FOOL-HARDY CARL HOFER, AND THE WATER-LADY.

A good many years ago, on the banks of the Rhine, there lived a boy named Carl Hofer. “Climbing Carl” he was often called because he excelled in climbing; and, quite as frequently, he was called “Fool-hardy Carl,” because he would put himself in very unsafe places, where no sensible person would venture. Everybody said he would be killed some day; and the wonder was that he had reached the age of fourteen years without breaking his neck. His father and mother had tried every means of curing him of these foolish ways; but, although he was a pretty good boy in regard to most things, he was very disobedient about climbing.

His parents were willing he should climb even the tallest trees; and they were quite proud at the gymnasium to see him run lightly up the long ladders, and across the open framework, near the roof. You might say that this also was a dangerous thing to do. That is true, but Carl’s skill in this art, and his long practice made it next to impossible that he should fall. But he would go up places where no amount of skill or practice could save him in case of accident. He would climb a dead tree, for instance, though he knew a rotten branch might break at any moment, and throw him headlong to the ground, or he would go up a tottering wall. It iscourageousto put yourself intopossibledanger, for the sake of accomplishing some good. No boy can learn to ride, or climb, or swim without incurring possible danger. But that is very different from putting yourself intoalmost certaindanger just for the sake of doing a thing when no good is to come of it. When people act in this way they are fool-hardy.

And Carl was not content to be courageous, which is a very good thing, but he must also be fool-hardy, which is a very silly thing.

THE PLACE WAS STRANGE TO HIM.

One day he set out alone for a long walk down the river. It was a holiday, so he had plenty of time before him. He walked a very long time before he sat down to rest; and then he looked around him to see where he was. The place was strangeto him, so that he knew he must be a long way from home. There was no house near, and no person was in sight. But Carl was not afraid, for he was used to rambling about the woods, and he felt sure there was nothing there to hurt him.

There was nothing to hurt him but his own foolish self.

Close by him was a beautiful hill, down which fell a little cascade. It was not very high, but rose up almost perpendicularly from where he was sitting. He felt a great desire to see what was on the other side of that hill. He could easily have gone around it, on the inland side, but that did not suit his taste. He remembered that he had given his promise to his mother, that morning, that he would not do one fool-hardy thing that day. But was this fool-hardy? The hill was very steep, but there were trees and saplings to help him in the ascent. He did not hesitate long. He started up the hill. If he had continued up the side he began upon, it would not have been so very bad, for if his foot had slipped he might have had his fall so broken by bushes and tufts of grass that there would have been a possibility of his reaching the ground without any great injury. But he soon found that the side of the hill by the river was even more steep than the one he was on, and he swung himself round by the tree branches until he reached that side. Up he went, digging hands and heels into the spongy turf, and catching hold of the saplings, and bushes that came in his way. If his foot had slipped then, he would have gone plump into the river.

But his foot did not slip, and he reached the top in safety. A little ravine lay at his feet, and on the other side of this, close to the river bank, there stood a stone tower. Eager to examine this curiosity, Carl partly ran, and partly slid down the hill, which was much less steep on that side, and ran across the ravine to the base of the tower.

It was all that was left of an old castle. Many of the stones had fallen from the top, and some from its sides, and it was a very shaky-lookingaffair. But Carl did not care for this. The walls were very thick, and he felt sure the large broken pinnacle at the top was broad enough for him to stand on. It would be great fun to stand on that! He forgot his promise to his mother, and began at once to climb; sometimes lifting himself up by taking hold of projecting stones, and sometimes working up by putting feet and hands into crevices in the wall.

He was not half way up when he made a mis-step. He felt that he was slipping, and clutched frantically at a projecting stone. He grasped the stone with both hands, but alas! it shook with the grasp, and Carl knew that it was giving way. He hung thus but a moment, though it seemed a long period to him, for he had time to think of his home, and his father, and mother, and little sisters, and that he should never see them more. He wondered if they would ever know what had become of him, and would learn, that he did die, finally, in a fool-hardy adventure, as everybody had always said he would. Then the stone rolled out from the wall, and out of Carl’s hands, falling some thirty feet, and plunging into the water with great force. And down went Carl, right in its track.

This part of the river was the home of a kind, and beautiful Water-Lady, called by the Germans a Nix. Looking up through the water (for she spent nearly all her time at the bottom of the river) she saw Carl climb the hill, and was so much pleased with his skilful climbing and his bright face, that when he reached the top of the hill, she floated up to the surface of the water to see what he would do next. She watched him down the hill, and across the ravine; but, when he stood looking up to the top of the ruined tower, the Nix guessed that he was thinking of climbing it; and she determined to draw him away from this dangerous place.

The Nixies play upon the harp lovely music that mortals may not hope to play. So the Nix went down to the bottom of the river andsoon reappeared on the surface with a graceful harp, made of beaten gold. She left the river, and, standing among the water plants at the foot of the hill Carl had climbed, she played soft, sweet strains of fairy music on her harp. In this way she thought she would beguile him from the dangerous tower back to the hill; and, when he was safe, she would disappear; for the Nixies do not care to be seen of mortals.

But Carl was so absorbed in his foolish project of scaling the wall, and the music was so very soft, he did not heed it. Twice in his ascent he paused to listen to what he imagined to be lovely strains of music. This was when the Nix, on peeping around the curve made by the hill, saw that the boy had already started on his perilous journey, and played louder to call him back. But Carl concluded he was mistaken, and that the melodious sound was the wind rustling among the vines.

When the Nix heard the plunge into the water she supposed that all was over; and, standing her harp against a rock, she leaned her head upon her hand, and thought sorrowfully of the bright boy who had come to such a sudden end through his own folly.

But Carl was not dead. The force with which he struck the water sent him far down into its depths, and rendered him unconscious. So that when he rose to the surface again he lay on the water without motion, and, apparently, without life. In this condition he floated to the spot where the Nix was standing. For a moment she gazed at him sorrowfully, and then her face suddenly brightened. For she saw that the boy was still living, though he was insensible to everything around him.

Quickly she seized her harp, and played the liveliest, merriest music that the fairies know. The notes seemed to be dancing, and jumping, and rolling and tumbling over each other in great glee, and yet it was true music, and perfect harmony. So penetrating and so stirring was it that it reached Carl’s benumbed senses. He opened his eyes,and seeing a beautiful lady in white robes, holding a golden harp, and playing this lovely music, no wonder he thought he was in heaven.

THE NIX GRIEVING FOR CARL.

This delusion lasted but a moment, however, for he soon felt himself sinking again into the cold water. But he was able now to make an effort to save himself, and he grasped tightly the long reed stems that lay near him. This prevented his sinking far into the water, and the Nix left her harp, and gliding swiftly into the river, supported Carl so that his head and arms were out of the water, and he couldmake some attempt to swim. And, in this way, the Nix helped him to the bank.

He was so weak from fright, and the long time he had been in the water, that he could not even speak to the Nix to thank her for saving his life. He could only look his gratitude as he lay panting on the grass. But as soon as he revived a little and had uttered the first word to the lady she faded from his sight, and he only saw a wreath of white mist gliding over the reeds.

Carl sprang up in astonishment. The waves parted as if some one had gently sunk into them, and he thought that he saw, for a moment a gleam of bright hair. Not till then did he know that the beautiful lady, who had preserved him, was a Nix.

Close to his side stood her harp. The Nix had forgotten it! Here was a prize! There was gold enough in it for a moderate fortune, and Carl was poor. Carl had always had a great desire to be a musician, and this gold would send him to Berlin or Vienna to study at a Conservatory of Music; and do a great deal besides for his father, and mother, and sisters. But the boy was honest, and he knew he had no right to take away the property of another, even if the owner was only a Nix. But he thought he might be allowed to play upon it. He had learned to play two or three tunes on the harp. No sooner did he touch the strings, however, than he found he did not play his own music at all, but the magical music the Nix played. Carl was in ecstacies, and his fingers flew over the strings, wandering through one fairy melody after another until his arm ached, and he saw that the sun had set, and twilight was coming on.

He must go home. But now he felt a stronger desire than ever to take the harp with him. How he would astonish all the town with his music! He would give concerts in the great hall, and, perhaps, the fame of his wonderful music would reach the king and queen, and they would come to hear him. But all this did not make it right for him totake what was not his own; and it would be a poor return to make the Nix for her kindness to steal her harp.

But, perhaps she left it there, intending he should have it! How was he to know? He called to her to tell him if the harp was his, but there was no reply.

He resolved he would leave it where it stood, but would return to the spot the next day. If the harp was still there he might fairly conclude that the Nix intended he should have it.

He left the harp reluctantly, and started on his homeward journey, but had not gone far before he had to lie down and rest. His head ached, and all his limbs felt tired and sore. It is probable he would have been obliged to spend the night in the forest, if some marketmen had not come along the road, and taken him home in their wagon.

He related his adventures to the family, and the next day his father accompanied him to the old tower. Everything was exactly as Carl had described it. The place whence the stone had fallen out of the wall was plainly to be seen, with the freshly loosened mortar strewn about. But there was no golden harp. And there was neither sight nor sound of Nix or Fairy Music.

FAIRY MUSIC.

From that day Carl lost all desire for fool-hardy adventures. Hislove of music grew stronger and stronger, and his parents had some trouble in getting him to attend properly to his other studies. He said the Nix had left her harp with him for a short time that he might take from it an inspiration of melody that would be his forever; and that she had then taken the harp away lest he should learn too much, and play such music as only the angels could understand.

All the beautiful things he saw; all the sweet sounds of Nature; all the noble thoughts that God put into his heart; he wrote down in strains of music that were sung and played in all parts of the world, and that charmed everybody who heard them.

Carl was famous. But men declared that he had never seen the Nix, or played upon the golden harp, but had dreamed the whole story when he was in a half-conscious state on the bank, after he had managed to crawl out of the river by the help of the reeds. This narrow escape from death, they said, had given a more serious turn to his mind, and from thenceforth he had given up boyish frolics, and his thoughts had naturally turned to music—the art he best loved.

But Carl, himself, always believed that the Nix had bestowed upon him the wonderful gift of melody he possessed.

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