xcept once a year, on the
birthday of the great Hill-king, who dwelt many thousand miles below in
the great deep. These were the oldest among them, some of them many
thousand years old, who knew all things and could tell of the beginning
of the world, and were called the Wise. They lived all alone, and only
left their chambers to instruct the underground children and the
attendants of both sexes, for whom there was a great school.

John was much pleased with this intelligence, and he determined to take
advantage of it; so next morning he made his servant conduct him to the
school, and was so well pleased with it that he never missed a day going
there. They were there taught reading, writing, and accounts, to compose
and relate histories, stories, and many elegant kinds of work, so that
many came out of the hills, both men and women, very prudent and knowing
people in consequence of what they were taught there. The biggest, and
those of best capacity, received instruction in natural science and
astronomy, and in poetry and in riddle-making, arts highly esteemed
among the little people. John was very diligent, and soon became a most
clever painter and drawer. He wrought, too, most ingeniously in gold and
silver and stones, and in verse and riddle-making he had no fellow.

John had spent many a happy year here without ever thinking of the upper
world, or of those he had left behind, so pleasantly passed the time--so
many agreeable companions had he.

Of all of them there was none of whom he was so fond as of a fair-haired
girl named Elizabeth Krabbe. She was from his own village, and was the
daughter of Frederick Krabbe, the minister of Rambin. She was but four
years old when she was taken away, and John had often heard tell of her.
She was not, however, stolen by the little people, but had come into
their power in this manner. One day in summer she and other children ran
out into the fields. In their rambles they went to the Nine-hills, where
little Elizabeth fell asleep, and was forgotten by the rest. At night
when she awoke, she found herself under the ground among the little
people. It was not merely because she was from his own village that John
was so fond of Elizabeth, but she was very beautiful, with clear blue
eyes and ringlets of fair hair, and a most angelic smile. Time flew away
unperceived. John was now eighteen, and Elizabeth sixteen. Their
childish fondness was now become love, and the little people were
p