The following adventure was first related by a jolly young German, who
said he was acquainted with a friend of the very person to whom it
occurred.
Once upon a time, a poor musician who lived in the neighbourhood of
Hildesheim, an old town in the former kingdom of Hanover, went home late
at night from a lonely mill, where he had been playing dance-tunes at a
christening festivity. The mill is still extant. Its name is Die
Mordm¸hle (The Murder Mill), probably because something dreadful may
have happened there years ago. His way led him past a cliff in which
there was a dwarf's hole. When he cast a glance at the hole, he saw, to
his amazement, sitting before it a dwarf, not more than three feet high.
Scarcely had he recovered from his first fright, when suddenly he felt
himself seized by invisible hands and drawn under ground many miles deep
into the mountain. All this occurred in a moment's time. Immediately the
poor musician found that he had been transported into a beautiful hall,
illuminated with many thousand lights of various brilliant colours. The
flooring of the hall was of pure silver, and the walls were all of the
purest gold: the chandeliers were of emeralds and diamonds.
Presently the dwarfs desired the musician to play his best tunes. While
playing, he heard quite unmistakably the little folks dancing to his
music; he also heard them coughing, giggling, and laughing; but he did
not see any being except the dwarf who had taken him there. After a
little while the same dwarf brought in a bottle of exquisitely fine
wine, and placed it before the musician. When the poor fiddler had
helped himself repeatedly from the bottle, he began to feel more at his
ease, and became a little talkative.
"Well, my good master," he said, "I am playing and playing here one tune
after another, and hear all kinds of noises; but I see no Christian soul
but yourself: could I not have just a look at the gentlefolks whom I
have the honour of serving with my music?"
To this sensible request the dwarf replied: "By all means! There is no
danger in that. Just take my hat and put it on thy head."
As soon as the musician had placed the dwarf's large round hat on his
head, he saw the hall crowded with thousands of little pigmy ladies and
gentlemen, very smartly dressed, who were promenading up and down,
bowing and curtseying to each other; and with them were some little
children, certainly not bigger than a thumb. After having played a
country-dance to conclude the ball, the musician was dismissed, but not
before the dwarf who had brought him there had filled his pockets with
wood shavings, of which a large heap lay stored up just near the
entrance of the hall.
"Of what use is that stuff to me!" thought the musician; and the first
thing he did, when he found himself again free in the open air, was to
empty his pockets and throw all the shavings into the road. Heartily
tired he reached his home. On the following morning he put his hand into
his coat pocket to ascertain if perchance any of the shavings remained;
when, Lo! what should he draw out, but a piece of the purest gold!
Directly he set off again to the road where he had disencumbered himself
of the shavings the night before. But he could find nothing; all traces
of the treasure had disappeared.[67]