Many a hundred years thou hast seen,
Thine all the lands where the pine trees grow—
To the Sunday-born thy face now show!”
“Well, it’s not quite right yet, but as it is you Charcoal Peter, I will let it pass,” said a fine soft voice near him.
Peter turned in surprise and saw, seated beneath a beautiful pine-tree, a little old man. He was wearing a black vest, red stockings, and a large pointed hat. He had a refined, delicate little face and a long white beard as soft as a cobweb; but the most extraordinary thing about him that Peter at first sight noticed was that he was smoking a long pipe of blue glass; but on approaching nearer Peter discovered that everything the little man wore, coat, shoes, stockings, all were made of coloured glass; but it was as flexible as though it were still hot, and went into folds, as cloth would have done, with every movement of the little man’s body.
THE COLD HEART.
Charcoal Peter and the Glass-man.
“And so you met that rascal Dutch Michael,” said the little man. “He would have done you an injury had I not taken his magic wand from him. Moreover, he will not easily get it again.”
“Yes, Master Glass-man,” replied Peter, bowing low. “I had a terrible fright. And so you were the woodcock that pecked the snake to death? Very many thanks. But I have come to you for advice. Things are not very flourishing with me. A charcoal-burner does not get on in the world, and, as I am young and strong, I should like to be in a better position, especially when I see others like Fat Ezekiel and the Dance King with as much money as they can spend.”