inquiry. "I am the King of what you mortals call the Golden River. The
shape you saw me in, was owing to the malice of a stronger king, from
whose enchantments you have this instant freed me. What I have seen of
you, and your conduct to your wicked brothers, renders me willing to
serve you; therefore, attend to what I tell you. Whoever shall climb
to the top of that mountain from which you see the Golden River issue,
and shall cast into the stream at its source, three drops of holy
water, for him, and for him only, the river shall turn to gold. But no
one failing in his first, can succeed in a second attempt; and if any
one shall cast unholy water into the river, it will overwhelm him, and
he will become a black stone." So saying, the King of the Golden River
turned away and deliberately walked into the centre of the hottest
flame of the furnace. His figure became red, white, transparent,
dazzling,--a blaze of intense light,--rose, trembled, and disappeared.
The King of the Golden River had evaporated.
"Oh!" cried poor Gluck, running to look up the chimney after him; "Oh,
dear, dear, dear me! My mug! my mug! my mug!"
The King of the Golden River had hardly made the extraordinary exit
related in the last chapter, before Hans and Schwartz came roaring
into the house, very savagely drunk. The discovery of the total loss
of their last piece of plate had the effect of sobering them just
enough to enable them to stand over Gluck, beating him very steadily
for a quarter of an hour; at the expiration of which period they
dropped into a couple of chairs, and requested to know what he had got
to say for himself. Gluck told them his story, of which, of course,
they did not believe a word. They beat him again, till their arms were
tired, and staggered to bed. In the morning, however, the steadiness
with which he adhered to his story obtained him some degree of
credence; the immediate consequence of which was, that the two
brothers, after wrangling a long time on the knotty question, which of
them should try his fortune first, drew their swords and began
fighting. The noise of the fray alarmed the neighbours, who, finding
they could not pacify the combatants, sent for the constable.
Hans, on hearing this, contrived to escape, and hid himself; but
Schwartz was taken before the magistrate, fined for breaking the
peace, and, having drunk out his last penny the evening before, was
thrown into prison till he should pay.
When Hans heard this, he was much delighted, and determined to set out
immediately for the Golden River. How to get the holy water, was the
question. He went to the priest, but the priest could not give any
holy water to so abandoned a character. So Hans went to vespers in the
evening for the first time in his life, and, under pretence of
crossing himself, stole a cupful, and returned home in triumph.
Next morning he got up before the sun rose, put the holy water into a
strong flask, and two bottles of wine and some meat in a basket, slung
them over his back, took his alpine staff in his hand, and set off for
the mountains.
On his way out of the town he had to pass the prison, and as he looked
in at the windows, whom should he see but Schwartz himself peeping out
of the bars, and looking very disconsolate.
"Good morning, brother," said Hans; "have you any message for the King
of the Golden River?"
Schwartz gnashed his teeth with rage, and shook the bars with all his
strength; but Hans only laughed at him, and advising him to make
himself comfortable till he came back again, shouldered his basket,
shook the bottle of holy water in Schwartz's face till it frothed
again, and marched off in the highest spirits in the world.
It was, indeed, a morning that might have made any one happy, even
with no Golden River to seek for. Level lines of dewy mist lay
stretched along the valley, out of which rose the massy mountains--their
lower cliffs in pale grey shadow, hardly distinguishable from the
floating vapour, but gradually ascending till they caught the
sunlight, which ran in sharp touches of ruddy colour, along the
angular crags, and pierced, in long level rays, through their fringes
of spear-like pine. Far above, shot up red splintered masses of
castellated rock, jagged and shivered into myriads of fantastic forms,
with here and there a streak of sunlit snow, traced down their chasms
like a line of forked lightning; and, far beyond, and far above all
these, fainter than the morning cloud, but purer and changeless,
slept, in the blue sky, the utmost peaks of the eternal snow.
The Golden River, which sprang from one of the lower and snowless
elevations, was now nearly in shadow; all but the uppermost jets of
spray, which rose like slow smoke above the undulating line of the
cataract, and floated away in feeble wreaths upon the morning wind.
On this object, and on this alone, Hans' eyes and thoughts were fixed;
forgetting the distance he had to traverse, he set off at an imprudent
rate of walking, which greatly exhausted him before he had scaled the
first range of the green and low hills. He was, moreover, surprised,
on surmounting them, to find that a large glacier, of whose existence,
notwithstanding his previous knowledge of the mountains, he had been
absolutely ignorant, lay between him and the source of the Golden
River. He entered on it with the boldness of a practised mountaineer;
yet he thought he had never traversed so strange or so dangerous a
glacier in his life. The ice was excessively slippery, and out of all
its chasms came wild sounds of gushing water; not monotonous or low,
but changeful and loud, rising occasionally into drifting passages of
wild melody, then breaking off into short melancholy tones, or sudden
shrieks, resembling those of human voices in distress or pain. The ice
was broken into thousands of confused shapes, but none, Hans thought,
like the ordinary forms of splintered ice. There seemed a curious
_expression_ about all their outlines--a perpetual resemblance to
living features, distorted and scornful. Myriads of deceitful shadows,
and lurid lights, played and floated about and through the pale blue
pinnacles, dazzling and confusing the sight of the traveller; while
his ears grew dull and his head giddy with the constant gush and roar
of the concealed waters. These painful circumstances increased upon
him as he advanced; the ice crashed and yawned into fresh chasms at
his feet, tottering spires nodded around him, and fell thundering
across his path; and though he had repeatedly faced these dangers on
the most terrific glaciers, and in the wildest weather, it was with a
new and oppressive feeling of panic terror that he leaped the last
chasm, and flung himself, exhausted and shuddering, on the firm turf
of the mountain.
He had been compelled to abandon his basket of food, which became a
perilous incumbrance on the glacier, and had now no means of
refreshing himself but by breaking off and eating some of the pieces
of ice. This, however, relieved his thirst; an hour's repose recruited
his hardy frame, and with the indomitable spirit of avarice, he
resumed his laborious journey.
His way now lay straight up a ridge of bare red rocks, without a blade
of grass to ease the foot, or a projecting angle to afford an inch of
shade from the south sun. It was past noon, and the rays beat
intensely upon the steep path, while the whole atmosphere was
motionless, and penetrated with heat. Intense thirst was soon added to
the bodily fatigue with which Hans was now afflicted; glance after
glance he cast on the flask of water which hung at his belt. "Three
drops are enough," at last thought he; "I may, at least, cool my lips
with it."
He opened the flask, and was raising it to his lips, when his eye fell
on an object lying on the rock beside him; he thought it moved. It was
a small dog, apparently in the last agony of death from thirst. Its
tongue was out, its jaws dry, its limbs extended lifelessly, and a
swarm of black ants were crawling about its lips and throat. Its eye
moved to the bottle which Hans held in his hand. He raised it, drank,
spurned the animal with his foot, and passed on. And he did not know
how it was, but he thought that a strange shadow had suddenly come
across the blue sky.
The path became steeper and more rugged every moment; and the high
hill air, instead of refreshing him, seemed to throw his blood into a
fever. The noise of the hill cataracts sounded like mockery in his
ears; they were all distant, and his thirst increased every moment.
Another hour passed, and he again looked down to the flask at his
side; it was half empty; but there was much more than three drops in
it. He stopped to open it, and again, as he did so, something moved in
the path above him.
It was a fair child, stretched nearly lifeless on the rock, its breast
heaving with thirst, its eyes closed, and its lips parched and
burning. Hans eyed it deliberately, drank, and passed on. And a dark
grey cloud came over the sun, and long, snakelike shadows crept up
along the mountain sides. Hans struggled on. The sun was sinking, but
its descent seemed to bring no coolness; the leaden weight of the dead
air pressed upon his brow and heart, but the goal was near. He saw the
cataract of the Golden River springing from the hill-side, scarcely
five hundred feet above him. He paused for a moment to breathe, and
sprang on to complete his task.
At this instant a faint cry fell on his ear. He turned and saw a
grey-haired old man extended on the rocks. His eyes were sunk, his
features deadly pale, and gathered into an expression of despair.
"Water!" he stretched his arms to Hans, and cried feebly, "Water! I am
dying."
"I have none," replied Hans; "thou hast had thy share of life." He
strode over the prostrate body, and darted on. And a flash of blue
lightning rose out of the East, shaped like a sword; it shook thrice
over the whole heaven, and left it dark with one heavy, impenetrable
shade. The sun was setting; it plunged towards the horizon like a
red-hot ball.
The roar of the Golden River rose on Hans' ear. He stood at the brink
of the chasm through which it ran.
Its waves were filled with the red glory of the sunset: they shook
their crests like tongues of fire, and flashes of bloody light gleamed
along their foam. Their sound came mightier and mightier on his
senses; his brain grew giddy with the prolonged thunder. Shuddering he
drew the flask from his girdle, and hurled it into the center of the
torrent. As he did so, an icy chill shot through his limbs: he
staggered, shrieked, and fell. The waters closed over his cry. And the
moaning of the river rose wildly into the night, as it gushed over
THE BLACK STONE
* * * * *
Poor little Gluck waited very anxiously alone in the house, for Hans'
return. Finding he did not come back, he was terribly frightened, and
went and told Schwartz in the prison, all that had happened. Then
Schwartz was very much pleased, and said that Hans must certainly have
been turned into a black stone, and he should have all the gold to
himself. But Gluck was very sorry, and cried all night. When he got up
in the morning, there was no bread in the house, nor any money; so
Gluck went, and hired himself to another goldsmith, and he worked so
hard, and so neatly, and so long every day, that he soon got money
enough together to pay his brother's fine; and he went, and gave it
all to Schwartz, and Schwartz got out of prison. Then Schwartz was
quite pleased, and said he should have some of the gold of the river.
But Gluck only begged he would go and see what had become of Hans.
Now when Schwartz had heard that Hans had stolen the holy water, he
thought to himself that such a proceeding might not be considered
altogether correct by the King of the Golden River, and determined to
manage matters better. So he took some more of Gluck's money, and went
to a bad man, who gave him some holy water very readily for it. Then
Schwartz was sure it was all quite right. So Schwartz got up early in
the morning before the sun rose, and took some bread and wine, in a
basket, and put his holy water in a flask, and set off for the
mountains. Like his brother he was much surprised at the sight of the
glacier, and had great difficulty in crossing it, even after leaving
his basket behind him. The day was cloudless, but not bright: there
was a heavy purple haze hanging over the sky, and the hills looked
lowering and gloomy. And as Schwartz climbed the steep rock path, the
thirst came upon him, as it had upon his brother, until he lifted his
flask to his lips to drink. Then he saw the fair child lying near him
on the rocks, and it cried to him, and moaned for water.
"Water, indeed," said Schwartz; "I haven't half enough for myself,"
and passed on. And as he went he thought the sunbeams grew more dim,
and he saw a low bank of black cloud rising out of the West; and, when
he had climbed for another hour, the thirst overcame him again, and he
would have drunk.
Then he saw the old man lying before him on the path, and heard him
cry out for water. "Water, indeed," said Schwartz, "I haven't half
enough for myself," and on he went.
Then again the light seemed to fade from before his eyes, and he
looked up, and, behold, a mist, of the colour of blood, had come over
the sun; and the bank of black cloud had risen very high, and its
edges were tossing and tumbling like the waves of the angry sea. And
they cast long shadows, which flickered over Schwartz's path.
Then Schwartz climbed for another hour, and again his thirst returned;
and as lifted his flask to his lips he thought he saw his brother Hans
lying exhausted on the path before him, and, as he gazed, the figure
stretched its arms to him, and cried for water. "Ha, ha," laughed
Schwartz, "are you there? Remember the prison bars, my boy. Water,
indeed! Do you suppose I carried it all the way up here for _you_?"
And he strode over the figure; yet, as he passed, he thought he saw a
strange expression of mockery about its lips. And, when he had gone a
few yards farther, he looked back; but the figure was not there.
And a sudden horror came over Schwartz, he knew not why; but the
thirst for gold prevailed over his fear, and he rushed on. And the
bank of black cloud rose to the zenith, and out of it came bursts of
spiry lightning, and waves of darkness seemed to heave and float
between their flashes, over the whole heavens. And the sky where the
sun was setting was all level, and like a lake of blood; and a strong
wind came out of that sky, tearing its crimson clouds into fragments,
and scattering them far into the darkness. And when Schwartz stood by
the brink of the Golden River, its waves were black, like thunder
clouds, but their foam was like fire; and the roar of the waters
below, and the thunder above met, as he cast the flask into the
stream.
And, as he did so, the lightning glared in his eyes, and the earth
gave way beneath him, and the waters closed over his cry. And the
moaning of the river rose wildly into the night, as it gushed over the
TWO BLACK STONES
* * * * *
When Gluck found that Schwartz did not come back, he was very sorry,
and did not know what to do. He had no money, and was obliged to go
and hire himself again to the goldsmith, who worked him very hard, and
gave him very little money. So, after a month or two Gluck grew tired,
and made up his mind to go and try his fortune with the Golden River.
"The little king looked very kind," thought he. "I don't think he will
turn me into a black stone." So he went to the priest, and the priest
gave him some holy water as soon as he asked for it. Then Gluck took
some bread in his basket, and the bottle of water, and set off very
early for the mountains.
If the glacier had occasioned a great deal of fatigue to his brothers,
it was twenty times worse for him, who was neither so strong nor so
practised on the mountains. He had several very bad falls, lost his
basket and bread, and was very much frightened at the strange noises
under the ice. He lay a long time to rest on the grass, after he had
got over, and began to climb the hill just in the hottest part of the
day. When he had climbed for an hour, he got dreadfully thirsty, and
was going to drink like his brothers, when he saw an old man coming
down the path above him, looking very feeble, and leaning on a staff.
"My son," said the old man, "I am faint with thirst; give me some of
that water." Then Gluck looked at him, and when he saw that he was
pale and weary, he gave him the water; "Only pray don't drink it all,"
said Gluck. But the old man drank a great deal, and gave him back the
bottle two-thirds empty. Then he bade him good speed, and Gluck went
on again merrily. And the path became easier to his feet, and two or
three blades of grass appeared upon it, and some grasshoppers began
singing on the bank beside it; and Gluck thought he had never heard
such merry singing.
Then he went on for another hour, and the thirst increased on him so
that he thought he should be forced to drink. But, as he raised the
flask, he saw a little child lying panting by the road-side, and it
cried out piteously for water. Then Gluck struggled with himself, and
determined to bear the thirst a little longer; and he put the bottle
to the child's lips, and it drank it all but a few drops. Then it
smiled on him, and got up, and ran down the hill; and Gluck looked
after it, till it became as small as a little star, and then turned
and began climbing again. And then there were all kinds of sweet
flowers growing on the rocks, bright green moss, with pale pink starry
flowers, and soft belled gentians, more blue than the sky at its
deepest, and pure white transparent lilies. And crimson and purple
butterflies darted hither and thither, and the sky sent down such pure
light, that Gluck had never felt so happy in his life.
Yet, when he had climbed for another hour, his thirst became
intolerable again; and, when he looked at his bottle, he saw that
there were only five or six drops left in it, and he could not venture
to drink. And, as he was hanging the flask to his belt again, he saw a
little dog lying on the rocks, gasping for breath--just as Hans had
seen it on the day of his ascent. And Gluck stopped and looked at it,
and then at the Golden River, not five hundred yards above him; and he
thought of the dwarf's words, "that no one could succeed, except in
his first attempt;" and he tried to pass the dog, but it whined
piteously, and Gluck stopped again. "Poor beastie," said Gluck, "it'll
be dead when I come down again, if I don't help it." Then he looked
closer and closer at it, and its eye turned on him so mournfully, that
he could not stand it. "Confound the king and his gold too," said
Gluck; and he opened the flask, and poured all the water into the
dog's mouth.
The dog sprang up and stood on its hind legs. Its tail disappeared,
its ears became long, longer, silky, golden; its nose became very red,
its eyes became very twinkling; in three seconds the dog was gone, and
before Gluck stood his old acquaintance, the King of the Golden River.
"Thank you," said the monarch; "but don't be frightened, it's all
right;" for Gluck showed manifest symptoms of consternation at this
unlooked-for reply to his last observation. "Why didn't you come
before," continued the dwarf, "instead of sending me those rascally
brothers of yours, for me to have the trouble of turning into stones?
Very hard stones they make too."
"Oh dear me!" said Gluck, "have you really been so cruel?"
"Cruel!" said the dwarf, "they poured unholy water into my stream; do
you suppose I'm going to allow that?"
"Why," said Gluck, "I am sure, sir--your majesty, I mean--they got the
water out of the church font."
"Very probably," replied the dwarf; "but," and his countenance grew
stern as he spoke, "the water which has been refused to the cry of the
weary and dying, is unholy, though it had been blessed by every saint
in heaven; and the water which is found in the vessel of mercy is
holy, though it had been defiled with corpses."
So saying, the dwarf stooped and plucked a lily that grew at his feet.
On its white leaves there hung three drops of clear dew. And the dwarf
shook them into the flask which Gluck held in his hand. "Cast these
into the river," he said, "and descend on the other side of the
mountains into the Treasure Valley. And so good speed."
As he spoke, the figure of the dwarf became indistinct. The playing
colours of his robe formed themselves into a prismatic mist of dewy
light: he stood for an instant veiled with them as with the belt of a
broad rainbow. The colours grew faint, the mist rose into the air; the
monarch had evaporated.
And Gluck climbed to the brink of the Golden River, and its waves were
as clear as crystal, and as brilliant as the sun. And, when he cast
the three drops of dew into the stream, there opened where they fell,
a small circular whirlpool, into which the waters descended with a
musical noise.
Gluck stood watching it for some time, very much disappointed, because
not only the river was not turned into gold, but its waters seemed
much diminished in quantity. Yet he obeyed his friend the dwarf, and
descended the other side of the mountains, towards the Treasure
Valley; and, as he went, he thought he heard the noise of water
working its way under the ground. And, when he came in sight of the
Treasure Valley, behold, a river, like the Golden River, was springing
from a new cleft of the rocks above it, and was flowing in innumerable
streams among the dry heaps of red sand.
And as Gluck gazed, fresh grass sprang beside the new streams, and
creeping plants grew, and climbed among the moistening soil. Young
flowers opened suddenly along the river sides, as stars leap out when
twilight is deepening, and thickets of myrtle, and tendrils of vine,
cast lengthening shadows over the valley as they grew. And thus the
Treasure Valley became a garden again, and the inheritance, which had
been lost by cruelty, was regained by love.
And Gluck went, and dwelt in the valley, and the poor were never
driven from his door: so that his barns became full of corn, and his
house of treasure. And, for him, the river had, according to the
dwarf's promise, become a River of Gold.
And, to this day, the inhabitants of the valley point out the place
where the three drops of holy dew were cast into the stream, and trace
the course of the Golden River under the ground, until it emerges in
the Treasure Valley. And at the top of the cataract of the Golden
River, are still to be seen TWO BLACK STONES, round which the waters
howl mournfully every day at sunset; and these stones are still called
by the people of the valley
THE BLACK BROTHERS
THE TWO GIFTS
By Lillian M. Gask
A heavy snow-storm was raging, and great soft flakes fell through the
air like feathers shaken from the wings of an innumerable host of
angels. By the side of the roadway sat a poor old woman, her scanty
clothing affording but poor protection from the icy blast of the wind.
She was very hungry, for she had tasted no food that day, but her
faded eyes were calm and patient, telling of an unwavering trust in
Providence. Perhaps, she thought, some traveller might come that way
who would take compassion on her, and give her alms; then she could
return to the garret that she called "home," with bread to eat, and
fuel to kindle a fire.
The day drew in, and still she sat and waited. At last a traveller
approached. The thick snow muffled every sound, and she was not aware
of his coming until his burly figure loomed before her. Her plaintive
voice made him turn with a start.
"Poor woman," he cried, pausing to look at her very pityingly. "It is
hard for you to be out in such weather as this." Then he passed on,
without giving her anything; his conscience told him that he ought to
have relieved her, but he did not feel inclined to take off his thick
glove in that bitter cold, and without doing this he could not have
found a coin.
The poor woman was naturally disappointed, but she was grateful for
his kind words. By-and-by another traveller appeared. This one was
driving in a splendid carriage, warmly wrapped in a great fur cloak.
As he caught sight of the poor creature by the roadside, he felt
vaguely touched by the contrast of his own comfort with her misery.
Obeying a sudden impulse, with one hand he let down the carriage
window and signed to his coachman to stop, and with the other felt in
his pocket. The poor old woman hurried up to the carriage, a thrill of
hope bringing a tinge of colour to her pale and withered cheeks.
"How terribly cold it is!" exclaimed the rich man, and as he took his
hand from his pocket, and held out a coin to her, he noticed that
instead of silver he was about to give her a piece of gold.