The Grave-Mound

A rich farmer was standing in his yard one day, looking at his fields and gardens. The corn was growing tall and strong, and the fruit trees were heavy with fruit. The grain from the year before was still piled in such huge heaps on the barn floor that the beams could barely hold it. Then he went into the stable, where there were well-fed oxen, fat cows, and horses that shone like mirrors. At last he went back into his sitting room and glanced at the iron chest where his money lay.

While he stood there admiring his riches, suddenly there was a loud knock right beside him. The knock was not at the door of his room, but at the door of his heart. It opened, and he heard a voice that said to him, "Have you done good to your family with your wealth?

Have you thought about the needs of the poor? Have you shared your bread with the hungry? Have you been satisfied with what you have, or did you always want more?" The heart answered at once, "I have been hard and pitiless, and I have never shown any kindness to my own family.

If a beggar came, I turned my eyes away from him. I have not troubled myself about God, but have only thought of increasing my money. If everything under the sky were mine, I still would not have had enough."

When he heard this answer, he became terribly frightened. His knees began to shake, and he had to sit down.

Then there was another knock, but this time it was at the door of his room. It was his neighbor, a poor man with many children whom he could no longer feed. "I know," thought the poor man, "that my neighbor is rich, but he is just as hard as he is rich.

I don't think he will help me, but my children are crying for bread, so I will try." He said to the rich man, "You don't easily give away anything that is yours, but I stand here like someone who feels the water rising above his head. My children are starving.

Lend me four measures of corn." The rich man looked at him for a long time, and then the first ray of mercy began to melt a drop of the ice of greed. "I will not lend you four measures," he answered, "but I will give you eight measures as a present.

However, you must fulfill one condition." "What must I do?" asked the poor man. "When I am dead, you must watch at my grave for three nights." The poor man was troubled by this request, but in his great need he would have agreed to anything.

So he accepted and carried the corn home.

It seemed as if the rich man had known what was going to happen, for three days later he suddenly dropped dead. No one knew exactly how it came about, but no one grieved for him. When he was buried, the poor man remembered his promise.

He would have gladly been freed from it, but he thought, "After all, he was kind to me. I have fed my hungry children with his corn, and even if that were not so, I gave my promise and must keep it." At nightfall he went to the churchyard and sat down on the grave-mound.

Everything was quiet. Only the moon shone above the grave, and now and then an owl flew past and gave its sad cry. When the sun rose, the poor man went safely home. The second night passed just as quietly.

On the evening of the third day, he felt a strange uneasiness, as if something was about to happen. When he went out, he saw by the churchyard wall a man he had never seen before.

He was no longer young, had scars on his face, and his eyes looked sharply and eagerly around. He was wrapped in an old cloak, and only his large riding boots could be seen. "What are you looking for here?" asked the poor man. "Are you not afraid of this lonely churchyard?"

"I am not looking for anything," he answered, "and I am afraid of nothing! I am like the boy who went out to learn how to shiver, and worked hard for nothing, but got the king's daughter as his wife and great wealth with her—only I remained poor. I am just a discharged soldier, and I mean to spend the night here because I have no other shelter." "If you are not afraid," said the poor man, "stay with me and help me watch this grave."

"Watching is a soldier's job," he replied. "Whatever we come across here, good or bad, we will share it between us." The poor man agreed, and they sat down together on the grave.

All was quiet until midnight, when suddenly a shrill whistling was heard in the air, and the two watchers saw the Devil standing right in front of them. "Be off, you tramps!" he shouted at them. "The man in that grave belongs to me. I have come to take him, and if you don't go away, I will wring your necks!" "Sir with the red feather," said the soldier, "you are not my captain. I don't have to obey you, and I have not yet learned to be afraid. Go away. We will stay sitting here."

The Devil thought to himself, "Money is the best way to get hold of these two scoundrels." So he began to speak more softly and asked quite kindly if they would not accept a bag of money and go home with it. "That is worth hearing," answered the soldier, "but one bag of gold won't do for us. If you will give as much as will go into one of my boots, we will leave this place and go away."

"I don't have that much with me," said the Devil, "but I will go and get it. In the neighboring town lives a moneychanger who is a good friend of mine and will lend it to me." When the Devil had disappeared, the soldier took off his left boot and said, "We will soon trick the charcoal-burner. Just give me your knife, comrade." He cut the sole off the boot and placed it in the tall grass near the grave, at the edge of a hole that was half overgrown. "That will do," he said. "Now the chimney-sweep can come."

They both sat down and waited. It was not long before the Devil returned with a small bag of gold in his hand. "Just pour it in," said the soldier, lifting the boot a little. "But that won't be enough." The Black One shook out all that was in the bag.

The gold fell through, and the boot remained empty. "Stupid Devil!" cried the soldier. "It won't do! Didn't I say so at once? Go back and bring more." The Devil shook his head, went away, and after an hour came back with a much larger bag under his arm.

"Now pour it in," cried the soldier, "but I doubt the boot will be full." The gold clinked as it fell, but the boot stayed empty. The Devil looked in himself with his burning eyes and saw that it was true.

"You have shamefully big calves on your legs!" he shouted, making a sour face. "Did you think," replied the soldier, "that I have a cloven foot like you? Since when have you become so stingy? Go get more gold, or our deal is off!" The Wicked One went off again.

This time he stayed away longer, and when at last he appeared, he was panting under the weight of a sack on his shoulders. He emptied it into the boot, but it was just as far from being full as before.

He became furious and was about to snatch the boot out of the soldier's hands, but at that moment the first ray of the rising sun broke through the sky, and the Evil Spirit fled with loud shrieks. The poor soul was saved.

The poor man wanted to divide the gold, but the soldier said, "Give my share to the poor. I will come with you to your cottage, and together we will live in peace on what remains, as long as God allows."