Hans had served his Master seven years, and at the end of that time he
said to him: "Master, since my time is up, I should like to go home to
my mother; so give me my wages, if you please."
His Master replied, "You have served me truly and honestly, Hans, and
such as your service was, such shall be your reward;" and with these
words he gave him a lump of gold as big as his head. Hans thereupon took
his handkerchief out of his pocket, and, wrapping the gold up in it,
threw it over his shoulder and set out on the road toward his native
village. As he went along, carefully setting one foot to the ground
before the other, a horseman came in sight, trotting gaily and briskly
along upon a capital animal. "Ah," said Hans, aloud, "what a fine thing
that riding is! one is seated, as it were, upon a stool, kicks against
no stones, spares one's shoes, and gets along without any trouble!"
The Rider, overhearing Hans making these reflections, stopped and said,
"Why, then, do you travel on foot, my fine fellow?"
"Because I am forced," replied Hans, "for I have got a bit of a lump to
carry home; it certainly is gold, but then I can't carry my head
straight, and it hurts my shoulder."
"If you like we will exchange," said the Rider. "I will give you my
horse, and you can give me your lump of gold."
"With all my heart," cried Hans; "but I tell you fairly you undertake a
very heavy burden."
The man dismounted, took the gold, and helped Hans on to the horse, and,
giving him the reins into his hands, said, "Now, when you want to go
faster, you must chuckle with your tongue and cry, 'Gee up! gee up!'"
Hans was delighted indeed when he found himself on the top of a horse,
and riding along so freely and gaily. After a while he thought he should
like to go rather quicker, and so he cried, "Gee up! gee up!" as the man
had told him. The horse soon set off at a hard trot, and, before Hans
knew what he was about, he was thrown over head and heels into a ditch
which divided the fields from the road. The horse, having accomplished
this feat, would have bolted off if he had not been stopped by a Peasant
who was coming that way, driving a cow before him. Hans soon picked
himself up on his legs, but he was terribly put out, and said to the
countryman, "That is bad sport, that riding, especially when one mounts
such a beast as that, which stumbles and throws one off so as to nearly
break one's neck. I will never ride on that animal again. Commend me to
your cow: one may walk behind her without any discomfort, and besides
one has, every day for certain, milk, butter, and cheese. Ah! what would
I not give for such a cow!"
"Well," said the Peasant, "such an advantage you may soon enjoy; I will
exchange my cow for your horse."
To this Hans consented with a thousand thanks, and the Peasant, swinging
himself upon the horse, rode off in a hurry.
Hans now drove his cow off steadily before him, thinking of his lucky
bargain in this wise: "I have a bit of bread, and I can, as often as I
please, eat with it butter and cheese, and when I am thirsty I can milk
my cow and have a draught: and what more can I desire?"
As soon, then, as he came to an inn he halted, and ate with great
satisfaction all the bread he had brought with him for his noonday and
evening meals, and washed it down with a glass of beer, to buy which he
spent his two last farthings. This over, he drove his cow farther, but
still in the direction of his mother's village. The heat meantime became
more and more oppressive as noontime approached, and just then Hans came
to a common which was an hour's journey across. Here he got into such a
state of heat that his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth, and he
thought to himself: "This won't do; I will just milk my cow, and refresh
myself." Hans, therefore tied her to a stump of a tree, and, having no
pail, placed his leathern cap below, and set to work, but not a drop of
milk could he squeeze out. He had placed himself, too, very awkwardly,
and at last the impatient cow gave him such a kick on the head that he
tumbled over on the ground, and for a long time knew not where he was.
Fortunately, not many hours after, a Butcher passed by, trundling a
young pig along upon a wheelbarrow. "What trick is this!" exclaimed he,
helping up poor Hans; and Hans told him that all that had passed. The
Butcher then handed him his flask and said, "There, take a drink; it
will revive you. Your cow might well give no milk: she is an old beast,
and worth nothing at the best but for the plough or the butcher!"
"Eh! eh!" said Hans, pulling his hair over his eyes, "who would have
thought it? It is all very well when one can kill a beast like that at
home, and make a profit of the flesh; but for my part I have no relish
for cow's flesh; it is too tough for me! Ah! a young pig like yours is
the thing that tastes something like, let alone the sausages!"
"Well now, for love of you," said the Butcher, "I will make an exchange,
and let you have my pig for your cow."
"Heaven reward you for your kindness!" cried Hans; and, giving up the
cow, he untied the pig from the barrow and took into his hands the
string with which it was tied.
Hans walked on again, considering how everything had happened just as he
wished, and how all his vexations had turned out for the best after all!
Presently a boy overtook him carrying a fine white goose under his arm,
and after they had said "Good-day" to each other, Hans began to talk
about his luck, and what profitable exchanges he had made. The Boy on
his part told him that he was carrying the goose to a christening-feast.
"Just lift it," said he to Hans, holding it up by its wings, "just feel
how heavy it is; why, it has been fattened up for the last eight weeks,
and whoever bites it when it is cooked will have to wipe the grease from
each side of his mouth!"
"Yes," said Hans, weighing it with one hand, "it is weighty, but my pig
is no trifle either."
While he was speaking the Boy kept looking about on all sides, and
shaking his head suspiciously, and at length he broke out, "I am afraid
it is not all right about your pig. In the village through which I have
just come, one has been stolen out of the sty of the mayor himself; and
I am afraid, very much afraid, you have it now in your hand! They have
sent out several people, and it would be a very bad job for you if they
found you with the pig; the best thing you can do is to hide it in some
dark corner!"
Honest Hans was thunderstruck, and exclaimed, "Ah, Heaven help me in
this fresh trouble! you know the neighbourhood better than I do; do you
take my pig and let me have your goose," said he to the boy.
"I shall have to hazard something at that game," replied the Boy, "but
still I do not wish to be the cause of your meeting with misfortune;"
and, so saying, he took the rope into his own hand, and drove the pig
off quickly by a side-path, while Hans, lightened of his cares, walked
on homeward with the goose under his arm. "If I judge rightly," thought
he to himself, "I have gained even by this exchange: first there is a
good roast; then the quantity of fat which will drip out will make goose
broth for a quarter of a year; and then there are fine white feathers,
which, when once I have put into my pillow I warrant I shall sleep
without rocking. What pleasure my mother will have!"
As he came to the last village on his road there stood a Knife-grinder,
with his barrow by the hedge, whirling his wheel round and singing:
"Scissors and razors and such-like I grind;
And gaily my rags are flying behind."
Hans stopped and looked at him, and at last he said, "You appear to have
a good business, if I may judge by your merry song?"
"Yes," answered the Grinder, "this business has a golden bottom! A true
knife-grinder is a man who as often as he puts his hand into his pocket
feels money in it! But what a fine goose you have got; where did you buy
it?"
"I did not buy it at all," said Hans, "but took it in exchange for my
pig." "And the pig?" "I exchanged for my cow." "And the cow?" "I
exchanged a horse for her." "And the horse?" "For him I gave a lump of
gold as big as my head." "And the gold?" "That was my wages for a seven
years' servitude." "And I see you have known how to benefit yourself
each time," said the Grinder; "but, could you now manage that you heard
the money rattling in your pocket as you walked, your fortune would be
made."
"Well! how shall I manage that?" asked Hans.
"You must become a grinder like me; to this trade nothing peculiar
belongs but a grindstone; the other necessaries find themselves. Here is
one which is a little worn, certainly, and so I will not ask anything
more for it than your goose; are you agreeable?"
"How can you ask me?" said Hans; "why, I shall be the luckiest man in
the world; having money as often as I dip my hand into my pocket, what
have I to care about any longer?"
So saying, he handed over the goose, and received the grindstone in
exchange.
"Now," said the Grinder, picking up an ordinary big flint stone which
lay near, "now, there you have a capital stone upon which only beat them
long enough and you may straighten all your old nails! Take it, and use
it carefully!"
Hans took the stone and walked on with a satisfied heart, his eyes
glistening with joy. "I must have been born," said he, "to a heap of
luck; everything happens just as I wish, as if I were a Sunday-child."
Soon, however, having been on his legs since daybreak, he began to feel
very tired, and was plagued too with hunger, since he had eaten all his
provision at once in his joy about the cow bargain. At last he felt
quite unable to go farther, and was forced, too, to halt every minute
for the stones encumbered him very much. Just then the thought overcame
him, what a good thing it were if he had no need to carry them any
longer, and at the same moment he came up to a stream. Here he resolved
to rest and refresh himself with drink, and so that the stones might not
hurt him in kneeling he laid them carefully down by his side on the
bank. This done, he stooped down to scoop up some water in his hand, and
then it happened that he pushed one stone a little too far, so that both
presently went plump into the water. Hans, as soon as he saw them
sinking to the bottom, jumped up for joy, and then kneeled down and
returned thanks, with tears in his eyes, that so mercifully, and without
any act on his part, and in so nice a way, he had been delivered from
the heavy stones, which alone hindered him from getting on.
"So lucky as I am," exclaimed Hans, "is no other man under the sun!"
Then with a light heart, and free from every burden, he leaped gaily
along till he reached his mother's house.