Full resolution (TIFF) - On this page / på denna sida - Chapter I. The hero.
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a pine, as though it was his dearest friend, and, with enthusiastic
rapture, would suffer the storming wind to pass over him. It
seemed to afford him far less joy when the storm was abating,
than when it whirled over him, in all the vigour of its mighty
blasts; then he would commence whistling merrily, and hurried,
more flying than walking, along the dark path.
A clear ray of the moon, which suddenly burst through the
dark veil of clouds, lighted up objects that had before been in the
shade; and, in a valley, a small cottage became visible, from the
chimney of which a cloud of smoke, mingled with sparks, was
curling toward the heavens. With a joyful and almost speaking
nod the boy hailed the humble-looking clay roof and the plain
moss-covered walls of the cottage, that contained his world, and
all which he required for his happiness and comfort after his day’s
labour in the forest.
When he arrived in front of the cottage, he halted; and,
instead of entering it, took his path beside a hedge, formed of
twisted willows, until he had arrived at a sort of dwelling, or
rather, a barn-like shed, from which, at the sound of his
footsteps, the clear neigh of a horse issued. A thrill of joy shot
through the boy; with one hand he searched in his pocket for
the small piece of bread that he had spared from his own lips,
with the other he opened the door, and the next moment stood
in the stable beside his favourite.
“Poor little pony,” said he, “you have fared badly to-day;
scarcely any straw in the manger. Yes, yes! If I am not at
home, then ——”
With these words the boy patted the hollow back of his pony.
The pony relished the bread exceedingly, and showed his gratitude
to his kind provider, by laying his head upon the boy’s
shoulder.
After the pony had received all the faithful nursing which his
master was wont to bestow upon him, the boy left the stable,
returning, however, in a moment with a blanket, which he
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