WALTER FINDS AND LOSES A FRIEND.
"The field lies wide before you, where to reap
The noble harvest of a deathless name."
The pleasant town of Sallheim, in consequence of the exceeding beauty
of its situation, was a place of considerable resort. At the very end
of the long village the principal hotel, the Golden Crown, was placed.
A fine view of the enchanting valley below was to be seen from its
garden, and guests of all ages and ranks took refreshments under the
shade of its branching trees. The ninepin-alley was always full. A fine
band of music often played under the dense shadows cast by the lindens,
which attracted numberless visitors from both town and country. Upon
one bright afternoon in summer, such crowds of people arrived that
the garden was scarcely able to contain them all, for the next day
was to be the opening of the great annual fair. Wandering musicians,
organ-grinders, harpists, rope-dancers, men with puppet-shows, &c.
arrived, and put up at the Golden Crown, in hopes of earning a few
pennies from the rapidly gathering throng. Quite a crowd of people were
collected round a stout and athletic man, who was giving various proofs
of exceeding strength, such as tossing up cannon-balls in the air, and
catching them as they fell; balancing a table upon his teeth, upon
which his youngest daughter stood; while groups of eager children were
standing round a puppet-show, or listening to the music of the harp.
Two large pear-trees stood in the outer yard, with chairs and tables
placed under them, at a considerable distance from the noise and bustle
of the garden. A single person occupied this comparatively quiet spot.
He was a little man, not taller than most boys are at ten years of age;
his large head was set upon his high, broad shoulders, almost without
a visible neck; his chestnut-brown hair, which had fallen out from
the crown of his head, streamed long and thin over a high hump which
rose upon his back; his nose was large, and curved like the beak of
an eagle; his mouth was immense, and fully furnished with white and
glittering teeth; while his pale blue eyes, large and round, protruded
considerably from their sockets. He rested with his arms leaning upon
the table, and his hands, which from their size would have done honor
to a large man, were occupied in peeling an apple. Before him stood a
waiter, upon which were placed pears, nuts, bread, and wine. He looked
good-humored and contented. His coat was of dark, fine cloth; his linen
beautifully made, and as white as snow.
A little to the left of the pear-trees was seated a slight and
sunburnt boy, very meanly clad. A stout stick and a little bundle lay
near him on the ground, and a fiddle, wrapped up in a bright-colored
handkerchief, showed him to be a wandering musician, who came to try
his fortunes, with older men, at the fair. With his dark, curly head
supported by his left hand, he was busily engaged in devouring a great
bowl of bread and milk. It was Walter, the foundling, who had now been
wandering without a home for nearly three months, and who had found
some trouble in supporting himself by his playing. He travelled about
without any distinctive aim; sometimes he gained small sums of money,
for the beautiful boy often awakened a lively interest in his hearers;
but he was often forced to listen to harsh words and terms of reproach,
which wounded his very soul. He knew now that it was no easy thing to
make his own way through the world, and to become a great artist. But
he did not lose his courage; he rejoiced that through his almost hourly
practice he was constantly acquiring more facility upon his instrument,
and that he could play several long pieces, which he had picked up
in his wanderings, from hearing them executed by better performers
than himself. After Walter had finished his bowl of bread and milk,
he stretched his tired limbs out upon the bench, and sought repose.
For the first time he now observed his neighbor, whose remarkable
appearance at once chained his attention. The little man was eating
his nuts apparently with great satisfaction; he cracked them with
his sharp, strong teeth, and threw the shells about, right and left,
in quite a comical manner. A whole troop of boys, some of them from
the village, some of them guests at the inn, had gathered themselves
around him. They put their heads together, whispered, coughed, and
tittered, pointed their fingers at him, and mimicked all his movements.
He appeared to take no notice of them, but went on quietly eating
his nuts. This only made the mischievous boys more insolent; first
one cried, then another, and at last all together: "Nut-cracker!
nut-cracker! crack me a nut! Ha! ha! ha! Halloo! nut-cracker!"
The boys came nearer and nearer to him, and declared that, if some
one would pull him by the coat-tail, and then shove the very hardest
kind of nuts into his mouth, he could surely crack them. They then
determined to make the attempt; some of them pulled his coat-tail,
while others threw little stones at him. Walter could no longer endure
this derision of the stranger. Brandishing his heavy travelling stick
in his right hand, he suddenly sprang before the table of the humpback,
and said, with flashing eyes: "Shame! shame, boys! to behave so rudely!
Do you not see that he cannot protect himself against your mischief,
because he is weak? Shame! shame! to attack one who is weaker than
yourselves!"
The boys stopped their sport for a moment; but they rapidly consulted
together, and then hallooed: "What does that beggar-fellow dare to say
to us? He had better not try to master us! He's a pretty looking chap,
to be sure, to dare to scold us! Up, and catch him! Pound him, and beat
him, until he can move no longer!"
Part of the boys fell with loud shouts upon Walter, while others
threw stones at him. The boy parried their blows with his stick, and
defended himself bravely; but at last he must have yielded to numbers,
had not assistance come from the quarter from which he least expected
it. The little man, for whose sake he had encountered the storm, stood
suddenly beside him, tore the two boys who were trying to throw Walter
down away with great violence, shook them for a moment in the air, and
then threw them upon the ground. Then with his long arms and immense
hands he seized upon two other boys, and while he held them in the air
he cried, "You bad boys, if you don't let the little fiddler alone, and
go away quietly from here immediately, I will toss these two boys like
balls among you, and not one of you shall return alive to the house!"
The boys were seized with a sudden panic, and with loud shrieks ran
away. The man set his two trembling prisoners free, who rapidly fled to
join their companions. He then looked round after his little protector.
Walter was standing at the well, washing the blood from his still
bleeding brow, for he had been struck with a heavy stone. The little
man hastened to him, and said in a compassionate tone, "My brave little
defender, I hope you are not much hurt?"
"O no!" answered Walter, "I don't think it amounts to anything. But
don't be offended because I came to your aid. I thought you were weak,
and that I could help you; but you are very, very strong!"
"Yes, God be thanked! In giving me this strangely disproportioned form,
he gave me an extraordinary strength with it, in order that I might
be able to protect myself from the ill-treatment my odd appearance
might bring upon me. But the laughing and scoffing of bad boys makes,
in general, but little impression upon me, and I scarcely ever use my
strength, lest I might hurt them. You could not know that, my boy; and
that you alone among so many should have struggled to protect me is a
sure proof that you have a good heart. Come, child, let me put this
piece of healing plaster on your wound; I always carry some about with
me in my pocketbook. There, now! it is on, and it will quit bleeding.
Now sit down beside me, and tell me what your name is, and why it is
that your parents let you travel about alone, at such an early age."
Walter immediately did as he had been requested. The deformed and
exceedingly ugly man had won his entire confidence. He related his
whole history to him, without concealing anything.
The little man muttered, now and then, some almost unintelligible
words, and moved his thick head and short neck strangely about. After
Walter had finished his recital, he laid his large hand upon his dark
curls, and said friendlily to him: "My dear boy, if you continue to
travel about as you have done, from town to town, with your fiddle, you
will never become even a respectable man, much less a great artist;
for in this way you will never acquire any knowledge of music, or the
meaning of the word of God."
"Heaven help me!" sighed the boy; "what will become of me? what had I
better do? I cannot go back to Mother Bopp, for she would strike me
dead like a dog. Poor, forsaken boy that I am! nobody cares about me;
I am entirely neglected. Alas! alas! I have no parents to love me, as
other children have!" Thick tears coursed their rapid way over the rosy
cheeks of the deserted foundling.
"Be still, and do not weep, my poor child! You have a Father
above,--one who is a Father to us all,--who loves you, and will take
care of you."
"No, indeed, sir," said the child, while he looked full into the face
of the stranger, with his fearless and lustrous eyes, "no, no, I have
certainly no father!"
"Believe me, my dear son, you too have a Father,--a good and powerful
Father. He dwells above us, in the depths of the blue heavens, but he
is also everywhere upon the face of the earth. He sees you always, and
always takes care of you. His name is GOD, the Father."
"Indeed, sir, you are mistaken. I have heard that he has a great deal
to do, and a great many worlds to take care of. He don't trouble
himself about a poor, forsaken boy," said the child, sadly.
"And yet he has numbered the very hairs of your head, and not a single
one falls to the ground without his will," answered the stranger,
earnestly.
Walter gazed into his face with the greatest astonishment; then ran
his fingers through his thick curls, as if to convince himself anew
of their immense number, shook his head sadly, and said unbelievingly:
"No hair fall from my head without his will! It has also, then, been
his will that I should have been exposed in the hazel-bushes; and that
Mother Bopp should beat me so cruelly! No good father, that loved his
child, would suffer such cruel things to happen to him."
"My poor, dear boy!" answered the stranger, deeply touched, "God, the
good Father, has certainly permitted that you should have been forsaken
when an infant, and have been since so cruelly maltreated. Why he
suffered such things to be, and why he gave me a form so fantastic and
deformed, we cannot now know, but we shall know his merciful motives
when we no longer wear these earthly garments,--when we are with the
good Father in heaven. But it must certainly have been for our own
benefit: perhaps it was necessary for the salvation of our souls.
Believe me, this is true, my son. Trust firmly in the Father in heaven;
he is both good and powerful. Although you know so little about him,
he will take care of you, and manifest himself at the proper hour. But
the night is rapidly approaching, and I must go back to the town. Here,
my son, is enough to pay for your night's lodging. If you would like to
see me again, do not mingle with the people who attend the Fair,--the
organ-grinders, puppet-show men, and the like,--but come to the town in
the morning, and inquire for the house of Mr. Burg, the clock-maker;
and when you have found it, come in, and you shall not fare the worse
for our accidental meeting. Farewell, my poor boy! Trust in the Father
in heaven, and implore him for his gracious aid!" He rose rapidly,
pressed a guinea into the child's hand, and with long and powerful
strides left the inclosure.
Walter remained thoughtfully sitting upon the bench. At last, after a
long pause, he murmured lightly to himself: "The good God cares for me,
and no single hair falls from my head without his will; I must trust
in him! So the little man said." His voice grew more cheerful, and,
looking at the glitter of the gold which he still held in his hand, he
continued: "Then it was the good God who directed that I should meet
the kind little man, and that he should give me all this money just at
this moment, when I have not a single cent in my pocket, and did not
know how I should gain enough to pay for a night's lodging. Yes, that
must the good God have done! At any rate, I must thank him for it, for
the little man vanished so suddenly that I had no time to say a single
word to him."
Walter folded his hands, and made a short prayer, such as his childish
heart dictated to him. He then took his violin, went contentedly into
the house, and, as his benefactor had advised him to do, sought no
other companions, but went to bed alone, and soon fell asleep, full of
joyous hopes.
* * * * *
The high-road was filled with people, for the Fair enticed both sellers
and buyers to the neighboring town. As Walter walked cheerfully along
under the shadow of the tall chestnut-trees which bordered the highway,
he hummed a song, and thought of the good little man. Suddenly a coarse
voice cried to him: "Good morning, little fiddler! Are you going to
the town?"
Walter looked round, and recognized the stout, strong man whom he had
seen the day before, and who was walking close behind him. A little
cart, full of the most heterogeneous baggage, was drawn by a dog, and
driven by a boy of about Walter's own age. A maiden somewhat older
walked behind the cart, carrying a harp upon her back, and a still
smaller girl, who also took a part in the exhibitions of the family,
ran alongside. As Walter's eye rapidly glanced over the members of the
wandering household, he took off his hat, and politely answered the
salutation of the man.
"Now, boy, tell me, are you going to the town in order to earn
something there?" said the stout man to Walter.
"Yes, I am," answered Walter.
"Are you entirely alone, or do your parents expect you there?" the man
continued.
"I am entirely alone!" sighed the boy.
"And do you think it possible, you little fool, to get on by yourself?
Have you a passport and a certificate from your home?" "No! I have
neither. I did not know I should need them," answered Walter.
"I thought so! You are already in a scrape, then. There are officers
appointed by the government, whose duty it is to see that all strangers
possess such papers; they exact them from everybody, little and big,
and those who have them not are immediately taken up, and either put in
prison, or sent out of the country as nuisances and vagabonds."
"O, I am not at all afraid of that!" said Walter. "I know a good
gentleman in the town, who would certainly help me."
"Oh!" growled the man, "if you have an acquaintance in the town, that
is quite another thing! Rosa! Rosa! don't be running about so in every
direction! You'll tire yourself out before you come to the town, and
then you'll not be fit to do anything. Come to me, and I'll carry you a
little!"
He raised the little girl in his arms, and swung her upon his back. The
child, accustomed to this manner of being carried, fastened her arms
and feet around him, and from her new position commenced teasing and
tormenting her sister, in no very refined manner.
Walter began to dislike his companions, and to feel rather
uncomfortable with them, so he tried to walk faster than they were
doing so as to leave them behind, but the man hastened his steps,
and insisted upon keeping up with him. After a short time he said to
him: "Now, tell us, boy, what is the name of your acquaintance? If he
is rich and kind, he will probably give me, who am very poor indeed,
something worth looking at, if I make my children perform for him.
Where does he live?"
"His name is--is--I cannot think now of his name! Wait a minute! O yes!
He said I must ask for the house of--of--of--the clock-maker. Now, what
was the name? Merciful Heaven! Can I have forgotten his name? I will
certainly recall it in a moment or two."
"O my young fellow!" said the man, while he laughed very loud, "you are
really in a bad fix! A friend, whose very name you have forgotten,
will not help you out of the hands of the police."
"O, I shall certainly be able to recall it to my memory!" said Walter,
with the tears running down his cheeks.
"My poor child!" said the man, earnestly, "if you can't remember the
name before we arrive at the entrance of the town, from which we are
not more than a hundred feet distant, you are ruined. The police keep a
sharp look-out; without making any bones about it, they will seize you
by the throat, and throw you into some dark jail. Then, in the company
of rats, toads, and other monsters, you will have plenty of time to
think of the name of your kind acquaintance!"
"O good Heaven! In that case, I will not enter the town. I will return,
and remain in the village," sobbed the boy, and turned rapidly round to
take the direction back to the inn.
"I really pity you, poor little fellow!" said the man, while he held
him fast by the arm. "You will be able to earn nothing in the village,
but in the town you might do a sure business. I am a good-hearted
fellow,--I wish I could help you! H--m! h--m! let me think a minute!
How can I possibly do it?--Yes, yes! I have it now! You can stay with
me and labor with us. I can say you are my son. I have my papers in my
pocketbook, and they state that I, Christopher Pommer, am travelling
with my family. How can the police know whether I have one child more
or less? If you are satisfied with my proposal, you shall live with us.
I will furnish you with enough to eat and drink; you shall live with me
as one of my children, and I will give, in addition, a penny every day.
There, boy, you have found a good friend; everything found for you,
and a penny a day clear! You see I am rather a good-natured fool! Now,
then, are you agreed?"
"That depends upon what you will require me to do," said Walter,
doubtingly; "for I have never learned to twist about my limbs as you
do."
"Ah! it would take you a long time to learn that," answered the man,
laughingly. "You will only have to do what you like to do,--to play
upon the fiddle. My Minnie plays upon the harp; you can play together
in the different houses and in the streets, and all the money that the
people may give you for it you are to bring to me. You see it is only
out of the kindness of my heart that I offer to serve you, for Minnie
can earn as much without you as with you!"
It seemed to Walter that what the man said was true enough. It was
certain that Christopher Pommer and his family did not at all please
him; but then he had a perfect horror of jails and rats. Yet it was
with a feeling of irresistible repulsion that he entered into the
proposed arrangement.
"Well, then," said the man, with his harsh, disagreeable laugh, "we
must soon commence our preparations for business. What is your name, my
son?"
"Walter," he answered, with his head sinking upon his bosom.
"O boy, be more cheerful! Don't let your head hang down in such a way!
I must make you acquainted with your brothers and sisters, for we are
almost at home. Halloo, children! Come here! You must learn to know
your new brother. This is he. His name is Walter. Walter, this is
Minnie, with whom you are to play; this boy is Bastian; and the child
upon my back is little Rose."
"And this is Nero," cried Rose, as she pointed to the dog in the cart.
"True enough," said the man, "he belongs to the family, and earns his
own bread with the rest of us. Once for all, I tell you, children, you
had better behave yourselves properly, or--or--But here is our inn, the
Black Bear; here we are well known: we are good old friends. We will
take a bite of breakfast here, arrange our dress a little, and then go
to the town to seek work. Whoever brings the most money back with him
shall receive a double share. But when it strikes nine o'clock in the
evening, everybody must be at home. You, Walter, must first practise
a couple of hours with Minnie; then you will go through the town
together."
"Father," said Bastian, "am I not to go with Minnie, and play upon the
flute, as I always do?"
"No!" answered the father, gruffly; "you must go with me. You know we
were forced to leave your mother at home sick, and you must try to make
yourself as useful as possible. You must take the trumpet, and blow it
very loud, so as to attract a great many people."
"The boy you have picked up can do that. I am sure he looks strong
enough!" growled Bastian. "But as I have always been accustomed to go
about with Minnie, I don't intend to give it up to him,--and I will go
with her!"
"Don't mutter such nonsense, boy, or I will have to teach you
obedience." Then he whispered to the angry flutist: "Didn't you hear
how this little chap managed the fiddle yesterday? He knows something
about music, and plays very well; that is the reason why I tried to
frighten him into staying with us, with my stories about the police. Be
quiet instantly, so that he may not suspect my motives!"
In the mean time Walter and Minnie had entered the inn. As soon as they
had eaten their breakfast, they began to practise together. As Minnie
could only strike a few chords upon the harp, she could soon play a
simple accompaniment to some of Walter's pieces, and as he already knew
almost all of the tunes which Bastian had executed upon the flute, the
two children were ready at the appointed time to commence their musical
wanderings.
* * * * *
Three days and nights had elapsed since Walter had been adopted as a
member of the family of Pommer; but he already counted the days until
the fair should be over, when he might again wander about alone from
village to village, for he felt very unhappy in his present situation.
When he came back with Minnie in the evening tired and hungry to the
house, they were always harshly greeted, for Pommer never thought
they brought enough home, and constantly accused them of having, in
some way, wasted the money which they must have received. The penny
promised per day was never paid. Often and often Walter had to play
dances until daybreak, for the most degraded company, in the hall
of the inn. If he hesitated for a moment, or complained of fatigue,
Pommer threatened to deliver him up to the police, and the fear he
entertained of dark prisons and rats soon brought him to yield to the
most unreasonable demands.
One evening when Walter had played for the disorderly dancers until
long after midnight, when he was at last released and sought his
wretched bed of straw, he found Pommer, in a state of complete
intoxication, stretched across it in such a way that it was quite
impossible for him to find any place upon which to rest his tired
limbs. He slipped back into the hall of the inn, and threw himself, in
discomfort and dust, upon the hard bench. The tears unconsciously and
rapidly streamed from his eyes.
"Ah, how unfortunate I am!" he sighed; "I am again entirely forsaken.
The little man, whose name I have so unfortunately forgotten, indeed
told me that I was not forsaken, and that nothing could happen to me
without the will of God. But everything goes wrong with me; what is to
become of me? If it is indeed God's will that I should be so miserable
and so forsaken upon earth, it would be far better for me to die! O
thou good God in the far heavens! if it be indeed true that thou canst
see and hear me now, I beg thee with all my soul, let things, if only
for this one time, go well with me! O free me from these wicked men,
who may perhaps succeed in making me as worthless as they themselves
are! Hast thou really seen Father Pommer this very evening putting his
hand into the pocket of the red-faced soldier, and stealing his purse
from it? Dost thou not know that it must be a very sad thing for me to
be forced to call a thief father? O if I only knew if my own father
yet lived, and where I could find him! Lead me to him, thou good God,
and grant that he may be a kind one! But if he is really dead, then at
least take me out of the hands of these bad men!
"The little man told me that thou wert my Father in heaven: that thou
thyself lovedst me! O dear Father so far above me! I would so like
to have a father upon earth, who could teach how to do right,--how to
avoid wrong! Do send me one! I will love thee so dearly if thou wilt!
I will always obey thee and thank thee! O remember how early I was
forsaken,--into what cruel hands I have always fallen! O thou Father
above, listen to the cries of the forlorn orphan! Pray, pray, pray
listen!"
The boy sank to sleep with these prayers on his lips; these sad
thoughts in his soul.
At daylight in the morning he was wakened by the harsh voice of Pommer,
and in a few moments he was again with Minnie in the street.