My friend was thus engaged in a controversy, to
which his reputation was compromised, about a
gnaphalium. The controversy survived him. He
died in the midst of it, at the age of sixty,
withered with research, and exhausted with
anxiety, as dry and wizened a piece of humanity
as his own dried specimen. In fact, an organised
human gnaphalium.

Again the mocking voice replied, "Ay! ay!
you profess to love nature; nay, you sometimes
boast of your intimacy with her—you, the
self-styled men of science and art! yet not one of you
all dare approach her but with due preparation,
decently gloved and decorously coated. Which
of you dare for one moment discard that eternal
swallow-tailed integument, which the tailor
provides for the conventionalities that now pass
amongst men for the humanities, and fearlessly
plunge into the glowing fountain of her boundless
love? You are not natural yourselves. How, then,
can you enter into the nature of other beings?"

Again I turned round, convinced that my
ears, into which these words had been uttered,
could not have been simply the fools of my
imagination. This time my search was more
minute than before; but, though it was not
altogether without result, the mystery of the voice
remained unsolved. Lying upon the grass beside
me, I now noticed a diminutive object that looked
like the miniature caricature of a man. I
instinctively started back, almost persuaded that
I was actually in the presence of a gnome, kobold,
or wood-goblin. In a few seconds the truth was
unmistakable, and I could not but laugh at my
absurdly foolish alarm. The redoubtable wooden
goblin represented a personage splendidly
accoutred as a hussar, in crimson coat, with shining
cuirass of steel, long leathern boots, spurs, and
sabre. The countenance was grotesque, but
singularly benevolent and friendly. He had a merry
roguish eye, a prominent nose adorned under the
nostril with a heavy moustache of glossy black
horsehair, a high complexion, and a mouth of
enormous size, which had the merit of being able
to crush between its massive jaws the largest and
toughest of walnuts. In short, the toy was the
German household Institution—Nutcracker.

All my resentment and all my alarm evaporated
in a fit of laughter so spontaneous and so hearty,
that my little wooden friend himself seemed to
participate in my mirth, wagging his large jaws,
and grinning till his twinkling eyes seemed buried
in his glossy mustachios. Who could be angry in
the presence of Nutcracker? But how came
this quaint little toy here, in the furthest and
loneliest spot of the remote forest? For surely
no tree bears nutcrackers as well as nuts.
The toy could not have walked here. Nor
ridden here neither, nor driven. Unless, indeed,
Nutcracker had made a coach of me? Had I
myself brought him with me, in a fit of forgetfulness?
And had I dropped him out of my pocket
on the grass, unconsciously:—having perchance
intended that very morning to have dropped him,
elsewhere, into the lap of my darling's blue-eyed
little sister? No. But, even granting such a
supposition, how was I to account for the
mysterious voice? If it were ludicrous to believe in
a walking toy, how much more ludicrous to
believe in a talking toy; nay, to assume that the
toy in question was ready to crack metaphysical
nuts with me, as boldly as if these were the kind
of nuts for which it had been specially
manufactured. Again the little mocking voice was
in my ear. " What, Herr Professor! Still
incredulous? How hard it is to get intimate
with you man-creatures! but you are a pretty
sort of philosopher, ha! ha! angered by a gnat,
and frightened by a toy!"

I rubbed my eyes. There was Nutcracker
standing bolt upright before me, and winking
his roguish eye at me.

"You little rascal, what are you doing there?"

"Enjoying the beauties of nature, and the
society of my learned friend," replied Nutcracker,
with the utmost coolness.

"Was it you, then, that scampered past me
when I stood by the fallen bough?"

"Precisely," replied Nutcracker. " And you
may tell your precious commune when you go
back to it, that the bourgomeister, and, indeed,
all the others to boot, are no better than a pack
of barbarous blockheads. What right have you
to turn us all (myself, I mean, and my
fellow-foresters) out of house and home after this
discourteous fashion? What harm have we ever
done any of you?"

"It is certainly," said I, " a shame to destroy
this noble forest."

"I am glad, at least, that such is your opinion,"
said Nutcracker. " Listen. There is an old
walnut-chest in your house. Do you know it?"

"Yes. It is stowed away in the lumber-room.
My father would have sold it if he had lived, but
I never had the heart to part with it."

"That is lucky for you," said Nutcracker.
"It has secured you my friendship, and may be
the means of preserving it. One of the panels
of that chest is formed from a portion of the root
of a tree of which I was formerly proprietor.
The root of that tree is the root of our acquaintance,
for the fact of its being in your possession
has enabled me to establish a connexion between
us. In that old walnut-chest there is a parchment
that will establish before any court of law,
the ancient title of your family to the forest. You
must find the parchment, and enforce the claim.
But there is little time to lose. Delay will undo
us. Owing to the indifference of your father,
and your own neglect, the parchment has been
left to the mercy of the rats, and is now in a
most precarious condition. The rats have already
gnawed through the walnut-panel, and have begun
to gnaw at the parchment. If they should succeed
in nibbling off the seals and signatures, the deed
will of course be invalid. Do not forget this
when you go home. But, meanwhile, I am
anxious that we should be better acquainted. My
house is close by, and I shall be glad to conduct
you thither, as we can talk there at our ease."