Cornelli
By Johanna Spyri.
Translated by Elisabeth P. Stork.
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I
Beside the Roaring Iller-Stream
Spring had come again on the banks of the Iller-Stream, and the young beech trees were swaying to and fro. One moment their glossy foliage was sparkling in the sunshine, and the next a deep shadow was cast over the leaves. A strong south wind was blowing, driving huge clouds across the sun.
A little girl with glowing cheeks and blowing hair came running through the wood. Her eyes sparkled with delight, while she was being driven along by the wind, or had to fight her way against it. From her arm was dangling a hat, which, as she raced along, seemed anxious to free itself from the fluttering ribbons in order to fly away. The child now slackened her pace and began to sing:
The snow’s on the meadow,
The snow’s all around,
The snow lies in heaps
All over the ground.
Hurrah, oh hurrah!
All over the ground.Oh cuckoo from the woods,
Oh flowers so bright,
Oh kindliest sun,
Come and bring us delight!
Hurrah, oh hurrah!
Come and bring us delight!When the swallow comes back
And the finches all sing,
I sing and I dance
For joy of the Spring.
Hurrah, oh hurrah!
For joy of the Spring.
The woods rang with her full, young voice, and her song also roused the birds, for they, too, now carolled loudly, ready to outdo each other. Laughingly the child sang once more with all her might:
Hurrah, oh hurrah!
For joy of the Spring.
and from all the branches sounded a many voiced chorus.
Right on the edge of the woods stood a splendid old beech tree with a high, firm trunk, under which the child had often sought quiet and shelter after running about in the sun. She had reached the tree now and was looking up at the far-spreading branches, which were rocking up and down.
The child, however, did not rest very long. Over where the wind struck an open space, it blew as mightily as ever, and the roaring, high up in the treetops, seemed to urge her on to new exertions. First she began fighting her way against the wind, but soon she turned. Driven by it, she flew down the steep incline to the path which led down to the narrow valley. She kept on running till she had reached a small wooden house, which looked down from a high bank to the roaring mountain stream. A narrow stairway led up from the ground to the front door of the little dwelling and to the porch, where on a wide railing were some fragrant carnations.
The lively little girl now leaped up the steps, two at a time. Soon she reached the top, and one could see that the house was familiar to her.
“Martha, Martha, come out!” she called through the open door. “Have you noticed yet how jolly the wind is today?”
A small old woman with gray hair now came out to greet the child. She was dressed in the simplest fashion, and wore a tight-fitting cap on her head. Her clothes were so very tidy and clean, however, that it seemed as if she might have sat on a chair all day for fear of spoiling them. Yet her hands told another tale, for they were roughened by hard work.
“Oh, Martha,” the child said, “I just wish you knew how wonderful the wind is today up there in the woods and on the hill. One has to fight it with all one’s might, otherwise one might be blown down the mountain side like a bird. It would be so hard then to get on one’s feet again, wouldn’t it? Oh, I wish you knew what fun it is to be out in the wind today.”
“I think I would rather not know,” said Martha, shaking the child’s hand. “It seems to me that the wind has pulled you about quite a little. Come, we’ll straighten you up again.”
The child’s thick dark hair was in a terrible state. What belonged on the left side of the parting had been blown to the right, and what belonged on the right side was thrown to the left. The little apron, instead of being in front, hung down on the side, and from the bottom of her
