lived.
[Illustration]
THE QUEEN BEE
Two King’s Sons once went out in search of adventures, and fell into a
wild, disorderly way of living, so that they never came home again. The
youngest, who was called Simpleton, set out to seek his brothers. When
at length he found them, they mocked him for thinking that he with his
simplicity could get through the world, when they two could not make
their way, and yet were so much cleverer.
They all three traveled away together, and came to an ant-hill. The two
elder wanted to destroy it, to see the little ants creeping about in
their terror, carrying their eggs away, but Simpleton said, “Leave the
creatures in peace. I will not allow you to disturb them.”
Then they went farther, and came to a lake, on which a great number
of ducks were swimming. The two brothers wanted to catch a couple and
roast them, but Simpleton would not permit it, and said, “Leave the
creatures in peace. I will not suffer you to kill them.”
At length they came to a bee’s nest, in which there was so much honey,
that it ran out of the trunk of the tree where it was. The two wanted
to make a fire under the tree, and suffocate the bees in order to take
away the honey, but Simpleton again stopped them and said, “Leave the
creatures in peace. I will not allow you to burn them.”
At last the two brothers arrived at a castle where stone horses were
standing in the stables, and no human being was to be seen. They went
through all the halls until they came to a door in which were three
locks. In the middle of the door there was a little pane, through which
they could see into the room.
There they saw a little Gray Man sitting at a table. They called him,
once, twice, but he did not hear. Then they called him for the third
time, when he got up, opened the locks, and came out. He said nothing
but led them to a handsomely-spread table; and when they had eaten and
drunk, he took each of them to a bedroom.
Next morning, the little Gray Man came to the eldest, beckoned to him,
and conducted him to a stone table, on which were inscribed three
tasks, by the doing of which the castle could be delivered. The first
was that in the forest, beneath the moss, lay the Princess’s pearls,
a thousand in number, which must be picked up. And if by sunset, one
single pearl was wanting, he who had looked for them would be turned to
stone.
The eldest went thither, and sought the whole day, but when it came
to an end, he had found only one hundred, and what was written on the
table came to pass, he was changed into stone.
Next day, the second brother undertook the adventure. It did not,
however, fare much better with him than with the eldest. He did not
find more than two hundred pearls, and was changed to stone.
At last, the turn came to Simpleton, who sought in the moss. But it was
so hard to find the pearls, and he got on so slowly, that he seated
himself on a stone, and wept. And while he was thus sitting, the King
of the Ants, whose life he had once saved, came with five thousand
ants, and before long the little creatures had got all the pearls
together, and laid them in a heap.
The second task was to fetch out of the lake the key of the King’s
Daughter’s bedchamber. When Simpleton came to the lake, the ducks which
he had saved, swam up to him, dived down, and brought the key out of
the water.
But the third task was the most difficult. From amongst the three
sleeping daughters of the King, the youngest and dearest was to be
sought out. They resembled each other exactly, and were only to be
distinguished by their having eaten different sweetmeats before they
fell asleep: the eldest a bit of sugar; the second a little syrup; and
the youngest a spoonful of honey.
Then the Queen of the Bees, which Simpleton had protected from the
fire, came and tasted the lips of all three. At last she remained
sitting on the mouth which had eaten honey; and thus the King’s Son
recognized the right Princess.
Then the enchantment was at an end. Everything was released from sleep,
and those who had been turned to stone received once more their natural
forms. Simpleton married the youngest and sweetest Princess, and after
her father’s death became King, while his two brothers received the two
other sisters.
[Illustration]
BIRD-FOUND
There was once a forester, who went into the forest to hunt. When he
entered it, he heard a screaming as if a little child was there.
He followed the sound, and at last came to a high tree. In the top of
it a little child was sitting. His mother had fallen asleep under the
tree with the child, and a bird of prey had seen him in her arms, flown
down, and snatched him away, and set him on the high tree.
The forester climbed the tree, and brought the child down. And he
thought to himself, “I will take him home, and bring him up with my
Lina.”
He took him home, and the two children grew up together. The one he had
found in a tree, he called Bird-Found, because a bird had carried it
away.
Bird-Found and Lina loved each other so dearly, that when they did not
see each other they were sad.
The forester, however, had an old cook, who one evening took two pails
and began to fetch water, and did not go once only, but many times, out
to the spring.
Lina saw this and said, “Hark you, old Sanna, why are you fetching so
much water?”
Then the cook said, “Early to-morrow morning, when the forester is out
hunting, I will heat the water. When it is boiling in the kettle, I
will throw in Bird-Found, and will boil him in it.”
Betimes next morning, the forester got up and went out hunting, and
when he was gone the children were still in bed. Then Lina said to
Bird-Found, “If you will never leave me, I will never leave you.”
Bird-Found said, “Neither now, nor ever, will I leave you.”
Then said Lina, “I will tell you. Last night, old Sanna carried so many
buckets of water into the house that I asked her why she was doing so.
She said that early to-morrow morning, when Father was out hunting, she
would set on the kettle full of water, throw you into it and boil you.
But we will get up quickly, dress ourselves, and go away together.”
The two children, therefore, got up, dressed themselves quickly, and
went away. When the water in the kettle was boiling, the cook came into
the bedroom to fetch Bird-Found and throw him into it. But when she
came in, and went to the beds, both the children were gone.
Then she was terribly frightened, and she said to herself, “What shall
I say now when the forester comes home and sees that the children are
gone? They must be followed instantly and brought back.”
Then the cook sent three servants after them, who were to run and
overtake the children.
The children, however, were sitting outside the forest, and when they
saw from afar the three servants running, Lina said to Bird-Found,
“Never leave me, and I will never leave you.”
Bird-Found said, “Neither now, nor ever.”
Then said Lina, “Do you become a rose-tree, and I the rose upon it.”
When the three servants came to the forest, nothing was there but a
rose-tree and one rose on it; the children were nowhere. Said they,
“There is nothing to be done here,” and they went home and told the
cook that they had seen nothing in the forest but a little rose-bush
with one rose on it.
Then the old cook scolded and said, “You simpletons, you should have
cut the rose-bush in two, and have broken off the rose and brought it
home with you. Go, and do it at once.”
They had therefore to go out and look for the second time. The
children, however, saw them coming from a distance.
Then Lina said, “Bird-Found, never leave me, and I will never leave
you.”
Bird-Found said, “Neither now, nor ever.”
Said Lina, “Then do you become a church, and I’ll be the chandelier in
it.”
So when the three servants came, nothing was there but a church, with
a chandelier in it. They said therefore to each other, “What can we do
here? Let us go home.” When they got home, the cook asked if they had
not found them. They said no, they had found nothing but a church, and
that there was a chandelier in it.
The cook scolded them and said, “You fools! Why did you not pull the
church to pieces, and bring the chandelier home with you?”
And now the old cook herself got on her legs, and went, with the three
servants, in pursuit of the children. The children saw from afar that
the three servants were coming, and the cook waddling after them.
Then said Lina, “Bird-Found, never leave me, and I will never leave
you.”
Then said Bird-Found, “Neither now, nor ever.”
Said Lina, “Be a fishpond, and I will be the duck upon it.”
The cook, however, came up to them, and when she saw the pond she lay
down by it, and was about to drink it up, when she fell into the water,
and there the old Witch had to drown.
Then the children went home together, and were heartily delighted, and
if they are not dead, they are living still.
[Illustration]
THE GOLDEN GOOSE
There was a man who had three sons, the youngest of whom was called
Dunderhead, and was despised, mocked, and put down on every occasion.
It happened, that the eldest wanted to go into the forest to hew wood.
Before he went his mother gave him a beautiful sweet cake and a bottle
of wine, that he might not suffer from hunger or thirst.
When he entered the forest, there met him a little old Gray Man who
bade him good-day, and said, “Do give me a piece of cake out of your
pocket, and let me have a draught of your wine. I am so hungry and
thirsty.”
But the prudent youth answered, “If I give you my cake and wine, I
shall have none for myself. Be off with you,” and he left the Little
Man standing and went on.
But when he began to hew down a tree, it was not long before he made a
false stroke, and the axe cut him in the arm. So he had to go home and
have it bound up. And this was the little Gray Man’s doing.
After this, the second son went into the forest, and his mother gave
him, like the eldest, a cake and a bottle of wine. The little old Gray
Man met him likewise, and asked him for a piece of cake and a drink of
wine. But the second son, too, said with much reason, “What I give you
will be taken away from myself. Be off!” and he left the Little Man
standing and went on.
His punishment, however, was not delayed. When he had made a few
strokes at the tree, he struck himself in the leg. So he had to be
carried home.
Then Dunderhead said, “Father, do let me go and cut wood.”
The father answered, “Your brothers have hurt themselves doing so.
Leave it alone. You do not understand anything about it.”
But Dunderhead begged so long that at last he said, “Go then. You will
get wiser by hurting yourself.”
His mother gave him a cake made with water and baked in the cinders,
and with it a bottle of sour beer.
When he came to the forest the little old Gray Man met him likewise,
and greeting him said, “Give me a piece of your cake and a drink out of
your bottle. I am so hungry and thirsty.”
Dunderhead answered, “I have only cinder-cake and sour beer. If that
pleases you, we will sit down and eat.”
So they sat down, and when Dunderhead pulled out his cinder-cake, it
was a fine sweet cake, and the sour beer had become good wine.
So they ate and drank, and after that the Little Man said, “Since you
have a good heart, and are willing to divide what you have, I will
give you good luck. There stands an old tree. Cut it down, and you will
find something at the roots.”
Then the old man took leave of him.
Dunderhead went and cut down the tree; and when it fell there was a
Goose sitting in the roots, with feathers of pure gold. He lifted her
up, and taking her with him, went to an inn, where he thought he would
stay the night. Now the host had three daughters, who saw the Goose
and were curious to know what such a wonderful bird might be. And each
wanted one of its feathers.
The eldest thought, “I shall soon find an opportunity of pulling out a
feather,” and when Dunderhead was gone out, she seized the Goose by the
wing. But her finger and hand remained sticking fast to it.
The second came in soon afterward, thinking only of how she might get a
feather for herself, but she had scarcely touched her sister than she
was held fast.
At last, the third came with the like intent, and the others screamed
out, “Keep away! For goodness’ sake keep away!”
But she did not understand why she was to keep away. “The others are
there,” she thought, “I may as well be there too,” and ran to them. But
as soon as she had touched her sister, she remained sticking fast to
her. So they had to spend the night with the Goose.
The next morning, Dunderhead took the Goose under his arm and set out,
without troubling himself about the three girls who were hanging on to
it. They were obliged to run after him, now left, now right, just as he
was inclined to go.
In the middle of the fields, the parson met them, and when he saw the
procession he said, “For shame, you good-for-nothing girls! Why are you
running across the fields after this young man? Is that seemly?” At the
same time he seized the youngest by the hand in order to pull her away.
But as soon as he touched her, he likewise stuck fast, and was obliged
to run behind. Before long, the sexton came by and saw his master, the
parson, running on foot behind three girls. He was astonished at this,
and called out, “Hi! your Reverence! Whither away so quickly? Do not
forget that we have a christening to-day!” and running after him he
took him by the sleeve, but was also held fast.
While the five were trotting thus one behind the other, two laborers
came with their hoes from the fields. The parson called out to them
and begged that they would set him and the sexton free. But they had
scarcely touched the sexton, when they were held fast. And now there
were seven of them running behind Dunderhead and the Goose.
Soon afterward, he came to a city, where a King ruled who had a
daughter who was so serious that no one could make her laugh. So he had
put forth a decree that whosoever should make her laugh should marry
her. When Dunderhead heard this, he went with his Goose and all her
train before the King’s Daughter.
As soon as she saw the seven people running on and on, one behind the
other, she began to laugh very loudly as if she would never leave off.
Thereupon Dunderhead asked to have her for his wife, and the wedding
was celebrated.
After the King’s death, Dunderhead inherited the Kingdom, and lived a
long time contentedly with his wife.
[Illustration]
MOTHER HOLLE
There was once a widow who had two daughters, one of whom was beautiful
and industrious, whilst the other was ugly and lazy. But she was much
fonder of the ugly and lazy one. Every day, the other, poor girl, had
to sit by a well in the highway, and _spin, spin_ till her fingers bled.
Now it happened, one day, that the shuttle was stained with her blood.
She dipped it in the well to wash the stains off, and it dropped out
of her hand and fell to the bottom. She began to weep, and ran to the
woman, and told her of the mishap.
She scolded her hard, and was so cruel as to say, “Since you have let
the shuttle fall in, you must fetch it out again.”
So the girl went back to the well, and did not know what to do. Then in
the anguish of her heart, she jumped into the well to get the shuttle.
She lost her senses. But when she awoke and came to herself, she was
in a lovely meadow, where the sun was shining and thousands of flowers
were growing.
Along this meadow she went, and at length came to a baker’s oven full
of bread. And the bread cried:
“_Oh, take me out! Take me out!
Or I shall burn. I am well baked!_”
So she went up to it, and, with the bread shovel, took out all the
loaves one after the other.
After that, she went on till she came to a tree covered with apples,
and it called to her:
“_Oh, shake me! Shake me!
We apples are all ripe!_”
So she shook the tree till the apples fell like rain, and went on
shaking till they were all down. And when she had gathered them into a
heap, she went on her way.
At last, she came to a little house out of which an Old Woman was
peeping. She had such large teeth that the girl was frightened, and was
about to run away.
But the Old Woman called out to her, “What are you afraid of, my Child?
Stay with me. If you will do the work in my house carefully, you shall
be the better for it! Only you must take care to make my bed well, and
to shake it thoroughly till the feathers fly--for then it snows on
earth. I am Mother Holle.”
As the Old Woman spoke so kindly to her, the girl took heart, and
willingly entered her service. She did everything to the Old Woman’s
satisfaction, and always shook her bed so hard that the feathers flew
about like snowflakes. So she lived happily with her, never an angry
word, and boiled or roasted meat every day.
She stayed some time with Mother Holle, then she grew sad. At first she
did not know what was the matter with her, but, by and by, she found
that it was homesickness. Although she was many thousand times better
off here than at home, still she had a longing to be there.
At last, she said to the Old Woman, “I am longing for home. However
well off I am down here, I cannot stay any longer. I must go up again
to my own people.”
Mother Holle said, “I am pleased that you long for your home again. You
have served me so faithfully, that I myself will take you up again.”
Thereupon she took her by the hand, and led her to a large door. The
door was opened, and just as the girl was standing beneath the doorway,
a heavy shower of Gold-Rain fell, and all the gold stuck to her so that
she was covered with it.
“You shall have that because you are so industrious,” said Mother
Holle. And at the same time, she gave her back the shuttle which she
had let fall into the well.
Thereupon the door closed, and the girl found herself again upon the
earth, not far from her mother’s house.
As she went into the yard, the cock was standing by the well, and cried:
“_Cock-a-doodle-doo!
Your Golden Girl’s came back to you!_”
So she went into her mother. And as she was thus covered with gold, she
was welcomed by both her and the sister.
[Illustration: A HEAVY SHOWER OF GOLD-RAIN FELL]
The girl told all that had happened to her. As soon as the mother heard
how she had come by such great riches, she was anxious for the same
good fortune to befall her ugly and lazy daughter. She had to seat
herself by the well and spin. And in order that her shuttle might be
stained with blood, she stuck her hand into a thorn-bush, and pricked
her finger. Then she threw her shuttle into the well, and jumped in
after it.
She came like the other to the beautiful meadow, and walked along the
very same path. When she got to the oven, the bread cried again:
“_Oh, take me out! Take me out!
Or I shall burn. I am well baked!_”
But the lazy thing answered, “As if I wanted to soil myself!” and on
she went.
Soon she came to the apple-tree, which cried:
“_Oh, shake me! Shake me!
We apples are all ripe!_”
But she answered, “I like that! One of you might fall on my head!” and
on she went.
When she came to Mother Holle’s house, she was not afraid, for she had
already heard about her big teeth. She hired herself out immediately.
The first day, she made herself work diligently, and obeyed Mother
Holle, when she told her to do anything, for she was thinking of all
the gold that she would give her.
But on the second day, she began to be lazy, and on the third day stall
more so, for then she would not get up in the morning. Neither did
she make Mother Holle’s bed carefully, nor shake it so as to make the
feathers fly up.
Mother Holle was soon tired of this, and gave her notice to leave.
The lazy girl was willing to go, and thought that now the Gold-Rain
would come. Mother Holle led her to the great doorway. But while she
was standing under it, instead of gold, a big kettleful of pitch was
emptied over her.
“That is the reward of your service,” said Mother Holle, and shut the
door.
So the lazy girl went home. She was covered with pitch, and the cock by
the well, as soon as he saw her, cried out:
“_Cock-a-doodle-doo!
Your Pitchy Girl’s come back to you!_”
But the pitch stuck fast to her, and could not be got off so long as
she lived.
[Illustration]
THE TWO TRAVELERS
Hill and vale do not come together, but the children of men do, good
and bad. In this way a shoemaker and a tailor once met with each other
in their travels.
The tailor was a handsome little fellow who was always merry and full
of enjoyment. He saw the shoemaker coming toward him from the other
side, and as he observed by his bag what kind of a trade he plied, he
sang a little mocking song to him:
_Sew me the seam,
Draw me the thread,
Spread it with pitch,
Knock the nail on the head._
The shoemaker, however, could not endure a joke. He pulled a face as if
he had drunk vinegar, and made a gesture as if he were about to seize
the tailor by the throat.
But the little fellow began to laugh, reached him his bottle, and said,
“No harm was meant, take a drink, and swallow your anger down.”
The shoemaker took a very hearty drink, and the storm on his face began
to clear away.
He gave the bottle back to the tailor, and said, “I spoke civilly to
you. One speaks well after much drinking, but not after much thirst.
Shall we travel together?”
“All right,” answered the tailor, “if only it suits you to go into a
big town where there is no lack of work.”
“That is just where I want to go,” answered the shoemaker. “In a small
nest there is nothing to earn; and in the country, people like to go
barefoot.”
They traveled therefore onward together, and always set one foot before
the other like a weazel in the snow.
Both of them had time enough, but little to bite and to break. When
they reached a town, they went about and paid their respects to the
tradesmen.
Because the tailor looked so lively and merry, and had such pretty red
cheeks, every one gave him work willingly. And when luck was good, the
master’s daughters gave him a kiss beneath the porch, as well. When he
again fell in with the shoemaker, the tailor had always the most in his
bundle.
The ill-tempered shoemaker made a wry face, and thought, “The greater
the rascal the more the luck.”
But the tailor began to laugh and to sing, and shared all he got with
his comrade. If a couple of pence jingled in his pockets, he ordered
good cheer, and thumped the table in his joy till the glasses danced,
and it was lightly come, lightly go, with him.
When they had traveled for some time, they came to a great forest
through which passed the road to the capital. Two foot-paths, however,
led through it, one of them a seven days’ journey, and the other only
two. But neither of the travelers knew which way was the short one.
They seated themselves beneath an oak-tree, and took counsel together
as to what they should do and for how many days they should provide
themselves with bread.
The shoemaker said, “One must look before one leaps. I will take with
me bread for a week.”
“What!” said the tailor, “drag bread for seven days on one’s back like
a beast of burden, and not be able to look about. I shall trust in God,
and not trouble myself about anything! The money I have in my pocket is
as good in summer as in winter; but in hot weather bread gets dry and
mouldy into the bargain. Even my coat does not go as far as it might.
Besides, why should we not find the right way? Bread for two days, and
that’s enough.”
Each, therefore, bought his own bread. And then they tried their luck
in the forest.
It was as quiet there as in a church. No wind stirred, no brook
murmured, no bird sang, and through the thickly-leaved branches, no
sunbeam forced its way.
The shoemaker spoke never a word, the heavy bread weighed down his back
until the perspiration streamed down his cross and gloomy face.
The tailor, however, was quite merry; he jumped about, whistled on a
leaf, or sang a song, and thought to himself, “God in Heaven must be
pleased to see me so happy.”
This lasted two days, but on the third the forest would not come to an
end, and the tailor had eaten up all his bread, so after all his heart
sank down a yard deeper. In the meantime, he did not lose courage, but
relied on God and on his luck.
On the third day, he lay down in the evening hungry under a tree, and
rose again next morning hungry still.
So also passed the fourth day, and when the shoemaker seated himself on
a fallen tree and devoured his dinner, the tailor was only a looker-on.
If he begged for a little piece of bread the other laughed mockingly,
and said, “You have always been so merry, now you can try for once what
it is to be sad. The birds which sing too early in the morning, are
struck by the hawk in the evening,” in short he was pitiless.