her testy and crabbed in his temper, by his
many troubles and disappointments, was naturally of a loving,
compassionate disposition, and, moreover, regarded Hans as the apple of
his eye.

Hans was of a remarkably light, slender, active make, full of life and
mettle. This moment he was on the board, stitching away with as much
velocity as if he were working for a funeral or a wedding, at an hour's
notice; the next, he was dispatching his dinner at the same rate; and
the third beheld him running, leaping, and playing, among his
companions, as blithe as a young kid. If he had a fault, it was being
too fond of his fiddle. This was his everlasting delight. One would have
thought that his elbow had labor enough, with jerking his needle some
thirty thousand times a day; but it was in him a sort of universal
joint--it never seemed to know what weariness was. His fiddle stood
always on the board in a corner by him, and no sooner had he ceased to
brandish his needle, than he began to brandish his fiddlestick. If ever
he could be said to be lazy, it was when his father was gone out to
measure, or try on; and his fiddle being too strong a temptation for
him, he would seize upon it, and labor at it with all his might, till he
spied his father turning his next corner homeward. Nevertheless, with
this trifling exception, he was a pattern of filial duty; and now the
time was come that his father must die--his mother was dead long before;
and he was left alone in the world with his riddle. The whole house,
board, trade--what there was of it--all was his. When he came to take
stock, and make an inventory--in his head--of what he was worth, it was
by no means such as to endanger his entrance into heaven at the proper
time. Naturally enough, he thought of the Scripture simile of the rich
man, and the camel getting through the eye of a needle; but it did not
frighten him. His father never had much beforehand, when he had the
whole place to himself; and now, behold! another knight of the steel-bar
had come from--nobody knew where--a place often talked of, yet still a
_terra incognita_; had taken a great house opposite, hoisted a
tremendous sign, and threatened to carry away every shred of Hans's
business.

In the depth of his trouble, he took to his fiddle, from his fiddle to
his bed, and in his bed he had a dream--I thought we had done with these
dreams!--in which he was assured, that could he once save the sum of
fifty dollars, it would