I.

In a secluded and mountainous part of Styria, there was, in old time, a

valley of the most surprising and luxuriant fertility. It was

surrounded, on all sides, by steep and rocky mountains, rising into

peaks, which were always covered with snow, and from which a number of

torrents descended in constant cataracts. One of these fell westward,

over the face of a crag so high that, when the sun had set to

everything else, and all below was darkness, his beams still shone full

upon this waterfall, so that it looked like a shower of gold. It was,

therefore, called by the people of the neighborhood the Golden River.

It was strange that none of these streams fell into the valley itself.

They all descended on the other side of the mountains, and wound away

through broad plains and by populous cities. But the clouds were drawn

so constantly to the snowy hills, and rested so softly in the circular

hollow, that, in time of drought and heat, when all the country round

was burnt up, there was still rain in the little valley; and its crops

were so heavy, and its hay so high, and its apples so red, and its

grapes so blue, and its wine so rich, and its honey so sweet, that it

was a marvel to every one who beheld it, and was commonly called the

Treasure Valley.

The whole of this little valley belonged to three brothers, called

Schwartz, Hans, and Gluck. Schwartz and Hans, the two elder brothers,

were very ugly men, with overhanging eyebrows and small, dull eyes,

which were always half shut, so that you couldn't see into _them_, and

always fancied they saw very far into _you_. They lived by farming the

Treasure Valley, and very good farmers they were. They killed

everything that did not pay for its eating. They shot the blackbirds,

because they pecked the fruit; and killed the hedgehogs, lest they

should suck the cows; they poisoned the crickets for eating the crumbs

in the kitchen; and smothered the cicadas, which used to sing all

summer in the lime-trees. They worked their servants without any wages,

till they would not work any more, and then quarrelled with them, and

turned them out of doors without paying them. It would have been very

odd, if, with such a farm, and such a system of farming, they hadn't

got very rich; and very rich they _did_ get. They generally contrived

to keep their corn by them till it was very dear, and then sell it for

twice its value; they had heaps of gold lying about on their floors,

yet it was never known that they had given so much as a penny or a

crust in charity; they never went to mass; grumbled perpetually at

paying tithes; and were, in a word, of so cruel and grinding a temper,

as to receive from all those with whom they had any dealings, the

nickname of the "Black Brothers."

The youngest brother, Gluck, was as completely opposed, in both

appearance and character, to his seniors as could possibly be imagined

or desired. He was not above twelve years old, fair, blue-eyed, and

kind in temper to every living thing. He did not, of course, agree

particularly well with his brothers, or, rather, they did not agree

with _him_. He was usually appointed to the honorable office of

turnspit, when there was anything to roast, which was not often; for,

to do the brothers justice, they were hardly less sparing upon

themselves than upon other people. At other times he used to clean the

shoes, the floors, and sometimes the plates, occasionally getting what

was left on them, by way of encouragement, and a wholesome quantity of

dry blows, by way of education.

Things went on in this manner for a long time. At last came a very wet

summer, and everything went wrong in the country round. The hay had

hardly been got in, when the haystacks were floated bodily down to the

sea by an inundation; the vines were cut to pieces with the hail; the

corn was all killed by a black blight; only in the Treasure Valley, as

usual, all was safe. As it had rain when there was rain nowhere else,

so it had sun when there was sun nowhere else. Everybody came to buy

corn at the farm, and went away pouring maledictions on the Black

Brothers. They asked what they liked, and got it, except from the poor

people, who could only beg, and several of whom were starved at their

very door, without the slightest regard or notice.

It was drawing toward winter, and very cold weather, when one day the

two elder brothers had gone out, with their usual warning to little

Gluck, who was left to mind the roast, that he was to let nobody in,

and give nothing out. Gluck sat down quite close to the fire, for it

was raining very hard, and the kitchen walls were by no means dry or

comfortable looking. He turned and turned, and the roast got nice and

brown. "What a pity," thought Gluck, "my brothers never ask anybody to

dinner. I'm sure, when they've got such a nice piece of mutton as this,

and nobody else has got so much as a piece of dry bread, it would do

their hearts good to have somebody to eat it with them."

Just as he spoke, there came a double knock at the house-door, yet

heavy and dull, as though the knocker had been tied up,--more like a

puff than a knock.

"It must be the wind," said Gluck; "nobody else would venture to knock

double knocks at our door."

No; it wasn't the wind; there it came again very hard, and, what was

particularly astounding, the knocker seemed to be in a hurry, and not

to be in the least afraid of the consequences. Gluck went to the

window, opened it, and put his head out to see who it was.

It was the most extraordinary-looking little gentleman he had ever seen

in his life. He had a very large nose, slightly brass-colored; his

cheeks were very round and very red, and might have warranted a

supposition that he had been blowing a refractory fire for the last

eight-and-forty hours; his eyes twinkled merrily through long silky

eyelashes, his mustaches curled twice round like a corkscrew on each

side of his mouth, and his hair, of a curious mixed pepper-and-salt

color, descended far over his shoulders. He was about four feet six in

height, and wore a conical pointed cap of nearly the same altitude,

decorated with a black feather some three feet long. His doublet was

prolonged behind into something resembling a violent exaggeration of

what is now termed a "swallow-tail," but was much obscured by the

swelling folds of an enormous black, glossy-looking cloak, which must

have been very much too long in calm weather, as the wind, whistling

round the old house, carried it clear out from the wearer's shoulders

to about four times his own length.

Gluck was so perfectly paralyzed by the singular appearance of his

visitor, that he remained fixed without uttering a word, until the old

gentleman, having performed another and a more energetic concerto on

the knocker, turned round to look after his fly-away cloak. In so doing

he caught sight of Gluck's little yellow head jammed in the window,

with its mouth and eyes very wide open indeed.

"Hollo!" said the little gentleman, "that's not the way to answer the

door; I'm wet, let me in."

To do the little gentleman justice, he _was_ wet. His feather hung down

between his legs like a beaten puppy's tail, dripping like an umbrella;

and from the ends of his mustaches the water was running into his

waistcoat-pockets, and out again like a mill-stream.

"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck, "I'm very sorry, but I really can't."

"Can't what?" said the old gentleman.

"I can't let you in, sir,--I can't, indeed; my brothers would beat me

to death, sir, if I thought of such a thing. What do you want, sir?"

"Want?" said the old gentleman, petulantly, "I want fire and shelter;

and there's your great fire there blazing, crackling, and dancing on

the walls, with nobody to feel it. Let me in, I say; I only want to

warm myself."

Gluck had had his head, by this time, so long out of the window, that

he began to feel it was really unpleasantly cold, and when he turned,

and saw the beautiful fire rustling and roaring, and throwing long

bright tongues up the chimney, as if it were licking its chops at the

savory smell of the leg of mutton, his heart melted within him that it

should be burning away for nothing. "He does look _very_ wet," said

little Gluck; "I'll just let him in for a quarter of an hour." Round he

went to the door, and opened it; and as the little gentleman walked in,

through the house came a gust of wind that made the old chimneys

totter.

"That's a good boy," said the little gentleman. "Never mind your

brothers. I'll talk to them."

"Pray, sir, don't do any such thing," said Gluck. "I can't let you stay

till they come; they'd be the death of me."

"Dear me," said the old gentleman, "I'm very sorry to hear that. How

long may I stay?"

"Only till the mutton's done, sir," replied Gluck, "and it's very

brown."

Then the old gentleman walked into the kitchen, and sat himself down on

the hob, with the top of his cap accommodated up the chimney, for it

was a great deal too high for the roof.

"You'll soon dry there, sir," said Gluck, and sat down again to turn

the mutton. But the old gentleman did _not_ dry there, but went on

drip, drip, dripping among the cinders, and the fire fizzed and

sputtered, and began to look very black and uncomfortable; never was

such a cloak; every fold in it ran like a gutter.

"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck at length, after watching the water

spreading in long quicksilver-like streams over the floor for a quarter

of an hour; "mayn't I take your cloak?"

"No, thank you," said the old gentleman.

"Your cap, sir?"

"I'm all right, thank you," said the old gentleman, rather gruffly.

"But--sir--I'm very sorry," said Gluck, hesitatingly; "but--really,

sir--you're putting the fire out."

"It'll take longer to do the mutton then," replied his visitor dryly.

Gluck was very much puzzled by the behavior of his guest; it was such a

strange mixture of coolness and humility. He turned away at the string

meditatively for another five minutes.

"That mutton looks very nice," said the old gentleman, at length.

"Can't you give me a little bit?"

"Impossible, sir," said Gluck.

"I'm very hungry," continued the old gentleman; "I've had nothing to

eat yesterday, nor to-day. They surely couldn't miss a bit from the

knuckle!"

He spoke in so very melancholy a tone, that it quite melted Gluck's

heart. "They promised me one slice to-day, sir," said he; "I can give

you that, but not a bit more."

"That's a good boy," said the old gentleman again.

Then Gluck warmed a plate and sharpened a knife. "I don't care if I do

get beaten for it," thought he. Just as he had cut a large slice out of

the mutton, there came a tremendous rap at the door. The old gentleman

jumped off the hob, as if it had suddenly become inconveniently warm.

Gluck fitted the slice into the mutton again, with desperate efforts at

exactitude, and ran to open the door.

"What did you keep us waiting in the rain for?" said Schwartz, as he

walked in, throwing his umbrella in Gluck's face. "Ay! what for,

indeed, you little vagabond?" said Hans, administering an educational

box on the ear, as he followed his brother into the kitchen.

"Bless my soul!" said Schwartz, when he opened the door.

"Amen," said the little gentleman, who had taken his cap off, and was

standing in the middle of the kitchen, bowing with the utmost possible

velocity.

"Who's that?" said Schwartz, catching up a rolling-pin, and turning to

Gluck with a fierce frown.

"I don't know, indeed, brother," said Gluck, in great terror.

"How did he get in?" roared Schwartz.

"My dear brother," said Gluck, deprecatingly, "he was so _very_ wet!"

The rolling-pin was descending on Gluck's head; but, at the instant,

the old gentleman interposed his conical cap, on which it crashed with

a shock that shook the water out of it all over the room. What was very

odd, the rolling-pin no sooner touched the cap, than it flew out of

Schwartz's hand, spinning like a straw in a high wind, and fell into

the corner at the further end of the room.

"Who are you, sir?" demanded Schwartz, turning upon him.

"What's your business?" snarled Hans.

"I'm a poor old man, sir," the little gentleman began very modestly,

"and I saw your fire through the window, and begged shelter for a

quarter of an hour."

"Have the goodness to walk out again, then," said Schwartz. "We've

quite enough water in our kitchen, without making it a drying-house."

"It is a cold day to turn an old man out in, sir; look at my gray

hairs." They hung down to his shoulders, as I told you before.

"Ay!" said Hans, "there are enough of them to keep you warm. Walk!"

"I'm very, very hungry, sir; couldn't you spare me a bit of bread

before I go?"

"Bread, indeed!" said Schwartz; "do you suppose we've nothing to do

with our bread but to give it to such red-nosed fellows as you?"

"Why don't you sell your feather?" said Hans, sneeringly. "Out with

you."

"A little bit," said the old gentleman.

"Be off!" said Schwartz.

"Pray, gentlemen."

"Off, and be hanged!" cried Hans, seizing him by the collar. But he had

no sooner touched the old gentleman's collar, than away he went after

the rolling-pin, spinning round and round, till he fell into the corner

on the top of it. Then Schwartz was very angry, and ran at the old

gentleman to turn him out; but he also had hardly touched him, when

away he went after Hans and the rolling-pin, and hit his head against

the wall as he tumbled into the corner. And so there they lay, all

three.

Then the old gentleman spun himself round with velocity in the opposite

direction; continued to spin until his long cloak was all wound neatly

about him; clapped his cap on his head, very much on one side (for it

could not stand upright without going through the ceiling), gave an

additional twist to his corkscrew mustaches, and replied with perfect

coolness: "Gentlemen, I wish you a very good morning. At twelve o'clock

to-night, I'll call again; after such a refusal of hospitality as I

have just experienced, you will not be surprised if that visit is the

last I ever pay you."

"If ever I catch you here again," muttered Schwartz, coming, half

frightened, out of the corner,--but, before he could finish his

sentence, the old gentleman had shut the house-door behind him with a

great bang; and past the window, at the same instant, drove a wreath of

ragged cloud, that whirled and rolled away down the valley in all

manner of shapes; turning over and over in the air; and melting away at

last in a gush of rain.

"A very pretty business, indeed, Mr. Gluck!" said Schwartz. "Dish the

mutton, sir. If ever I catch you at such a trick again-- Bless me, why

the mutton's been cut!"

"You promised me one slice, brother, you know," said Gluck.

"Oh! and you were cutting it hot, I suppose, and going to catch all the

gravy. It'll be long before I promise you such a thing again. Leave the

room, sir; and have the kindness to wait in the coal-cellar till I call

you."

Gluck left the room melancholy enough. The brothers ate as much mutton

as they could, locked the rest in the cupboard, and proceeded to get

very drunk after dinner.

Such a night as it was! Howling wind, and rushing rain, without

intermission. The brothers had just sense enough left to put up all the

shutters, and double bar the door, before they went to bed. They

usually slept in the same room. As the clock struck twelve, they were

both awakened by a tremendous crash. Their door burst open with a

violence that shook the house from top to bottom.

"What's that?" cried Schwartz, starting up in his bed.

"Only I," said the little gentleman.

The two brothers sat up on their bolster, and stared into the darkness.

The room was full of water, and by a misty moonbeam, which found its

way through a hole in the shutter, they could see, in the midst of it,

an enormous foam globe, spinning round, and bobbing up and down like a

cork, on which, as on a most luxurious cushion, reclined the little old

gentleman, cap and all. There was plenty of room for it now, for the

roof was off.

"Sorry to incommode you," said their visitor, ironically. "I'm afraid

your beds are dampish; perhaps you had better go to your brother's

room; I've left the ceiling on there."

They required no second admonition, but rushed into Gluck's room, wet

through, and in an agony of terror.

"You'll find my card on the kitchen table," the old gentleman called

after them. "Remember the _last_ visit."

"Pray Heaven it may be!" said Schwartz, shuddering. And the foam globe

disappeared.

Dawn came at last, and the two brothers looked out of Gluck's little

window in the morning. The Treasure Valley was one mass of ruin and

desolation. The inundation had swept away trees, crops, and cattle, and

left, in their stead, a waste of red sand and gray mud. The two

brothers crept, shivering and horror-struck, into the kitchen. The

water had gutted the whole first floor: corn, money, almost every

movable thing had been swept away, and there was left only a small

white card on the kitchen table. On it, in large, breezy, long-legged

letters, were engraved the words:--