Zigzag Journeys in Northern Lands by Hezekiah Butterworth (fiction books to read .txt) 📕
- Author: Hezekiah Butterworth
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When he ascended the Prussian throne, there was no more unpopular man in the kingdom. He had put down the revolutionary rising in Berlin with grim and relentless hand; and the people believed that their new monarch was a cruel and haughty tyrant.
It was not until after the great triumph over Austria, in 1866, that the Prussians began to discover that King William was not only a valiant soldier, but an ardent lover of his country, and a kind-hearted, whole-souled father of his people.
THE STATESMAN.For the last sixteen years, no sovereign in Europe has been more devotedly beloved and revered by his subjects. Although William is autocratic, and believes in his “divine right” to rule as sturdily as did his mediæval ancestors, and has not a little contempt for popular clamors and popular rights, his reign has been on the whole brilliantly wise and successful. While this has been in a great measure due to the presence of a group of great men around him,—notably of Bismarck and Von Moltke,—the emperor himself has had no small share in promoting the power and towering fortunes of Germany.
His paternal ways with his people, his military knowledge, his fine, frank, hearty, chivalrous nature, his sound sense in the choice of his advisers, and his perception of the wisdom of their counsels, have much aided in raising Prussia and Germany to their present height in Europe.
KING WILLIAM’S HELMET.
Beneath his commanding and rugged exterior there beats a very kindly heart. Many incidents have been related to show the simple good-nature of his character. In his study, on the table at which he writes, there has long remained a rusty old cavalry helmet, the relic of some military association of the emperor.
Whenever the death-warrant of a condemned criminal is brought to him to sign, the emperor looks at it, and then slyly slips the fatal document under the helmet. Sometimes his ministers, anxious that the warrants should be signed, take occasion, in his absence from the study, to pull the papers out from beneath the helmet, just enough to catch their master’s eye.
Most often, however William, on perceiving them, quietly pushes them back again, without a word. So great is his repugnance to dooming even a hardened criminal to death, by a mere scratch of his pen.
At eighty-six, the stalwart old kaiser cannot hope to dwell much longer among his people; but it will be very long before his fine qualities, soldierly courage, and affectionate nature will grow dim in the memory of the fatherland.
The stories related at this meeting were largely from Grimm and Fouqué, and are to be found in American books.
The most pleasing of the stories, told by Herman Reed, is not so well known, and we give it here.
SNEEZE WITH DELIGHT.Many, many years ago there lived in an old German town a good cobbler and his wife. They had one child, Jamie, a handsome boy of some eight years. They were poor people; and the good wife, to help her husband, had a stall in the great market, where she sold fruit and herbs.
One day the cobbler’s wife was at the market as usual, and her little boy was with her, when a strange old woman entered the stalls.
The woman hardly seemed human. She had red eyes, a wizened, pinched-up face, and her nose was sharp and hooked, and almost reached to her chin. Her dress was made up of rags and tatters. Never before had there entered the market such a repulsive-looking person.
“Are you Hannah the herb-woman?” she asked, bobbing her head to and fro. “Eh?”
“Yes.”
“Let me see, let me see; you may have some herbs I want.”
She thrust her skinny hands into the herbs, took them up and smelled of them, crushing them as she did so.
Having mauled them to her heart’s content, she shook her head, saying,—
“Bad stuff; rubbish; nothing I want; rubbish, rubbish,—eh?”
“You are an impudent old hag,” said the cobbler’s boy, Jamie; “you have crushed our herbs, held them under your ugly nose, and now condemn them.”
“Aha, my son, you do not like my nose,—eh? You shall have one, too, to pay for this,—eh?”
“If you want to buy anything, pray do so at once,” said the cobbler’s wife; “you are keeping other customers away.”
“I will buy something,” said the hag viciously; “I will buy. I will take these six cabbages. Six? That is more than I can carry, as I have to lean upon my stick. You must let your boy take them home for me.”
This was but a reasonable request, and the cobbler’s wife consented.
Jamie did as he was bid, and followed the hag to her home. It was a long distance there. At last the beldam stopped in an out-of-the-way part of the town, before a strange-looking house. She touched a rusty key to the door, which flew open, and, as the two entered, a most astonishing sight was revealed to Jamie’s eyes.
The interior of the house was like a throne-room in a palace, the ceilings were of marble and gold, and the furniture was jewelled ebony.
The old woman took a silver whistle and blew it. Little animals—guinea pigs and squirrels—answered the call. They were dressed like children, and walked on two legs; they could talk and understand what was said to them. Was the beldam an enchantress, and were these little animals children, whom she had stolen and made victims of her enchantments?
“Sit down, child,” said the old woman, in a soft voice, “sit down; you have had a heavy load to carry. Sit down, and I will make you a delicious soup; one that you will remember as long as you live. It will contain some of the herb for which I was looking in the market and did not find. Sit down.”
The beldam hurried hither and thither, and with the help of the guinea pigs and squirrels quickly made the soup.
“There, my child, eat that. It contains the magic herb I could not find in the market. Why did your mother not have it? Whoever eats that will become a magic cook.”
Jamie had never tasted such delicious soup. It seemed to intoxicate him. It produced a stupor. He felt a great change coming over him. He seemed to become one of the family of guinea pigs and squirrels, and, like them, to serve their mistress. Delightful little people they were,—he came to regard them as brothers; and time flew by.
Years flew by, and other years, when one day the dame took her crutch and went out. She left her herb-room open, and he went in. In one of the secret cupboards he discovered an herb that had the same scent as the soup he had eaten years before. He examined it. The leaves were blue and the blossoms crimson. He smelt of it.
He began to sneeze,—such a delightful sneeze! He smelt, and sneezed again. Suddenly he seemed to awake, as from a dream,—as though some strange enchantment had been broken.
“I must go home,” he said. “How mother will laugh when I tell her my dream! I ought not to have gone to sleep in a strange house.”
He went out into the street. The children and idlers began to follow him.
“Oho, oho! look, what a strange dwarf! Look at his nose! Never the like was seen before.”
Jamie tried to discover the dwarf, but could not see him.
He reached the market. His mother was there, a sad old woman, in the same place. She seemed altered; looked many years older than when he left her. She leaned her head wearily on her hand.
“What is the matter, mother dear?” he asked.
She started up.
“What do you want of me, you poor dwarf? Do not mock me. I have had sorrow, and cannot endure jokes.”
“But, mother, what has happened?”
He rushed towards her to embrace her, but she leaped into the air.
The market-women came to her and drove him away.
He went to his father’s cobbler’s shop. His father was there, but he looked like an old man.
“Good gracious! what is that?” said he wildly, as Jamie appeared.
“How are you getting on, master?” asked Jamie.
“Poorly enough. I’m getting old, and have no one to help me.”
“Have you no son?”
“I had one, years ago.”
MOUNTAIN SCENE IN GERMANY.
“Where is he now?”
“Heaven only knows. He was kidnapped one market-day, seven years ago.”
“Seven years ago!”
Jamie turned away. The people on the street stared at him, and the ill-bred children followed him. He chanced to pass a barber’s shop, where was a looking-glass in the window. He stopped and saw himself.
The sight filled him with terror. He was a dwarf, with a nose like that of the strange old woman.
What should he do?
He remembered that the old woman had said that the eating of the magic soup that contained the magic herb would make him a magic cook.
He went to the palace of the duke and inquired for the major domo. He was kindly received, as dwarfs are in such places, and he asked to be employed in the kitchen, and allowed to show his skill in preparing some of the rare dishes for the table.
No one in the ducal palace was able to produce such food as he. He was made chief cook in a little time, and enjoyed the duke’s favor for two years. He grew fat, was honored at the great feasts, and became the wonder of the town.
Now happened the strangest thing of his strange life.
(Ye that have eyes, prepare to open them now.)
One morning he went to the goose market to buy some nice fat geese, such as he knew the duke would relish. He purchased a cage of three geese, but he noticed that one of the geese did not quack and gabble like the others.
“The poor thing must be sick,” he said; “I will make haste to kill her.”
To his great astonishment, the goose made answer:—
And I will cause your early death.”
Then he knew that the goose was some enchanted being, and he resolved to spare her life.
“You have not always had feathers on you, as now?” said the dwarf.
“No; I am Mimi, daughter of Waterbrook the Great.”
“Prithee be calm; I will be your friend; I know how to pity you. I was once a squirrel myself.”
Now the duke made a great feast, and invited the prince. The prince was highly pleased with the ducal dishes, and praised the cook.
“But there is one dish that you have not provided,” said the prince.
“What is that?” asked the duke.
“Pâté Suzerain.”
The duke ordered the dwarf to make the rare dish for the next banquet.
The dwarf obeyed.
When the prince had tasted, he pushed it aside, and said,—
“There is one thing lacking,—one peculiar herb. It is not like that which is provided for my own table.”
The duke, in a towering passion, sent for the dwarf.
“If you do not prepare this dish rightly for the next banquet,” he said, “you shall lose your head.”
Now the dwarf was in great distress, and he went to consult with the goose.
“I know what is wanting,” said the goose; “it is an herb called Sneeze with Delight. I will help you find it.”
The dwarf took the goose under his arm, and asked of the guard, who had been placed over him until he should prepare the dish, permission to go into
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