Hans in Luck
Hans had served his master for seven years, so he said to
him, "Master, my time is up, now I should be glad to go back home to my
mother, give me my wages."
The master answered, "You have served me faithfully and
honestly, as the service was so shall the reward be". And he gave Hans a
piece of gold as big as his head.
Hans pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket, wrapped up
the lump in it, put it on his shoulder, and set out on the way home.
As he went on, always putting one foot before the other, he
saw a horseman trotting quickly and merrily by on a lively horse. "Ah,
said Hans quite loud, what a fine thing it is to ride. There you sit as on a
chair, you stumble over no stones, you save your shoes, and cover the ground,
you don't know how."
The rider, who had heard him, stopped and called out,
"Hi, there, Hans, why do you go on foot, then."
"I must," answered he, "for I have this lump
to carry home, it is true that it is gold, but I cannot hold my head straight
for it, and it hurts my shoulder."
"I will tell you what," said the rider, "we
will exchange, I will give you my horse, and you can give me your lump."
"With all my heart," said Hans, "but I can
tell you, you will have to crawl along with it."
The rider got down, took the gold, and helped Hans up, then
gave him the bridle tight in his hands and said, "If you want to go at a
really good pace, you must click your tongue and call out, jup, jup."
Hans was heartily delighted as he sat upon the horse and
rode away so bold and free. After a little while he thought that it ought to go
faster, and he began to click with his tongue and call out, jup. Jup.
The horse put himself into a sharp trot, and before Hans
knew where he was, he was thrown off and lying in a ditch which separated the
field from the highway. The horse would have gone off too if it had not been
stopped by a countryman, who was coming along the road and driving a cow before
him. Hans pulled himself together and stood up on his legs again.
He was vexed, and said to the countryman, "It is a poor
joke, this riding, especially when one gets hold of a mare like this, that
kicks and throws one off, so that one has a chance of breaking one's neck.
Never again will I mount it. Now I like your cow, for one can walk quietly
behind her, and have, over and above, one's milk, butter and cheese every day
without fail. What would I not give to have such a cow."
"Well," said the countryman, "if it would
give you so much pleasure, I do not mind giving the cow for the horse."
Hans agreed with the greatest delight, the countryman jumped
upon the horse, and rode quickly away.
Hans drove his cow quietly before him, and thought over his
lucky bargain. "If only I have a morsel of bread - and that can hardly fail
me - I can eat butter and cheese with it as often as I like, if I am thirsty, I
can milk my cow and drink the milk. My goodness, what more can I want."
When he came to an inn he made a halt, and in his great
concern ate up what he had with him - his dinner and supper - and all he had,
and with his last few farthings had half a glass of beer. Then he drove his cow
onwards along the road to his mother's village.
As it drew nearer mid-day, the heat was more oppressive, and
Hans found himself upon a moor which it took about an hour to cross. He felt it
very hot and his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth with thirst.
"I can find a cure for this," thought Hans,
"I will milk the cow now and refresh myself with the milk."
He tied her to a withered tree, and as he had no pail he put
his leather cap underneath, but try as he would, not a drop of milk came. And
as he set himself to work in a clumsy way, the impatient beast at last gave him
such a blow on his head with its hind foot, that he fell on the ground, and for
a long time could not think where he was.
By good fortune a butcher just then came along the road with
a wheel-barrow, in which lay a young pig.
"What sort of a trick is this," cried he, and
helped the good Hans up. Hans told him what had happened. The butcher gave him
his flask and said, "take a drink and refresh yourself. The cow will
certainly give no milk, it is an old beast, at the best it is only fit for the
plough, or for the butcher."
"Well, well," said Hans, as he stroked his hair
down on his head, "who would have thought it. Certainly it is a fine thing
when one can kill a beast like that at home, what meat one has. But I do not
care much for beef, it is not juicy enough for me. A young pig like that now is
the thing to have, it tastes quite different, and then there are the
sausages."
"Listen, Hans," said the butcher, "out of
love for you I will exchange, and will let you have the pig for the cow."
"Heaven repay you for your kindness," said Hans as
he gave up the cow, whilst the pig was unbound from the barrow, and the cord by
which it was tied was put in his hand.
Hans went on, and thought to himself how everything was
going just as he wished, if he did meet with any vexation it was immediately
set right. Presently there joined him a lad who was carrying a fine white goose
under his arm. They said good morning to each other, and Hans began to tell of
his good luck, and how he had always made such good bargains. The boy told him
that he was taking the goose to a christening-feast.
"Just lift her," added he, "and laid hold of
her by the wings, how heavy she is - she has been fattened up for the last
eight weeks. Whosoever has a bit of her when she is roasted will have to wipe
the fat from both sides of his mouth."
"Yes," said Hans, as he weighed her in one hand,
"she is a good weight, but my pig is no bad one." Meanwhile the lad
looked suspiciously from one side to the other, and shook his head.
"Look here," he said at length, "it may not
be all right with your pig. In the village through which I passed, the mayor
himself had just had one stolen out of its sty. I fear - I fear that you have
got hold of it there. They have sent out some people and it would be a bad
business if they caught you with the pig, at the very least, you would be shut
up in the dark hole."
The good Hans was terrified. "Goodness," he said,
"help me out of this fix, you know more about this place than I do, take
my pig and leave me your goose."
"I shall risk something at that game," answered
the lad, "but I will not be the cause of your getting into trouble."
So he took the cord in his hand, and drove away the pig
quickly along a by-path. The good Hans, free from care, went homewards with the
goose under his arm.
"When I think over it properly," said he to
himself, "I have even gained by the exchange. First there is the good
roast meat, then the quantity of fat which will drip from it, and which will
give me dripping for my bread for a quarter of a year, and lastly the beautiful
white feathers. I will have my pillow stuffed with them, and then indeed I
shall go to sleep without rocking. How glad my mother will be."
As he was going through the last village, there stood a
scissors-grinder with his barrow, as his wheel whirred he sang,
I sharpen scissors and quickly grind, My coat blows out in
the wind behind.
Hans stood still and looked at him, at last he spoke to him
and said, "All's well with you, as you are so merry with your grinding.
"Yes," answered the scissors-grinder, "the
trade has a golden foundation. A real grinder is a man who as often as he puts
his hand into his pocket finds gold in it. But where did you buy that fine
goose?"
"I did not buy it, but exchanged my pig for it."
"And the pig?"
"That I got for a cow."
"And the cow?"
"I took that instead of a horse."
"And the horse?"
"For that I gave a lump of gold as big as my
head."
"And the gold?"
"Well, that was my wages for seven years of
service."
"You have known how to look after yourself each
time," said the grinder. "If you can only get on so far as to hear
the money jingle in your pocket whenever you stand up, you will have made your
fortune."
"How shall I manage that?" said Hans.
"You must be a grinder, as I am, nothing particular is
wanted for it but a grindstone, the rest finds itself. I have one here, it is
certainly a little worn, but you need not give me anything for it but your
goose, will you do it?"
"How can you ask," answered Hans. "I shall be
the luckiest fellow on earth. If I have money whenever I put my hand in my
pocket, why should I ever worry again." And he handed him the goose and
received the grindstone in exchange.
"Now," said the grinder, as he took up an ordinary
heavy stone that lay by him, "here is a strong stone for you into the
bargain, you can hammer well upon it, and straighten your old nails. Take it
with you and keep it carefully."
Hans loaded himself with the stones, and went on with a
contented heart, his eyes shining with joy. "I must have been born with a
caul," he cried, "everything I want happens to me just as if I were a
sunday-child."
Meanwhile, as he had been on his legs since daybreak, he
began to feel tired. Hunger also tormented him, for in his joy at the bargain
by which he got the cow he had eaten up all his store of food at once. At last
he could only go on with great trouble, and was forced to stop every minute,
the stones, too, weighed him down dreadfully. Then he could not help thinking
how nice it would be if he had not to carry them just then.
He crept like a snail to a well in a field, and there he
thought that he would rest and refresh himself with a cool draught of water,
but in order that he might not injure the stones in sitting down, he laid them
carefully by his side on the edge of the well. Then he sat down on it, and was
to stoop and drink, when he made a slip, pushed against the stones, and both of
them fell into the water.
When Hans saw them with his own eyes sinking to the bottom,
he jumped for joy, and then knelt down, and with tears in his eyes thanked God
for having shown him this favor also, and delivered him in so good a way, and
without his having any need to reproach himself, from those heavy stones which
had been the only things that troubled him.
"There is no man under the sun so fortunate as I,"
he cried out.
With a light heart and free from every burden he now ran on
until he was with his mother at home.
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