Transcriber's notes: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.

New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.

ADELBERT AND BASTEL;

OR,

EVERY MAN IN HIS PLACE.

A STORY FOR BOYS.

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN

BY PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR,

FRANZ HOFFMANN.

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PUBLISHED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF
THE COMMITTEE OF GENERAL LITERATURE AND EDUCATION
APPOINTED BY THE SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING
CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE.

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CONTENTS.

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CHAPTER

I. A HAMBURG FAMILY

II. [THE HARTZ]

III. IN THE WIDE WORLD

ADELBERT AND BASTEL;

OR,

EVERY MAN IN HIS PLACE.

CHAPTER I.

A HAMBURG FAMILY.

DANIEL BROCKMANN was the most prosperous of the merchant-princes in the rich commercial city of Hamburg. He possessed two magnificent houses: one, conveniently situated near the harbour, containing the offices where his late and widely-extended business was despatched, the counting-house with its numerous clerks and accountants, and the enormous warehouses, in which were stored the products of every nation and climate; the other, quite regal in its grandeur, was an ornament to the "Young Ladies' Walk," a promenade on the banks of the "Alster Bassin," a kind of lake formed by an estuary of the little river "Alster" and whose beauty and style is peculiar to the city of Hamburg. This was his winter residence; in the summer he lived with his family in a beautiful villa on the banks of the Elbe, half-an-hour's drive from the town, surrounded by a magnificent garden, and commanding a fine view of the city and the shipping in the river.

The business connection of the rich merchant extended to all the inhabited countries of the globe. His ships sailed to every sea; his whaling-boats brought whalebone and train-oil from the distant Polar regions, his East India trading vessels were richly laden with spices, costly silks, and dyes. The West Indies contributed coffee, sugar, cocoa-nuts, tobacco and cotton. Africa sent ostrich feathers, ivory, and valuable medicinal herbs, besides all kinds of tropical fruits, such as dates, figs, &c., also skins, and rare wines. In short, whatever of most costly the earth produced flowed into the warehouses of Herr Brockmann, to be again distributed all over the world.

From this extensive business Herr Brockmann derived great riches, and God's blessing seemed to rest upon him, doubtless because he used his large share of this world's goods in a manner pleasing both to Heaven and his follow-men. He was a father to the poor and needy, and his liberal hand was always held out to assist those whose character and circumstances rendered them worthy of help. Idlers and loiterers asked alms of him in vain, but the widow and the orphan, honest craftsmen and labourers, poor but industrious young people of every condition, found him always ready with kind counsel and open purse, and the charitable institutions of his native city looked upon him as their most liberal benefactor, and blessed him for his good and generous heart.

As has been said, God had rewarded him on earth. As he was blessed in his business, so also was he blessed in his home and family. He had an excellent wife, who upheld him heartily in his care and thoughtfulness for the poor, the sick and the needy, and his son Adelbert, a happy-tempered, ingenuous youth of twelve or thirteen years of age, was deservedly his pride and delight; for he, by his natural disposition and abilities, his goodness of heart, and steadiness of purpose, admirable even in a man, promised fair to tread in his father's footsteps. Nevertheless, he had his little failings, tempers, and peculiarities, from which even the best children are never entirely free, but altogether his mind and conduct gave good foundation for the hopes which his parents entertained of his future career.

Only one trait in Adelbert's character gave his father cause for real anxiety, and that was a certain enthusiastic love of adventure that showed itself on several occasions, and had its origin in his lively imagination. He read willingly much that was interesting and instructive, but the books he liked most of all were those in which strange and uncommon adventures were recounted. This was not likely to amount to a fault in itself, for the only books he was allowed to read were most carefully selected by his parents and instructors; but the fault was in this—when Adelbert read tales of adventure, they so completely absorbed his senses, thoughts, and even dreams, that he, so to speak, identified himself with the characters, and burned to pass through their experiences.

For example, he had only the year before received from his father on his birthday a copy of "Robinson Crusoe," and, as usual, was soon deep in the charming book. It produced a wonderful effect on him; no tale had ever riveted his attention and enchained his whole soul like this. Twice, thrice did he read it, from the first page to the last, and poor "Robinson" on the desert island, in the far distant sea, alone, forsaken by all the world, aroused always anew his heartiest sympathy.

Thus far, all was well; but suddenly it occurred to him how charming it would be if he himself could become a second Robinson Crusoe, and from that moment he did not rest till he was allowed to make trial of that kind of life. His parents at first forbade it, and represented to him how foolish and absurd his wishes were; but Adelbert begged and entreated so earnestly and perseveringly, that at last they yielded.

"Well, since he insists upon it," said the father to the mother, when they were alone, "let him have his own way. At this time of year in the height of summer, during the warm nights, no harm can befal him, and besides, I am convinced the pleasure will not last long, and a storm of rain will soon cool the 'Robinson Crusoe' fever."

So Adelbert received at last the much-desired permission, and went joyfully to work to carry out his plans. A distant corner of the garden was given up to him, and he built with his own hands a little hut of boughs, fenced it in all round, took a pair of goats with him for the sake of their milk, and condemned himself to spend many weeks in loneliness, and deprived of all his accustomed comforts. A bundle of straw and a blanket served him for couch, the milk of the goats, and a little bread he had directed to be given him daily over the fence, was to be his nourishment, and for amusement, he would manufacture all the tools he could possibly want in his hermit-life. He had coloured the whole scheme so brightly in his imagination that he did not doubt for one moment that he should spend at least some weeks of the greatest pleasure in this manner. But it proved the opposite of what he anticipated, and his father had judged rightly.

Adelbert, accustomed to his comfortable bed, with its soft mattress, spent a wretched night on his miserable couch of straw. The next morning the goats would not allow him to milk them, as he did not know how to set about it properly; so, for that day he was obliged to be content with bread and water for his food, and the following night, to complete his discomfiture, there came a heavy shower of rain, completely drenching everything. The wet penetrated through his loosely-constructed hut, and the blanket afforded but very slight protection. Before midnight he was wet to the skin, and his bed was soaking. He went out and looked at the sky, but not one little star twinkled encouragingly at him, only the rain-drops pattered faster and faster on the loaves of the trees.

"This is miserable," said he to himself; "I do not think the rain means to stop, and I find after all it is better to read 'Robinson Crusoe' than to act it. What folly it is! I will go home."

And so, without more ado, he left his romantic dwelling, broke down the carefully erected fence unceremoniously, and ran back to the house.

Dripping with wet, and rather shamefaced, he went in, and was received laughingly by his parents, who had expected this conclusion to the adventure. A slight cold was the only penalty, but Adelbert was cured for good and all of the "Robinson Crusoe" fever.

But other fevers attacked him from time to time, and one day they took a sea-going turn, because his imagination had been excited by some adventures at sea he had read. He could not rest, and begged so long that at last his father made a short voyage with him to Heligoland.

"If only a storm would come," thought Adelbert, as the steamer sped through the water off Cuxhaven, "how pleasant that would be, father; there is no fun in a sea voyage when it is so smooth."

"I expect you would not think it any joke, if your wish for a storm were fulfilled," answered his father drily. "The description of a storm at sea may be very fine to read at home in a comfortable room, but to experience one in reality is a very different thing, therefore I am thankful for a favourable wind and smooth water."

"But, my dear father," answered Adelbert pouting, "such a voyage is no better than a row in a pleasure-boat on the 'Alster Bassin.' No, no. I long for a storm which comes rushing over the surging waters, and roars through the shrouds, whilst wave after wave flings itself on the deck, and the ship shivers and trembles like a living thing, rising one minute high on a mountainous billow, to be cast the next moment into the deepest abyss of the ocean. Such a storm would be my delight, and undismayed I would take my stand by this mast."

"Well, my boy, I only hope your heroism will not be put to the proof," said his father.

"It is very likely to be the case though, sir," said the captain of the steamer, who standing near had been an amused but good-natured listener to the conversation. "Yes, Herr Brockmann, it is not unlikely that the young gentleman will soon have a taste of a real 'nor'-wester;' the clouds are coming up fast."

"But will there be any danger?" asked Herr Brockmann rather anxiously.

"Oh no, sir, none at all," answered the captain, "only a little squall, it will be all over in an hour. You can be quite satisfied of that, and the young gentleman may safely stay on deck, if he likes to see the fun."

"Oh that is glorious," cried Adelbert joyfully; "how delighted I am, if it will only get really rough, so that we may dance over the water."

"Well, I reckon we shall have dancing enough to please you, young gentleman," said the captain with a cunning twinkle of the eye; "hold fast by this mast till it is over, and then you will have something to tell mamma when you get home." And laughing slily, the captain turned away to give orders to prepare for the coming storm.

And in the meantime, Adelbert took up his position by the mast, and watched with eager looks the approaching gale.

"See, father, how grand, how beautiful it is!" said he with sparkling eyes. "See that heavy cloud sweeping over the sea, like a great, dark bird with outspread wings; it is a glorious sight."

"Not badly described," said his father, a little ironically; "but I had rather the great, dark bird flew away from us, with its outspread wings instead of coming over us. Here it comes, then; and I expect you will soon be of my opinion."

"Oh no, father, I would not for worlds have missed this grand sight," cried Adelbert, throwing up his head proudly. "Yes, here is the storm! Here come the foam-crested waves! What a magnificent sight! Can anything be more beautiful than—"

At this moment, one of the swollen waves reached the ship, pitched her somewhat roughly on her side, and flung itself in showers of glistening spray over the deck. The sudden shock came as unexpectedly to our little friend as did the salt water; his knees gave way under him, he staggered and would have fallen, if his father had not held him up with his strong arm. Adelbert appeared rather disconcerted as he clung in alarm to his father with both hands, the words died on his lips, and it was some little time before he recovered his presence of mind.

"Oh!" cried he as soon as he could speak. "That took me by surprise, I was not thinking of it; but never mind, when it comes again, I shall be better prepared, and I will stand as firm as if I were rooted to the spot."

"So much the better," said his father, "I am only curious to see how firmly the roots will hold."

"As firmly as those of an oak," answered Adelbert boastingly, as he clung to the ropes on the mast, "neither storm nor waves shall move me from this spot."

His father shrugged his shoulders as he thought to himself, "We shall see."

And the storm came rushing nearer and nearer on the wings of the wind.

The first wave that had caused Adelbert's giddiness was only the forerunner of what was to come; and now the storm broke over them with rain, flashing lightning, and rolling thunder. Adelbert, drenched through as he was by rain and spray, stood firm, the vivid lightning and loud thunder did not frighten him, and even the heavy rolling and pitching of the vessel did not seem to affect him, as he stood holding with both hands to the rigging. He joked and laughed aloud in the midst of the storm and beating rain, his long fair hair streamed on the wind, his cheeks glowed with excitement, and his eyes sparkled with pleasure and enjoyment, when suddenly in the midst of his joy, he became silent, the colour left his cheeks, his eyes were no longer bright, and he looked most truly wretched.

"What is the matter?" asked his father anxiously, as he took him in his arms.

"Oh dear!" groaned Adelbert. "All at once, I have become so sick and ill. I cannot think what it is. Oh dear, I shall die, I know I shall, I am so bad."

"Oho! As bad as that, is it?" cried the captain, who was standing near, with a short laugh. "It is only a slight attack of sea-sickness you have, young gentleman. How now? Don't the storm and the raging waves please you any longer? Ah, I expected as much; but cheer up, when the storm is over, the sickness will go off."

All pleasure in the beauties of the storm was past, and Adelbert thanked Heaven when, after two hours of suffering, he once more stood on "terra-firma," and felt the red cliffs of Heligoland under his feet.

For some time he had had enough of the sea, and although afterwards, he often made short voyages with his father, he never again wished, as at first, for hurricanes or gales. A pleasure trip in his little boat on the smooth and mirror-like Alster Bassin, seemed to him for many weeks to be far the best. There he need not fear the dreadful sea-sickness, which for weeks he never remembered without a shudder.

A month or two after the voyage to Heligoland, a book fell into Adelbert's hands, which soon kindled fresh desires in his breast. It was the description of a journey in the "Hartz" mountains, and by the time he had read it through two or three times, he could think of nothing but deep shady valleys, of wildly-cleft, rugged, and boldly projecting masses of rock, of rushing mountain torrents, magnificent forest glades, the lonely huts of the charcoal-burners and the woodmen, stately stags, and timid little roe-deer, dark caves in the mountain sides, and deep subterranean mines and shafts where the poor hill-men, in the sweat of their brow, brought costly metals to the light of day, and gathered the treasure they would never share.

"Oh, mother," said he for the hundredth time, "if I could only go there. To climb over mountain and valley, to ramble through the forest and listen to the murmuring of the brooks, and to go down deep into the bowels of the earth,—what pleasure it would be! I shall die of longing, if I do not behold all these wonders and beauties."

"People don't die so easily, foolish child," said his mother, smiling. "Besides, it is too late to undertake a journey to the 'Hartz' this year. In October it is cold in the mountains, and you would soon be wishing to leave the damp valleys and misty dales, and return home. Have patience till next spring, and then we will talk more about it, and perhaps, if you are good and diligent all the winter, it will give your father pleasure to grant your request, you know how kind he is."

It seemed a very long time till the spring, but Adelbert saw plainly that he must wait till then, for the next few days brought cold storms of rain and wind, making it anything but inviting for travelling. So he nourished and fed his longing to the utmost, reading eagerly all that he possibly could about the "Hartz," their beauties and peculiarities.

When, then, at last the spring really came, and clothed the trees once more with fresh green leaves, when winds breathed soft, and a cloudless blue sky smiled on the flower-covered fields, then Adelbert rested no longer.

"Mother, spring is here," said he; "do you remember what you promised me last autumn? How lovely and beautiful it must be now in the hills and valleys of the Hartz!"

"Patience, patience," said his mother, with a smile, "your birthday comes next week, who knows what may happen then?"

Adelbert was radiant with hope, his mother's words filled his heart with the sweetest expectations, and more eagerly than ever he read his books about the "Hartz" mountains, and dreamt of nothing else day or night.

"Yes, if I were only a charcoal-burner," thought he to himself,—"a charcoal-burner in the midst of the deepest forests, where he reigns supreme! What things he must see and experience, as he builds up the wood in his kiln, and kindling it, watches carefully lest it break into a blaze! The shy beasts of the forest approach him without fear, for he does not pursue nor kill them like the hunter. Oh, if I were but a charcoal-burner! I would build a hut of green boughs under the shade and shelter of a wide-spreading oak or beech; I would tame the stags and roe-deer, I would entice the pretty little birds that sing so beautifully, and strew food in abundance for them, till they became so tame that they would perch on my hand or my shoulder.

"Then in the evening, I would listen to tales and stories from the other charcoal-burners, mountaineers, and huntsmen who might by chance come to visit me in my lonely dwelling. They would like to come to see me, for I should be very kind to them, my father is rich, and would let me want for nothing, and I would willingly share everything with them, only to hear their beautiful stories of the 'Wild Huntsman,' of the 'Giant Maiden,' of the 'Princess Ilsa,' the spectre huntsman 'Hakelberg,' too, and the spirit of the woods that flew before his ghostly band, as they rushed through the forest to the sound of horn and 'halloo.'

"People who live deep in the woods know ten times as many suchlike tales as are to be found in books; besides, how much better they must sound there in the depths of the wilderness, or the fastnesses of the mountains, in the very spots where they have happened, and where, perhaps, behind the next bush sits hidden an inquisitive hobgoblin, listening, and grinning with delight over the mischievous tricks that he or his brothers had played. Yes, that must be splendid; and who knows? If my father does not forbid it, I may perhaps become a charcoal-burner, and live free and happy in the beautiful loneliness of the forest."

At the same time, Adelbert seemed not only to have thought about it, but actually to have formed his plans and made arrangements in his own mind. However, he did not betray himself by a single word, but waited with the greatest impatience for his birthday, when he was to see, the fulfilment of all his most cherished and secret wishes.

At length the day came; the 10th of June smiled softly and sunnily on the bright blossoms that gemmed the earth, and Adelbert stood beaming with delight before the table, where, surrounded by flowers, the loving care of his tender parents had spread a variety of handsome presents. He was pleased with all of them, but rejoiced most over a complete suit of travelling clothes, with every convenience for a journey, a walking stick, a satchel to hang over the shoulder, a case containing brushes, combs, and suchlike necessaries, an elegant little knapsack, and an excellent telescope, a thing no traveller in the mountains should be without. Everything was placed together in order, and, above all, a large card with the words, "For the journey in the Hartz."

Adelbert was overjoyed; if he had been presented with a kingdom, he could not have felt happier than he did with his birthday present, fulfilling as it did his most ardent wishes. He threw himself into his parents' arms, and thanked them with the tenderest words and caresses.

CHAPTER II.

[THE HARTZ.]

EARLY on the following morning, Herr Brockmann, his wife, and Adelbert, with the servants who accompanied their master and mistress, were seated in a comfortable travelling carriage, and driving towards the long wished-for mountains. It was decided that they should spend a month or six weeks in the "Hartz," in order that they might thoroughly enjoy all their wonders and beauties. The weather was glorious, the air deliciously mild and balmy, and there was every sign of a long continuance of sunshine and blue sky.

Adelbert would have pressed forward without rest or pause; the large towns they passed on the journey had not the slightest attraction for him, and he would hardly vouchsafe them even the most passing attention. What interest had they for him, who had just come from Hamburg, that peerless city, with which, in his opinion, no other could compete? His heart was in the hills and vales of the "Hartz," in the babbling brooks and murmuring tree-tops, and when he first caught sight of the blue misty outline of the "Brocken" in the distance, he cried aloud with excitement, stretched out his arms longingly towards it, and sighed for wings that he might plunge at once into all its delights.

He was nearly beside himself when, in the dewy freshness of morning, he saw for the first time one of the loveliest valleys of the "Hartz," the "Selkethal," and beheld in reality that which till now had only been presented to his imagination in shadowy pictures and shapeless outline! Here was the brook that leapt, splashing like living crystal over the many-coloured pebbles in its bed. Here, right and left, rose the mountains clothed with thick forest, whose foliage was beautiful with the green freshness of spring. Here the meadows with their countless gay flowers gave forth the most delicious scent, their stems and leaves glittering with dewdrops, sparkling like diamonds in the centres of the little delicate blossoms. A soft, blue haze hung over the distant hills, while from the cool shade of the surrounding trees up rose the clear voices of the winged songsters of the forest; the whistle of the blackbird, and the sweet notes of the goldfinch and linnet sounded joyfully on the air, and the nightingale sat in the thick alder bush and told her tale of love and sorrow in deep and heart-stirring harmony, while at intervals the call of the cuckoo rang out clearly, far and wide over the mountain side.

Adelbert could no longer bear the restraint of the carriage; he sprang out, his parents followed, and the carriage came after at a distance. It was truly beautiful now that the noise of wheels no longer disturbed them. Adelbert listened and gazed in a perfect transport of delight, and often he stood still that sight and hearing might enjoy to the utmost the surrounding beauties. More softly murmured the brook, fuller and more joyfully rang the songs of the birds, and—but what is that? A distant sound of bells fell on the ear, becoming deeper and clearer as they approached, now here, now there, sounding fairy-like out of the dark pine-woods far upon the mountain side, out of the little valley below, and sometimes from the thick underwood close by the wayside.

"What is that?" asked Adelbert in hushed voice, as though spell-bound by the enchanting tones. "Can it be earthly music? Only listen, father! Listen, mother! What is it?"

His parents listened, entranced, to the unaccustomed sounds which rang out of the thicket, now clearer and louder, now scarcely heard, but always lovely, pure and harmonious. Presently a dog barked, and the powerful voice of a man was heard calling to it; the bells were quite close, and see! Out of the underwood in all directions came a numerous herd of sleek cattle; they gazed for a moment with their large, soft eyes at the strangers, and then leisurely bowed their gentle heads to crop the sweet, luxuriant grass, growing on the banks of the rivulet.

"A herd! A herd of cows with bells on leathern belts round their necks!" cried Adelbert. "Look, father! I never thought they could have sounded so wonderfully sweet and soft."

They listened to them for some time, till the herd had passed on deeper into the forest, and the music of the bells had melted into the softest tinkling, and then they resumed their wanderings in the blooming meadow, along the side of the brook, by a lonely mill, whose loud clatter awoke the echoes, and the great mill-wheel as it swung round, threw off the drops of water like myriads of diamonds.

Presently, on reaching the top of a little ascent in the path, where the valley, narrow till now, opened out on each side, Adelbert came suddenly to a standstill, gave a cry of surprise and admiration, and pointed with upraised hand to the distant heights.

"Oh father! Mother! Look yonder! How magnificent!" cried he.

And beautiful indeed was the scene that met their sight. On the top of steep slopes, clothed with thick underwood, out of which peeped here and there, rugged masses of bright red rock, there arose a stately castle, with high commending towers, on whose gilded vanes the sunbeams gleamed like stars. Nobly and proudly the grand old walls looked down from their height into the narrow green valley, shut in by rocks and hills. In the distance was the rushing mill-stream, in the surrounding bushes the birds sang with the greatest joyfulness, large butterflies of the most gorgeous colours fluttered gaily from flower to flower, and high in the air far above even the proudly raised castle-keep, floated a lordly eagle on apparently motionless wing soaring in its measured and circular flight.

"Father, what a splendid scene!" cried Adelbert, after a pause of silent admiration. "Now you will never laugh at me, and call me a foolish, imaginative dreamer again, because I longed for the 'Hartz' mountains. Could anything be more delicious than to live here, seeing each day some new beauty of nature, and breathing continually the pure mountain air?"

"Certainly," said his father, "it is good to gaze on beauties so refreshing to the sight and enlarging to the mind; but to dream away one's life in a valley like this, far from all the world, however beautiful it may be, would in time become very tedious. Besides, in the winter these mountains are covered with cold, dreary snowdrifts, instead of fresh verdure, as now. No, my child, there is a time for everything; besides, life has its claims, and it is not the beauties of nature, but a well-regulated industry, that can make one happy after all."

"For example, if I could be a huntsman or a charcoal-burner," said Adelbert, "should I not have all that could satisfy me at once? Hard work and lovely nature would go hand in hand, and each would increase the pleasures of the other."

"Very true," answered his father, "if you had been born and bred in these forests, such a life might satisfy you, but you have grown up with perfectly different surroundings, and in quite different circumstances; and I think every one ought to seek to fill well the situation in which it has pleased God to place him. Accustomed to a large busy town and many comforts, which you could not fail to miss were you deprived of them, you would soon find a lonely, toilsome life in the forest become very irksome, and you would long again for home and all its luxuries. 'Every man in his place,' dear Adelbert, and your calling seems to me to be, following in my footsteps, and carrying on my business in the distant countries of the globe. The life of a charcoal-burner would hardly do for you."

"Perhaps not," said Adelbert thoughtfully, "but I should like to try it, nevertheless."

"And it would be the same thing over again as your trial of Robinson Crusoe's life," said his mother laughing, as Herr Brockmann elevated his eyebrows, and made no answer. "Your father is right, every one should be content with his lot. The calling of a huntsman or charcoal-burner is as honourable as any other, but one should be born to it. Providence has placed you in quite another position."

Adelbert listened in silence, but was not convinced, and the next moment was dreaming again of a forest life, and thinking it the finest in the world.

The impressions he received from the journey in the "Hartz" did not change his opinion, but only strengthened it. Favoured by the beautiful weather, the wildly romantic valleys, the distant views of the hills and open plains, appeared doubly charming, and his whole soul was filled with admiration at the wonders nature displayed.

After wandering about for a fortnight, it was determined to stay some weeks in the charming little town of Ilsenburg, and to make numerous excursions from thence into the country round, as Madame Brockmann was tired, and required rest and repose.

Here, then, Adelbert had the opportunity of revelling to the utmost in nature and its beauties, for the green boughs of the forest nodded to him quite close to the windows, and seemed often to beckon to him to come to their green bowers, and refresh himself in their cool shade. The bright little river "Ilse," with its clear crystal waters, leaped over the smooth pebbles close by the house, and its murmuring and babbling sounded in his ears like seductive voices whispering,—

"Come, child, come, and revel in my loveliness, stroll along my banks, and see how beautiful they are, and how joyful and frolicsome I am. Where the proud oak rears its head, and the beech spreads its broad branches, where the bold rocks rise rugged and bare, and the little brooks run purling down the mountain side, where the birds sing sweetest, and the flowers bloom brightest, there is my home; and there I leap and skip in joyful dance like a playful, happy child; and there you will be happy too, as you never can be in the great, wide world outside."

So the "Ilse" seemed to plead, and Adelbert listened only too willingly to the fascinating voice.

"Only wait," he whispered to the murmuring rivulet, "I will come and enjoy all the delights of your kingdom; yes, yes, I will come and wander by your side to where the bold rocks jut forth, and the proud oaks rear their heads, and perhaps even farther, till I find what I long for; only wait, and I will surely come."

And one morning, when he had risen with the sun which shone clear and bright out of the blue heavens, he could no longer resist the temptation, and came to the determination to penetrate at once into the depths of the forest. He dressed himself very quietly, so as not to awaken his parents, who slept in the adjoining room, took his walking stick, hung his satchel over his shoulder, put his straw hat on his head, ran lightly downstairs, across the court-yard, and out at the back door, telling them in the house to say, if his parents inquired for him, that he had gone a little way into the forest, and they were not to be anxious about him, for he should be back by the middle of the day.

Perhaps he really intended to be back by noon; more probably, however, he had not thought about it. All he cared for was to breathe the fresh mountain air, and drink his fill of the soft breezes. So he wandered onwards along the banks of the murmuring Ilse, as it leapt from rock to rock in its headlong course, and onwards under the shade of the grand old forest trees, which spread their green roof over his head.

The dewy breath of the morning refreshed and strengthened him, the flowers smiled at him, the green bushes on the banks whispered soft morning greetings to him, and the little birds looked at him with clear and friendly eyes, and sang "Welcome, welcome!"

An elegant little roe-deer sprang from its covert in front of him, and seeing him, was continuing its graceful flight; but as he stood quite still, it lingered, turned its head towards him, and gazed at him with its soft, liquid eyes. It seemed to know by instinct that it had nothing to fear from the bright, smart little boy. Very closely it examined him; the clean white trousers, the light blue frock with the snowy shirt collar over it, the straw hat with its gay-coloured band, and the round, rosy face underneath, with the fresh, red lips and cheeks, the large, soft blue eyes and white brow, shaded by golden curls, appeared to please the little animal. For a minute or more it remained in the same place, till at last Adelbert plucked a green branch from the nearest bush, and held it invitingly towards it. Then the deer turned away, lifted its delicate, slender little foot, and stepped slowly into the thick underwood; Adelbert followed, but that it did not approve of. One other look it gave the boy, then with two bounds it cleared the nearest bushes, and the next moment had disappeared.

"What a pity!" murmured Adelbert. "I would not have hurt the pretty little animal."

As he went farther and farther into the forest, the more beautiful it became. He really was in the midst of the woods now, as much so as even he could wish. High and steep were the mountain sides, high towered the trunks of the oaks and the beeches, and their stately heads waved in the breath of the morning breeze. The Ilse skipped joyfully along, and sprang headlong from rock to rock, bustling and foaming in mere wanton sport. All around was still and lonely, no voices were heard but those of nature; the world, with all its noise, and busy, never-resting crowds seemed to lie far away, miles and miles beyond the hills. None of its clamour penetrated into this solemn loneliness to disturb the delicious calm.

Adelbert, as he went on, was never tired of gazing, listening, and dreaming, and inhaling the fresh mountain breezes. Sometimes he stood still and listened to the song of a bird, to the tapping of a woodpecker on the trunk of a tree, to the rushing of a waterfall, or to the sound of a woodman's axe, echoing from afar through the forest glades.

"Perhaps that is a charcoal-burner, felling the trees far his kiln. How nice if I could discover him, and talk to him, and get him to tell me about his life in the beautiful wilderness! And why should I not try to find him?" continued he to himself. "The morning is not very far gone yet, I can tell by the shadows on the mountains. I must leave the little river, certainly, but I cannot help that. I shall soon find my way back to it, and then I can go home; and if not? Why, the charcoal-burner will show me the way, there is nothing to fear."

No sooner said than done. He listened intently for the blows of the axe, turned away from the course of the river, and penetrated into the wood in the direction of the sound. The blows sounded louder and louder, but the woodman must have been farther off than he imagined. Uphill and downhill he went, climbing and clambering, now down into a deep dell, over rolling stones which gave way under his feet and came rattling and clattering after him, now up a steep bank that he climbed with difficulty, often on his hands and knees, slipping and sliding, clinging to roots and shrubs, sometimes in danger of falling back again to the bottom. However, he did not mind this much, for he was strong and active, a very fair climber, and possessed a steady head.

Bravely he pushed on towards the sound of the axe, and was confident he must at last reach the spot where the woodman toiled in the lonely wilderness. All at once, a rapid mountain stream too wide for him to leap across, stopped him. He hesitated; should he go back? No; the way back seemed long and tiresome; besides, he began to feel rather tired, as well as hungry and thirsty. His thirst he was able to quench, for there was no lack of water in the brook, and it was as fresh and clear as liquid crystal. He stooped, took up the water in the hollow of his hand, and quaffed the refreshing draught; thirst was allayed, but then he was hungry too. He found a few berries on the bushes, but they did not serve to appease his appetite.

"Ah, well," thought he, "I must wade through the brook, and invite myself as guest to the charcoal-burner; even if I do get a little wet, it will soon dry in this warm sunny weather."

After searching a short time, he came to where several large stones seemed to lie smoothly under the water, and made the landing easier on the opposite bank. He sprang boldly from one to the other, and congratulated himself that the water hardly reached to his ankles; only one more spring to make and he would be over. He made it and—fell full length in the brook. His foot had slipped in springing, and the cold mountain torrent rushed pitilessly over him. Fortunately, it was not very deep, or the bottom very stony; so with a single effort, he regained his feet, and waded the rest of the distance to the opposite shore, and there he was on the other side at last, but wet through to the skin, with the water running from him in streams.

"That was an unwelcome bath," grumbled he; "I should not have thought the water could have been so cold. But what does it matter? A quick run will warm me, and I will spread my clothes at the charcoal-kiln: that will soon dry them."

He shook himself like a dog, climbed up a bank, over the top of which the sound of the axe seemed to come, and stood on the top for some moments; suddenly the blows ceased.

"The man is having his breakfast; I will look for him, he cannot be much farther off now," said Adelbert to himself.

So he went fearlessly in the direction whence, a few moments before, the sounds of the blows proceeded. He pushed hastily through bushes and shrubs, till, after nearly a quarter of an hour's scrambling, he was stopped by a thicket of brambles extending right and left, as far as he could see between the trees.

"How stupid!" said he. "But it can't be helped, I must go through, or I shall get too far out of the way."

He made an attempt to do so, but was soon obliged to desist; the hard, sharp thorns scratched his face and hands, and tore his clothes, and, before he had taken ten steps, his nice white trousers were completely spoiled, and his blouse was full of three-cornered holes.

"This won't do," murmured he, "I must try another way. If I only go a short distance round, I shall still come to the charcoal-burner at last."

He turned wearily away from the thorny bushes, went quickly a little way along the edge of the thicket, and came at last to a place where it seemed less dense, so that he could get through without further damage to his clothes or his own skin. In a short time, he left the disagreeable place behind, and turned once more in the direction in which he expected to find the woodman.

He could see nothing but forest everywhere—nothing but the trunks of countless trees, whose branches formed the most glorious leafy canopy. This was doubtless very fine, but Adelbert thought it would not be amiss if he could come across the woodman's hut. Where could the man have hidden himself? He must surely be close by, only he could not see him, because of the thick shrubs and bushes. He stood still and called as loud as he could, "Woodman! Woodman! Where are you?"

"Where are you?" answered a clear voice.

Adelbert pricked up his ears, but it was only his own voice that the echo caught up provokingly. He called again louder than before, and then listened, but no voice, save that of the echo, gave him answer. He now began to lose heart a little. Suppose he had missed the right path and had passed the cottage in the thick forest? Where should he look for it now? Whichever way he took might only lead him farther wrong. Should he turn back for good and all, and try to reach the Ilse once more? That would perhaps be the most prudent thing to do; but he did not relish the idea at all, for the way was long and disagreeable, he was very hungry, and by the time he had found the river and reached Ilsenburg, he should be starving. He had only to go forward, and by good luck he should find the woodman's cottage, or if not, he should at any rate get out of the forest and find inhabitants; there he could get help, for fortunately he was not without money, as, just before he went out, he had put his purse, containing some silver, into his pocket.

So he went on, and about a hundred paces farther on came to a clearing, and looked down into a lovely green valley, through which ran a little brook. Under a shady group of trees Adelbert could see the roof of a cottage, and still farther off, behind a slight projection of the hill, there ascended a blue smoke, rising like a thin veil over the mountain side. Adelbert was so glad; there were then inhabitants in the valley below, and he was saved! He ran quickly down the hill, found a narrow footpath, and following it, arrived at the cottage he had seen from above.

On entering, he found it empty, though with evident marks of habitation, for there was a fire on the hearth, over which a large pot was boiling. Parlour, bedroom, kitchen—all stood open, and Adelbert could walk through them.

"The birds are flown," said he, "but they cannot be far-off, some one must come soon to look after the pot on the fire; I will wait."

As he felt tired, he sat himself down on a wooden stool in the little parlour, and rested for a few minutes, and then becoming impatient, he went to the door and sent a loud "Halloa!" down the valley.

The "Halloo!" was returned, but this time it was not his own voice, but a strange one, deep and powerful, that answered him.

He went in the direction of the call, round the end of the projection he had noticed from above, and came out upon a large flat space, in the centre of which was a burning hill; it was a large kiln, as Adelbert knew at the first glance, and near it was working a tall strong man, with smoke-begrimed face and thick matted hair and beard, who handled the heavy iron shovel as though it were a hazel-wand.