THE NÜRNBERG STOVE
Reading edition
(Adapted from Ouida)
Part Two
Adherence to worthy family traditions is an admirable virtue.
We left August fast asleep inside the precious stove. The journey was long and cold, and the train stopped and started and August was jolted about until he woke up stiff and cold and sore. He ate some cheese and bread he had in his pocket and turned over the best he could, but still he was very cramped and hungry.
At last the train stopped and August felt himself lifted out of the box car and set down on the platform. He was afraid the men would find him inside, so he kept very still, although he was so cold and hungry that he almost cried. Then a cart came along and the stove and August were lifted up and carried for miles and miles and set down in a warehouse where they stayed all night. August managed to creep out in the middle of the night and get some snow and ice to quench his thirst. Then he ate the last of his bread and cheese, went to sleep on some hay, and woke up just in time to get back into the stove and pull the wrapping in place as the men came in.
The men came in early and carried the stove in another cart somewhere, then lifted it up and took it up stairs over soft carpets, and then set it down on the floor. August kept very still for he was sure this was a very grand house, and besides that, he was very weak with cold and hunger.
“What a beautiful stove!” he heard some one say as the wrappings were taken off. Then the door of the stove was opened.
“Why, here is a little child inside the stove! What does this mean?” said the same voice.
August crept out of the stove and knelt down before the grand man he saw surrounded by others in uniform.
“Oh, sir!” he exclaimed, “please let me stay with my Hirschvogel. It belonged to my mother, and we love it dearly. Please let me stay with it!”
The man was the king and he looked very kindly at August and made him tell all the story of the great stove, and about his father and his brothers and sisters and the journey he had made inside the stove. There were tears in the king’s eyes when August had finished his story.
“You must have loved the stove very much,” said he.
“Oh, yes, sir,” answered the boy; “and it would break my heart to have to give it up.”
“You need not do that, my child,” said the king, “you may live here in the palace and look after your stove if you wish.”
August was overjoyed at this. He lived in the palace and took care of the great stove for the king. In after years he became a painter on porcelain and painted many fine stoves for the great lords of the kingdom, but he never could make one as beautiful as Hirschvogel.