"
As soon as his mother was in bed, the cobbler prepared for his watch.
First he got together all the candles in the house, and stuck them
here and there about the kitchen, and sat down to watch till they
should burn blue. After waiting some time, during which the candles
only guttered with the draughts, the cobbler decided to go to rest for
a while. "It is too early yet," he thought; "I shall see nothing till
midnight."
Very soon, however, he fell asleep; but towards morning he awoke, and
in the dim light perceived a figure in white at his bedside. It was a
blacksmith who lived near, and he had run in in his night-shirt
without so much as slippers on his feet.
"The ghost at last!" thought the cobbler, and, remembering his
mother's advice, he turned over and shut his eyes.
"Neighbour! neighbour!" cried the blacksmith, "your house is on fire!"
"An old bird is not to be caught with chaff," chuckled the cobbler to
himself; and he pulled the bed-clothes over his head.
"Neighbour!" roared the blacksmith, snatching at the quilt to drag it
off, "are you mad? The house is burning over your head. Get up for
your life!"
"I have the courage of a general, and more," thought the cobbler; and
holding tightly on to the clothes he pretended to snore.
"If you will burn, bum!" cried the blacksmith angrily, "but I mean to
save my bones"--with which he ran off.
And burnt the cobbler undoubtedly would have been, had not his
mother's cries at last convinced him that the candles had set fire to
his house, which was wrapped in flames.
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