"I was born in a village in the plains. My father was a poor herdsman. Our housekeeping was none of the best, and my parents often did not know where they were to get a mouthful of bread. What was to me most distressing of all was, that they often quarrelled because they were poor, and each brought the bitterest complaints against the other for being the cause of it. Of me, they and every one else said I was a stupid, silly little creature; that I could not do the commonest thing properly; and, indeed, I was a good-for-nothing helpless child. Whatever I took up, I was sure to let fall and break. I could neither sew, nor spin, nor knit, nor could I learn. I could not help in managing the house; all I knew was that we were poor and miserable. I used often to sit in a corner and think how I would help my parents if I was all of a sudden to get rich; how I would shower gold and silver on them, and what fun it would be to see how surprised they would look; and I used to fancy all sorts of spirits sweeping round me, and shewing me treasures buried under ground; or giving me little pebbles, which suddenly turned to precious stones. In short, the strangest notions got hold of me; and when I had to get up and help at any thing in the house, I was all the stupider about it, because my brain was running upon these sort of ideas.
"My father was often very angry with me for being such an idle, useless burden upon him. He sometimes spoke to me very harshly, and it was seldom that I ever got a kind word from him. So it went on till I was about eight years old; and now matters got serious—I must learn to do something. My father thought it was wilfulness and obstinacy in me, and all I wanted was to spend my time in amusement. Enough: one day, after a number of threats which all proved fruitless, he gave me a dreadful beating, and declared I should have the same every day till I had learned to turn myself to some purpose or other.
"All that night I lay on my bed crying; I felt so wretched and miserable that I wished to die. I was afraid of the daylight, because I did not know what to begin about. I wished and wished for every possible accomplishment, and I could not conceive why I was stupider than other children that I knew. I was almost in despair. When morning began to break, I got up; and hardly knowing what I did, I opened the door of our little cottage. I ran out into the open fields, and presently into a wood close by, which was so thick that daylight could hardly find its way into it. I ran on and on without ever looking behind me. I did not feel the least tired; all I was afraid of was that my father would catch me, and beat me again worse than before for running away.
"When I had got to the other side of the wood, the sun was by this time high in the air, and I saw a dark heavy mass beyond me, covered with a thick mist. Presently I had to scramble up some hills, and then to follow a winding rocky path; and now I felt sure I must have found my way into the neighbouring mountains, and I began to be afraid; living as I did down in the plains, I had never seen them before; and the name of mountains, when I heard people speaking of them, had a somewhat fearful and ominous sound about it. Still, I could not find courage to return; worse fears drove me forward; I often started and looked round as the wind moaned among the fir-trees, or a distant woodman's axe echoed among the hills; and at last when some of the coalmen and miners met me, and I heard them speaking a language I did not understand, I was almost frightened out of my senses. Soon, however, I got used to them, and begged my way on through a number of villages. People gave me enough to eat and drink, and I had always an answer ready for any questions that might be asked me. I had gone on this way for four days, when I fell into a narrow footpath; I followed it, and it led further and further away from the main road, through a wholly different sort of country, where the aspect of the mountains was entirely altered, and became wilder and stranger,—among rocks and cliff's tumbled rudely one upon another, and looking as if the first gust of wind would bring them all crashing down. I did not know whether I should go on or not. It was the middle of summer, so that hitherto I had spent the night either in the woods or in some one or other of the shepherds' huts; but here I saw no signs whatever of any thing like a human habitation, nor in so wild a spot could I hope to find any. The cliffs grew steeper and more precipitous; often I had to pass along the edge of abysses that made me giddy even to look at; at last the very path came to an abrupt conclusion. Now I gave myself up for lost; I cried and screamed, and all the answer was the echoing of my voice along the rocky valley; darkness came on, and I looked for a bank of moss to lie down upon. I could not sleep, for all night long I heard strange wild noises round me, which sometimes sounded like the howling of wild beasts; at others, like the screaming of the mountain-birds, or the moaning of the wind among the rocks and cliffs. I prayed to God to protect me; and towards morning I fell asleep.
"Day had broken when I awoke. There was a steep hill immediately before me, which I climbed up, in the hope of finding some way out of the wilderness; when I had got at the top, however, all around me, as far as my eye could reach, every thing was buried in fog; in the dull grey light I could find nothing but rock, rock, rock, not a tree, not a blade of grass, not a shrub to be seen, only here and there a branch of heather projecting, with a sad lonely look, from a cleft or chasm in the mountain's side. I cannot tell you how I craved for the sight of a human being, if it was only to be afraid of him. I was hungry and exhausted, and I flung myself down, and determined to lie there and die. In a little while, however, the desire of life got the better of this feeling; I raised myself up and walked on, crying and sobbing all that day through. At last I hardly knew what or where I was; I was so tired that I had almost lost all consciousness; I scarcely wished to live, and yet I was afraid to die.
"Towards evening I approached a part where the country resumed a softer and milder look; and my heart began to beat again, and the desire of life tingled in all my veins. I fancied I caught the sound of a mill-wheel in the distance; I redoubled my speed; and oh! how light and happy I felt when at last I found myself at the end of the rocks and mountains, and saw once more the woods, and meadows, and soft swelling pleasant hills, spread smiling out before me! It seemed as if I had broke at once from hell into Paradise, and I cared no more for being alone and helpless. Instead of the mill I hoped to find, I came upon a waterfall, which a good deal diminished my exultation. I was stooping down, however, to drink some water out of my hands, when on a sudden I fancied I heard some one cough at a short distance from me. Never had I a more agreeable surprise than at that moment. I went towards the place the sound seemed to come from, and on turning the corner of a wood, I saw an old woman sitting down, apparently resting herself. She was dressed all in black, a black cap covering her head and half her face; in her hand she had a crooked stick.
"I went up to her, and asked her to help me. She bade me sit down at her side, and gave me some bread and a little wine. While I was eating she chanted a sort of hymn in a harsh, rough voice; and as soon as I had done, she rose and told me to follow her. Strange and odd as the old woman's voice and appearance was, I was delighted at this invitation; she limped away before me, helping herself along with her stick; and I followed, at first hardly able to keep from laughing at the strange faces she made at every step. We soon left the mountains behind us; we walked on over soft grassy meadows, and then along a forest glade; as we came out again into the open country the sun was just setting, and the splendour of that evening, and the feeling it produced in me, I never shall forget. The sky was steeped in gold and crimson; the trees stood with their tops flushed in the evening glow; a gleam of enchanting beauty lay upon the fields; every leaf was hushed and still; and the pure heaven looked down as if the sky-curtain was withdrawn, and Paradise lay open to our eyes; the brook bubbled along the valley; and from time to time, as a soft air swept over the forest, the rustling leaves appeared to gasp for joy. Visions of the world, and all its strange and wondrous incidents, rose up before my chilled soul. I forgot myself and my conductress, and eyes and heart were lost in ecstacy in gazing on those golden clouds.
"We went up a gentle hill which was planted with chestnut-trees; from the top of which we saw down into a green valley, in the middle of which, surrounded by a clump of chestnuts, lay a little cottage. Presently a burst of merry barking greeted us, and a bright beautiful little dog came bounding and jumping up against the old woman, and frisking round us with every sign of the greatest satisfaction. Then he turned to me, and, after looking me all over, seemed tolerably satisfied, and ran back again to his mistress. As we descended the hill, I heard a strange kind of song, which seemed to come from the cottage, and to be sung by a bird:
'In my forest-bower
I sing all day,
Hour after hour,
To eternity.
Oh, happy am I
In my forest-bower!'
These few words were repeated over and over again: the nearest description I can give of the sound is, that it was like the effect of a bugle and a cornet answering each other at a great distance over water.