Hans in Luck

Hans had served his master for seven years, so he said to him, "Master, my time is up; now I want to go 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 walked, always putting one foot in front of 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 you get along without knowing how."

The rider, who had heard him, stopped and called out, "Hello! Hans, why are you walking, then?"

"I have to," answered he, "for I have this lump to carry home; it is true that it is gold, but I cannot hold my head straight because of it, and it hurts my shoulder."

"I'll tell you what," said the rider, "we will swap: 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 he gave him the reins tight in his hands and said, "If you want to go really fast, you must click your tongue and call out 'Jup! Jup!'"

Hans was very happy as he sat on the horse and rode away so bold and free. After a little while he thought it ought to go faster, and he began to click his tongue and call out, "Jup! Jup!" The horse broke into a sharp trot, and before Hans knew where he was, he was thrown off and lying in a ditch that separated the field from the road. The horse would have run off too if it had not been stopped by a farmer who was coming along the road driving a cow before him.

Hans got his limbs together and stood up again, but he was annoyed and said to the farmer, "Riding is a poor joke, especially when you get a mare like this that kicks and throws you off, so you could break your neck. Never again will I mount it.

Now I like your cow, because you can walk quietly behind her and have your milk, butter, and cheese every day without fail. What wouldn't I give to have such a cow!" "Well," said the farmer, "if it would give you so much pleasure, I don't mind giving you the cow for the horse." Hans agreed with great delight; the farmer jumped on the horse and rode quickly away.

Hans drove his cow quietly before him and thought over his lucky bargain. "If only I have a piece 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. Dear me, what more could I want?"

When he came to an inn he stopped, and in his great contentment ate up everything he had—his dinner and supper—and all he had, and with his last few coins he had half a glass of beer. Then he drove his cow onward along the road to his mother's village.

As it drew nearer to midday, the heat became more oppressive, and Hans found himself on a moor that took about an hour to cross. He felt very hot, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth with thirst.

"I can fix this," thought Hans; "I will milk the cow now and refresh myself with the milk." He tied her to a withered tree, and since he had no pail he put his leather cap underneath; but try as he would, not a drop of milk came.

And as he clumsily kept at it, the impatient beast at last gave him such a blow on the head with its hind foot that he fell to the ground, and for a long time could not think where he was.

By good luck a butcher just then came along the road with a wheelbarrow, in which lay a young pig. "What kind of trick is this?" he cried, and helped good Hans up. Hans told him what had happened.

The butcher gave him his flask and said, "Have a drink and refresh yourself. The cow will certainly give no milk; it is an old beast. At best it is only fit for the plow or for the butcher." "Well, well," said Hans, as he stroked his hair, "who would have thought it?

Certainly it is a fine thing to be able to kill a beast like that at home; what meat you would have! But I don't care much for beef; it is not juicy enough for me.

A young pig like that 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 swap, and let you have the pig for the cow." "May heaven reward you for your kindness!" said Hans as he gave up the cow, while the pig was untied from the barrow and the cord 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 trouble, it was immediately fixed. Presently there joined him a boy 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 trades. The boy told him that he was taking the goose to a christening feast.

"Just lift her," he added and took hold of her by the wings; "how heavy she is—she has been fattened up for the last eight weeks. Whoever gets 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 not bad either."

Meanwhile the boy looked suspiciously from side to side and shook his head. "Look here," he said at last, "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. 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 locked up in the dark hole."

Good Hans was terrified. "Heavens!" 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'll be taking a risk that way," answered the boy, "but I will not be the cause of you getting into trouble." So he took the cord in his hand and drove the pig quickly away along a side path.

The good Hans, free from worry, went homeward with the goose under his arm. "When I think about it properly," he said to himself, "I have even gained by the trade: first there is the good roast meat, then the fat that will drip from it and give me dripping for my bread for a quarter of a year, and lastly the beautiful white feathers; I'll have my pillow stuffed with them, and then I'll 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 is well with you, since 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 in his pocket, finds gold in it. But where did you buy that fine goose?"

"I didn't buy it, but traded my pig for it."

"And the pig?"

"I got that 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' service."

"You have known how to take care of yourself each time," said the grinder. "If you can only get far enough 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 special is needed 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 except 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, what need I worry about anymore?" And he handed him the goose and received the grindstone in exchange. "Now," said the grinder, as he picked up an ordinary heavy stone that lay nearby, "here is a strong stone for you into the bargain; you can hammer well on 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 shone with joy. "I must have been born lucky," he cried; "everything I want happens to me just as if I were a Sunday child."

Meanwhile, since 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 did not have to carry them just then.

He crept like a snail to a well in a field, and there he thought he would rest and refresh himself with a cool drink of water; but to avoid damaging the stones when sitting down, he laid them carefully by his side on the edge of the well.

Then he sat down on the edge and was about to bend over and drink, when he slipped, 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 too, and for delivering him so well, without his needing to blame himself, from those heavy stones that had been the only things troubling him.

"There is no man under the sun as lucky as I," he cried out. With a light heart and free from any burden he now ran on until he was with his mother at home.