Part 16 (1/2)
At last he bethought him of riding upon the spear, as a child bestrides a stick. A wonderful change now came over the weapon. It ran on as though it had been a fleet horse, and thus mounted the messenger rode on without ceasing until he descended the mountain and came into the city, where he excited the wonder, delight, and laughter of the worthy burghers.
Although he had endured some trouble in the early part of his journey, the messenger thought he had been amply compensated at the close, and he comforted himself by making up his mind that in all future journeys he was destined to perform he would bestride his nimble spear. His good intentions were, however, frustrated. Rubezahl had played his game, and had had all the amus.e.m.e.nt he desired with the poor knave. Accordingly he scampered away, leaving in his place the real spear, which never played any more tricks, but, after the old fas.h.i.+on of other spears, accompanied its master in a becoming and orderly style.
A poor woman, who got her living by gathering herbs, once went, accompanied by her two children, to the mountains, carrying with her a basket in which to gather the plants, which she was in the habit of disposing of to the apothecaries. Having chanced to discover a large tract of land covered with such plants as were most esteemed, she busied herself so in filling her basket that she lost her way, and was troubled to find out how to get back to the path from which she had wandered. On a sudden a man dressed like a peasant appeared before her, and said--
”Well, good woman, what is it you are looking for so anxiously? and where do you want to go?”
”Alas!” replied she, ”I am a poor woman who has neither bit nor sup, for which reason I am obliged to wander to gather herbs, so that I may buy bread for myself and my hungry children. I have lost my way, and cannot find it. I pray you, good man, take pity on me, and lead me out of the thicket into the right path, so that I may make the best of my way home.”
”Well, my good woman,” replied Rubezahl, for it was he, ”make yourself happy. I will show you the way. But what good are those roots to you?
They will be of little benefit. Throw away this rubbish, and gather from this tree as many leaves as will fill your basket; you will find them answer your purpose much better.”
”Alas!” said the woman, ”who would give a penny for them? They are but common leaves, and good for nothing.”
”Be advised, my good woman,” said Rubezahl; ”throw away those you have got, and follow me.”
He repeated his injunction over and over again in vain, until he got tired, for the woman would not be persuaded. At last, he fairly laid hold of the basket, threw the herbs out by main force, and supplied their place with leaves from the surrounding bushes. When he had finished, he told the woman to go home, and led her into the right path.
The woman, with her children and her basket, journeyed on some distance; but they had not gone far before she saw some valuable herbs growing by the wayside. No sooner did she perceive them than she longed to gather them, for she hoped that she should obtain something for them, while the leaves with which her basket was crammed were, she thought, good for nothing. She accordingly emptied her basket, throwing away the rubbish, as she esteemed it, and having filled it once more with roots, journeyed on to her dwelling at Kirschdorf.
As soon as she arrived at her home she cleansed the roots she had gathered from the earth which clung around them, tied them neatly together, and emptied everything out of the basket. Upon doing this, something glittering caught her eye, and she commenced to make a careful examination of the basket. She was surprised to discover several ducats sticking to the wickerwork, and these were clearly such of the leaves as remained of those which she had so thoughtlessly thrown away on the mountains.
She rejoiced at having preserved what she had, but she was again sorely vexed that she had not taken care of all that the mountain spirit had gathered for her. She hastened back to the spot where she had emptied the basket, in hopes of finding some of the leaves there; but her search was in vain--they had all vanished.
THE HUNTER HACKELNBERG AND THE TUT-OSEL.
The Wild Huntsman, Hackelnberg, traverses the Hartz mountains and the Thuringian forest, but he seems mostly to prefer the Hakel, from which place he derives his name, and especially the neighbourhood of Dummburg. Ofttimes is he heard at night, in rain and storm, when the moonlight is breaking by fits and starts through the troubled sky, following with his hounds the shadows of the wild beasts he slew in days of yore. His retinue generally proceed from the Dummburg, straight over the Hakel to the now desolate village of Ammendorf.
He has only been seen by a few children, who, having been born on a Sunday, had the power of seeing spirits. Sometimes he met them as a lonely huntsman, accompanied by one solitary hound. Sometimes he was seen in a carriage drawn by four horses, and followed by six dogs of the chase. But many have heard the low bellowing of his hounds, and the splas.h.i.+ng of his horse's feet in the swamps of the moor; many have heard his cry of ”Hu! hu!” and seen his a.s.sociate and forerunner--the Tut-Osel, or Tooting Ursula.
Once upon a time three wanderers seated themselves in the neighbourhood of the Dummburg. The night was already far advanced. The moon gleamed faintly through the chasing clouds. All around was still.
Suddenly they heard something rush along over their heads. They looked up, and an immense screech-owl flew before them.
”Ha!” cried one of them, ”there is the Tut-Osel! Hackelnberg, the Wild Huntsman, is not far off.”
”Let us fly,” exclaimed the second, ”before the spirits overtake us.”
”We cannot fly,” said the third; ”but you have nothing to fear if you do not irritate him. Lay yourselves down upon your faces when he pa.s.ses over us. But, remember, you must not think of addressing Hackelnberg, lest he treat you as he treated the shepherd.”
The wanderers laid themselves under the bushes. Presently they heard around them the rus.h.i.+ng by, as it were, of a whole pack of hounds, and high in the air above them they heard a hollow sound like that of a hunted beast of the forest, and ever and anon they trembled at hearing the fearful-toned voice of the Wild Huntsman uttering his well-known ”Hu! hu!” Two of the wanderers pressed close to the earth, but the third could not resist his inclination to have a peep at what was going on. He looked up slantingly through the branches, and saw the shadow of a huntsman pa.s.s directly over him.
Suddenly all around was hushed. The wanderers rose slowly and timidly, and looked after Hackelnberg; but he had vanished, and did not return.
”But who is the Tut-Osel?” inquired the second wanderer, after a long pause.