wife, who could get no sleep
at all. But no, indeed! They were twice delighted.

"Look now!" they said, "we shall have two little Blowers in the
family,--perhaps a flute and a trombone; perhaps a cornet and a
fife,--who knows?" And they began to put Piet through the same training
that Hans had received; which was very pleasant for the little brothers,
as you can imagine. There was no crying of "Oh, children! Don't make
such a racket!" in that house. There was no hiding of whistles and
trumpets and bugles. When one noisy toy wore out they were immediately
given a new one, for fear that they should forget how to blow. And they
played at nothing else all day long but blowing, and blowing, and
blowing. The house was so noisy that the neighbors did not often visit
the Miller's wife. But she cared nothing at all for that.

Then another baby came; and as the years went by more little brothers
blessed the Miller's cottage, each with the same wonderful lung-power,
the same puffy cheeks, the same fondness for blowing. Till before the
Miller fairly had counted them all, he found himself sitting at the head
of a table around which ten little Blowers kicked their heels and blew
on their porridge to cool it.

Now ten little Blowers, each blowing all day long for dear life, have
ten big appetites; and the Miller had hard work to supply them with
food. The children were not helping him by earning money. Oh no! They
were too busy blowing,--practicing on the flutes, trombones, trumpets,
bugles, fifes, horns, oboes, cornets, bassoons, and piccolos which their
father had bought them, hoping that they would be Musicians. But it was
very strange; although they were becoming skillful indeed in making a
loud noise, they had never yet made any music. The more they practiced
the further they seemed to be from any tune. When they all got together
and blew their instruments as hard as they could, you cannot imagine a
more wonderful noise than that which they produced! They could blow the
panes out of the windows and the leaves from the trees, but they could
not make the least little tune to save their lives.

At last the poor Miller saw that they never would make any tune, because
there was no music in them, not in one of them. They could never be
Musicians, though they were wonderful Blowers. You see, unless they
could blow tunes on their instruments no one would ever pay merely to
hear them blow; indeed, nowadays folk seldom ventured near the