FOOTNOTES

‘Keeper of wealth in the forest of pine,Hundreds of years are surely thine:Thine is the tall pine’s dwelling-place—Those born on Sunday see thy face.’

The Little Glass Man appeared, not looking friendly and kindly as formerly, but gloomy and sad; he wore a little coat of black glass, and a long glass crape hung floating from his hat, and Peter well knew for whom he mourned.

‘What do you want with me, Peter Munk?’ asked he with a stern voice.

‘I have one more wish, Mr. Schatzhauser,’ replied Peter, with his eyes cast down.

‘Can hearts of stone still wish?’ said the former. ‘You have all your corrupt mind can need, and I could scarcely fulfil your wish.’

‘But you have promised to grant me three wishes, and one I have still left.’

‘I can refuse it if it is foolish,’ continued the spirit; ‘but come, let me hear what you wish.’

‘Well, take the dead stone out of me, and give me a living heart,’ said Peter.

‘Have I made the bargain about the heart with you?’ asked the Little Glass Man. ‘Am I the Dutch Michel, who gives wealth and cold hearts? It is of him you must seek to regain your heart.’

‘Alas! he will never give it back,’ said Peter.

‘Bad as you are, yet I feel pity for you,’ continued the little man, after some consideration; ‘and as your wish is not foolish, I cannot at least refuse my help. Hear then. You can never recover your heart by force, only by stratagem, but probably you will find it without difficulty; for Michel will ever be stupid Michel, although he fancies himself very shrewd. Go straightway to him, and do as I tell you.’ He now instructedPeter fully, and gave him a small cross of pure glass, saying, ‘He cannot touch your life and will let you go when you hold this before him and repeat a prayer. When you have obtained your wish return to me.’

Peter took the cross, impressed all the words on his memory, and started on his way to the Dutchman Michel’s residence; there he called his name three times and immediately the giant stood before him.

‘You have slain your wife?’ he asked, with a grim laugh. ‘I should have done the same; she wasted your property on beggars; but you will be obliged to leave the country for some time; and I suppose you want money and have come to get it?’

‘You have hit it,’ replied Peter; ‘and pray let it be a large sum, for it is a long way to America.’

Michel leading the way, they went into his cottage; there he opened a chest containing much money and took out whole rolls of gold. While he was counting it on the table Peter said, ‘You’re a wag, Michel. You have told me a fib, saying that I had a stone in my breast, and that you had my heart.’

‘And is it not so then?’ asked Michel, astonished. ‘Do you feel your heart? Is it not cold as ice? Have you any fear or sorrow? Do you repent of anything?’

‘You have only made my heart to cease beating, but I still have it in my breast, and so has Hezekiel, who told me you had deceived us both. You are not the man who, unperceived and without danger, could tear the heart from the breast; it would require witchcraft on your part.’

‘But I assure you,’ cried Michel angrily, ‘you and Hezekiel and all the rich people, who have sold themselves to me, have hearts as cold as yours, and their real hearts I have here in my chamber.’

‘Ah! how glibly you can tell lies,’ said Peter, laughing; ‘you must tell that to another to be believed; think you I have not seen such tricks by dozens in my journeys? Your hearts in the chamber are made of wax; you’re a rich fellow I grant, but you are no magician.’

Now the giant was enraged and burst open the chamber door, saying, ‘Come in and read all the labels, and look yonder is Peter Munk’s heart; do you see how it writhes? Can that too be of wax?’

‘For all that, it is of wax,’ replied Peter. ‘A genuine heart does not writhe like that. I have mine still in my breast. No! you are no magician.’

‘But I will prove it to you,’ cried the former angrily. ‘You shall feel that it is your heart.’ He took it, opened Peter’s waistcoat, took the stone from his breast, andheld it up. Then taking the heart, he breathed on it, and set it carefully in its proper place, and immediately Peter felt how it beat, and could rejoice again. ‘How do you feel now?’ asked Michel, smiling.

‘True enough, you were right,’ replied Peter, taking carefully the little cross from his pocket. ‘I should never have believed such things could be done.’

‘You see I know something of witchcraft, do I not? But, come, I will now replace the stone again.’

‘Gently, Herr Michel,’ cried Peter, stepping backwards, and holding up the cross, ‘mice are caught with bacon, and this time you have been deceived,’ and immediately he began to repeat the prayers that came into his mind.

Now Michel became less and less, fell to the ground, and writhed like a worm, groaning and moaning, and all the hearts round began to beat, and became convulsed, so that it sounded like a clock-maker’s workshop.

Peter was terrified, his mind was quite disturbed; he ran from the house, and, urged by the anguish of the moment, climbed up a steep rock, for he heard Michel get up, stamping and raving, and denouncing curses on him. When he reached the top, he ran towards the Tannenbühl; a dreadful thunderstorm came on; lightning flashed around him, splitting the trees, but hereached the precincts of the Little Glass Man in safety.

His heart beat joyfully—only because itdidbeat; but now he looked back with horror on his past life, as he did on the thunderstorm that was destroying the beautiful forest on his right and left. He thought of his wife, a beautiful, good woman, whom he had murdered from avarice; he appeared to himself an outcast from mankind, and wept bitterly as he reached the hill of the Little Glass Man.

The Schatzhauser was sitting under a pine-tree, and was smoking a small pipe; but he looked more serene than before.

‘Why do you weep, Peter?’ asked he; ‘have you not recovered your heart? Is the cold one still in your breast?’

‘Alas! sir,’ sighed Peter, ‘when I still carried about with me the cold stony heart, I never wept, my eyes were as dry as the ground in July; but now my old heart will almost break with what I have done. I have driven my debtors to misery, set the dogs on the sick and poor, and you yourself know how my whip fell uponherbeautiful forehead.’

‘Peter, you were a great sinner,’ said the little man. ‘Money and idleness corrupted you, until your heart turned to stone, and no longer knew joy, sorrow, repentance, or compassion. But repentance reconciles;and if I only knew that you were truly sorry for your past life, it might yet be in my power to do something for you.’

‘I wish nothing more,’ replied Peter, dropping his head sorrowfully. ‘It is all over with me, I can no more rejoice in my lifetime; what shall I do thus alone in the world? My mother will never pardon me for what I have done to her, and I have perhaps brought her to the grave, monster that I am! Elizabeth, my wife, too,—rather strike me dead, Herr Schatzhauser, then my wretched life will end at once.’

‘Well,’ replied the little man, ‘if you wish nothing else, you can have it, so my axe is at hand.’ He quietly took his pipe from his mouth, knocked the ashes out, and put it into his pocket. Then rising slowly, he went behind the pines. But Peter sat down weeping in the grass; his life had no longer any value for him, and he patiently awaited the deadly blow. After a short time he heard gentle steps behind him, and thought, ‘Now he is coming.’

‘Look up once more, Peter Munk,’ cried the little man. He wiped the tears from his eyes and looked up, and beheld his mother, and Elizabeth his wife, who kindly gazed on him. Then he jumped up joyfully, saying, ‘You are not dead, then, Elizabeth, nor you, mother; and have you forgiven me?’

‘They will forgive you,’ said the LittleGlass Man, ‘because you feel true repentance, and all shall be forgotten. Go home now, to your father’s hut, and be a charcoal-burner as before; if you are active and honest, you will do credit to your trade, and your neighbours will love and esteem you more than if you possessed ten tons of gold.’ Thus saying, the Little Glass Man left them. The three praised and blessed him, and went home.

The splendid house of wealthy Peter stood no longer; it was struck by lightning, and burnt to the ground, with all its treasures. But they were not far from his father’s hut, and thither they went, without caring much for their great loss. But what was their surprise when they reached the hut; it was changed into a handsome farmhouse, and all in it was simple, but good and cleanly.

‘This is the Little Glass Man’s doing,’ cried Peter.

‘How beautiful!’ said Frau Elizabeth; ‘and here I feel more at home than in the larger house, with many servants.’

Henceforth Peter Munk became an industrious and honest man. He was content with what he had, carried on his trade cheerfully, and thus it was that he became wealthy by his own energy, and respected and beloved in the whole forest. He no longer quarrelled with his wife, he honoured his mother, and relieved the poor who cameto his door. When, after twelve months, Frau Elizabeth presented him with a beautiful little boy, Peter went to the Tannenbühl, and repeated the verse as before. But the Little Glass Man did not show himself.

‘Mr. Schatzhauser,’ he cried loudly, ‘only listen to me. I wish nothing but to ask you to stand godfather to my little son.’ But he received no answer, and only a short gust of wind rushed through the pines, and cast a few cones on the grass.

‘Then I will take these as a remembrance, as you will not show yourself,’ cried Peter, and he put them in his pocket, and returned home. But when he took off his jacket, and his mother turned out the pockets before putting it away, four large rolls of money fell out; and when they opened them, they found them all good and new Baden dollars, and not one counterfeit, and these were the intended godfather’s gift for little Peter, from the little man in the Tannenbühl. Thus they lived on, quietly and cheerfully; and many a time Peter Munk, when gray-headed, would say, ‘It is indeed better to be content with little, than to have wealth and a cold heart.’

C. A. F.

FOOTNOTES[1]The Black Forest.[2]A great festival in German villages, which comes in October or November.

[1]The Black Forest.

[2]A great festival in German villages, which comes in October or November.

This story is from the collection calledThe Caravan, and is told by the traveller Selim.

TheCaliph Chasid of Bagdad was sitting one fine summer afternoon comfortably on his divan; he had slept a little, for it was a sultry day, and he looked quite refreshed after his nap. He smoked a long rosewood pipe, sipped now and then a little coffee which a slave poured out for him, and stroked his beard contentedly whenever he had enjoyed it. In short, it could be seen at a glance that the Caliph felt very comfortable. At such a time it was easy to approach him, as he was very good-tempered and affable, wherefore his Grand Vizier Mansor visited him every day about this time. This afternoon he came as usual, looking, however, very grave, a rare thing for him. The Caliph took the pipe out of his mouth andsaid: ‘Why dost thou make so grave a face, Grand Vizier?’ The Grand Vizier folded his arms across his breast, bowed to his master and answered: ‘Master! whether I assume a grave appearance I know not, but down below in the palace stands a pedlar who has such fine wares that it vexes me that I have no money to spare.’

The Caliph, who had long desired to rejoice the heart of his Grand Vizier, ordered his black slave to fetch the pedlar. In a few moments the slave returned with him. He was a stout little man, swarthy in the face, and dressed in rags. He carried a box in which he had all sorts of wares, pearls, and rings, pistols with richly inlaid stocks, goblets, and combs. The Caliph and his Vizier inspected everything, and the Caliph at last bought for himself and Vizier a pair of pistols, and for the Vizier’s wife a comb. As the pedlar was about to close his box again, the Caliph caught sight of a little drawer, and asked whether it also contained some wares. The pedlar pulled out the drawer, and exhibited a snuff-box containing a black powder and a piece of paper with peculiar writing on it, which neither the Caliph nor Mansor could read. ‘These things were given to me one day by a merchant who found them in the streets of Mecca,’ said the pedlar. ‘I know not what they are; but you may have them for a small sum, for theyare of no use to me.’ The Caliph, who was very fond of having old manuscripts in his library, though unable to read them, bought both paper and box and dismissed the pedlar. Still he thought he would like to know what the writing meant, and asked the Vizier if he did not know anybody who might decipher it. ‘Most gracious lord and master,’ answered the latter, ‘near the Great Mosque lives a man called Selim the learned; he knows all languages. Send for him; perhaps he can explain these mysterious signs.’

The learned Selim soon arrived. ‘Selim,’ said the Caliph to him, ‘Selim, it is said thou art very learned. Just look at this writing whether thou canst read it; if thou canst read it, thou gettest a new robe of honour from me; if thou canst not, thou gettest twelve boxes on the ears and twenty-five lashes on the soles of thy feet, for having been called Selim the learned without cause.’ Selim bowed and said: ‘Thy will be done, O Master!’ For a long time he looked at the writing; suddenly, however, he exclaimed: ‘That is Latin, O Master, or let me be hung!’ ‘Say what it means,’ demanded the Caliph, ‘if it is Latin.’

Selim began to translate: ‘Man who findeth this, praise Allah for his goodness. He who takes a pinch of this powder in this box and therewith says “Mutabor,” canchange himself into any animal, and also understand the language of animals. If he afterwards wish to resume his human form, let him bow thrice to the East and say the same word. But beware when thou art changed that thou laughest not, or the magic word will depart from thy memory for ever, and thou remainest a beast.’

When Selim the learned had read this, the Caliph was pleased beyond measure. He made the learned man swear not to reveal the secret to any one, presented him with a splendid robe, and dismissed him. Then turning to his Grand Vizier he said: ‘This I call making a bargain, Mansor! How glad I am at being able to become an animal! Come to me to-morrow morning. We will then go together into the fields, take a pinch out of the box, and then listen to what is said in the air and the water, in wood and field.’

Next morning, scarcely had the Caliph Chasid breakfasted and dressed himself, when the Grand Vizier appeared as ordered, to accompany him on his walk. The Caliph put the box with the magic powder in his girdle, and having ordered his suite to remain behind, he and the Grand Vizier set out alone on the journey. They first passed through the large gardens of the Caliph, but looked in vain for any living thing on which to try the experiment. TheVizier at last proposed to pursue their journey to a pond, where he had often seen many animals, especially storks, whose grave manners and clappings had always excited his attention.

The Caliph approved of the Vizier’s proposal, and went with him towards the pond. Having arrived there, they saw a stork soberly pacing up and down looking for frogs, and chattering something now and then to itself. At the same moment they saw far up in the sky another stork hovering in this direction.

‘I wager my beard, most gracious Master,’ said the Grand Vizier, ‘this long-legged pair are now having a pleasant talk. How would it be if we turned into storks?’

‘Wisely spoken,’ replied the Caliph. ‘But first, let us consider how we may become men again. It is easy enough! If we bow thrice to the East, and say Mutabor, I shall be Caliph and thou Vizier. But for heaven’s sake no laughing, or we are lost.’

While the Caliph spoke thus, he saw the other stork hovering over their heads, and slowly alighting on the ground. Quickly he snatched the box from his girdle, took a hearty pinch, gave the box to the Grand Vizier, who did the like, and both exclaimed ‘Mutabor!’

Then their legs shrivelled and becamethin and red, the beautiful yellow slippers of the Caliph and those of his Vizier changed into ugly storks’ feet, their arms grew into wings, their necks shot up from their shoulders and reached a yard in length, their beards vanished, and soft feathers covered their bodies.

‘You have a pretty beak, Mr. Grand Vizier,’ said the Caliph after a surprised silence. ‘By the beard of the Prophet, I have never seen such things in my life!’ ‘Thanks humbly,’ replied the Vizier, bowing; ‘but if I might dare say so, I should avow that your Highness looks almost handsomer as a stork than a Caliph. But come, if it pleases you, let us listen to our comrades yonder and hear if we really speak storkish.’

Meanwhile the other stork had reached the ground. It cleaned its feet with its beak, settled its feathers, and walked up to the first stork. The two new storks hastened to get near them, and to their surprise heard the following conversation: ‘Good morning, Madam Longlegs! You are early on the meadows.’ ‘Thank you, dear Clapper-beak! I have been to get a little breakfast. Would you like to have a quarter of a lizard or a little leg of a frog?’ ‘Much obliged; but I have no appetite this morning. Besides, I have come upon quite a different errand on the meadow. I am to dance before myfather’s guests to-day, and I want to practise a little quietly.’

Thereupon the young stork began to caper about the field in peculiar movements. The Caliph and Mansor watched her, very much surprised. But when she stood on one leg in a picturesque attitude, and fluttered her wings to increase the effect, neither of them could resist; laughter without stopping burst from their beaks, from which they only recovered a long time afterwards. The Caliph was the first to recover self-possession: ‘That was a joke,’ he exclaimed, ‘which cannot be bought for gold. What a pity the stupid animals should have been scared by our laughter, else they would also have sung, to be sure!’

But now it occurred to the Grand Vizier that laughing during the enchantment was forbidden. He therefore communicated his fears to the Caliph. ‘By Mecca and Medina, that would be a bad joke if I were to remain a stork! Do bethink thee of the stupid word; I cannot recall it.’

‘Three times we must bow to the East and say: Mu—Mu—Mu.’

They turned towards the East and kept on bowing continually till their beaks nearly touched the ground. But, alas! the magic word had escaped them, and often as the Caliph bowed, and eagerly as his Vizier added Mu—Mu—, yet every recollection ofit had gone, and the poor Chasid and his Vizier were storks, and remained so.

Sadly the enchanted ones wandered through the fields, not knowing what to do in their misery. They could not discard their stork-plumage, nor could they return into the town and make themselves known, for who would have believed that a stork was the Caliph? and even if one had believed it, would the inhabitants of Bagdad accept a stork for a Caliph?

Thus they wandered about for several days, living miserably on the fruits of the field, which they could not swallow very well on account of their long beaks. As for lizards and frogs, their stomachs could not relish such food; besides, they were afraid of spoiling their appetite with such tit-bits. Their only pleasure in their sad situation was that they could fly, and thus they flew often to the high roofs of Bagdad to see what was going on in the town.

During the first days they remarked great uneasiness and grief in the streets. But on the fourth day of their enchantment, while sitting on the roof of the Caliph’s palace, they saw down in the street below a splendid array. The drums and fifes played; a man dressed in a gold-embroidered scarlet mantle rode a richly-caparisoned horse, surrounded by a gaudy train of servants. Half Bagdad rushed about him, and everybodyshouted: ‘Hail, Mizra! the ruler of Bagdad!’

Then the two storks upon the roof of the palace looked at each other, and the Caliph Chasid said: ‘Dost thou guess now why I am enchanted, Grand Vizier? This Mizra is the son of my mortal enemy, the mighty Magician Kaschnur, who in an evil hour swore revenge on me. But still I do not despair. Come with me, thou faithful companion of my misery; we will betake ourselves to the grave of the Prophet; perhaps at that sacred shrine the magic may be dispelled.’

They rose from the roof of the palace and flew towards Medina.

They did not succeed very well in flying, for as yet they had had very little practice. ‘O Master!’ sighed the Grand Vizier after a couple of hours’ flight, ‘with your leave I can hold out no longer, you fly too swiftly for me! Besides, it is dark already, and we should do well to seek shelter for the night.’

Chasid listened to the request of his servant; and seeing beneath them in the valley some ruins which promised a lodging, they flew towards it. The place where they had settled for the night seemed formerly to have been a castle. Splendid pillars rose from among the ruins; several chambers which were still tolerably preserved testifiedto the bygone splendour of the building. Chasid and his companion strolled through the passages in search of some dry nook, when suddenly the stork Mansor stopped. ‘Lord and Master,’ he whispered below his breath, ‘is it not foolish for a Grand Vizier, and still more so for a stork to fear ghosts? Still, I feel very uneasy, for close by some one sighed and groaned quite distinctly.’ The Caliph now also stopped, and heard quite plainly a low sob, which seemed rather to come from a man than an animal. Full of anxiety, he wanted to go towards the spot whence proceeded the sound of sorrow; but the Vizier seized him by the wing with his beak and begged him not to rush upon new and unknown perils. But all was of no avail. The Caliph, who bore a brave heart beneath his stork plumage, tore himself away with the loss of some feathers, and ran towards a gloomy passage. Soon he came to a door which was ajar, and behind which he heard distinct sighs and moans. He pushed open the door with his beak, but stopped on the threshold in astonishment. In the ruined chamber, which was only dimly lighted by a little iron-barred window, he saw a great night-owl sitting on the ground. Heavy tears rolled out of its large round eyes, and with a hoarse voice it uttered its moans from its hooked beak. But when it saw the Caliphand his Vizier, who had come up in the meantime, it gave a loud cry of joy. Elegantly it wiped the tears from its eye with its brown-flecked wings, and to the great amazement of both, it cried in good human Arabic: ‘Welcome, ye storks; you are a good omen to me of my deliverance, for through storks I am to be lucky, as it was once foretold me.’

When the Caliph had recovered from his astonishment, he bowed with his long neck, set his thin legs in a graceful position, and said: ‘Night-owl! from thy words I believe that I see a fellow-sufferer. But alas! thy hope of deliverance through us is in vain. Thou wilt recognise our helplessness in hearing our tale.’ The night-owl begged him to relate it, and the Caliph commenced to relate what we already know.

When the Caliph had related his story to the owl she thanked him, and said: ‘Now also listen to my tale, and learn how I am no less unlucky than you are yourself. My father is the king of the Indies; I, his only unhappy daughter, am called Lusa. That Magician Kaschnur, who has enchanted you, has also brought misfortune upon me. One day he came to my father and asked me in marriage for his son Mizra. But my father, who is a fiery man, had him thrown downstairs. The wretch knew how to approach me again under another shape,and one day, while I was taking some refreshments in my garden, he administered to me, disguised as a slave, a draught, which changed me into this hideous shape. Fainting from fear, he brought me hither and shouted with a terrible voice into my ear: “Here shalt thou remain, detestable, abhorred even by beast, to thy end, or till one of free will, himself in this horrid form, asks thee to be his wife. And thus I revenge myself on thee and on thy haughty father.”

‘Since then many months have passed. Lonely and sadly I live as a recluse within these ruins, shunned by the world, a scarecrow even to beasts: beautiful nature is hidden from me, for I am blind by daylight, and only when the moon pours her wan light over these ruins does the obscuring veil drop from my eyes.’

When the owl had finished she again wiped her eyes with her wings, for the story of her woes had moved her to tears.

The Caliph, by the story of the Princess, was plunged into deep thought. ‘If I am not mistaken,’ said he, ‘there is between our misfortunes a secret connection; but where can I find the key to this riddle?’ The owl answered him: ‘O Master! such is also my belief; for once in my infancy a wise woman foretold that a stork should bring me a great fortune, and I know oneway by which perhaps we may free ourselves.’ The Caliph was very much surprised, and asked what way she meant. ‘The enchanter who has made us both unhappy,’ said she, ‘comes once every month to these ruins. Not far from here is a hall where he holds orgies with numerous companions. Often have I spied them there. They then relate to one another their vile deeds. Perhaps he may pronounce the magic word which you have forgotten.’ ‘O dearest Princess,’ exclaimed the Caliph, ‘say when comes he, and where is the hall?’

The owl was silent a moment, and then said: ‘You must not take it ill, but only on one condition can I fulfil your wish.’ ‘Speak out, speak out,’ cried Chasid. ‘Command all, everything of me.’

‘It is this, that I may also become free, which can only be if one of you offer me his hand.’

The stork seemed somewhat taken aback at this proposition, and the Caliph beckoned to his servant to go out with him a little.

‘Grand Vizier,’ said the Caliph outside, ‘this is a sorry bargain, but you might take her.’ ‘Indeed!’ answered the Grand Vizier; ‘that my wife when I come home may scratch out my eyes? Besides, I am an old man, while you are still young andsingle, and could better give your hand to a young and fair Princess.’

‘That is just it,’ sighed the Caliph, whilst sadly drooping his wings. ‘Who then has told thee that she is young and fair? It is buying a pig in a poke.’

They consulted one with the other for a long time. At last when the Caliph saw that his Vizier would rather remain a stork than wed the owl, he resolved to fulfil the condition himself. The owl was immensely pleased. She confessed to them that they could not have come at a more favourable time, for the enchanters were very likely to assemble that night.

She quitted the chamber with the storks to lead them to the hall. They went a long way through a gloomy passage; at length, through a half-fallen wall, gleamed a bright light. Having arrived there, the owl advised them to remain perfectly quiet. They could, through the gap near which they stood, overlook a great hall. It was supported all round by pillars, and splendidly decked. Many brilliant coloured lamps replaced the light of day. In the centre of the hall was a round table, covered with many and choice meats. Round this table was a couch, on which sat eight men. In one of these men the stork recognised the pedlar who had sold them the magic powder. His neighbour asked him to relate his latestdeeds. Amongst others he also related the story of the Caliph and his Vizier.

‘What sort of word hast thou given them?’ asked another enchanter. ‘A very difficult Latin one, namely, “Mutabor.”’

When the storks heard this at their hole in the wall they were nearly beside themselves with joy. They ran on their long legs so quickly to the threshold of the ruins that the owl could hardly follow them. There the Caliph addressed the owl with emotion: ‘Deliverer of my life and of the life of my friend, accept me in eternal gratitude for thy spouse for that which thou hast done for us.’ He then turned to the East. Thrice the storks bowed their long necks to the sun, which just then was rising behind the mountains. ‘Mutabor!’ they exclaimed; and straightway they were changed, and in the great joy of their new-sent life master and servant fell into each other’s arms laughing and crying. But who can describe their astonishment on turning round? A lovely lady, grandly dressed, stood before them. Smiling, she gave her hand to the Caliph. ‘Do you no longer recognise your night-owl?’ she said. It was she. The Caliph was so charmed with her beauty and grace that he exclaimed: ‘My greatest fortune was that of having been a stork.’

The three now travelled together towards Bagdad. The Caliph found in his clothesnot only the box with the magic powder, but also his purse. He therefore bought in the nearest village what was needful for their journey, and so they soon came to the gates of Bagdad. There the arrival of the Caliph caused much surprise. People had believed him dead, and they therefore were highly pleased to have again their beloved ruler.

All the more, however, burned their hatred towards the impostor Mizra. They entered the palace, and took prisoner the old enchanter and his son. The Caliph sent the old man to the same chamber in the ruins that the Princess had lived in when an owl, and had him hanged there. To the son, who knew nothing of his father’s art, the Caliph gave the choice whether he would die or take snuff. And when he chose the latter, the Grand Vizier handed him the box. A good strong pinch and the magic word of the Caliph changed him into a stork. The Caliph had him shut up in an iron cage and placed in his garden.

Long and happy lived the Caliph Chasid with his wife the Princess. His most pleasant hours were always those when the Grand Vizier visited him during the afternoon, when they very frequently spoke of their stork adventures, and when the Caliph was very jovial he amused himself with imitating the Grand Vizier when he was a stork. Hestrutted up and down the chamber with stiff legs, clapped, fluttered his arms as though they were wings, and showed how vainly the latter had turned to the East crying all the while Mu—Mu. This entertainment was at all times a great pleasure to Madam Caliph and her children; but when the Caliph kept on clapping a little too long, and nodded, and cried Mu—Mu, then the Vizier threatened him, smiling, that he would communicate to Madam Caliph what had been discussed outside the door of the Night Owl Princess.

This story is from the same collection, and is told by Muley, a merry young merchant.

Therelived at Nicea, my dear native town, a man named Little Muck. I can still remember him very well, although I was very young then, especially as I once received from my father a sound thrashing for his sake. Little Muck was already an old man when I knew him, and only three or four feet high. He presented a most extraordinary appearance, and although his body was stunted and thin, yet he had a head which was much larger and thicker than that of other people. He lived quite alone in a large house, and acted as his own cook; people, moreover, in the town would never have known whether he was alive or dead, for he only went out once a month, were it not that at mid-day a powerful steam arosefrom his house; but he was often seen during the evening walking up and down his roof, and people in the street thought that his immense head only promenaded on the roof. My playmates and myself were wicked youngsters, always ready enough to mock people and laugh at them, and whenever Little Muck came out it was a holiday for us. On the day he went out we met before his house, waiting for his appearance. When the door opened, and his immense head, together with a much larger turban, peeped out, followed by his little body, dressed in a shabby little cloak, wide trousers, and a broad girdle, to which was attached a long dagger of such an immense size that people did not know whether Muck was fastened to the dagger or the dagger to him—when he came out, the air resounded with our loud cries of joy; we threw up our caps into the air and danced like maniacs round about him. Little Muck, nevertheless, bowed to us with a grave and dignified air, and marched down the street with slow steps, dragging his feet as he walked, for he wore such large and broad slippers as I had never seen before.

We boys ran after him always shouting: ‘Little Muck! Little Muck!’ We had also made a little rhyme about him which we sang in honour of him now and then, namely:

‘Little Muck, Little Muck,What an awful fright you look!In a big house you reside,Only once a month outside.You are a plucky dwarf, but stillYour head is almost like a hill;Do but just turn round and look,Run and catch us, Little Muck!’

We had often played this joke, and I must confess to my shame mine was the worst. I often pulled him by his cloak, and once I planted my foot on the end of his great slippers from behind, so that he fell down. This at first caused me great delight, but I soon ceased to laugh when I saw Little Muck go towards my father’s house. He really entered it, and remained in it for some time. I secreted myself behind the door and saw Little Muck come out again, accompanied by my father, who held him respectfully by the hand, and took leave of him at the door, after many bows. I felt very uneasy, and remained for a long time in my hiding-place; but at length hunger, which I dreaded still more than the thrashing, forced me to come out, and, shame-faced and with bent head, I presented myself before my father. ‘I hear you have insulted the good Muck?’ he said in a very stern voice. ‘I want to tell you the history of this Muck, and I am certain you will never mock him again; in any case, however, before or after, you will get your punishment.’ This punishmentmeant twenty-five strokes, which he counted with only too great an exactness. He took his long pipe, screwed off the amber mouth-piece, and acquitted himself more vigorously of the task than he had ever done before.

From a wash drawing by James Pryde“I hear you have insulted the good Muck” he said in a very stern voice(page 102)

From a wash drawing by James Pryde

“I hear you have insulted the good Muck” he said in a very stern voice(page 102)

After having received the five-and-twenty strokes, my father ordered me to pay attention, and related to me the story of Little Muck.

The father of Little Muck, whose real name was Mukrah, was a distinguished but poor man here in Nicea. He, too, lived in almost as solitary a manner as his son does at present. Unfortunately, he did not like him, because his dwarfed stature made him ashamed of the boy, and consequently he had him brought up in ignorance. Little Muck, when in his sixteenth year, was still a frolicsome child; and his father, a stern man, continually reproached him with still being so childish, and also on account of his ignorance and stupidity.

The old man, however, had a bad fall one day, in consequence of which he died, leaving behind little Muck, poor and ignorant. His harsh relatives, to whom the deceased owed more than he was able to pay, turned the poor little fellow out of the house, and advised him to go abroad to seek his fortune. Little Muck said that he was already prepared for the journey; and only asked to beallowed to take his father’s clothes with him, to which they agreed. His father had been a tall, powerful man, and therefore his clothes did not fit him. Muck, however, soon devised an expedient; he cut off all that was superfluous with respect to length, and then donned the garments. He seemed, however, to have forgotten the curtailing of them in their amplitude, hence his whimsical attire, which he wears to this day; the large turban, the broad girdle, the wide trousers, the little blue cloak, all these are heirlooms of his father, which he has always worn; his father’s long Damascus dagger he planted in his girdle, and with a little staff in his hand, he set out on his journey.

Joyfully he walked along all day, for he had set out to seek his fortune. If he saw a bit of broken glass on the road glittering in the sunshine, he would put it into his pocket, really believing it would turn into the most beautiful diamond. If he saw in the distance the glittering cupolas of a mosque, or the sea smooth as glass, he would hasten towards it joyously, thinking he had arrived in some enchanted country. But alas! These phantoms disappeared as he approached them, and only too soon did his fatigue and the complaints of his hungry stomach remind him that he was still in the land of mortals.

Thus he had travelled for two days,hungry, weary, and in despair, endeavouring to seek his fortune; the fruits of the field were his only food, the hard earth his couch. On the morning of the third day he perceived from the top of a hill a large town. The Crescent glittered upon the cupolas, coloured banners floated upon the roofs, seeming to beckon Little Muck to come to them. He stood still a moment quite surprised, looking upon the town and its environs. ‘Yes, that is the place where Little Muck will make his fortune,’ he said to himself; and notwithstanding his weariness he stepped forward, ‘there or nowhere.’ He summoned up all his strength and strode towards the city. But although it appeared so close, he did not reach it till mid-day, for his little legs almost entirely refused their office, so that he was obliged to sit down frequently under the shade of a palm-tree to take rest. At length he reached his destination. He arranged his little cloak, improved the position of his turban, broadened his girdle still more, and planted his long dagger in a still more oblique position; he then wiped the dust from his shoes, armed himself with his little staff, and bravely entered the city.

He had already strolled through many streets, but nowhere a door opened to him, nowhere people called out to him as he had imagined: ‘Little Muck,come in, eat and drink, and rest your tiny legs.’

He was again looking up very longingly before a large and beautiful house, when a window opened, an old woman looked out of it, and exclaimed in a singing voice:

‘Come on, come on,The broth is done;Laid is the cloth,Enjoy the broth;Neighbours come,The broth is done.’

The door of the house opened, and Muck saw many dogs and cats go into the house. He remained for some moments in a state of uncertainty, as to whether he should respond to the invitation; at length, however, he summoned up sufficient courage and entered the house. Before him trotted a pair of young cats. He determined to follow them, because they might know the way to the kitchen better than he.

When Muck had reached the top of the stairs, he met the old woman who had looked out of the window. She looked at him sulkily, and demanded of him what he wanted. ‘I have heard you inviting everybody to your feast,’ answered little Muck, ‘and as I am terribly hungry I have come as well.’ The old woman laughed and said: ‘Where do you come from, you strange creature? The whole town knowsthat I cook for nobody except my dear cats, and now and again I invite company from the neighbourhood for them, as you see.’ Little Muck related to the old woman how badly he had fared after his father’s death, and entreated her to allow him to feast this day with her cats. The woman, who seemed pleased at the unaffected story of the little man, allowed him to be her guest, and gave him plenty to eat and drink. After having regaled himself, the woman looked at him for a long time and then said: ‘Little Muck, remain in my service, you will have little to do and plenty to eat.’ Little Muck, who seemed to have enjoyed the cats’ broth, agreed, and thus became Madam Ahavzi’s servant. His work was light but strange. Lady Ahavzi owned two cats and four kittens. Little Muck had to brush their fur and anoint them with precious ointment every morning; if their mistress was absent, he had to take care of them; at their meals he had to wait upon them, and at night put them upon silk cushions and wrap them up in velvet coverlets.

There were besides some little dogs in the house which he also had to wait upon, but not so much attention was bestowed upon these as upon the cats, who were treated like Lady Ahavzi’s own children. Altogether, Muck now lived almost assolitarily as when he was in his late father’s house; for, with the exception of his mistress, he only saw, during the whole day, cats and dogs. For a short time little Muck fared very well, he had always plenty to eat and little to do, and the old woman seemed to be quite satisfied with him; but by degrees the cats became troublesome; whenever the old lady was out they bounded about the room like mad, setting everything pell-mell, and breaking many valuable vases which stood in their way. But when they heard their mistress coming up the stairs they crept up to their cushions, wagging their little tails to welcome her as if nothing had occurred. Lady Ahavzi then became angry on seeing her rooms in such a disordered state, blaming Muck for it; and however much he might protest his innocence, she had more confidence in her cats, which looked so innocent, than in her own servant.

Little Muck was very sad that he had not found his fortune here, and resolved to quit the service of Madam Ahavzi. But as he had discovered during his former travels how difficult it was to live without money, he determined to obtain his wages, which his mistress had always promised, but never given him, by some means or other. In the house of Madam Ahavzi was a chamber which was always locked, andthe interior of which he had never seen. He had, however, often heard the woman making a noise in it, and for the life of him he would have liked to know what she kept hidden there. While thinking of his money for travelling, it occurred to him that it was probably there that Madam Ahavzi kept her treasures. The door, however, was always firmly locked, and he was unable therefore to get near them.

One morning, after Madam Ahavzi had gone out, one of the little dogs which had always been treated by her very badly, whose favour, however, he had gained in a high degree by showing it many acts of kindness, pulled him by his full trousers, and made signs to him as if to induce Muck to follow him. Muck, who had always been fond of playing with the little dog, followed it, and behold, the little dog conducted him into the bedroom of Madam Ahavzi, and to a little door which he had never seen there before. The door was ajar. The little dog went in, Muck following it, and he was agreeably surprised to find himself in the room which had been so long the aim of his wishes. He spied in every corner to see if he could find any money, but all in vain. Only old clothes and strangely-shaped vases were lying about. One of these vases especially attracted his attention. It was of crystal, and beautiful figures were cut onit. He took it up and turned it about on all sides. But, oh terror! He had not noticed that it had a cover which was only lightly placed upon it. The cover dropped, and broke into a thousand pieces.

For a long time Little Muck stood there petrified with fear. His fate was now decided, and nothing remained for him but to run away, otherwise the old woman would kill him. He immediately determined upon going, but once more he looked round to see if he could make use of some of Lady Ahavzi’s property. His eyes fell on a mighty pair of slippers. They were not very pretty, but his own could not stand another journey. They also attracted his attention on account of their immense size, for if his feet were once in them, all must plainly see that he had discarded children’s boots. He quickly took off his little slippers, and put on the big ones. A pretty little staff with a lion’s head carved on its top seemed also to be standing idle in the corner, so taking possession of it, he hastened out of the room. He then went quickly to his room, donned his little cloak, put on his paternal turban, planted the dagger in his girdle, and ran as fast as his legs could carry him, out of the house and the gates of the town.

Outside the town he kept on running, being afraid of the old woman, until at last he was overcome by fatigue. Never in allhis life had he gone so fast, nay, it seemed to him as if he could go on continually, for some invisible power seemed to urge him on. He perceived at last that his slippers were under the influence of some charm, for they kept on stepping forward, and dragging him along. He tried by all sorts of means to stand still, but all in vain. At last, being in the greatest danger, he called out just as if he were guiding horses: ‘Ho! ho! halt ho!’ The slippers immediately pulled up, and Muck threw himself exhausted on the ground.

He was immensely pleased with the slippers. After all, he had acquired something by his work, which might assist him on his way in the world, to make his fortune. In spite of his joy he fell asleep from fatigue, for the little body of Mr. Muck, which had to carry such an enormous head, was not very strong. In a dream the little dog which had assisted him in obtaining the slippers in Madam Ahavzi’s house appeared to him and said: ‘Dear Muck, you do not seem properly to understand the use of the slippers: Learn, if you turn in them three times on your heel, you can fly wherever you like, and with the little cane you can discover treasures: for wherever there is gold buried it will strike the ground three times, and where silver lies twice.’

Thus dreamt Little Muck. When he wasawake he meditated upon the strange dream, and soon resolved to make a trial. He put on the slippers, lifted one foot in the air and turned himself about on the other. Whoever has tried the feat of turning round thrice successively in a slipper too large for him will not be astonished at hearing that Little Muck did not succeed very well in his first attempt, especially if one takes into consideration that his enormous head sometimes dragged him to the right and sometimes to the left.

The poor little fellow fell several times heavily on his nose; nevertheless he did not allow himself to be discouraged from repeating the experiment, and finally he succeeded. Like a wheel he turned round on his heel, wishing himself to be transported to the nearest large town, whereupon his slippers lifted him up into the air, fled through the clouds as if they had wings, and before he could recover his senses he found himself in a large market-place, where many booths were pitched, and where a number of people were busily running to and fro. He went about amongst the people, but found it advisable to go into a more quiet street, for in the market-place people put their feet upon his slippers, which nearly made him fall down; and further, his long dagger every now and then pushed against some one or other, so that he just escaped being beaten.

Little Muck now began seriously to think what he could do to earn some money. Though he had a little staff indicating to him hidden treasures, yet where could he discover a place, on the spur of the moment, where gold or silver was buried? He might have exhibited himself in case of necessity, but he was too proud for that. At length the quick movements of his limbs occurred to him. ‘Perhaps,’ he thought, ‘my slippers may support me,’ and he resolved to offer his services as courier, thinking it possible that the King of this town might remunerate him handsomely for such services, and he inquired after the palace. Near the gate of the palace stood a sentry, who asked him what he wanted. He said that he was looking for work, and was shown to the overseer of the slaves. He told the latter his request, and petitioned him to find him a place amongst the royal messengers. The overseer looked at him from head to foot, and said: ‘What! you, with your little limbs, which are scarcely a span in length, wish to become a royal messenger! Get away, I have no time for joking with a fool.’

Little Muck, however, assured him that he was quite in earnest with his offer, and that he would venture a wager to outstrip the swiftest runner. The affair seemed very ridiculous to the overseer. He orderedhim to be prepared for a race in the evening, took him into the kitchen, and took care that he was supplied with plenty to eat and drink. The overseer himself went to the King, and told him about this little man and his offer. The King, who was a pleasant master, approved of the overseer for having kept Little Muck for a joke. He ordered him to make preparations on a large meadow behind the palace in order that the race might be conveniently seen by his whole royal household, and finally told him to look well after the dwarf.

The King related to the Princes and Princesses what sort of an entertainment they would have in the evening. The latter told their servants of it, and as the evening approached, all were in eager expectation; they hastened towards the meadow, where scaffolds were erected, in order to see the boasting dwarf run.

After the King, his sons and his daughters had taken their seats, Little Muck appeared upon the meadow, saluting the assemblage with an extremely courteous bow. General shouts of joy resounded on the little man appearing; such a figure had never been seen there before. The little man’s body with its immense head, his little cloak and large trousers, the long dagger in the broad girdle, his little feet in his slippers: No! this was too funny a sightfor people not to laugh. Little Muck, however, did not allow himself to be abashed by the laughter. He proudly took his place, leaning on his little cane, and awaited his adversary. The overseer of the slaves had, at Muck’s request, selected the quickest runner. The latter now came forward, placing himself by the side of the little man, and both waited for the signal. Then the Princess Amarza, as had been arranged, nodded from under her veil, and like two arrows shot at the same target, the runners rushed forward over the meadow.

At first Muck’s adversary had a decided advantage, but the former on his slipper-conveyance chased him, overtook him, passed him, and reached the goal long before the other came along gasping for breath. The spectators were for some moments stupefied with admiration and astonishment, but when first the King applauded, then the whole multitude followed his example, and all shouted:

‘Long live Little Muck, the winner of the race!’

In the meantime Little Muck had been fetched. He prostrated himself before the King, and said: ‘All powerful King, this is merely a trifle of my art; and now condescend to assign me a place amongst your couriers.’ The King replied: ‘No, you shall be my private runner, and alwaysabout me. You shall have for your salary a hundred gold pieces annually, and you shall dine with my chief courtiers.’

Muck now at last thought he had found his fortune, which he had sought after for so long a time, and rejoiced inwardly. He also rejoiced at the special favour of the King, for the latter employed him for the quickest and most secret despatches, which Little Muck executed with the greatest exactitude, and with incomprehensible rapidity.

The other servants, however, were jealous of him, because they thought themselves lessened in the favour of their master, through a dwarf, who understood nothing else but running. Many conspiracies, therefore, were plotted against him in order to ruin him; but all failed, on account of the great confidence which the King placed in his chief private runner, for he had risen to this dignity in a short time.

Muck, who was not blind to these intrigues, did not think of avenging himself; he was too noble-hearted for that. No, he rather thought of some means by which he might make himself indispensable, and liked by his enemies. He then recollected his little staff, which he had forgotten in his fortunate circumstances; if he discovered treasures, he thought, then perhaps his companions might look upon him with a more favourable eye.

He had often been told that the father of the present King had buried a great part of his treasures at a time when the enemy invaded his country; it was also said that he had died since, without having been able to communicate his secret to his son. Henceforward Muck always took his little cane with him, hoping that some day he might pass the place where the money of the old King lay buried. One evening chance led him to a lonely spot in the King’s garden, a place which he little frequented, when suddenly he felt his little cane jerking in his hand, and striking the ground three times. He was already aware what this meant. He therefore drew his dagger, notched the trees surrounding the place, and returned to the castle: he now procured a spade, and waited until nightfall for his enterprise.

His searching for the treasures gave Little Muck more trouble than he had expected. His arms were very weak, his spade too large and heavy, and he worked for more than two hours before he had dug two feet in depth. At length he struck against something hard, which gave a metallic sound. He now dug away more vigorously, and soon succeeded in bringing to light a large iron lid; he himself got into the hole in order to discover what the lid might cover, and he really found a large urn filled withgold pieces. His feeble powers, however, were insufficient to lift the urn, and he therefore put into his trousers and girdle as much as he could carry; he stuffed his little cloak with as much as he could, and put it on his back, having concealed the rest very carefully. But, as a matter of fact, if he had not had his slippers on, he would not have been able to proceed, so heavily the gold weighed on him. Unobserved, he reached his room, and there concealed his gold underneath the cushions of his couch.

When Little Muck found himself the owner of so much gold he thought matters would now undergo a change, and that he would gain amongst his enemies at court many patrons and warm friends. Judging from this, it was but too obvious that Little Muck could not have received a very careful education, otherwise he would not have imagined that it was possible to gain real friends with gold. Alas! he had much better have greased his slippers then, and made his escape with his little cloak filled with gold as quickly as he could.

The gold which Little Muck now freely distributed excited the jealousy of the other courtiers. The chief cook Ahuli said: ‘He is a coiner.’ Achmet, the overseer of the slaves, said: ‘He has obtained it from the King by talking.’ Archaz, the treasurer, however, his bitterest enemy, who himselffrom time to time dipped into the King’s cash-box, said openly: ‘He has stolen it.’ Now in order to make quite sure of their affair, they plotted together, and the chief cup-bearer Korchuz presented himself one day very sad and downcast before the King. He dissimulated in such a way that the King asked him what was the matter with him. ‘Alas!’ he answered, ‘I am sad for having lost the grace of my master.’ ‘What are you raving about, friend Korchuz?’ said the King. ‘How long has the sunshine of my favour ceased to fall on you?’ The chief cup-bearer answered him that he had lavished so much gold on his private chief runner, and forgotten him, his poor and faithful servant, altogether.

The King was much astonished at this news, and caused little Muck’s distributions of gold to be related to him, and the conspirators easily made him suspect that Muck by some means or other had stolen the money from the treasury. The treasurer was very pleased at this turn of affairs, and besides, was reluctant to give an account of the state of his books. The King therefore ordered them to watch all the movements of Little Muck, in order to surprise him if possible in the act of stealing. When, therefore, during the night following this fatal day, Little Muck took the spade in order to go into the King’s gardento get a fresh supply from his secret treasure, because he had exhausted his store through his liberality, he was followed by the sentries, headed by the chief cook Ahuli and the treasurer Archaz; and just as he was about to put the gold into his little cloak they attacked him, bound him, and brought him immediately before the King. The latter, whose disturbed slumbers had not put him in a very good humour, received his poor chief private runner very ungraciously, and examined him immediately. The pot had been dug completely out of the ground, and with the spade, as well as the little cloak filled with gold, had been placed before the King. The treasurer alleged that he had surprised Muck with his sentinels at the moment when he had buried this pot of gold in the ground.

The King questioned the accused as to whether it was true, and where he had got the gold which he had buried. Little Muck assured him of his innocence, and said that he had discovered this pot in the garden, and that he was not going to bury it, but to dig it out.

All present laughed at this excuse; the King, however, greatly exasperated at the barefaced impudence of the little man, exclaimed: ‘You wretch! You dare to impose on your King in such a gross fashion, after having robbed him? Treasurer Archaz,I call upon you to say whether you recognise this sum of gold as the same which is missing from my treasury?’ The treasurer said he was quite sure that so much and still more had been missing for some time from the royal treasury, and that he was prepared to affirm it with an oath that this was the stolen money.

Thereupon the King ordered Little Muck to be put in heavy chains and taken to the tower; the gold he gave to the treasurer, in order to restore it to the treasury. Delighted at the fortunate result of the affair, he left, and counted the glittering gold pieces at home; but the bad man never announced that there had been at the bottom of the pot a piece of paper on which was written: ‘The enemy has inundated my country, therefore I bury here part of my treasures; whoever the finder may be is cursed by the King if he does not immediately deliver it up to my son. King Sadi.’

Little Muck made sad reflections in his prison; he knew that death was the punishment for stealing the King’s property, yet he did not intend to reveal the secret of the little staff to the King, fearing he should be deprived of it as well as of his slippers. His slippers could not assist him at all, for he was chained close to a wall, and could not, in spite of his endeavours, turn roundon his heel. When, however, on the next day he was informed that he had to die, he thought it best after all to live without the magic wand rather than die with it, so he requested the King for a private interview, and revealed to him the secret. The King at first had not much faith in his confession; but Little Muck promised a trial if the King assured him that he should not be killed. The King gave him his word for it, and, unknown to Muck, had some gold buried in the ground, and told him to find it with his little staff. In a few moments he had discovered it, for the little staff struck three times distinctly upon the ground. The King now recognised that his treasurer had deceived him, and sent him, as is customary in the East, a silk cord to hang himself with. But to Little Muck he said: ‘Although I have promised to spare your life, yet it seems to me you possess more than the secret of this little staff; therefore you shall pass the rest of your days in captivity, unless you reveal the means by which you run so swiftly.’

Little Muck, for whom one night in the tower had been sufficient to make him hate captivity, confessed that all his art lay in his slippers; but he did not tell the King the secret of turning three times on the heel. The King himself slipped into the slippers in order to make a trial, and rushed aboutlike a madman in his garden; he often wanted to stop, but he did not know how it was possible, and Little Muck, who could not help avenging himself a little, allowed him to run until he fell down fainting.

When the King had gained consciousness again, he was terribly angry with Little Muck for having let him run about breathless. ‘I have pledged my word to set you at liberty, and to spare your life. Quit my kingdom within twelve hours, else I will have you hung.’ The slippers and the little staff, however, were put into his treasury.

As poor as before, Little Muck left the country, cursing his folly which had deceived him in imagining that he might play a prominent part at Court. Fortunately, the country from which he was banished was not extensive, and after eight hours he reached the frontier, although he had some difficulty in walking, for he was accustomed to his dear slippers.

After he had crossed the frontier he struck out of the main path to find the most solitary spot of the forest, intending to live there only for himself, for he hated all mankind. In a dense forest he chanced upon a little place, which seemed quite suitable to him according to the plan which he had formed. A clear stream, surrounded by gigantic and shady fig-trees and a soft piece of turf, invited him to throw himself down, and it was herethat he intended to take no more nourishment, but to await death. Over these reflections of death he fell asleep; but on awaking, and when hunger tormented him, he came to the conclusion that after all to die of hunger was a terrible thing, and looked around to see if he could find anything to eat.

There were some delicious ripe figs on the tree under which he had slept, so he climbed up the tree to gather some, enjoyed them heartily, and then came down to quench his thirst in the brook. But how great was his terror when his reflection in the water showed him his head ornamented with two immense ears and a thick long nose. In dismay he seized his ears with his hands; indeed they were more than half a yard long.

‘I deserve donkey’s ears!’ he exclaimed, ‘for I have, like an ass, trampled upon my fortune.’ He wandered amongst the trees, and on feeling hungry again, he ate once more of the figs, for there was nothing else eatable on the trees. Whilst he was eating the second lot of figs it occurred to him that there might be room enough for his ears under his great turban, so as not to appear too ridiculous; but he felt that his ears had disappeared! He immediately returned to the brook, in order to make sure of it. And indeed it was true; his ears had assumed their former appearance, and also his longand unshapely nose had changed. He now perceived how all this had happened; it was owing to the figs from the first tree that he had got the long nose and ears; the second had healed him. Gladly he recognised that his good fortune had once again given him the means of being happy. He therefore gathered from each tree as much as he could carry, and returned to the country which he had recently quitted. In the first little town he entered he disguised himself, and without stopping went towards the city where the King resided, and soon arrived there.

It happened to be the season of the year when ripe fruits were scarce; Little Muck therefore sat down near the gate of the palace, for he remembered that in former times the chief cook bought such rarities for the royal table. Muck had only just sat down when he saw the chief cook coming across the court. He inspected the wares of the sellers who had collected near the gate of the palace; at last his attention was directed towards Muck’s little basket. ‘Ah! a rare bit,’ he said, ‘which His Majesty will certainly enjoy. How much do you want for the whole basketful?’ Little Muck asked a moderate price, and they were soon agreed over the bargain. The chief cook gave the basket to a slave and continued his way. Little Muck, however, ran away in the meantime, for he feared that if the horribledevelopments were to appear on the heads of those at Court, he being the seller might be sought out and punished.

The King was in high spirits during dinner, and complimented the chief cook over and over again on account of his excellent cooking, and care in always selecting the best for him. The chief cook, however, who was well aware what delicacy was yet to come, smiled significantly, and merely said, ‘The day is not over yet,’ or ‘All’s well that ends well,’ so that the Princesses became very curious what else was to come. When, therefore, he had the splendid inviting figs served up, there was a universal cry of ‘Ah!’ from all present. ‘How beautiful, how inviting!’ exclaimed the King. ‘Chief cook, you are a capital fellow, and worthy of our entire favour.’ In speaking thus the King himself distributed these delicacies, with which he was always very frugal, to every one at table. Each Prince and each Princess received two, the ladies in waiting, the viziers, and the officers one each, the rest he placed before himself, and commenced to eat them with a good appetite.

‘But dear me, how peculiar you look, father!’ exclaimed Princess Amarza all at once. All looked at the King in surprise: immense ears hung down on his head, a long nose extended down his chin. All the guests looked at each other with astonishmentand terror; all were more or less adorned with this peculiar head-dress.

The consternation of the Court may be easily imagined. They immediately sent for all the physicians in the town, who came in troops, prescribed pills and mixtures, but the ears and noses remained. An operation was performed on one of the Princes, but the ears budded out again.

Muck had heard of the whole affair in his hiding-place, and thought now was the time for him to act. He had already procured for himself a dress with the money which he had obtained for the figs, and now appeared as a wise man. A long beard of goat’s hair disguised him completely. He entered the palace of the King with a little bag filled with figs, and offered his services as a foreign physician. At first they were somewhat sceptical, but after Little Muck had given a fig to one of the Princes to eat, and when the latter’s ears and nose again assumed their original shape, then all desired to be cured by the foreign physician. The King, however, took him silently by the hand and led him into his apartment; he there unlocked a door which led into the treasury, beckoning Muck to follow him. ‘Here are my treasures,’ said the King; ‘make your selection, and whatever it be, you shall have, if you rid me of this frightful evil.’ This was sweet music to the ears of LittleMuck; immediately on entering he had seen his slippers lying on the floor, together with his little staff. He now went about the room as if he were desirous of admiring the King’s treasures. Scarcely, however, had he come to his slippers when he quietly slipped into them, seized his little staff, tore off his false beard, and displayed to the amazed King the well-known features of the exiled Muck. ‘Perfidious King,’ he said, ‘who repay with ingratitude faithful services, take as a well-deserved punishment the deformity which has overtaken you. You shall wear the long ears in order that they may remind you daily of Little Muck.’

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