"You haven't quite hit it, Charcoal-Peter; but as it is yourself, we will let it pass," said a soft clear voice close by him. He turned round in amazement; and there, under a splendid pine-tree, he saw a little, old manikin, clad in black jerkin and red stockings, and with a large hat on his head. He had a delicate friendly little face and beard, the latter as fine as a spider's web. And what was the more wonderful, he was smoking a pipe of blue glass; and Peter, on going nearer was astounded to see that the little man's clothes, shoes and hat were also made of coloured glass; yet it was as pliant as if still molten, for it folded and creased like cloth with every movement of the little body. "So you have just met that vagabond, Dutch Michael," said the manikin, with an odd wheeze between each word. "He tried to give you a good fright; but I have relieved him of that magic cudgel of his--it will never serve him again as a weapon." "Yes, Master Guardian," replied Peter, with a deep bow "I was quite terrified. You must indeed have been that Master Woodcock which bit the snake to death; for which I thank you with all my heart. But I have come to you for advice; things are very bad and irksome with me; a charcoal-burner cannot do much for himself; and as I am still young, I thought that, perhaps, I could become something better. And I cannot help thinking of others, and how well they have done for themselves in a very short time--take, for example, that fellow, Ezekiel, and the Dance-King, why, money is to them as leaves in autumn." "Peter," said the little man gravely, emitting a long puff of smoke from his mouth: "Peter, don't mention such people to me. What profit have those who are able to appear to be happy for a year or two, only at the cost of misery hereafter? You must not despise your trade; it was your father's and your grandfather's before you, and they were worthy men, Peter Munk! I should not like to think that it is love of idleness that has led you to me!" The seriousness with which the manikin spoke disconcerted Peter. "No, no," he replied, blushing. "Idleness, I know well, Master Guardian, is the root of all evil; but you cannot blame me for preferring other trades to my own. Charcoal-burning is held by the world to be such a mean calling, while glassblowers, and raftsmen, and watchmakers and such like are highly respected."