"And he did play, so touchingly and heartbreakingly, that the listeners were very soon in agonies before him. The eyes of the Dwarf rolled like little fire-balls in their cells—his cheeks grew paler and paler, and cold sweat poured down in a stream from his forehead. Nevertheless, he fiddled away incessantly—now merrily, now mournfully, now slowly, now quicker than ever. Every dancer had reason that night to thank his stars, if he left off without having thrown himself into a phthisic; for, when he once began, it was as easy for him to fly into the air as to come to a stand-still, until it pleased Klaus Stringstriker to make a pause with his fiddle.
"The horrible jest lasted till towards midnight, and then the tormentors were willing to grant their victim some indulgence. The fiddler was unbound, and he would have had to eat and drink, and his own dear pipe of tobacco would have been restored to him, had not the company immediately perceived to their astonishment that both his pipe and glass stood already filled before him, although not a single soul amongst them had lifted or touched either one or the other. If the guests had been riotous before, they were hushed and quiet enough now. And Klaus, too, struck up another tune instanter. He bowed ironically to the assembly, emptied his glass, lit his pipe, and tucked his fiddle under his arm.
"'Thank you, gossip!' said he, 'thank you kindly for your christening. I have enjoyed every thing—thoroughly; your compliments, your beer, your tobacco, and your sport! Rest assured, Mike, I shall quit scores with you, in good time, for all. As to my little godchild, you'll be pleased to call the boy Nicholas, that is to say, if you are not tired of your life. For yourself, Twirling-stick Mike,' he continued with a frown, 'depend upon it, you shall be settled, all in good time, very comfortably amongst my children. Meanwhile, Fare-you-well!'
"And with these words, the little fellow, repeating his scornful obeisance, hobbled away. He was heard to strike up a lively air, and some of the guests, whose curiosity took them out of doors, averred that he cut across the fields with supernatural swiftness, whilst there glittered around him a bright tremulous light, in which at times the tiniest phantoms were distinguishable.
"Whether this statement were really true, or whether a mere imagination, came never to be rightly known; and it is most likely that nothing more would have been said about it, if, on the following morning, the report had not run like a fire through the village, that the Dwarf-piper, in the night, had come to an untimely end, and was then lying as dead as mutton on Twirling-stick Mike's farm and field, with his fiddle jammed under his broad chin, and the bow still resting on the strings. Half the village, headed by the authorities, sallied forth upon the intelligence. Simon, you may be certain, was not long in following—and sure enough, there lay the poor Dwarf, dead upon the ground. His head was half immersed in the Dwarf's Well, which, in the dark, he had probably not observed. But whether or not, Klaus Stringstriker had been upset, and had stumbled, poor wretch, upon his death!
"It was very natural for Twirling-stick Mike to repent him suddenly of his wanton cruelty. The scoffing words of the dwarf rang in his ears, and he felt by no means easy. To make what amends he might to the deceased, he had him sumptuously buried at his own expense, with funeral oration, psalms, prayer, and benediction; and what is more, put up a very pretty monument to his memory, which, in very legible characters, made known the talents and virtues of the fiddler, and carried them down to remote posterity. The Dwarf, however, was scarcely in his grave, before all manner of strange reports were whispered about in the neighbourhood. In the first place, Twirling-stick Mike's garden was said to be haunted o' nights. Noises were heard and lights seen on the path crossing his fields; and you had only to stray into the vicinity of the Dwarf's Well to be forsaken at once of seeing and hearing. If Simon enquired more particularly into these worrying rumours, every body professed to know nothing at all of the matter. One man referred him to his neighbour, and he to the next; who, in his turn, protested that the whole was a heap of lies; or said any thing that seemed most likely to appease the farmer's anxious state of mind. Simon, troubled as he was by the absurd babbling of the people, was nevertheless unable to suppress it, or prevent its growth. Indeed there was a small chance of its diminishing, when, in less than two months, there was not a soul in the neighbourhood who could not swear that he had been a witness to most unearthly doings. There was no need of further mystery, of doubtful head-shaking, and ominous whispers—every one had seen Klaus Stringstriker near Twirling-stick Mike's house, playing his fiddle in the clear light of the moon. It was true, none could aver that he had heard a single note; but it was impossible to mistake his figure, and that had been seen, time after time, gliding in from the adjoining field, making the tour of Simon's house, and exhibiting all the gesticulations of a violin-player. Many affirmed, too, that the fiddler was followed by a swarm of fluttering lights causing an odd noise, like nothing so much as the multitudinous clacking of little hammers. If the Dwarf and his luminous retinue encountered any one, he stood still until the latter had passed, and then quietly pursued his road. The more inquisitive who had ventured to steal after the apparition, swore deep and high that the Dwarf and his lights had gone hissing into the well that stood upon Twirling-stick Mike's land, and then the ghostly procession altogether ceased.
"Simon gave himself a deal of trouble to witness some of these remarkable things; but he met with nothing; and accordingly, seeing that the ghost of the dead sponsor in no way molested him, he permitted the people to chatter on as they would. His indifference, indeed, had nearly reduced all disagreeable rumours to silence, when another very sensible unpleasantness took rise under his own roof.
"Young Klaus could hardly run alone before he manifested a most undesirable faculty of seeing spirits. It grew with his years; and at last it came to pass that no day or night went by upon which he had not something very extraordinary to relate. The occurrences certainly were chiefly of that nature that it required a most resolute and unbounded— an absolute Christianly-simple faith to believe them: and since the majority of Klaus's auditors were not excessively that way disposed, the accounts of the boy were held for so much downright swagger; and the poor ghost-seer acquired, to the no small vexation of his parent, the unenviable nickname of Mike's Lying Klaus. It was very singular, however, and could not fail to be remarked by every reflecting mind, that all the stories related by young Nicholas were in close connexion with the notorious well belonging to his father. There it was that he saw prodigious flames blazing forth, gold burning, and dances performed by the most grotesque and strangely-shaped little creatures. Passing this spot, earth, sand, glass, and even silver-pieces, would strike him on the head, without doing him the slightest injury. If he led his waggon by the spring, his good horses had to strain and torture themselves for a full quarter of an hour before they could draw the empty wain from the spot. The wheels seemed to have been locked and set fast, and yet the slightest hindrance could not be detected.
"Even to these incidents the ageing Simon had, by degrees, accustomed himself; but at length, and all on a sudden, it became his own frightful lot to perceive that his fine property was diminishing—yes, daily and hourly dropping and dropping away from him. He lived economically, as he had always done, even to parsimoniousness. The produce of his land, the income from his twirling-stick trade, were as satisfactory as could be— both improving! How could it happen then? Simon made known his misery to his neighbours, craved counsel from his pastor. Each chucked in his farthing's worth of wisdom; but it availed him nothing. In the meanwhile, the strapping youth grew every day more and more a ghost-seer; and the Dwarf was said to beset the premises of the farmer nightly. Simon, at all events to show a reason in his complaints, building upon these facts, boldly cast upon his son the imputation of robbing him. Violent scenes ensued between the two—they quarrelled and wrangled from morning till night; and at length, upon Simon's refusing his assent to the marriage of his hulking boy with a very honest, but at the same time somewhat uncouth and very poor girl—went bodily to law.
"Whilst father and son were valiantly tugging against each other in court, the lawyers gleefully rubbing their hands over the case, and many a good joint flying into their larders from the stalls of Twirling-stick Mike, the substance of the honest farmer underwent rapid decay. His neighbours, soon aware that Simon had falsely taxed his son, cleared up the question, as folks in such cases are fain to do, with suppositions and surmises. They gave out that the Dwarfs were gnawing away his fortune; every body believed it, and from that moment forward, he was a marked and doomed man.