Boys' Column. Hans Hecklemann's Luck.

Waikato Times, Volume XXV, Issue 2057, 12 September 1885, Page 6 (Supplement)

Boys' Column. Hans Hecklemann's Luck.

Hans Hkcklkmann had no luck at all. Now and then we hear folks say that they have no luck at all, but they only mean that their luck is bad, and that they are aahamed of it. Everybody but Hans Hecklemann bad luck of some kind, either good or bad, and, what is more , everybody carries their luck about with them. Some carry it in their pocket-books, some carry it in their hats, some carry it on their finger-tips, and some carry it under their tongues— these are lawyers. Mine ii at this moment sitting astride of my 'pen, though I can no more see it than though it was thin air. Whether it is good or bad depends entirely on how you look upon it. But Hans had no luck at all. How he lost it nobody knows, but it was clean gone from him. He was as poor as oharity, and yet his luok was not bad, for, poor at he was, he always had enough for hii wife and his family and himself to eat. They all of them worked from dawn to night-fall, and yet his luok was not good, for he never laid one penny on top of the other, as the saying is. He had food enough to eat and clothes enough to wear, so his luok was indifferent. Now, as it was neither good, bad, nor indifferent, you see that it could have been no luck at all. Hans Heoklomann's wife was named Catherine. One evenining when Hans came into the cottage with just enough money to buy them all bread, and not a oraoked farthing to spare, Catherine spoke to him of this matter. " Hans," said she, " you have no luok at all." "No," said Hans, "I hare not" (whioh was the truth, as I have already told you). " What are you going to do about it 7 " said Catherine. " Nothing at all," said Hans. " Doing nothing puts no cabbage into the pot," said Catherine. " It takes none out," said Hans. "See, Hans," said Katherine, "go to the wise woman in the wood and talk to her about it. Who knows but that she can tell you how and where you lost your luok ? " " If I should find my luck, it might be bad and not good," said Hans. "It is worth having a look at," said Catherine. " You can leave it where you find it if it does not please you." "No," said Hans. "When a man finds his luck he has to take it, whether he likes it or no." So Hans talked, but he had made np his mind to do aa Catherine said— to go and see the old wise woman in the wood. He argued with her, but he only argued with her to let her know how little was her knowledge and how great was his. After he had clearly showed her how poor her advice was, he took it. Many other men are like Hans Hecklemann. So, early the next morning, Hans jogged along to the old wise woman's cottage while the day was sweet and fresh. The hedgerows were covered all over with white blossoms, as though it was with so muoh snow, the sky was full of little white clouds that looked like many lambkins turned topsyturvy, the ouokoo was singing among the budding branob.es, and the little flowers were looking up everywhere with their bright facei. " Surely," said Hans to himself, "if I find my luck on this day, it must be good and not ill." So he came to the little red cottage at the edge of the wood wherein lived the wise woman who knew many things and one. Hans scraped his feet on the stonei until they were clean, and then he knooked at the door. 11 Come in," said the old wise woman. She was as strange an old woman as one oould hope to see in a lifetime. Her nose bent down to meet her chin, and her ohm bent up to reach her nose ; her faoe was gray with great age, and her hair was white as snow. She wore a long red oloak over her shoulders, and a great blaok oat sat on tht back of her chair. " What do you want, son Hans ? " laid she. " I want to find my luck, mother," said Hani. " Where did you lose it, son Hans ? " said she. " That I do not know, mother ? " said Hans. Then the old wise woman said, " Hum-m-m! " in a thoughtful voice, and Hans said nothing at all. After a while she spoke again, " Hare you enough to eat ? " said she. " Oh yes," said Hans. " Have you enough to drink ?" said she. " Plenty water, enough milk, but no beer," said Hans. " Have you enough clothes to cover you ? " said she. " Oh yes," said Hans. " Are you warm enough in winter 7 " said she. " Oh yes," said Hans. " Then you had better leave well enough alone," said she, " for luck can give you nothing more." " But it might put money into my pooket," said Hans. " And it might take away the good things you already have," said she. "AH the same, I should like to find it again," said Hans. "If I could only lay my hands on it I might make good out of it, even if it ia bad." " I doubt that," said the old wise woman. Nevertheless, she saw that Hans was set in his own way, and that bo only talked stiffness into his stubbornness. So she arose from her chair, and limping to a closet in the wall, she brought a book from thence. Then she ran her finger down one page and up another until she had found that which she sought. When she had found it she spoke : "Son Hans, you lost your luck three years ago, when you were coming from the fair at Kneitlingen. Tou sat down on the overturned cross that lies where three roads meet, and it fell out of your pocket along with a silver shilling. Now, Han?, your luck was evil ; therefore it stuck to the good sign, as all evil things of that kind must, like a fly to butter. Also, I tell you this : when an evil manikin such as this touches the sign of the good cross he becomes visible to the eyes of everybody who ohooses to look upon him. Therefore, go to the stone cross, and you will find your luck running this way and that, but never able to gat away from it." So saying, the old woman shut her book again. Then she arose from her chair and went onoemore to the closet in the wall. This time the took from it a little sack woven of blaok goats' hair. " When you have found your luok again put it into this little bag," said she ; " onoe in it, no evil imp will be able to get out so long as you keep the strings tied. And now good-by PTP T Then Hans set out for the overturned stone oross where the three roads meet. When he had oome to the place he looked here and there, and this way and that, but for a long time he could see nothing at all. At last, after muoh looking, he beheld a little blaok beetle running hither and thither on the •tone. " I wonder," said Hans, " if this oan be my luok?" So saying, he oaught the little beetle botwixt his finger and thumb, but very carefully, for he oould not tell whether or no it might bite him. The beetle stuck to the stone as though it had been glued there, but at last Ham pulled it away. Then, lo ! it waa not a beetle that he held in his hand, but a little manikin about as long as your thumb and ai blaok as ink. Hans Heckleman was so frightened that he nearly dropped it, for it kicked and aoreeched and rolled its red eyes in a very ugly way as he held it. However, he popped it into the little lock.nnd there it was, safe and sound. This is what Hans Heckleman's luok was like. So Hans, having his luck eeoure in the little tack, began to bargain with it. " What will you do for me if I let you out ? " 1 laid h*.

"Nothing at all," snarled his luok. " Very well," said Hans, " we will see about that." So he carried it home with him, and throw sack and all into a nasty pot where Catherine cast the scrapings of the diihes — the fat and what not that she boiled down into soap now and then. There he left his luck to stay until tho next day, and then he went to it again. " What will you do for me if I will let you out now?" said be. " Nothing at all," snarled his luck. " Vory well," said Hans, " we will see about that." So he let him stay where he was for another day. And so the fiddle played : every day Hans Hecklemann went to his luck and asked it what it what it would give him if he would let it out, and every day his luok said, " Nothing." And so a week or more passed. At last Hans'sluok gave in. " See, Hans," it said one morning. 4I if you will let me out of this nasty pickle, I will give you a thousand thalers." " Ah, no," said Hans. " ' Thnlers are only thalers," as my good father used to say. They melt away like snow, and then nothing is left of them. I will trust no such luok aa that." 11 1 will give you two thousand r thalers," said his luck. " Ah, no," said Hans ; " two thousand thalera are only twice one thousand thalers. No ; I will trust no such luck as that either." " Then what will you take to let me out, Hans ? " said his luok. "Look," said Hans; "yonder stands my old plough. Now if you will give me to find a golden noble at the end of every furrow that I strike with it, I will let you out. If not, why, then, into the soap you go." " Done 1 " said Hans's luok. " Done I " said Hans. Then he opened the mouth of the sack, and, puff 1 went his luok, like wind out of a bag, and, pop ! it slipped into his breeches pocket. He never saw it again with his mortal eyes, but it staid near to him, I oan tell you. "Ha 1 ha! ha 1 " it laughed in his pocket ; " you have made an ill bargain, Hans, I oan tell you." " Never mind," said Hans ; "I am contented." Hans Hecklemann did not tarry long in trying the new luok of his old plough, as you may easily guess. Off he went like the wind, and borrowed Fritz Friedleburg's old gray horse. Then he fastened the horse to the plough, and struck the first furrow. When he had come to the end of it, pop ! up shot a golden noble as though some one had spun it up from the ground with his finger and thumb. Hans pioked it up and looked at it as though he would swallow it with his eyes. Then he seized the handle of the plough and struok another furrow. Pop 1 up went another golden noble, and Hans gathered it as he had done the other one. So he went on all that day, striking furrows and gathering golden nobles, until all his pockets were as full as they oould hold. When it was too dark to see to plough any more, he took Fritz Fridleburg's horse baok home again, and then be went home himself. All of his neighbors thought that he was orazy, for it was nothing but plough, plough, plough, morning and noon and night, spring and summer and autumn, Frost and darkness alone kept him from his labor. His stable wai full of fine horses, and he worked them nntil they dropped in the furrows that he was always ploughing. " Yes, Hans is crazy," they all said. But when Hans heard them talk in this war he only winked to himself, and went on with his ploughing, for he felt that he knew this from that. But ill-luck danoed in his pocket with the golden nobles, and from the day he olosed his bargain with it he was an unhappy man. He bad no comfort of living, for it was nothing but work, work, work. He was up and away at the first dawn of day, and he never oame home until night had fallen ; so, though he ploughed golden nobles, he did not turn up happiness in the furrows along with them. After he had eaten his supper he would sit silently behind the stove, warming his fingers, and thinking of some quicker way of doing his ploughing. For it seemed to him that the gold pieoea came in very slowly, and he blamed himself that he had not asked his luck to let him turn up three at a time instead of only one at the end of each furrow ; so he had no comfort in his gathering wealth. As day followed day he grew thin and haggard and worn, but seven boxes of bright new gold pieces lay hidden in the oellar, of whioh nobody knew but himself. He told no one how rich he was growing, and all of his neighbors wondered why he did not starve to death. So, you see, the ill-luck in his breeohes pooket had the best of the bargain, after all. After Hans had gone the way of all men his heirs found the chests full of gold in the cellar, and therewith they bought fat lands and became noblemen and gentlemen, but that made Ham's luck none the better. From all this I gather that few folks oan turn ill-luck into good luok; that the best thing for one to do is to let well enough alone ; that one cannot get happiness, as one does cabbages, with money ; that happiness is the only good luck, after all.— Howard Pxle, in Harper't Young People.