Master Martin was now all insistence that Friedrich should set to work

on his "Master-piece." He had himself chosen, in his workshop, the

finest, cleanest, most flawless timber, which had been stored there for

over five years, and had not a vein or a streak in it; and nobody was

to give Friedrich the slightest hand in the job except old Valentine.

More and more intensely disgusted with the whole thing as Friedrich now

was, on account of those brutes of journeymen, the thought that all his

future life hung upon this piece of work almost stifled him. The

strange sense of dread and anxiety which had developed itself in him

when Master Martin had lauded his faithful devotion to the craft, took

shape, now, more and more clearly. He felt convinced that he would come

to the most utter and shameful failure in an occupation completely

repugnant to his whole nature, filled as it was with the love of his

own art. Reinhold, and Rosa's portrait he could not drive out of his

mind; at the same time, his own branch of Art shone upon him in the

brightest splendour. Often, when the terrible sense of the full

wretchedness of the trade he was engaged in was like to overpower him

as he was working at it, he would pretend to be unwell, and hurry off

to the church of St. Sebald, where he would gaze for hours at Peter

Fischer's marvellous monument, and then cry out, like one enchanted,

"Oh, Father of Heaven!--to conceive, to execute such a work as

that--could there be anything on earth more glorious!" and then when he

had to go back to his staves and hoops, and remember that by means of

them, only, Rosa was to be won, the very devil's glowing talons seemed

to touch his heart, and he felt as if he must perish in the terrible

misery of it all. Reinhold often appeared to him in dreams, bringing to

him lovely designs, in which Rosa was worked in, and displayed now as a

flower, now as a beautifully winged angel. But there was always a

something wanting. Reinhold had forgotten to put a _heart_ in Rosa's

image; and that he added himself. _Then_ all the flowers and leaves of

the design seemed to begin moving and singing, and breathing out the

most delicious odours; and the noble metals reflected Rosa's form

as in a gleaming mirror, seeming to stretch her longing arms to her

lover--but the image would vanish in dim vapour, and the beautiful

Rosa, herself, seemed to be clasping him to her loving heart, all

blissful desire. His feelings towards the miserable coopering work grew

more and more terribly unendurable, and he went for aid and consolation

(as well as for advice) to his old master, Johannes Holzschuer. This

master allowed Friedrich to set about a little piece of work, for which

an idea had occurred to him, and for the carrying out of which, and

providing himself with the necessary gold and silver, he had saved up

the wages which Master Martin gave him, for many a day.

Thus it came about that Friedrich, who was so very pale that there was

but too much reason to believe (as he gave out) that he was suffering

from strongly-marked consumptive symptoms, scarcely ever went to Master

Martin's workshop, and that months elapsed without his having made the

very slightest progress with his master-piece, the great two-fudder

cask. Master Martin pressed him to work at least at much as his

strength would permit him, and Friedrich was at length compelled to go

once more to the hateful cutting-block, and take the broad-axe in hand

again. As he was working, Master Martin came up and looked at the

staves he had been finishing. He grew red in the face, and cried out--

"Why, Friedrich! what do you call this? A nice job and a half! Are

those staves turned out by a journeyman trying to pass as master, or by

an apprentice-boy who has only been a day or two in the shop! Bethink

yourself, man; what demon has entered itself into you? My beautiful oak

timber! The great masterpiece indeed! Clumsy, careless, goose!"

Overcome by all the hellish torments which were burning in his heart,

Friedrich could contain himself no longer. He sent the broad-axe flying

with all his force, and cried, "Master, it's all over! If it costs me

my life--if I perish in misery unnamed, I cannot go on labouring at

this wretched handicraft another minute. I am drawn to my own glorious

Art with a power which I cannot withstand. Alas! I love your Rosa

unutterably--as no other on earth can love her. It is for her sake

alone that I have gone through with this abominable work in this place.

I know I have lost her now. I shall soon die of grief for her. But I

cannot help it. I must go back to my own glorious Art, to my own dear

master, Johannes Holzschuer, whom I deserted so basely."

Master Martin's eyes shone like flaming tapers. Scarce able to

articulate for anger, he stammered out--

"What! you too! lies and cheatery! impose on _me_--talk of a 'miserable

handicraft!' Out of my sight, you shameless scoundrel--get out from

here!" with which he took Friedrich by the shoulders and chucked him

out of the workshop.

The derisive laughter of the other journeymen and the apprentices

followed him. But old Valentine folded his hands, looked thoughtfully

at the ground, and said, "I always saw that good fellow had something

very different in his head from casks."

Frau Martha cried a great deal, and her children lamented over

Friedrich, who used to play with them, and bring them many a nice piece

of sweet-stuff.

CONCLUSION.

Notwithstanding Master Martin's anger with Reinhold and Friedrich, he

could not but admit that, with them, all happiness and joy had fled

from the workshop. His new journeymen caused him nothing but vexation

and annoyance every day. He had to give himself trouble over every

trifling detail of the work, and had difficulty in getting the very

smallest matter done as he wished it. Wholly worn out with the worries

of the day, he would often sigh, "Ah, Reinhold! ah, Friedrich! how I

wish you had not deceived me so shamefully! Oh that you had only gone

on being doughty coopers, and not turned out to be something else!"

This went so far, that he often thought of giving up business

altogether.

He was sitting one evening in a gloomy frame of mind of this

description, when Herr Jacobus Paumgartner, and with him Master

Johannes Holzschuer, came in unexpectedly. He felt sure their visit

related to Friedrich, and in fact Paumgartner soon led the conversation

to the subject of him, and Master Holzschuer began to extol him in

every possible way, stating his opinion that with Friedrich's talents

and diligence he would not only become a first-class goldsmith, but

actually tread in Peter Fischer's footsteps as a modeller of eminence.

Then Herr Paumgartner set to work to vehemently inveigh against the

undeserved treatment that the poor fellow had received from Master

Martin, and they both of them urged the latter that, if Friedrich

should turn out a goldsmith and modeller, he should give him Rosa to

wife, provided she should be really fond of him. Master Martin allowed

them both to finish what they had to say; then he took off his cap and

answered with a smile, "Worthy sirs, you speak strongly in favour of

the lad, who has--all the same--deceived me in a shameful manner. I

forgive him that, however, but you must not expect me to alter my firm

decision, on his account. It is not the slightest use asking me to give

him my Rosa--completely out of the question."

Just then, Rosa came in, pale as death, with eyes red from crying, and,

in silence, placed glasses and wine on the table.

"Very well!" said Holzschuer; "then I suppose I shall be obliged to let

Friedrich have his way, and leave this place altogether. He has just

finished a beautiful piece of workmanship at my atelier, which--if you

will allow him, Master Martin--he wishes to offer to Rosa as a I; Bake.

I have got it with me; look at it."

He produced a small silver goblet, beautifully and artistically

ornamented all over, and handed it to Master Martin, who was a great

admirer and "amateur" of such things. He took it, and looked at it on

all sides with great admiration; in fact it would have been difficult

to meet with a more beautiful piece of silver-work than this little

vessel, where lovely vine-branches, with tendrils, interwoven with

roses, were twining in all directions, whilst from among the grapes and

the roses, beautiful angels were peeping, and others, embracing, graven

inside it, on its gilt sides and bottom; so that when wine was poured

into it, those angels seemed to hover up and down, in charming play.

"A very pretty thing indeed!" Master Martin said. "Beautiful work about

it! I shall be glad to take it, if Friedrich will allow me to give him

twice its worth in good gold pieces."

So saying, Master Martin filled the cup with wine, and set it to his

lips.

Here the door opened gently, and Friedrich, with the deadly pain of

parting for ever from her he loved best on earth in his white face,

came in at it. As soon as Rosa saw him, she gave a bitter cry of "Oh,

my own dearest Friedrich!" and threw herself half-fainting on his

breast.

Master Martin set the cup down, and when he saw Rosa in Friedrich's

arms, he opened wide eyes, as if he were seeing ghosts. Then he took up

the cup again without a word, and looked down into it. "Rosa," he cried

in a loud voice, rising from his chair, "do you really love Friedrich?"

"Ah!" said Rosa in a whisper, "I cannot hide it any longer--I love him

as my life! My heart was broken when you sent him away."

"Take your wife to your heart then, Friedrich, Yes, yes, I say

it--_your wife_," Master Martin cried out.

Paumgartner and Holzschuer looked at each other, lost in amazement; but

Master Martin, holding the cup in his hands, went on, and said, "Oh

Father of Heaven! has not everything turned out exactly as the old lady

prophesied it should? 'A House resplendent and gleaming he shall to thy

dwelling bring; streams of sweet savour flowing therein; beauteous

angels sing full sweetly; he whom thy heart goeth forth to needless to

ask of thy father, this is thy Bridegroom beloved!' Oh fool that I have

been! this is the bright little House! here are the angels, the

bridegroom! Aha! gentlemen, my friends and patrons--my son-in-law is

found!"

Whosoever has at any time been under the spell of an evil dream, and

thought he was lying in the deep, black darkness of the grave, and then

has suddenly awakened in the bright spring-time, all perfume, sunshine

and song, and she who is dearest to him on earth has come and put her

arms about him, while he looked up into the heaven of her beautiful

face--that person will understand how Friedrich felt--will comprehend

the exuberance of his blissfulness. Unable to utter a word, he held

Rosa fast in his arms as if he would never let her go, till she gently

extricated herself from his embrace, and led him to her father. He then

found words, and cried:

"Oh, dear master, is this really true, then? Do you give me Rosa for my

wife, and may I go back to my own art?"

"Yes, yes, believe it!" answered Master Martin. "What else is there

that I can do? You have fulfilled my mother's prophecy, and your

masterpiece will never be finished."

Friedrich smiled, transfigured with happiness, and said: "No, dear

master, you will allow me to finish my masterpiece, and then I will go

back to my smelting-furnace. For I should enjoy finishing my cask, as

my last piece of coopering-work."

"So let it be then, my dear, good son," cried Master Martin, with eyes

sparkling with joy. "Finish your masterpiece, and then, for the

wedding!"

Friedrich kept his word. He duly finished his two-fudder cask, and all

the masters averred that it would be hard to meet with a prettier piece

of work; at which Master Martin was highly delighted, and thought that,

all things considered, heaven could scarcely have awarded him a better

son-in-law.

The wedding-day had come at last. Friedrich's cask-masterpiece, full of

noble wine, and garlanded with flowers, stood on the house-floor. The

Masters of the craft, headed by Herr Paumgartner, duly arrived, with

their wives, followed by the Master-Goldsmiths. The procession was just

setting out from St. Sebald's church, where the wedding was to be, when

a blast of trumpets sounded in the streets, and horses were neighing

and stamping in front of Master Martin's house. He hastened to the

balcony window, and there he saw Herr von Spangenberg drawing up, in

front of the house, in festal array. A few yards behind him rode a

young cavalier, a grand-looking young gentleman, on a spirited charger,

with a sword at his side, and tall plumes waving in his barret-cap,

which sparkled with jewels. At the cavalier's side Master Martin saw a

most beautiful lady, also splendidly attired, and riding a palfrey as

white as new-fallen snow. Pages and servants in fine liveries formed a

circle about them. The trumpets ceased to sound, and old Baron von

Spangenberg cried out, "Ha, ha! Master Martin. I am not come here on

account of your cellar or your gold-ingots, but because it is Rosa's

wedding-day. Will you let me come in, dear Master Martin?"

Master Martin, remembering what he had said that night so long ago, was

somewhat put out, but hastened down to welcome the party. The old Baron

dismounted, and came in, with courteous greetings. Pages hurried up,

offering their arms to help the young lady to dismount; her cavalier

gave her his hand, and followed the old Baron. But as soon as Master

Martin looked upon the young cavalier, he started back three paces,

clapped his hands and cried, "Good heavens! 'tis Conrad!"

The cavalier smiled, and said, "Yes, yes, Master Martin, I am your

journeyman Conrad. You must pardon me for having given you that nasty

wound. By rights, dear master, I ought to have sent you to kingdom

come; you must see that yourself--however, things have all turned out

differently."

Master Martin, in some confusion, answered that he "thought it was just

as well that he had _not_ been sent to 'kingdom come,' and that he

hadn't much minded the little bit of cut with the broad-axe."

As Master Martin now entered with his new guests the chamber where the

bridal-pair were, with the others, everybody acclaimed delight at the

beauty of the lady, for she was so exactly like the bride that she

might have been her twin-sister. The cavalier went up to the bride

courteously, saying, "Beautiful Rosa, I hope you will permit Conrad to

be present at your wedding. You are no longer vexed with the wild

thoughtless fellow who so nearly cost you a great sorrow?"

As the bride, the bridegroom, and Master Martin looked from one to

another in utter perplexity, the old Baron cried out, "Well, well!

suppose I must help you out of your dream. This is my son, Conrad, and

there is his beautiful wife, whose name is Rosa, the same as the

bride's. Remember, Master Martin, our conversation, when I asked you if

you would refuse to give me your Rosa even to my son. It had a special

purpose. The boy was over head and ears in love with your Rosa. He got

me persuaded to throw all consideration to the winds, and agree to act

as his mediator--his go-between. But when I told him how you had shown

me the door, he went and sneaked into your service in the most foolish

way, as a cooper, to gain Rosa's heart, with the view, as I suppose, of

carrying her off from you. Well! you cured him with that swinging blow

you gave him on the back, and thanks to you for that, inasmuch as he

has found a noble lady, who may perhaps be really the Rosa he had in

his heart from the beginning."

Meanwhile the lady had saluted the bride with the gentlest courtesy,

and placed round her neck a rich pearl-necklace, as a wedding-gift.

"Look, dear Rosa," she said, taking some withered flowers from amongst

the fresh ones she wore on her breast, "those are the flowers which you

once gave to my Conrad as a prize of victory. He kept them faithfully

till he saw me. But then he was false to you, and let me have them.

Don't be angry."

Rosa, blushing deeply, and casting her eyes modestly down, answered,

"Ah! my lady, how can you speak _so_? He never could have cared for

_me_, certainly. _You_ were his love alone; and because I happen to be

called Rosa, too, and am--as these gentlemen say--a little like you, he

made love to me, thinking all the time of you."

The procession was about to start for the second time, when a young

gentleman came in, dressed in the Italian fashion, all in slashed black

velvet, with a fine gold chain and a collar of rich lace.

"Oh, my Reinhold," cried Friedrich, and fell upon his neck; and the

bride and Master Martin, too, rejoiced, and cried out, "Here is our

beloved Reinhold come!"

"Did I not say, my dearest friend," said Reinhold, cordially returning

the embraces, "that everything would turn out gloriously for you after

all? Let me celebrate your wedding day with you. I have come a long

distance to do so. And as an everlasting memorial, hang up in your

house the picture which I painted for you, and which I have brought

with me." He called without, and two servants came in carrying a large

painting, in a magnificent gold frame, representing Master Martin in

his workshop, with his journeymen, Reinhold, Friedrich, and Conrad, at

work on the great cask, with Rosa just come in at the door. Everybody

was amazed at the truthfulness and the splendid colouring of this work

of art.

"Ah," said Friedrich, "_that_ is _your_ cooper's masterpiece. Mine is

downstairs. But I shall turn out another."

"I know," said Reinhold, "and you are a fortunate man; stick to your

own art; very probably it is better suited to domesticity and the like,

than mine."

At the wedding dinner Friedrich sat between the two Rosas, with Master

Martin opposite to him, between Reinhold and Conrad. Paumgartner filled

Friedrich's goblet to the brim with noble wine, and drank to the health

of Master Martin and his grand journeymen. The goblet went round, and

first Baron von Spangenburg, and after him all the worthy masters

drained it to the same toast.

When Sylvester had finished his reading, the friends were unanimous in

their opinion that the tale was worthy of the Serapion Club, and they

particularly admired the pleasingness of the general tone which

characterised it.

"I suppose," said Lothair, "that I am fated always to be the one to

pick a hole or two. But I can't help it. To my mind, Master Martin

smacks too much of his origin; I mean, of the picture which suggested

him. Sylvester, inspired by our great Kolbe's painting, has shown us a

splendid collection of other pictures; and, though the colouring of

them is delightful, still, they are nothing but pictures; they never

could become situations, in living movement, as the narrative of the

drama demands that they should do. Conrad, with _his_ Rosa, and

Reinhold as well, come in at the end merely that Friedrich's wedding

feast may be pleasant and proper, as it ought to be. On the whole--as

far as Conrad is concerned--if I did not know your simpleness of heart,

Sylvester--if you had not, all through your tale, striven with good

success to be always true and straight-forward, well! I should have

been inclined to say that--in your Conrad--you had wished to be

ironical over those wondrous characters who, in many of our modern

novels, play leading parts--a sort of hash-up of loutishness,

'_galanterie_,' barbarism, and sentimentality who call themselves

'chivalrous,' but of whom, I fancy, there never was a prototype, any

more than of those 'blusterers' whom Veit Weber and his followers used

to portray, knocking everybody into minced meat, right and left, on

every occasion."

Vincent said: "You have brought in the 'Berseker fury' certainly, with

admirable effect. But it is unpardonable in you to have allowed a

nobleman's back to be blued and blacked by the hoop of a cask, without

the blue and blacked aristocrat having broken the head of the dealer of

the blow. He might have begged his pardon politely afterwards, or

applied an Arcanum which would have mended his head in a moment; after

which he would have been aware of a distinct increase in his wisdom.

The only gentleman whom you can quote as a prototype is the valiant

knight Don Quixote, who got many a sound licking, notwithstanding his

magnanimity, braggery, and chivalry."

"Blame as much as you please," said Sylvester, laughing. "I leave

myself entirely in your hands; but let me say that where I find

consolation is in the verdicts of those charming ladies to whom I read

my 'Master Martin,' and who expressed thorough delight with the whole

affair, and overwhelmed me with praise."

"Praise of that sort, from beautiful lips," said Ottmar, "certainly is

wholly irresistible, and capable of leading many a romancer into

wondrous follies, and scriptorial capers of every kind; but, if I am

not mistaken, Lothair promised to finish this evening of ours with one

of the productions of his fantastic dreamery."

"Yes," answered Lothair. "Recollect that I undertook to write a second

story for my sister's children, and to be less wild, and more peaceable

and 'childlike,' than I was in 'Nutcracker and the King of Mice.' The

story is here, and you shall hear it."

Lothair then read:--

THE STRANGER CHILD.

BARON VON BRAKEL OF BRAKELHEIM.

There was once a noble gentleman named The Baron Thaddeus von Brakel,

who lived in the little village of Brakelheim, which he had inherited

from his deceased father, the old Baron von Brakel, and which,

consequently, was his property. The four rustics, who were the other

inhabitants of the village, called him "your Lordship," although, like

themselves, he went about with his hair badly combed, and it was only

on Sundays when he went to the neighbouring country town to church,

with his lady and his two children (whose names were Felix and

Christlieb)--that he substituted for the coarse cloth jacket, which he

wore at other times, a fine green coat and a scarlet waistcoat with

gold braid, which became him well. The same rustic neighbours, when any

one chanced to ask, "How shall I find my way to the Baron von

Brakel's?" were wont to reply: "Go straight on through the village, and

up the hill where those birches are; his Lordship's castle is there."

Now everybody knows that a castle is a great and lofty building, with a

number of windows and doors, to say nothing of towers and glittering

weathercocks; but nothing of this sort could be discovered on the hill

where the birches were, all that was to be seen there being a

commonplace little ordinary house, with a few small windows, which you

could hardly see anything of, till you were close upon it. Now it is

often the case that, at the portal of a grand castle, one suddenly

halts, and--being breathed upon by the icy air which streams out of it,

and glared at by the lifeless eyes of the strange sculptured figures

which are fixed, like fearful warders, on the walls--loses all desires

to go in, preferring to turn away. But this was by no means the case,

as regarded Baron von Brakel's abode. For, first of all, the beautiful

graceful birches, when one came to them, would bend their leafy

branches like arms stretched out, to greet him, their rustling leaves

whispering a "Welcome, welcome among us!" And when one reached the

house, it seemed as if charming voices were calling, in dulcet tones,

out of the bright, windows, and everywhere from among the thick dark

leafage of the vine which covered the walls up to the roof: "Come,

come, and rest, thou dear weary wanderer; here all is comfort and

hospitality." This was also confirmed by the swallows, twittering

merrily in and out of their nests; and the stately old stork looked

down, gravely and wisely, from the chimney, and said: "I have passed my

summers in this place now for many and many a year, and I know no

better lodging in all the world; if it weren't for my inborn love of

travel, which I can't control--if it weren't so very cold here in the

winter, and wood so dear--I should never stir from the spot." Thus

charming and delightful, although not a castle, was Baron von Brakel's

house.

VISITORS OF DISTINCTION.

Madame von Brakel got up very early one morning, and baked a cake, into

which she put a great many more almonds and raisins than even into her

Easter cake, for which reason it had a much more delicious odour than

that one itself had. While this was in progress, the Baron von Brakel

thoroughly dusted and brushed his green coat and his red waistcoat, and

Felix and Christlieb were dressed in the very best clothes they

possessed. The Baron said to them: "You mustn't run about in the wood

to-day, as you generally do, but sit still in the room, that you may

look neat and nice when your distinguished uncle comes!"

The sun had emerged, bright and smiling, from the clouds, and was

darting golden beams in at the window; out in the wood the morning

breeze blew fresh, and the finch, the siskin, and the nightingale were

all pouring out their hearts in joy, and warbling the loveliest songs

in chorus. Christlieb was sitting silent, deep in thought, at the

table, now and then smoothing and arranging the bow of her pink sash,

now and then industriously striving to go on with her knitting, which,

somehow, would by no means answer that morning. Felix, into whose hands

papa had put a fine picture-book, looked away over the tops of the

pages towards the beautiful Birchwood, where, every other morning but

this, he might jump about for an hour or two to his heart's content.

"Oh! isn't it jolly out there!" sighed he to himself; and when, in

addition, the big yard-dog, Sultan by name, came barking and bounding

before the window, dashing away a short distance in the direction of

the wood, coming back again, and barking and growling afresh, as if he

were saying to Felix, "Aren't you coming to the wood to-day? What on

earth are you doing in that stuffy room?" Felix couldn't contain

himself for impatience. "Oh, darling mamma, do just let me go out, only

for a little!" he cried; but Madame von Brakel answered, "No, no, stay

in the room, like a good boy. I know very well how it will be; if you

go, Christlieb must go too, and then away you'll both scamper, helter

skelter, through brush and briar, up into the trees. And then, back

you'll come, all hot and smirched, and your uncle will say, 'What ugly

country children are these? I am sure no Brakels, be they big or

little, can ever be like that.'"

Felix clapped the book to in a rage, and said, as the tears of

disappointment came into his eyes, "If our grand uncle talks of ugly

country children, I'm sure he never can have seen Peter Vollrad or

Annie Hentschel, or any of the children in the village here, for I know

there couldn't be prettier children anywhere than they are." "I'm sure

of that," said Christlieb, as if suddenly waking from a dream; "and

isn't Maggy Schulz a beautiful child too, although she hasn't anything

like as pretty ribbons as mine." "Do not talk such stupid nonsense,"

said their papa, "you don't understand what your uncle means, in so

saying."

All further representations to the effect that just this day, of all

others, it was so very glorious in the wood were of no avail, Felix and

Christlieb had to stay in the room, and this was all the more painful

because the company cake, which was on the table, gave out the most

delicious odours, and yet might not be cut into until their uncle's

arrival. "Oh! if he would but come! if he would but only come!" both

the children cried, and almost wept with impatience. At last a vigorous

trampling of horses became audible, and a carriage appeared, which was

so brilliant and so richly covered with golden ornamentation, that the

children were unspeakably amazed, for they had never beheld the like of

it before. A tall and very thin man glided by help of the arm of the

footman, who opened the carriage door, into the arms of Baron von

Brakel, to whose cheek he twice gently laid his own, and whispered

mincingly, "_Bon jour_, my dear cousin; now, no ceremony, I implore!"

Meanwhile the footman had also aided a short stout lady, with very red

cheeks, and two children, a boy and a girl, to glide down to earth from

the carriage (which he performed with much dexterity), so that each of

them came to their feet on the ground.

When they were all thus safely deposited, Felix and Christlieb came

forward (as they had been duly prepared by mamma and papa to do),

seized each a hand of the tall thin man, and said, kissing the same,

"We are very glad you are come, dear noble uncle;" then they did the

same with the hands of the stout lady, and said, "We are very glad you

are come, dear noble aunt;" then they went up to the children, but

stood before them quite dumfounded, for they had never seen children of

the sort before. The boy had on long pantaloons, a little jacket of

scarlet cloth covered all over with golden knots and embroidery, and a

little bright sabre at his side; while on his head was a curious red

cap with a white feather, from under which he peeped shyly and

bashfully with his yellow face, and his bleared, heavy eyes. The girl

had on a white dress--very much like Christlieb's, but with a frightful

quantity of ribbons and tags--and her hair was most curiously frizzed

up into knots, and twisted upon the top of her head, where there was,

besides, a little shining coronet.

Christlieb plucked up courage, and was going to take the little girl's

hand; but she snatched it away in a hurry, and put on such an angry

tearful face, that Christlieb was quite frightened, and let her alone.

Felix wanted to have a closer look at the boy's pretty sabre, and put

out his hand to it, but the youngster began to cry, "My sabre, my

sabre, he's going to take my sabre!" and ran to the thin man, behind

whom he hid himself. Felix grew red in the face, and said, much

annoyed: "_I_ don't want to take your sabre--young stupid!"

The last two words were murmured between his teeth, but Baron von

Brakel seemed to have heard all, and was much put out about it, for he

fingered his waistcoat nervously, and said, "Oh, Felix!" The stout lady

said, "Adelgunda! Herrmann! the children are doing you no harm; do not

be so silly." The thin gentleman saying, "They will soon make

acquaintance," took Madam von Brakel by the hand, and conducted her to

the house. Baron von Brakel followed him with the stout lady, to whose

skirts Adelgunda and Herrmann clung. Christlieb and Felix came after

them.

"The cake will be cut now," Felix whispered to his sister. "Oh, yes!

oh, yes! yes!" answered she delighted. "And then we'll be off into the

wood," continued Felix. "And not bother more about these stupid

stranger things," added Christlieb. Felix cut a caper; and then they

went into the room. Adelgunda and Herrmann might not have any of the

cake, because their papa and mamma said it was not good for them; so

each of them had a little biscuit, which the footman had to produce

from a bag which he had brought. Felix and Christlieb munched bravely

at the substantial piece of cake which their dear mamma had given to

each, and enjoyed themselves.

THE FURTHER PROGRESS OF THE VISIT OF THE

DISTINGUISHED RELATIVES.

The thin gentleman, whose name was Cyprianus von Brakel, was first

cousin to the Baron Thaddeus von Brakel, but a personage of far greater

distinction. For, besides bearing the title of count, he wore upon

every one of his coats--aye, even on his dressing-gown--a great silver

star. Thus it had happened that when, about a year before, he had paid

a flying visit one afternoon to his cousin, Baron Thaddeus--but alone

that time, without the stout lady (who was his wife) and without the

children Felix had said to him, "Please tell me, uncle, have you been

made _king_ now?" For Felix had seen a picture of a king in his

picture-book with just such a star on his breast, and naturally thought

his uncle was one, since he wore this mark of royalty. His uncle had

laughed much at the question on that occasion, and replied, "No, dear

child, I am not the king, but I am the king's most faithful servant and

minister, who rules over a great many people. If you belonged to the

line of the Counts of Brakel, perhaps you might one day wear a star

like this one of mine. As it is, you are only a simple 'von'--a baron,

and cannot expect to come to very much."

Felix did not understand his uncle in the slightest, and his father

thought it did not much matter whether he did or not. The uncle told

his fat lady how Felix had thought he was the king; on which she

ejaculated, "Sweet, delightful, _touching_ innocence!"

And now Felix and Christlieb had to come forward from the window, where

they had been eating their cake with much kickering and laughter. Their

mother wiped the cake-crumbs and raisin-remnants from their lips, and

they were handed over to their gracious uncle and aunt, who kissed

them, with loud ejaculations of, "Oh, sweet and darling nature! oh

rural simplicity!" and placed big cornets of paper in their hands.

Tears came to the eyes of Baron Thaddeus von Brakel, and to those of

his wife, over this condescension of their grand kinsfolk. Meanwhile

Felix had opened his paper-cornet, and found in it bonbons, at which he

set to work to munch vigorously, in which Christlieb followed his

example.

"My boy! my boy!" cried his gracious uncle, "that is not the way to do

it; you will destroy your teeth! You must suck them gently till the

sugar dissolves in your mouth." But Felix laughed, and said, "Gracious

uncle! do you think I am a baby, and haven't got teeth to bite them

with?" With which he put a bonbon in his mouth and gave it such a bite

that everything rattled and rang. "Delicious naivety!" the fat lady

cried. The uncle agreed; but drops of perspiration stood on Baron

Thaddeus von Brakel's forehead. He was ashamed of Felix's lack of

polish; and the mother whispered to the boy hurriedly, "Don't make such

a clattering with those teeth of yours, ill-bred boy!" This put poor

Felix into a state of utter consternation, for he didn't know he was

doing anything wrong. He took the half-eaten bonbon out of his mouth,

put it into the paper parcel again, and handed the whole thing back to

his uncle, saying, "Take your sugar away with you again!--that's all I

care about, if I mayn't eat it." Christlieb, accustomed to follow

Felix's example in all things, did the same with _her_ paper-cornet.

This was too much for poor Baron Thaddeus, who cried out, "Ah! my

honoured and gracious cousin! do not be annoyed with the silliness of

those simple children. Really, in the country, and in our straitened

circumstances, alas! who could bring up children in the style in which

you have brought up yours?" Count Cyprianus smiled a gracious smile as

he glanced at Herrmann and Adelgunda. They had long since finished

eating their biscuit, and were now sitting as mum as mice upon their

chairs, without the slightest motion of either their faces or their

limbs. The fat lady smiled too, and lisped out, "Really, dear cousin,

the education of our children lies nearer our hearts than anything in

the world." She made a sign to Count Cyprianus, who immediately turned

to Herrmann and Adelgunda, and asked them all sorts of questions, which

they answered with the utmost readiness. The questions were about

towns, rivers, and mountains, many thousands of miles off, and having

the oddest names; also they could tell what every sort of animal was

like, which was to be found in the remotest quarters of the globe. Then

they spoke of plants, trees, and shrubs, just as if they had seen them

themselves, and eaten of the fruits. Herrmann gave a minute description

of all that had happened at a great battle three hundred years ago, or

more, and was able to cite the names of all the Generals who had taken

part in it. At length Adelgunda even spoke of the stars, and stated

that there were all sorts of beasts, and curious figures, in the sky.

This made Felix quite frightened and uneasy; he got close to his

mother, and whispered, "Ah, mamma! dearest mamma! what is all that

nonsense that they're blabbering about?" "Hold your tongue, stupid

boy!" his mother replied. "Those are the Sciences."

Felix held his peace.

"Astonishing!" cried Baron Thaddeus. "Quite unparalleled! at their time

of life!" And Fran von Brakel sighed out, "Oh, Jemini! what little

angels! What in the world is to become of _our_ little ones, out in the

country here!"

Baron Thaddeus now joining in his wife's lamentations, Count Cyprianus

comforted their hearts, by promising to send them, shortly, a man of

much erudition, and specially skilled in the education of children.

Meanwhile the beautiful carriage had driven up to the door, and the

"jaeger" came in with two great bandboxes, which Herrmann and Adelgunda

took and handed to Felix and Christlieb. Herrmann, making a polite bow,

said, "Are you fond of playthings, _mon cher_?--here I have brought you

some of the finest kind." Felix hung his head. He felt melancholy; he

did not know why. He held the bandbox in his hands, without expressing

any thanks, and said in a murmur, "I'm not '_mon cher_,' and I'm not

'you'; I'm 'thou.'" And Christlieb was nearer crying than laughing,

although the box which Adelgunda had handed her was giving forth the

most delightful odours, as of delicious things to eat. The dog Sultan,

Felix's faithful friend and darling, was dancing and barking, according

to his wont; but Herrmann was so frightened at him that he hid himself

in a corner and began to cry. "He's not touching _thee_," Felix cried.

"He's only a dog. What art thou howling and screaming about? You know

all about the most terrible wild beasts in the world, don't you?--and

even if he were going to set upon you, haven't you your sword on?"

But Felix's words were of no avail. Herrmann went on howling till the

servant had to take him in his arms and bear him off to the carriage.

Adelgunda, suddenly infected by her brother's terror--or heaven knows

from what other cause!--also began to scream and howl, which so

affected poor Christlieb that _she_ began to cry too. Amid this yelling

and screaming of the children, Count Cyprianus von Brakel took his

departure from Brakelheim; and so terminated the visit of those

distinguished relations.

THE NEW PLAYTHINGS.

When the carriage containing Count Cyprianus von Brakel and his family

had rolled down the hill, Herr Thaddeus quickly threw off his green

coat and his red waistcoat; and when he had, as quickly, put on his

loose jacket, and passed his big comb two or three times through his

hair, he drew a long breath, stretched himself, and cried, "God be

thanked!" The children, too, got out of their Sunday clothes, and felt

happy and light. "To the wood! to the wood!" cried Felix, executing

some of his highest jumps.

"But don't you want to see what Herrmann and Adelgunda have brought you

before you set off?" said their mother. And Christlieb, who had been

contemplating the boxes with longing eyes even while her clothes were

being changed, thought that _that would_ be a good thing to do first,

and that it would be plenty of time to go to the wood afterwards. Felix

was very hard to convince of this. He said, "What that can be of any

consequence can that stupid pump-breeked creature have brought us?--and

his ribbony sister into the bargain? About the 'sciences,' as you call

them, he clatters away as finely as you please. He talks about bears

and lions, and tells you how to take elephants, and then he's afraid of

my dear dog Sultan; has a sword on, and goes and crawls under the

table!--a nice sort of sportsman _he_ is!'

"Ah, dear, good Felix! just let us see, for a minute or two, what's

inside the boxes." Thus prayed Christlieb; and as Felix always did

anything he could to please her, he at once gave up the idea of being

off to the wood immediately, and patiently sat down with her at the

table on which the boxes were. The mother opened them; and then!--oh!

my very dear readers! you have all been so happy when, at the time of

the yearly fair, or at all events at Christmas, your parents and your

friends flooded you with presents of every delightful kind. Remember

how you danced for joy when pretty soldiers, and little fellows with

barrel-organs, beautifully-dressed dolls, delightful picture-books, and

all the rest, lay and stood before you. Such great delight as was then

yours, Felix and Christlieb now experienced. For a really splendid

assortment of the loveliest toys came out of those boxes, and all sorts

of charming things to eat as well; so that the children clapped their

hands again and again, crying, "Oh, how nice that is!" One paper parcel

of bonbons, however, Felix laid aside with contempt; and when

Christlieb begged him not to throw the glassy sugar out of the window,

as he was going to do, he gave up that idea, and only chucked some of

the bonbons to Sultan, who had come in wagging his tail. Sultan snuffed

at them, and then turned his back on them disdainfully.

"Do you see, Christlieb," Felix cried, "Sultan won't have anything to

do with the wretched stuff."

But, on the whole, none of the toys caused Felix such satisfaction as a

certain little sportsman, who, when a little string which stuck out

beneath his jacket was pulled, put his gun to his shoulder and fired at

a target which was stuck up three spans in front of him. Next to him in

his affections stood a little fellow, who made bows and salaams, and

tinkled on a little harp when you turned a handle. But what pleased him

more than all those things was a gun made of wood, and a hunting

hanger, of wood also, and silvered over; also a beautiful hussar's

busby and a sabretasche. Christlieb was equally delighted with a finely

dressed doll and a set of charming furniture. The children forgot all

about the woods, and enjoyed themselves over their playthings till

quite late in the evening. They then went to their beds.

WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE NEW PLAYTHINGS IN THE WOOD.

Next day the children began where they had left off the night before;

that is to say, they got out the boxes, took forth the toys, and amused

themselves with them in many ways. Just as had been the case the day

before, the sun shone brightly and kindly in at the windows; the

birches, greeted by the sighing morning breeze, whispered and rustled;

the birds rejoiced in loveliest songs of joy. Felix's heart was full of

his sportsman, his harper, his gun, and sabretasche.

"I'll tell you what it is," he cried; "it's much nicer outside! Come,

Christlieb, let's be off to the woods!"

Christlieb had just undressed her big doll, and was going to put its

clothes on again, a matter of the greatest moment and interest to her,

for which reason she would rather not have gone out just then, and

said, in a tone of entreaty, "Hadn't we better stay here and play a

little longer, Felix dear?"

"I'll tell you what well do, Christlieb; we'll take the best of our

toys out to the woods with us. I'll put on my hanger, and sling the gun

over my shoulder; and then, you see, I shall be a regular sportsman.

The little hunter and the harper can come with me, and you can take

your big doll and the best of your other things with you. Come along,

let's be off."

Christlieb hastened to dress her doll as quickly as possible, and then

they both made off to the wood with their playthings. There they

established themselves in a nice, grassy place; and after they had

played for a while, and Felix was making his harper tinkle his little

tune, Christlieb said, "Do you know, Felix, that harper of yours

doesn't play at all nicely. Just listen how wretched it sounds out here

in the wood, that eternal 'ting-ting, plang-plang.' The birds peep down

from the trees as though they were disgusted with that stupid musician

who insists on accompanying them." Felix turned the handle more and

more strenuously, and at length cried, "I think you're right,

Christlieb. What the little fellow plays sounds quite horrible. I'm

quite ashamed to see those thrushes there looking down at me with such

wise eyes. He must make a better job of it." With which Felix screwed

away at the handle with such force that crack! crack! the whole box on

which the harp-man stood flew into a thousand splinters, and his arms

fell down broken.

"Oh, oh!" Felix cried. "Ah! poor little harper!" sighed Christlieb.

Felix looked at the broken toy for a minute or two, and then said,

"Well, he was a stupid, senseless chap, after all. He played terribly

poor music, and made faces, and bowed and scraped like our cousin

Pump-breeks;" and he shied the harp-player as far as he could into the

thicket. "What I like is my sportsman here," he went on to say. "He

makes a bull's-eye every time he fires over and over again." And he

kept on making him score a long succession of bull's-eyes accordingly.

When this had gone on for some time, however, Felix said, "It's stupid,

all the same, that he should always make bull's-eyes; so very

unsportsmanlike, you know--papa says so. A real sportsman has got to

shoot deer, hares, and so forth, running. I can't have this chap going

on aiming at a target; mustn't be any more of it; one gets weary of it;

won't do." And Felix broke off the target which was fixed up in front

of the shooting-man. "Now then," he cried, "fire away into the open."

But it was in vain that he pulled at the thread; the little man's arms

hung limp and motionless; the gun rose no more to his shoulder--his

shooting was at an end.

"Ha! ha!" Felix cried; "you could shoot at your target indoors; but out

in the woods here, where the sportsman's home is, you can't, eh? I

suppose you're afraid of dogs, too; and if one were to come you would

take to your heels, gun and all, as cousin Pump-breeks did with his

sword, wouldn't you? ugh! you stupid, useless dunderhead;" with which

Felix shied him into the bushes after the harp-man.

"Come, let's run about a bit," he said to Christlieb. "Ah, yes, let

us," said she; "this lovely doll of mine shall run with us too; that

will be fun."

So Felix and Christlieb took each an arm of the doll, and off they set

in full career, through the bushes, down the brae, and on and on till

they came to a small lake, engarlanded with water-plants, which was on

their father's property, and where he sometimes shot wild-duck. Here

they came to a stand, and Felix said, "Suppose we wait here a little. I

have a gun now, you know, and perhaps I may hit a duck among the

rushes, like father."

At that moment Christlieb screamed out, "Oh! just look at my doll;

what's the matter with her?"

Indeed, that poor thing was in a miserable condition enough. Neither

Felix nor Christlieb had been paying any attention to her during their

run, and so the bushes had torn all the clothes off her back, both her

handsome legs were broken, and of the pretty waxen face there was

scarcely a trace remaining, so marred and hideous did it appear.

"Oh, my poor, beautiful doll!" wept Christlieb.

"There, you see!" cried Felix; "those are the sort of trashy things

those two stupid creatures brought and gave us. That doll of yours is

nothing more or less than a stupid, idiotic slut. Can't so much as come

for a little run with us but she must get her clothes all torn off her

back, and herself spoilt and destroyed. Give me hold of her!"

Christlieb sorrowfully complied, and could scarcely restrain a cry of

"Oh, oh!" as he chucked the doll, without more ado, into the pond.

"Never mind, dear!" Felix said, consoling his sister. "Never mind about

the wretched thing. If I can only shoot a duck, you shall have all the

beautiful wing feathers."

A rustle was heard amongst the rushes, and Felix instantly took aim

with his wooden gun. But he moved it away from his shoulder speedily,

saying--"Am I not a tremendous idiot myself?" Looking reflectively

before him for a few minutes, he continued softly--

"How can a fellow shoot without powder and shot? And have I either the

one or the other? And then, could I put powder into a wooden gun?

What's the use, after all, of the stupid, wooden thing? And the

hunting-knife! wooden, too. Can neither cut nor stab. Of course my

cousin's sword was wooden as well! That was why he couldn't draw it

when he was afraid of Sultan. I see what it all comes too. Cousin

Pump-breeks was making a fool of me with his playthings, which only

make-believe to be things, and are nothing but useless trumpery." With

which Felix shied the gun, the hunting knife, and finally the

sabretasche into the pond. But Christlieb was terribly distressed about

her doll, and Felix himself couldn't help being annoyed at the way

things had turned out. And in this mood of mind they crept back to the

house; and when their mother asked them what had become of their

playthings, Felix truthfully related how they had been deceived in the

harper, the gun, the sabretasche, and the doll.

"Ah! you foolish children!" cried Frau von Brakel, half angry; "you

don't know how to deal with nice toys of the kind."

But Baron Thaddeus, who had listened to Felix's tale with evident

satisfaction, said, "Let the children alone; at the bottom, I am very

glad they are fairly rid of those playthings. They didn't understand

them, and were only bothered and vexed by them."

Neither Frau von Brakel nor the children understood what the Baron

meant in so saying.

THE STRANGER CHILD.

Soon after those events, Felix and Christlieb had run off to the wood

very early one morning. Their mother had impressed upon them that they

were to be home very soon again, because it was necessary that they

should stay in the house and read and write a great deal more than they

used to do, that they might not lose countenance before the tutor, who

was expected very soon. Wherefore Felix said, "We must jump and run

about as much as we can for the little while that we are allowed to

stay out here, that's all." So they immediately began to play at hare

and hounds.

But that game, and also every other that they tried to play at, very

soon only wearied them, and failed to amuse them after a second or two.

They could not understand why it was that, on that particular day,

thousands of vexatious annoyances should keep continually happening to

them. The wind carried Felix's cap away into the bushes; he stumbled

and fell down on his nose as he was running his best. Christlieb found

herself hanging by her clothes in a thorn-tree, or banged her foot

against a sharp stone, so that she had to shrink with pain. They soon

gave it all up, and slunk along dejectedly through the wood.

"Let's go home," said Felix; "there's nothing else for it."

But instead of doing so, he threw himself down under a shady tree;

Christlieb followed his example; and there the children lay, depressed

and wretched, gazing at the ground.

"Ah!" said Christlieb; "if we only had our nice playthings."

"Bosh!" growled Felix; "what the better should we be? We should only

smash them up and destroy them again. I'll tell you what it is,

Christlieb. Mother is not far wrong, I suspect. The playthings were all

right enough. But we didn't know how to play with them. And that's

because we don't know anything about the 'sciences,' as they call

them."

"You're quite right, Felix, dear," Christlieb said; "if we knew the

'sciences' all by heart, as those dressed-up cousins of ours do, we

should still have your harp-man and your sportsman; and my poor doll

would not be at the bottom of the duck-pond. Poor things that we are!

Ah! we know nothing about the 'sciences'!"

And therewith Christlieb began to sob and cry bitterly, and Felix

joined her in so doing. And they both howled and lamented till the wood

re-echoed again, crying, "Poor unfortunate children that we are! we

know nothing of the 'sciences.'"

But suddenly they ceased, and asked one another in amazement--

"Do you see, Christlieb?" "Do you hear, Felix?"

From out the deepest shades of the dark thicket which lay before the

children, a wonderful luminousness began to shine, playing like

moonlight over the leaves, which trembled in ecstasy. And through the

whispering trees there came a sweet musical tone, like that which we

hear when the wind awakens the chords slumbering within a harp. The

children felt a sense of awe come over them. All their vexation had

passed away from them; but tears of a sweet, unknown pain rose to their

eyes.

As the radiance streamed brighter through the bushes, and the

marvellous music-tones grew louder and louder, the children's hearts

beat high: they gazed eagerly at the brightness, and then they saw,

smiling at them from the thicket, the face of the most beautiful child

imaginable, with the sun beaming on it in all its splendour.

"Oh, come to us!--come to us, darling child!" cried Christlieb and

Felix, as they stretched their arms with indescribable longing towards

the beautiful creature. "I am coming!--I am coming!" a sweet voice

cried from the bushes; and then, as if borne on the wings of the

morning breeze, the Stranger Child seemed to come hovering over to

Christlieb and Felix.

HOW THE STRANGER CHILD PLAYED WITH FELIX AND CHRISTLIEB.

"I thought I heard you, out of the distance, crying and lamenting,"

said the Stranger Child, "and then I was very sorry for you. What is

the matter, you dear children?--what is it you want?"

"Ah," Felix said, "we didn't quite know what it was that we _did_ want!

But now, as far as I can make out, what we wanted was just you

yourself." "That is it!" Christlieb chimed in; "now that you are with

us, we are happy again. Why were you so long in coming?"

In fact, both children felt as though they had known and played with

the Stranger Child for a long time already, and that their unhappiness

had been only because this beloved playmate was not with them.

"You see," Felix said, in continuation, "we really haven't got any

playthings left; for I, like a stupid fool, went and destroyed a number

of the very finest, which my cousin Pump-breeks gave me, and I shied

them away. Never mind; we shall play somehow for all that."

"How can you talk so, Felix," said the Stranger Child, laughing aloud.

"Certainly the stuff you threw away wasn't of much value; but you, and

Christlieb too, are in the very middle of a quantity of the most

exquisite play-things that were ever seen."

"Where--where are they?" Felix and Christlieb cried.

"Look round you," said the Stranger Child; and Felix and Christlieb

then saw how, out of the thick grass and the wool-like moss, all sorts

of glorious flowers were peeping, with bright eyes gleaming, and

between them many-coloured stones and crystalline shells sparkled and

shone, while little golden insects danced up and down, humming little

gentle songs.

"Now we will build a palace," said the Stranger Child. "Help me to get

the stones together." And the Stranger stooped down and began choosing

stones of pretty colours. Felix and Christlieb helped, and the Stranger

Child knew so well how to set the stones up on one another that soon

there arose tall columns, shining in the sun like polished metal, while

an aerial golden roof vaulted itself over them at the top. Then the

Stranger Child kissed the flowers which were peeping from the ground;

when, with sweet whisperings, they shot up higher, and, embracing each

other lovingly, formed sweet-scented arcades and covered walks, in

which the children danced about, full of delight and gladness. The

Stranger Child clapped hands; and then the golden roof of the palace,

which was formed of insects' golden wings vaulted together, went

asunder with a hum, and the pillars melted away into a plashing silver

stream, on whose banks the varied flowers took up their stations, and

peered inquiringly into its ripples, or, moving their heads from side

to side, listened to its baby pattering. Then the Stranger Child

plucked blades of grass, and gathered little twigs from trees, strewing

them down before Felix and Christlieb. But those blades of grass

presently turned into the prettiest little dolls ever seen; and the

twigs became delicious little huntsmen. The dolls danced round

Christlieb; let her take them up in her lap, and whispered, in delicate

little voices, "Be kind to us!--love us, dearest Christlieb!" The

hunters shouted, "Halloa! halloa! the hunt's up!" and blew their horns,

and bustled about. Then hares came darting out of the bushes, with dogs

after them, and the hunters banging about. This was delightful.

Then all disappeared again. Christlieb and Felix cried, "What has

become of the dolls? where are the hunters?" The Stranger Child said,

"Oh, they are all at your disposal; they are close by you at any moment

when you want them. But hadn't you rather come on through the wood a

little now?" "Oh, yes! yes!" cried Felix and Christlieb. The Stranger

Child took hold of their hands, crying, "Come; come!"

And with that they went off. But it could not be called "running,"

really, for the children floated along, lightly and easily, through

amongst the trees, whilst all the bird's went fluttering along beside

them, singing and warbling in the blithest fashion. All of a sudden up

they soared, far into the sky. "Good morning, children! Good morning,

Fritz, my crony!" cried the stork in the by-going.

"Don't hurt me! don't hurt me!" screamed the hawk. "I'm not going to

touch your pigeons." And he swept away as hard as his long wings would

carry him, alarmed at the children. Felix shouted with delight, but

Christlieb was frightened. "Oh, my breath's going!" she cried; "I shall

tumble!" And just at that moment the Stranger Child let them all

three down to the ground again, and said: "Now I shall sing you the

Forest-Song, as a good-bye for to-day. I shall come again to-morrow."

Then the Child took out a little horn, of which the golden windings

looked almost as if made of wreaths of flowers, and began to sound it

so beautifully that the whole wood echoed wondrously with the lovely

music of it, whilst the nightingales (which had come up fluttering as

if in answer to the horn's summons, and were sitting on the branches,

as close as they could to the children) sang their sweetest songs. But

all at once the music grew fainter and fainter, till nothing of it

remained but a soft whisper, which seemed to come from the thicket into

which the Stranger Child had disappeared. "To-morrow!--to-morrow I come

again!" the children could just hear, as if from an immense distance.

They could not give themselves any explanation of their feelings, for

never, never had they known such happiness and enjoyment before in

their lives.

"And, oh, I wish it were to-morrow now!" they both cried, as they

hastened home as hard as they could, to tell their parents all that had

happened to them.

WHAT BARON VON BRAKEL AND HIS LADY SAID, AND WHAT

HAPPENED FURTHER.

"I could almost fancy the children had dreamt all this," the Baron said

to his wife, when Felix and Christlieb, full of the Stranger Child,

could not cease from talking of all that had happened--the

delightsomeness of their new friend, the exquisite music, the wonderful

events generally--"but then," said the Baron, "when I remember that

they could not both have dreamt just the same things at the same time,

really, when all's said and done, I cannot get to the bottom of it

all."

"Don't trouble your head about it, dear," said Frau von Brakel. "My

idea is that this Stranger Child was nobody but the schoolmaster's boy,

Gottlieb, from the village. It must have been he that ran over, and put

all this nonsense in the children's heads. We must take care that he is

not allowed to do it any more."

The Baron, was by no means of his wife's opinion; and, with the view of

getting better at the rights and wrongs of the affair, the children

were brought in and made to describe minutely what the child was like;

how it was dressed, and so forth. With respect to its appearance, both

Felix and Christlieb agreed that its face was fair as the lilies; that

it had cheeks like roses, cherry lips, bright blue eyes, locks of

golden hair, and that it was more beautiful altogether than words could

tell. As regarded its dress, all they knew was that it certainly had

not a blue-striped jacket and trousers, or a black leather cap, such as

the schoolmaster's Gottlieb wore. On the other hand, all they said of

its dress sounded utterly fabulous and absurd. For Christlieb said its

dress was wondrous beautiful, shining and gleaming, as if made of the

petals of roses; whilst Felix maintained that it was sparkling golden

green, like spring-leaves in the sunshine. Felix further said that the

child could not possibly have any connection with such a person as a

school master, because it was too deeply acquainted with sportsmanship

and woodcraft, and must consequently belong to some very home and

head-quarters of forest lore, and was going to be the grandest

sportsman ever heard of. "Oh, Felix!" Christlieb broke in, "how can you

say that dear little girl could ever be a sportsman? She may, perhaps,

know a good deal about that too, but I'm sure she knows a great deal

more about house-management; or how should she have dressed those dolls

for me so beautifully, and made such delightful dishes?" Thus Felix

thought the Stranger Child was a boy, and Christlieb, a girl; and those

contradictory opinions could not be reconciled.

Fran von Brakel thought it was a pity to go into nonsense of this kind

with children; but the Baron thought differently, and said: "I should

only have to follow the children into the woods, to find out what

wondrous sort of creature this is that comes to play with them; but I

can't help feeling that if I did I should spoil what is for them a

great pleasure; and for that reason I don't want to do it."

Next day, when Felix and Christlieb went off to the wood at the usual

time, they found the Stranger Child waiting for them; and, if their

play had been glorious on the former day, this day the Stranger Child

did the most miraculous things imaginable, so that Felix and Christlieb

shouted for rapture over and over again. It was delicious and most

enjoyable that, during their play, the Stranger Child talked so

prettily and comprehendingly with the trees, the bushes, the flowers,

and the brook which ran through the wood, and they all answered so

understandably that Felix and Christlieb knew everything that they

said.

The Stranger Child said to the alder-thicket, "What is it that you

black-looking folks are muttering and whispering to each other again?"

and the branches took to shaking more forcibly, and they laughed and

whispered "Ha, ha, ha! we are delighting ourselves over the charming

things that friend Morning-breeze was saying to us when he came

rustling over from the blue hills, in advance of the sunbeams. He

brought us thousands of greetings and kisses from the Golden Queen; and

plenty of wing-waftings, full of the sweetest perfume."

"Oh, silence!" the flowers broke in, interrupting the talk of the

branches. "Hold your tongues on the score of that flatterer, who is so

vain about the perfumes which his false caresses rob us of. Never mind

the thickets, children; let them lisp and whisper; look at us--listen

to us. We love you so, and we dress ourselves out, day by day, in the

loveliest colours merely to give you pleasure."

"And do we not love _you_, you beautiful flowers?" said the Stranger

Child. But Christlieb knelt down on the ground, and stretched out her

arms, as if she would take all the beautiful flowers to her heart,

crying, "Ah, I love you all, every one of you!" Felix cried, "I love

you all, too, flowers, in your bright dresses. Still I dote upon green,

and the woods, and the trees. The woods have to take care of you, and

shelter you, bonny little things that you are."

Then came a sighing out of the tall, dark fir-trees; and they said,

"That is very true, you clever boy; and you are not to be afraid of us,

when our cousin, the storm, comes rushing at us, and we have to hold a

rather strenuous bit of argument with that rough customer."

"All right," said Felix. "Groan, and sigh, and snarl as much as you

like, you green giants that you are; _then_ is when the real woodsman's

heart begins to rejoice."

"You are quite right there," the forest brook plashed and rustled. "But

what is the good of always hunting--always rushing in storm and

turmoil? Come, and sit down nicely among the moss, and listen to me. I

come from far-away places, out of a deep, dark, rocky cleft. I have

delightful tales to tell you; and always something new, wave after

wave, for ever and ever. And I will show you the loveliest pictures, if

you will but look properly into this clear mirror of mine. Vaporous

blue of the sky--golden clouds--bushes, flowers and trees, and your

very selves, you beautiful children, I draw lovingly into the depths of

my bosom."

"Felix and Christlieb," said the Stranger Child, looking round with

wondrous blissfulness, "only listen how they all love us. But the

redness of the evening is rising behind the hills, and the nightingale

is calling me home."

"Oh, but let us just fly a little, as we did yesterday," Felix prayed.

"Yes," said Christlieb, "but not quite so high. It makes my head so

giddy."

Then the Stranger Child took them by the hands again, and they went

soaring up into the golden purple of the evening sky, while the birds

crowded and sang round them. That was a shouting and a jubilating! In

the shining clouds Felix saw, as if in wavering flame, beautiful

castles all of rubies and other precious stones. "Look! look!

Christlieb!" he cried, full of rapture, "look at all those splendid

palaces! Let us fly along as fast as we can, and we shall get to them."

Christlieb saw the castles too, and forgot her fear, as she was not

looking down, this time, but up before her.

"Those are my beloved air-castles," the Stranger Child said. "But I

don't think we shall get any further to-day.".

Felix and Christlieb seemed to be in a dream, and could not make out at

all how they came to find themselves, presently, with their father and

mother.

CONCERNING THE STRANGER CHILD'S HOME.

In the most beautiful part of the wood beside the brook, between

whispering bushes, the Stranger Child had set up a most glorious tent,

made of tall, slender lilies, glowing roses, and tulips of every hue;

and beneath this tent Felix and Christlieb were sitting with the

Stranger Child, listening to the forest-brook as it went on whispering

the strangest things imaginable.

"I'll tell you, darling boy," Felix said, "I can't properly understand

all that he, there, is saying; but I somehow feel that _you_ could tell

me, clearly and distinctly, what it is that he goes on murmuring. But

most of all I should like you to tell me where it is that you come

from, and where it is that you go away to, so fast, so fast, that we

never can make out how you do it."

"Do you know, sweetest girl," said Christlieb, "our mother thinks you

are the schoolmaster's boy, Gottlieb."

"Hold your tongue, stupid thing!" Felix cried. "Mother has never seen

this darling boy, or she wouldn't have talked about the schoolmaster's

Gottlieb. But come now, tell me where it is that you live, dear boy;

fur we want to go and see you at your home in the winter time, when it

storms and snows, and nobody can trace a track in the woods."

"Yes, yes!" said Christlieb. "Tell us, like a darling, where your home

is; and all about your father and mother, and more than all, what your

own name is."

The Stranger Child looked very thoughtfully at the sky, almost

sorrowfully, and gave a deep sigh. Then, after some moments of silence,

the Stranger Child said, "Ah, my dears, why must you ask about my home?

Is it not enough for you that I come every day and play with you? I

might tell you that my home lies behind those distant hills, which are

like dim, jagged clouds. But though you were to travel day after day,

for ever and ever, till you were standing on those hills, you would

always see other, and other ranges of hills, further and further away,

and my home would still be beyond them; and even if you reached them,

you would still see others further away, and would have to go to them,

and you would never come to where my home is."

"Ah me!" sighed Christlieb. "Then you must live hundreds and hundreds

of miles away from us. It is only on a sort of visit that you are

here?"

"Christlieb, darling," the Stranger Child said; "whenever you long for

me with all your heart, I am with you immediately, bringing you all

those plays and wonders from my home with me; and is not that quite as

good as if we were in my home together, playing there?"

"Not at all," Felix said; "for I believe that your home is some most

glorious place, full of all sorts of delightful things which you

bring--some of them--here with you. I don't care how hard you may say

the road is to your home, I mean to set out upon it this minute. To

work one's way through forests--by difficult tracks--to climb

mountains, and wade rivers, and break through all sorts of thickets,

and clamber over rugged rocks--all that is a woodsman's proper

business, and I'm going to do it."

"And so you shall!" said the Stranger Child, smiling pleasantly; "for

when you put it all so clearly before you, and make up your mind to it,

it is as good as done. The land where I live is, in truth, so beautiful

and glorious that I can give you no description of it. It is my mother

who reigns over that country--all glory and loveliness--as queen."

"Ah, you are a prince!" "Ah, then, you are a princess! the two children

cried together, amazed, and almost terrified.

"I am, certainly," the Stranger Child replied.

"Then you live in a beautiful palace?" Felix cried.

"Yes," said the Stranger Child. "My mother's palace is far more

beautiful than those glittering castles which you saw in the evening

clouds; for the gleaming pillars of her palace are all of the purest

crystal, and they soar, slender and tall, into the blue of heaven; and

upon them there rests a great, wide canopy; beneath that canopy sail

the shining clouds, hither and thither, on golden wings, and the red of

the evening and the morning rises and falls, and the sparkling stars

dance in singing circles. Dearest playmates, you have heard of the

fairies, who can bring about the most glorious wonders, as mortal men

cannot; now, my mother is one of the most powerful fairies of all. All

that lives and moves on earth she holds embraced to her heart in the

purest and truest love; although, to her inward pain, many human beings

will not allow themselves to come to any knowledge of her. But my

mother loves children most of all; and thence it is that the festivals

which she holds in her kingdom for children are the most splendid and

glorious of all. It is then that beautiful spirits belonging to my

mother's kingdom, and to her royal palace, fly deftly through the sky,

weaving and combining a shining rainbow, from one end of her palace to

another, gleaming in the most brilliant dyes. Under those rainbows they

build my mother's diamond throne, all of nothing but diamonds--diamonds

which are, in appearance and in perfume, like lilies, roses, and

carnations; and when my mother takes her place on her throne, the

spirits play on their golden harps and their crystal cymbals, and to

those instruments the court singers of her court sing with voices so

marvellous, that one could die of rapture to hear them. Now, those

singers are beautiful birds, bigger even than eagles, with feathers all

purple-red, such as you have never seen the like of. And as soon as

their music begins, everything in the palace, the woods, and the

gardens moves and sings; and all around there are thousands of

beautiful children in charming dresses, shouting and delighting. They

chase each other amongst the bushes, and throw flowers at each other in

play; they climb trees, where the winds swing them and rock them; they

gather gold-glittering fruit, which tastes as nothing on earth does;

and they play with tame deer and other charming creatures which come

bounding up to them from among the trees; then they run up and down the

rainbows, or they ride on the golden pheasants, which fly up among the

gleaming clouds with them on their backs."

"How delightful that must be!" Christlieb and Felix cried with rapture.

"Oh, take us with you to your home! We want to stay there always!"

But the Stranger Child said, "I cannot take you with me to my home; it

is too far away. You would have to be able to fly as far and as

strongly as I can myself."

Felix and Christlieb were very sorry, and cast their eyes sadly down to

the ground.

THE WICKED MINISTER AT THE FAIRY QUEEN'S COURT.

"And then," the Stranger Child continued, "you might not be as happy as

you expect at my mother's court. Indeed, it might be a misfortune for

you to go there. There are many children who cannot bear the singing of

those purple-red birds, glorious as it is: it breaks their hearts, and

they are obliged to die immediately. Others, who are too pert and

adventurous in running up and down the rainbows, slip, and fall; and

there are many who are so stupid and awkward, that they hurt the gold

pheasants when they are riding on them. Then those birds, though they

are good-tempered and kind-hearted, take this amiss, and they tear

those children's breasts open with their sharp beaks, so that they fall

down from the clouds bleeding. My mother is very very sorry when

children come to misfortune in those ways, although it is all their own

fault when they do. She would be only too happy if all the children in

the world could enjoy the pleasures of her court and kingdom. But,

although there are plenty who can fly strongly enough and far enough,

they are often either too forward, or too timid, and cause her only

sorrow and pain; and that is why she allows me to fly away from my

home, and take to nice children all sorts of delightful playthings, as

I have done to you."

"Ah," cried Christlieb, "I am sure I could never do anything to hurt

those beautiful birds! But to run up and down a rainbow, that I am

certain I never could. I shouldn't like that."

"Now that would be just what I should delight in," Felix said; "and

that is the very reason why I want to go and see your mother, the

queen. Couldn't you bring one of those rainbows here with you?"

"No," the Stranger Child said, "I could not do that. And I must tell

you that I have only been able to come to you by stealing away from

home. Once on a time, I was quite safe every where, just as if I were

at home, and my mother's beautiful kingdom seemed to extend all over

the world; but now that a bitter enemy of hers, whom she has banished

from her kingdom, is going raging about everywhere, I cannot be safe

from being watched, pursued, and molested."

"Well," Felix cried, jumping up, and shieing the thorn-stick which he

was cutting into the air, "I should like to come across the fellow who

would do anything to harm you! He would have to do with me in the first

place; and then I should send for father, and he would have him taken

up and put in the tower."

"Ah," the Stranger Child said, "powerless as my bitter enemy is to harm

me when I am at home, he is terribly dangerous when I am not there, and

neither sticks nor prisons can protect me from him!"

"What sort of a nasty creature is it, then," Christlieb inquired, "that

can do you so much harm?"

"I have told you that my mother is a mighty queen," the Stranger Child

said; "and you know that queens, like kings, have courts and ministers

belonging to them."

"Yes, yes," said Felix. "My own uncle, the count, is one of those

ministers, and wears a star on his breast. Do your mother's ministers

wear stars like him?"

"No," the Stranger Child said; "not exactly that; for most of them are

shining stars themselves, and others of them do not wear any coats on

which they could stick things of the sort. I must tell you that my

mother's ministers are all powerful spirits, either hovering in the

sky, or dwelling in the waters, doing, and carrying out everywhere what

my mother orders them to do. Once, a long while ago, there came amongst

us a stranger, who called himself Pepasilio, who said he was very

learned, and could do more, and accomplish greater things, than all the

others of us. My mother took him in amongst the ranks of her other

ministers; but his natural spite and wickedness very soon developed

themselves and came to light, Not only did he strive to undo all that

the other ministers did, but he set himself specially to spoil all the

happy enjoyments of children. He had pretended to the queen that he, of

all others, was the very spirit who could make children glad, and

happy, and clever; but instead of that, he hung himself with a weight

of lead on to the tails of the pheasants, so that they could not fly

aloft any more; and when the children climbed up the rose-trees, he

would drag them down by the legs, so that they knocked their noses on

the ground and made them bleed; and any that were jumping and dancing

he dashed down to the ground, to go crawling wretchedly about there

with downcast heads. Those who were singing he crammed all sorts of

nasty stuff into the mouths of, so that they had to stop; for singing

he could not abide. As for the poor tame beasts, he always wanted to

eat them, instead of playing with them, for he said that was what they

were meant for. The worst was, that with the help of his followers, he

had a way of smearing all the beautiful, sparkling precious stones of

the palace, the many-tinted glowing flowers, the roses and lilies, and

even the shining rainbows, with a horrible black juice, so that all the

glory and the beauty of them was gone, and everything became sorrowful

and dead. And when he had accomplished this, he would out with a loud

ringing laugh, and say that everything was now just as he wished

it to be. But when, at last, he declared that he did not consider my

mother to be queen at all, and that the rule really belonged to him

alone,--and when he went hovering up in the shape of an enormous fly,

with flashing eyes, and a great trunk, or snout, sticking out, all

about my mother's throne, buzzing and humming in an abominable

manner,--then she, and all the rest of her court, saw that this

malignant minister, who had come amongst us under the fine name of

Pepasilio, was none other than Pepser, the morose and gloomy King of

the Gnomes. But he had foolishly overestimated his power, as well as

the bravery of his followers. The ministers of the Air department

surrounded the queen, and fanned perfumed breezes towards her, whilst

the ministers of the Fire department rushed up and down in billows of

flame, and the singers (whose bills had been cleaned out) chanted the

most full-voiced choruses, so that the queen neither saw nor heard the

ugly Pepser, neither could she be aware of his evil-smelling breath.

Moreover, at that moment, the pheasant prince seized him with his

glittering beak, and gripped him so strenuously that he screamed with

agony and rage; and then the pheasant prince let him down to the earth

from a height of three thousand ells, so that he could not stir hand or

foot till his aunt, and crony, the great blue toad, took him on her

back, and so carried him home. Five hundred fine sprightly children

armed themselves with fly-flappers, with which they banged Pepser's

horrible followers to death, when they were still swarming about

intending to destroy all the beautiful flowers. Now, as soon as Pepser

was gone, all the black juice which he had covered everything over

with, flowed away of itself, and everything was restored, and was soon

beaming and shining, and blooming as gloriously as ever. You may

imagine that this horrid Pepser has no more power in my mother's

kingdom. But he knows that I often venture out, and he follows me

everywhere, in shapes of every kind, so that, wretched child that I am,

I often do not know where to hide myself in my flight; and that is why

I often get away from you so quickly that you cannot see what becomes

of me. Therefore things must go on just as they are; and I can assure

you that if I were to try to take you with me to my home, Pepser would

be sure to lie in wait for us, and kill us."

Christlieb wept bitterly over the danger to which the Stranger Child

must always be exposed. But Felix said, "If that horrible Pepser is

nothing but a great fly, I'll soon be at him with father's big

fly-flapper; and if once I give him a good crack on the nose with it,

Aunty Toad will have a job to get him home, I can tell her."

HOW THE TUTOR ARRIVED, AND HOW THE CHILDREN WERE

AFRAID OF HIM.

Felix and Christlieb ran home as fast as they could, crying, as they

went, "Ah! the Stranger Child is a beautiful prince!"--"Ah! the

Stranger Child is a beautiful princess!" They wanted, in their delight,

to tell this to their parents; but they stood at the door like marble

statues when they found the baron meeting them there with a stranger at

his side, an extraordinary-looking personage, who muttered to himself,

half intelligibly, "Ah, a nice pair of gawkies those are, it seems to

me!"

The baron took him by the hand, saying, "This gentleman is the tutor

whom your gracious uncle has sent. So say, 'How-do-you do, sir?' to him

properly."

But the children looked askance at the man, and could move neither

hand nor foot. This was because they had never seen such an

extraordinary-looking creature. He was scarcely more than half a head

taller than Felix; but he was stumpy and thick-set, and his little

weasened legs formed an astonishing contrast with his body, which

was stout and powerful. His shapeless head was almost to be called

four-square, and his face was almost too ugly altogether. For not only

was his nose much too long and sharp-pointed to suit with his fat,

brownish cheeks, and his wide mouth, but his little prominent eyes

glittered so alarmingly that one hardly liked to look at him. Moreover,

he had a black periwig crammed on to his four-cornered head; he was

clad in black from top to toe, and his name was "Tutor Ink."

Now, as the children stood staring like stone images, their mother got

angry, and cried, "Good gracious, children, what are you thinking of?

This gentleman will take you for a pair of raw country gabies! Come,

come; give him your hands!"

The children, taking heart of grace, did as their mother bade them. But

as soon as the tutor took hold of their hands, they jumped back with a

loud cry of "Oh! oh! It hurts!" The tutor laughed aloud, and showed a

needle which he had hidden in his hand, to prick the children with.

Christlieb was weeping; but Felix growled, in an aside, "Just you try

that again, little Big-belly!"

"Why did you do that, dear Mr. Tutor Ink?" the baron asked, rather

annoyed.

The tutor answered, "Well, it is my way; I can't alter it!" With which

he stuck his hands in his sides, and went on laughing, till at length

his laughter sounded as ugly as the noise of a broken rattle.

"You seem to be a person fond of your little jokes, Master Tutor Ink!"

the baron said. But he, and his wife, and most particularly the

children, were beginning to feel very eery and uncomfortable. "Well,

well," said Tutor Ink, "what sort of a state are these little crabs

here in? Pretty well grounded in the sciences? We'll see directly."

With which he began to ask questions of Felix and Christlieb, of the

sort that their uncle and aunt had asked of their cousins. But, as they

both declared that, as yet, they did not know any of the sciences, by

heart, Tutor Ink beat his hands over his head till everything rang

again, and cried, like a man possessed, "A pretty story indeed! No

sciences! Then we've got our work cut out for us. However, we shall

soon make a job of it."

Felix and Christlieb could both write fairly well, and, from many old

books which their father put in their hands, and which they were fond

of reading, they had learned a good many pretty stories, and could

repeat them. But Tutor Ink despised all this, and said it was stupid

nonsense.

Alas! there was no more running about in the woods to be so much as

thought of. Instead of that, the children had to sit within the four

walls of the house all day long, and babble, after Tutor Ink,

things which they did not in the least understand. It was really a

heart-breaking business. With what longing eyes they looked at the

woods! Often it was as if they heard, amidst the happy songs of the

birds, and the rustling of the trees, the Stranger Child's voice

calling to them and saying, "Felix! Christlieb! are you not coming any

more to play with me? Oh, come! I have made you a palace, all of

flowers; we will sit there, and I will give you all sorts of beautiful

stones, and then we'll soar into the air, and build ourselves

cloud-castles. Come! oh come!"

At this, the children were drawn to the woods with all their thoughts,

and neither saw nor heard their tutor any longer. But he would get very

angry, thump on the table with both his fists, and hum, and growl, and

snarl, "Pim--sim--prr--srr knurr kirr--what's all this? Wait a little!

"Felix, however, did not endure this very long; he jumped up, and

cried, "Don't bother me with your stupid nonsense, Mr. Ink; I must be

off to the woods! Go and get hold of Cousin Pumpbreeks; that's the sort

of stuff for _him_. Come along, Christlieb! The Stranger Child is

waiting for us;" with which they started off. But Tutor Ink sprang

after them with remarkable agility, and seized hold of them just

outside the door. Felix fought like a man, and Tutor Ink was on the

point of getting the worst of it, as the faithful Sultan came to

Felix's help. Sultan--generally a good, kindly-behaved dog took a

strong dislike to Tutor Ink the moment he set eyes on him. Whenever the

tutor came near him, he growled, and swept about him so forcibly with

his tail that he nearly knocked the tutor down, managing deftly to hit

him great thumps on his little weazened legs. So Sultan came dashing

up, when Felix was holding the tutor by the shoulders, and hung on to

his coat-tails. Master Ink raised a doleful yell, which brought up the

baron to the rescue. The tutor let go his hold of Felix, and Sultan let

go his hold on the tutor's coat-tails.

"He said we weren't to go to the woods any more," cried Christlieb,

weeping and lamenting. And although the baron gave Felix a good

scolding, he was very sorry that the children might not go wandering,

as they used, amongst the trees and bushes, and told the tutor that he

wished him to go with them into the woods for a certain time every day.

The tutor did not like the idea at all. He said, "Ah, Herr Baron, if

you had but a sensible piece of garden, with nicely-clipped box, and

railed-in enclosures, one might go and take the children for a little

walk there of forenoons! But what in all the world is the good of going

into a wild forest?"

The children did not like it either, saying, "What business has Tutor

Ink in our darling wood?"

HOW TUTOR INK TOOK THE CHILDREN FOR A WALK IN THE

WOODS, AND WHAT HAPPENED ON THE OCCASION.

"Well, Master Ink, isn't it delightful in our wood here?" Felix said,

as they were making their way through the rustling thickets. Tutor Ink

made a face, and answered, "Stupid nonsense! There's no road. All that

one does is to tear one's stockings. And one can't say or hear a word

of sense, for the abominable screaming noise the birds are making."

"Ha, ha! master," said Felix, "I see you don't know anything about

singing! And I daresay you don't hear when the morning wind is talking

with the bushes, and the old forest brook is telling all those

delightful tales." "And you don't even love the flowers," Christlieb

chimed in; "do you, master?"

At this the tutor's face became of even a deeper cherry-brown than it

was usually; and he beat with his hands about him, crying, "What

stupid, ridiculous nonsense you are talking! Who has put such trash in

your heads? Who ever heard that woods and streams had got the length of

engaging in rational conversation? Neither is there anything in the

chirping of birds. I like flowers well enough when they are nicely

arranged in a room in glasses. They smell then; and one doesn't require

a scent-bottle. But there are no proper flowers in woods."

"But don't you see those dear little lilies of the valley, peeping up

at you with such bright, loving eyes?" Christlieb said.

"What? what?" the tutor screamed. "Flowers--eyes? Ha, ha! Nice 'eyes'

indeed! The useless things haven't even got what you would call a

smell!" With which Master Ink bent down and plucked up a handful of

them, roots and all, and chucked them away into the thickets. To the

children it seemed, almost, as if they heard a cry of pain pass through

the wood. Christlieb could not help bitter tears, and Felix gnashed his

teeth in anger. Just then, a little siskin went fluttering close past

the tutor's nose, alighted on a branch, and began a joyous song. "That

is a mockingbird, I think!" said the tutor; and, taking up a stone, he

threw it at the poor bird, which it struck, and silenced into death; it

fell from the green branch to the ground.

Felix could restrain himself no longer. "You horrible Tutor Ink," he

cried, "what had the bird done to you that you should strike it dead?

Ah, where are you, you beautiful Stranger Child? Oh come! only come!

Let us fly far, far away. I cannot stay beside this horrible creature

any longer. I want to go to your home with you." Christlieb chimed in,

sobbing and weeping bitterly, crying, "Oh, thou darling child, come to

us, come to us! Rescue us, rescue us! Tutor Ink is killing us, as he is

killing the flowers and the birds."

"What do you mean by the Stranger Child?" Tutor Ink asked. But at that

instant there came a louder whispering and rustling amongst the bushes,

mingled with melancholy, heart-breaking tones, as if of muffled bells

tolling in the far distance. In a shining cloud, which came sailing

over above them, they saw the beautiful face of the Stranger Child, and

presently it came wholly into view, wringing its little hands, whilst

tears, like glittering pearls streamed down its rosy cheeks. "Ah,

darling playmates," cried the Stranger Child, in tones of sorrow, "I

cannot come to you any more. You will never see me again. Farewell,

farewell! The gnome Pepser has you in his power. Oh, you poor children,

good-bye, good-bye!" and the Stranger Child soared up far into the sky.

But, at the children's backs, there began a horrid, fearsome sort of

buzzing and humming, and snarling and growling; and lo! Tutor Ink had

taken the shape of an enormous frightful-looking fly. And the horrible

part of the thing was, that he had a man's face at the same time, and

even some of his clothes on still. He began to fly upwards, slowly and

with difficulty, evidently with the intention of following the Stranger

Child. Felix and Christlieb, overpowered with terror, ran away out of

the wood as quickly as they could, and did not so much as dare to look

up to the sky till they had got some distance off. When they did so,

they could just perceive a shining speck in the sky, glittering amongst

the clouds like a star, and apparently coming nearer, and downwards.

"That's the Stranger Child," Christlieb cried. The star grew bigger and

bigger, and as it did, they could hear a braying of trumpets; and

presently they saw that the star was a splendid bird, with wondrous

shining plumage, coming soaring down to the wood, flapping its mighty

wings, and singing loud and clear. "Ha!" cried Felix, "this is the

pheasant prince. He will bite Master Tutor Ink to death. The Stranger

Child is saved and so are we! Come, Christlieb; let us get home as fast

as we can, and tell father all about it."

HOW THE BARON TURNED TUTOR INK OUT OF DOORS.

The baron and his spouse were both sitting before the door of their

simple dwelling, looking at the evening-red, which was beginning to

flame up from behind the blue mountains in golden streamers. They had

their supper laid out on a little table: it consisted of a noble jug of

splendid milk, and a plate of bread-and-butter.

"I don't know," the baron began, "where Tutor Ink can be staying out so

long with the children. At first there was no getting him to go out at

all to the wood, and now there's no getting him back from it. He's

really a very extraordinary fellow, this Tutor Ink, taking him all in

all. I sometimes almost wish he had never entered our doors. To begin

with, his pricking the children with that needle was a thing that I

cannot say I liked; and I don't think his knowledge of the sciences

amounts to very much, either. He plappers out a lot of stuff that

nobody run make head or tail of, and can tell you what kind of

spatterdashes the Grand Mogul puts on; but when he goes outside, he

can't tell a lime-tree from a chestnut; and his behaviour has always

struck me as being most remarkable."

"I feel just as you do, dearest husband," said Frau von Brakel; "and,

glad as I was that your great cousin should interest himself about the

children, I feel quite sure, now, that he might have done it in other

and better ways than by saddling us with this Tutor Ink. As regards his

knowledge of the sciences, I don't pretend to give an opinion; but I

know that the little black creature, with his little weeny legs, is

more and more disagreeable to me every day. He has such a nasty way of

gobbling things. He can't see a drop of beer at the bottom of a glass,

or the fag-end of a jug of milk, but he must gulp them down his throat;

and if he finds the sugar-box open, he's at it in a moment, snuffing at

the sugar, and dipping his fingers in it, till one has to clap to the

lid in his face; and then away he darts, humming and buzzing in a way

that's most disgusting and abominable."

The baron was going to carry this conversation further, when Felix and

Christlieb came running home through amongst the birches.

"Hurrah! hurrah!" Felix kept shouting, "the pheasant prince has bitten

Master Tutor Ink to death!"

"Oh, mamma dear," cried Christlieb, "Master Tutor Ink is not a Tutor

Ink at all! What he really is, is Pepser, king of the Gnomes; a great,

monstrous fly, but a fly with a wig on, and shoes and stockings!"

The parents gazed at the children in utter amazement, as they went on

excitedly telling them all about the Stranger Child, whose mother was a

great fairy queen; and of the Gnome King Pepser, and his combat with

the pheasant prince.

"Who on earth has been cramming all this nonsense into your heads?" the

baron asked over and over again. "Have you been dreaming? or what in

the name of goodness has happened to you?" However, the children

declared, and stuck to it, that everything had happened just as they

told it, and that the horrible Pepser, who had given himself out as

being Master Ink, the tutor, must be lying killed in the wood.

Frau von Brakel struck her hands over her head and cried, in much

sorrow, "Oh, children, children, I don't know what on earth is to

become of you, when fearful things of this sort come into your heads,

and you won't let yourselves be persuaded to the contrary!"

But the baron grew very grave and thoughtful. "Felix," he said, "you

are really a very sensible boy now; and I must admit that Tutor Ink has

always, from the very first, struck me as being a very strange,

mysterious creature. Indeed, it often seemed to me that there was

something very queer about him, which I could by no means get to the

bottom of; he is not like the common run of tutors at all. Your mother

and I are by no means satisfied with him, particularly your mother. He

has such a terribly liquorish tooth of his own, there's no keeping him

away from sweet things! And then he hums and buzzes in such a

distressing way! Altogether, I can assure you he wouldn't have been

here much longer. No! But now, my dear boy, just bethink yourself

calmly; even if there were, really, any such nasty things as gnomes

existing in the world, could (I ask you now to think it over calmly and

rationally), _could_, I say, a tutor really be a fly?"

Felix looked his father steadily in the face with his clear blue eyes,

as he repeated this question. "Well," said Felix, "I never thought very

much about that; in fact, I should not have believed it myself, if the

Stranger Child had not said so, and if I had not seen, with my own

eyes, that he is a horrible, nasty fly, and only pretends to be Tutor

Ink. And then," continued Felix, while the baron shook his head in

silence, like one who does not know quite what to say, or think, "see

what mother says about his fondness for sweet things. Isn't that just

like a fly? Flies are always grabbing at sweet things. And then, his

hummings and buzzings!"

"Silence!" cried the baron. "Whatever Tutor Ink may really be, one

thing is certain; that the pheasant prince has not bitten him to death,

for here he comes out of the wood!"

At this the children uttered loud screams, and fled into the house.

For, in truth, Tutor Ink was approaching out of the wood, up the path

among the birches. But he was all wild-looking and bewildered, with

sparkling eyes, and his wig all touzled. He was buzzing and humming,

and making great springs, high off the ground, first to one side, then

to another, banging his head against the birches till you heard them

resound. When he got to the house, he dashed at the milk-jug and popped

his face into it, so that the milk ran over the sides; and he gulped it

down, making a horrible noise of swallowing.

"For the love of heaven, Master Ink," cried Fran von Brakel, "what are

you about?"

"Are you out of your senses?" said the baron. "Is the foul fiend after

you?"

But, regardless of those interrogations, Master Ink, taking his

mouth from the milk-jug, threw himself down bodily on the dish of

bread-and-butter; fluttered over it with his coat-tails, and, somehow,

made such play over it with his weazened legs, that he smoothed it down

all over. Then, with a louder buzzing, he made for the house-door; but

he couldn't manage to get into the house, but staggered hither and

thither as if he was drunk, banging against the windows till they

rattled and rang.

"I'll tell you what it is, my good sir!" cried the baron. "This is

pretty behaviour! Look out, or you'll come to grief before you know

where you are!" And he tried to seize Master Ink by the coat-tails; but

Master Ink always managed to elude him, deftly. Here Felix came running

out, with his father's big fly-flapper in his hand; and he gave it to

the baron, crying, "Here you are, father; knock the horrible Pepser to

death!"

The baron took the fly-flapper, and then they all set to work at Master

Ink. Felix, Christlieb, and their mother took table-napkins, and made

sweeps with them in the air, driving the tutor backwards and forwards,

here and there; whilst the baron kept letting drive at him with the

fly-flapper, which did not hit him, unfortunately, because he took good

care never to stay a moment in the same place. And wilder and wilder

grew the chase. "Summ-summ----simm-simm----trr-trr," went the tutor,

storming hither and thither; "huss-huss," went the table-napkins,

pursuing the foe; "klip-klap" fell the baron's strokes with the

flapper, thick as hail. At last the baron managed to hit the tutor's

coat-tails; he fell down with a groan. But just as the baron was going

to get a second stroke at him, he bounced up into the air, with renewed

and redoubled strength, stormed, humming and buzzing, away through the

birches, and was seen no more.

"A good job," said the baron, "that we're well rid of horrible Tutor

Ink: never shall he cross my threshold again."

"No; that he shall not!" said Frau von Brakel. "Tutors with such

objectionable manners can do nothing but mischief, when just the

contrary ought to be the case. Brags about his 'sciences,' and then

goes flop into the milk-jug. A nice sort of a tutor, upon my word!"

But the children laughed and shouted, crying, "Hip-hip, hurrah! It's

all right now! Father has hit Tutor Ink a good one on the nose, and

we've got rid of him for good and all."

THAT WHICH CAME TO PASS IN THE WOOD, AFTER TUTOR

INK WAS GOT RID OF.

Felix and Christlieb breathed freely again now. A great weight was

taken off their hearts. Above all things, there was the delicious

thought that, now that the horrid Pepser was gone, the Stranger Child

would be sure to come back, and play with them as of yore. They hurried

into the wood, full of sweet hope and happy expectancy. But everything

there was silent and desolate. Not a merry note of finch or siskin was

to be heard; and in place of the gladsome rustling of the bushes and

the joyous voice of the brook, sighs of sorrow seemed to be passing

through the air, and the sun cast only faint and feeble glimpses

through the clouded sky. Presently great dark clouds began to pile

themselves up; thunder muttered in the distance; a storm-wind howled,

and the tall fir-trees creaked and groaned. Christlieb clung to Felix,

in alarm. But he said, "What's come to you? What are you afraid of?

There's going to be a thunderstorm. We must get home as fast as we can;

that's all!"

So they set off to do so; but somehow--they didn't know why--instead of

getting out of the wood, they seemed to keep getting farther and

farther into it. The darkness deepened: great rain-drops fell, faster

and faster, thicker and thicker, and flashes of lightning darted hither

and thither, hissing as they passed. The children came to a stand by

the edge of an impassable thicket. "Let's duck down here for a little,

Christlieb," said Felix; "the storm won't last long." Christlieb was

crying from fear, but she did as Felix asked her. Scarcely had they sat

down among the thick bushes, however, when nasty, snarling voices began

to speak, behind them, saying:

"Stupid things! Senseless creatures! You despised us; didn't know how

to treat us--what to do with us. So now you can do your best without

any playthings, senseless creatures that you are!" Felix looked round,

and felt very eery and uncomfortable when he saw the sportsman and the

harper rise up out of the thicket into which he had thrown them,

staring at him with dead eyes and struggling and fighting about them

with their hands. Moreover, the harper twanged on his strings so that

they gave out a horrible, nasty, eery clinkering and rattling; and the

sportsman went so far as to take a deliberate aim at Felix with his

gun; and both of them croaked out, "Wait a little, you boy and you

girl. We are obedient pupils of Master Tutor Ink: he'll be here

directly, and then we'll pay you out nicely for despising us."

Terrified--regardless of the rain, which was now streaming in torrents,

and of the rattling peals of thunder, and the gale which was roaring

through the firs--the children ran away from thence, and came to the

brink of the pond which bordered the wood. But as soon as they got

there, lo and behold! Christlieb's big doll, which Felix had thrown

into the water, rose out of the sedges, and squeaked out, in a horrible

voice, "Wait a little, you boy and you girl! Stupid things! Senseless

creatures! You despised me; didn't know what to do with me--how to

treat me. So now you can get on without playthings the best way you

can. I am an obedient pupil of Master Tutor Ink's: he'll be here

directly, and then you'll be nicely paid out for despising me." And

then the nasty thing sent great splashes of water flying at Felix and

Christlieb, though they were wet through already with the rain.

Felix could not endure this terrible process of haunting. Poor

Christlieb was half dead, so they ran off again, as hard as they could;

but soon, in the heart of the wood, they sank down, exhausted with

weariness and terror. Then they heard a humming and a buzzing behind

them. "Oh, heavens!" cried Felix; "here comes Tutor Ink, now!" At that

moment his consciousness left him, and so did Christlieb's too.

When they came back to their senses, they found themselves lying on a

bed of soft moss. The storm was over, the sun was shining bright and

kindly, and the raindrops were hanging on the glittering bushes and

trees like sparkling jewels. The children were much surprised to find

that their clothes were quite dry, and that they felt no trace of

either cold or wet. "Ah!" cried Felix, stretching his arms to the sky;

"the Stranger Child must have protected us." And then they both called

out so loud that the wood re-echoed: "Ah, thou darling child, do but

come to us again! We do so long for you; we cannot live without you!"

And it seemed, too, as though a bright beam of light came darting

through the trees, making the flowers lift up their heads as it touched

them. But though the children called upon their playfellow yet more

movingly, nothing made itself seen. They crept home in silence and

sadness. But their parents were very glad to see them, having been

exceedingly anxious about them during the storm. The baron said, "It is

a good thing that you are home again; for I confess I was afraid that

Tutor Ink was still hanging about somewhere in the wood, and on your

track."

Felix related all that had happened in the wood. "That is all stupid

nonsense," their mother said. "If you are to go dreaming all that sort

of stuff in the wood, you shan't be allowed to go there any more.

You'll have to stop at home." And indeed--although, when they begged

that they might be allowed to go back there, their mother yielded--it

so came about that they didn't care very much about doing it. Alas! the

Stranger Child was never there; and whenever they got far into the

wood, or reached the bank of the pond, they were jeered at by the

harper, the sportsman, and the doll, who cried to them, "Stupid things!

Senseless creatures! You must do without playthings. You didn't know

how to treat us clever, cultivated people--stupid things, senseless

creatures that you are!"

This being unendurable, the children preferred staying at home.

CONCLUSION.

"I don't know," said the baron to his lady one day, "what it is that

has been the matter with me for the last few days. I feel so queer and

so odd, that I could almost fancy Tutor Ink has put some spell upon me.

Ever since the moment when I hit him that crack with the fly-flapper,

all my limbs have felt like bits of lead."

And the baron did really grow weaker and paler, day by day. He gave up

walking about his grounds; he no longer went bustling about the house,

cheerily ordering matters as he used to do; he sat, hour after hour, in

deep meditation, and would get Felix and Christlieb to repeat to him,

over and over again, all about the Stranger Child; and when they spoke

eagerly of all the marvels connected with the Stranger Child, and of

the beautiful brilliant kingdom which was its home, he would give a

melancholy smile, and the tears would come to his eyes.

But Felix and Christlieb could not reconcile themselves to the

circumstance that the Stranger Child went on keeping aloof from them,

leaving them exposed to the nasty behaviour of those troublesome

puppets in the thicket and the duck pond, on account of which they did

not like now to frequent the wood at all.

But one morning, when it was fine and beautiful, the baron said, "Come

along, children; we'll go to the wood together, you and I. Master Ink's

nasty pupils shan't do you any harm." So he took them by the hands, and

they all three went together to the wood, which that day was fuller

than ever of bright sunshine, perfume, and song. When they had laid

themselves down amongst the tender grass, and the sweet-scented

flowers, the baron began as follows:--

"You dear children, I have for some time had a great longing to tell

you a thing, and I cannot delay doing so any longer. It is, that--once

on a time--I knew the beautiful Stranger Child that used to show you

such lovely things in the wood, just as well as you did yourselves.

When I was about your age, that child used to come to me too, and play

with me in the most wonderful way. How it was that it came to leave me,

I cannot quite remember; and I don't understand how I had so completely

forgotten all about it till you spoke to me about what had happened to

you, and then I didn't believe you, though I often had a sort of dim

consciousness that what you told me was the truth. But within the last

few days, I have been remembering and thinking about the delightful

days of my own boyhood, in a way that I have not been able to do for

many a long year. And then that beautiful magic-child came back to my

memory, bright and glorious, as you saw it yourselves; and the same

longing which filled your breasts came to mine too. But it is breaking

my heart! I feel, and I know quite well, that this is the last time

that I shall ever sit beneath these bonnie trees and bushes. I am going

to leave you very soon, and when I am dead and gone, you must cling

fast to that beautiful child."

Felix and Christlieb were beside themselves with grief and sorrow. They

wept and lamented, crying, "No, no, father; you are not going to die!

You have many a long year to be with us still, and to play with the

Stranger Child along with us."

But the next day, the baron lay sick in his bed. A tall, meagre man

came and felt his pulse, and said, "You'll soon be better!" But he was

not soon better. On the third day, the Baron von Brakel was no more.

Ah, how Frau von Brakel mourned! How the children wrung their hands and

cried, "Oh, father! our dear, dear father!"

Soon, when four peasants of Brakelheim had borne their master to his

grave, there came to the house some horrible fellows, almost like Tutor

Ink in appearance, and they told Frau von Brakel that they must take

possession of all the piece of land, and the house, and everything in

it, because the deceased baron owed all that, and more besides, to his

cousin, who could wait no longer for his money. So that Frau von Brakel

was a beggar, and had to go away from the pretty little village of

Brakelheim, where she had spent so many happy years, and go to live

with a relation not very far away. She and the children had to pack up

whatever little bits of clothes and effects they had left, and with

many tears take their leave, and set forth upon their way. As they

crossed the bridge, and heard the loud voice of the forest stream, Frau

von Brakel fell down in a swoon, and Felix and Christlieb sank on their

knees beside her, and cried, with many sobs and tears, "Oh, unfortunate

creatures that we are! Will no one take any pity on us?"

At that moment the distant rushing of the forest stream seemed

to turn into beautiful music. The thickets gave forth mysterious

sighs, and presently all the forest streamed with wonderful, sparkling

fires. And lo! the Stranger Child appeared, coming forth out of the

sweet-smelling leafage, surrounded by such a brilliant light and

radiance, that Felix and Christlieb had to shut their eyes at the

brightness of it. Then they felt themselves gently touched, and the

Stranger Child's beautiful voice said, "Oh, do not mourn so, dear

playmates of mine! Do I not love you as much as ever? Can I ever leave

you? No, no! Although you do not see me with your bodily eyes, I am

always with you and about you, helping you with all my power to be

always happy and fortunate. Only keep me in your hearts, as you have

done hitherto, and neither the wicked Pepser, nor any other adversary,

will have power to harm you. Only go on loving me truly and

faithfully."

"Oh, that we shall--that we shall!" the children cried. "We love you

with all our souls!"

When they were able to open their eyes again, the Stranger Child had

vanished; but all their pain was gone from them, and they felt that a

heavenly joy and gladness had arisen within their hearts. Frau von

Brakel recovered slowly from her swoon, and said, "Children, I saw you

in a dream. You seemed to be standing in a blaze of gleaming gold, and

the sight has strengthened and refreshed me in a wonderful way."

Delight beamed in the children's eyes, and shone in their cheeks. They

related how the Stranger Child had come to them and comforted them. And

their mother said, "I do not know how it is that I feel compelled to

believe in this story of yours to-day, nor how my believing in it seems

to have taken away all my sorrow and anxiety. Let us go on our way with

confidence."

They were kindly received and welcomed by their relatives, and all that

the Stranger Child promised came to pass. Whatever Felix and Christlieb

undertook was sure to prosper, and they and their mother became quite

happy. And, as their lives went on, they still, in dreams, played with

the Stranger Child, which, never ceased to bring to them the loveliest

wonders from its fairy home.

* * * * *

"No doubt," said Ottmar, when Lothair had finished, "your 'Stranger

Child' is more purely a story for children than your 'Nutcracker.'

Still, pardon me for saying so, you haven't been able to refrain from

introducing a certain number of your confounded flourishes, such as no

child could see to the bottom of."

"I," said Sylvester, "have long been acquainted with the little

Devilkin that sits on Lothair's shoulder like a tame squirrel. He can't

shut his ears to the strange things which the creature whispers to

him."

"At all events," said Cyprian, "he ought to call those stories, 'Tales

for Children, great and small,' instead of 'Tales for Children.'"

"Or," added Vincent, "'Tales for Children, and those who are not

children.' In this way the entire world would be able to take them up

and form their own opinion of them."

They all laughed, and Lothair, in comic anger, declared that in his

next he would give full rein to his inspiration, regardless of

consequences.

Midnight having struck, the friends said good-night, and separated in

the happiest of moods.

* * * * *

[Footnote 1: The time of Napoleon's Prussian operations is here meant.

Hoffmann passed through this in early life.--TRANS.]

[Footnote 2: This untranslateable expression means, "Sentence of death

is pronounced."--TRANSLATOR.]

[Footnote 3:

"Darling! remember well,

When I have passed away,

How this unchanging soul

Loves Thee for aye!

Though my poor ashes rest

Deep in the silent grave,

Ev'n in the urn of Death

Thee I adore!"]

[Footnote 4: I have omitted the words in question, as not now

possessing much interest.--TRANS.]

[Footnote 5: A celebrated master singer; as were also others,

subsequently mentioned as composers of "tones" or "manners" of

song.--TRANS.]

END OF VOLUME FIRST.

* * * * *

LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS. LIMITED.

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