HANS AND MIZL 



DR. ALBERT SCHNEIDER. 



HANS was a little blue-eyed Ger- 

 man orphan who had been 

 "adopted" by a man and wife 

 because they thought they could 

 make good use of him; but to their 

 chagrin they were disappointed. Hans 

 had been told again and again that he 

 was an ungrateful, lazy, good for-noth- 

 ing. This was also the reason why his 

 master whipped him so frequently. 

 Now Hans was only nine years old and, 

 of course, he could not know that he 

 was so thoroughly bad unless he was 

 told and the telling of it accompanied 

 by cuffs, in order to impress this fact 

 more fully upon his dull brain. 



It was really true that Hans was lazy 

 and perhaps queer in many ways. He 

 disliked hard work, preferring to wan- 

 der about the fields and meadows, the 

 ditches, pastures, and the trees of the 

 nearby forest. He had been discovered 

 lying in the grass watching the fleeting 

 clouds overhead and listening to the 

 sighing of the wind in the tall grass 

 and the overshadowing trees. In his im- 

 agination the breezes whispered sooth- 

 ing words, soft and low. He watched 

 the busy bees, the ants, and the black car- 

 rion beetles tugging great loads up hill. 



Often he had observed a lady with two 

 children about his age going by on their 

 way to Sunday-school. With wistful 

 eyes he would watch the romping of 

 the children and listen to their excla- 

 mations of joy as they played among 

 the flowers. Sometimes the kind lady 

 would beckon to Hans and talk kindly 

 to him and make him presents. Then 

 little Hans would cry as though his 

 poor heart would break. He hid the 

 gifts in a secret nook in the granary 

 which was also his sleeping place and 

 often he would think of the kind lady 

 ,-and her happy children while the love- 

 hunger shone in his eyes. 



Mizi was only a half-starved, home- 

 less, gray kitten which came to Hans 

 while he was hoeing in the orchard. 

 The two understood each other at once, 

 and why should they not? Both were 

 homeless, friendless, and soulless. 

 Everybody knows that a cat, much less 



a stray kitten, has no soul. You may 

 say that Hans was neither a cat nor a 

 kitten, but some little boys of the 

 neighborhood had sneeringly remarked 

 that he was a "fraid-cat." Besides, his 

 master had whipped all the spirit out of 

 him. Therefore he, too, was without a 

 soul. Hans petted Mizi and gave her 

 some bread-crusts and hid her in the 

 shed to keep her out of sight of his 

 master. Mizi gained in flesh and be- 

 came very fond of Hans, and at times 

 would try to follow him, but Hans 

 would take her back and put her in a 

 more secure place. Mizi did not know 

 of the cruel master and in spite of all 

 precautions she finally made her escape 

 and searched for Hans. She could not 

 find him, so she mewed again and again 

 and finally succeeded in attracting, not 

 only the attention of Hans but also that 

 of the master who promptly picked up 

 a stone and hurled it at Mizi but for- 

 tunately missed her. It may be that 

 Mizi was not so easily frightened as 

 Hans, for in time she tried to get to him 

 even if the master was near. Poor, igno- 

 rant Mizi, she did not know that this show 

 of friendliness would get Hans into 

 trouble. The master concluded that 

 Hans was responsible for the presence 

 of Mizi and ordered him to take her 

 and kill her then and there. In agony 

 and despair Hans ran to Mizi to frighten 

 her away but she only rubbed her glossy 

 fur against him and purred gently and 

 only when the frenzied masterattempted 

 to grasp her out of the protecting arms 

 of Hans did she attempt toflee — but too 

 late! a vicious kick caught her in the 

 side but she managed to escape under 

 the protecting granary. In the evening 

 Hans went to the shed and called "Mizi, 

 Mizi," and poor, suffering Mizi dragged 

 herself far enough so that little Hans 

 might stroke her head. Hans brought 

 some bread and milk but Mizi only 

 mewed piteously. In the morning 

 Hans found Mizi stiff and cold near the 

 opening of the shed. Poor Hans, he 

 sobbed and sobbed and called, "Mizi, 

 Mizi," most piteously but Mizi did not 

 answer; her sufferings were over. 



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