The next night his dream was
repeated. He was again in his garden digging, and laying open
stores of hidden wealth. There was something very singular in this
repetition. He passed another day of reverie, and though it was
cleaning day, and the house, as usual in Dutch households,
completely topsy-turvy, yet he sat unmoved amidst the general
uproar.
The third night he went to bed with a palpitating heart. He put on
his red nightcap wrong side outward, for good luck. It was deep
midnight before his anxious mind could settle itself into sleep.
Again the golden dream was repeated, and again he saw his garden
teeming with ingots and money bags.
Wolfert rose the next morning in complete bewilderment. A dream,
three times repeated, was never known to lie, and if so, his
fortune was made.
In his agitation he put on his waistcoat with the hind part before,
and this was a corroboration of good luck.[1] He no longer doubted
that a huge store of money lay buried somewhere in his cabbage
field, coyly waiting to be sought for, and he repined at having so
long been scratching about the surface of the soil instead of
digging to the center.
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