Thunder and lightning, cried the tailor, what is that, and as he was strongly goaded by curiosity, he went boldly towards it. But how he did gaze and gape when he came near it, for the tower had legs, and leapt in one bound over the steep hill, and was now standing as an all-powerful giant before him. What do you want here, you tiny fly's leg, cried the giant, with a voice as if it were thundering on every side. The tailor whimpered, I want just to look about and see if I can earn a bit of bread for myself, in this forest. If that is what you are after, said the giant, you may have a place with me. If it must be, why not. What wages shall I receive. You shall hear what wages you shall have. Every year three hundred and sixty-five days, and when it is leap-year, one more into the bargain. Does that suit you. All right, replied the tailor, and thought, in his own mind, a man must cut his coat according to his cloth. I will try to get away as fast as I can.
At this the giant said to him, go, little ragamuffin, and fetch me a jug of water. Had I not better bring the well itself at once, and the spring too, asked the boaster, and went with the pitcher to the water. What, the well and the spring too, growled the giant in his beard, for he was somewhat of a silly dolt, and began to be afraid. That knave is not a fool, he has a mandrake in his body. Be on your guard, old Hans, this is no serving-man for you. When the tailor had brought the water, the giant bade him go into the forest, and cut a couple of blocks of wood and bring them back. Why not the whole forest, at once, with one stroke. The whole forest, young and old, with all that is there, both gnarled and smooth, and the well and its spring too, growled the credulous giant in his beard, and was still more terrified. The knave can do much more than bake apples, and has a mandrake in his body. Be on your guard, old Hans, this is no serving-man for you. When the tailor had brought the wood, the giant commanded him to shoot two or three wild boars for supper. Why not rather a thousand at one shot, and bring them all here, inquired the insolent tailor. What, cried the timid giant in great terror.
Let well alone to-night, and lie down to rest.
The giant was so terribly alarmed that he could not close an eye all night long for thinking what would be the best way to get rid of this accursed sorcerer of a servant. Time brings counsel. Next morning the giant and the tailor went to a marsh, round which stood a number of willow-trees. Then said the giant, listen, tailor, seat yourself on one of the willow-branches. I long of all things to see if you are big enough to bend it down. All at once the tailor was sitting on it, holding his breath, and making himself heavy, so heavy that the bough bent down. When, however, he was compelled to draw breath, it hurled him - for unfortunately he had not put his goose in his pocket - so high into the air that he never was seen again, and this to the great delight of the giant. If the tailor has not fallen down again, he must still be hovering about in the air.
A merchant had done good business at the fair. He had sold his wares, and lined his money-bags with gold and silver. Then he wanted to travel homewards, and be in his own house before nightfall. So he packed his trunk with the money on his horse, and rode away.
At noon he rested in a town, and when he wanted to go farther the stable-boy brought out his horse and said, a nail is wanting, sir, in the shoe of its near hind foot. Let it be wanting, answered the merchant. The shoe will certainly stay on for the six miles I have still to go. I am in a hurry.
In the afternoon, when he once more alighted and had his horse fed, the stable-boy went into the room to him and said, sir, a shoe is missing from your horse's near hind foot. Shall I take him to the blacksmith. Let it be wanting, answered the man.
The horse can very well hold out for the couple of miles which remain. I am in haste.
He rode forth, but before long the horse began to limp. It had not limped long before it began to stumble, and it had not stumbled long before it fell down and broke its leg. The merchant was forced to leave the horse where it was, and unbuckle the trunk, take it on his back, and go home on foot. And there he did not arrive until quite late at night. And that cursed nail, said he to himself, has caused all this disaster.
The more haste the less speed.
This story, my dear young folks, seems to be false, but it really is true, for my grandfather, from whom I have it, used always, when relating it, to say, it must be true, my son, or else no one could tell it to you. The story is as follows. One sunday morning about harvest time, just as the buckwheat was in bloom, the sun was shining brightly in heaven, the east wind was blowing warmly over the stubble-fields, the larks were singing in the air, the bees buzzing among the buckwheat, the people in their sunday clothes were all going to church, and all creatures were happy, and the hedgehog was happy too.
The hedgehog, however, was standing by his door with his arms akimbo, enjoying the morning breezes, and slowly trilling a little song to himself, which was neither better nor worse than the songs which hedgehogs are in the habit of singing on a blessed sunday morning. Whilst he was thus singing half aloud to himself, it suddenly occurred to him that, while his wife was washing and drying the children, he might very well take a walk into the field, and see how his turnips were getting on. The turnips, in fact, were close beside his house, and he and his family were accustomed to eat them, for which reason he looked upon them as his own.
