Zigzag Journeys in Northern Lands by Hezekiah Butterworth (books like harry potter TXT) 📖
- Author: Hezekiah Butterworth
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Soon after, Peter again went into the deep forest, his brain aching for a rhyme with pine. As he was hurrying along, a gigantic man, with a pole as big as a mast over his shoulder, appeared from behind the pine-trees. Peter was filled with terror, for he felt that it was none other than the giant-gnome, Michael the Dutchman.
“Peter Munk, what doest thou here?” he thundered.
“I want to pass this road on business,” said Peter, in increasing alarm.
“Thou liest. Peter, you are a miserable wight, but I pity you. You want money. Accept my conditions, and I will help you. How many hundred thalers do you want?”
“Thanks, sir; but I’ll have no dealings with you: I am afraid of your conditions. I have heard of you already.”
Peter began to run.
The giant strode after him; but there was a magic circle in the forest that he could not pass, and, as he was near it, Peter was able to escape.
A great secret had been revealed to Peter, and he now thought he had the clew to the charm. The good dwarf, Glassmanikin, only helped people who were born on Sunday.
Possessed of this fact, Peter again ventured on into the deep forest. He found himself at last under a huge pine. He stopped there to rest, when suddenly a perfect line and rhyme occurred to him. He leaped into the air with joy, and exclaimed:—
Many, full many a century hast thou seen:
Thine are the regions of the dusky pine,
And children born on Sabbath-days are thine.”
A little old manikin arose from the earth at the foot of the pine. He wore a black jerkin, red stockings, and a peaked hat. His face had a kindly expression, and he sat down and began to smoke a blue glass pipe.
“Peter, Peter,” said the fairy, “I should be sorry to think that the love of idleness has brought you hither to me.”
“No; I know that with idleness vice begins. But I would like a better trade. It is a low thing to be a charcoal-burner. I would like to become a glass-blower.”
“To every Sunday-child who seeks my aid, I grant three wishes. If, however, the last wish is a foolish one, I cannot grant it. Peter, Peter, what are your wishes? Let them be good and useful.”
“I wish to dance better than the King of Dancers.”
“One.”
“Secondly, I would always have as much money in my pocket as ‘Fat Hesekiel.’”
“Oh, you poor lad!” said the gnome sadly. “What despicable things to wish for! To dance well, and have money to gamble! What is your third wish?”
“I should like to own the finest glass factory in the forest.”
“O stupid Charcoal Peter! you should have wished for wisdom. Wealth is useless without wisdom to use it. Here are two thousand guldens. Go.”
Peter returned home. At the frolics at the inn, he surpassed the King of Dancers in dancing, and he was hailed with great admiration by the young. He began to gamble at the ale-houses, and was able to produce as much money as Fat Hesekiel himself. People wondered. He next ordered a glass factory to be built, and in a few months Peter Munk was rich and famous and envied. People said he had found a hidden treasure.
But Peter did not know how to use his money. He spent it at the alehouse; and at last, when the money in the pockets of Fat Hesekiel, for some reason, was low, he was unable to pay his debts, and the bailiffs came to take him to prison.
PETER AND THE MANIKIN.
In his troubles he resolved to go again into the deep forest, and seek the aid of the forest gnomes.
“If the good little gnome will not help me,” he said, “the big one will.”
As he passed along, ashamed of his conduct in not having better deserved of the good fairy, he began to cry,—
“Michael the Dutchman! Michael the Dutchman!”
In a few moments the giant raftsman stood before him.
“You’ve come to me at last,” he said. “Go with me to my house, and I will show you how I can be of service to you.”
Peter followed the giant to some steep rocks, and down into an abyss; there was the gnome’s palace.
“Your difficulties come from here,” said the gnome, placing his hands over the young man’s heart. “Let me have your heart, and you shall have riches.”
“Give you my heart?” said Peter; “I should die.”
“No; follow me.”
He led Peter into a great closet, where were jars filled with liquid. In them were the hearts of many who had become rich. Among them were the hearts of the King of the Dancers and of Fat Hesekiel.
“The hinderance to wealth is feeling. I have taken, as you see, the hearts of these rich men. I have replaced them by hearts of stone. You see how they flourish. You may do the same.”
PETER SURPASSED THE KING OF DANCERS.
“A heart of stone must feel very cold within,” said Peter.
“But what is the use of a heart of feeling, with poverty? Give me your heart, and I will make you rich.”
“Agreed,” said Peter.
The giant gave him a drug, which caused stupor. When Peter awoke from the stupor his heart seemed cold. He put his hand on his breast: there was no motion. Then he knew that he had indeed a heart of stone.
Nothing now brought him pleasure or delight. He loved nothing; pitied no one’s misfortunes. Beauty was nothing. He cared not for relatives or friends; but he had money, money. The supply never failed.
He travelled over the world, but everything seemed dead to him. Sentiment was dead within him. He lied, he cheated. He filled many homes with wretchedness and ruin.
At last he became weary of life.
PETER AND THE GIANT.
“I would give all my riches,” he said, “to feel once again love in my heart.”
He resolved to go into the woods and consult the good fairy.
He came to the old pine-tree,—
Many, full many a century thou hast seen;
Thine are the regions of the dusky pine,
And children born on Sabbath-days are thine.”
The Glassmanikin came up again, as before. He met Peter with an injured look.
“What wouldst thou?”
“That thou shouldst give me a feeling heart.”
“I cannot. I am not Michael the Dutchman.”
“I can live no longer with this stone heart.”
“I pity you. Take this cross, and go to Michael. Get him to give you back your heart, under some pretext, and when he demands it again show him this cross, and he will be powerless to harm you.”
Peter took the cross and hurried into the deep forest. He called,—
“Michael the Dutchman! Michael the Dutchman!”
The giant appeared.
“What now, Peter Munk?”
“There is feeling in my heart. Give me another. You have been deceiving me.”
“Come to my closet, and we will see.”
The gnome took out the stone heart, and replaced it for a moment by the old heart from the jar. It began to beat. Peter felt joy again. How happy he was! A heart, even with poverty, seemed the greatest of blessings. He would not exchange his heart again for the world.
“Let me have it now,” said the gnome.
But Peter held out the cross. The gnome shrank away, faded, and disappeared.
Peter put his hand on his breast. His heart was beating. He became a wise, thrifty, and prosperous man.
CHAPTER VI. NIGHT SECOND.Seven Nights on the Rhine:—Basle.—Marshal Von Moltke.—The Story of the Enchanted Hen.
OUR second night on the Rhine was passed at Basle. Leaving Lake Constance, the Rhine, full of vivid life, starts on its way to the sea. At the Rhinefall at Schaffhausen the water scenery becomes noble and exciting. A gigantic rock, over three hundred feet wide, impedes the course of the river, and over it the waters leap and eddy and foam, and then flow calmly on amid green woods, and near villages whose windows glitter in the sun.
We rode through the so-called Forest towns. High beeches stood on each side of the river, and the waters here were as blue as the sky, and so clear we could see the gravelly bed.
The river hastened to Basle. We hastened on like the river. Basle is the first town of importance on the Rhine.
Here we obtained a fine view of the Black Forest range of hills, and beheld the distant summits of the Jura and the Vosges.
A VILLAGE IN THE BLACK FOREST.
Basle was a Roman fortified town in the days of the struggles of Rome with the Barbarians. It is gray with history,—with the battles of Church and State, battles of words, and battles of deeds and blood. But the sunlight was poured upon it, and the Rhine flowed quietly by, and the palaces of peace and prosperity rose on every hand, as though the passions of men had never been excited there, or the soil reddened with blood.
PEASANT’S HOUSE IN THE BLACK FOREST.
We took a principal street on our arrival, and followed the uncertain way. It led to the cathedral, on high ground. At the entrance to the grand old church stood the figures of St. George and St. Martin on prancing horses. The interior was high and lofty, with an imposing organ. Here we read on one of the tombs, “Erasmus of Rotterdam.”
The famous Black Forest is comprised within the lines of an isosceles triangle, which has Basle and Constance at each end of the line of base. The Rhine turns toward the north at Basle, and very nearly follows two lines of the figure. The forest covers an area of about twelve hundred square miles. It is a romantic seclusion, having Basle, Freiburg, and Baden-Baden for its cities of supply and exchange; full of pastoral richness, lonely grandeur; a land of fable and song.
The Black Forest Railway is one of the great triumphs of engineering skill. It is ninety-three miles long, and has some forty tunnels. It takes the traveller from Baden at once into the primeval solitudes. Freiburg, a very quaint town, is situated in the forest.
Master Lewis spoke briefly to the Club of Von Moltke, the great Prussian general.
MARSHAL VON MOLTKE.Never was a nation more fortunate in its leaders than was Prussia when she aimed to achieve German unity. It is often the case that when some great crisis comes upon a country, men able to deal with it rise and become the guides of the people. This was never more true than it was of Prussia when, thirteen years ago, she entered upon the war with France which was to decide not only her own destiny, but that of the whole German people.
Three Prussians towered, at that time, far above the rest,—William, the wise and energetic king; Bismarck, the resolute and far-seeing statesman; and Von Moltke, the skilful and consummate soldier. It was the united action of these three, as much as the valor of the Prussian army, which not only won the victory, but gathered and garnered its fruits.
All three of these men are still living (1882-83), and still active, each in his own sphere. The hale old king, now emperor, shows, at the age of eighty-six, little lessening of his sturdy powers. Bismarck, at seventy, still sways with his strong and stubborn will the affairs of the youthful empire. Von Moltke,
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