"Pride often comes before a fall," replied the diminutive lord of the Pine-forest, in somewhat friendlier tones. "You are a peculiar race, you human beings! It is seldom indeed that one is found who is contented with the lot to which he was born and bred. And to little purpose would it be if you did become a glass-blower, you would then yearn to be a timber-merchant; and were you timber-merchant, you would at once be coveting the post of forester or magistrate! Yet, so be it, Peter! if you promise me to be diligent, I will help you to something better. To every Sunday's child who knows how to find me, I am bound to accord three wishes. The first two I freely grant; but the third I can refuse, if it be a foolish one. Wherefore, Peter, wish yourself something: but take care that it is something good and useful!" [Illustration: You hav'nt quite hit, Charcoal Peter.] "Hurrah! what a splendid Glass-manikin you are; you rightly deserve to be called Guardian, for you can dispense treasures indeed! Well--and so I may wish for whatever my heart desires! Now, for my first, I wish I could dance even better than the Dance-King, and could always have as much money in my pocket as Fat Ezekiel." "You idiot!" cried the dwarf, angrily. "What a miserable wish--to be a good dancer, and to have money wherewith to gamble! Are you not ashamed of yourself, you stupid Peter, to cheat yourself of so good a chance of happiness? What good will your dancing be to your mother or to yourself? How will your money help you, which, according to your wish, is only for the tavern, and will only stay there like that of the wretched Dance-King? For the rest of the week you will have nothing, and be no better off than before. One more wish I am to grant you; but take care you ask for something more sensible." Peter scratched his head, and after a little hesitation, said: "Well, I will wish myself the finest and richest glass-factory in the whole Black Forest with everything complete and money to carry it on." "Nothing else?" asked the little man, anxiously. "Nothing else, Peter?" "Well--you might add a horse, and a little trap--" "Oh, you stupid Charcoal-Peter!" exclaimed the dwarf, throwing his glass-pipe angrily against a big pine, where it shattered to atoms. "Horses! Traps! _Sense_, I say to you, _good sense, sound common-sense and insight_ you should have wished for--not horses and traps. Ah well, don't be so downcast; we will see whether we cannot keep you from coming to harm, for the second wish was not so foolish on the whole. A good glass-factory will support both master and man; if you had only insight and understanding into the bargain, carriages and horses would have come of themselves." "But, Master Guardian," remarked Peter, "I have still one wish left. I could wish for sense with that, if it is so supremely necessary as you say."