Bron and Kruge by Frank R. Stockton — Read

Old King Rhine sat upon his rocky throne among the reeds. He had given his kingly word that for three months his river, the Rhine, should not overflow its banks, and that there should be no manner of tempest upon its waters. The old gentleman was sad and gloomy. A month had passed since he gave this promise, and all that time he had had nothing to do. This was hard upon him, for he had led a very busy life. Many an army had he helped across his river, and many a one had he broken to pieces with floods, and tempests. Christians and savages, knights and nobles, and men of low degree had fought upon his banks. Men had built castles, and he had swept them away, or crumbled them into ruins. And, sometimes, he had helped beautify them, and spread grass and flowers all around them. And he had occupied himself in many other ways.

And now there was nothing for him to do. He looked up and down the length of the stream. The waters were still and blue, and vessels glided over them, and the little boats rocked gaily on the swelling waves. At the wharves of the cities men were busy loading and unloading the ships, and all rejoiced in the pleasant and prosperous season. On the hill-sides the vineyards were as full of grapes as ever they could be, and the vines found their way up the very walls of the ruined castles, and hung their purple clusters on the loosened stones.