The origin of our biographer cannot be traced with any degree of
certainty, owing to the loss of the first part of his manuscript. It is,
however, pretty clear that he was not a Pomeranian, as he says he was in
Silesia in his youth, and mentions relations scattered far and wide, not
only at Hamburg and Cologne, but even at Antwerp; above all, his south
German language betrays a foreign origin, and he makes use of words which
are, I believe, peculiar to Swabia. He must, however, have been living for
a long time in Pomerania at the time he wrote, as he even more frequently
uses Low-German expressions, such as occur in contemporary native
Pomeranian writers.
Since he sprang from an ancient noble family, as he says on several
occasions, it is possible that some particulars relating to the
Schweidlers might be discovered in the family records of the seventeenth
century which would give a clew to his native country; but I have sought
for that name in all the sources of information accessible to me, in vain,
and am led to suspect that our author, like many of his contemporaries,
laid aside his nobility and changed his name when he took holy orders.
I will not, however, venture on any further conjectures; the manuscript,
of which six chapters are missing, begins with the words "Imperialists
plundered," and evidently the previous pages must have contained an
account of the breaking out of the Thirty Years' War in the island of
Usedom. It goes on as follows:--
"Coffers, chests, and closets were all plundered and broken to pieces,
and my surplice also was torn, so that I remained in great distress and
tribulation. But my poor little daughter they did not find, seeing that
I had hidden her in the stable, which was dark, without which I doubt
not they would have made my heart heavy indeed. The lewd dogs would even
have been rude to my old maid Ilse, a woman hard upon fifty, if an old
cornet had not forbidden them. Wherefore I gave thanks to my Maker when
the wild guests were gone, that I had first saved my child from their
clutches, although not one dust of flour, nor one grain of corn, one
morsel of meat even of a finger's length was left, and I knew not how I
should any longer support my own life, and my poor child's. _Item_, I
thanked God that I had likewise secured the _vasa sacra_, which I had
forthwith buried in the church in front of the altar, in presence of the
two churchwardens, Hinrich Seden and Claus Bulken, of Uekeritze,
commending them to the care of God. And now because, as I have already
said, I was suffering the pangs of hunger, I wrote to his lordship the
Sheriff Wittich V. Appelmann, at Pudgla, that for the love of God and
his holy Gospel he should send me that which his highness' grace
Philippus Julius had allowed me as _praestanda_ from the convent at
Pudgla, to wit, thirty bushels of barley and twenty-five marks of
silver, which, howbeit his lordship had always withheld from me hitherto
(for he was a very hard inhuman man, as he despised the holy Gospel and
the preaching of the Word, and openly, without shame, reviled the
servants of God, saying that they were useless feeders, and that Luther
had but half cleansed the pigstye of the Church--God mend it!). But he
answered me nothing, and I should have perished for want if Hinrich
Seden had not begged for me in the parish. May God reward the honest
fellow for it in eternity! Moreover, he was then growing old, and was
sorely plagued by his wicked wife Lizzie Kolken. Methought when I
married them that it would not turn out over well, seeing that she was
in common report of having long lived in unchastity with Wittich
Appelmann, who had ever been an arch-rogue, and especially an arrant
whoremaster, and such the Lord never blesses. This same Seden now
brought me five loaves, two sausages, and a goose, which old goodwife
Paal, at Loddin, had given him; also a flitch of bacon from the farmer
Jack Tewert. But he said I must shield him from his wife, who would have
had half for herself, and when he denied her she cursed him, and wished
him gout in his head, whereupon he straightway felt a pain in his right
cheek, and it was quite hard and heavy already. At such shocking news I
was affrighted, as became a good pastor, and asked whether peradventure
he believed that she stood in evil communication with Satan, and could
bewitch folks? But he said nothing, and shrugged his shoulders. So I
sent for old Lizzie to come to me, who was a tall, meagre woman of about
sixty, with squinting eyes, so that she could not look any one in the
face; likewise with quite red hair, and indeed her goodman had the same.
But though I diligently admonished her out of God's Word, she made no
answer until at last I said, 'Wilt thou unbewitch thy goodman (for I
saw from the window how that he was raving in the street like a madman),
or wilt thou that I should inform the magistrate of thy deeds?' Then,
indeed, she gave in, and promised that he should soon be better (and so
he was); moreover she begged that I would give her some bread and some
bacon, inasmuch as it was three days since she had a bit of anything to
put between her lips, saving always her tongue. So my daughter gave her
half a loaf, and a piece of bacon about two handsbreadths large; but she
did not think it enough, and muttered between her teeth; whereupon my
daughter said, 'If thou art not content, thou old witch, go thy ways and
help thy goodman; see how he has laid his head on Zabel's fence, and
stamps with his feet for pain.' Whereupon she went away, but still kept
muttering between her teeth, 'Yea, forsooth, I will help him and thee
too.'"
_The Seventh Chapter_
HOW THE IMPERIALISTS ROBBED ME OF ALL THAT WAS LEFT, AND LIKEWISE BROKE
INTO THE CHURCH AND STOLE THE _VASA SACRA_; ALSO WHAT MORE BEFELL US
After a few days, when we had eaten almost all our food, my last cow fell
down dead (the wolves had already devoured the others, as mentioned
above), not without a strong suspicion that Lizzie had a hand in it,
seeing that the poor beast had eaten heartily the day before; but I leave
that to a higher judge, seeing that I would not willingly calumniate any
one; and it may have been the will of God, whose wrath I have well
deserved. _Summa_, I was once more in great need, and my daughter Mary
pierced my heart with her sighs, when the cry was raised that another
troop of Imperialists was come to Uekeritze, and was marauding there more
cruelly than ever, and, moreover, had burnt half the village. Wherefore I
no longer thought myself safe in my cottage; and after I had commended
everything to the Lord in a fervent prayer, I went up with my daughter and
old Ilse into the Streckelberg, where I already had looked out for
ourselves a hole like a cavern, well grown over with brambles, against the
time when the troubles should drive us thither. We therefore took with us
all we had left to us for the support of our bodies, and fled into the
woods, sighing and weeping, whither we soon were followed by the old men,
and the women and children; these raised a great cry of hunger when they
saw my daughter sitting on a log and eating a bit of bread and meat, and
the little things came with their tiny hands stretched out and cried "Have
some too, have some too." Therefore, being justly moved by such great
distress, I hindered not my daughter from sharing all the bread and meat
that remained among the hungry children. But first I made them pray--"The
eyes of all wait upon thee"; upon which words I then spake comfortably to
the people, telling them that the Lord, who had now fed their little
children, would find means to fill their own bellies, and that they must
not be weary of trusting in him.
This comfort did not, however, last long; for after we had rested within
and around the cavern for about two hours, the bells in the village began
to ring so dolefully that it went nigh to break all our hearts, the more
as loud firing was heard between-whiles; _item_, the cries of men and the
barking of dogs resounded, so that we could easily guess that the enemy
was in the village. I had enough to do to keep the women quiet, that they
might not by their senseless lamentations betray our hiding-place to the
cruel enemy; and more still when it began to smell smoky, and presently
the bright flames gleamed through the trees. I therefore sent old Paasch
up to the top of the hill, that he might look around and see how matters
stood, but told him to take good care that they did not see him from the
village, seeing that the twilight had but just begun.
This he promised, and soon returned with the news that about twenty
horsemen had galloped out of the village towards the Damerow, but that
half the village was in flames. _Item_, he told us that by a wonderful
dispensation of God a great number of birds had appeared in the
juniper-bushes and elsewhere, and that if we could catch them they would be
excellent food for us. I therefore climbed up the hill myself, and having
found everything as he had said, and also perceived that the fire had, by
the help of God's mercy, abated in the village; _item_, that my cottage
was left standing, far beyond my merits and deserts; I came down again and
comforted the people, saying, "The Lord hath given us a sign, and he will
feed us, as he fed the people of Israel in the wilderness; for he has sent
us a fine flight of fieldfares across the barren sea, so that they whirr
out of every bush as ye come near it. Who will now run down into the
village, and cut off the mane and tail of my dead cow which lies out behind
on the common?" (for there was no horsehair in all the village, seeing that
the enemy had long since carried off or stabbed all the horses). But no one
would go, for fear was stronger even than hunger, till my old Ilse spoke,
and said, "I will go, for I fear nothing, when I walk in the ways of God;
only give me a good stick." When old Paasch had lent her his staff, she
began to sing, "God the Father be with us," and was soon out of sight among
the bushes. Meanwhile I exhorted the people to set to work directly, and to
cut little wands for springes, and to gather berries while the moon still
shone; there were a great quantity of mountain-ash and elder-bushes all
about the mountain. I myself and my daughter Mary stayed to guard the
little children, because it was not safe there from wolves. We therefore
made a blazing fire, sat ourselves around it, and heard the little folks
say the Ten Commandments, when there was a rustling and crackling behind
us, and my daughter jumped up and ran into the cavern, crying, "_Proh dolor
hostis_!" But it was only some of the able-bodied men who had stayed behind
in the village, and who now came to bring us word how things stood there. I
therefore called to her directly, "_Emergas amici_" whereupon she came
skipping joyously out, and sat down again by the fire, and forthwith my
warden Hinrich Seden related all that had happened, and how his life had
only been saved by means of his wife Lizzie Kolken; but that Jurgen Flatow,
Chim Burse, Claus Peer, and Chim Seideritz were killed, and the last named
of them left lying on the church steps. The wicked incendiaries had burned
down twelve sheds, and it was not their fault that the whole village was
not destroyed, but only in consequence of the wind not being in the quarter
that suited their purpose. Meanwhile they tolled the bells in mockery and
scorn, to see whether any one would come and quench the fire; and that when
he and the three other young fellows came forward they fired off their
muskets at them, but, by God's help, none of them were hit. Hereupon his
three comrades jumped over the paling and escaped; but him they caught, and
had already taken aim at him with their firelocks, when his wife Lizzie
Kolken came out of the church with another troop and beckoned to them to
leave him in peace. But they stabbed Lene Hebers as she lay in childbed,
speared the child, and flung it over Claus Peer's hedge among the nettles,
where it was yet lying when they came away. There was not a living soul
left in the village, and still less a morsel of bread, so that unless the
Lord took pity on their need they must all die miserably of hunger.
(Now who is to believe that such people can call themselves Christians!)
I next inquired, when he had done speaking (but with many sighs, as any
one may guess), after my cottage; but of that they knew nought save that
it was still standing. I thanked the Lord therefore with a quiet sigh;
and having asked old Seden what his wife had been doing in the church, I
thought I should have died for grief when I heard that the villains came
out of it with both the chalices and patens in their hands. I therefore
spoke very sharply to old Lizzie, who now came slinking through the
bushes; but she answered insolently that the strange soldiers had forced
her to open the church, as her goodman had crept behind the hedge, and
nobody else was there; that they had gone straight up to the altar, and
seeing that one of the stones was not well fitted (which, truly, was an
arch-lie), had begun to dig with their swords till they found the chalices
and patens; or somebody else might have betrayed the spot to them, so I
need not always to lay the blame on her, and rate her so hardly.
Meanwhile the old men and the women came with a good store of berries;
_item_, my old maid, with the cow's tail and mane, who brought word that
the whole house was turned upside down, the windows all broken, and the
books and writings trampled in the dirt in the midst of the street, and
the doors torn off their hinges. This, however, was a less sorrow to me
than the chalices; and I only bade the people make springes and snares,
in order next morning to begin our fowling, with the help of Almighty God.
I therefore scraped the rods myself until near midnight; and when we had
made ready a good quantity, I told old Seden to repeat the evening
blessing, which we all heard on our knees; after which I wound up with
a prayer, and then admonished the people to creep in under the bushes
to keep them from the cold (seeing that it was now about the end of
September, and the wind blew very fresh from the sea), the men apart, and
the women also apart by themselves. I myself went up with my daughter and
my maid into the cavern, where I had not slept long before I heard old
Seden moaning bitterly because, as he said, he was seized with the colic.
I therefore got up and gave him my place, and sat down again by the fire
to cut springes, till I fell asleep for half an hour; and then morning
broke, and by that time he had got better, and I woke the people to
morning prayer. This time old Paasch had to say it, but could not get
through with it properly, so that I had to help him. Whether he had forgot
it, or whether he was frightened, I cannot say. _Summa_. After we had all
prayed most devoutly, we presently set to work, wedging the springes into
the trees, and hanging berries all around them; while my daughter took
care of the children, and looked for blackberries for their breakfast. Now
we wedged the snares right across the wood along the road to Uekeritze;
and mark what a wondrous act of mercy befell from gracious God! As I
stepped into the road with the hatchet in my hand (it was Seden his
hatchet, which he had fetched out of the village early in the morning), I
caught sight of a loaf as long as my arm, which a raven was pecking, and
which doubtless one of the Imperial troopers had dropped out of his
knapsack the day before, for there were fresh hoofmarks in the sand by it.
So I secretly buttoned the breast of my coat over it, so that none should
perceive anything, although the aforesaid Paasch was close behind me;
_item_, all the rest followed at no great distance. Now, having set the
springes so very early, towards noon we found such a great number of birds
taken in them that Katy Berow, who went beside me while I took them out,
scarce could hold them all in her apron; and at the other end old Pagels
pulled nearly as many out of his doublet and coat pockets. My daughter
then sat down with the rest of the womankind to pluck the birds; and
as there was no salt (indeed it was long since most of us had tasted
any), she desired two men to go down to the sea, and to fetch a little
salt-water in an iron pot borrowed from Staffer Zuter; and so they did. In
this water we first dipped the birds, and then roasted them at a large
fire, while our mouths watered only at the sweet savour of them, seeing it
was so long since we had tasted any food.
And now when all was ready, and the people seated on the earth, I said,
"Behold how the Lord still feeds his people Israel in the wilderness with
fresh quails: if now he did yet more, and sent us a piece of manna bread
from heaven, what think ye? Would ye then ever weary of believing in him,
and not rather willingly endure all want, tribulation, hunger and thirst,
which he may hereafter lay upon you according to his gracious will?"
Whereupon they all answered and said, "Yea, surely!" _Ego_: "Will you then
promise me this in truth?" And they said again, "Yea, that will we!" Then
with tears I drew forth the loaf from my breast, held it on high, and
cried, "Behold, then, thou poor believing little flock, how sweet a manna
loaf your faithful Redeemer hath sent ye through me!" Whereupon they all
wept, sobbed and groaned; and the little children again came running up
and held out their hands, crying, "See, bread, bread!" But as I myself
could not pray for heaviness of soul, I bade Paasch his little girl say
the _Gratias_ the while my Mary cut up the loaf and gave to each his
share. And now we all joyfully began to eat our meat from God in the
wilderness.
Meanwhile I had to tell in what manner I had found the blessed manna
bread, wherein I neglected not again to exhort them to lay to heart this
great sign and wonder, how that God in his mercy had done to them as of
old to the prophet Elijah, to whom a raven brought bread in his great need
in the wilderness; as likewise this bread had been given to me by means of
a raven, which showed it to me, when otherwise I might have passed it by
in my heaviness without ever seeing it.
When we were satisfied with food, I said the thanksgiving from Luke xii.
24, where the Lord saith, "Consider the ravens: for they neither sow nor
reap; which neither have storehouse nor barn; and God feedeth them:
how much more are ye better than the fowls?" But our sins stank before
the Lord. For old Lizzie, as I afterwards heard, would not eat her
birds because she thought them unsavoury, but threw them among the
juniper-bushes; whereupon the wrath of the Lord was kindled against us as
of old against the people of Israel, and at night we found but seven birds
in the snares, and next morning but two. Neither did any raven come again
to give us bread. Wherefore I rebuked old Lizzie, and admonished the
people to take upon themselves willingly the righteous chastisement of the
Most High God, to pray without ceasing, to return to their desolate
dwellings, and to see whether the all-merciful God would peradventure give
them more on the sea. That I also would call upon him with prayer night
and day, remaining for a time in the cavern with my daughter and the maid
to watch the springes, and see whether his wrath might be turned from us.
That they should meanwhile put my manse to rights to the best of their
power, seeing that the cold was become very irksome to me. This they
promised me, and departed with many sighs. What a little flock! I counted
but twenty-five souls where there used to be above eighty: all the rest
had been slain by hunger, pestilence, or the sword. I then abode a while
alone and sorrowing in the cave, praying to God, and sent my daughter with
the maid into the village to see how things stood at the manse; _item_, to
gather together the books and papers, and also to bring me word whether
Hinze the carpenter, whom I had straightway sent back to the village, had
knocked together some coffins for the poor corpses, so that I might bury
them next day. I then went to look at the springes, but found only one
single little bird, whereby I saw that the wrath of God had not yet passed
away. Howbeit, I found a fine blackberry bush, from which I gathered
nearly a pint of berries, and put them, together with the bird, in Staffer
Zuter his pot, which the honest fellow had left with us for a while, and
set them on the fire for supper against my child and the maid should
return. It was not long before they came through the coppice and told me
of the fearful devastation which Satan had made in the village and manse
by the permission of all-righteous God. My child had gathered together a
few books, which she brought with her, above all, a _Virgilius_ and a
Greek Bible. And after she had told me that the carpenter would not have
done till next day, and we had satisfied the cravings of hunger, I made
her read to me again, for the greater strengthening of my faith, the
_locus_ about the blessed raven from the Greek of Luke, at the twelfth
chapter; also, the beautiful _locus parallelus_, Matt. vi. After which the
maid said the evening blessing, and we all went into the cave to rest for
the night. When I awoke next morning, just as the blessed sun rose out the
sea and peeped over the mountain, I heard my poor hungry child already
standing outside the cave reciting the beautiful verses about the joys of
paradise which St. Augustine wrote and I had taught her. She sobbed for
grief as she spoke the words:--
Uno pane vivunt cives utriusque patriae;
Avidi et semper pleni, quod habent desiderant.
Non sacietas fastidit, neque fames cruciat;
Inhiantes semper edunt, et edentes inhiant.
Flos perpetuus rosarum ver agit perpetuum;
Candent lilia, rubescit crocus, sudat balsamum,
Virent prata, vernant sata, rivi mellis influunt;
Pigmentorum spirat odor liquor et aromatum,
Pendent poma floridorum non lapsura nemorum.
Non alternat luna vices, sol vel cursus syderum.
Agnus est faelicis urbis lumen inocciduum.
At these words my own heart was melted; and when she ceased from speaking,
I asked, "What art thou doing, my child?" Whereupon she answered, "Father,
I am eating." Thereat my tears now indeed began to flow, and I praised her
for feeding her soul, as she had no meat for her body. I had not, however,
spoken long, before she cried to me to come and look at the great wonder
that had risen out of the sea, and already appeared over the cave. For
behold a cloud, in shape just like a cross, came over us, and let great
heavy drops, as big or bigger than large peas, fall on our heads, after
which it sank behind the coppice. I presently arose and ran up the
mountain with my daughter to look after it. It floated on towards the
Achterwater, where it spread itself out into a long blue streak, whereon
the sun shone so brightly that it seemed like a golden bridge on which, as
my child said, the blessed angels danced. I fell on my knees with her and
thanked the Lord that our cross had passed away from us; but, alas! our
cross was yet to come, as will be told hereafter.
_The Eighth Chapter_
HOW OUR NEED WAXED SORER AND SORER, AND HOW I SENT OLD ILSE WITH ANOTHER
LETTER TO PUDGLA, AND HOW HEAVY A MISFORTUNE THIS BROUGHT UPON ME
Next day, when I had buried the poor corpses amid the lamentations of the
whole village (by the same token that they were all buried under where the
lime-tree overhangs the wall), I heard with many sighs that neither the
sea nor the Achterwater would yield anything. It was now ten days since
the poor people had caught a single fish. I therefore went out into the
field, musing how the wrath of the just God might be turned from us,
seeing that the cruel winter was now at hand, and neither corn, apples,
fish nor flesh to be found in the village, nor even throughout all the
parish. There was indeed plenty of game in the forests of Coserow and
Uekeritze; but the old forest ranger, Zabel Nehring, had died last year of
the plague, and there was no new one in his place. Nor was there a musket
nor a grain of powder to be found in all the parish; the enemy had robbed
and broken everything: we were therefore forced, day after day, to see
how the stags and the roes, the hares and the wild boars, _et cet_., ran
past us, when we would so gladly have had them in our bellies, but had no
means of getting at them: for they were too cunning to let themselves be
caught in pit-falls. Nevertheless, Claus Peer succeeded in trapping a roe,
and gave me a piece of it, for which may God reward him. _Item_, of
domestic cattle there was not a head left; neither was there a dog, nor
a cat, which the people had not either eaten in their extreme hunger,
or knocked on the head or drowned long since. Albeit old farmer Paasch
still owned two cows; _item_, an old man in Uekeritze was said to have
one little pig:--this was all. Thus, then, nearly all the people lived on
blackberries and other wild fruits: the which also soon grew to be scarce,
as may easily be guessed. Besides all this, a boy of fourteen was missing
(old Labahn his son) and was never more heard of, so that I shrewdly think
that the wolves devoured him.
And now let any Christian judge by his own heart in what sorrow and
heaviness I took my staff in my hand, seeing that my child fell away like
a shadow from pinching hunger; although I myself, being old, did not, by
the help of God's mercy, find any great failing in my strength. While I
thus went continually weeping before the Lord, on the way to Uekeritze, I
fell in with an old beggar with his wallet, sitting on a stone, and eating
a piece of God's rare gift, to wit, a bit of bread. Then truly did my poor
mouth so fill with water that I was forced to bow my head and let it run
upon the earth before I could ask, "Who art thou? and whence comest thou?
seeing that thou hast bread." Whereupon he answered that he was a poor man
of Bannemin, from whom the enemy had taken all; and as he had heard that
the Lieper Winkel had long been in peace, he had travelled thither to beg.
I straightway answered him, "Oh, poor beggar-man, spare to me, a sorrowful
servant of Christ, who is poorer even than thyself, one little slice of
bread for his wretched child; for thou must know that I am the pastor of
this village, and that my daughter is dying of hunger. I beseech thee by
the living God not to let me depart without taking pity on me, as pity
also hath been shown to thee!" But the beggar-man would give me none,
saying that he himself had a wife and four children, who were likewise
staggering towards death's door under the bitter pangs of hunger; that the
famine was sorer far in Bannemin than here, where we still had berries;
whether I had not heard that but a few days ago a woman (he told me her
name, but horror made me forget it) had there killed her own child, and
devoured it from hunger? That he could not therefore help me, and I might
go to the Lieper Winkel myself.
I was horror-stricken at his tale, as is easy to guess, for we in our own
trouble had not yet heard of it, there being little or no traffic between
one village and another; and thinking on Jerusalem, and sheer despairing
because the Lord had visited us, as of old that ungodly city, although we
had not betrayed or crucified him, I almost forgot all my necessities, and
took my staff in my hand to depart. But I had not gone more than a few
yards when the beggar called me to stop, and when I turned myself round he
came towards me with a good hunch of bread which he had taken out of his
wallet, and said, "There! but pray for me also, so that I may reach my
home; for if on the road they smell that I have bread, my own brother
would strike me dead, I believe." This I promised with joy, and instantly
turned back to take to my child the gift hidden in my pocket. And behold,
when I came to the road which leads to Loddin, I could scarce trust my
eyes (before I had overlooked it in my distress) when I saw my glebe,
which could produce seven bushels, ploughed, sown, and in stalk; the
blessed crop of rye had already shot lustily out of the earth a finger's
length in height. I could not choose but think that the Evil One had
deceived me with a false show, yet, however hard I rubbed my eyes, rye it
was and rye it remained. And seeing that old Paasch his piece of land
which joined mine was in like manner sown, and that the blades had shot up
to the same height, I soon guessed that the good fellow had done this
deed, seeing that all the other land lay waste. Wherefore, I readily
forgave him for not knowing the morning prayer; and thanking the Lord for
so much love from my flock, and earnestly beseeching him to grant me
strength and faith to bear with them steadfastly and patiently all the
troubles and adversities which it might please him henceforward to lay
upon us, according to his divine pleasure, I ran rather than walked back
into the village to old Paasch his farm, where I found him just about to
kill his cow, which he was slaughtering from grim hunger. "God bless
thee," said I, "worthy friend, for sowing my field; how shall I reward
thee?" But the old man answered, "Let that be, and do you pray for us";
and when I gladly promised this and asked him how he had kept his corn
safe from the savage enemy, he told me that he had hidden it secretly in
the caves of the Streckelberg, but that now all his store was used up.
Meanwhile he cut a fine large piece of meat from the top of the loin, and
said, "There is something for you, and when that is gone you can come
again for more." As I was then about to go with many thanks, his little
Mary, a child nearly seven years old, the same who had said the _Gratias_
on the Streckelberg, seized me by the hand and wanted to go to school to
my daughter; for since my _Custos_, as above mentioned, departed this life
in the plague, she had to teach the few little ones there were in the
village; this, however, had long been abandoned. I could not, therefore,
deny her, although I feared that my child would share her bread with her,
seeing that she dearly loved the little maid, who was her godchild; and so
indeed it happened; for when the child saw me take out the bread, she
shrieked for joy, and began to scramble up on the bench. Thus she also got
a piece of the slice, our maid got another, and my child put the third
piece into her own mouth, as I wished for none, but said that I felt no
signs of hunger and would wait until the meat was boiled, the which I now
threw upon the bench. It was a goodly sight to see the joy which my poor
child felt when I then also told her about the rye. She fell upon my neck,
wept, sobbed, then took the little one up in her arms, danced about the
room with her, and recited as she was wont, all manner of Latin _versus_,
which she knew by heart. Then she would prepare a right good supper for
us, as a little salt was still left in the bottom of a barrel of meat
which the Imperialists had broken up. I let her take her own way, and
having scraped some soot from the chimney and mixed it with water, I tore
a blank leaf out of _Virgilius_, and wrote to the _Pastor Liepensis_, his
reverence Abraham Tiburtius, praying that for God his sake he would take
our necessities to heart, and would exhort his parishioners to save us
from dying of grim hunger, and charitably to spare to us some meat and
drink, according as the all-merciful God had still left some to them,
seeing that a beggar had told me that they had long been in peace from
the terrible enemy. I knew not, however, wherewithal to seal the letter,
until I found in the church a little wax still sticking to a wooden
altar-candlestick, which the Imperialists had not thought it worth their
while to steal, for they had only taken the brass ones. I sent three
fellows in a boat with Hinrich Seden, the churchwarden, with this letter
to Liepe.
First, however, I asked my old Ilse, who was born in Liepe, whether she
would not rather return home, seeing how matters stood, and that I, for
the present at least, could not give her a stiver of her wages (mark that
she had already saved up a small sum, seeing that she had lived in my
service above twenty years, but the soldiers had taken it all). Howbeit, I
could nowise persuade her to this, but she wept bitterly, and besought me
only to let her stay with the good damsel whom she had rocked in her
cradle. She would cheerfully hunger with us if it needs must be, so that
she were not turned away. Whereupon I yielded to her, and the others went
alone.
Meanwhile the broth was ready, but scarce had we said the _Gratias_, and
were about to begin our meal, when all the children of the village, seven
in number, came to the door, and wanted bread, as they had heard we had
some from my daughter her little godchild. Her heart again melted, and
notwithstanding I besought her to harden herself against them, she
comforted me with the message to Liepe, and poured out for each child a
portion of broth on a wooden platter (for these also had been despised by
the enemy), and put into their little hands a bit of meat, so that all our
store was eaten up at once. We were, therefore, left fasting next morning,
till towards mid-day, when the whole village gathered together in a meadow
on the banks of the river to see the boat return. But, God be merciful to
us, we had cherished vain hopes! six loaves and a sheep, _item_, a quarter
of apples, was all they had brought. His reverence Abraham Tiburtius wrote
to me that after the cry of their wealth had spread throughout the island,
so many beggars had flocked thither that it was impossible to be just to
all, seeing that they themselves did not know how it might fare with them
in these heavy troublous times. Meanwhile he would see whether he could
raise any more. I therefore with many sighs had the small pittance carried
to the manse, and though two loaves were, as _Pastor Liepensis_ said in
his letter, for me alone, I gave them up to be shared among all alike,
whereat all were content save Seden his squint-eyed wife, who would have
had somewhat _extra_ on the score of her husband's journey, which,
however, as may be easily guessed, she did not get; wherefore she again
muttered certain words between her teeth as she went away, which, however,
no one understood. Truly she was an ill woman, and not to be moved by the
word of God.
Any one may judge for himself that such a store could not last long; and
as all my parishioners felt an ardent longing after spiritual food, and
as I and the churchwardens could only get together about sixteen
farthings in the whole parish, which was not enough to buy bread and
wine, the thought struck me once more to inform my lord the Sheriff of
our need. With how heavy a heart I did this may be easily guessed, but
necessity knows no law. I therefore tore the last blank leaf out of
_Virgilius_, and begged that, for the sake of the Holy Trinity, his
lordship would mercifully consider mine own distress and that of the
whole parish, and bestow a little money to enable me to administer the
holy sacrament for the comfort of afflicted souls; also, if possible,
to buy a cup, were it only of tin, since the enemy had plundered us of
ours, and I should otherwise be forced to consecrate the sacred elements
in an earthen vessel. _Item_, I besought him to have pity on our bodily
wants, and at last to send me the first-fruits which had stood over for
so many years. That I did not want it for myself alone, but would
willingly share it with my parishioners, until such time as God in his
mercy should give us more.
Here a huge blot fell upon my paper; for the windows being boarded up, the
room was dark, and but little light came through two small panes of glass
which I had broken out of the church, and stuck in between the boards;
this, perhaps, was the reason why I did not see better. However, as I
could not anywhere get another piece of paper, I let it pass, and ordered
the maid, whom I sent with the letter to Pudgla, to excuse the same to his
lordship the Sheriff, the which she promised to do, seeing that I could
not add a word more on the paper, as it was written all over. I then
sealed it as I had done before.
But the poor creature came back trembling for fear and bitterly weeping,
and said that his lordship had kicked her out of the castle-gate, and had
threatened to set her in the stocks if she ever came before him again.
"Did the parson think that he was as free with his money as I seemed to be
with my ink? I surely had water enough to celebrate the Lord's supper
wherewithal. For if the Son of God had once changed the water into wine,
he could surely do the like again. If I had no cup, I might water my flock
out of a bucket, as he did himself"; with many more blasphemies, such as
he afterwards wrote to me, and by which, as may easily be guessed, I was
filled with horror. Touching the first-fruits, as she told me he said
nothing at all. In such great spiritual and bodily need the blessed Sunday
came round, when nearly all the congregation would have come to the Lord's
table, but could not. I therefore spoke on the words of St. Augustine,
_crede et manducasti_, and represented that the blame was not mine, and
truly told what had happened to my poor maid at Pudgla, passing over much
in silence, and only praying God to awaken the hearts of magistrates for
our good. Peradventure I may have spoken more harshly than I meant. I know
not, only that I spoke that which was in my heart. At the end I made all
the congregation stay on their knees for nearly an hour, and call upon the
Lord for his holy sacrament; _item_, for the relief of their bodily wants,
as had been done every Sunday, and at all the daily prayers I had been
used to read ever since the heavy time of the plague. Last of all I led
the glorious hymn, "When in greatest need we be," which was no sooner
finished than my new churchwarden, Claus Bulk of Uekeritze, who had
formerly been a groom with his lordship, and whom he had now put into a
farm, ran off to Pudgla, and told him all that had taken place in the
church. Whereat his lordship was greatly angered, insomuch that he
summoned the whole parish, which still numbered about 150 souls, without
counting the children, and dictated _ad protocollum_ whatsoever they could
remember of the sermon, seeing that he meant to inform his princely grace
the Duke of Pomerania of the blasphemous lies which I had vomited against
him, and which must sorely offend every Christian heart. _Item_, what an
avaricious wretch I must be to be always wanting something of him, and to
be daily, so to say, pestering him in these hard times with my filthy
letters, when he had not enough to eat himself. This he said should break
the parson his neck, since his princely grace did all that he asked of
him, and that no one in the parish need give me anything more, but only
let me go my ways. He would soon take care that they should have quite a
different sort of parson from what I was.
(Now I would like to see the man who could make up his mind to come into
the midst of such wretchedness at all.)
This news was brought to me in the selfsame night, and gave me a great
fright, as I now saw that I should not have a gracious master in his
lordship, but should all the time of my miserable life, even if I could
anyhow support it, find in him an ungracious lord. But I soon felt some
comfort, when Chim Krüger from Uekeritze, who brought me the news, took a
little bit of his sucking-pig out of his pocket and gave it to me.
Meanwhile old Paasch came in and said the same, and likewise brought me a
piece of his old cow; _item_, my other warden, Hinrich Seden, with a slice
of bread, and a fish which he had taken in his net, all saying they wished
for no better priest than me, and that I was only to pray to the merciful
Lord to bestow more upon them, whereupon I should want for nothing.
Meanwhile I must be quiet and not betray them. All this I promised, and my
daughter Mary took the blessed gifts of God off the table and carried them
into the inner chamber. But, alas! next morning, when she would have put
the meat into the caldron, it was all gone. I know not who prepared this
new sorrow for me, but much believe it was Hinrich Seden his wicked wife,
seeing he can never hold his tongue, and most likely told her everything.
Moreover, Paasch his little daughter saw that she had meat in her pot next
day; _item_, that she had quarrelled with her husband, and had flung the
fish-board at him, whereon some fresh fish-scales were sticking: she had,
however, presently recollected herself when she saw the child. (Shame on
thee, thou old witch, it is true enough, I dare say!) Hereupon nought was
left us but to feed our poor souls with the word of God. But even our
souls were so cast down that they could receive nought, any more than our
bellies; my poor child, especially, from day to day grew paler, greyer,
and yellower, and always threw up all her food, seeing she ate it without
salt or bread. I had long wondered that the bread from Liepe was not yet
done, but that every day at dinner I still had a morsel. I had often
asked, "Whence comes all this blessed bread? I believe, after all, you
save the whole for me, and take none for yourself or the maid." But they
both then lifted to their mouths a piece of fir-tree bark, which they had
cut to look like bread, and laid by their plates; and as the room was
dark, I did not find out their deceit, but thought that they, too, were
eating bread. But at last the maid told me of it, so that I should allow
it no longer, as my daughter would not listen to her. It is not hard to
guess how my heart was wrung when I saw my poor child lying on her bed of
moss struggling with grim hunger. But things were to go yet harder with
me, for the Lord in his anger would break me in pieces like a potter's
vessel. For behold, on the evening of the same day, old Paasch came
running to me, complaining that all his and my corn in the field had been
pulled up and miserably destroyed, and that it must have been done by
Satan himself, as there was not a trace either of oxen or horses. At these
words my poor child screamed aloud and fainted. I would have run to help
her, but could not reach her bed, and fell on the ground myself for bitter
grief. The loud cries of the maid and old Paasch soon brought us both to
our senses. But I could not rise from the ground alone, for the Lord had
bruised all my bones. I besought them, therefore, when they would have
helped me, to leave me where I was; and when they would not, I cried out
that I must again fall on the ground to pray, and begged them all save my
daughter to depart out of the room. This they did, but the prayer would
not come. I fell into heavy doubting and despair, and murmured against the
Lord that he plagued me more sorely than Lazarus or Job. Wretch that I
was, I cried, "Thou didst leave to Lazarus at least the crumbs and the
pitiful dogs, but to me thou hast left nothing, and I myself am less in
thy sight even than a dog; and Job thou didst not afflict until thou hadst
mercifully taken away his children, but to me thou hast left my poor
little daughter, that her torments may increase mine own a thousandfold.
Behold, then, I can only pray that thou wilt take her from the earth, so
that my grey head may gladly follow her to the grave! Woe is me, ruthless
father, what have I done? I have eaten bread, and suffered my child to
hunger! Oh, Lord Jesu, who hast said, 'What man is there of you, whom if
his son ask bread will he give him a stone?' Behold I am that man!--behold
I am that ruthless father! I have eaten bread and have given wood to my
child! Punish me; I will bear it and lie still. Oh, righteous Jesu, I have
eaten bread, and have given wood to my child!" As I did not speak, but
rather shrieked these words, wringing my hands the while, my child fell
upon my neck, sobbing, and chid me for murmuring against the Lord, seeing
that even she, a weak and frail woman, had never doubted his mercy, so
that with shame and repentance I presently came to myself, and humbled
myself before the Lord for such heavy sin.
Meanwhile the maid had run into the village with loud cries to see if she
could get anything for her poor young mistress, but the people had already
eaten their noontide meal, and most of them were gone to sea to seek their
blessed supper; thus she could find nothing, seeing that old wife Seden,
who alone had any victuals, would give her none, although she prayed her
by Jesu's wounds.
She was telling us this when we heard a noise in the chamber, and
presently Lizzie her worthy old husband, who had got in at the window by
stealth, brought us a pot of good broth, which he had taken off the fire
whilst his wife was gone for a moment into the garden. He well knew that
his wife would make him pay for it, but that he did not mind, so the young
mistress would but drink it, and she would find it salted and all. He
would make haste out of the window again, and see that he got home before
his wife, that she might not find out where he had been. But my daughter
would not touch the broth, which sorely vexed him, so that he set it down
on the ground cursing, and ran out of the room. It was not long before his
squint-eyed wife came in at the front door, and when she saw the pot still
steaming on the ground, she cried out, "Thou thief, thou cursed thieving
carcass!" and would have flown at the face of my maid. But I threatened
her, and told her all that had happened, and that if she would not believe
me she might go into the chamber and look out of the window, whence she
might still, belike, see her good man running home. This she did, and
presently we heard her calling after him, "Wait, and the devil shall tear
off thine arms; only wait till thou art home again!" After this she came
back, and, muttering something, took the pot off the ground. I begged her,
for the love of God, to spare a little to my child; but she mocked at me
and said, "You can preach to her, as you did to me," and walked towards
the door with the pot. My child indeed besought me to let her go, but I
could not help calling after her, "For the love of God, one good sup, or
my poor child must give up the ghost: wilt thou that at the day of
judgment God should have mercy on thee, so show mercy this day to me and
mine!" But she scoffed at us again, and cried out, "Let her cook herself
some bacon," and went out at the door. I then sent the maid after her with
the hour-glass which stood before me on the table, to offer it to her for
a good sup out of the pot; but the maid brought it back, saying that she
would not have it. Alas, how I wept and sobbed, as my poor dying child
with a loud sigh buried her head again in the moss! Yet the merciful God
was more gracious to me than my unbelief had deserved; for when the
hard-hearted woman bestowed a little broth on her neighbour, old Paasch,
he presently brought it to my child, having heard from the maid how it
stood with her; and I believe that this broth, under God, alone saved her
life, for she raised her head as soon as she had supped it, and was able
to go about the house again in an hour. May God reward the good fellow for
it! Thus I had some joy in the midst of my trouble. But while I sat by the
fireside in the evening musing on my fate, my grief again broke forth, and
I made up my mind to leave my house, and even my cure, and to wander
through the wide world with my daughter as a beggar. God knows I had cause
enough for it; for now that all my hopes were dashed, seeing that my field
was quite ruined, and that the Sheriff had become my bitter enemy;
moreover, that it was five years since I had had a wedding, _item_, but
two christenings during the past year, I saw my own and my daughter's
death staring me in the face, and no prospect of better times at hand. Our
want was increased by the great fears of the congregation; for although
by God's wondrous mercy they had already begun to take good draughts of
fish both in the sea and the Achterwater, and many of the people in the
other villages had already gotten bread, salt, oatmeal, etc., from the
Polters and Quatzners, of Anklam and Lassan in exchange for their fish;
nevertheless, they brought me nothing, fearing lest it might be told at
Pudgla, and make his lordship ungracious to them. I therefore beckoned my
daughter to me, and told her what was in my thoughts, saying that God in
his mercy could any day bestow on me another cure if I was found worthy in
his sight of such a favour, seeing that these terrible days of pestilence
and war had called away many of the servants of his word, and that I had
not fled like a hireling from his flock, but on the contrary, till _datum_
shared sorrow and death with it. Whether she were able to walk five or ten
miles a day; for that then we would beg our way to Hamburg, to my departed
wife her step-brother, Martin Behring, who is a great merchant in that
city.
This at first sounded strange to her, seeing that she had very seldom been
out of our parish, and that her departed mother and her little brother lay
in our churchyard. She asked, "Who was to make up their graves and plant
flowers on them? _Item_, as the Lord had given her a smooth face, what I
should do if in these wild and cruel times she were attacked on the
highways by marauding soldiers or other villains, seeing that I was a weak
old man and unable to defend her; _item_, wherewithal should we shield
ourselves from the frost, as the winter was setting in and the enemy had
robbed us of our clothes, so that we had scarce enough left to cover our
nakedness?" All this I had not considered, and was forced to own that she
was right; so after much discussion we determined to leave it this night
to the Lord, and to do whatever he should put into our hearts next
morning. At any rate, we saw that we could in nowise keep the old maid any
longer; I therefore called her out of the kitchen, and told her she had
better go early next morning to Liepe, as there still was food there,
whereas here she must starve, seeing that perhaps we ourselves might leave
the parish and the country to-morrow. I thanked her for the love and faith
she had shown us, and begged her at last, amid the loud sobs of my poor
daughter, to depart forthwith privately, and not to make our hearts still
heavier by leave-taking; that old Paasch was going a-fishing to-night on
the Achterwater, as he had told me, and no doubt would readily set her on
shore at Grüssow, where she had friends, and could eat her fill even
to-day. She could not say a word for weeping, but when she saw that I was
really in earnest she went out of the room. Not long after we heard the
house-door shut to, whereupon my daughter moaned, "She is gone already,"
and ran straight to the window to look after her. "Yes," cried she, as she
saw her through the little panes, "she is really gone"; and she wrung her
hands and would not be comforted. At last, however, she was quieted when I
spoke of the maid Hagar, whom Abraham had likewise cast off, but on whom
the Lord had nevertheless shown mercy in the wilderness; and hereupon we
commended ourselves to the Lord, and stretched ourselves on our couches of
moss.
_The Ninth Chapter_
HOW THE OLD MAID-SERVANT HUMBLED ME BY HER FAITH, AND THE LORD YET BLESSED
ME HIS UNWORTHY SERVANT
"Bless the Lord, O my soul; and all that is within me, bless his holy
name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits. Who
forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; who
redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with loving
kindness and tender mercies" (Psalm ciii.).
Alas! wretched man that I am, how shall I understand all the benefits and
mercies which the Lord bestowed upon me the very next day? I now wept for
joy, as of late I had done for sorrow; and my child danced about the room
like a young roe, and would not go to bed, but only cry and dance, and
between-whiles repeat the 103rd Psalm, then dance and cry again until
morning broke. But as she was still very weak, I rebuked her presumption,
seeing that this was tempting the Lord; and now mark what had happened.
After we had both woke in the morning with deep sighs, and called upon the
Lord to manifest to us in our hearts what we should do, we still could not
make up our minds. I therefore called to my child, if she felt strong
enough, to leave her bed and light a fire in the stove herself, as our
maid was gone; that we would then consider the matter further. She
accordingly got up, but came back in an instant with cries of joy, because
the maid had privately stolen back into the house, and had already made
a fire. Hereupon I sent for her to my bedside, and wondered at her
disobedience, and asked what she now wanted here but to torment me and
my daughter still more, and why she did not go yesterday with old Paasch?
But she lamented and wept so sore that she scarce could speak, and I
understood only thus much--that she had eaten with us, and would likewise
starve with us, for that she could never part from her young mistress,
whom she had known from her cradle. Such faithful love moved me so, that I
said almost with tears, "But hast thou not heard that my daughter and I
have determined to wander as beggars about the country; where, then, wilt
thou remain?" To this she answered that neither would she stay behind,
seeing it was more fitting for her to beg than for us; but that she could
not yet see why I wished to go out into the wide world; whether I had
already forgotten that I had said in my induction sermon that I would
abide with my flock in affliction and in death? That I should stay yet
a little longer where I was, and send her to Liepe, as she hoped to get
something worth having for us there from her friends and others. These
words, especially those about my induction sermon, fell heavy on my
conscience, and I was ashamed of my want of faith, since not my daughter
only, but yet more even my maid, had stronger faith than I, who
nevertheless professed to be a servant of God's word. I believed that the
Lord--to keep me, poor fearful hireling, and at the same time to humble
me--had awakened the spirit of this poor maid-servant to prove me, as the
maid in the palace of the high-priest had also proved the fearful St.
Peter. Wherefore I turned my face towards the wall, like Hezekiah, and
humbled myself before the Lord, which scarce had I done before my child
ran into the room again, with a cry of joy; for behold, some Christian
heart had stolen quietly into the house in the night, and had laid in the
chamber two loaves, a good piece of meat, a bag of oatmeal, _item_, a bag
of salt, holding near a pint. Any one may guess what shouts of joy we all
raised. Neither was I ashamed to confess my sins before my maid; and in
our common morning prayer, which we said on our knees, I made fresh vows
to the Lord of obedience and faith. Thus we had that morning a grand
breakfast, and sent something to old Paasch besides; _item_, my daughter
again sent for all the little children to come, and kindly fed them with
our store before they said their tasks; and when in my heart of little
faith I sighed thereat, although I said nought, she smiled, and said,
"Take therefore no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take
thought for the things of itself."
The Holy Ghost spoke by her, as I cannot but believe, nor thou either,
beloved reader: for mark what happened. In the afternoon she (I mean my
child) went up the Streckelberg to seek for blackberries, as old Paasch
had told her, through the maid, that a few bushes were still left. The
maid was chopping wood in the yard, to which end she had borrowed old
Paasch his axe, for the Imperialist thieves had thrown away mine, so that
it could nowhere be found; and I myself was pacing up and down in the
room, meditating my sermon; when my child, with her apron full, came
quickly in at the door, quite red and with beaming eyes, and scarce able
for joy to say more than "Father, father, what have I got?" "Well," quoth
I, "what hast thou got, my child?" Whereupon she opened her apron, and I
scarce trusted my eyes when I saw, instead of the blackberries which she
had gone to seek, two shining pieces of amber, each nearly as big as a
man's head, not to mention the small pieces, some of which were as large
as my hand, and that, God knows, is no small one. "Child of my heart,"
cried I, "how camest thou by this blessing from God?" As soon as she could
fetch her breath, she told me as follows:--
That while she was seeking for blackberries in a dell near the shore she
saw somewhat glistening in the sun, and on coming near she found this
wondrous godsend, seeing that the wind had blown the sand away from off a
black vein of amber. That she straightway had broken off these pieces with
a stick, and that there was plenty more to be got, seeing that it rattled
about under the stick when she thrust it into the sand, neither could she
force it farther than, at most, a foot deep into the ground; _item,_ she
told me that she had covered the place all over again with sand, and swept
it smooth with her apron, so as to leave no traces.
Moreover, that no stranger was at all likely to go thither, seeing that no
blackberries grew very near, and she had gone to the spot, moved by
curiosity and a wish to look upon the sea, rather than from any need; but
that she could easily find the place again herself, inasmuch as she had
marked it with three little stones. What was our first act after the
all-merciful God had rescued us out of such misery, nay, even, as it
seemed, endowed us with great riches, any one may guess. When we at length
got up off our knees, my child would straightway have run to tell the maid
our joyful news. But I forbade her, seeing that we could not be sure that
the maid might not tell it again to her friends, albeit in all other
things she was a faithful woman and feared God; but that if she did that,
the Sheriff would be sure to hear of it, and to seize upon our treasure
for his princely highness the Duke--that is to say, for himself; and that
nought would be left to us but the sight thereof, and our want would begin
all over again; that we therefore would say, when folks asked about the
luck that had befallen us, that my deceased brother, who was a councillor
at Rotterdam, had left us a good lump of money; and, indeed, it was true
that I had inherited near two hundred florins from him a year ago, which,
however, the soldiery (as mentioned above) cruelly robbed me of; _item,_
that I would go to Wolgast myself next day and sell the little bits as
best I might, saying that thou hadst picked them up by the seaside; thou
mayest tell the maid the same, if thou wilt, but show the larger pieces to
no one, and I will send them to thy uncle at Hamburg to be turned into
money for us; perchance I may be able to sell one of them at Wolgast, if I
find occasion, so as to buy clothes enough for the winter for thee and for
me, wherefore thou, too, mayst go with me. We will take the few farthings
which the congregation have brought together to pay the ferry, and thou
canst order the maid to wait for us till eventide at the water-side to
carry home the victuals. She agreed to all this, but said we had better
first break off some more amber, so that we might get a good round sum for
it at Hamburg; and I thought so too, wherefore we stopped at home next
day, seeing that we did not want for food, and that my child, as well as
myself, both wished to refresh ourselves a little before we set out on our
journey; _item_, we likewise bethought us that old Master Rothoog, of
Loddin, who is a cabinetmaker, might knock together a little box for us to
put the amber in, wherefore I sent the maid to him in the afternoon.
Meanwhile we ourselves went up the Streckelberg, where I cut a young
fir-tree with my pocket-knife, which I had saved from the enemy, and
shaped it like a spade, so that I might be better able to dig deep
therewith. First, however, we looked about us well on the mountain, and,
seeing nobody, my daughter walked on to the place, which she straightway
found again. Great God! what a mass of amber was there! The vein was hard
upon twenty feet long, as near as I could feel, and the depth of it I
could not sound. Nevertheless, save four good-sized pieces, none, however,
so big as those of yesterday, we this day only broke out little splinters,
such as the apothecaries bruise for incense. After we had most carefully
covered and smoothed over the place, a great mishap was very near
befalling us; for we met Witthan her little girl, who was seeking
blackberries, and she asked what my daughter carried in her apron, who
straightway grew red, and stammered so that our secret would have been
betrayed if I had not presently said, "What is that to thee? She has got
fir-apples for firing," which the child believed. Wherefore we resolved in
future only to go up the mountain at night by moonlight, and we went home
and got there before the maid, and hid our treasure in the bedstead, so
that she should not see it.
_The Tenth Chapter_