What does he see coming, along the path? Is it a man?—he has at least a hundred protuberances! He must be a spectre! He comes nearer and nearer. Joseph goes up to him boldly, and says—"Good evening!" The man with the hundred protuberances—it was the hatter with his bundles of three-cornered hats hanging round him—tried to persuade Joseph, first kindly and then by force, to go back with him; but he slipped through his hands, and running on, cried loudly through the wood, "Father! father!" and on he went. "He will soon come—he is sure to hear me." Night now set in, and Joseph walked further and further, calling out his father's name; and his cheeks were in such a glow that the snow melted as it fell on his face. He knelt down and said his usual night prayer at least thirty times over—"God, bless my father and mother!" He always said this with peculiar piety; and again started up, thinking that he heard something crackling and moving in the ravine. But no—all was again still. "But where is the path?—there is now no path at all." The boy began to cry bitterly as he ran along, stumbling first against one tree and then against another. "Father! mother! father!—good Lord, help me!" And God heard his cry. Three angels are coming hither with lights: they have white garments and gold crowns on their heads, and are singing such a strange song.
"Awake ye, awake ye,
Come hither to me;
For this is the home
Of the brave and the free."
They come nearer and nearer, and now they are close to Joseph, who accosts them courageously, saying—"Good angels! take me with you to my own home, and to my father and mother."
"Gracious powers!—a spirit!—the Holy Child!" cry out the three angels, and scurry off with their torches at such a pace! but they have wings, and can run or fly as quickly as they choose.
Joseph did not try to follow them: he stumbled and fell, but soon got up again, when all had vanished, and he was once more alone. A little way off he saw the glimmering of a torch. How to get near it! Joseph had lost his cap, but he did not observe it; and, running as hard as ever he could, he shouted, "Stay, stay! I am little Joseph!" But the angels declined stopping, and were no longer to be seen. Their footsteps, however, were distinct enough in the snow, and Joseph followed the marks on, and on; and at last up a hill—Heaven be praised!—a light at last, indeed many lights, and brightness all round. The comforting feeling, that men are under shelter of a roof close by, inspired fresh courage in the little wanderer; and, with renewed strength, he ran down the hill to the lights, and reached the Forest Mill below at the very moment when the three angels were ascending the outside stair singing:
"Three Kaisers sang on high—the Heavenly Hosts among;
And glorious the melody, and glorious the song.