once upon a time there was a fat miller who lived in the land of windmills. now that is a queer country, where the people look queer, talk and live and dress queerly, and where queer things are likely to happen at any time. so you must not be surprised if this should be a queer tale of the miller and his mill and his family; but you must take my queer word for it that the happenings were all queerly true as i shall tell them.
the miller was a thoughtful fellow, as the folk of the land of windmills are apt to be; and he had ideas. when his first son was born he sat down and thought for a long time. his baby had fine lungs; he cried louder and longer than any baby of whom the miller had ever heard, so that the father had to go out of doors to think.[106]
"he is a very remarkable child!" said the miller to himself. "his talents in the way of lung-power are extraordinary; they must be developed. i believe in deciding as soon as possible what a child shall be, according to his earliest inclinations. with his fine lungs he must become a blower of some kind; a musician,—perhaps a corneter or a flutist. but that we can decide later. i shall begin to train him immediately."
so the miller trained the lungs of his son. his first gift to the baby was an ivory whistle, and the little fellow soon learned to blow it so that his mother was nearly deafened. when he grew stronger he had a penny trumpet, and then there was a racket, to be sure! but the more noise he made the more were the miller and his good wife delighted. for they said to each other: "what wonderful talents has our son! surely he will become a great blowing musician in the days that are to be."
before he was a year old hans could blow a little bugle so loudly that all the dogs of the neighborhood would rush to the house[107] and surround it, barking. but he made no tunes on the bugle; only noise.
not long after this came a little brother for hans; and this baby showed the same talents as the first one, by day and by night filling the cottage with his sturdy bellows. you might think that this would have disturbed the peace of the miller and his 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,[108] 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[109] 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 mill, the family made such a din. and this blew trade away, even on windy days. the miller was growing poorer and poorer, and it seemed unlikely that his children would ever help him to earn their bread, for they had been brought up to blow, and that was all they knew how to do.[110]
one morning the miller went out to grind some grain which farmer huss had left the night before. huss, who was stone deaf, was the only neighbor who cared nowadays to come to the noisy mill, and naturally the miller was anxious to please him. but when he looked up at the cloudless sky he saw that there would be no grinding done that morning. there was no breeze anywhere, and the mill was sound asleep. the windmill was lazy, like all its race, and unless an urging wind was blowing it would not work at all. on breezeless days the mill slept from morning until night, and then the farmers who had brought their grain grumbled and were angry with the poor miller; which, of course, was very unreasonable. farmer huss had vowed that if his grain was not ground before noon he would never come near the miller again; and that would be bad indeed, for, deaf though he was, he remained the miller's best customer. worst of all, there was not a crust in the house, not a penny to buy bread. and although the children were now so busy blowing that they had forgotten to be hungry,[111] before night they would be crying for food. what was to be done?
hollow-eyed with hunger and anxiety, the miller sat down and stared at the motionless mill. something must be done! unless the children could help him earn a penny he must sell their flutes, trombones, trumpets, bugles, fifes, horns, oboes, cornets, bassoons, and piccolos; but what then would become of their wonderful talents for blowing?
"must all their practice be wasted?" thought the miller. "they have blown, they have blown until their breath is as strong as the wind. ha! i have an idea!" and jumping up he ran as fast as his legs would carry him to gather his little flock. "it is an ill babe that blows no good!" said the miller to himself.
the miller found his boys in the mill yard blowing on their ten instruments. hans the eldest, who was head and shoulders taller than his father, had the huge bassoon, and the baby, who was just able to toddle, grasped a piccolo. all the other brothers big and little, tall and[112] short, were tootling upon their various instruments with their cheeks bulging out like balloons; and the noise was so deafening that the bugs and beetles burrowed down into the ground to escape it, while even the fishes in the well turned over on their backs and fainted from the vibrations. whenever they were hungry the miller's sons always blew hardest, because then they forgot about their empty stomachs. although it was a still day,—so still that the windmill's arms were quite motionless,—when the children blew the notes from their instruments the smoke about the cottage chimney huddled itself together and scudded horizontally away. the trees swayed as if blown by a tempest, and the waters of the duck-pond became humpy with waves; so that the ducks were in danger of drowning. when the miller saw all this he was delighted, and his face beamed like the sun after a shower.
"good, my children, good!" he cried. "you are wonderful little blowers, and you shall make my fortune yet, though there is not one note of music in the ten of you. but look[113] now; i have an idea! gather around me and i will tell you."
the ten children dropped their instruments and crowded eagerly about the miller, for they hoped that he was going to tell them some way to get a dinner. but instead of this, he led them in a procession straight to the windmill, where it stood lazily holding out its arms for the breeze which did not come.
"look at that lazy windmill!" said the miller. "he has ground no meal for a whole day, and we have no money to buy food. now, children, open your mouths and blow, blow, as hard as you know how, to see whether you cannot blow wind into his sails and make him go."
so the ten boys stood in a row, and at a signal took in a deep breath. when the miller counted "one—two—three!" they made round mouths and blew out a long breath, straight towards the windmill's nearest arm. and lo! instantly the sails filled, and the great windmill spun around like mad,[114] whether it would or no. the miller's idea was wonderful! the children jumped up and down, clapping their hands. why had they never thought of this before? this was better than blowing instruments!
the miller told the children to keep on blowing, and ran into the mill to fill the hopper with grain. the white flour went sifting into the bags till their sides were plump and firm. in a few moments all the grain was ground, and the miller was on his way to deliver the bags to neighbor huss. and deaf old huss was so pleased to have his meal ready before he expected it that he paid the miller double, promising to call again very soon. so now the miller had money to buy bread for his children; and a fine supper they enjoyed that night, you may be sure.
best of it all was that their good luck had come to stay. the children gave up their flutes, trombones, trumpets, bugles, fifes, horns, oboes, cornets, bassoons, and piccolos, because they had decided not to be musicians, but mill-blowers instead,—which was a blow[115] to music. after all, they said, their new profession was a more distinguished one. for with practice any one can blow a blast on a trombone, but few families of ten have lungs so mighty that they can blow a windmill when it wants to stand still.
they practiced and they practiced, before and after school. and they grew so skillful that the miller declared them to be better than any breeze, for they were always ready when he wanted them. on days when no breeze was blowing and all the other windmills in the land were as quiet as the market on sunday,—then the neighbors flocked to the miller of the wonderful blowing family, and at his mill they were sure of having their grain ground quickly and well. the miller was fast growing rich. he charged double price, always; and, indeed, folk thought it was worth paying a double price to see the miller's ten blowers at their work.
they had neat little uniforms of blue and white, like figures on a tile,—blue trousers and white millers' smocks, and wooden shoes.[116] and they were trained to stand in an orderly row, with big hans at the head and chubby baby tod at the foot, all puff-cheeked, ruddy, and broad-chested from much blowing. and they blew all together,—one—two! one—two! one—two!—with a sound like a great wind in the chimney on a january night, while the windmill whirled around like a mad thing and seemed ready to blow to pieces. but the on-lookers had to be careful to put a rock in their pockets, or to hold on to something steady, lest they be blown from their feet by the blast which the children blew.
stories of the miller's wonderful family spread far and wide, and many folk came to see the little blowers at their work. they were often asked to show their skill in various ways. hans might easily have earned his living as a blacksmith's bellows, could his father have spared him from the mill. the village children often coaxed the younger blowers to blow their kites up into the sky or their sailboats down the canals. even the[117] baby earned many a penny by blowing the soot out of the cottage chimneys and the dust from corners in the goodwives' spandy floors. but the miller himself did not encourage all this. "best stick to your home mill, my sons," he said, "and good will come of it. do not waste your breath in blowing small things, and one day your breath shall blow us into fortune." and this seemed likely to be true; for every day they were becoming more famous and more rich. and all the other millers in the land were so jealous that they could not sleep o' nights.
