HANS had served his master seven years, and at the end of the seventh
year he said,
"Master, my time is up; I want to go home and see my mother, so give me
my wages."
"You have served me truly and faithfully," said the master; "as the
service is, so must the wages be," and he gave him a lump of gold as big
as his head. Hans pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and tied up
the lump of gold in it, hoisted it on his shoulder, and set off on his
way home. And as he was trudging along, there came in sight a man riding
on a spirited horse, and looking very gay and lively. "Oh!" cried Hans
aloud, "how splendid riding must be! sitting as much at one's ease as in
an arm-chair, stumbling over no stones, saving one's shoes, and getting
on one hardly knows how!"
The horseman heard Hans say this, and called out to him,
"Well Hans, what are you doing on foot?"
"I can't help myself," said Hans, "I have this great lump to carry; to
be sure, it is gold, but then I can't hold my head straight for it, and
it hurts my shoulder."
"I'll tell you what," said the horseman, "we will change; I will give
you my horse, and you shall give me your lump of gold."
"With all my heart," said Hans; "but I warn you, you will find it
heavy." And the horseman got down, took the gold, and, helping Hans up,
he gave the reins into his hand.
"When you want to go fast," said he, "you must click your tongue and cry
'Gee-up!'"
And Hans, as he sat upon his horse, was glad at heart, and rode off with
merry cheer. After a while he thought he should like to go quicker, so
he began to click with his tongue and to cry "Gee-up!" And the horse
began to trot, and Hans was thrown before he knew what was going to
happen, and there he lay in the ditch by the side of the road. The horse
would have got away but that he was caught by a peasant who was passing
that way and driving a cow before him. And Hans pulled himself together
and got upon his feet, feeling very vexed. "Poor work, riding," said he,
"especially on a jade like this, who starts off and throws you before
you know where you are, going near to break your neck; never shall I try
that game again; now, your cow is something worth having, one can jog on
comfortably after her and have her milk, butter, and cheese every day,
into the bargain. What would I not give to have such a cow!"
"Well now," said the peasant, "since it will be doing you such a favour,
I don't mind exchanging my cow for your horse."
Hans agreed most joyfully, and the peasant, swinging himself into the
saddle, was soon out of sight.
And Hans went along driving his cow quietly before him, and thinking all
the while of the fine bargain he had made.
"With only a piece of bread I shall have everything I can possibly want,
for I shall always be able to have butter and cheese to it, and if I am
thirsty I have nothing to do but to milk my cow; and what more is there
for heart to wish!"
And when he came to an inn he made a halt, and in the joy of his heart
ate up all the food he had brought with him, dinner and supper and all,
and bought half a glass of beer with his last two farthings. Then on he
went again driving his cow, until he should come to the village where
his mother lived. It was now near the middle of the day, and the sun
grew hotter and hotter, and Hans found himself on a heath which it would
be an hour's journey to cross. And he began to feel very hot, and so
thirsty that his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth.
"Never mind," said Hans; "I can find a remedy. I will milk my cow at
once." And tying her to a dry tree, and taking off his leather cap to
serve for a pail, he began to milk, but not a drop came. And as he set
to work rather awkwardly, the impatient beast gave him such a kick on
the head with his hind foot that he fell to the ground, and for some
time could not think where he was; when luckily there came by a butcher
who was wheeling along a young pig in a wheelbarrow.
"Here's a fine piece of work!" cried he, helping poor Hans on his legs
again. Then Hans related to him all that had happened; and the butcher
handed him his pocket-flask, saying,
"Here, take a drink, and be a man again; of course the cow would give no
milk; she is old and only fit to draw burdens, or to be slaughtered."
"Well, to be sure," said Hans, scratching his head. "Who would have
thought it? of course it is a very handy way of getting meat when a man
has a beast of his own to kill; but for my part I do not care much about
cow beef, it is rather tasteless. Now, if I had but a young pig, that is
much better meat, and then the sausages!"
"Look here, Hans," said the butcher, "just for love of you I will
exchange, and will give you my pig instead of your cow."
"Heaven reward such kindness!" cried Hans, and handing over the cow,
received in exchange the pig, who was turned out of his wheelbarrow and
was to be led by a string.
So on went Hans, thinking how everything turned out according to his
wishes, and how, if trouble overtook him, all was sure to be set right
directly. After a while he fell in with a peasant, who was carrying a
fine white goose under his arm. They bid each other good-day, and Hans
began to tell about his luck, and how he had made so many good
exchanges. And the peasant told how he was taking the goose to a
christening feast.
"Just feel how heavy it is," said he, taking it up by the wings; "it has
been fattening for the last eight weeks; and when it is roasted, won't
the fat run down!"
"Yes, indeed," said Hans, weighing it in his hand, "very fine to be
sure; but my pig is not to be despised."
Upon which the peasant glanced cautiously on all sides, and shook his
head.
"I am afraid," said he, "that there is something not quite right about
your pig. In the village I have just left one had actually been stolen
from the bailiff's yard. I fear, I fear you have it in your hand; they
have sent after the thief, and it would be a bad look-out for you if it
was found upon you; the least that could happen would be to be thrown
into a dark hole."
Poor Hans grew pale with fright. "For heaven's sake," said he, "help me
out of this scrape, I am a stranger in these parts; take my pig and give
me your goose."
"It will be running some risk," answered the man, "but I will do it
sooner than that you should come to grief." And so, taking the cord in
his hand, he drove the pig quickly along a by-path, and lucky Hans went
on his way home with the goose under his arm. "The more I think of it,"
said he to himself, "the better the bargain seems; first I get the roast
goose; then the fat; that will last a whole year for bread and dripping;
and lastly the beautiful white feathers which I can stuff my pillow
with; how comfortably I shall sleep upon it, and how pleased my mother
will be!"
And when he reached the last village, he saw a knife-grinder with his
barrow; and his wheel went whirring round, and he sang,
"My scissors I grind, and my wheel I turn;
And all good fellows my trade should learn,
For all that I meet with just serves my turn."
And Hans stood and looked at him; and at last he spoke to him and said,
"You seem very well off, and merry with your grinding."
"Yes," answered the knife-grinder, "my handiwork pays very well. I call
a man a good grinder who, every time he puts his hand in his pocket
finds money there. But where did you buy that fine goose?"
"I did not buy it, but I exchanged it for my pig," said Hans.
"And the pig?"
"That I exchanged for a cow."
"And the cow?"
"That I exchanged for a horse."
"And the horse?"
"I gave for the horse a lump of gold as big as my head."
"And the gold?"
"Oh, that was my wage for seven years' service."
"You seem to have fended for yourself very well," said the
knife-grinder. "Now, if you could but manage to have money in your
pocket every time you put your hand in, your fortune is made."
"How shall I manage that?" said Hans.
"You must be a knife-grinder like me," said the man. "All you want is a
grindstone, the rest comes of itself: I have one here; to be sure it is
a little damaged, but I don't mind letting you have it in exchange for
your goose; what say you?"
"How can you ask?" answered Hans. "I shall be the luckiest fellow in the
world, for if I find money whenever I put my hand in my pocket, there is
nothing more left to want."
And so he handed over the goose to the pedlar and received the
grindstone in exchange.
"Now," said the knife-grinder, taking up a heavy common stone that lay
near him, "here is another proper sort of stone that will stand a good
deal of wear and that you can hammer out your old nails upon. Take it
with you, and carry it carefully."
Hans lifted up the stone and carried it off with a contented mind. "I
must have been born under a lucky star!" cried he, while his eyes
sparkled for joy. "I have only to wish for a thing and it is mine."
After a while he began to feel rather tired, as indeed he had been on
his legs since daybreak; he also began to feel rather hungry, as in the
fulness of his joy at getting the cow, he had eaten up all he had. At
last he could scarcely go on at all, and had to make a halt every
moment, for the stones weighed him down most unmercifully, and he could
not help wishing that he did not feel obliged to drag them along. And on
he went at a snail's pace until he came to a well; then he thought he
would rest and take a drink of the fresh water. And he placed the stones
carefully by his side at the edge of the well; then he sat down, and as
he stooped to drink, he happened to give the stones a little push, and
they both fell into the water with a splash. And then Hans, having
watched them disappear, jumped for joy, and thanked his stars that he
had been so lucky as to get rid of the stones that had weighed upon him
so long without any effort of his own.
"I really think," cried he, "I am the luckiest man under the sun." So on
he went, void of care, until he reached his mother's house.