Read Ebook: Funny Big Socks Being the Fifth Book of the Series by Barrow Sarah L

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Ebook has 264 lines and 18818 words, and 6 pages

"It must be the Evil One himself!" cried the Burgomaster, trembling in every limb, while the ladies screamed and clung together.

"Not quite so bad as that, I hope," said Walther, half laughing, yet excited, and, to tell the truth, somewhat alarmed also.

"We are all fools if we allow this thing to go on!" shouted Max, who had suddenly recovered his spirits. "Walther, thou wilt stand by me. Give me the reins, sir, or hold them longer at your peril!"

As he spoke, he endeavored to seize the reins, while Walther stood up in the sleigh and grasped the whip.

All at once the stranger let fall the reins, and as they trailed on the ground, he snatched the whip from Walther's hand, gave a sudden leap into the air, and vaulted on the back of the near horse, where he sat at ease, and drove postillion, without their being able to help themselves.

"Alas, we have no arms!" groaned the Burgomaster; "we may as well be resigned to our fate. Kiss me, my children; you may never kiss your old papa again!"

On this, the whole quartette fell to weeping, blowing their noses most earnestly from time to time, when, just as their grief was at its height, and they were fairly sobbing in each other's arms, a sound of music broke upon their ears! The next moment lights gleamed through the trees, the sleigh took a sharp turn, passed through an open gate, and drew up before the very door of--Ol?'s! For, in reality, both roads led to the inn, although one was much more intricate and less frequented than the other.

The Von Geirsteins were for a moment too much astounded to speak. Then the mysterious driver, swinging himself lightly off his horse, and doffing his fur cap, showing them a face not only handsome, but perfectly familiar to them, exclaimed:

"You see, my dear friends, that it was neither a bandit nor His Satanic Majesty who drove you by the nearest road to a robber's castle or the lower regions, but your very good neighbor, Fritz Von Eisenfeldt, who has had at once the pleasure and amusement of taking you safe and sound to Ol?'s, after all!"

As the wind uttered these last words, it whisked up the chimney and disappeared. The literary man sat upright in his chair with a sudden start, and opened his eyes wide.

"Good heavens!" he cried, "have I been dreaming, or has the wind really related the tale?" He could not at all tell this, but he remembered every word of the story, and wrote it on--yes! this very piece of paper, where you now read it!

SECOND EVENING.

THE following evening the literary man could not but think of the advice of the wind. He went to the window, and looked out on the street, to see if there might not be a story there.

The houses opposite were as handsome as on this side of the way, and exactly like them; the gas lamps burned brilliantly, and everything appeared as genteel and stupid as could possibly be conceived. "There's not a story to be met with in this part of the town," thought the literary man. "I must go out, and see if I can find one elsewhere."

The snow flakes were rapidly falling from the sky, but the literary man wrapped his warm cloak around him, and went bravely out. It is not every one who has courage to go out in the snow! that is, the snow at Friedrichshafen. It is sure to be so wet and cold, with large bits of icy hail among it, covering the ground with a slippery compound, that one cannot step upon without danger of falling.

However, out he went, and slipped and scrambled along the pavement. Kribbedy, krabbledy, plump! down he sat on a neighbor's doorstep; not without exclaiming, "Potstausend!"

As he sat there with a rueful countenance, the thought passed through his mind, "If, now, the wind would but give me the least idea how to begin, I might compose a tale while I wait for a hackney coach, for walk I won't!" and he looked up and down the street, but no coach came in sight.

All at once it was as though a merry voice whispered in his ear--yes, the literary man felt sure that the snow said to him "S-o-o! my good friend, the wind has sent thee to me! Fie upon thee, that thou canst not compose a tale without help, for all thy learning! Well, pay attention, and I will tell thee some of the frolics of my merry cousin, the Frost. Now, listen."

And the literary man listened with all his ears, and quite forgot that he was looking for a hackney coach, and that he was sitting on the steps of his neighbor, the Herr Hartman.

THE STORY OF THE SNOW, ABOUT CAPTAIN JACK.

THE children were hurrying homeward on a cold winter's evening, from the forest, where they had been binding fagots. As they scampered along, some one seized upon them from behind and nipped their ears sharply. "Fie, ugly Captain Jack!" cried they; "so thou art at work again! one may easily see that!" and they would have pursued their spiteful enemy; but he was already gone, and they were now obliged to hasten onward.

Captain Jack had slipped back to the forest, and thrown himself stealthily on the ground, laughing to see their discomfiture. The moon shone on the spot where he lay, and then all the dried grass appeared white and sparkling, as though it were covered with glistening spray. At one moment one saw him lying gazing at one with laughing eyes; the next, it seemed as though only the hoar dew rested there, and glittered in the moonlight.

"Bur-r-r!" growled the north wind, as he flew through the forest. "Hollo! Captain Jack; many thanks for the Ice King's message which thou broughtest me. Come, wilt thou ride on my back in return?"

"Many thanks!" replied Captain Jack; "I prefer to travel on foot, and amuse myself by the way."

"Well, be that as thou wilt!" replied the wind, and he flew off in a huff; for he considered that he had made a very honorable offer, and had been slighted.

But Captain Jack ran gayly from the forest; taking long strides over the grass, and sowing it with little white pearls, breathing on the bare branches of the trees, and sheathing them in glittering mail, pouncing slyly on stray wayfarers, and pinching their ears and noses till they roared again! Then Captain Jack laughed; it sounded like the sharp crack of a pistol through the still air.

"Do you think I have a warm coat to give any one?" quoth Captain Jack, and he breathed on their long whiskers, which now stood quite stiffly. "Oh hute-tute-tute-tu!" cried they, hopping up and down with pain; "oh my toes! my poor toes!"

Captain Jack also danced with merriment; he had neither soul nor feeling, and couldn't understand being sorry for any one.

Over the river, the lights of the town were gleaming. They shone like stars that had stooped a little lower from heaven. Captain Jack skipped lightly across the waves rolling so softly from shore to shore, and as he passed, the water smoothed out under his feet; it was as though some one had placed upon it a thin sheet of glass.

He ran through the silent streets of the town, where all the world had gone to sleep, and peered in at many casements. Sometimes he beheld the good folks dreaming, with the hard, ugly frown still on their faces which they had worn when they were awake; and then he slipped into the room--yes, a key hole was large enough for him to creep through if he chose! and breathed upon them so, that they shivered in their beds, in spite of the warm eider down they had tucked around them. "The window was open on a crack," they would say on the following day; but it needed not a crack for Captain Jack to enter if he thought they deserved it!

In other chambers he beheld lovely little children, with the faces of angels; or venerable grandsires; with their snowy hair floating over the pillow, and then he drew the most beautiful pictures on the window pane, to amuse them when they should wake. He crept slyly into the larders of thrifty housewives, and, with a touch, made chickens and ducks hanging there, quite stiff and tasteless; he skipped to the cistern, and magically rendered the pump handle immovable; he ran about the streets and played tricks with the bright gas lamps, and they went out, as though a puff of wind had blown over them. And, last of all, he ran against a stout Burgomaster, returning homeward from a merry supper, and so pinched the end of his red bottle-nose, that it tingled again!

"I'll have you taken to prison, you scoundrel!" roared the Burgomaster; but how was he to find Captain Jack? Only where a large fire was raging did Captain Jack shrink away in haste; heat did not seem to agree with him, for he looked strangely small and shrunken.

He was now weary of the city, and hastened lightly to the seaside. In the harbor ships lay at anchor, ice-bound; and on one of these a young sailor was keeping watch for thieves; but he saw not Captain Jack coming softly on board, and peering over his shoulder to see what was written on the paper he held in his hand. A lantern hung from the mast and shed a feeble light on the tear-blistered page, where the pious mother implored a blessing on her son. As he read, the young sailor also wept; but Captain Jack had no taste for tears. He breathed on the letter, and the sparkling drops that the reader let fall became beads of ice. The sailor hastily turned, and for a moment fancied he beheld the brilliant eyes of Captain Jack gazing upon him; but the next instant he saw only two glittering icicles, which had formed on the ropes.

The sea gulls flew in circles round the vessel; late as it was, they still hoped something might be thrown out. Captain Jack caught them by the long feathers of their wings, and they tumbled on the deck, and hopped stiffly about. "Creesh, creesh!" cried they; "it is that villain, Captain Jack, who has served us thus! Ugh! how stiff we are!"

Crick, crack! sounded through the air. It was Captain Jack laughing at them.

"How merry it is in winter!" he cried. "It is there my uncle, the Ice King, holds his court in the palace at the North Pole. The great icebergs come crashing to the very door to do him homage, and the white young lady bears dance the Polonaise so gracefully! We don't spend a moment in silly thought about anything--no! we frisk and caper about, and even my uncle comes down from his throne and hops around, as well as his age will permit! and there I have such glorious sport in the long moonlight nights!"

"Bur-r-r!" grumbled the north wind, sweeping by. "Thou hadst better hurry home, thou silly madcap! The sun is coming, and he is no friend of thine!"

"Many thanks!" cried Captain Jack again, with a graceful bow; "I see, truly, that my sport is over for to-night!" and he now looked about him with mischievous eyes, to see if there were not some last trick that he could play before he fled to his forest cave. But there was no time to lose, for already the round red sun, winking and blinking sleepily behind his bed curtains of red clouds, was rising from the sea; and, with a sudden leap, Captain Jack flung himself off the ship, and hastened away.

The river was all covered with ice; the little hares skipped over it; in the town everybody was bawling for water, and the pump handles were hard and fast; the Burgomaster had his nose tied up in brown paper and warm vinegar; the naughty people went about with cricks in their necks and colds in their heads; while every withered grass blade, every branch of tree and bush, and every pane in the windows, was covered with the beautiful, fantastic, glittering handiwork of CAPTAIN JACK FROST!

As the story ended, the door above suddenly opened, and the Herr Hartman himself came out; and certainly looked somewhat surprised at seeing his good friend sitting there on the lower step.

"Why, my dear Herr Ekstein!" he exclaimed. "Is anything the matter?" and he hastened down the steps.

The literary man jumped up, and saw the Herr holding out his hand.

"Nay, then, my good friend!" he exclaimed, "I have been hearing the merriest tale!"

"But come in! come in!" cried the Herr Hartman. "Some of our friends are with us; let us spend a sociable evening together."

With a pleased and happy face the literary man entered the house, and the warm room, where the company were assembled; and, amid peals of laughter, related both the story of Captain Jack, and that of the sleigh-ride to Ol?'s, with the deuse himself as driver!

THE CABBAGES;

OR, THE DISCREET WIFE.

IN a remote part of Swabia there once dwelt a rich peasant, who was noted in all the neighborhood for his shrewdness. No one could get the better of him in a bargain, and no man managed his farm with such extraordinary success. His crops always seemed to flourish when the whole country round was desolated with the blight; his hay was sure to be got in the very night before a flood swept away the ricks of his neighbors; his cows gave the most milk, his oxen were the fattest, and his fields the most fruitful of the whole valley. In short, Wise Peter, for so he was called, became wealthy year after year, in a way which made his less fortunate neighbors shake their heads enviously, declaring "that such marvellous good luck could only be obtained by a bargain with the Evil One, or the assistance of gnomes." Whenever any of these stories came to the ears of Wise Peter, he would smile and say, "Ah! who knows, indeed!" but not a word more would he utter.

Among his other possessions, Wise Peter owned an immense field, which was planted entirely with cabbages. If one stood in the middle and gazed around, nothing but cabbages and more cabbages grew, as far as the eye could reach; and as the fat burghers of the town were all extremely fond of sauerkraut, these were a source of great profit.

It happened that Peter had a wife as well known for her folly and empty head, as her husband for his sagacity; and as he was rightly named Wise Peter, so was she equally well called Silly Catharine. How the two came to be united was a mystery to every one; for certain it is, that Silly Catharine had nothing to recommend her to a sensible man, but her being young and pretty.

Now Silly Catharine, who was as witless as she could well be, was fonder of cabbages than anything else in the world. She ate sauerkraut for breakfast, cabbage soup for dinner, fried cabbage for supper, and boiled cabbage for a noonday treat. Not even the constant scoldings of her husband, or the jeers of the neighbors at her folly, could distress her in any great degree, if she had only plenty of cabbages.

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