It was a nice little tree, and I pictured to myself the spot in the forest where it came from: a snow-covered opening, enclosed by tall dark pines, the edges thickly set with various young evergreens which must needs be thinned out. I smelled of the tree until my nose burned under its prickly needles. Ah, how sweetly aromatic! Like shades out of the lap of eternity, the Christmas-eves of long ago rose up before me, with many sweet memories interesting only to myself, with hosts of fairy-tales which Grimm and Ludwig Bechstein have long since put into charming books. But soon I perceived that the breath of the fir-tree would not suffice for my purpose, and that my mood required to be worked upon by means of other aids. I thereupon pulled down the blinds, although it was noon, and lit my large lamp, thinking of a well-known Vienna novelist, who is in the habit of putting himself into the bloodthirsty and terrible train of thought which serves his purpose by means of a piece of black cloth and four burning tapers, upon which he gazes in the pauses between his work. My large lamp sings, moreover, which is a quality that cannot be prized too highly, for oil-lamps do not as a general thing feel called upon to yield sweet music. As the lamp burned and hummed, I took great pains to start up a rousing fire. It roared and sputtered with a will, for the wood was somewhat damp. But this was all the better, for a good, noisy fire plays a great part in literary difficulties. Hereupon I made myself some tea in my little tea-urn, which puffs and spits like a furious cat, and lit my cigar. The scene now comprised—

I will not deny the fact that at this point I addressed some words of stern exhortation to myself.

“Carl Pfründner,” I said, “if you don’t catch hold of a brilliant idea now, you never will. Such a comfortable state as you are in would inspire a chimney-sweep to write poetry. Suppose you get up something about an “Enchanted Sparrow,” or a “Bewitched Harlequin,” or a “Noodle in Luck””? As I was still pondering, my eye-lids grew heavy, and I fell asleep. I scorn to make use of the threadbare artifice of telling you that a brilliant thought came to me in my sleep. On the contrary, my nap was dreamless, and I awoke only strengthened in my dearth of ideas. The fir-tree was as fragrant as ever, the lamp and the fire still burned, and all the other aids to my imagination were still there. I now lit a second lamp, placing it upon the antique desk, and gazed thoughtfully into the hollow space between the drawers of the upper part, which can be shut off by a little sliding door. Thousands of times before had my eyes rested on that very spot, as if all possible subjects were contained therein, and my pen had but to choose before transferring them to paper. But never before had I looked with such particular interest at the small carved bar running across the partition.

This bar is removed about a hand’s-breadth from the back of the ancient desk, which came down to me from the last century. I had always taken it to be nothing but an ornament to hide the rough board at the back. This time I suppose I held my head a little lower than usual, for I suddenly beheld a bolt behind the carved bar, which, when pushed back, fitted exactly into a groove cut into the upper edge of the bar. It was this circumstance which drew my attention to the said bar. I pushed the bolt back and forth, but it was back so far in the dark that I could not see how it influenced the bar. A couple of matches, used with great caution near the rotten wood, only showed me that the position of the bar remained unchanged. While I was pondering the object of the bolt, I made a second discovery. Far back behind the bar there was a narrow slit in the wood, like those which one sees on children’s earthen savings-banks. This was the more curious as the edges of the slit, as I approached it with a candle, appeared to be whetted off as if, in times past, they had frequently come in contact with hard objects. The resemblance to the slit of a savings-bank tempted me to drop in a coin. Of course I sacrificed only a kreuzer to this experiment, pushing it slowly through the hole, and then letting it drop.

Heavens! what was that? The kreuzer fell first upon wood, judging by the sound, then it seemed to roll down some distance, and fell with a metallic sound. There was no doubt then that the desk contained a secret drawer, the existence of which I had never even suspected; and over and above this, it was evident that this secret drawer was designed especially to harbour coins, as the opening was not suited to paper-money or documents. The metallic ring gave good reason to suppose that the kreuzer had not fallen into an empty wooden drawer, but had joined the society of other coins filling the secret partition up to a certain height.

I beg the reader to put himself in my position. Here I have a desk dating from the last century, my rightful property, and containing a secret drawer, which harbours, in all probability, a treasure of gold coins. I had often wondered at the tremendous weight of the old desk, and sometimes the motion of writing at it seemed to call forth a softly ringing sound. And now in this prosaic age my hand was destined to come upon a hoarded treasure, a treasure of gold and mayhap some other rare valuables! I trembled with excitement, and would have knocked down any one who in this supreme moment had asked me to think of that confounded fairy tale, not to mention writing it. My one thought was how to open the secret drawer.

At first I tested the carved bar. It was immovable. I threw in another kreuzer, and, aided by the sense of hearing, tried to locate the secret drawer. Plainly I heard the metallic ring once more. It seemed to come from behind the carved bar, but the latter would not budge.

I will not tire the reader, as I did myself, with my labours of research. For two hours I worked in the sweat of my brow, taking the old desk to pieces, so far as that was possible, without coming any nearer to the solution of the mystery. Furious at last, I ran out to get a hatchet, and swung it with might to crush all obstacles, when once more my eyes fell upon the left-hand set of drawers that I had put upon the floor during my search, and I laid the axe aside. Both of the drawers showed grooves along the sides, which were evidently there for some purpose, probably in order that they might be fastened from the side, frustrating any attempt to draw them out. Mastering my excitement, I put the drawers back in place, and saw now that the carved bar exactly corresponded to the position of the grooves. I tried to push it to the left, a thing I had of course not thought of before—it moved, and fitted as snugly as need be. Now, treasure, your last hour is come; that’s what I call a Christmas present worth having! Two seconds later the drawers were out, I pushed the carved bar around further, and behold, two small, dust-stained drawers were revealed. I put out my trembling hand——