Chapter XXIV: Conclusion (1)

Notwithstanding Master Martin's anger with Reinhold and Friedrich, he could not but admit that, with them, all happiness and joy had fled from the workshop. His new journeymen caused him nothing but vexation and annoyance every day. He had to give himself trouble over every trifling detail of the work, and had difficulty in getting the very smallest matter done as he wished it. Wholly worn out with the worries of the day, he would often sigh, "Ah, Reinhold! ah, Friedrich! how I wish you had not deceived me so shamefully! Oh that you had only gone on being doughty coopers, and not turned out to be something else!" This went so far, that he often thought of giving up business altogether.

He was sitting one evening in a gloomy frame of mind of this description, when Herr Jacobus Paumgartner, and with him Master Johannes Holzschuer, came in unexpectedly. He felt sure their visit related to Friedrich, and in fact Paumgartner soon led the conversation to the subject of him, and Master Holzschuer began to extol him in every possible way, stating his opinion that with Friedrich's talents and diligence he would not only become a first-class goldsmith, but actually tread in Peter Fischer's footsteps as a modeller of eminence. Then Herr Paumgartner set to work to vehemently inveigh against the undeserved treatment that the poor fellow had received from Master Martin, and they both of them urged the latter that, if Friedrich should turn out a goldsmith and modeller, he should give him Rosa to wife, provided she should be really fond of him. Master Martin allowed them both to finish what they had to say; then he took off his cap and answered with a smile, "Worthy sirs, you speak strongly in favour of the lad, who has--all the same--deceived me in a shameful manner. I forgive him that, however, but you must not expect me to alter my firm decision, on his account. It is not the slightest use asking me to give him my Rosa--completely out of the question."

Just then, Rosa came in, pale as death, with eyes red from crying, and, in silence, placed glasses and wine on the table.

"Very well!" said Holzschuer; "then I suppose I shall be obliged to let Friedrich have his way, and leave this place altogether. He has just finished a beautiful piece of workmanship at my atelier, which--if you will allow him, Master Martin--he wishes to offer to Rosa as a I; Bake. I have got it with me; look at it."

He produced a small silver goblet, beautifully and artistically ornamented all over, and handed it to Master Martin, who was a great admirer and "amateur" of such things. He took it, and looked at it on all sides with great admiration; in fact it would have been difficult to meet with a more beautiful piece of silver-work than this little vessel, where lovely vine-branches, with tendrils, interwoven with roses, were twining in all directions, whilst from among the grapes and the roses, beautiful angels were peeping, and others, embracing, graven inside it, on its gilt sides and bottom; so that when wine was poured into it, those angels seemed to hover up and down, in charming play.

"A very pretty thing indeed!" Master Martin said. "Beautiful work about it! I shall be glad to take it, if Friedrich will allow me to give him twice its worth in good gold pieces."

So saying, Master Martin filled the cup with wine, and set it to his lips.

Here the door opened gently, and Friedrich, with the deadly pain of parting for ever from her he loved best on earth in his white face, came in at it. As soon as Rosa saw him, she gave a bitter cry of "Oh, my own dearest Friedrich!" and threw herself half-fainting on his breast.

Master Martin set the cup down, and when he saw Rosa in Friedrich's arms, he opened wide eyes, as if he were seeing ghosts. Then he took up the cup again without a word, and looked down into it. "Rosa," he cried in a loud voice, rising from his chair, "do you really love Friedrich?"

"Ah!" said Rosa in a whisper, "I cannot hide it any longer--I love him as my life! My heart was broken when you sent him away."

"Take your wife to your heart then, Friedrich, Yes, yes, I say it--_your wife_," Master Martin cried out.

Paumgartner and Holzschuer looked at each other, lost in amazement; but Master Martin, holding the cup in his hands, went on, and said, "Oh Father of Heaven! has not everything turned out exactly as the old lady prophesied it should? 'A House resplendent and gleaming he shall to thy dwelling bring; streams of sweet savour flowing therein; beauteous angels sing full sweetly; he whom thy heart goeth forth to needless to ask of thy father, this is thy Bridegroom beloved!' Oh fool that I have been! this is the bright little House! here are the angels, the bridegroom! Aha! gentlemen, my friends and patrons--my son-in-law is found!"

Whosoever has at any time been under the spell of an evil dream, and thought he was lying in the deep, black darkness of the grave, and then has suddenly awakened in the bright spring-time, all perfume, sunshine and song, and she who is dearest to him on earth has come and put her arms about him, while he looked up into the heaven of her beautiful face--that person will understand how Friedrich felt--will comprehend the exuberance of his blissfulness. Unable to utter a word, he held Rosa fast in his arms as if he would never let her go, till she gently extricated herself from his embrace, and led him to her father. He then found words, and cried:

"Oh, dear master, is this really true, then? Do you give me Rosa for my wife, and may I go back to my own art?"

"Yes, yes, believe it!" answered Master Martin. "What else is there that I can do? You have fulfilled my mother's prophecy, and your masterpiece will never be finished."

Friedrich smiled, transfigured with happiness, and said: "No, dear master, you will allow me to finish my masterpiece, and then I will go back to my smelting-furnace. For I should enjoy finishing my cask, as my last piece of coopering-work."

"So let it be then, my dear, good son," cried Master Martin, with eyes sparkling with joy. "Finish your masterpiece, and then, for the wedding!"

Friedrich kept his word. He duly finished his two-fudder cask, and all the masters averred that it would be hard to meet with a prettier piece of work; at which Master Martin was highly delighted, and thought that, all things considered, heaven could scarcely have awarded him a better son-in-law.

The wedding-day had come at last. Friedrich's cask-masterpiece, full of noble wine, and garlanded with flowers, stood on the house-floor. The Masters of the craft, headed by Herr Paumgartner, duly arrived, with their wives, followed by the Master-Goldsmiths. The procession was just setting out from St. Sebald's church, where the wedding was to be, when a blast of trumpets sounded in the streets, and horses were neighing and stamping in front of Master Martin's house. He hastened to the balcony window, and there he saw Herr von Spangenberg drawing up, in front of the house, in festal array. A few yards behind him rode a young cavalier, a grand-looking young gentleman, on a spirited charger, with a sword at his side, and tall plumes waving in his barret-cap, which sparkled with jewels. At the cavalier's side Master Martin saw a most beautiful lady, also splendidly attired, and riding a palfrey as white as new-fallen snow. Pages and servants in fine liveries formed a circle about them. The trumpets ceased to sound, and old Baron von Spangenberg cried out, "Ha, ha! Master Martin. I am not come here on account of your cellar or your gold-ingots, but because it is Rosa's wedding-day. Will you let me come in, dear Master Martin?"

Master Martin, remembering what he had said that night so long ago, was somewhat put out, but hastened down to welcome the party. The old Baron dismounted, and came in, with courteous greetings. Pages hurried up, offering their arms to help the young lady to dismount; her cavalier gave her his hand, and followed the old Baron. But as soon as Master Martin looked upon the young cavalier, he started back three paces, clapped his hands and cried, "Good heavens! 'tis Conrad!"

The cavalier smiled, and said, "Yes, yes, Master Martin, I am your journeyman Conrad. You must pardon me for having given you that nasty wound. By rights, dear master, I ought to have sent you to kingdom come; you must see that yourself--however, things have all turned out differently."

Master Martin, in some confusion, answered that he "thought it was just as well that he had _not_ been sent to 'kingdom come,' and that he hadn't much minded the little bit of cut with the broad-axe."

As Master Martin now entered with his new guests the chamber where the bridal-pair were, with the others, everybody acclaimed delight at the beauty of the lady, for she was so exactly like the bride that she might have been her twin-sister. The cavalier went up to the bride courteously, saying, "Beautiful Rosa, I hope you will permit Conrad to be present at your wedding. You are no longer vexed with the wild thoughtless fellow who so nearly cost you a great sorrow?"

As the bride, the bridegroom, and Master Martin looked from one to another in utter perplexity, the old Baron cried out, "Well, well! suppose I must help you out of your dream. This is my son, Conrad, and there is his beautiful wife, whose name is Rosa, the same as the bride's. Remember, Master Martin, our conversation, when I asked you if you would refuse to give me your Rosa even to my son. It had a special purpose. The boy was over head and ears in love with your Rosa. He got me persuaded to throw all consideration to the winds, and agree to act as his mediator--his go-between. But when I told him how you had shown me the door, he went and sneaked into your service in the most foolish way, as a cooper, to gain Rosa's heart, with the view, as I suppose, of carrying her off from you. Well! you cured him with that swinging blow you gave him on the back, and thanks to you for that, inasmuch as he has found a noble lady, who may perhaps be really the Rosa he had in his heart from the beginning."

Meanwhile the lady had saluted the bride with the gentlest courtesy, and placed round her neck a rich pearl-necklace, as a wedding-gift.

"Look, dear Rosa," she said, taking some withered flowers from amongst the fresh ones she wore on her breast, "those are the flowers which you once gave to my Conrad as a prize of victory. He kept them faithfully till he saw me. But then he was false to you, and let me have them. Don't be angry."

Rosa, blushing deeply, and casting her eyes modestly down, answered, "Ah! my lady, how can you speak _so_? He never could have cared for _me_, certainly. _You_ were his love alone; and because I happen to be called Rosa, too, and am--as these gentlemen say--a little like you, he made love to me, thinking all the time of you."

The procession was about to start for the second time, when a young gentleman came in, dressed in the Italian fashion, all in slashed black velvet, with a fine gold chain and a collar of rich lace.

"Oh, my Reinhold," cried Friedrich, and fell upon his neck; and the bride and Master Martin, too, rejoiced, and cried out, "Here is our beloved Reinhold come!"

"Did I not say, my dearest friend," said Reinhold, cordially returning the embraces, "that everything would turn out gloriously for you after all? Let me celebrate your wedding day with you. I have come a long distance to do so. And as an everlasting memorial, hang up in your house the picture which I painted for you, and which I have brought with me." He called without, and two servants came in carrying a large painting, in a magnificent gold frame, representing Master Martin in his workshop, with his journeymen, Reinhold, Friedrich, and Conrad, at work on the great cask, with Rosa just come in at the door. Everybody was amazed at the truthfulness and the splendid colouring of this work of art.

"Ah," said Friedrich, "_that_ is _your_ cooper's masterpiece. Mine is downstairs. But I shall turn out another."

"I know," said Reinhold, "and you are a fortunate man; stick to your own art; very probably it is better suited to domesticity and the like, than mine."

At the wedding dinner Friedrich sat between the two Rosas, with Master Martin opposite to him, between Reinhold and Conrad. Paumgartner filled Friedrich's goblet to the brim with noble wine, and drank to the health of Master Martin and his grand journeymen. The goblet went round, and first Baron von Spangenburg, and after him all the worthy masters drained it to the same toast.

When Sylvester had finished his reading, the friends were unanimous in their opinion that the tale was worthy of the Serapion Club, and they particularly admired the pleasingness of the general tone which characterised it.

"I suppose," said Lothair, "that I am fated always to be the one to pick a hole or two. But I can't help it. To my mind, Master Martin smacks too much of his origin; I mean, of the picture which suggested him. Sylvester, inspired by our great Kolbe's painting, has shown us a splendid collection of other pictures; and, though the colouring of them is delightful, still, they are nothing but pictures; they never could become situations, in living movement, as the narrative of the drama demands that they should do. Conrad, with _his_ Rosa, and Reinhold as well, come in at the end merely that Friedrich's wedding feast may be pleasant and proper, as it ought to be. On the whole--as far as Conrad is concerned--if I did not know your simpleness of heart, Sylvester--if you had not, all through your tale, striven with good success to be always true and straight-forward, well! I should have been inclined to say that--in your Conrad--you had wished to be ironical over those wondrous characters who, in many of our modern novels, play leading parts--a sort of hash-up of loutishness, '_galanterie_,' barbarism, and sentimentality who call themselves 'chivalrous,' but of whom, I fancy, there never was a prototype, any more than of those 'blusterers' whom Veit Weber and his followers used to portray, knocking everybody into minced meat, right and left, on every occasion."

Vincent said: "You have brought in the 'Berseker fury' certainly, with admirable effect. But it is unpardonable in you to have allowed a nobleman's back to be blued and blacked by the hoop of a cask, without the blue and blacked aristocrat having broken the head of the dealer of the blow. He might have begged his pardon politely afterwards, or applied an Arcanum which would have mended his head in a moment; after which he would have been aware of a distinct increase in his wisdom. The only gentleman whom you can quote as a prototype is the valiant knight Don Quixote, who got many a sound licking, notwithstanding his magnanimity, braggery, and chivalry."

"Blame as much as you please," said Sylvester, laughing. "I leave myself entirely in your hands; but let me say that where I find consolation is in the verdicts of those charming ladies to whom I read my 'Master Martin,' and who expressed thorough delight with the whole affair, and overwhelmed me with praise."

"Praise of that sort, from beautiful lips," said Ottmar, "certainly is wholly irresistible, and capable of leading many a romancer into wondrous follies, and scriptorial capers of every kind; but, if I am not mistaken, Lothair promised to finish this evening of ours with one of the productions of his fantastic dreamery."

"Yes," answered Lothair. "Recollect that I undertook to write a second story for my sister's children, and to be less wild, and more peaceable and 'childlike,' than I was in 'Nutcracker and the King of Mice.' The story is here, and you shall hear it."

Lothair then read:--

THE STRANGER CHILD.

BARON VON BRAKEL OF BRAKELHEIM.

There was once a noble gentleman named The Baron Thaddeus von Brakel, who lived in the little village of Brakelheim, which he had inherited from his deceased father, the old Baron von Brakel, and which, consequently, was his property. The four rustics, who were the other inhabitants of the village, called him "your Lordship," although, like themselves, he went about with his hair badly combed, and it was only on Sundays when he went to the neighbouring country town to church, with his lady and his two children (whose names were Felix and Christlieb)--that he substituted for the coarse cloth jacket, which he wore at other times, a fine green coat and a scarlet waistcoat with gold braid, which became him well. The same rustic neighbours, when any one chanced to ask, "How shall I find my way to the Baron von Brakel's?" were wont to reply: "Go straight on through the village, and up the hill where those birches are; his Lordship's castle is there." Now everybody knows that a castle is a great and lofty building, with a number of windows and doors, to say nothing of towers and glittering weathercocks; but nothing of this sort could be discovered on the hill where the birches were, all that was to be seen there being a commonplace little ordinary house, with a few small windows, which you could hardly see anything of, till you were close upon it. Now it is often the case that, at the portal of a grand castle, one suddenly halts, and--being breathed upon by the icy air which streams out of it, and glared at by the lifeless eyes of the strange sculptured figures which are fixed, like fearful warders, on the walls--loses all desires to go in, preferring to turn away. But this was by no means the case, as regarded Baron von Brakel's abode. For, first of all, the beautiful graceful birches, when one came to them, would bend their leafy branches like arms stretched out, to greet him, their rustling leaves whispering a "Welcome, welcome among us!" And when one reached the house, it seemed as if charming voices were calling, in dulcet tones, out of the bright, windows, and everywhere from among the thick dark leafage of the vine which covered the walls up to the roof: "Come, come, and rest, thou dear weary wanderer; here all is comfort and hospitality." This was also confirmed by the swallows, twittering merrily in and out of their nests; and the stately old stork looked down, gravely and wisely, from the chimney, and said: "I have passed my summers in this place now for many and many a year, and I know no better lodging in all the world; if it weren't for my inborn love of travel, which I can't control--if it weren't so very cold here in the winter, and wood so dear--I should never stir from the spot." Thus charming and delightful, although not a castle, was Baron von Brakel's house.

VISITORS OF DISTINCTION.

Madame von Brakel got up very early one morning, and baked a cake, into which she put a great many more almonds and raisins than even into her Easter cake, for which reason it had a much more delicious odour than that one itself had. While this was in progress, the Baron von Brakel thoroughly dusted and brushed his green coat and his red waistcoat, and Felix and Christlieb were dressed in the very best clothes they possessed. The Baron said to them: "You mustn't run about in the wood to-day, as you generally do, but sit still in the room, that you may look neat and nice when your distinguished uncle comes!"

The sun had emerged, bright and smiling, from the clouds, and was darting golden beams in at the window; out in the wood the morning breeze blew fresh, and the finch, the siskin, and the nightingale were all pouring out their hearts in joy, and warbling the loveliest songs in chorus. Christlieb was sitting silent, deep in thought, at the table, now and then smoothing and arranging the bow of her pink sash, now and then industriously striving to go on with her knitting, which, somehow, would by no means answer that morning. Felix, into whose hands papa had put a fine picture-book, looked away over the tops of the pages towards the beautiful Birchwood, where, every other morning but this, he might jump about for an hour or two to his heart's content. "Oh! isn't it jolly out there!" sighed he to himself; and when, in addition, the big yard-dog, Sultan by name, came barking and bounding before the window, dashing away a short distance in the direction of the wood, coming back again, and barking and growling afresh, as if he were saying to Felix, "Aren't you coming to the wood to-day? What on earth are you doing in that stuffy room?" Felix couldn't contain himself for impatience. "Oh, darling mamma, do just let me go out, only for a little!" he cried; but Madame von Brakel answered, "No, no, stay in the room, like a good boy. I know very well how it will be; if you go, Christlieb must go too, and then away you'll both scamper, helter skelter, through brush and briar, up into the trees. And then, back you'll come, all hot and smirched, and your uncle will say, 'What ugly country children are these? I am sure no Brakels, be they big or little, can ever be like that.'"

Felix clapped the book to in a rage, and said, as the tears of disappointment came into his eyes, "If our grand uncle talks of ugly country children, I'm sure he never can have seen Peter Vollrad or Annie Hentschel, or any of the children in the village here, for I know there couldn't be prettier children anywhere than they are." "I'm sure of that," said Christlieb, as if suddenly waking from a dream; "and isn't Maggy Schulz a beautiful child too, although she hasn't anything like as pretty ribbons as mine." "Do not talk such stupid nonsense," said their papa, "you don't understand what your uncle means, in so saying."

All further representations to the effect that just this day, of all others, it was so very glorious in the wood were of no avail, Felix and Christlieb had to stay in the room, and this was all the more painful because the company cake, which was on the table, gave out the most delicious odours, and yet might not be cut into until their uncle's arrival. "Oh! if he would but come! if he would but only come!" both the children cried, and almost wept with impatience. At last a vigorous trampling of horses became audible, and a carriage appeared, which was so brilliant and so richly covered with golden ornamentation, that the children were unspeakably amazed, for they had never beheld the like of it before. A tall and very thin man glided by help of the arm of the footman, who opened the carriage door, into the arms of Baron von Brakel, to whose cheek he twice gently laid his own, and whispered mincingly, "_Bon jour_, my dear cousin; now, no ceremony, I implore!" Meanwhile the footman had also aided a short stout lady, with very red cheeks, and two children, a boy and a girl, to glide down to earth from the carriage (which he performed with much dexterity), so that each of them came to their feet on the ground.

When they were all thus safely deposited, Felix and Christlieb came forward (as they had been duly prepared by mamma and papa to do), seized each a hand of the tall thin man, and said, kissing the same, "We are very glad you are come, dear noble uncle;" then they did the same with the hands of the stout lady, and said, "We are very glad you are come, dear noble aunt;" then they went up to the children, but stood before them quite dumfounded, for they had never seen children of the sort before. The boy had on long pantaloons, a little jacket of scarlet cloth covered all over with golden knots and embroidery, and a little bright sabre at his side; while on his head was a curious red cap with a white feather, from under which he peeped shyly and bashfully with his yellow face, and his bleared, heavy eyes. The girl had on a white dress--very much like Christlieb's, but with a frightful quantity of ribbons and tags--and her hair was most curiously frizzed up into knots, and twisted upon the top of her head, where there was, besides, a little shining coronet.

Christlieb plucked up courage, and was going to take the little girl's hand; but she snatched it away in a hurry, and put on such an angry tearful face, that Christlieb was quite frightened, and let her alone. Felix wanted to have a closer look at the boy's pretty sabre, and put out his hand to it, but the youngster began to cry, "My sabre, my sabre, he's going to take my sabre!" and ran to the thin man, behind whom he hid himself. Felix grew red in the face, and said, much annoyed: "_I_ don't want to take your sabre--young stupid!"

The last two words were murmured between his teeth, but Baron von Brakel seemed to have heard all, and was much put out about it, for he fingered his waistcoat nervously, and said, "Oh, Felix!" The stout lady said, "Adelgunda! Herrmann! the children are doing you no harm; do not be so silly." The thin gentleman saying, "They will soon make acquaintance," took Madam von Brakel by the hand, and conducted her to the house. Baron von Brakel followed him with the stout lady, to whose skirts Adelgunda and Herrmann clung. Christlieb and Felix came after them.

"The cake will be cut now," Felix whispered to his sister. "Oh, yes! oh, yes! yes!" answered she delighted. "And then we'll be off into the wood," continued Felix. "And not bother more about these stupid stranger things," added Christlieb. Felix cut a caper; and then they went into the room. Adelgunda and Herrmann might not have any of the cake, because their papa and mamma said it was not good for them; so each of them had a little biscuit, which the footman had to produce from a bag which he had brought. Felix and Christlieb munched bravely at the substantial piece of cake which their dear mamma had given to each, and enjoyed themselves.

THE FURTHER PROGRESS OF THE VISIT OF THE
DISTINGUISHED RELATIVES.

The thin gentleman, whose name was Cyprianus von Brakel, was first cousin to the Baron Thaddeus von Brakel, but a personage of far greater distinction. For, besides bearing the title of count, he wore upon every one of his coats--aye, even on his dressing-gown--a great silver star. Thus it had happened that when, about a year before, he had paid a flying visit one afternoon to his cousin, Baron Thaddeus--but alone that time, without the stout lady (who was his wife) and without the children Felix had said to him, "Please tell me, uncle, have you been made _king_ now?" For Felix had seen a picture of a king in his picture-book with just such a star on his breast, and naturally thought his uncle was one, since he wore this mark of royalty. His uncle had laughed much at the question on that occasion, and replied, "No, dear child, I am not the king, but I am the king's most faithful servant and minister, who rules over a great many people. If you belonged to the line of the Counts of Brakel, perhaps you might one day wear a star like this one of mine. As it is, you are only a simple 'von'--a baron, and cannot expect to come to very much."

Felix did not understand his uncle in the slightest, and his father thought it did not much matter whether he did or not. The uncle told his fat lady how Felix had thought he was the king; on which she ejaculated, "Sweet, delightful, _touching_ innocence!"

And now Felix and Christlieb had to come forward from the window, where they had been eating their cake with much kickering and laughter. Their mother wiped the cake-crumbs and raisin-remnants from their lips, and they were handed over to their gracious uncle and aunt, who kissed them, with loud ejaculations of, "Oh, sweet and darling nature! oh rural simplicity!" and placed big cornets of paper in their hands. Tears came to the eyes of Baron Thaddeus von Brakel, and to those of his wife, over this condescension of their grand kinsfolk. Meanwhile Felix had opened his paper-cornet, and found in it bonbons, at which he set to work to munch vigorously, in which Christlieb followed his example.

"My boy! my boy!" cried his gracious uncle, "that is not the way to do it; you will destroy your teeth! You must suck them gently till the sugar dissolves in your mouth." But Felix laughed, and said, "Gracious uncle! do you think I am a baby, and haven't got teeth to bite them with?" With which he put a bonbon in his mouth and gave it such a bite that everything rattled and rang. "Delicious naivety!" the fat lady cried. The uncle agreed; but drops of perspiration stood on Baron Thaddeus von Brakel's forehead. He was ashamed of Felix's lack of polish; and the mother whispered to the boy hurriedly, "Don't make such a clattering with those teeth of yours, ill-bred boy!" This put poor Felix into a state of utter consternation, for he didn't know he was doing anything wrong. He took the half-eaten bonbon out of his mouth, put it into the paper parcel again, and handed the whole thing back to his uncle, saying, "Take your sugar away with you again!--that's all I care about, if I mayn't eat it." Christlieb, accustomed to follow Felix's example in all things, did the same with _her_ paper-cornet. This was too much for poor Baron Thaddeus, who cried out, "Ah! my honoured and gracious cousin! do not be annoyed with the silliness of those simple children. Really, in the country, and in our straitened circumstances, alas! who could bring up children in the style in which you have brought up yours?" Count Cyprianus smiled a gracious smile as he glanced at Herrmann and Adelgunda. They had long since finished eating their biscuit, and were now sitting as mum as mice upon their chairs, without the slightest motion of either their faces or their limbs. The fat lady smiled too, and lisped out, "Really, dear cousin, the education of our children lies nearer our hearts than anything in the world." She made a sign to Count Cyprianus, who immediately turned to Herrmann and Adelgunda, and asked them all sorts of questions, which they answered with the utmost readiness. The questions were about towns, rivers, and mountains, many thousands of miles off, and having the oddest names; also they could tell what every sort of animal was like, which was to be found in the remotest quarters of the globe. Then they spoke of plants, trees, and shrubs, just as if they had seen them themselves, and eaten of the fruits. Herrmann gave a minute description of all that had happened at a great battle three hundred years ago, or more, and was able to cite the names of all the Generals who had taken part in it. At length Adelgunda even spoke of the stars, and stated that there were all sorts of beasts, and curious figures, in the sky. This made Felix quite frightened and uneasy; he got close to his mother, and whispered, "Ah, mamma! dearest mamma! what is all that nonsense that they're blabbering about?" "Hold your tongue, stupid boy!" his mother replied. "Those are the Sciences."

Felix held his peace.

"Astonishing!" cried Baron Thaddeus. "Quite unparalleled! at their time of life!" And Fran von Brakel sighed out, "Oh, Jemini! what little angels! What in the world is to become of _our_ little ones, out in the country here!"

Baron Thaddeus now joining in his wife's lamentations, Count Cyprianus comforted their hearts, by promising to send them, shortly, a man of much erudition, and specially skilled in the education of children.

Meanwhile the beautiful carriage had driven up to the door, and the "jaeger" came in with two great bandboxes, which Herrmann and Adelgunda took and handed to Felix and Christlieb. Herrmann, making a polite bow, said, "Are you fond of playthings, _mon cher_?--here I have brought you some of the finest kind." Felix hung his head. He felt melancholy; he did not know why. He held the bandbox in his hands, without expressing any thanks, and said in a murmur, "I'm not '_mon cher_,' and I'm not 'you'; I'm 'thou.'" And Christlieb was nearer crying than laughing, although the box which Adelgunda had handed her was giving forth the most delightful odours, as of delicious things to eat. The dog Sultan, Felix's faithful friend and darling, was dancing and barking, according to his wont; but Herrmann was so frightened at him that he hid himself in a corner and began to cry. "He's not touching _thee_," Felix cried. "He's only a dog. What art thou howling and screaming about? You know all about the most terrible wild beasts in the world, don't you?--and even if he were going to set upon you, haven't you your sword on?"

But Felix's words were of no avail. Herrmann went on howling till the servant had to take him in his arms and bear him off to the carriage. Adelgunda, suddenly infected by her brother's terror--or heaven knows from what other cause!--also began to scream and howl, which so affected poor Christlieb that _she_ began to cry too. Amid this yelling and screaming of the children, Count Cyprianus von Brakel took his departure from Brakelheim; and so terminated the visit of those distinguished relations.

THE NEW PLAYTHINGS.

When the carriage containing Count Cyprianus von Brakel and his family had rolled down the hill, Herr Thaddeus quickly threw off his green coat and his red waistcoat; and when he had, as quickly, put on his loose jacket, and passed his big comb two or three times through his hair, he drew a long breath, stretched himself, and cried, "God be thanked!" The children, too, got out of their Sunday clothes, and felt happy and light. "To the wood! to the wood!" cried Felix, executing some of his highest jumps.

"But don't you want to see what Herrmann and Adelgunda have brought you before you set off?" said their mother. And Christlieb, who had been contemplating the boxes with longing eyes even while her clothes were being changed, thought that _that would_ be a good thing to do first, and that it would be plenty of time to go to the wood afterwards. Felix was very hard to convince of this. He said, "What that can be of any consequence can that stupid pump-breeked creature have brought us?--and his ribbony sister into the bargain? About the 'sciences,' as you call them, he clatters away as finely as you please. He talks about bears and lions, and tells you how to take elephants, and then he's afraid of my dear dog Sultan; has a sword on, and goes and crawls under the table!--a nice sort of sportsman _he_ is!'

"Ah, dear, good Felix! just let us see, for a minute or two, what's inside the boxes." Thus prayed Christlieb; and as Felix always did anything he could to please her, he at once gave up the idea of being off to the wood immediately, and patiently sat down with her at the table on which the boxes were. The mother opened them; and then!--oh! my very dear readers! you have all been so happy when, at the time of the yearly fair, or at all events at Christmas, your parents and your friends flooded you with presents of every delightful kind. Remember how you danced for joy when pretty soldiers, and little fellows with barrel-organs, beautifully-dressed dolls, delightful picture-books, and all the rest, lay and stood before you. Such great delight as was then yours, Felix and Christlieb now experienced. For a really splendid assortment of the loveliest toys came out of those boxes, and all sorts of charming things to eat as well; so that the children clapped their hands again and again, crying, "Oh, how nice that is!" One paper parcel of bonbons, however, Felix laid aside with contempt; and when Christlieb begged him not to throw the glassy sugar out of the window, as he was going to do, he gave up that idea, and only chucked some of the bonbons to Sultan, who had come in wagging his tail. Sultan snuffed at them, and then turned his back on them disdainfully.

"Do you see, Christlieb," Felix cried, "Sultan won't have anything to do with the wretched stuff."

But, on the whole, none of the toys caused Felix such satisfaction as a certain little sportsman, who, when a little string which stuck out beneath his jacket was pulled, put his gun to his shoulder and fired at a target which was stuck up three spans in front of him. Next to him in his affections stood a little fellow, who made bows and salaams, and tinkled on a little harp when you turned a handle. But what pleased him more than all those things was a gun made of wood, and a hunting hanger, of wood also, and silvered over; also a beautiful hussar's busby and a sabretasche. Christlieb was equally delighted with a finely dressed doll and a set of charming furniture. The children forgot all about the woods, and enjoyed themselves over their playthings till quite late in the evening. They then went to their beds.

WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE NEW PLAYTHINGS IN THE WOOD.

Next day the children began where they had left off the night before; that is to say, they got out the boxes, took forth the toys, and amused themselves with them in many ways. Just as had been the case the day before, the sun shone brightly and kindly in at the windows; the birches, greeted by the sighing morning breeze, whispered and rustled; the birds rejoiced in loveliest songs of joy. Felix's heart was full of his sportsman, his harper, his gun, and sabretasche.

"I'll tell you what it is," he cried; "it's much nicer outside! Come, Christlieb, let's be off to the woods!"

Christlieb had just undressed her big doll, and was going to put its clothes on again, a matter of the greatest moment and interest to her, for which reason she would rather not have gone out just then, and said, in a tone of entreaty, "Hadn't we better stay here and play a little longer, Felix dear?"

"I'll tell you what well do, Christlieb; we'll take the best of our toys out to the woods with us. I'll put on my hanger, and sling the gun over my shoulder; and then, you see, I shall be a regular sportsman. The little hunter and the harper can come with me, and you can take your big doll and the best of your other things with you. Come along, let's be off."

Christlieb hastened to dress her doll as quickly as possible, and then they both made off to the wood with their playthings. There they established themselves in a nice, grassy place; and after they had played for a while, and Felix was making his harper tinkle his little tune, Christlieb said, "Do you know, Felix, that harper of yours doesn't play at all nicely. Just listen how wretched it sounds out here in the wood, that eternal 'ting-ting, plang-plang.' The birds peep down from the trees as though they were disgusted with that stupid musician who insists on accompanying them." Felix turned the handle more and more strenuously, and at length cried, "I think you're right, Christlieb. What the little fellow plays sounds quite horrible. I'm quite ashamed to see those thrushes there looking down at me with such wise eyes. He must make a better job of it." With which Felix screwed away at the handle with such force that crack! crack! the whole box on which the harp-man stood flew into a thousand splinters, and his arms fell down broken.

"Oh, oh!" Felix cried. "Ah! poor little harper!" sighed Christlieb. Felix looked at the broken toy for a minute or two, and then said, "Well, he was a stupid, senseless chap, after all. He played terribly poor music, and made faces, and bowed and scraped like our cousin Pump-breeks;" and he shied the harp-player as far as he could into the thicket. "What I like is my sportsman here," he went on to say. "He makes a bull's-eye every time he fires over and over again." And he kept on making him score a long succession of bull's-eyes accordingly.

When this had gone on for some time, however, Felix said, "It's stupid, all the same, that he should always make bull's-eyes; so very unsportsmanlike, you know--papa says so. A real sportsman has got to shoot deer, hares, and so forth, running. I can't have this chap going on aiming at a target; mustn't be any more of it; one gets weary of it; won't do." And Felix broke off the target which was fixed up in front of the shooting-man. "Now then," he cried, "fire away into the open."

But it was in vain that he pulled at the thread; the little man's arms hung limp and motionless; the gun rose no more to his shoulder--his shooting was at an end.

"Ha! ha!" Felix cried; "you could shoot at your target indoors; but out in the woods here, where the sportsman's home is, you can't, eh? I suppose you're afraid of dogs, too; and if one were to come you would take to your heels, gun and all, as cousin Pump-breeks did with his sword, wouldn't you? ugh! you stupid, useless dunderhead;" with which Felix shied him into the bushes after the harp-man.

"Come, let's run about a bit," he said to Christlieb. "Ah, yes, let us," said she; "this lovely doll of mine shall run with us too; that will be fun."

So Felix and Christlieb took each an arm of the doll, and off they set in full career, through the bushes, down the brae, and on and on till they came to a small lake, engarlanded with water-plants, which was on their father's property, and where he sometimes shot wild-duck. Here they came to a stand, and Felix said, "Suppose we wait here a little. I have a gun now, you know, and perhaps I may hit a duck among the rushes, like father."

At that moment Christlieb screamed out, "Oh! just look at my doll; what's the matter with her?"

Indeed, that poor thing was in a miserable condition enough. Neither Felix nor Christlieb had been paying any attention to her during their run, and so the bushes had torn all the clothes off her back, both her handsome legs were broken, and of the pretty waxen face there was scarcely a trace remaining, so marred and hideous did it appear.

"Oh, my poor, beautiful doll!" wept Christlieb.

"There, you see!" cried Felix; "those are the sort of trashy things those two stupid creatures brought and gave us. That doll of yours is nothing more or less than a stupid, idiotic slut. Can't so much as come for a little run with us but she must get her clothes all torn off her back, and herself spoilt and destroyed. Give me hold of her!"

Christlieb sorrowfully complied, and could scarcely restrain a cry of "Oh, oh!" as he chucked the doll, without more ado, into the pond.

"Never mind, dear!" Felix said, consoling his sister. "Never mind about the wretched thing. If I can only shoot a duck, you shall have all the beautiful wing feathers."

A rustle was heard amongst the rushes, and Felix instantly took aim with his wooden gun. But he moved it away from his shoulder speedily, saying--"Am I not a tremendous idiot myself?" Looking reflectively before him for a few minutes, he continued softly--

"How can a fellow shoot without powder and shot? And have I either the one or the other? And then, could I put powder into a wooden gun? What's the use, after all, of the stupid, wooden thing? And the hunting-knife! wooden, too. Can neither cut nor stab. Of course my cousin's sword was wooden as well! That was why he couldn't draw it when he was afraid of Sultan. I see what it all comes too. Cousin Pump-breeks was making a fool of me with his playthings, which only make-believe to be things, and are nothing but useless trumpery." With which Felix shied the gun, the hunting knife, and finally the sabretasche into the pond. But Christlieb was terribly distressed about her doll, and Felix himself couldn't help being annoyed at the way things had turned out. And in this mood of mind they crept back to the house; and when their mother asked them what had become of their playthings, Felix truthfully related how they had been deceived in the harper, the gun, the sabretasche, and the doll.

"Ah! you foolish children!" cried Frau von Brakel, half angry; "you don't know how to deal with nice toys of the kind."

But Baron Thaddeus, who had listened to Felix's tale with evident satisfaction, said, "Let the children alone; at the bottom, I am very glad they are fairly rid of those playthings. They didn't understand them, and were only bothered and vexed by them."

Neither Frau von Brakel nor the children understood what the Baron meant in so saying.

THE STRANGER CHILD.

Soon after those events, Felix and Christlieb had run off to the wood very early one morning. Their mother had impressed upon them that they were to be home very soon again, because it was necessary that they should stay in the house and read and write a great deal more than they used to do, that they might not lose countenance before the tutor, who was expected very soon. Wherefore Felix said, "We must jump and run about as much as we can for the little while that we are allowed to stay out here, that's all." So they immediately began to play at hare and hounds.

But that game, and also every other that they tried to play at, very soon only wearied them, and failed to amuse them after a second or two. They could not understand why it was that, on that particular day, thousands of vexatious annoyances should keep continually happening to them. The wind carried Felix's cap away into the bushes; he stumbled and fell down on his nose as he was running his best. Christlieb found herself hanging by her clothes in a thorn-tree, or banged her foot against a sharp stone, so that she had to shrink with pain. They soon gave it all up, and slunk along dejectedly through the wood.

"Let's go home," said Felix; "there's nothing else for it."

But instead of doing so, he threw himself down under a shady tree; Christlieb followed his example; and there the children lay, depressed and wretched, gazing at the ground.

"Ah!" said Christlieb; "if we only had our nice playthings."

"Bosh!" growled Felix; "what the better should we be? We should only smash them up and destroy them again. I'll tell you what it is, Christlieb. Mother is not far wrong, I suspect. The playthings were all right enough. But we didn't know how to play with them. And that's because we don't know anything about the 'sciences,' as they call them."

"You're quite right, Felix, dear," Christlieb said; "if we knew the 'sciences' all by heart, as those dressed-up cousins of ours do, we should still have your harp-man and your sportsman; and my poor doll would not be at the bottom of the duck-pond. Poor things that we are! Ah! we know nothing about the 'sciences'!"

And therewith Christlieb began to sob and cry bitterly, and Felix joined her in so doing. And they both howled and lamented till the wood re-echoed again, crying, "Poor unfortunate children that we are! we know nothing of the 'sciences.'"

But suddenly they ceased, and asked one another in amazement--

"Do you see, Christlieb?" "Do you hear, Felix?"

From out the deepest shades of the dark thicket which lay before the children, a wonderful luminousness began to shine, playing like moonlight over the leaves, which trembled in ecstasy. And through the whispering trees there came a sweet musical tone, like that which we hear when the wind awakens the chords slumbering within a harp. The children felt a sense of awe come over them. All their vexation had passed away from them; but tears of a sweet, unknown pain rose to their eyes.

As the radiance streamed brighter through the bushes, and the marvellous music-tones grew louder and louder, the children's hearts beat high: they gazed eagerly at the brightness, and then they saw, smiling at them from the thicket, the face of the most beautiful child imaginable, with the sun beaming on it in all its splendour.

"Oh, come to us!--come to us, darling child!" cried Christlieb and Felix, as they stretched their arms with indescribable longing towards the beautiful creature. "I am coming!--I am coming!" a sweet voice cried from the bushes; and then, as if borne on the wings of the morning breeze, the Stranger Child seemed to come hovering over to Christlieb and Felix.

HOW THE STRANGER CHILD PLAYED WITH FELIX AND CHRISTLIEB.

"I thought I heard you, out of the distance, crying and lamenting," said the Stranger Child, "and then I was very sorry for you. What is the matter, you dear children?--what is it you want?"

"Ah," Felix said, "we didn't quite know what it was that we _did_ want! But now, as far as I can make out, what we wanted was just you yourself." "That is it!" Christlieb chimed in; "now that you are with us, we are happy again. Why were you so long in coming?"

In fact, both children felt as though they had known and played with the Stranger Child for a long time already, and that their unhappiness had been only because this beloved playmate was not with them.

"You see," Felix said, in continuation, "we really haven't got any playthings left; for I, like a stupid fool, went and destroyed a number of the very finest, which my cousin Pump-breeks gave me, and I shied them away. Never mind; we shall play somehow for all that."

"How can you talk so, Felix," said the Stranger Child, laughing aloud. "Certainly the stuff you threw away wasn't of much value; but you, and Christlieb too, are in the very middle of a quantity of the most exquisite play-things that were ever seen."

"Where--where are they?" Felix and Christlieb cried.

"Look round you," said the Stranger Child; and Felix and Christlieb then saw how, out of the thick grass and the wool-like moss, all sorts of glorious flowers were peeping, with bright eyes gleaming, and between them many-coloured stones and crystalline shells sparkled and shone, while little golden insects danced up and down, humming little gentle songs.