the small space as I could, so that if big trees came from my seeds they
might not stand in one another's way, but might all enjoy the air and the
sunshine that I was so thankful for. I saw my seeds sprout, but what
became of them afterwards I did not live to see. Two years after I sowed
them a famine fell upon us. The poor weavers who lived in the mountain
village had all they could do to nourish wife and child. There was little
left for the Poor-house. As I was already ill I could not stand the
misery, and I was the first to die of the dreadful fever caused by
hunger. Only one of the blind women, and the dull-witted one followed the
sack in which I was buried--for who would have paid for a coffin? The
last two nuts I divided with the old women. Each one of us had a half,
and how gladly we ate the little morsel, for even a taste of any dainty
seemed good to us, after we had lived on nothing but bread and potatoes.
From here I watched the other nuts grow to be trees. All four had
straight stems and thick crowns. Under one of them that stood near a
spring, which is now called the Fresh Spring, an old carpenter who came
to the Poor-house built a bench.'

"Here another angel interrupted the little narrator with the question:
'Do you mean the nut-tree in Dorbstadt?' and, receiving an answer in the
affirmative, he cried: 'I, Master, I am that old carpenter, and during my
last summers, I had no greater pleasure than to sit by the Fresh Spring
under the nut-tree, and while I smoked my pipe to think of my old wife,
whom I was soon to find again with you. In the autumn, too, many a dry
brown leaf found its way among the more expensive tobacco ones.'

"'And I,' cried a former peddler, breaking into the carpenter's story, 'I
assuredly have not forgotten the nut-tree, where I always set down my
pack when my shoulders were nearly broken, and under whose shade I used
to rest my weary limbs before entering the village.'

"'I, too! How often have I stopped under the spreading branches of that
tree on a hot summer day and found refreshment!' cried a former
post-messenger of Dorbstadt. A porter who had also lived there added his
praises.

"'But the nut-trees were cut down many years ago,' the latter added.

"'I saw it,' cried the spirit of little Hannele, and one heard from her
tone how she deplored it. 'They were felled when the Poor-house was given
up. 'But the great Son of God has now heard what he wished to know.'

"'No, no,' the Saviour answered, 'I should still like to know what became
of the wood of these trees.'

"The voices of several angels were heard at the same moment, for many of
the poor weavers of Dorbstadt were to be found in the Heavenly Kingdom.
St. Peter, however, bade them to be quiet, and permitted only the one who
had last entered the Abode of the Blessed to speak.

"'I was the village doctor,' this one began, 'and I quitted the earth
because I, too, fell a victim to the pestilence of which many of the poor
people were dying, and against which I fought with all my powers, but
with small success. I can tell you all that you wish to know, my Master,
for, during forty-five years, I devoted my humble services to the sick
poor there. When Hannele died in our Poor-house--it happened before my
time--the misery was even greater than at present. The weavers were
ground down by the large manufacturers, until an energetic man built a
factory in our village, and paid them better wages. As the population
then increased, and consequently the number of patients, space was
wanting in which to house them, for the dilapidated Poor-house--whither
they were carried--was no longer large enough to accommodate them all.
Therefore the parish, aided by the owner of the factory, built a hospital
for the whole district, and the site of the old Poor-house was chosen for
it. The beautiful nut-trees which Hannele had planted had to be
destroyed. I was sorry to be obliged to give the order, but we needed the
ground where they stood. As we had to be economical in everything, big
and little, we had planks sawn out of the trees for our use.'

"At this point another spirit interrupted the physician. 'I have lain in
one of the beds made from the wood. At home I slept on a bundle of straw,
and very uncomfortable it was when I was shaken by the fever. In the
hospital all was different, and when I lay in my comfortable bed, I felt
as if I were already in Heaven.'

"'And I,' cried another broad-winged angel, 'for ten years I walked with
the crutches that were made for me from the nut-tree by the Fresh Spring,
and old Conrad, below on the earth, is still using them.'

"'And mine also,' another continued, 'were of the same wood. I had lain
for a long time on my back; but after I got them, I learned to walk with
them and they enabled me to stand before the loom, and to earn bread once
more for my family. That man yonder from Hochdorf has had the same
experience, and the wooden leg of William, the toll-gate keeper, who
entered here shortly before me, was made of wood from the nut-tree.'

"'I owe it a debt of gratitude, too, but for an entirely different
service,' said a beautiful angel, as it bowed its crowned head reverently
before the Son of God. 'My lot below was a very hard one. I was early
left a widow, and I supported my children entirely by the work of my
hands. By dint of great effort I brought them up well, and my three sons
grew to be brave men, who took care of themselves, and helped their
mother. But all three, my Master, were lost to me, taken away by the
unfathomable wisdom of the Father. Two fell in war, the third was killed
by the machinery while at his work. That broke my strength, and when they
brought me to the hospital I was on the verge of despair, and life seemed
a greater burden than I could bear. Your image, my Saviour, had just been
finished by a sculptor, who had carved it from the wood of the nut-tree
by the Fresh Spring. They put it up opposite to my bed. It represented
you, my Lord, on the cross, and your head bowed in agony, with its crown
of thorns, was a very sorrowful sight. Yet I paid but small heed to it.
One morning, however--it was the anniversary of the death of my two dear
sons, who had lost their lives, fighting bravely side by side for their
Fatherland--on that morning the sun fell upon your sad face, and bleeding
hands pierced by the nails, and then I reflected how bitterly you had
suffered, though innocent, that you might redeem us, and how your mother
must have felt to lose such a child. Then a voice asked me if I had any
right to complain, when the Son of God himself had willingly endured such
torments for our sake, and I felt compelled to answer no, and determined
then to bear patiently whatever might be laid upon me, a poor, sinful
woman. Thenceforth, my Lord, was your image my consolation and, since the
wood of which it was made came from the tree planted by Hannele near the
Fresh Spring, I owe beyond doubt the better years that followed, and the
joy of being with you in Paradise, my Saviour, to the nuts which that
condemned woman gave to the child.'

"Humbly she bowed her head again. The Son of God turned to St. Peter,
saying: 'Well, Peter?'

"The latter called to the guardians of Hell: 'Let her go free, the gates
of Heaven are open to her. How rich and manifold, O Lord! is the fruit
that springs from the smallest gift offered in true love!'

"'You are right,' answered the Saviour, gently, and turned away."

The colonel had talked for a longer time than was allowed him by his
doctor, and he needed rest. When he appeared again at supper time, in
order to help us eat our Christmas carps, he found little Hermy standing
with Karl and Kurt before the fire, and he noticed how his favourite's
eyes rested with pleasure on the nuts which he had bought for his
grandmother; and how the older boys, who were only too prone to tease
their younger brother, treated him with a certain tenderness, as if they
had something to make up for.

At table we overheard Kurt say to Karl: "Little Hermy's present for
grandmother was not a bad idea," to which Karl answered quickly: "I am
going to put away some of my nuts to-morrow, and plant them in the
spring."

"To make a pair of crutches for me, or in order that you may go to
Heaven?" asked the colonel.

The boy blushed, and could find no answer; but I came to his rescue, and
replied: "No, his trees shall remind us of you, Colonel, and of your
stories. When we give, we will, in remembrance of you, give in all love
and willingness, and when we receive, even the smallest gift, we will
only ask in what spirit it was offered."


THE END



ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS FOR THE ENTIRE SHORT WORKS OF GEORG EBERS:

Absence of suffering is not happiness
Arrogant wave of the hand, and in an instructive tone
At my age we count it gain not to be disappointed
Buy indugence for sins to be committed in the future
Caress or a spank from you--each at the proper time
Clothes the ugly truth as with a pleasing garment
Couple seemed to get on so perfectly well without them
Death itself sometimes floats 'twixt cup and lip'
Exceptional people are destined to be unhappy in this world
Had laid aside what we call nerves
Honest anger affords a certain degree of enjoyment
If speech be silver, silence then is gold!
Laughing before sunrise causes tears at evening
Like a clock that points to one hour while it strikes another
Mirrors were not allowed in the convent
Ovid, 'We praise the ancients'
Pays better to provide for people's bodies than for their brains
People see what they want to see
Repeated the exclamation: "Too late!" and again, "Too late!
Seems most charming at the time we are obliged to resign it
To-morrow could give them nothing better than to-day
Who watches for his neighbour's faults has a hundred sharp eyes
Who gives great gifts, expects great gifts again
Wrath has two eyes--one blind, the other keener than a falcon's