Alice's own cast-down
heart rose again, and her countenance expressed
calm submission, as she came to the last line of the
hymn, "For whoso puts his trust in God, will
never be forsaken."
Presently came along the road a beautiful maiden
who carried a little bundle of clothes under her
arm. She seemed to be very tired, and her shoeless
feet were worn by the stones and thorns in many
places. When she came to the hut she stopped,
and said, " God watch over you ;" and asked in a
foreign or rather strange accent,
" Can you tell me whether there dwells near here
a man of the name of Bieder 1 "
"That is my name," replied the old man, and
immediately the stranger maiden fell on his neck
and sobbed.
" Dear uncle, my mother remembered you before
she died ; last Easter she was buried."
" Dead 1 " asked Bieder, surprised, and folded his
hands. " Great God ! then you are Therese's child ?
Tou are truly welcome."
At this Alice approached, took the maiden's hand,
and gently put back the thick curls which hung in
profusion over her face, and patted her cheek.
Then the young girl took her aunt's hand, and
begged in a soft voice,
N 2

204

THE HEBB GATHEREB.

" Oh, be my dear mother, aunt Alice ; see, I am

without shelter in this wide wide world, like a little
bird in the woods."
"For you also will our Father care," said the
good Alice ; and embracing the forsaken and desti
tute orphan, she led her into the hut to rest, and
gave her some bread and cheese. In the evening
the good couple made Susy a bed of hay and leaves ;
and, poor as this was, the maiden slept as sweetly as
though she lay on the softest down.
But Alice could not sleep for sorrow, and early in
the morning she went out of the hut, there to weep
and pray unseen, and then to seek strawberry leaves
to make some morning drink for her husband and
herself ; but for Susy she spared a drop of milk.
It is true that Alice would now have support and
help from her new daughter, but first of all there
were many things which the maiden required, and
these the troubled Alice knew not how to procure.
Poor Susy had been compelled to leave all her
linen and clothes behind her to the hard-hearted
people of the house where her mother died, through
whose long illness she owed a' great deal. It was
true that Susy was lovely and blooming as a moun
tain rose ; besides which, she had a clear, silvery
voice, and knew how to sing many beautiful songs,
which she accompanied with her guitar, but sooner
would Alice have begged for the maiden than that
she should have gained her bread in that way. But
how to obtain food for her sustenance ? The good
woman saw no means, and she forgot that One who

THE HERB GATHERER.

205

dwells on high can find a thousand ways while our

small understanding cannot see one.
Suddenly Alice heard a man's voice in the still
forest, and in another moment there came out a herb
gatherer, with his tin case upon his back. He did
not appear to remark Alice, but sang loud and dis
tinctly enough for any one to hear :
"Against Earth's painful wounds
There is a plant of power,
And he shall healing find
Who owns this little flower.
" Near Faith's peaceful garden
It grows in holy sod ;
Seek for that little plant,
'Tig called ' Trust in God.' "

Alice listened, her heart beat loud, and Faith,

strong as a rock, seemed to rise within her. She felt
ashamed of her despondency, and so, drying her
tears, she replied cheerfully to the salutations of the
wayfarer, who had now approached her.
" Do you require any of my merchandize p" asked
he of Alice, pointing to his herb basket ; but she
shook her head sadly and replied,
" Ah, my friend, the little herb that I require is
not in your basket ; there is no herb which is an
antidote for death ; and my husband will never lose
the gout until the sod covers him in his grave."
The stranger smiled in a curious manner, and re
peated the words which he had sung before.
Alice took great courage at this, and asked the

206

THE HERB GATHERER.

herb gatherer whether he had in reality a cure for

her husband's malady, and willingly promised him
the twenty kreutzer piece which she had worn
round her neck ever since the day of her Confirma
tion. The stranger went with her into the house,
where Susy had already risen and had opened the
window, and made the sick man's bed, and swept
out the dust. The herb gatherer looked kindly
at her.
" Is that your daughter ? * he asked of Alice, who
was giving him a seat which she had wiped clean
with her apron.
" No, kind sir," replied she ; " she is the child of
my sister-in-law, who lived in Bohemia ; her mother
is now dead, so she is an orphan, and only arrived
here yesterday."
All this while Susy and her uncle were looking
at the man in astonishment. Then she took the
heavy pack from off his back, and was so nimble
and active that it was quite a pleasure to look at
her. The stranger now took out of his case a green
twining plant, told Alice to boil it, and wash the
limbs of the sick man, but he would take no re
muneration, and would only stay to rest in the
cottage for an hour. Susy made great haste to
boil the plant and prepare the bandages, and when
that was done she asked what she should do next.
" Can you spin, my child ? " asked her aunt. But
the maiden shook her head. " Very well ; then I
will teach you," said Alice, and was beginning to
do so when the stranger said,

THE HERB GATHERER.

207

" I will teach the maiden an easier way to spin

than how you do it. She shall empty the full
reels sooner than even you can, good mother."
Alice smiled incredulously ; but the herb gatherer
went out, and in a little while returned with a
spinning-wheel, but fashioned in a manner that the
poor charcoal burners had never before seen. He
showed tbe attentive Susy how she must roll the
fine thread over the iron shuttle, and then he made
the young girl a present of the noisy whizzing little
machine. He also told her he would send her
another cotton merchant who would pay better for
her spinning than the other one. After this he
hastily left the little family, who saw their bene
factor disappear amongst the thick foliage of the
forest.
Susy worked from morning till night, and would
sing some Bohemian song ; and she turned the
wheel so quickly that Alice and her uncle would
gaze in astonishment, for the industrious Susy never
broke her threads. And thus some time passed ;
the herb gatherer did not return, nor could the
linen merchant who came every Saturday give them
any information, although he had sent him to them.
The sick man became better and better every day ;
very soon he was able to move his lame limbs ;
and at last, through the wonderful cure of the herb
gatherer, he became perfectly well and healthy
again.
Then he began to work and carpenter. Soon he
had made a similar wheel for Alice, and she worked

208

THE HERB GATHERER.

with her darling Susy, so that every week as they

gained more money they were enabled to put by
some groschen.
Father Bieder employed him
self in making spinning-wheels, as he succeeded so
well in his first attempt ; and so much were they
in request that he could not make them fast enough.
He was well paid for them. Soon the good people
became very prosperous by industry and economy.
And now old Alice did not like her dear adopted
daughter to sleep on straw, and she went with her
savings to the yearly fair of the nearest town,
secretly to buy a feather bed for her. But the little
sum was not enough, and the good old thing was
standing sadly considering, when suddenly she saw
the herb gatherer coming through the crowd. She
seized his hand, related to him how her husband
was healed, and thanked him a thousand times for
his kind aid ; she was just going to tell him how
industrious her dear Susy was, when he disap
peared, and she held, instead of his hand, a little
leathern purse, which contained exactly the sum of
money required to complete her purchase of the
bed. Who could describe the astonishment and no
less joy of the good Alice ! She soon bought it,
and a young countryman, whose way led past Alice's
cottage, took her home in his cart along with the
feather bed. Susy was just then sitting at the open
window, turning the swift wheel and singing one of
her native songs, as the young peasant stopped
before the cottage. He listened in astonishment
to the industrious Susy's clear song. But no

THE HERB GATHERER.

209

sooner did she observe her aunt's arrival, than she

sprang joyfully out to lend a helping hand in carry
ing the bed into the house. Peter (so was the
young man named) offered his services, but all the
time he could not take his eyes off the bright
blooming face which he saw. His horses were
obliged to stay a long time before the door, for the
grateful Alice made him come in, and at his re
quest Susy sang the song over again, in the middle
of which she had been disturbed by her aunt's
arrival. When the young peasant at last took a
slow lingering leave, he thought how happy he
might be with such a bright happy face always
with him. His father and mother were dead, and
hia fine fields and possessions always seemed to him
very solitary and empty.
In short, after a few
weeks he went in his Sunday clothes to the aged
Bieder, and asked him to give him Susy for his
wife. He was a respectable good youth, who would
make the young girl happy ; therefore he obtained
her joyful consent also to his request, on condition
that she should be allowed to take her foster
parents with her to her new home, and be able to
take care of them and reward all their love.
To this Peter willingly consented, and the wedding
took place at Easter. On the very same day on
which a year before poor Susy arrived, desolate and
disconsolate, was she taken to her pretty new house,
where a happy life awaited her. Only one thought
troubled Susy's happiness ; she was so poor that she
could not take any linen, as is the custom. Indus

210

THE HERB GATHERER.

triously as she had. worked, she had always been

obliged to sell all her linen which she had made, in
order to buy food and raiment for her foster parents
and herself. She was very much distressed at this,
and thoughtfully she buried her face in her hands.
All at once something tapped on the window panes,
and the stranger cotton merchant peeped in. But
when she looked out he was gone, and on the floor
lay six bales of the finest linen, and on a little note
attached were written these words: "A wedding
present for the industrious Susy." Whoever could
have seen the surprised bride, how she wept for
joy, and fell now on her aunt's and now on her
uncle's neck, and was blithe as a child, would have
envied poverty its happy privilege of being made
so profoundly happy by such a slight cause.
And now Susy sewed and hemmed and snipped
right heartily ; yet the merchant never came again ;
but they all thought of him as well as of the herb
gatherer with grateful hearts.
At last the wedding day arrived, and all went
well ; but when Susy came out of the church with
her handsome bridegroom, looking indescribably
beautiful, with the budding myrtle in her waving
hair, and while all the spectators were envying
Peter's good fortune in having such an industrious,
kind-hearted, and beautiful wife, suddenlyd the
herb gatherer stood before the bridal pair.
He
presented Susy with a freshly budding nosegay,
saying, "Industry, Faith, and Meekness are the
best dowry for a bride, worth more than many thou

THE HERB GATHERER.

211

sand sovereigns. This bouquet will never fade

while thou possessest these three things, and then
thou wilt be for ever happy." When he had said
this, the form of the herb gatherer dissolved into
mist, and throughout the whole assembly resounded
the name of "Eubezahl" again and again through
the air.

tgvik%x\l% ptxt $onra.

SCENE

I.

A Storm.
(Rubezahl rises from the earth and peers curiously
about him.)
Eubezahl.
OF the Giant Mountains king,
And right well known throughout the
land,
At wicked deeds my arrows fling,
And punish with a heavy hand.
After long years I come at last,
And in this world again appear,
To know how time has with it passed,
And all the novelties to hear.
Many a tale and legend odd,
Folks, I hear, have told of me ;
And if these stories have done good
Is what I've now come up to see.
Yet men, I fancy, have of late

RUBEZAHL. A PETIT DRAMA.

But sought for empty, outward show,

Making life sad through their deceit,
And spread, themselves, the seeds of woe !
Many, 'tis true, are very wise,
And know the sciences and arts ;
But do they all possess the prize
. Of conscience clear and merry hearts 1
Or they, themselves from troubles free,
To others strive to make life sweet,
And with the world at peace to be ?
Just ask them all if they know that I
The children in the age we live
Want me to come and set them right.
Before they reach the age of five
They hold grand parties late at night ;
And then if they in French excel,
They think 'tis all they need to know ;
Their native stream they scarce can tell,
And yet will trace the Niger's flow ;
A child will tell you to a hair
Of Mutius Scaevola the Great ;
If asked of Luther, they'll declare
They " have not heard of him as yet."
At that piano sits a maid,
And not one false note will she play
Knows each new piece, but I'm afraid
Her tables perfectly can't say.
And so it is now with all youth
Gone seems its sweet simplicity ;
But I myself will learn the truth,
And here folks still my power shall see.

213

214

RUBEZAHL. A PETIT DRAMA.

So now as erst I used to roam,

I'll plague, and then reward the good,
But wicked people I'll pack home,
And punish them, as right I should.
See ! here is just what I desire
An aged woman comes this way,
Seeking dry wood to make the fire,
And for her goats some grass or hay;
Two pretty children follow her.
I'll hide myself behind this bush ;
Perhaps I may the character
Pind out of these poor peoplehush !
[Rubezahl conceals himself behind a bush.
SCENE

II.

(Enter Mother and Elizabeth).

Mother.
Thank God !the storm is now quite over,
The sun shines brightly out again.
Elizabeth.
But you must have dry clothes, dear mother,
After this dreadful hurricane.
Mother.
"We have but one dress in the house,
And I am not as you so wet.
Elizabeth.
But that dress, mother, you must use,
For I am young and strong as yet.

rubezahl.a petit drama.

Mother.
"Well, let us rest, and then again
Work to increase our little store
'Gainst winter's cold and frost and rain.
Elizabeth.
Oh, dear ! that we were not so poor !
Mother.
Well say, then, would you like to be
Eich as our landlord, neighbour Ealph ?
Elizabeth.
Oh, no, for he is miserly,
And closely locked he keeps his pelf.
Mother.
If, like our parson, I could give
My child a nice and pretty home 1
Elizabeth.
But Jane's not happy, I believe,
Her face seems oft o'ercast with gloom.
Mother.
The rich Eliza at the mill,
Maybe, you envy in your mind ?
Elizabeth.
Your lesson, now, I deeply feel ;
Alas ! her mother is stone blind.
Of my complaints I now repent ;
I would not change ; and it is just
That each and all have troubles sent.
Let us but in our good God trust;
Only for thy sake may He send
Us bright and happy days to cheer.

215

216

rubezahl.a petit drama.

Mother.
Will you not then on Him depend 1
If I Eliza's mother were !
But, God be praised ! I'm strong and well,
And able still to work and spin,
And my dear children they dispel
Sad thoughts which else might rise within.
(Enter Gustave).
Gustave.
Here are ripe berries, only see !
Dear mother, they are all for you.
Mother.
Oh, no ! a part is enough for me ;
You and Lizzie must have some too.
SCENE III.
(Enter Eubezahl.)
Gustave.
Oh, mother dear ! there comes a stranger.
Mother.
Of that you need not be afraid ;
Surely for us there is no danger,
We're doing nothing wrong or bad.

Good day !

Eubezahl.
What are you doing there ?

Mother.
Collecting wood to make a fire,
For our hut is very cold and bare.

RUBEZAHL. A PETIT DRAMA.

217

EUBEZAHL.

Who are you ?

Mother.
A woman poor
With two dear children good and kind ;
And once we had a farm, good sir,
But the enemy left us naught behind ;
They stole our cow, and then they burned
All that away could not be taken.
Then to this place our steps we turned,
And five years have remained forsaken.
Eubezahl.
Are you a widow ?
Mother.
God forbid!
Eubezahl.
Does your husband, then, his money spend
On drink, when he should be buying bread 1
Mother.
Oh, no ! While Thomas here remained
He toiled and worked from morn till night ;
But war disturbed our Fatherland,
And Thomas went away to fight.
Good friend, five years and more have flown
Since I have heard if he exist ;
While we have lived here all alone,
And on my earnings small subsist.
Eubezahl.
Then now you only can believe
That he is murdered by his foes 1

218

rubezahl.

a petit drama.

Mother.
Of my last hope you me bereave ;
Ah ! strength and courage with it goes
Eubezahl.
Yet, better he slept in his grave
Than live a beggar, weak and poor ?
Mother.
Oh, that my husband I could have !
My loving heart desires no more.
Eubezahl.
Yet if, when he returned, you found
That Thomas a mere cripple was 1
Mother.
Then we have bodies strong and sound,
And Gustave now a great boy grows.
Eubezahx.
To venture here, methinks you're bold ;
Do you not fear the mountain sprite ?
Mother.
Oh, no ! for I've been always told
He never hurts folks who do right.
Elizabeth.
The gnome might come, sir, if he please ;
To see him we might e'en be glad.
Eubezahl.
Perhaps he might your troubles ease ;
Just now you seemed so very sad.
Mother.
But talking, sir, we've stayed too long,
For when approaches dim twilight,
'Tis bad to stay these rocks among.
Adieu !

RUBEZAHL. A PETIT DRAMA.

219

EUBEZAHL.

Good luck be with you, dame !

Good night !

Mother.
Ay, ay ! What our God wills to send
Is certain for our good to be.
Gustave.
If a squirrel you should find,
Will you give him, sir, to me ?
EUBEZAHL.

Are you Gustave 1

Perhaps I will.

Gustave.
I think that somewhat grim you are,
And your great club is hard ; yet, still
Of you I have not any fear.
Mother.
Now, dearest Gustave, see, my child,
Our basket's not yet full ; so come,
Let's try and quickly get it filled,
Then to the village hasten home.

SCEISTE IV.
Eubezahl.

(Alone.)

'Tis an honest mother, with children good,

And kindly hearts they have and pure ;
Now oft to such a friend I've stood,
Then helping them, am right, I'm sure.

[Exit.
o 2

220

EUBEZAHL.

A PETIT DRAMA.

(Night approaches ; enter Thomas, on crutches.)

Thomas.
I can no farther go to-night ;
So tired, I can hardly speak.
But the air is warm, and the stars are bright,
So under this rock I will lie and sleep.
By dawn, new strength my God will give
To me, to cross this mountain drear,
My last days peacefully to spend
In that quiet home I hold so dear.
'Tia true, I come with empty hand,
And cannot walkI only hobble ;
I can but idle be and spend,
I cannot earnoh dear, what trouble !
Ah, why did that ball pierce my knee t
I would that it had ta'en my life !
Then, from all pain I should be free,
And no distress to my dear wife.
A burden and a trouble ? No !
My children will their father aid,
And He who rules above, I know,
Will help us in our day of need.
But can I nothing earn ? nay, why 1
I still have hands, they're strong and free ;
Or gladly, joyfully I'd die
Could I once more my dear ones see !
[Lies down under a tree and sleeps.
Eubezahl.
'Tis he ! some spirit good, I deem,
Has sent him to this spot to rest ;
His loved ones he shall in his dream
Till, waking, he clasp them to his breast.

RUBEZAHL. A PETIT DRAMA.

221

Thomas. ( Waking. )
Help ! oh, where are my crutches gone ?
Surely some cruel sprite has come,
And robbing, left me here forlorn !
Ah, now, how can I reach my home 1
(Enter Eubezahl.)
Rubezahl.
Who's lamenting there ?
Thomas.
Ah, my good man !
Welcome a thousand times I say.
Just look, kind friend, there in the grass ;
Some villain has taken my crutches away.
Rubezahl.
Oh, the rogue ! how could he do so.
Thomas.
I am an old soldier, lamealas !
Without them I can no farther go.
Eubezahl. (Aside.)
I'll help thee, poor man, for I've plagued thee sore.
(Aloud.) Who are yon then 1 Where is your home.
Thomas.
I was badly wounded in the last war ;
Thomas I'm called, from Westphalia I come,
And my cot lies down in the valley, where
Dwell my fond wife and little ones dear.
Rubezahl.
Are you that Thomas, who, five years ago,
Was forced to go fight against his will 1

222

rubezahl.a petit drama.

Thomas.
I am that same ; do you chance to know
If my children are all safe and well 1
Eubezahl.
The daughter she was drowned in the stream,
Soon after the boy of a fever died ;
Their poor mother, like a sapless stem,
Withered away, and she sleeps by their side.
Thomas.
Alas ! alas ! thou cruel ball !
"Why through my heart didst thou not go ?
Courageously I have borne all,
But now I sink in grief and woe !
[Falls down in despair,

SCENE V.
{Enter Gustave).
Stop, little bird, come here to me,
Ely not away in terror wild.
Thomas.
What rosy cheeks he has, now see
Oh, what a pretty darling child 1
'Tis growing dark, have you no fear ?
How came you in this wood alone i
Gustave.
My mother is not far from here.
Thomas.
Ah, just his age would be my son !

BUBBZAHL. A PETIT DRAMA.

GUSTAVE.

For winter fires dry wood we gather.

Thomas.
Then, good folks, you are very poor.
GUSTAVE.

Yes, though industrious is our mother,

Tet often we're without a fire.
Thomas.
Your father can your mother aid.
Gustave.
Ah, yes, if we a father had.
Thomas.
Mo father Jwhere then is he gone ?
Gustave.
He went to fight ere I was born.
Thomas.
How strange to me do these words sound !
How all things have conspired to-day
My scattered senses to confound !
Ah, Gustave ! Lizzie ! where are they J
Mother.
Ho ! Gustave !
Thomas.
Hush ! my wife's voice I hear.
Mother.
Gustave ! where are you gone t
Gustave.
Quickly I'm coming, mother dear.

223

224

eubezahl.a petit drama.

Thomas.
Oh, if I could but creep along !
How my heart beats 'twixt joy and fear !
Gustave.
Tou should not sit so idly there,
If mother you desire to see.
Thomas.
My child, I'm lame, I cannot stir.
Gustave.
Are you 1 support yourself on me.
Thomas. [Rises.)
So, will you lead me to her now t
Ah, dare I hope, sweet thought, to her !
[Gustave supports Thomas with his armThere, now, then you can safely go ;
I'm little, but I'm strong ; look there !
{Enter Mother).
Mother.
Where are you ? Did you lose your way ?
Thomas.
Support me, child ! 'tis she, my wife !
Are my senses gone ?

Mother.
What do I see t

Elizabeth.
Our father !
Thomas.
Yes ! you're well and safe 1
Ah, then, to me my wife is spared ;
My children onoe again I see.

bubezahl.a petit drama.

Elizabeth.
Oh, joy ! our prayers have been heard.
Gustave.
Then you are father ? Please kiss me. '
Father.
Yesthee did God as an angel send.
Mother.
"Whence do you come ?
Thomas.
From a foreign land.
Ah, dearest wife ! now look on me
Helpless and sorrowful I am ;
Oh, set me down beneath this tree ;
I am a beggar, andI'm lame !
Mother.
A beggar ? nay, that cannot be ;
Six hands that hard can work are here ;
Children and wife belong to thee,
While thou hast them, thou need'st not fear.
Thomas.
Good God ! my lasting thanks receive ;
I've found them, and they love me yet ;
But lame and useless must I live,
And be a burden and a weight.
Mother.
You embitter our joy thus sadly talking,
You only need your legs for walking ;
Then help us now, and soon you'll prove,
That power you have your hands to move.

225

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RUBEZAHL. A PETIT DRAMA.

So, happy and joyful, we now will go

By the well-known path to our cot below.
Thomas.
Ah ! you have given me new life ;
Where is the basket 1 Now, dear wife
[Attempts to lift iasket
But strength is gone from me'tis plain,
To lift this basket I've no power.
Elizabeth.
I'll help you, father, push it here ;
"Wondrous ! I also try in vain !
Thomas.
You feign this, only to comfort me ?
Elizabeth.
No, dear father, I strive and strive,
But all in vain. Ah ! mother, see
The wood is golden, as I live.
Gustave.
Goldgold ! how beautiful and bright !
Thomas.
Ah, kind and good is the mountain sprite !
Surely from him this gift has come.
Mother.
A new life on us seems to dawn !
Thomas.
The cripple need no longer mourn,
How can we thank the kindly gnome.
Gustave.
Ah, sprite, to thee great thanks we owe.

rubezahl.a petit drama.

Mother.
How glad I feel, I cannot say.
Elizabeth.
But how can we take the gold away 1
Night comes, and we have far to go,
And we must lead our father dear ;
Sooner we'd leave the gold behind.
(Enter Eubezahl).
Eubezahl.
Oh, tell me now good people here,
Can you tell me my way to find 1
Mother.
Ah, whither do you go so late ?
Eubezahl.
I've travelled from a distant part,
And I am a physician great ;
'm going to Glatz to try my art
A rich man dwells there I am told;
And years ago, it now must be,
"When fighting in some battle bold,
A pistol ball went through his knee.
The wound, a quack devoid of skill
Tried, but tried in vain, to cure :
The rich man walks on crutches still,
So sent for me to try my power ;
Then with all speed I've hastened here,
And safely journeyed till to-day.
ut my coach wheel broke in the valley there,
And now on foot I must make my way.

227

228

eubezahl. a petit drama.

Thomas.
Can you cure lame folks, sir, e'en if
Several years have passed, and all
The bones and muscles have grown stiff ?
EUBEZAHL.

Friend, that is but a trifle small.

Mother
Behold, of hope another ray !
Eubezahl.
But I charge dearly for my cures.
Elizabeth.
Believe him of his pain, I pray,
And all we have, sir, shall be yours.
Eubezahl.
That would be little for my pains.
Mother.
This basket !
Thomas.
No, no ! be assured
'Tis not worth that, even were I cured,
To give him all that it contains.
Mother.
"We part with it with joy and pleasure.
Eubezahl.
What have you in the basket, say 1
Gustave.
Gold I

BUBEZAHL. A PETIT DRAMA.

229

EUBEZAHL.

And would give it all away !

like shavings old instead of treasure 1
Mother.
Ah, sir, a truly loving wife
Can have no greater joy in life
Than part with all she may possess
To help her husband in distress.
Gustave.
If you succeed I'll jump for joy.
Elizabeth.
And I will sing aloud for pleasure.
Thomas.
Though not cured, with this dear girl and boy
I'm content, for they alone are treasure.
Eubezahl. (Aside.)
Ah ! I am wondrously amazed !
Spite of my spirit-life, I feel
My envy of mankind is raised.
Friend, I will try your wound to heal.
(Aloud). And now you must your crutches throw
Ear away in God's good name ;
And very soon you'll feel, I know,
That you are no longer lame.
[Eubezahl draws forth a box of ointment and rubs
Thomas's knee.
Mother.
Ah, Eubezahl, thy priceless gold !

230

eubezahl. a petit drama.

Thomas.

This shattered limb I feelnay, hold !

New life and feeling through it bound,
Through every muscle, every bone ;
The load which weighed me to the ground,
It seems as from my body gone !
Gustave.
Ah, mother, I'll implore and pray !
Of much use surely that will be.
Thomas.
I move my foot.
Rubezahl.
Well, now then try
Try and stand alone ; now see.
Thomas.
My God ! great thanks I owe to Thee !
It has effect, and I am cured.
Mother.
Oh, sir, God's blessing on you be I
Rubezahl.
Nay, stop ! Now think of my reward ;
My balsam has done well, you see,
And for the cure you now must pay.
Elizabeth.
Here is the gold !
Mother.
'Tis yours, sir, take it all away.

RUBEZAHL. A PETIT DRAMA.

231

RUBEZAHL.

'Tis said mankind, with trouble near,

Will offer all their wealth for aid ;
But passed and gone their abject fear,
They oft forget what they have said.
Mother.
No, the gold is yours ; we would not steal.
Elizabeth.
We would not take a single grain.
Thomas.
The father's privilege I feel,
I now can work for my darlings again !
[Mother and children embrace Thomas, during which
Rubezahl changes to his own form, and slowly
disappears. All raise their hands to him.
All.
'Tis Rubezahl !oh, kind good spirit I

[the end.]

London : Moukay & Co., 13, Paternoster Row.