CHAPTER II.
TOY-MAKING
"WAKE up, Bertha. Come, Gretchen. You will have to hurry, for it isquite late," called their mother. It was one morning about a week afterChristmas.
BERTHA'S FATHER AND MOTHER.]
"Oh dear, I am so sleepy, and my bed is nice and warm," thought Bertha.
But she jumped up and rubbed her eyes and began to dress, withoutwaiting to be called a second time. Her mother was kind and loving, butshe had taught her children to obey without a question.
Both little girls had long, thick hair. It must be combed and brushedand braided with great care. Each one helped the other. They were soondressed, and ran down-stairs.
As soon as the breakfast was over and the room made tidy, every one inthe family sat down to work. Bertha's father was a toy-maker. He hadmade wooden images of Santa Claus all his life. His wife and childrenhelped him.
When Bertha was only five years old, she began to carve the legs ofthese Santa Claus dolls. It was a queer sight to see the little girl'schubby fingers at their work. Now that she was nine years old, shestill carved legs for Santa Claus in her spare moments.
Gretchen always made arms, while Hans worked on a still different partof the bodies. The father and mother carved the heads and finished thelittle images that afterward gave such delight to children in otherlands.
Bertha lives in the Black Forest. That name makes you think at once ofa dark and gloomy place. The woods on the hills are dark, to be sure,but the valleys nestling between are bright and cheerful when the sunshines down and pours its light upon them.
Bertha's village is in just such a valley. The church stands on theslope above the little homes. It seems to say, "Look upward, mychildren, to the blue heavens, and do not fear, even when the mistsfill the valley and the storm is raging over your heads."
All the people in the village seem happy and contented. They work hard,and their pay is small, but there are no beggars among them.
Toys are made in almost every house. Every one in a family works on thesame kind of toy, just as it is in Bertha's home.
The people think: "It would be foolish to spend one's time in learningnew things. The longer a person works at making one kind of toy, thefaster he can make them, and he can earn more money."
One of Bertha's neighbours makes nothing but Noah's Arks. Anothermakes toy tables, and still another dolls' chairs.
Bertha often visits a little friend who helps her father makecuckoo-clocks. Did you ever see one of these curious clocks? As eachhour comes around, a little bird comes outside the case. Then it flapsits wings and sings "cuckoo" in a soft, sweet voice as many times asthere are strokes to the hour. It is great fun to watch for the littlebird and hear its soft notes.
Perhaps you wonder what makes the bird come out at just the right time.It is done by certain machinery inside the clock. But, however it is,old people as well as children seem to enjoy the cuckoo-clocks ofGermany.
"Some day, when you are older, you shall go to the fair at Eastertime," Bertha's father has promised her.
"Is that at Leipsic, where our Santa Claus images go?" asked his littledaughter.
"Yes, my dear, and toys from many other parts of our country. Thereyou will see music-boxes and dolls' pianos and carts and trumpets andengines and ships. These all come from the mining-towns.
"But I know what my little Bertha would care for most. She would bestlike to see the beautiful wax dolls that come from Sonneberg."
"Yes, indeed," cried Bertha. "The dear, lovely dollies with yellowhair like mine. I would love every one of them. I wish I could go toSonneberg just to see the dolls."
"I wonder what makes the wax stick on," said Gretchen, who came intothe room while her father and Bertha were talking.
"After the heads have been moulded into shape, they are dipped intopans of boiling wax," her father told her. "The cheap dolls are dippedonly once, but the expensive ones have several baths before they arefinished. The more wax that is put on, the handsomer the dolls are.
"Then comes the painting. One girl does nothing but paint the lips.Another one does the cheeks. Still another, the eyebrows. Even thenMiss Dolly looks like a bald-headed baby till her wig is fastened inits place."
"I like the yellow hair best," said Bertha. "But it isn't real, is it,papa?"
"I suppose you mean to ask, 'Did it ever grow on people's heads?' mydear. No. It is the wool of a kind of goat. But the black hair is realhair. Most dolls, however, wear light wigs. People usually prefer them."
"Do little girls in Sonneberg help make the dolls, just as Bertha and Ihelp you on the Santa Claus images?" asked Gretchen.
"Certainly. They fill the bodies with sawdust, and do other easythings. But they go to school, too, just as you and Bertha do. Lessonsmust not be slighted."
"If I had to help make dolls, just as I do these images," said Gretchento her sister as their father went out and left the children together,"I don't believe I'd care for the handsomest one in the whole toy fair.I'd be sick of the very sight of them."
"Look at the time, Bertha. See, we must stop our work and start forschool," exclaimed Gretchen.
It was only seven o'clock in the morning, but school would begin inhalf an hour. These little German girls had to study longer and harderthan their American cousins. They spent at least an hour a day more intheir schoolrooms.
As they trudged along the road, they passed a little stream which cametrickling down the hillside.
"I wonder if there is any story about that brook," said Bertha."There's a story about almost everything in our dear old country, I'msure."
"You have heard father tell about the stream flowing down the side ofthe Kandel, haven't you?" asked Gretchen.
"Yes, I think so. But I don't remember it very well. What is the story,Gretchen?"
"You know the Kandel is one of the highest peaks in the Black Forest.You've seen it, Bertha."
"Yes, of course, but tell the story, Gretchen."
"Well, then, once upon a time there was a poor little boy who had nofather or mother. He had to tend cattle on the side of the Kandel. Atthat time there was a deep lake at the summit of the mountain. But thelake had no outlet.
"The people who lived in the valley below often said, 'Dear me! howglad we should be if we could only have plenty of fresh water. But nostream flows near us. If we could only bring some of the water downfrom the lake!'
"They were afraid, however, to make a channel out of the lake. Thewater might rush down with such force as to destroy their village. Theyfeared to disturb it.
"Now, it came to pass that the Evil One had it in his heart to destroythese people. He thought he could do it very easily if the rocky wallon the side of the lake could be broken down. There was only one way inwhich this could be done. An innocent boy must be found and got to doit.
"It was a long time before such an one could be found. But at lastthe Evil One came across an orphan boy who tended cattle on themountainside. The poor little fellow was on his way home. He wasfeeling very sad, for he was thinking of his ragged clothes and hisscant food.
"'Ah ha!' cried the Evil One to himself, 'here is the very boy.'
"He changed himself at once so he had the form and dress of a hunter,and stepped up to the lad with a pleasant smile.
"'Poor little fellow! What is the matter? And what can I do for you?'he said, in his most winning manner.
"The boy thought he had found a friend, and told his story.
"'Do not grieve any longer. There is plenty of gold and silver in thesevery mountains. I will show you how to become rich,' said the Evil One.'Meet me here early to-morrow morning and bring a good strong team withyou. I will help you get the gold.'
"The boy went home with a glad heart. You may be sure he did notoversleep the next morning. Before it was light, he had harnessedfour oxen belonging to his master, and started for the summit of themountain.
"The hunter, who was waiting for him, had already fastened a metal ringaround the wall t
hat held in the waters of the lake.
"'Fasten the oxen to that ring,' commanded the hunter, 'and the rockwill split open.'
"Somehow or other, the boy did not feel pleased at what he was told todo. Yet he obeyed, and started the oxen. But as he did so, he cried,'Do this in the name of God!'
"At that very instant the sky grew black as night, the thunder rolledand the lightning flashed. And not only this, for at the same time themountain shook and rumbled as though a mighty force were tearing itapart."
"What became of the poor boy?" asked Bertha.
"He fell senseless to the ground, while the oxen in their fright rushedheadlong down the mountainside. But you needn't get excited, Bertha, noharm was done. The boy was saved as well as the village, because hehad pulled in the name of God.
"The rock did not split entirely. It broke apart just enough to let outa tiny stream of water, which began to flow down the mountainside.
"When the boy came to his senses, the sky was clear and beautiful oncemore. The sun was shining brightly, and the hunter was nowhere to beseen. But the stream of water was running down the mountainside.
"A few minutes afterward, the boy's master came hurrying up the slope.He was frightened by the dreadful sounds he had heard. But when he sawthe waterfall, he was filled with delight.
"'Every one in the village will rejoice,' he exclaimed, 'for now weshall never want for water.'
"Then the little boy took courage and told the story of his meeting thehunter and what he had done.
"'It is well you did it in the name of the Lord,' cried his master. 'Ifyou had not, our village would have been destroyed, and every one of uswould have been drowned.'"
"See! the children are going into the schoolhouse, Gretchen. We mustnot be late. Let's run," said Bertha.
The two little girls stopped talking, and hurried so fast that theyentered the schoolhouse and were sitting in their seats in good orderbefore the schoolmaster struck his bell.