ORCOLRED ONE 6I*~ INOt
CARL DINES ALONE.
THE SELFISH MAN:
THE WORLD'S TEACHING.
G. ROUTLEDGE & CO., FARRINGDON STREET.
NEW YORK: 18, BEEKMAN STREET.
SAVILL AND EDWARDS, PRINTERS, CHANDOS STREET,
THE SELFISH MAN.
CARL in-he-rit-ed his fa-ther's farm, with all its herds and.
stores of corn. E-ve-ry barn and stack-yard was teem-
ing with a-bun-dance; yet, strange to say, Carl had no eyes to
see all this, for his sole de-sire seem-ed to be to a-mass more;
for he work-ed day and night, as if he had been the poor-est
pea-sant in the vil-lage. He was known as the least ge-ne-rous
farm-er in the coun-try, and no man work-ed for him who could
get a liv-ing else-where. His house-hold ser-vants were con-
ti-nu-al-ly leav-ing him in dis-gust, for they were half-starv-ed.
This ve-ry lit-tle af-fect-ed him; for he had a kind, good sis-ter,
A-mil, who was an ex-cel-lent house-keep-er, and was con-ti-nu-
-al-ly look-ing af-ter his comfort, al-though she tri-ed, by her
o-pen-hand-ed-ness, to make up for her bro-ther's par-si-mo-ny.
But he was too sharp to let her do much.
Carl was such a cun-ning fel-low that he al-ways di-ned
a-lone, be-cause he made sure of a hot din-ner, and had no one
to help but him-self; and his sis-ter, hav-ing had her lit-tle bit
of din-ner, could most con-ve-ni-ent-ly wait up-on him. He
said, he did not like to keep any one wait-ing, as he was so
un-cer-tain; but he ne-ver miss-ed the hour fix-ed for his din-
ner to be ready. So Carl was cun-ning, which is a ta-lent to be
~ cz5c 7
THE GNOME PROMISES TO REAP.
A-mil had a suit-or for her hand who was well to do in the
world; but Carl al-ways treat-ed him cold-ly, as he fear-ed to lose
his sis-ter, who was his ser-vant with-out wages. You may
guess that they were not the best of friends, as the mo-tive was
too ap-pa-rent to es-cape the eyes of the most un-ob-ser-vant.
But Carl did not want friends: he al-ways said that he car-
ri-ed his friends in his purse: but, a-las! they were his great-est
One morn-ing, he was stand-ing, cal-cu-la-ting his pro-fits
from a field of corn that was wa-ving its gold-en pro-duce
a-round him, when he felt the earth un-du-late be-neath his
feet. Why, what an e-nor-mous mole this must be!" said he,
as he mo-ved off the spot and pre-pa-red to strike the crea-ture
the mo-ment it made its ap-pear-ance: but the earth roll-ed
o-ver in such large mass-es, that it up-set good mas-ter Carl,
who mea-sur-ed his length on the ground, not a lit-tle dis-
may-ed. But his dis-may was won-der-ful-ly in-creas-ed when
he saw rise from the earth, not a mole, but a gnome of most
cu-ri-ous as-pect, dress-ed out in a fine crim-son dou-blet, with
a stream-ing fea-ther from his cap. He ga-zed up-on Carl with
a look which bo-ded him no good.
"How d'ye do, farm-er?" said he, with a sar-don-ic grin
which did not par-ti-cu-lar-ly please Carl. What, in hea-ven's
name, are you?" gasp-ed Carl.
No-thing in hea-ven's name," re-pli-ed the gnome, for I
am a spi-rit of e-vil."--" I hope you do not in-tend me a-ny
harm," said Carl, with a most hum-ble look.
"Well! I re-al-ly don't know. I on-ly in-tend to reap
your corn by moon-light to-night, as my hor-ses, though they
are su-per-na-tu-ral, eat a most su-per-na-tu-ral lot of corn, and
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CA \ I S (ITNNIN TI1OLUGI'T.
which I ge-ne-ral-ly col-lect from those who can best af-ford to
spare it."-" Oh, my dear sir!" scream-ed Carl, "I am the
poor-est farm-er in this dis-trict, and I have a sis-ter to keep,
and have had se-vere loss-es."
"Why, you are Carl Grip-pen-hau-sen, are you not?" said
the gnome.-" Yes, sir," stam-mer-ed Carl.
"Those large stacks of corn, stand-ing like a lit-tle town,
are yours, are they not?" said the gnome.-"Yes, sir," a-gain
"That mag-ni-fi-cent show of tur-nips, and that long sweep
of a-ra-ble land, and those throng-ing herds and flocks that
co-ver the moun-tain's side, are yours al-so, I be-lieve ?"-" Yes,
sir," said Carl, with a trem-bling voice, hor-ri-fi-ed at the gnome's
cor-rect i-de-a of his pos-ses-si-ons.
"You a poor man! 0 fie!" said the gnome, sha-king his
fin-ger re-pro-ving-ly at the mi-se-ra-ble Carl; "if you are not
more care-ful not to tell fibs, I shall, with one sweep, make your
shock-ing sto-ries come true: fie! fie! fie!" With the last
"fie" down he sank in-to the earth; but the hole did not close
up; so Carl shout-ed his en-trea-ties for mer-cy down af-ter his
strange vi-si-tor, but he re-ceiv-ed no re-ply.
He wan-der-ed des-pond-ing-ly home: as he ap-proach-ed
it through the copse, he ob-serv-ed his sis-ter's sui-tor Wil-helm
chat-ting o-ver the gar-den wall with her. A thought struck
him-a self-ish one, you may be sure. Be-fore they had per-
ceiv-ed his ap-proach, he rush-ed for-ward and seiz-ed Wil-helm
by the hand in the most friend-ly man-ner, and, oh! won-der
of won-ders! ask-ed him in to din-ner with him. Of course, the
as-ton-ish-ed Wil-helm com-pli-ed with a ve-ry good grace.
Af-ter the meal, out came Car-lo's cun-ning i-de-a, to the
THE (+NOME FEEDS HtIS flORSES.
a-maze-ment of Wil-helm and his sis-ter. What do you think
it was? Why, no more nor less than to ex-change his large
field of corn just rea-dy to cut, for one of Wil-helm's with a
much less crop. Af-ter a deal of press-ing and joy-ous good
na-ture on his part, the cu-ri-ous bar-gain was com-ple-ted, and
Wil-helm de-part-ed a much rich-er man than he came.
Carl went to bed that night, hug-ging him-self up-on the
trans-fer that he had made to the ge-nu-ine heart-ed Wil-helm,
of the crop which was to be reap-ed at moon-light by the gnome,
for his ra-pa-ci-ous hor-ses.
His eyes o-pen-ed at the first peep of day; for the gnome's
vi-sit had haunt-ed his sleep. He hur-ri-ed on his clothes, and
went out in-to the fields to see the ef-fect of the gnome's night
har-vest: but, there stood the corn, un-du-la-ting in the ear-ly
morn-ing's breeze. Sure-ly," thought Carl, I must have
been dream-ing." With that, he walk-ed o-ver the hill to take
a view of the field for which he had ex-chan-ged his own
threat-en-ed crop; when, what was his hor-ror to see it near-ly
clear-ed of its pro-duce, and the hor-rid lit-tle gnome work-ing
a-way with the few last sheaves, which he was cast-ing down
in-to a deep, dark chasm of the earth!
"1Gra-ci-ous me what are you do-ing ?" cri-ed he: "I
thought you said that you were go-ing to reap yon-der field!"
"I said," re-pli-ed the gnome, that I was go-ing to take
your crop of corn. Now, that is Wil-helm's, or I o-ver-heard
wrong: is it not so?"
Yes, mi-se-ra-ble wretch that I am!" groan-ed Carl, who
sank on his knees to sup-pli-cate the gnome for mer-cy, who,
how-e-ver, threw down the last sheaf; which be-ing done, the
earth clo-sed up, leav-ing no ap-pear-ance of the place which had
swal-low-ed up the a-bun-dant crop. A 4
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THI I (; 0 1l:' LATE YTSTT.
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Now I have shut my sta-ble door, you see," said the gnome,
with a grin. Now I shall go and rest my-self: good morn-ing,
Carl." With that, he walk-ed a-way with a qui-et, sa-tis-fi-ed
Carl wan-der-ed a-bout, al-most dis-tract-ed, for-get-ting
e-ven his din-ner, un-til night-fall, when he re-turn-ed home,
re-fu-sing to an-swer his sis-ter's af-fec-ti-on-ate ques-ti-ons, but
walk-ed off sul-ki-ly to bed. He had scarce-ly pla-ced his
be-wil-der-ed head up-on his pil-low, when a voice a-rou-sed him,
say-ing, Carl, my good friend, I have come to have a lit-tle
talk with you; so wake up, and list-en."
He pop-ped his head out from un-der the clothes, and
be-held that his cham-ber was il-lu-mi-na-ted by a bright
light, which show-ed him the gnome sit-ting on the floor of the
room. "Ah! wretch!" ex-claim-ed he, "do you come to rob
me of my rest as well as my corn? Go! or I will wreak my
ven-ge-ance on you."
Come, come," said the gnome, laugh-ing, "that is ra-ther
too good! Do you not know, you stu-pid fel-low, that I am but
a sha-dow; that you may as well thrash the air, as to at-tempt
the same pro-cess with me? Be-sides, I am here to pro-mise you
un-bound-ed wealth; for you are a man after my own heart.
Are you not self-lov-ing and cun-ning to a mar-vel-lous de-gree?
List-en, then, my good Carl. Meet me to-mor-ii4 e-ven-ing,
be-fore the sun is down, and I will show you where a wealth of
gold is sto-red, which, in a-bun-dance, is be-yond the con-cep-
ti-on of the hu-man race. Get rid of your pal-try farm. The
fool who loves your sis-ter would be an ex-cel-lent vic-tim, as he
has friends who would as-sist him to take it off your hands;
al-though what he would give you is of lit-tle con-se-quence,
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CAR1L 8 1; 111, IAUN B~1ATH.
for the trea-sure that I will show you will make you dis-dain
the pal-try sum that you re-a-lize by such means. Good night!
plea-sant dreams!" The light fa-ded, and he was gone.
"De-light-ful!" said Carl. "Ah!" and Carl was in his first
The next day e-ve-ry bo-dy thought Carl mad, only his
na-tu-ral dis-po-si-ti-on made him stic-kle for the last coin in the
pay-ment from Wil-helm, who was too pleas-ed to come in-to the
ar-range-ment with him; on-ly he was ve-ry doubt-ful as to his
re-a-li-ty, so much was he sur-pri-sed. At last all was ar-ran-ged,.
and the mor-row was ap-point-ed for A-mil's wed-ding,-as, of
course, Wil-helm took her, for bet-ter or worse, with the farm.
Carl would not wait for that mor-row, but, af-ter kiss-ing his
sis-ter, left her in the hands of some re-la-ti-ons, and de-part-ed.
He found the gnome sit-ting on a stile, as the most na-tu.ral
"You are as punc-tu-al as the clock, Carl," said he;"' "I am
pleas-ed to see it, for we must be at the foot of yon-der moun-
tain ere the moon ri-ses." With that, he jump-ed down from his
perch; and they pur-su-ed their way un-til they came to the
mar-gin of a lake, when, to Carl's great sur-prise, the gnome
trot-ted o-ver the sur-face as if it had been fro-zen. Come on,
my friend," said he, turn-ing to Carl, who he-si-ta-ted to fol-low
him. He, how-e-ver, see-ing no help for it, was soon up to his
neck, and stri-king out for the op-po-site shore, which the gnome
had long gain-ed. When he ar-ri-ved, in his turn, he was in
ra-ther a dis-a-gree-a-ble plight: his teeth chat-ter-ed, and the
wa-ter, drip-ping from his clothes, made a min-i-a-ture lake at
his feet. Don't let us have a-ny more of that sort of thing, if
you please, Mr. Gnome," said he, in ra-ther a sul-ky tone, or
I must cut your ac-quaint-ance."
CARIL S ROUGH TlAYELLING.
Cut my ac-quaint-ance, will you?" said the gnome, with
a grin; my dear Carl, that is out of your pow-er. You have,
of your own will, dip-ped your-self in the fai-ry lake, which
makes you mine for some time to come. Had I a strong chain
to you, you would not fol-low me more sure-ly; so, come on
a-gain, and think of the re-ward.
Carl was ra-ther start-led at this an-nounce-ment, but found
that it was po-si-tive-ly true; for, as the gnome mo-ved on, he
was for-ced, by some ir-re-sis-ti-ble pow-er, to fol-low him.
Pre-sent-ly they came to the pre-ci-pi-tous side of a moun-tain,
down which the gnome slid with the most per-fect self-pos-ses-
si-on and the most e-rect form; but poor Carl went down in a
less dig-ni-fi-ed style, with such an im-pe-tus that the large stones
Aew right and left of him in dire con-fu-si-on, bound-ing with a
re-ver-be-ra-ting crash down the fright-ful pre-ci-pi-ces which
sur-round-ed him on e-ve-ry side. And his clothes suf-fer-ed in
a most shock-ing way: stitch-es flew, and large pie-ces of his
-broad-cloth were rent a-way with a tug: for he could not ar-rest
his ca-reer to dis-en-gage him-self from the tough thorn bush-es
that, with the most per-se-ve-ring at-tach-ment, sei-zed lit-tle bits
of him as he flew by them. At last he roll-ed like a ball at the
foot of the des-cent, where the gnome stood cool-ly re-ga-ling his
nos-trils with the fra-grance of a wild flow-er.
Carl sat for a mo-ment, with his blood boil-ing, to re-co-ver
his breath, when, with con-cen-tra-ted rage, he scream-ed out-
" Bru-tal gnome! I will not fol-low you a step far-ther, or you
shall car-ry me; for I am bruis-ed from head to foot: look what
a fi-gure you have made me!"
Ah! ve-ry good!" said the un-mo-ved gnome; "we shall
see, my boy! Now, I don't feel the slight-est in-con-ve-ni-ence;
F, __;----1 _1
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Ci ril ,s( III~
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CARL GETS FROZEN.
I I I
and you will find, up-on our fur-ther ac-quaint-ance, that I bear
the mis-for-tunes of o-thers with a won-der-ful phi-lo-so-phy.
Come on, Carl, my dear friend." This hor-ri-ble come on"
be-gan to sound with fright-ful mean-ing in the ears of Carl; but,
as be-fore, he was o-bli-ged to o-bey it; and he went on, and on,
till his teeth chat-ter-ed with the cold, and he per-ceiv-ed that
the warm land-scape had chan-ged in-to the drea-ri-ness of
win-ter; and, from the tow-er-ing ice-bergs fast gath-er-ing
a-round him, he sup-po-sed that they must be cross-ing some
vast sea. Al-most be-numb-ed in-to a fee-ble crawl, he beg-ged
and im-plo-red the gnome to rest for a few mo-ments. At last
the gnome seat-ed him-self.
"I on-ly stop to o-blige you," said he, "but I think it
dan-ger-ous not to keep mo-ving." So say-ing, he pull-ed out a
pipe, which seem-ed much too large e-ver to have been in his
pock-et, and, stri-king a light, be-gan to en-joy it with the most
com-fort-a-ble as-pect, as if he had been sit-ting in Carl's snug
chim-ney cor-ner. Poor Carl look-ed at him with chat-ter-ing
teeth and suf-fer-ing limbs for some time, and then beg-ged for
just one warm whiff or two from the glow-ing pipe.
"Daren't do it, Carl; it's de-mon to-bac-co, and much too
strong for you: warm your fin-gers, if you can, in the smoke.
What you want, I can't i-ma-gine; for I am com-fort-a-ble
e-nough: but you have no phi-lo-so-phy." Carl groan-ed, but
said no-thing to the im-mo-va-ble smo-ker.
Af-ter a long smoke, the gnome knock-ed the ash-es out of
his pipe on the toe of his boot, and said, with the most af-fec-
ti-on-ate smile, to the fro-zen Carl-" My good friend! you
re-al-ly do not look well: per-haps we had bet-ter walk on."
He rose im-me-di-ate-ly, and poor Carl stum-bled on af-ter him.
r- r ~- 1K-.._--~------
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CA'L BECOMES TOO HOT.
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"We shall soon be warm-er, my dear friend," said he, turn-ing
to Carl, who mere-ly grunt-ed a re-ply as he fol-low-ed, feel-ing
how im-pos-si-ble it was to re-sist his fate.
And they were soon warm-er: for the ice dis-ap-pear-ed; the
grass co-ver-ed the land; the flow-ers bloom-ed in wild lux-u-
ri-ance; and the blush-ing grapes hung in tempt-ing clus-ters
on the wide-spread-ing vines. Up the moun-tain's side they
toil-ed,-at least, Carl toil-ed-for to the gnome, up or down was
all the same,-un-til the moun-tain be-came scorch-ed and
de-so-late. Cin-ders crum-bled be-neath their tread, and
noi-some va-pours as-cend-ed from the riv-en earth. "' Where
are we go-ing now, I won-der?" groan-ed Carl to him-self, for he
found that speak-ing to the de-mon was on-ly waste of time.
He was not long left in doubt, for the roar of a vast vol-ca-no
struck up-on his ear, and the fall-ing stones pat-ter-ed on his
head and shoul-ders. From rock to rock he strug-gled on, in
the a-go-ny of pe-ril e-ve-ry mo-ment; for his foot-ing be-came
a-larm-ing-ly in-se-cure, the sti-fling smoke im-pe-ded his sight,
whilst the ir-re-sis-ti-ble sum-mons of the gnome sound-ed in
his ears, Come on! come on!" un-til his sen-ses seem-ed to
de-sert him, when he was on-ly con-sci-ous that he was fall-ing
down the side of the moun-tain. A loud splash and the cold
dash of wa-ter an-noun-ced his ar-ri-val in the waves of the sea.
He struck out, with the in-stinct of self-pre-ser-va-ti-a nd as
he rose, he saw the gnome seat-ed on the trunk of a large tree,
ri-sing and fall-ing with the waves, al-most with-in his reach.
Stretch out your hand, good gnome," said he, in a faint
voice; I shall sink."
"Non-sense," said the gnome; strike out, my friend, for
you must save your-self. This tri-fling bit of tree is on-ly e-nough
22- --- -_- ._ T
SELF THE FIRST CONSIDERATION.
to keep me from fa-ti-guing my-self; and self, you know, is the
first con-si-de-ra-ti-on: so, you, the se-cond con-si-de-ra-ti-on,
must swim; that is, if you like to take the trou-ble. Your
con-tract is now up with me, un-til you will-ing-ly re-new it by
your ac-ti-ons or wish-es. A-dieu !"
The roll-ing waves soon bore the mock-ing gnome out of
sight, and Carl re-main-ed bat-tling with the waves. He
float-ed on till he came with-in sight of land, when he luck-i-ly
es-pi-ed some pie-ces of wave-worn tim-ber ap-pear-ing a-bove
the sea like a rem-nant of some old break-wa-ter. These he
clutch-ed, al-most with the grasp of death, and shout-ed out in
hopes of aid from the shore. Some fish-er-men's chil-dren,
play-ing on the beach, were, at last, at-tract-ed by the cries of
the half-drown-ed Carl, and, re-gard-less of dan-ger, push-ed
a boat off and pad-dled to-wards the ap-pa-rent-ly sink-ing man.
Af-ter ma-ny at-tempts, he was drag-ged in-to the boat by the
ef-forts of the fear-less chil-dren.
Thanks! thanks!" gasp-ed he, as he look-ed to the al-most
in-fants who had ven-tu-red to his res-cue. Don't thank us,"
said the boy; you do not know how hap-py it has made us that
hea-ven has giv-en us the op-por-tu-ni-ty of sa-ving you; it is
we who ought to be thank-ful when we can do a good ac-ti-on,
so our good fa-ther teach-es us."-" I wish mine had," thought
Carl. They soon reach-ed the shore, which pre-sent-ed a strange
as-pect to Carl. He kiss-ed the chil-dren with af-fec-ti-on, for
he had now no-thing else to give them; for all his gold had been
lost du-ring his mis-ad-ven-tures with the false gnome.
He in-qui-red his way, when a young cot-ta-ger, some-what
old-er than his lit-tle pre-ser-vers, of-fer-ed to cross the high
moun-tains and di-rect him to his home, which he as-ton-ish-ed
Carl by tell-ing him was at a ve-ry great dis-tance.
CAIRT SAVED BY THE 0001) C'ILD I EN.
Rag-ged and foot-sore, Carl start-ed with his young and
a-gile guide, who as-sist-ed him with the ut-most ten-der-ness
o-ver the rough and dif-fi-cult pas-sa-ges of the moun-tain road.
Carl felt re-bu-ked,"and blush-ed when he saw this sim-ple child,
un-mind-ful of self, and the dis-tance he was pla-cing be-tween
him-self and his home, ca-rol-ling, on the way, his lit-tle moun-
tain songs, to cheer the poor and des-ti-tute stran-ger, that he
might not faint with wea-ri-ness of spi-rit: and when they came
to some sha-dy and se-ques-ter-ed spot, he would seat him-self
by his side, and, pull-ing out the con-tents of his scrip, share
with him his lit-tle store in the most cheer-ful and en-ga-ging
At last the path lay straight and dis-tinct be-fore him; and
his be-ne-vo-lent guide pre-pa-red to leave him and re-turn to
his home; but, be-fore do-ing so, he wish-ed to give Carl the
con-tents of his wal-let, that he might not starve. But Carl
would not take it; for what would be-come of that mere child,
should he de-prive him of his food so? he re-fu-sed, and,
em-bra-cing him, with ma-ny thanks, de-scend-ed the moun-
tain's side. Carl had learnt to think of o-thers.
He tra-vel-led on, for ma-ny days, through the val-leys,
feed-ing up-on the wild-est ber-ries, and sla-king his thirst in the
wa-ters of the brooks. At last he gain-ed a lit-tle vil-lage of
scat-ter-ed cot-ta-ges. Fa-tigue and the want of food had
e-ner-va-ted his once stal-wart frame, and he tot-ter-ed on in
the hope of find-ing some one to suc-cour him; but he saw no
one but a pret-ty, fair-hair-ed girl, who was sit-ting on the steps
of a cot-tage door, eat-ing her bowl of bread and milk. He
at-tempt-ed to ap-proach her, but fell at his length up-on the
ground, un-a-ble to pro-ceed a step far-ther. The child a-rose
1i' LFt (
THE UNSELFISH (.III I LD.
as she be-held the poor and tat-ter-ed stran-ger fall, with a
groan, al-most at her feet. She lift-ed up his head, and, guess-
ing his con-di-ti-on from his pal-lid, care-worn face, pla-ced the
bowl to his lips, and did not take it a-way un-til he had swal-
low-ed its con-tents with fa-mish-ed ea-ger-ness.
That child, with-out a mo-ment's thought, ex-cept for the
dis-tress of the starv-ing Carl, had giv-en up her break-fast
with a will-ing cheer-ful-ness. Re-mem-ber that, Carl! He
did re-mem-ber it. When re-in-vi-go-ra-ted, he wend-ed on his
way with the ex-am-ple work-ing at his heart.
There seem-ed still to be a long and wea-ry path be-tween
him and his home. His home! How sick his heart grew when
he re-mem-ber-ed that it was no long-er his home-that it was
pos-sess-ed by his friend and his sis-ter, both of whom he had
treat-ed with cold self-ish-ness up to the last mo-ment of his
part-ing with them, when his brain was full of the gold-en pro-
mi-ses of the de-ceit-ful gnome-when he pic-tu-red to him-self
how soon he would pos-sess e-nor-mous rich-es, and thought how
wise it was of him, by his be-ha-vi-our, to put be-tween them
a dis-tance which would pre-clude a-ny-thing like their sha-ring
it with him, should they ever need it! With the al-ter-ed
sen-ti-ments that were gra-du-al-ly find-ing their way in-to his
heart from the kind-ness he had ex-pe-ri-en-ced at all hands
with-out the base hope of re-ward, he felt how lit-tle he could
claim from e-ven their cha-ri-ty, since he hard-ly dare hope for
their love; and he sigh-ed as he thought of his for-mer self.
Night o-ver-took him on a wild and de-so-late waste; and,
to add to his mi-se-ry, the snow be-gan to fall in blind-ing
flakes. He but-ton-ed his tat-ter-ed coat a-bout him, and
strug-gled a-gainst the freez-ing blast, which buf-fet-ed him
CARL TIN THE SNOW-STOTRM.
with a kind of venge-ful strength. At last the snow-drifts
clog-ged his be-numb-ed feet, and his pro-gress be-came slow-er
and more la-bour-ed at e-ve-ry step. A sud-den gust of
un-u-su-al vi-o-lence made him stag-ger. He stood, for a
mo-ment, as if crush-ed by the howl-ing blast; then sank down,
and be-came half bu-ri-ed be-neath a deep bed of fro-zen snow.
The tink-ling of bells was heard a-bove the storm, and a
co-ver-ed cart was com-ing o-ver the deep snow with a noise-
less pro-gress which al-most left you in doubt as to its re-a-li-ty;
but soon it was pla-ced be-yond a ques-ti-on by the cheer-ing
ray of a lan-thorn which glim-mer-ed from its in-te-ri-or. A
short time brought it close to the pros-trate Carl, when the
horse start-ed at see-ing the form al-most be-neath his feet.
The dri-ver pull-ed up and rais-ed the fro-zen stran-ger, and,
af-ter some ef-fort of strength, pla-ced him in safe-ty in the
cart, and drove on has-ti-ly to the first cot-tage that show-ed
a light. Here, by un-re-mit-ting at-ten-ti-on, he was brought
back to life, and the first face that met his view was that of
his res-cu-er. Af-ter a mo-ment's stea-dy gaze, he saw that it
was his kind-heart-ed bro-ther-in-law Wil-helm, who had not
re-cog-ni-sed in the rag-ged, for-lorn, and dy-ing stran-ger, his
rich and self-ish bro-ther Carl, who, af-ter a few words of
ex-pla-na-ti-on, found that he had been a-way with the gnome
more than a year, which to him was in-con-ceiv-a-ble: yet
Wil-helm as-su-red him of the fact, as well as his rea-di-ness
to re-ceive him at his house, and give him all that true af-fec-
ti-on and love were e-ver rea-dy to grant, to-ge-ther with a
to-tal for-get-ful-ness of the dis-a-gree-a-ble past; which was a
balm to the wound-ed and con-trite feel-ings of the re-pent-ant
/ I r ,.~
: II r 1)11"11j ,IIi iII
_ ~ ___
I i 'li~?
--~--.- _-L=LI-- -~-=-_--~-----~-~I-_;i-ii----
Carl. Wil-helm de-part-ed, leav-ing him to rest his bruis-ed
limbs in the com-fort-a-ble bed of the cot-ta-ger.
The next morn-ing saw him, with a shame up-on his face,
ap-proach-ing the well-known porch; but hard-ly had his foot
touch-ed the first step, when his sis-ter flew in-to his em-brace.
He hid his face in her bo-som and wept.
The gnome, who had fol-low-ed him in hopes of a-gain
hav-ing him in his pow-er, stop-ped sud-den-ly at this af-fect-ing
sight; and, as he ga-zed, with a look of cha-grin, on the pair,
he gra-du-al-ly be-came faint-er and faint-er to the sight un-til
he was in-dis-tinct.
The De-mon of Self-ish-ness had de-part-ed for e-ver; and
Carl re-turn-ed thanks to Hea-ven for the fear-ful ex-pe-ri-ence
that had so chan-ged him, and shown him that as long as he
bu-si-ed him-self in cha-ri-ty and kind-ness to-wards o-thers, he
was work-ing for him-self, and for his own es-sen-ti-al hap-pi-
ness; and that he had there-fore dis-co-ver-ed a trea-sure far
more pre-ci-ous than gold.
ROUTLEDGE'S EVERLASTING BOOKS,
PRINTED ON CLOTH.
In Super-royal, 8vo, price Sixpence each on Paper, or printed on Cloth, One Shilling, with Cloth
AUNT MAVOR'S TOY BOOKS FOR LITTLE READERS,
With Large Coloured Illustrations, and Fancy Covers.
LIST Off THE SERIES, VIZ:-
1. The Old Cornish Woman. 21. Jack tle Giant Killer.
2 Mr. Hre and Miss Fos. 22. The lDog's Dinner Party.
3. Little Polly's Doll's louse. 23. Pu-s in Boots.
4. Story of Reynard the Fox. (T'l') 24. Holp o' my Thumb.
5. Mother Bunch's Evening Party. 25. The Butterfly's Ball.
6. The Victoria Alphabet. 26. Little Red Riding Hood.
7. Aunt Mav'r's Picture Gallery 27. The Little Dog Trusty (By Maria
8. Aunt Mavor's Alphabet. Edgeworth).
9. Chlnrles Grey's Travels. 28. The Cherry Orclard.
10. Uncle Hugh's Country liouls, 29. Dick Whittiugton id Ll lis Cat.
11 Willio'. Holidla.. 30. The History of Our Pets.
12. The Cat's Tea Party. 31. Punch anl quly.
13. Th.- C('mictited Gildfinch ; or, St. 32. The listur, -y"f Jlhn (ilpin.
S Valuitine's Day. 33. The Histor'of Blue Beard.
14. Nur.ry Alphabet.. (The) 34. 01,1 MotherIuhbbard.
15. History of Tolu Thumb. (The) 3tod Little Tott.
16. Cinderella; or, the Three Sisters : Cock R il (Death and Burial of)
17. The Tlrpee Bears. 37. Sinua-.thil ailor. (The History of)
18. Beauty and the Beast. 3. Jack aI e Beas Stalk.
19. Aladdin; or, the- Wonderful Lam. 39. t t Built.
90. The Babes in the Wood. .
ROUTLEDGE'S .TWOPENNY CL0 OOKS
1. Alphabet with Small Le i ': ; 3. Dormtic B and
2. Alphabet wi Capital I rs. 4. Moral Less and S Ani
ROUTE E'S PENNY CLOTH BA ED
1. First Picture lchab 4. LeA O
2. Second Picturaei pha 5. Leh.ii b N c
3. Third Picture she' 6. Word_4in C
'he great alvanstages of th e use of Chil4@jq e found pr
on or lined with cloth, iand there
LONDON. G.EOR~GE ROU %
Edmund Evans, Engraver and Prit