CHAPTER FIRST.

ABOUT A MILL, AND THE OLD MILLER WHO BECAME TIRED AND SOLD IT TO TONY'S FATHER, AND OF THE ADVICE GIVEN TO THE NEW OCCUPANT.

F
or many long years there once stood a solitary mill. It was in a valley between two high mountains. The stream that turned the great wheel was so strong and rapid, that its current never ceased the year through. Even in the hottest summer weather, when all other mills had to stop for want of water, or in the depth of winter, when other mill-streams were frozen over, this same mill could go on, ever working, and never standing still.

For this reason people brought their grain from far and near, even from the city on the farthest side of the lake which received the waters of the stream.

Now it came to pass the old miller grew weary of the old mill, and as he had made a handsome fortune by his industry, he determined to sell it and go to the city, there to spend his days in a more social way, and of use to his fellow-men. After having agreed with a purchaser, and received payment, he delivered the key to him with these words—

"Friend, you have paid me honorably, and I must give you a bit of good advice into the bargain. You may be visited sometimes by strange persons of very small stature, who will ask favors of you. Follow my counsel, and oblige them in what they request. You will find it for your good in doing so." Then the old miller bade him good-by, and went his way.

The new miller took possession of the place, with his wife and only child, whose name was Tony.

Now Tony was a good boy, but very fond of playing, and in the winter season nothing delighted him more than to go a skating with the neighbors' children.

This his father was very willing he should do, because he believed it to be useful in strengthening his limbs.

Here is a picture of Tony skating, but you see he has fallen down flat on his back; but he never minds trifles, he will be up in a moment.

Tony's father was very active, industrious, and exceedingly clever at his business, of a frugal turn, and his wife also a good manager; no wonder that they soon became prosperous.

Half a year had passed away without his hearing or seeing any thing of the little people the old miller had mentioned at parting; but at last, one morning as he was standing outside the mill, a little woman appeared before him so suddenly that he started in surprise. With a small clear voice she spoke.

"Good-morning, neighbor. I came to ask you to open your sluice-gates at noon, so that your mill may stop for half an hour. We have had our large wash, and shall empty our tubs, which will cause a flood that might injure your mill. Farewell! and pray attend to my friendly warning."

CHAPTER SECOND.

HOW THE MILLER BEHAVED TO HIS KIND NEIGHBORS, AND ABOUT THE RUSHING TORRENT WHICH CAME VERY NEAR DESTROYING THE OLD MILL.

T
he miller knew not what to think. He had never heard of these neighbors before. He had lately been in the upper valley to cut firewood for the winter season, and had seen no trace of inhabitants in the silent gloomy forest. "Besides," thought he, "wherever they are, and if they have ever so great a wash, what need is there to stop my mill? No, no, it will not do, careful neighbor; there is a great deal of meal to be ground to-day, and we must lose no time." He went to work, and forgot the warning.

At dinner, however, one of his men came in hastily, crying, "Master! master! has not the little water-maid given you notice, as she always did to my old master? She and her company are having their large wash and have been emptying their water-tubs. Hark! how the stream roars and rages! and the wheel turns as if driven by a hurricane! The sky is clear, there has been no rain, yet look at the rushing torrent."

The miller, alarmed, looked out of the window. His face became red with anger, and he said, "What did I know about the water-witch, and her abominable washing-day? Spiteful, mischievous hag!"

In an hour or two the stream resumed its usual course, and subsided to its former level; but the wheels and works of the mill were damaged, and the miller suffered from the expense of repairs, and from the delay it occasioned.

After some time the mill went on clacking and grinding corn as well as ever, when one day the miller stood looking at his meadow, thinking to himself, "The grass looks very green, and the weather is very fine; this meadow must be mown to-morrow."

As he thus stood and looked, two airy figures like young girls appeared, so transparent that the miller fancied that he could see the grass through them as they floated over it, and a gentle voice said, "Good day to you, miller! We beg that thou wilt allow us to dance this evening upon this meadow."

Though much astonished, the miller quickly replied in a cross tone, "How! dance upon my meadow! tread down my grass!"

The voice answered "We will not do thy grass any harm; we and our friends dance so lightly that we hardly touch the tips, of thy long grass."

The miller replied sharply, "Why then ask me? If you do not trample my grass, you may dance all the year round for all me."

"Thank you," replied the airy creature; "we only beg, for thy own good, that thou wilt not mow thy grass until a shower of rain has wet it after our dance. Remember this."

They then vanished like a thin vapor.

"Foolish people!" cried the miller; "did I ever hear such nonsense? Must I put off my hay-making till it rains? We may not have such fine dry weather again during the summer. I shall send my men to cut it down to-morrow." He went back to the mill and gave his orders, but said not a word to anybody about what he had heard and seen. When Tony, the miller's son, was going to bed that night, he looked out of the window, and cried to his father—

"There is a strange man with a lantern in the meadow, full of pale lights, dancing about, sometimes forming a wide circle, now dispersing in all directions, then mingling confusedly together."

And the latter said, "These can be nothing but jack-o-lanterns, or wandering Willies. They come out of the boggy ground, and are driven about by the winds. Wo to the unlucky traveller who takes them for a guide!" After looking at the meadow awhile, they all went to bed.

Next day the men obeyed the master's orders, and mowed the grass. The weather was so fine that the hay was made in a few days, and brought safely into the barn. No sooner, however, had the cattle begun to eat of it, than they were all seized with a mortal sickness. In a few weeks the stalls were empty; and even the sheep and pigs, which had been turned out to graze in the meadow, shared the same fate. The miller stormed and raved, and accused his servants of neglect, and was so ill-humored that his wife and son dared not say a word to him. He set out for the city to find the old miller, to complain to him of his losses. The good old man told him at once that he must have forgotten the warning he gave him at parting, and have disobliged or have been unfriendly in some way towards his little neighbors; advised him to burn his hay, and to beware in future of showing ill-nature or a disobliging spirit towards the little shadowy people.

The miller went home and followed this advice, and burned his hay. Then he borrowed money to buy more cattle, which thrived well and were very profitable; he worked diligently at the mill, and bade his wife be more economical in the kitchen; but to no poor man or child who ventured to knock at his gate did he open his hand or heart in charity.

One day a very diminutive man, dressed in brown clothes, with skin of the same color, knocked at the door of the mill and asked for a little fine meal. The miller looked black, and bade him be gone.

"I ask only for a little, a very little; you see my bag will not hold more than a handful or two."

More angry as the brown man continued his entreaty, the miller replied—

"I will not give you one atom."

"Do have a little pity," implored the little man; "I must have some meal, and I must have it as a gift, or I would pay for it a thousand-fold."

The iron-hearted miller became furious, notwithstanding the little man's earnest begging, and he loosed the great dog, and sent him to drive him away.

As the little man was passing the tall garden-hedge, Tony slipped out at the back-door, and crept softly to the hedge, saying—

"Wait a minute, and give me your bag."

The little man gave him the bag, and Tony ran to the store-room, where there were several sacks, and filled the man's bag with the finest and best meal he could find. The man received it with joy, and thanked Tony heartily for his kindness, and said to him, "If you are ever in distress, and want help, come to the oak spring."

He nodded his head, and Tony saw him take the steep path up the mountains.

"Poor little man!" said Tony to himself, "perhaps he has a hungry little child at home, for whom he wants to make some porridge. It was very wrong of me to go and take father's meal out of the store-room without his knowledge; yet the little man's need was so great, and he begged so earnestly, that it would have been a greater injustice not to have taken pity on him. I will go to my mother and ask her to give me less for my breakfast and supper, until the meal is replaced."

Summer was nearly over when one day a water-spout burst in, the upper valley, which caused such a sudden and terrible flood, that the miller and his family had only time to save their lives by flight.

When the waters had subsided, the miller contrived a hovel in the only corner left standing of the mill; and here, with his wife and Tony, abode in the extreme of poverty.

The good boy was grieved for his parents' misery, but chiefly for his poor mother, who was now unable to leave her wretched bed of moss and leaves.

Two goats had escaped the general destruction. These Tony took care of, and drove them out to feed upon the mountains every day. Having set out with them one morning, he took the same hill-path by which the brown man had gone, until he came to a large oak-tree, under whose roots he perceived a cave, which appeared to have been hollowed out by a spring. At the entrance Tony sat down beneath the tree, and suffered his goats to browse and skip about at pleasure.

"Oh!" said he, "if father only was more cheerful and mother quite well, all would be right, and although we have no mill, and only dry bread and goats' milk, I should be quite content."

With these thoughts in his head he fell asleep. He had not slept long before he heard his name called, and on opening his eyes he saw far into the cave, and at its entrance stood the little brown man, who, nodding kindly, said—

"Art thou come at last? I will show thee my house and garden, which will, I am sure, please thee."

Tony followed the little brown man, and after going on a long way, they came to a passage lined with smooth stone. As they proceeded the light became stronger, and they next entered another, the walls of which were formed of large iron plates. Passing through this they reached another lined with bright sheets of copper, which led to a large hall with a roof and pillars of burnished silver. From this hall a pair of folding-doors gave access to a splendid room, with walls, roof, and floor of solid gold, and windows of transparent crystal. The next room was covered with red rubies, having windows formed of large diamonds.

Tony was led from one chamber to another, all glittering with precious stones, sapphires, topazes, emeralds, and amethysts. Last of all they came to a vestibule, with a dome, and pillars of the brightest polished steel.

"My brothers will rejoice to see you," said the little man. "Come into the garden."

It was enclosed with a fence of silver wire, curiously wrought, and the flowers were beautiful beyond description. The trees too were loaded with fruit equally new to him.

In one part of the garden a number of children were playing. They piled up heaps of pebbles, jumped over them, and laughed heartily if one did not spring clear over, or tumbled down. When Tony came near they cried out, "Welcome, Tony!" and shook his hand, and looked kindly in his face, gathered some fruit, and led him to the other side of the garden, where there was a grove of trees which bore gold and silver fruit. These trees looked just like those the angels bring to children on Christmas-eve. The children shook the trees, and the fruit fell off till the ground was all covered; then they gathered it up and offered Tony an equal share with themselves, and gave him a diamond needle, and instructed him to string them into a necklace, and threw it over his shoulders. Then they presented him with a sweet orange for his mother, and a pomegranate for his father, which they said must be opened very carefully. "He will know what use to make of its contents," continued they. "Tell him we send it as a recompense for the meal which thou gavest us out of his store."

Tony modestly inquired if he might keep the necklace. They replied, that it was given him to do as he pleased with; but Tony thought it would make his father and mother rich again, so he resolved in his heart that he would give it to them.

Then he took leave of his kind little friends, and his conductor led him back through the passages to the entrance, and bade him farewell.

When Tony reached home his mother asked him where he had been, for, said she, "We have been seeking thee these three days, and thy father is gone out once more, almost in despair of ever finding thee. But come here, Tony, and let me see those shining things upon thy neck."

Just then his father entered. "Ah! Tony, where hast thou been, my boy? I thought thee lost to us forever."

Tony looked at his parents and then at the shining necklace, which he had almost forgotten, and thought, "Then it is not all a dream! Dear father, I have been with the little brown men of the mountain, and they gave me these shining stones, and here is a present for you," taking the pomegranate from his pocket; "you will know how to use it; and this is for you, dear mother," handing her the orange. His mother received and ate it with a great relish. Not so the father; he examined it with suspicion, and asked who this little brown man was.

"Why, don't you remember, father, the little man who came to the mill and begged some meal? You would not give him any, and drove him away, but I was so sorry for him, that I filled his bag out of the finest we had in the store-house, and told mother about it, and if I did wrong I am very sorry."

"And does the brown man send me this as a present?" said the conscience-stricken father, almost dropping the fruit upon the ground; "there may be something hidden in it to destroy me."

"Oh, no, father! they are too good to take revenge; they are all love and kindness, depend upon it. They send you this present for your good, I am sure. Pray do open it."

"Yes, indeed," said the wife, "I know it will bring in good fortune; I feel better, much better, since I ate the orange."

"Well then, I will open the fruit," said the husband. As he spoke he broke the rind, when there rolled out upon the floor a large number of polished diamonds.

Now the miller was able to rebuild his mill and do a great deal of good to the poor, and was once more a rich and thriving man; no longer hard-hearted, but kind and benevolent. Not a poor family was to be found, for to all who wanted he gave employment, thereby giving happiness to all.

Tony had been taught to read in his early childhood, and might have been often seen, before the acquaintance with the little brown neighbors, sitting in front of his father's cottage, reading. Among his amusements now, he was frequently engaged in taking some of the children of the neighborhood to ride in his neat little chaise, with his beautiful striped horse.

He had now become older, and as he was fond of learning he was put to the best schools, and grew up to be a man having the true love of man in his heart, and happy to share the bounties of Providence with all that were in need; and he was blessed with more happiness than generally falls to the lot of men at this day.