Chapter IV: Part 4

At last the Woodman turned round and declared he would not work more unless his Wife gave him Khichri for his dinner; so with a very bad grace the old woman took some rice and pulse, some butter and spices, and began to cook a savory Khichri. What an appetizing smell it had, to be sure! The Woodman was for gobbling it up as soon as ever it was ready. “No, no,” cried the greedy old Wife, not till you have brought me in another load of Wood; and mind it is a good one. You must work for your dinner.”

So the old man set off to the forest and began to hack and to hew with such a will that he soon had quite a large bundle, and with every faggot he cut he seemed to smell the savory Khichri and think of the feast that was coming.

Just then a Bear came swinging by, with its great black nose tilted in the air, and its little keen eyes peering about; for bears, though good enough fellows on the whole, are just dreadfully inquisitive.

“Peace be with you, friend,” said the Bear, “and what may you be going to do with that remarkably large bundle of wood?”

“It is for my Wife,” returned the Woodman. “The fact is,” he added confidentially, smacking his lips, “she has made such a Khichri for dinner! and if I bring in a good bundle of wood she is pretty sure to give me a plentiful portion. Oh, my dear fellow, you should just smell that Khichri.”

At this the Bear’s mouth began to water, for, like all bears, he was a dreadful glutton.

“Do you think your Wife would give mite some, too, if I brought her a bundle of wood?” he asked anxiously.

“Perhaps; if it is a very big load,” answered the Woodman craftily.

“Would—would four hundredweight be enough?” asked the Bear.

“I’m afraid not,” returned the Woodman, shaking his head; “you see Khichri is an expensive dish to make—there is rice in it, and plenty of butter, and pulse, and—”

“Would—would eight hundredweight do?”

“Say half a ton, and it’s a bargain!” quoth the Woodman.

“Half a ton is a large quantity!” sighed the Bear.

“There is saffron in the Khichri,” remarked the Woodman, casually.

The Bear licked his lips, and his little eyes twinkled with greed and delight.

“Well it’s a bargain! Go home sharp and tell your Wife to keep the Khichri hot; I’ll be with you in a trice.”

Away went the Woodman in great glee to tell his Wife how the Bear had agreed to bring half a ton of wood in return for a share of the Khichri.

Now the wife could not help allowing that her husband had made a good bargain, but being by nature a grumbler, she was determined not to be pleased, so she began to scold the old man for not having settled exactly the share the Bear was to have. “For,” said she, “he will gobble up the potful before we have finished our first helping.”

On this the Woodman became quite pale. “In that case,” he said, “we had better begin now, and have a fair start.” So without more ado they squatted down on the floor, with the brass pot full of Khichri between them, and began to eat as fast as they could.

“Remember to leave some for the Bear, Wife,” said the Woodman, speaking with his mouth crammed full.

“Certainly, certainly,” she replied, helping herself to another handful.

“My dear,” cried the old woman in her turn, with her mouth so full she could hardly speak, “remember the poor Bear!”

“Certainly, certainly, my love!” returned the old man, taking another mouthful.

So it went on, till there was not a single grain left in the pot.

“What’s to be done now?” said the Woodman; “it is all your fault, Wife, for eating so much.”

“My fault!” retorted his Wife scornfully, “why, you ate twice as much as I did!”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did! Men always eat more than women.

“No, they don’t!”

“Yes, they do!”

“Well, it’s no use quarreling about it now,” said the Woodman, “the Khichri’s gone, and the Bear will be furious.”

“That wouldn’t matter much if we could get the wood,” said the greedy old woman. “I’ll tell you what we must do—we must lock up everything there is to eat in the house, leave the Khichri pot by the fire, and hide in the garret. When the Bear comes he will think we have gone out and left his dinner for him. Then he will throw down his bundle and come in. Of course he will rampage a little when he finds the pot is empty, but he can’t do much mischief, and I don’t think he will take the trouble of carrying the wood away.”

So they made haste to lock up all the food and hide themselves in the garret.

Meanwhile the Bear had been toiling and moiling away at his bundle of wood, which took him much longer to collect than he expected; however, at last he arrived quite exhausted at the woodcutter’s cottage. Seeing the brass Khichri pot by the fire, he threw down his load and went in. And then—mercy! wasn’t he angry when he found nothing in it—not even a grain of rice, nor a tiny wee bit of pulse, but only a smell that was so uncommonly nice that he actually cried with rage and disappointment. He flew into the most dreadful temper, but though he turned the house topsy-turvy, he could not find a morsel of food. Finally, he declared he would take the wood away again, but, as the crafty old woman had imagined, when he came to the task, he did not care, even for the sake of revenge, to carry so heavy a burden.

“I won’t go away empty-handed,” said he to himself, seizing the Khichri pot; “if I can’t get the taste I’ll have the smell!”

Now, as he left the cottage, he caught sight of the beautiful golden pears hanging over into the yard. His mouth began to water at once, for he was desperately hungry, and the pears were the best of the season. In a trice he was on the wall, up the tree, and gathering the biggest and ripest one he could find, was just putting it into his mouth when a thought struck him.

“If I take these pears home I shall be able to sell them for ever so much to the other bears, and then with the money I shall be able to buy some Khichri. Ha, ha! I shall have the best of the bargain after all!”

So saying, he began to gather the ripe pears as fast as he could and put them in the Khichri pot, but whenever he came to an unripe one he would shake his head and say, “No one would buy that, yet it is a pity to waste it.” So he would pop it into his mouth and eat it, making wry faces if it was very sour.

Now all this time the Woodman’s Wife had been watching the Bear through a crevice, and holding her breath for fear of discovery; but, at last, what with being asthmatic, and having a cold in her head, she could hold it no longer, and just as the Khichri pot was quite full of golden ripe pears, out she came with the most tremendous sneeze you ever heard—“A-h-che-u!”

The Bear, thinking some one had fired a gun at him, dropped the Khichri pot into the cottage yard, and fled into the forest as fast as his legs would carry him.

So the Woodrnan and his Wife got the Khichri, the wood, and the coveted pears, but the poor bear got nothing but a very bad stomachache from eating unripe fruit.

THE THIEF AND THE FOX

By Ramaswarni Raju

A man tied his horse to a tree and went into an inn. A Thief hid the horse in a wood, and stood near the tree as if he had not done it.

“Did you see my horse?” said the man.

“Yes,” said the Thief, “I saw the tree eat up your horse.”

“How could the tree eat up my horse?” said the man.

“Why it did so,” said the Thief.

The two went to a Fox and told him of the case. The Fox said. “I am dull. All last night the sea was on fire; I had to throw a great deal of hay into it to quench the flames; so come to-morrow, and I shall hear your case.

“Oh, you lie,” said the Thief. “How could the sea burn? How could hay quench the flames?”

“Oh, you lie,” said the Fox, with a loud laugh; “how could a tree eat up a horse?”

The Thief saw his lie had no legs, and gave the man his horse.

THE FARMER AND THE FOX

By Ramaswami Raju

A farmer was returning from a fair which he had attended the previous day at a neighboring market town. He had a quantity of poultry which he had purchased. A Fox observed this, and approaching the Farmer, said, “Good morning, my friend.”

“What cheer, old fellow?” said the Farmer.

“I am just coming from the wood, through which you mean to go with your poultry. A band of highwaymen has been tarrying there since daybreak.”

“Then what shall I do?” said the Farmer.

“Why,” said the Fox, “if I were you I should stay here a while, and after breakfast enter the wood, for by that time the robbers will have left the place.”

“So be it,” said the Farmer, and had a hearty breakfast, with Reynard for his guest.

They kept drinking for a long time. Reynard appeared to have lost his wits; he stood up and played the drunkard to perfection. The Farmer, who highly admired the pranks of his guest, roared with laughter, and gradually fell into a deep slumber. It was some time after noon when he awoke. To his dismay he found that the Fox was gone, and that the poultry had all disappeared!

“Alas!” said the Farmer, as he trudged on his way home with a heavy heart, “I thought the old rogue was quite drowned in liquor, but I now see it was all a pretense. One must indeed be very sober to play the drunkard to perfection.”

THE FOOLS AND THE DRUM

By Ramaswami Raju

Two fools heard a Drum sounding, and said to themselves, There is some one inside it who makes the noise.”

So, watching a moment, when the drummer was out, they pierced a hole in each side of it, and pushed their hands in. Each felt the hand of the other within the Drum, and exclaimed, “I have caught him!”

Then one said to the other, “Brother, the fellow seems to be a stubborn knave; come what will, we should not give in.”

“Not an inch, brother,” said the other.

So they kept pulling each other’s hand, fancying it was the man in the Drum. The drummer came up, and finding them in such an awkward plight showed them with his fist who the man in the Drum really was. But as his fine Drum was ruined, he said, with a sigh, “Alas! Fools have fancies with a triple wing!”

THE LION AND THE GOAT

By Ramaswami Raju

A lion was eating up one after another the animals of a certain country. One day an old Goat said, “We must put a stop to this. I have a plan by which he may be sent away from this part of the country.”

“Pray act up to it at once,” said the other animals.

The old Goat laid himself down in a cave on the roadside, with his flowing beard and long curved horns. The Lion, on his way to the village, saw him, and stopped at the mouth of the cave.

“So you have come, after all,” said the Goat.

“What do you mean?” said the Lion.

“Why, I have long been lying in this cave. I have eaten up one hundred elephants, a hundred tigers, a thousand wolves, and ninety-nine lions. One more lion has been wanting. I have waited long and patiently. Heaven has, after all, been kind to me,” said the Goat, and shook his horns and his beard, and made a start as if he were about to spring upon the Lion.

The latter said to himself, “This animal looks like a Goat, but it does not talk like one. So it is very likely some wicked spirit in this shape. Prudence often serves us better than valor, so for the present I shall return to the wood,” and he turned back.

The Goat rose up, and, advancing to the mouth of the cave, said, “Will you come back tomorrow?”

“Never again,” said the Lion.

“Do you think I shall be able to see you, at least, in the wood to-morrow?”

“Neither in the wood nor in this neighborhood any more,” said the Lion, and running to the forest, soon left it with his kindred.

The animals in the country, not hearing him roar any more, gathered round the Goat, and said, “The wisdom of one doth save a host.”

THE GLOWWORM AND THE JACKDAW

By Ramaswami Raju

Jackdaw once ran up to a Glowworm and was about to seize him. “Wait a moment, good friend,” said the Worm, “and you shall hear something to your advantage.”

“Ah! what is it?” said the Daw.

“I am but one of the many glowworms that live in this forest. If you wish to have them all, follow me,” said the Glowworm.

“Certainly!” said the Daw.

Then the Glowworm led him to a place in the wood where a fire had been kindled by some woodmen, and pointing to the sparks flying about, said, “There you find the glowworms warming themselves round a fire. When you have done with them I shall show you some more, at a distance from this place.”

The Daw darted at the sparks and tried to swallow some of them, but his mouth being burned by the attempt, he ran away exclaiming, “Ah, the Glowworm is a dangerous little creature!”

THE CAMEL AND THE PIG

By Ramaswami Raju

A camel said, “Nothing like being tall! Look how tall I am!”

A Pig, who heard these words, said, “Nothing like being short! Look how short I am!”

The Camel said, “Well, if I fail to prove the truth of what I said. I shall give up my hump.”

The Pig said, “If I fail to prove the truth of what I have said, I shall give up my snout.”

“Agreed!” said the Camel.

“Just so!” said the Pig.

They came to a garden, inclosed by a low wall without any opening. The Camel stood on this side of the wall, and reaching the plants within by means of his long neck, made a breakfast on them. Then he turned, jeeringly to the Pig, who had been standing at the bottom of the wall, without even having a look at the good things in the garden, and said, “Now, would you be tall or short?”

Next they came to a garden, inclosed by a high wall, with a wicket gate at one end. The Pig entered by the gate, and, after having eaten his fill of the vegetables within, came out, laughing at the poor Camel, who had had to stay outside because he was too tall to enter the garden by the gate, and said, “Now, would you be tall or short?”

Then they thought the matter over and came to the conclusion that the Camel should keep his hump and the Pig his snout, observing, “Tall is good, where tall would do; of short, again, ’tis also true!”

THE DOG AND THE DOG DEALER

By Ramaswami Raju

A dog was standing by the cottage of a peasant. A man who dealt in dogs passed by the way. The Dog said, “Will you buy me?”

The man said, “Oh, you ugly little thing! I would not give a quarter of a penny for you!”

Then the Dog went to the palace of the king and stood by the portal. The sentinel caressed it, and said, “You are a charming little creature!”

Just then the Dog Dealer came by. The Dog said, “Will you buy me?”

“Oh,” said the man, “you guard the palace of the king, who must have paid a high price for you. I cannot afford to pay the amount, else I would willingly take you.”

“Ah!” said the Dog, “how place and position affect people!”

THE TIGER, THE FOX, AND THE HUNTERS

By Ramaswami Raju

A fox was once caught in a trap. A hungry Tiger saw him and said, “So you are here!”

“Only on your account,” said the Fox in a whisper.

“How so?” said the Tiger.

“Why, you were complaining you could not get men to eat, so I got into this net to-day, that you may have the men when they come to take me,” said the Fox, and gave a hint that if he would wait a while in a thicket close by he would point out the men to him.

“May I depend upon your word?” said the Tiger.

“Certainly,” said the Fox.

The Hunters came, and seeing the Fox in the net, said, “So you are here!”

“Only on your account,” said the Fox, in a whisper.

“How so?” said the men.

“Why, you were complaining you could not get at the Tiger that has been devouring your cattle; I got into this net to-day that you may have him. As I expected, he came to eat me up, and is in yonder thicket,” said the Fox, and gave a hint that if they would take him out of the trap he would point out the Tiger.

“May we depend upon your word?” said the men.

“Certainly,” said the Fox, while the men went with him in a circle to see that he did not escape.

Then the Fox said to the Tiger and the men, “Sir Tiger, here are the men; gentlemen, here is the Tiger.”

The men left the Fox and turned to the Tiger. The former beat a hasty retreat to the wood, saying, “I have kept my promise to both; now you may settle it between yourselves.”

The Tiger exclaimed, when it was too late, “Alas! what art for a double part!”

THE SEA, THE FOX, AND THE WOLF

By Ramaswami Raju

A fox that lived by the seashore once met a Wolf that had never seen the Sea. The Wolf said, “What is the Sea?”

“It is a great piece of water by my dwelling,” said the Fox.

“Is it under your control?” said the Wolf.

“Certainly,” said the Fox.

“Will you show me the Sea, then?” said the Wolf.

“With pleasure,” said the Fox. So the Fox led the Wolf to the Sea and said to the waves, “Now go back”—they went back! “Now come up”—and they came up! Then the Fox said to the waves, “My friend, the Wolf, has come to see you, so you will come up and go back till I bid you stop; and the Wolf saw with wonder the waves coming up and going back.

He said to the Fox, “May I go into the Sea?”

“As far as you like. Don’t be afraid, for at a word, the Sea would go or come as I bid, and as you have already seen.”

The Wolf believed the Fox, and followed the waves rather far from the shore. A great wave soon upset him, and threw his carcass on the shore. The Fox made a hearty breakfast on it.

THE FOX IN THE WELL

By Ramaswami Raju

A fox fell into a well and was holding hard to some roots at the side of it, just above the water. A Wolf, who was passing by, saw him, and said, “Hello, Reynard, after all you have fallen into a well!”

“But not without a purpose, and not without the means of getting out of it,” said the Fox.

“What do you mean?” said the Wolf.

“Why,” said the Fox, “there is a drought all over the country now, and the water in this well is the only means of appeasing the thirst of the thousands that live in this neighborhood. They held a meeting, and requested me to keep the water from going down lower; so I am holding it up for the public good.”

“What will be your reward?” said the Wolf.

“They will give me a pension, and save me the trouble of going about every day in quest of food, not to speak of innumerable other privileges that will be granted me. Further, I am not to stay here all day. I have asked a kinsman of mine, to whom I have communicated the secret of holding up the water, to relieve me from time to time. Of course he will also get a pension, and have other privileges. I expect him here shortly.”

“Ah, Reynard, may I relieve you, then? May I hope to get a pension and other privileges? You know what a sad lot is mine, especially in winter.”

“Certainly,” said the Fox; “but you must get a long rope, that I may come up and let you in.

So the Wolf got a rope. Up came the Fox and down went the wo1f, when the former observed, with a laugh, “My dear sir, you may remain there till doomsday, or till the owner of the well throws up your carcass,” and left the place.

ASHIEPATTLE AND HIS GOODLY CREW

By P. C. Asbjörnsen

Once upon a time there was a king, and this king had heard about a ship which went just as fast by land as by water; and as he wished to have one like it, he promised his daughter and half the kingdom to anyone who could build one for him. And this was given out at every church all over the country. There were many who tried, as you can imagine; for they thought it would be a nice thing to have half the kingdom, and the princess wouldn’t be a bad thing into the bargain. But they all fared badly.

Now there were three brothers, who lived far away on the borders of a forest; the eldest was called Peter, the second Paul, and the youngest Espen Ashiepattle, because he always sat in the hearth, raking and digging in the ashes.

It so happened that Ashiepattle was at church on the Sunday when the proclamation about the ship, which the king wanted, was read. When he came home amid told his family, Peter, the eldest, asked his mother to get some food ready for him, for now he was going away to try if he could build the ship and win the princess and half the kingdom. When the bag was ready lie set out. On the way he met an old man who was very crooked and decrepit.

“Where are you going?” said the man.

“I’m going into the forest to make a trough for my father. He doesn’t like to eat at table in our company,” said Peter.

“Trough it shall he!” said the man. “What have you got in that bag of yours?” he added.

“Stones,” said Peter.

“Stones it shall be,” said the man. Peter then went into the forest and began to cut and chop away at the trees and work away as hard as he could, but in spite of all his cutting and chopping he could only turn out troughs. Toward dinner time he wanted something to eat and opened his bag. But there was not a crumb of food in it. As he had nothing to live upon, and as he did not turn out anything but troughs, he became tired of the work, took his ax and bag on his shoulder, and went home to his mother.

Paul then wanted to set out to try his luck at building the ship and winning the princess and half the kingdom. He asked his mother for provisions, and when the bag was ready he threw it over his shoulder and went on his way to the forest. On the road he met the old man, who was very crooked and decrepit.

“Where are you going?” said the man.

“Oh, I am going into the forest to make a trough for our sucking pig,” said Paul.

“Pig trough it shall be,” said the man. “What have you got in that bag of yours?” added the man.

“Stones,” said Paul.

“Stones it shall be,” said the man.

Paul then began felling trees and working away as hard as he could, but no matter how he cut and how he worked he could only turn out pig troughs. He did not give in, however, but worked away till far into the afternoon before he thought of taking any food; then all at once he became hungry and opened his bag, but not a crumb could he find. Paul became so angry he turned the bag inside out and struck it against the stump of a tree; then lie took his ax, went out of the forest, and set off homeward.

As soon as Paul returned, Ashiepattle wanted to set out and asked his mother for a bag of food.

“Perhaps I can manage to build the ship and win the princess and half the kingdom,” said he.

“Well, I never heard the like,” said his mother. “Are you likely to win the princess, you, who never do anything but root and dig in the ashes? No, you shan’t have any bag with food!”

Ashiepattle did not give in, however, but he prayed and begged till he got leave to go. He did not get any food, not he; but he stole a couple of oatmeal cakes and some flat beer and set out.

When he had walked a while he met the same old man, who was so crooked and tattered and decrepit.

“Where are you going?” said the man.

“Oh, I was going into the forest to try if it were possible to build a ship which can go as fast by land as by water,” said Ashiepattle, “for the king has given out that anyone who can build such a ship shall have the princess and half the kingdom.”

“What have you got in that bag of yours?” said the man.

“Not much worth talking about; there ought to be a little food in it,” answered Ashiepattle.

“If you’ll give me a little of it I’ll help you, said the man.

“With all my heart,” said Ashiepattle, “but there is nothing but some oatmeal cakes and a drop of flat beer.”

It didn’t matter what it was, the man said; if he only got some of it he would be sure to help Ashiepattle.

When they came up to an old oak in the wood the man said to the lad, “Now you must cut off a chip and then put it back again in exactly the same place, and when you have done that you can lie down and go to sleep.”

Ashiepattle did as he was told and then lay down to sleep, and in his sleep lie thought he heard somebody cutting and hammering and sawing and carpentering, but he could not wake up till the man called him; then the ship stood quite finished by the side of the oak.

“Now you must go on board and everyone you meet you must take with you,” said the man. Espen Ashiepattle thanked him for the ship, said he would do so, and then sailed away.

When he had sailed some distance he came to a long, thin tramp, who was lying near some rocks, eating stones.

“What sort of a fellow are you, that you lie there eating stones?” asked Ashiepattle. The tramp said he was so fond of meat he could never get enough, therefore he was obliged to eat stones. And then he asked if he might go with him in the ship.

“If you want to go with us, you must make haste and get on board,” said Ashiepattle.

Yes, that he would, but he must take with him some large stones for food.

When they had sailed some distance they met one who was lying on the side of a sunny hill, sucking at a bung.

“Who are you,” said Ashiepattle, “and what is the good of lying there sucking that bung?”

“Oh, when one hasn’t got the barrel, one must be satisfied with the bung,” said the man. “I’m always so thirsty, I can never get enough beer and wine.” And then he asked for leave to go with him in the ship.

“If you want to go with me you must make haste and get on board,” said Ashiepattle.

Yes, that he would. And so he went on board and took the bung with him to allay his thirst.

When they had sailed a while again they met one who was lying with his ear to the ground, listening.

“Who are you, and what is the good of lying there on the ground listening?” said Ashiepattle.

“I’m listening to the grass, for I have such good ears that I can hear the grass growing,” said the man. And then he asked leave to go with him in the ship. Ashiepattle could not say nay to that, so he said:

“If you want to go with me, you must make haste and get on board.”

Yes, the man would. And he also went on board.

When they had sailed some distance they came to one who was standing taking aim with a gun.

“Who are you, and what is the good of standing there aiming like that?” asked Ashiepattle.

So the man said: “I have such good eyes that I can hit anything, right to the end of the world.” And then he asked for leave to go with him in the ship.

“If you want to go with me, you must make haste and get on board,” said Ashiepattle.

Yes, that he would. And he went on board.

When they had sailed some distance again they came to one who was hopping and limping about on one leg, and on the other he had seven ton weights.

“Who are you, said Ashiepattle, “and what is the good of hopping and limping about on one leg with seven ton weights on the other?”

“I am so light,” said the man, “that if I walked on both my legs I should get to the end of the world in less than five minutes.” And then he asked for leave to go with him in the ship.

“If you want to go with us, you must make haste and get on board,” said Ashiepattle.

Yes, that he would. And so he joined Ashiepattle and his crew on the ship.

When they had sailed on some distance they met one who was standing holding his hand to his mouth.

“Who are you?” said Ashiepattle, “and what is the good of standing there, holding your mouth like that?”

“Oh, I have seven summers and fifteen winters in my body,” said the man; “so I think I ought to keep my mouth shut, for if they get out all at the same time they would finish off the world altogether.” And then he asked for leave to go with him in the ship.

“If you want to go with us you must make haste and get on board,” said Ashiepattle.

Yes, that he would, and then he joined the others on the ship.

When they had sailed a long time they came to the king’s palace.

Ashiepattle went straight in to the king and said the ship stood ready in the courtyard outside; and now he wanted the princess, as the king had promised.

The king did not like this very much, for Ashiepattle did not cut a very fine figure; he was black and sooty, and the king did not care to give his daughter to such a tramp, so he told Ashiepattle that he would have to wait a little.

“But you can have her all the same, if by this time to-morrow you can empty my storehouse of three hundred barrels of meat,” said the king.

“I suppose I must try,” said Ashiepattle; “but perhaps you don’t mind my taking one of my crew with me?”

“Yes, you can do that, and take all six if you like,” said the king, for he was quite sure that even if Ashiepattle took six hundred with him, it would be impossible. So Ashiepattle took with him the one who ate stones and always hungered after meat.

When they came next morning and opened the storehouse they found he had eaten all the meat, except six small legs of mutton, one for each of his companions. Ashiepattle then went to the king and said the storehouse was empty, and he supposed he could now have the princess.

The king went into the storehouse and, sure enough, it was quite empty; but Ashiepattle was still black and sooty, and the king thought it was really too bad that such a tramp should have his daughter. So he said he had a cellar full of beer and old wine, three hundred barrels of each kind, which he would have him drink first.

“I don’t mind your having my daughter if you can drink them up by this time to-morrow,” said the king.

“I suppose I must try,” said Ashiepattle, “but perhaps you don’t mind my taking one of my crew with me?”

“Yes, you may do that,” said the king, for he was quite sure there was too much beer and wine even for all seven of them. Ashiepattle took with him the one who was always sucking the bung and was always thirsty; and the king then shut them down in the cellar.

There the thirsty one drank barrel after barrel, as long as there was any left, but in the last barrel he left a couple of pints to each of his companions.

In the morning the cellar was opened and Ashiepattle went at once to the king and said he had finished the beer and wine, and now he supposed he could have the princess as the king had promised.

“Well, I must first go down to the cellar and see,” said the king, for he could not believe it; but when he got there he found nothing but empty barrels.

But Ashiepattle was both black and sooty and the king thought it wouldn’t do for him to have such a son in law. So he said that if Ashiepattle could get water from the end of the world in ten minutes for the princess’s tea, he could have both her and half the kingdom; for he thought that task would be quite impossible.

“I suppose I must try,” said Ashiepattle, and sent for the one of his crew who jumped about on one leg and had seven ton weights on the other, and told him he must take off the weights and use his legs as quickly as he could, for he must have water from the end of the world for the princess’s tea in ten minutes.

So he took off the weights, got a bucket, and set off, and the next moment he was out of sight. But they waited and waited and still he did not return. At last it wanted but three minutes to the time and the king became as pleased as if he had won a big wager.

Then Ashiepattle called the one who could hear the grass grow and told him to listen and find out what had become of their companion.

“He has fallen asleep at the well”,” said he who could hear the grass grow; “I can hear him snoring, and a troll is scratching his head.” Ashiepattle then called the one who could shoot to the end of the world and told him to send a bullet into the troll; he did so and hit the troll right in the eye. The troll gave such a yell that he woke the man who had come to fetch the water for the tea, and when he returned to the palace there was still one minute left out of the ten.

Ashiepattle went straight to the king and said: “Here is the water;” and now he supposed he could have the princess, for surely the king would not make any more fuss about it now. But the king thought that Ashiepattle was just as black and sooty as ever, and did not like to have him for a son-in-law; so he said he had three hundred fathoms of wood with which he was going to dry corn in the bakehouse, and he wouldn’t mind Ashiepattle having his daughter if he would first sit in the bakehouse and burn all the wood; he should then have the princess, and that without fail.

“I suppose I must try,” said Ashiepattle; “but perhaps you don’t mind my taking one of my crew with me?”

“Oh, no, you can take all six,” said the king, for he thought it would be warm enough for all of them.

Ashiepattle took with him the one who had fifteen winters and seven summers in his body, and in the evening he went across to the bakehouse: but the king had piled up so much wood on the fire that you might almost have melted iron in the room. They could not get out of it, for no sooner were they inside than the king fastened the bolt and put a couple of padlocks on the door besides. Ashiepattle then said to his companion:

“You had better let out six or seven winters, so that we may get something like summer weather here.”

They were then just able to exist, but during the night it got cold again and Ashiepattle then told the man to let out a couple of summers, and so they slept far into the next day. But when they heard the king outside Ashiepattle said:

“You must let out a couple more winters, but you must manage it so that the last winter you let out strikes the king right in the face.”

He did so, and when the king opened the door, expecting to find Ashiepattle and his companion burned to cinders, he saw them huddling together and shivering with cold till their teeth chattered. The same instant Ashiepattle’s companion with the fifteen winters in his body let loose the last one right in the king’s face, which swelled up into a big chilblain.

“Can I have the princess now?” asked Ashiepattle

“Yes, take her and keep her and the kingdom into the bargain,” said the king, who dared not refuse any longer. And so the wedding took place and they feasted and made merry and fired off guns and powder.

While the people were running about searching for wadding for their guns, they took me instead, gave me some porridge in a bottle and some milk in a basket, and fired me right across here, so that I could tell you how it all happened.

THE SQUIRE’S BRIDE

By P. C. Asbjörnsen

Once upon a time there was a rich squire who owned a large farm, and had plenty of silver at the bottom of his chest and money in the bank besides; but he felt there was something wanting, for he was a widower.

One day the daughter of a neighboring farmer was working for him in the hayfield. The squire saw her and liked her very much, and as she was the child of poor parents he thought if he only hinted that he wanted her she would be ready to marry him at once.

So he told her he had been thinking of getting married again.

“Aye! one may think of many things,” said the girl, laughing slyly.

In her opinion the old fellow ought to be thinking of something that behooved him better than getting married.

“Well, you see, I thought that you should be my wife!”

“No, thank you all the same,” said she, “that’s not at all likely.”

The squire was not accustomed to be gainsaid, and the more she refused him the more determined he was to get her.

But as he made no progress in her favor he sent for her father and told him that if he could arrange the matter with his daughter he would forgive him the money he had lent him, and he would also give him the piece of land which lay close to his meadow into the bargain.

“Yes, you may be sure I’ll bring my daughter to her senses,” said the father. “She is only a child, and she doesn’t know what’s best for her.” But all his coaxing and talking did not help matters. She would not have the squire, she said, if he sat buried in gold up to his ears.

The squire waited day after day, but at last he became so angry and impatient that he told the father, if he expected him to stand by his promise, he would have to put his foot down and settle the matter now, for he would not wait any longer.

The man knew no other way out of it but to let the squire get everything ready for the wedding; and when the parson and the wedding guests had arrived the squire should send for the girl as if she were wanted for some work on the farm. When she arrived she would have to be married right away, so that she would have no time to think it over.

The squire thought this was well and good, and so he began brewing and baking and getting ready for the wedding in grand style. When the guests had arrived the squire called one of his farm lads and told him to run down to his neighbor and ask him to send him what he had promised.

“But if you are not back in a twinkling,” he said, shaking his fist at him, “I’ll—”

He did not say more, for the lad ran off as if he had been shot at.

“My master has sent me to ask for that you promised him,” said the lad, when he got to the neighbor, “but there is no time to be lost, for he is terribly busy to-day.”

“Yes, yes! Run down into the meadow and take her with you. There she goes!” answered the neighbor.

The lad ran off and when he came to the meadow he found the daughter there raking the hay.

“I am to fetch what your father has promised my master,” said the lad.

“Ah, ha!” thought she. “Is that what they are up to?”

“Ah, indeed!” she said. “I suppose it’s that little bay mare of ours. You had better go and take her. She stands there tethered on the other side of the pea field,” said the girl.

The boy jumped on the back of the bay mare and rode home at full gallop.

“Have you got her with you?” asked the squire.

“She is down at the door,” said the lad.

“Take her up to the room my mother had,” said the squire.

“But master, how can that be managed?” said the lad.

“You must just do as I tell you,” said the squire. “If you cannot manage her alone you must get the men to help you,” for he thought the girl might turn obstreperous.

When the lad saw his master’s face he knew it would be no use to gainsay him. So he went and got all the farm tenants who were there to help him. Some pulled at the head and the forelegs of the mare and others pushed from behind, and at last they got her up the stairs and into the room. There lay all the wedding finery ready.

“Now, that’s done master!” said the lad; “but it was a terrible job. It was the worst I have ever had here on the farm.

“Never mind, you shall not have done it for nothing,” said his master. “Now send the women up to dress her.”

“But I say master—!” said the lad.

“None of your talk!” said the squire. “Tell them they must dress her and mind and not forget either wreath or crown.

The lad ran into the kitchen.

“Look here, lasses,” he said; “you must go upstairs and dress up the bay mare as bride. I expect the master wants to give the guests a laugh.”

The women dressed the bay mare in everything that was there, and then the lad went and told his master that now she was ready dressed, with wreath and crown and all.

“Very well, bring her down!” said the squire. “I will receive her myself at the door,” said he.

There was a terrible clatter on the stairs; for that bride, you know, had no silken shoes on.

When the door was opened and the squire’s bride entered the parlor you can imagine there was a good deal of tittering and grinning.

And as for the squire you may he sure line had had enough of that bride, and they say he never went courting again.

THE DOLL IN THE GRASS

By P. C. Asbjörnsen

Once upon a time there was a king who had twelve sons. When they were grown up he told them they must go out into the world and find themselves wives, who must all be able to spin and weave and make a shirt in one day, else he would not have them for daughters-in-law. He gave each of his sons a horse and a new suit of armor, and so they set out in the world to look for wives.

When they had traveled a bit on the way they said they would not take Ashiepattle with them, for he was good for nothing. Ashiepattle must stop behind; there was no help for it. He did not know what he should do or which way he should turn; he became so sad that he got off the horse and sat down on the grass and began to cry.

When he had sat a while one of the tussocks among the grass began to move, and out of it came a small white figure; as it came nearer Ashiepattle saw that it was a beautiful little girl, but she was so tiny, so very, very tiny.

She went up to him and asked him if he would come below and pay a visit to the doll in the grass.

Yes, that he would; and so he did. When he came down below, the doll in the grass was sitting in a chair dressed very finely and looking still more beautiful. She asked Ashiepattle where he was going and what was his errand.

He told her they were twelve brothers, and that the king had given them each a horse and a suit of armor, and told them to go out in the world and find themselves wives, but they must all be able to spin and weave and make a shirt in a day.

“If you can do that and will become my wife, I will not travel any farther,” said Ashiepattle to the doll in the grass.

Yes, that she would, and she set to work at once to get the shirt spun, woven, and made; but it was so tiny, so very, very tiny, no bigger than—so!

Ashiepattle then returned home, taking the shirt with him; but when he brought it out he felt very shy because it was so small. But the king said he could have her for all that, and you can imagine how happy and joyful Ashiepattle became.

The road did not seem long to him as he set out to fetch his little sweetheart. When he came to the doll in the grass he wanted her to sit with him on his horse; but no, that she wouldn’t; she said she would sit and drive in a silver spoon, and she had two small while horses which would draw her. So they set out, he on his horse and she in the silver spoon; and the horses which drew her were two small white mice.

Ashiepattle always kept to one side of the road, for he was so afraid he should ride over her; she was so very, very tiny.

When they had traveled a bit on the way they came to a large lake; there Ashiepattle’s horse took fright and shied over to the other side of the road, and upset the spoon, so that the doll in the grass fell into the water. Ashiepattle became very sad, for he did not know how he should get her out again; but after a while a merman brought her up.

But now she had become just as big as any other grown-up being and was much more beautiful than she was before. So he placed her in front of him on the horse and rode home.

When Ashiepattle got there all his brothers had also returned, each with a sweetheart; but they were so ugly and ill-favored and bad-tempered that they had come to blows with their sweethearts on their way home. On their heads they had hats which were painted with tar and soot, and this had run from their hats down their faces, so that they were still uglier and more ill-favored to behold.

When the brothers saw Ashiepattle’s sweetheart they all became envious of him, but the king was so pleased with Ashiepattle and his sweetheart that he drove all the others away, and so Ashiepattle was married to the doll in the grass; and afterward they lived happy and comfortable for a long, long while; and if they are not dead, they must be still alive.

THE BEAR AND THE FOX

By P. C. Asbjörnsen

Once upon a time there was a bear, who sat on a sunny hillside taking a nap. Just then a fox came slinking by and saw him.

“Aha! have I caught you napping, grandfather? See if I don’t play you a trick this time!” said Reynard to himself.

He then found three wood mice and laid them on a stump of a tree just under the bear’s nose.

“Boo! Bruin! Peter the hunter is just behind that stump!” shouted the fox right into the bear’s ear, and then took to his heels and made off into the wood.

The bear woke at once, and when he saw the three mice he became so angry that he lifted his paw and was just going to strike them, for he thought it was they who had shouted in his ear.

But just then he saw Reynard’s tail between the bushes and he set off at such a speed that the branches crackled under him, and Bruin was soon so close upon Reynard that he caught him by the right hind leg just as be was running into a hole under a pine tree.

Reynard was now in a fix; but he was not to be outwitted, and he cried:

“Slip pine root, grip fox foot,” and so the bear let go his hold; but the fox laughed far down in the hole and said:

“I sold you that time, also, grandfather!”

“Out of sight is not out of mind!” said the bear, who was in a fine fury.

The other morning, when Bruin came trudging across the moor with a fat pig, Master Reynard was lying on a stone by the moorside.

“Good-day, grandfather!” said the fox. “What nice thing have you got there?”

“Pork,” said the bear.

“I have got something tasty as well,” said the fox.

“What’s that?” said the bear.

“It’s the biggest bees’ nest I ever found,” said Reynard.

“Ah, indeed,” said the bear, grinning, and his mouth began to water, he thought a little honey would be so nice. “Shall we change victuals?” he said.

“No, I won’t do that,” said Reynard. But they made a wager about naming three kinds of trees. If the fox could say them quicker than the bear he was to have one bite at the pig; but if the bear could say them quicker he was to have one suck at the bee’s nest. The bear thought he would be able to suck all the honey up at one gulp.

“Well said the fox, “that’s all well and good but if I win you must promise to tear off the bristles where I want to have a bite,” he said.

“Well, I suppose I must, since you are too lazy yourself,” said the bear.

Then they began to name the trees.

“Spruce, fir, pine,” growled the bear. His voice was very gruff. But all these were only different names of one kind of tree.

“Ash, aspen, oak,” screeched the fox, so that the forest resounded. He had thus won the bet, and so he jumped down, took the heart out of the pig at one bite, and tried to run off. But the bear was angry, because he had taken the best bit of the whole pig, and seized hold of him by his tail and held him fast.