Michel, who had
observed all this from the other side of the ditch, howled, cried, and
raved when he saw the serpent carried away by one more powerful than
himself.

Exhausted and trembling, Peter continued his way; the path became
steeper, the country wilder, and soon he found himself before the large
pine. He again made a bow to the invisible glass-mannikin, as he had
done the day before, and said,

"Keeper of wealth in the forest of pine,
Hundreds of years are surely thine,
Thine is the tall pine's dwelling place,
Those born on Sunday see thy face."

"You have not quite hit it," said a delicate fine voice near him, "but
as it is you, Peter, I will not be particular." Astonished he looked
round, and lo! under a beautiful pine there sat a little old man in a
black jacket, red stockings, and a large hat on his head. He had a
tiny affable face and a little beard as fine as a spider's web; and
strange to see, he was smoking a pipe of blue glass. Nay, Peter
observed to his astonishment, on coming nearer, that the clothes,
shoes, and hat of the little man were also of coloured glass, which was
as flexible as if it were still hot, bending like cloth to every motion
of the little man.

"You have met the lubber Michel, the Dutchman?" asked the little man,
laughing strangely between each word. "He wished to frighten you
terribly; but I have got his magic cudgel, which he shall never have
again."

"Yes, Mr. Schatzhauser," replied Peter, with a profound bow, "I was
terribly frightened. But I suppose the black cock was yourself, and I
am much obliged to you for killing the serpent. The object of my visit
to you, however, is to ask your advice; I am in very poor
circumstances, for charcoal-burning is not a profitable trade; and
being still young I should think I might be made something better,
seeing so often as I do how other people have thriven in a short time;
I need only mention Hezekiel, and the king of the ball-room, who have
money like dirt."

"Peter," said the little man, gravely, blowing the smoke of his pipe a
long way off, "don't talk to me of these men. What good have they from
being apparently happy for a few years here, and the more unhappy for
it afterwards? You must not despise your trade; your father and
grandfather were honest people, Peter Munk, and they carried on the
same trade. Let me not suppose it is love of idleness that brings you
to me."

Peter was startled at the gravity