"Listen, children! That must be the song of a nightingale. How sweet it is!"
It was a lovely Sunday afternoon. Every one in the family had been to church in the morning, and come home to a good dinner of bean soup and potato salad. Then the father had said:
"Let us take a long walk over the fields and through the woods. The world is beautiful to-day. We can enjoy it best by leaving the house behind us."
Some of the neighbours joined the merry party. The men smoked their pipes, while the women chatted together and the children frolicked about them and picked wild flowers.
How many sweet smells there were in the fields! How gaily the birds sang! The air seemed full of peace and joy.
They all wandered on till they came to a cascade flowing down over some high rocks. Trees grew close to the waterfall, and bent over it as though to hide it from curious eyes.
It was a pretty spot.
"Let us sit down at the foot of this cascade," said Bertha's father,"It is a pleasant place to rest."
Every one liked the plan. Bertha nestled close to her father's side.
"Tell us a story. Please do," she said.
"Ask neighbour Abel. He knows many a legend of just such places as this. He has lived in the Hartz Mountains, and they are filled with fairy stories."
The rest of the party heard what was said.
"Neighbour Abel! A story, a story," they cried.
Of course the kind-hearted German could not refuse such a general request. Besides, he liked to tell stories. Taking his long pipe out of his mouth, he laid it down on the ground beside him. Then he cleared his throat and began to speak.
"Look above you, friends. Do you see that mark on the rocky platform overhead? I noticed it as soon as I got here. It made me think of a wild spot in the Hartz Mountains where there is just such a mark. The people call it 'The Horse's Hoof-print.' I will tell you how they explain its coming there.
"Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess. Her name was Brunhilda, and she lived in Bohemia. She lived a gay and happy life, like most young princesses, till one day a handsome prince arrived at her father's palace. He was the son of the king of the Hartz country.
"Of course, you can all guess what happened. The prince fell in love with the princess, and she returned his love. The day was set for the wedding, and the young prince went home to prepare for the great event.
"But he had been gone only a short time when a powerful giant arrived at Brunhilda's home. He came from the far north. His name was Bodo.
"He asked for the princess in marriage, but her heart had already been given away. She did not care for the giant, even though he gave her the most elegant presents,—a beautiful white horse, jewels set in gold, and chains of amber.
"'I dare not refuse the giant,' said Brunhilda's father. 'He is very powerful, and we must not make him angry. You must marry him, my daughter, in three days.'
"The poor maiden wept bitterly. It seemed as though her heart would break. But she was a clever girl, and she soon dried her tears and began to think of some plan by which she might yet be free. She began to smile upon the giant and treat him with great kindness.
"'I should like to try the beautiful horse you brought me,' she said to him. He was much pleased. The horse was brought to the door. The princess mounted him and rode for a time up and down in front of the palace.
"The very next day was that set apart for the wedding. The castle was filled with guests who feasted and made merry. The giant entered into everything with a will. He laughed till the floors and walls shook. Little did he think what was taking place. For the princess slipped out of the castle when no one was watching, hurried into the stable, and leaped upon the back of her swift white horse.
"'Lower the drawbridge instantly,' she called to the guard. She passed over it, and away she flew like the wind.
"You were too late, too late, O giant, when you discovered thatBrunhilda was missing.
"He flew out of the castle, and on the back of his own fiery black horse he dashed after the runaway princess.
"On they went! On, on, without stopping. Over the plains, up and down the hillsides, through the villages. The sun set and darkness fell upon the world, but there was never a moment's rest for the maiden on the white horse or the giant lover on his black steed.
"Sometimes in the darkness sparks were struck off from the horses' hoofs as they passed over rough and rocky places. These sparks always showed the princess ahead and slowly increasing the distance between herself and her pursuer.
"When the morning light first appeared, the maiden could see the summit of the Brocken ahead of her. It was the home of her lover. Her heart leaped within her. If she could only reach it she would be safe.
"But alas! her horse suddenly stood still. He would not move. He had reached the edge of a precipice. There it lay, separating the princess from love and safety.
"The brave girl had not a moment to lose. The giant was fast drawing near. She wheeled her horse around; then, striking his sides a sharp blow with her whip, she urged him to leap across the precipice.
"The spring must be strong and sure. It was a matter of life and death. The chasm was deep. If the horse should fail to strike the other side securely, it meant a horrible end to beast and rider.
"But he did not fail. The feet of the brave steed came firmly down upon the rocky platform. So heavily did they fall that the imprint of a hoof was left upon the rock.
"The princess was now safe. It would be an easy matter for her to reach her lover's side.
"As for the giant, he tried to follow Brunhilda across the chasm. But he was too heavy and his horse failed to reach the mark. The two sank together to the bottom of the precipice."
Every one thanked the story-teller, and begged him to tell more of the Hartz Mountains, where he had spent his boyhood days. The children were delighted when he spoke of the gnomes, in whom he believed when he was a child.
"Every time I went out in the dark woods," he said, "I was on the lookout for these funny little fairies of the underground world. I wanted to see them, but at the same time I was afraid I should meet them.
"I remember one time that my mother sent me on an errand through the woods at twilight. I was in the thickest part of the woods, when I heard a sound that sent a shiver down my back.
"'It is a witch, or some other dreadful being,' I said to myself. 'Nothing else could make a sound like that.' My teeth chattered. My legs shook so, I could hardly move. Somehow or other, I managed to keep on. It seemed as though hours passed before I saw the lights of the village. Yet I suppose it was not more than fifteen minutes.
"When I was once more safe inside my own home, I told my father and mother about my fright.
"'It was no witch, my child,' said my father. 'The sound you describe was probably the cry of a wildcat. I thank Heaven that you are safe. A wildcat is not a very pleasant creature to meet in a lonely place.'
"After that, I was never sent away from the village after dark.
"My boy friends and I often came across badgers and deer, and sometimes foxes made their way into the village in search of poultry, but I never came nearer to meeting a wildcat than the time of which I have just told you."
"What work did you do out of school hours?" asked Hans. The boy was thinking of the toys he had to carve.
"My mother raised canary-birds, and I used to help her a great deal. Nearly every woman in the village was busy at the same work. What concerts we did have in those days! Mother tended every young bird she raised with the greatest care. Would it become a good singer and bring a fair price? We waited anxiously for the first notes, and then watched to see how the voices gained in strength and sweetness.
"It was a pleasant life, and I was very happy among the birds in our little village. Would you like to hear a song I used to sing at that time? It is all about the birds and bees and flowers."
"Do sing it for us," cried every one.
Herr Abel had a good voice and they listened with pleasure to his song. This is the first stanza:
"I have been on the mountainThat the song-birds love best.They were sitting, were flitting,They were building their nest.They were sitting, were flitting,They were building their nest."
After he had finished, he told about the mines in which some of his friends worked. It was a hard life, with no bright sunlight to cheer the men in those deep, dark caverns underground.
"Of course you all know that the deepest mine in the world is in theHartz Mountains."
His friends nodded their heads, while Hans whispered to Bertha, "I should like to go down in that mine just for the sake of saying I have been as far into the earth as any living person."
"The sun is setting, and there is a chill in the air," said Bertha's father. "Let us go home."
Bertha's mother had just come in from a hard morning's work in the fields. She had been helping her husband weed the garden.
She spent a great deal of time outdoors in the summer-time, as many German peasant women do. They do a large share of the work in ploughing the grain-fields and harvesting the crops. They are much stronger than their American cousins.
"Supper is all ready and waiting for you," said Bertha.
The little girl had prepared a dish of sweet fruit soup which her mother had taught her to make.
[Illustration: Bertha's Home.]
"It is very good," said her father when he had tasted it. "My littleBertha is getting to be quite a housekeeper."
"Indeed, it is very good," said her mother. "You learned your lesson well, my child."
Bertha was quite abashed by so much praise. She looked down upon her plate and did not lift her eyes again till Gretchen began to tell of a new amber bracelet which had just been given to one of the neighbours.
"It is beautiful," said Gretchen, quite excitedly. "The beads are such a clear, lovely yellow. They look so pretty on Frau Braun's neck, I don't wonder she is greatly pleased with her present."
"Who sent it to her?" asked her mother.
"Her brother in Cologne. He is doing well at his trade, and so he bought this necklace at a fair and sent it to his sister as a remembrance. He wrote her a letter all about the sights in Cologne, and asked Frau Braun to come and visit him and his wife.
"He promised her in the letter that if she would come, he would take her to see the grand Cologne cathedral. He said thousands of strangers visit it every year, because every one knows it is one of the most beautiful buildings in all Europe.
"Then he said she should also see the Church of Saint Ursula, where the bones of the eleven thousand maidens can still be seen in their glass cases."
"Do you know the story of St. Ursula, Gretchen?" asked her father.
"Yes, indeed, sir. Ursula was the daughter of an English king. She was about to be married, but she said that before the wedding she would go to Rome on a pilgrimage.
"Eleven thousand young girls went with the princess. On her way home she was married, but when the wedding party had got as far as Cologne, they were attacked by the savage Huns. Every one was killed,—Ursula, her husband, and the eleven thousand maidens. The church was afterward built in her memory. Ursula was made a saint by the Pope, and the bones of the young girls were preserved in glass cases in the church."
"Did Frau Braun tell of anything else her brother wrote?" asked her mother.
"He spoke of the bridge of boats across the river, and said she would enjoy watching it open and shut to let the steamers and big rafts pass through. And he told of the Cologne water that is sold in so many of the shops. It is hard to tell which makes the town most famous, the great cathedral or the Cologne water."
"Father, how was the bridge of boats made?" asked Bertha.
"The boats were moored in a line across the river. Planks were then laid across the tops and fastened upon them. Vessels cannot pass under a bridge of this kind, so it has to be opened from time to time. They say it is always interesting to see this done."
"Yes, Frau Braun said she would rather see the bridge of boats than anything else in the city. She has already begun to plan how she can save up enough money to make the trip."
"I will go over there to-morrow to see her new necklace," saidBertha. "But what is amber, father?"
"If you should go to the northern part of Germany, Bertha, you would see great numbers of men, women, and children, busy on the shores of the ocean. The work is greatest in the rough days of autumn, when a strong wind is blowing from the northeast.
"Then the men dress themselves as though they were going out into a storm. They arm themselves with nets and plunge into the waves, which are bringing treasure to the shore. It is the beautiful amber we admire so much.
"The women and children are waiting on the sands, and as the men bring in their nets, the contents are given into their hands. They separate the precious lumps of amber from the weeds to which they are clinging."
Their father stopped to fill his pipe, and the children thought he had come to the end of the story.
"But you haven't told us yet what amber is," said Bertha.
"Be patient, my little one, and you shall hear," replied her father, patting her head. "As yet, I have not half told the story. But I will answer your question at once.
"A long time ago, longer than you can imagine, Bertha, forests were growing along the shores of the Baltic Sea. There was a great deal of gum in the trees of these forests. It oozed out of the trees in the same manner as gum from the spruce-tree and resin from the pine.
"Storms arose, and beds of sand and clay drifted over the forests. They were buried away for thousands of years, it may be. But the motion of the sea washes up pieces of the gum, which is of light weight.
"The gum has become changed while buried in the earth such a long, long time. Wise men use the word 'fossilized' when they speak of what has happened to it. The now beautiful, changed gum is called amber.
"There are different ways of getting it. I told you how it comes drifting in on the waves when the winds are high and the water is rough. But on the pleasant summer days, when the sea is smooth and calm, the men go out a little way from the shore in boats. They float about, looking earnestly over the sides of the boats to the bottom of the sea.
"All at once, they see something. Down go their long hooks through the water. A moment afterward, they begin to tow a tangle of stones and seaweed to the shore. As soon as they land, they begin to sort out the great mass. Perhaps they will rejoice in finding large pieces of amber in the collection.
"There is still another way of getting amber. I know Hans will be most interested in what I am going to say now. It has more of danger in it, and boys like to hear anything in the way of adventure."
Hans looked up and smiled. His father knew him well. He was a daring lad. He was always longing for the time when he should grow up and be a soldier, and possibly take part in some war.
"Children," their father went on, "you have all heard of divers and of their dangerous work under the sea. Gretchen was telling me the other day about her geography lesson, and of the pearl-divers along the shores of India. I did not tell her then that some men spend their lives diving for amber on the shores of our own country.
"They wear rubber suits and helmets and air-chests of sheet iron."
"How can they see where they are going?" asked Bertha.
"There are glass openings in their helmets, and they can look through these. They go out in boats. The crew generally consists of six men. Two of them are divers, and four men have charge of the air-pumps. These pumps force fresh air down through tubes fastened to the helmet of each diver. Besides these men there is an overseer who has charge of everything.
"Sometimes the divers stay for hours on the bed of the sea, and work away at the amber tangles."
"But suppose anything happens to the air-tubes and the men fail to get as much air as they need?" said Hans. "Is there any way of letting those in the boat know they are in trouble? And, besides that, how do the others know when it is time to raise the divers with their precious loads?"
"There is a safety-rope reaching from the boat to the men. When they pull this rope it is a sign that they wish to be drawn up. But I have told you as much about amber now as you will be able to remember."
"Are you very tired, father dear?" said Bertha, in her most coaxing tone.
"Why should I be tired? What do you wish to ask me? Come, speak out plainly, little one."
"You tell such lovely fairy-tales, papa, I was just wishing for one. See! The moon is just rising above the tree-tops. It is the very time for stories of the wonderful beings."
Her father smiled. "It shall be as you wish, Bertha. It is hard to refuse you when you look at me that way. Come, children, let us sit in the doorway. Goodwife, put down your work and join us while I tell the story of Siegfried, the old hero of Germany."
Far away in the long ago there lived a mighty king with his goodwife and his brave son, Siegfried. Their home was at Xanten, where the river Rhine flows lazily along.
The young prince was carefully taught. But when his education was nearly finished, his father said:
"Siegfried, there is a mighty smith named Mimer. It will be well for you to learn all you can of him in regard to the making of arms."
So Siegfried went to work at the trade of a smith. It was not long before he excelled his teacher. This pleased Mimer, who spent many spare hours with his pupil, telling him stories of the olden times.
After awhile, he took Siegfried into his confidence. He said:
"There is a powerful knight in Burgundy who has challenged every smith of my country to make a weapon strong enough to pierce his coat of mail.
"I long to try," Mimer went on, "but I am now old and have not strength enough to use the heavy hammer."
At these words Siegfried jumped up in great excitement.
"I will make the sword, dear master," he cried. "Be of good cheer.It shall be strong enough to cut the knight's armour in two."
Early the next morning, Siegfried began his work. For seven days and seven nights the constant ringing of his hammer could be heard. At the end of that time Siegfried came to his master with a sword of the finest steel in his right hand.
Mimer looked it all over. He then held it in a stream of running water in which he had thrown a fine thread. The water carried the thread against the edge of the sword, where it was cut in two.
"It is without a fault," cried Mimer with delight.
"I can do better than that," answered Siegfried, and he took the sword and broke it into pieces.
Again he set to work. For seven more days and seven more nights he was busy at his forge. At the end of that time he brought a polished sword to his master.
Mimer looked it over with the greatest care and made ready to test it.
He threw the fleeces of twelve sheep into the stream. The current carried them on its bosom to Siegfried's sword. Instantly, each piece was divided as it met the blade. Mimer shouted aloud in his Joy.
"Balmung" (for that was the name Siegfried gave the sword) "is the finest weapon man ever made," he cried.
Siegfried was now prepared to meet the proud knight of Burgundy.
The very first thrust of the sword, Balmung, did the work. The head and shoulders of the giant were severed from the rest of the body. They rolled down the hillside and fell into the Rhine, where they can be seen even now, when the water is clear. At least, so runs the story. The trunk remained on the hilltop and was turned to stone.
Soon after this Mimer found that Siegfried longed to see the world and make himself famous. So he bound the sword Balmung to the young prince's side, and told him to seek a certain person, who would give him a fine war-horse.
Siegfried went to this man, from whom he obtained a matchless steed.In fact it had descended from the great god Odin's magic horse.Siegfried, you can see, must have lived in a time when men believedin gods and other wonderful beings.
He was now all ready for his adventures, but before starting out, Mimer told him of a great treasure of gold guarded by a fearful serpent. This treasure was spread out over a plain called the Glittering Heath. No man had yet been able to take it, because of its terrible guardian.
Siegfried was not in the least frightened by the stories he heard of the monster. He started out on his dangerous errand with a heart full of courage.
At last, he drew near the plain. He could see it on the other side of the Rhine, from the hilltop where he was standing. With no one to help him, not even taking his magic horse with him, he hurried down the hillside and sprang into a boat on the shore.
An old man had charge of the boat, and as he rowed Siegfried across, he gave him good advice. This old man, as it happened, was the god Odin, who loved Siegfried and wished to see him succeed.
"Dig a deep trench along the path the serpent has worn on his way to the river when in search of water," said the old boatman. "Hide yourself in the trench, and, as the serpent passes along, you must thrust your sword deep into his body."
It was good advice. Siegfried did as Odin directed him. He went to work on the trench at once. It was soon finished, and then the young prince, sword in hand, was lying in watch for the dread monster.
He did not have long to wait. He soon heard the sound of rolling stones. Then came a loud hiss, and immediately afterward he felt the serpent's fiery breath on his cheek.
And now the serpent rolled over into the ditch, and Siegfried was covered by the folds of his huge body. He did not fear or falter. He thrust Balmung, his wonderful sword, deep into the monster's body. The blood poured forth in such torrents that the ditch began to fill fast.
It was a time of great danger for Siegfried. He would have been drowned if the serpent in his death-agony had not rolled over on one side and given him a chance to free himself.
In a moment more he was standing, safe and sound, by the side of the ditch. His bath in the serpent's blood had given him a great blessing. Hereafter it would be impossible for any one to wound him except in one tiny place on his shoulder. A leaf had fallen on this spot, and the blood had not touched it.
"What did Siegfried do with the golden treasure?" asked Hans, when his father had reached this point in the story.
"He had not sought it for himself, but for Mimer's sake. All he cared for was the power of killing the serpent."
As soon as this was done, Mimer drew near and showed himself ungrateful and untrue. He was so afraid Siegfried would claim some of the treasure that he secretly drew Balmung from out the serpent's body, and made ready to thrust it into Siegfried.
But at that very moment his foot slipped in the monster's blood, and he fell upon the sword and was instantly killed.
Siegfried was filled with horror when he saw what had happened. He sprang upon his horse's back and fled as fast as possible from the dreadful scene.
"What happened to Siegfried after that? Did he have any more adventures?" asked Bertha.
"Yes, indeed. There were enough to fill a book. But there is one in particular you girls would like to hear. It is about a beautiful princess whom he freed from a spell which had been cast upon her."
"What was her name, papa?" asked Gretchen.
"Brunhild, the Queen of Isenland. She had been stung by the thorn of sleep."
Odin, the great god, had said, "Brunhild shall not awake till some hero is brave enough to fight his way through the flames which shall constantly surround the palace. He must then go to the side of the sleeping maiden and break the charm by a kiss upon her forehead."
When Siegfried, in his wanderings, heard the story of Brunhild, he said, "I will make my way through the flames and will myself rescue the fair princess."
He leaped upon the back of his magic steed, and together they fought their way through the fire that surrounded the palace of the sleeping beauty. He reached the gates in safety. There was no sign of life about the place. Every one was wrapped in a deep sleep.
Siegfried made his way to the room of the enchanted princess. Ah! there she lay, still and beautiful, with no knowledge of what was going on around her.
The young knight knelt by her side. Leaning over her, he pressed a kiss upon her forehead. She moved slightly; then, opening her blue eyes, she smiled sweetly upon her deliverer.
At the same moment every one else in the palace woke up and went on with whatever had been interrupted when sleep overcame them.
Siegfried remained for six months with the fair Brunhild and her court. Every day was given up to music and feasting, games and songs. Time passed like a beautiful dream. No one knows how long the young knight might have enjoyed this happy life if Odin had not sent two birds. Thought and Memory, to remind him there were other things for him yet to do.
He did not stop to bid Brunhild farewell, but leaped upon his horse's back and rode away in search of new adventures.
"Dear me, children," exclaimed their father, looking at the clock, "it is long past the time you should be in your soft, warm beds."
"Papa, do you know what day to-morrow is?" whispered Bertha, as she kissed him good night.
"My darling child's birthday. It is ten years to-morrow since your eyes first looked upon the sunlight. They have been ten happy years to us all, though our lives are full of work. What do you say to that, my little one?"
"Very happy, papa dear. You and mother are so kind! I ought to be good as well as happy."
"She is a faithful child," said her mother, after Bertha had left the room. "That is why I have a little surprise ready for to-morrow. I have baked a large birthday cake and shall ask her little friends to share it with her.
"Her aunt has finished the new dress I bought for her, and I have made two white aprons, besides. She will be a happy child when she sees her presents."
The mother closed her eyes and made a silent prayer to the All-Father that Bertha's life should be as joyful as her tenth birthday gave promise of being.