HANS AND THE WONDERFUL FLOWER

Something to Find Out.—Why the elf gave Hans a sack of precious stones.

I. WHY HANS WENT TO FIND THE BROWN HERB

In a far-away country there were once some hills that were full of elves. They often played queer tricks upon the people they did not like, but sometimes they were kind.

This is the story of how an elf once helped a little shepherd boy named Hans, who tended the King's sheep. Hans lived with his mother in a wee house, with a tiny garden about it. All they owned in the world was the white goat that gave them milk to drink. Every day Hans drove the King's flocks to the valley, and watched them, and tended the lambs. When night came he drove them back to the sheepfold again.

Then, do you think that he played? No, indeed. All day his good mother had been busy spinning and cooking and sweeping; so Hans, when his day's work was done, cut the wood and milked the white goat and weeded the garden. They were busy and happy—Hans and his mother—but they were also very poor.

One day, when it was winter, the good mother grew so ill that she could not lift her head from the pillow. An old, old woman, who came to take care of her, said to Hans, “There is only one thing that will cure your mother; it is the little brown herb that grows at the top of the moun-tain. But I am afraid that you cannot get it, be-cause the mountain is covered with ice and snow.”

“Oh, I don't mind the snow,” cried Hans. “I will gladly go and find the little brown herb if you will take good care of my mother while I look for it. I don't know how long I shall be gone.”

So Hans kissed his good mother, strapped on his snow-shoes, took a strong stick, and started out to find the brown herb. Oh, but it was cold! The wind whistled through the tree-tops, and the sleet blew in Hans's face. The drifts of snow were so deep in some places that they nearly covered him; but on he tramped, pushing and poking about with his stick.

“I must find the brown herb!” Hans said over and over to himself.

Up the mountain he climbed to the very top, until he could see the river down below him. The crust on the snow was thick and hard, and his fingers ached. But he pounded with his stick, and stamped with his feet until he had broken through the crust to see if he could find the brown herb.

II. THE WONDERFUL FLOWER AND THE KIND ELF

All at once Hans came upon the most beautiful flower you ever saw, growing up through the snow. It was so white that it sparkled like a hundred snow crystals, and it had the sweetest perfume, like the breath of all the flowers of summer. It seemed to say, “Pick me, little boy.”

Now Hans loved flowers more than anything else in the world. He reached out his hand for this beautiful one, but just then he seemed to see quite plainly his poor mother, waiting so ill at home. A little voice inside him said, “No, no, Hans; wait until you come back. Find the brown herb first.”

So Hans left the beautiful flower and trudged on farther, poking about under the snow. Just as it was growing dark he found the brown herb and put it joyfully into his pocket. He was hurrying home down the mountain side, when he remembered the white flower.

“Now I may pick it.” he said to himself. But when he went back to the place where the wonderful flower had been, it was not there at all. In its place stood a wee little brown elf, bowing and taking off his hat to Hans.

“Don't be afraid.” he said to the boy, smiling all over his wrinkled little face. “Come right in.”

Then the strangest thing happened. The side of the mountain opened wide like a door! The little elf skipped along in front, to show the way, and Hans found himself in the most beautiful castle you ever saw. It was all so bright that it dazzled his eyes. From room to room they went, and in every room were piles and piles of precious stones—emeralds and rubies and pearls!

“Help yourself, Hans.” said the elf, as he brought out a large sack. “Take as many of these precious stones as you like. A boy who is as good to his mother as you are deserves a present.”

So Hans began to fill the sack with the emeralds, rubies, and pearls, and the elf kept telling him to take more and more. At last the sack was full, and suddenly Hans found himself in the snow again. He could not see even a crack in the ice to show where the little elf had stood.

The bag of precious stones, which Hans had slung over his shoulder, was heavy, but his heart was light, and he went home as fast as his snow-shoes would carry him.

“Mother, mother!” he cried, as he ran in and threw his arms about her. “See!” and he emptied the sack upon the floor. “We are not poor any more! And see!” he went on, as he pulled the brown herb from his pocket.

They made a broth with the brown herb, and as soon as the good mother tasted it she was quite well again. And the wonderful sack of jewels never grew empty as long as they lived.

—Carolyn S. Bailey