his were not misery enough, he perceived, with inexpressible
grief, that the rafters of the house, the wainscoting of the rooms, were
beginning to totter and crack so fearful, that it would be impossible to
reside much longer beneath them. And oh, sorrow upon sorrow! those
unpleasant gentlemen, the lawyers, were daily asking payment, and
threatening an execution. Klaus grew very wretched. Breathing time, at
all events, was necessary, and so he sold the tavern and a considerable
portion of his land. With part of the proceeds he appeased the
blood-suckers; and with what remained, he purposed repairing his cracked
and rickety tenement.

Accustomed from his youth upwards to go to work with a full pocket, the
thrifty way of life to which he was obliged to conform, was any thing
but pleasant to him; but worse than all, and more difficult to support,
were the evidences of disrespect which poor Nicholas observed in the
conduct of the neighbouring farmers--and which every day became more
palpable. Before his poverty was known, as the son of his father, he had
been treated with some regard--and if folks did call him _Lying Klaus_,
it was more by way of joke than to give him pain. Now, however, the
neglect of him was bare-faced; and the meanest of the village learnt to
make their ill-natured remarks, and to fling his nickname over meadow
and field after him as he went. He was welcome nowhere--deserted and
forsaken on every side. Even in his work, he was the most unfortunate of
labourers. Ill-luck ever attended it. If he ploughed, either the
ploughshare would go to pieces, or the furrows would turn over so often,
that he could not stir. If he sowed in the serenest weather, when not a
breath of air was moving, a whirlwind would arise as soon as he had
begun, carrying the grain to some one distant spot, and rendering it
there perfectly useless. Sometimes he would find that he held a handful
of mere husks, and then if, in the bitterness of his soul, he began to
curse and tear his hair--he would all at once espy in those very husks--
eyes that fleered at him, whilst a horrible laughter echoed from every
side.

These were Klaus's out o' doors troubles. Those within were still
worse. His sound, strong horses perished one after another--till at last
he had nothing left in his stables but one old gaunt mare called
_Blaessel_. A distemper broke out amongst his horned stock, and before a
month passed, destroyed every thing in his stalls, wi