a horse and chaise."

"Oh, you stupid Peter!" cried the little man, while he flung his glass
pipe against a thick pine so that it broke in a hundred pieces.
"Horses? a carriage? Sense, I tell you, sense--common sense and
judgment you ought to have wished, but not a horse and chaise. Come,
come, don't be so sad, we will do all we can to make it turn out for
the best, even as it is, for the second wish is on the whole not
altogether foolish. A good glass-factory will support its man; but you
ought to have wished judgment and sense in addition; a horse and chaise
would come as a matter of course."

"But, Mr. Schatzhauser," replied Peter, "I have another wish left, and
might very well wish sense, if I am so much in need of it, as you seem
to think."

"Say no more about it. You will get involved in many an embarrassment
yet, when you will be glad of being at liberty to obtain your third
wish. And now proceed on your way home." Drawing a small bag from his
pocket, he said: "There are two thousand florins; let that be enough,
and don't come again asking for money, for, if you do, I must hang you
up to the highest pine. That is the way I have always acted, ever
since I have lived in the forest. Three days ago old Winkfritz died,
who had a large glass-factory in the Unterwald. Go there to-morrow
morning, and make a fair offer for it. Look well to yourself. Be
prudent and be industrious; I will come to see you from time to time,
and assist you with word and deed, since you have not wished for common
sense. But I must repeat it seriously; your first wish was evil.
Guard against frequenting the public-house, Peter, no one who did so,
ever prospered long." The little man, while thus talking to him, had
taken a new pipe, of the most beautiful glass, from his pocket, charged
it with dry fir-apples, and stuck it into his little toothless mouth.
Then drawing out a large burning-glass, he stepped into the sun and
lighted it. When he had done this, he kindly offered his hand to
Peter, added a few more words of salutary advice which he might carry
on his way, puffed and blew still faster, and finally disappeared in a
cloud of smoke, which smelled of genuine Dutch canaster, and, slowly
curling upwards, vanished amidst the tops of the pines.

On his arrival home, Peter found his mother in great anxiety about him,
for the good dame thought in reality her son had been drawn among the
recruits. He, however, was in great glee