It was, therefore,
called by the people of the neighborhood the Golden River. It was
strange that none of these streams fell into the valley itself. They all
descended on the other side of the mountains, and wound away through
broad plains and by populous cities. But the clouds were drawn so
constantly to the snowy hills, and rested so softly in the circular
hollow, that, in time of drought and heat, when all the country round
was burnt up, there was still rain in the little valley; and its crops
were so heavy, and its hay so high, and its apples so red, and its
grapes so blue, and its wine so rich, and its honey so sweet, that it
was a marvel to every one who beheld it, and was commonly called the
Treasure Valley.
The whole of this little valley belonged to three brothers, called
Schwartz, Hans, and Gluck. Schwartz and Hans, the two elder brothers,
were very ugly men, with overhanging eyebrows and small, dull eyes,
which were always half shut, so that you couldn't see into _them_, and
always fancied they saw very far into _you_. They lived by farming the
Treasure Valley, and very good farmers they were. They killed everything
that did not pay for its eating. They shot the blackbirds, because they
pecked the fruit; and killed the hedgehogs, lest they should suck the
cows; they poisoned the crickets for eating the crumbs in the kitchen;
and smothered the cicadas, which used to sing all summer in the
lime-trees.
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