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Grimm's Fairy Stories by Jacob Grimm and Wilhelm Grimm

Part 1 out of 3

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Colored Illustrations by JOHN B. GRUELLE

Pen and Ink Sketches by R. EMMETT OWEN




























[Illustration: Grimm's Fairy Stories]


An old queen, whose husband had been dead some years, had a beautiful
daughter. When she grew up, she was betrothed to a prince who lived a
great way off; and as the time drew near for her to be married, she got
ready to set off on her journey to his country. Then the queen, her
mother, packed up a great many costly things--jewels, and gold, and
silver, trinkets, fine dresses, and in short, everything that became a
royal bride; for she loved her child very dearly; and she gave her a
waiting-maid to ride with her, and give her into the bridegroom's hands;
and each had a horse for the journey. Now the princess' horse was called
Falada, and could speak.

When the time came for them to set out, the old queen went into her
bed-chamber, and took a little knife, and cut off a lock of her hair,
and gave it to her daughter, saying, "Take care of it, dear child; for
it is a charm that may be of use to you on the road." Then they took a
sorrowful leave of each other, and the princess put the lock of her
mother's hair into her bosom, got upon her horse, and set off on her
journey to her bridegroom's kingdom.

One day, as they were riding along by the side of a brook, the princess
began to feel very thirsty, and said to her maid, "Pray get down and
fetch me some water in my golden cup out of yonder brook, for I want to
drink." "Nay," said the maid, "if you are thirsty, get down yourself,
and lie down by the water and drink; I shall not be your waiting-maid
any longer." The princess was so thirsty that she got down, and knelt
over the little brook and drank, for she was frightened, and dared not
bring out her golden cup; and then she wept, and said, "Alas! what will
become of me?" And the lock of hair answered her, and said--

"Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
Sadly, sadly her heart would rue it."

But the princess was very humble and meek, so she said nothing to her
maid's ill behavior, but got upon her horse again.

Then all rode further on their journey, till the day grew so warm, and
the sun so scorching, that the bride began to feel very thirsty again;
and at last, when they came to a river, she forgot her maid's rude
speech, and said, "Pray get down and fetch me some water to drink in my
golden cup." But the maid answered her, and even spoke more haughtily
than before, "Drink if you will, but I shall not be your waiting-maid."
Then the princess was so thirsty that she got off her horse and lay
down, and held her head over the running stream, and cried, and said,
"What will become of me?" And the lock of hair answered her again--

"Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
Sadly, sadly her heart would rue it."

And as she leaned down to drink, the lock of hair fell from her bosom
and floated away with the water, without her seeing it, she was so much
frightened. But her maid saw it, and was very glad, for she knew the
charm, and saw that the poor bride would be in her power now that she
had lost the hair. So when the bride had finished drinking, and would
have got upon Falada again, the maid said, "I shall ride upon Falada,
and you may have my horse instead;" so she was forced to give up her
horse, and soon afterwards to take off her royal clothes, and put on her
maid's shabby ones.

At last, as they drew near the end of the journey, this treacherous
servant threatened to kill her mistress if she ever told anyone what had
happened. But Falada saw it all, and marked it well. Then the
waiting-maid got upon Falada, and the real bride was set upon the other
horse, and they went on in this way till at last they came to the royal
court. There was great joy at their coming, and the prince hurried to
meet them, and lifted the maid from her horse, thinking she was the one
who was to be his wife; and she was led upstairs to the royal chamber,
but the true princess was told to stay in the court below.

However, the old king happened to be looking out of the window, and saw
her in the yard below; and as she looked very pretty, and too delicate
for a waiting-maid, he went into the royal chamber to ask the bride whom
it was she had brought with her, that was thus left standing in the
court below. "I brought her with me for the sake of her company on the
road," said she. "Pray give the girl some work to do, that she may not
be idle." The old king could not for some time think of any work for
her, but at last he said, "I have a lad who takes care of my geese; she
may go and help him." Now the name of this lad, that the real bride was
to help in watching the king's geese, was Curdken.

Soon after, the false bride said to the prince, "Dear husband, pray do
me one piece of kindness." "That I will," said the prince. "Then tell
one of your slaughterers to cut off the head of the horse I rode upon,
for it was very unruly, and plagued me sadly on the road." But the truth
was, she was very much afraid lest Falada should speak, and tell all she
had done to the princess. She carried her point, and the faithful Falada
was killed; but when the true princess heard of it she wept, and begged
the man to nail up Falada's head against a large dark gate in the city
through which she had to pass every morning and evening, that there she
might still see him sometimes. Then the slaughterer said he would do as
she wished, so he cut off the head and nailed it fast under the dark

Early the next morning, as the princess and Curdken went out through the
gate, she said sorrowfully--

"Falada, Falada, there thou art hanging!"

and the head answered--

"Bride, bride, there thou are ganging!
Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
Sadly, sadly her heart would rue it."

Then they went out of the city, driving the geese. And when they came to
the meadow, the princess sat down upon a bank there and let down her
waving locks of hair, which were all of pure gold; and when Curdken saw
it glitter in the sun, he ran up, and would have pulled some of the
locks out; but she cried--

"Blow, breezes, blow!
Let Curdken's hat go!
Blow breezes, blow!
Let him after it go!

"O'er hills, dales, and rocks,
Away be it whirl'd,
Till the golden locks
Are all comb'd and curl'd!"

Then there came a wind, so strong that it blew off Curdken's hat, and
away it flew over the hills, and he after it; till, by the time he came
back, she had done combing and curling her hair, and put it up again
safely. Then he was very angry and sulky, and would not speak to her at
all; but they watched the geese until it grew dark in the evening, and
then drove them homewards.

The next morning, as they were going through the dark gate, the poor
girl looked up at Falada's head, and cried--

"Falada, Falada, there thou art hanging!"

and it answered--

"Bride, bride, there thou are ganging!
Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
Sadly, sadly her heart would rue it."

Then she drove on the geese and sat down again in the meadow, and began
to comb out her hair as before, and Curdken ran up to her, and wanted to
take of it; but she cried out quickly--

"Blow, breezes, blow!
Let Curdken's hat go!
Blow breezes, blow!
Let him after it go!
O'er hills, dales, and rocks,
Away be it whirl'd,
Till the golden locks
Are all comb'd and curl'd!"

Then the wind came and blew off his hat, and off it flew a great
distance over the hills and far away, so that he had to run after it:
and when he came back, she had done up her hair again, and all was safe.
So they watched the geese till it grew dark.

In the evening, after they came home, Curdken went to the old king, and
said, "I cannot have that strange girl to help me to keep the geese any

"Why?" inquired the king.

"Because she does nothing but tease me all day long."

Then the king made him tell him all that had passed.

And Curdken said, "When we go in the morning through the dark gate with
our flock of geese, she weeps, and talks with the head of a horse that
hangs upon the wall, and says--

"Falada, Falada, there thou art hanging!"

and the head answers--

"Bride, bride, there thou are ganging!
Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
Sadly, sadly her heart would rue it."

And Curdken went on telling the king what had happened upon the meadow
where the geese fed; and how his hat was blown away, and he was forced
to run after it, and leave his flock. But the old king told him to go
out again as usual the next day: and when morning came, he placed
himself behind the dark gate, and heard how the princess spoke, and how
Falada answered; and then he went into the field and hid himself in a
bush by the meadow's side, and soon saw with his own eyes how they drove
the flock of geese, and how, after a little time, she let down her hair
that glittered in the sun; and then he heard her say--

"Blow, breezes, blow!
Let Curdken's hat go!
Blow breezes, blow!
Let him after it go!
O'er hills, dales, and rocks,
Away be it whirl'd,
Till the golden locks
Are all comb'd and curl'd!"

And soon came a gale of wind, and carried away Curdken's hat, while the
girl went on combing and curling her hair.

All this the old king saw; so he went home without being seen; and when
the goose-girl came back in the evening, he called her aside, and asked
her why she did so; but she burst into tears, and said, "That I must not
tell you or any man, or I shall lose my life."

But the old king begged so hard that she had no peace till she had told
him all, word for word: and it was very lucky for her that she did so,
for the king ordered royal clothes to be put upon her, and he gazed with
wonder, she was so beautiful.

Then he called his son, and told him that he had only the false bride,
for that she was merely a waiting-maid, while the true one stood by.

And the young king rejoiced when he saw her beauty, and heard how meek
and patient she had been; and without saying anything, he ordered a
great feast to be prepared for all his court.

The bridegroom sat at the top, with the false princess on one side, and
the true one on the other; but nobody knew her, for she was quite
dazzling to their eyes, and was not at all like the little goose-girl,
now that she had on her brilliant dress.

When they had eaten and drunk, and were very merry, the old king told
all the story, as one that he had once heard of, and asked the true
waiting-maid what she thought ought to be done to anyone who would
behave thus.

"Nothing better," said this false bride, "than that she should be thrown
into a cask stuck around with sharp nails, and that two white horses
should be put to it, and should drag it from street to street till she
is dead."

"Thou art she!" said the old king; "and since thou hast judged thyself,
it shall be so done to thee."

Then the young king was married to his true wife, and they reigned over
the kingdom in peace and happiness all their lives.


There was once a little brother who took his Sister by the hand, and
said, "Since our own dear mother's death we have not had one happy hour;
our stepmother beats us every day, and, when we come near her, kicks us
away with her foot. Come, let us wander forth into the wide world." So
all day long they travelled over meadows, fields, and stony roads. By
the evening they came into a large forest, and laid themselves down in a
hollow tree, and went to sleep. When they awoke the next morning, the
sun had already risen high in the heavens, and its beams made the tree
so hot that the little boy said to his sister, "I am so very thirsty,
that if I knew where there was a brook, I would go and drink. Ah! I
think I hear one running;" and so saying, he got up, and taking his
Sister's hand they went to look for the brook.

The wicked stepmother, however, was a witch, and had witnessed the
departure of the two children: so, sneaking after them secretly, as is
the habit of witches, she had enchanted all the springs in the forest.

Presently they found a brook, which ran trippingly over the pebbles, and
the Brother would have drunk out of it, but the Sister heard how it said
as it ran along, "Who drinks of me will become a tiger!" So the Sister
exclaimed, "I pray you, Brother, drink not, or you will become a tiger,
and tear me to pieces!" So the Brother did not drink, although his
thirst was very great, and he said, "I will wait till the next brook."
As they came to the second, the Sister heard it say, "Who drinks of me
becomes a wolf!" The Sister ran up crying, "Brother, do not, pray do not
drink, or you will become a wolf and eat me up!" Then the Brother did
not drink, saying, "I will wait until we come to the next spring, but
then I must drink, you may say what you will; my thirst is much too
great." Just as they reached the third brook, the Sister heard the voice
saying, "Who drinks of me will become a fawn--who drinks of me will
become a fawn!" So the Sister said, "Oh, my Brother do not drink, or you
will be changed into a fawn, and run away from me!" But he had already
kneeled down, and he drank of the water, and, as the first drops passed
his lips, his shape took that of a fawn.

At first the Sister wept over her little, changed Brother, and he wept
too, and knelt by her, very sorrowful; but at last the maiden said, "Be
still, dear little fawn, and I will never forsake you!" and, taking off
her golden garter, she placed it around his neck, and, weaving rushes,
made a girdle to lead him with. This she tied to him, and taking the
other end in her hand, she led him away, and they travelled deeper and
deeper into the forest. After they had gone a long distance they came to
a little hut, and the maiden, peeping in, found it empty, and thought,
"Here we can stay and dwell." Then she looked for leaves and moss to
make a soft couch for the Fawn, and every morning she went out and
collected roots and berries and nuts for herself, and tender grass for
the Fawn. In the evening when the Sister was tired, and had said her
prayers, she laid her head upon the back of the Fawn, which served for a
pillow, on which she slept soundly. Had but the Brother regained his own
proper form, their lives would have been happy indeed.

Thus they dwelt in this wilderness, and some time had elapsed when it
happened that the King of the country had a great hunt in the forest;
and now sounded through the trees the blowing of horns, the barking of
dogs, and the lusty cry of the hunters, so that the little Fawn heard
them, and wanted very much to join in. "Ah!" said he to his Sister, "let
me go to the hunt, I cannot restrain myself any longer;" and he begged
so hard that at last she consented. "But," she told him, "return again
in the evening, for I shall shut my door against the wild huntsmen, and,
that I may know you, do you knock, and say, 'Sister, dear, let me in,'
and if you do not speak I shall not open the door."

As soon as she had said this, the little Fawn sprang off quite glad and
merry in the fresh breeze. The King and his huntsmen perceived the
beautiful animal, and pursued him; but they could not catch him, and
when they thought they certainly had him, he sprang away over the
bushes, and got out of sight. Just as it was getting dark, he ran up to
the hut, and, knocking, said, "Sister mine, let me in." Then she
unfastened the little door, and he went in, and rested all night long
upon his soft couch. The next morning the hunt was commenced again, and
as soon as the little Fawn heard the horns and the tally-ho of the
sportsmen he could not rest, and said, "Sister, dear, open the door; I
must be off." The Sister opened it, saying, "Return at evening, mind,
and say the words as before." When the King and his huntsmen saw him
again, the Fawn with the golden necklace, they followed him, close, but
he was too nimble and quick for them. The whole day long they kept up
with him, but towards evening the huntsmen made a circle around him, and
one wounded him slightly in the hinder foot, so that he could run but
slowly. Then one of them slipped after him to the little hut, and heard
him say, "Sister, dear, open the door," and saw that the door was opened
and immediately shut behind him. The huntsman, having observed all this,
went and told the King what he had seen and heard, and he said, "On the
morrow I will pursue him once again."

The Sister, however, was terribly afraid when she saw that her Fawn was
wounded, and, washing off the blood, she put herbs upon the foot, and
said, "Go and rest upon your bed, dear Fawn, that your wound may heal."
It was so slight, that the next morning he felt nothing of it, and when
he heard the hunting cries outside, he exclaimed, "I cannot stop away--I
must be there, and none shall catch me so easily again!" The Sister wept
very much and told him, "Soon will they kill you, and I shall be here
alone in this forest, forsaken by all the world: I cannot let you go."

"I shall die here in vexation," answered the Fawn, "if you do not, for
when I hear the horn, I think I shall jump out of my skin." The Sister,
finding she could not prevent him, opened the door, with a heavy heart,
and the Fawn jumped out, quite delighted, into the forest. As soon as
the King perceived him, he said to his huntsmen, "Follow him all day
long till the evening, but let no one do him any harm." Then when the
sun had set, the King asked his huntsman to show him the hut; and as
they came to it he knocked at the door and said, "Let me in, dear
Sister." Upon this the door opened, and, stepping in, the King saw a
maiden more beautiful than he had ever beheld before. She was frightened
when she saw not her Fawn, but a man enter, who had a golden crown upon
his head. But the King, looking at her with a kindly glance, held out to
her his hand, saying, "Will you go with me to my castle, and be my dear
wife?" "Oh, yes," replied the maiden; "but the Fawn must go too: him I
will never forsake." The King replied, "He shall remain with you as long
as you live, and shall never want."

The King took the beautiful maiden upon his horse, and rode to his
castle, where the wedding was celebrated with great splendor and she
became Queen, and they lived together a long time; while the Fawn was
taken care of and played about the castle garden.

The wicked stepmother, however, on whose account the children had
wandered forth into the world, had supposed that long ago the Sister had
been torn into pieces by the wild beasts, and the little Brother in his
Fawn's shape hunted to death by the hunters. As soon, therefore, as she
heard how happy they had become, and how everything prospered with them,
envy and jealousy were aroused in her wicked heart, and left her no
peace; and she was always thinking in what way she could bring
misfortune upon them.

Her own daughter, who was as ugly as night, and had but one eye, for
which she was continually reproached, said, "The luck of being a Queen
has never happened to me." "Be quiet, now," replied the old woman, "and
make yourself contented: when the time comes I will help and assist
you." As soon, then, as the time came when the Queen gave birth to a
beautiful little boy, which happened when the King was out hunting, the
old witch took the form of a chambermaid, and got into the room where
the Queen was lying, and said to her, "The bath is ready, which will
restore you and give you fresh strength; be quick before it gets cold."
Her daughter being at hand, they carried the weak Queen between them
into the room, and laid her in the bath, and then, shutting the door,
they ran off; but first they made up an immense fire in the stove, which
must soon suffocate the poor young Queen.

When this was done, the old woman took her daughter, and, putting a cap
upon her head, laid her in the bed in the Queen's place. She gave her,
too, the form and appearance of the real Queen, as far as she was able;
but she could not restore the lost eye, and, so that the King might not
notice it, she turned her upon that side where there was no eye.

When midnight came, and every one was asleep, the nurse, who sat by
herself, wide awake, near the cradle, in the nursery, saw the door open
and the true Queen come in. She took the child in her arms, and rocked
it a while, and then, shaking up its pillow, laid it down in its cradle,
and covered it over again. She did not forget the Fawn, either, but
going to the corner where he was, stroked his head, and then went
silently out of the door. The nurse asked in the morning of the guards
if any one had passed into the castle during the night; but they
answered, "No, we have not seen anybody." For many nights afterwards she
came constantly, but never spoke a word; and the nurse saw her always,
but she would not trust herself to speak about it to any one.

When some time had passed away, the Queen one night began to speak, and

"How fares my child! how fares my fawn?
Twice more will I come, but never again."

The nurse made no reply; but, when she had disappeared, went to the
King, and told him. The King exclaimed, "Oh, mercy! what does this
mean?--the next night I will watch myself by the child." So in the
evening he went into the nursery, and about midnight the Queen appeared,
and said--

"How fares my child! how fares my fawn?
Once more will I come, but never again."

And she nursed the child, as she usually did, and then disappeared. The
King dared not speak; but he watched the following night, and this time
she said--

"How fares my child! how fares my fawn?
This time have I come, but never again."

At these words the King could hold back no longer, but, springing up,
cried, "You can be no other than my dear wife!" Then she answered, "Yes,
I am your dear wife;" and at that moment her life was restored by God's
mercy, and she was again as beautiful and charming as ever. She told the
King the fraud which the witch and her daughter had practised upon him,
and he had them both tried, and sentence was pronounced against them.
The little Fawn was disenchanted, and received once more his human form;
and the Brother and Sister lived happily together to the end of their


Once upon a time there dwelt near a large wood a poor woodcutter, with
his wife and two children by his former marriage, a little boy called
Hansel, and a girl named Grethel. He had little enough to break or bite;
and once, when there was a great famine in the land, he could not
procure even his daily bread; and as he lay thinking in his bed one
evening, rolling about for trouble, he sighed, and said to his wife,
"What will become of us? How can we feed our children, when we have no
more than we can eat ourselves?"

"Know, then, my husband," answered she, "we will lead them away, quite
early in the morning, into the thickest part of the wood, and there make
them a fire, and give them each a little piece of bread; then we will go
to our work, and leave them alone, so they will not find the way home
again, and we shall be freed from them." "No, wife," replied he, "that I
can never do. How can you bring your heart to leave my children all
alone in the wood, for the wild beasts will soon come and tear them to

"Oh, you simpleton!" said she, "then we must all four die of hunger; you
had better plane the coffins for us." But she left him no peace till he
consented, saying, "Ah, but I shall regret the poor children."

The two children, however, had not gone to sleep for very hunger, and so
they overheard what the stepmother said to their father. Grethel wept
bitterly, and said to Hansel, "What will become of us?" "Be quiet,
Grethel," said he; "do not cry--I will soon help you." And as soon as
their parents had fallen asleep, he got up, put on his coat, and,
unbarring the back door, slipped out. The moon shone brilliantly, and
the white pebbles which lay before the door seemed like silver pieces,
they glittered so brightly. Hansel stooped down, and put as many into
his pocket as it would hold; and then going back, he said to Grethel,
"Be comforted, dear sister, and sleep in peace; God will not forsake
us." And so saying, he went to bed again.

The next morning, before the sun arose, the wife went and awoke the two
children. "Get up, you lazy things; we are going into the forest to chop
wood." Then she gave them each a piece of bread, saying, "There is
something for your dinner; do not eat it before the time, for you will
get nothing else." Grethel took the bread in her apron, for Hansel's
pocket was full of pebbles; and so they all set out upon their way. When
they had gone a little distance, Hansel stood still, and peeped back at
the house; and this he repeated several times, till his father said,
"Hansel, what are you peeping at, and why do you lag behind? Take care,
and remember your legs."

"Ah, father," said Hansel, "I am looking at my white cat sitting upon
the roof of the house, and trying to say good-bye." "You simpleton!"
said the wife, "that is not a cat; it is only the sun shining on the
white chimney." But in reality Hansel was not looking at a cat; but
every time he stopped, he dropped a pebble out of his pocket upon the

When they came to the middle of the forest, the father told the children
to collect wood, and he would make them a fire, so that they should not
be cold. So Hansel and Grethel gathered together quite a little mountain
of twigs. Then they set fire to them; and as the flame burnt up high,
the wife said, "Now, you children, lie down near the fire, and rest
yourselves, while we go into the forest and chop wood; when we are
ready, I will come and call you."

Hansel and Grethel sat down by the fire, and when it was noon, each ate
the piece of bread; and because they could hear the blows of an axe,
they thought their father was near: but it was not an axe, but a branch
which he had bound to a withered tree, so as to be blown to and fro by
the wind. They waited so long that at last their eyes closed from
weariness, and they fell fast asleep. When they awoke, it was quite
dark, and Grethel began to cry, "How shall we get out of the wood?" But
Hansel tried to comfort her by saying, "Wait a little while till the
moon rises, and then we will quickly find the way." The moon soon shone
forth, and Hansel, taking his sister's hand, followed the pebbles, which
glittered like new-coined silver pieces, and showed them the path. All
night long they walked on, and as day broke they came to their father's
house. They knocked at the door, and when the wife opened it, and saw
Hansel and Grethel, she exclaimed, "You wicked children! why did you
sleep so long in the wood? We thought you were never coming home again."
But their father was very glad, for it had grieved his heart to leave
them all alone.

Not long afterward there was again great scarcity in every corner of the
land; and one night the children overheard their stepmother saying to
their father, "Everything is again consumed; we have only half a loaf
left, and then the song is ended: the children must be sent away. We
will take them deeper into the wood, so that they may not find the way
out again; it is the only means of escape for us."

But her husband felt heavy at heart, and thought, "It were better to
share the last crust with the children." His wife, however, would listen
to nothing that he said, and scolded and reproached him without end.

He who says A must say B too; and he who consents the first time must
also the second.

The children, however, had heard the conversation as they lay awake, and
as soon as the old people went to sleep Hansel got up, intending to pick
up some pebbles as before; but the wife had locked the door, so that he
could not get out. Nevertheless, he comforted Grethel, saying, "Do not
cry; sleep in quiet; the good God will not forsake us."

Early in the morning the stepmother came and pulled them out of bed, and
gave them each a slice of bread, which was still smaller than the former
piece. On the way, Hansel broke his in his pocket, and, stooping every
now and then, dropped a crumb upon the path. "Hansel, why do you stop
and look about?" said the father; "keep in the path." "I am looking at
my little dove," answered Hansel, "nodding a good-bye to me."
"Simpleton!" said the wife, "that is no dove, but only the sun shining
on the chimney." But Hansel still kept dropping crumbs as he went along.

The mother led the children deep into the wood, where they had never
been before, and there making an immense fire, she said to them, "Sit
down here and rest, and when you feel tired you can sleep for a little
while. We are going into the forest to hew wood, and in the evening,
when we are ready, we will come and fetch you."

When noon came Grethel shared her bread with Hansel, who had strewn his
on the path. Then they went to sleep; but the evening arrived and no one
came to visit the poor children, and in the dark night they awoke, and
Hansel comforted his sister by saying, "Only wait, Grethel, till the
moon comes out, then we shall see the crumbs of bread which I have
dropped, and they will show us the way home." The moon shone and they
got up, but they could not see any crumbs, for the thousands of birds
which had been flying about in the woods and fields had picked them all
up. Hansel kept saying to Grethel, "We will soon find the way"; but they
did not, and they walked the whole night long and the next day, but
still they did not come out of the wood; and they got so hungry, for
they had nothing to eat but the berries which they found upon the
bushes. Soon they got so tired that they could not drag themselves
along, so they lay down under a tree and went to sleep.

It was now the third morning since they had left their father's house,
and they still walked on; but they only got deeper and deeper into the
wood, and Hansel saw that if help did not come very soon they would die
of hunger. At about noonday they saw a beautiful snow-white bird sitting
upon a bough, which sang so sweetly that they stood still and listened
to it. It soon ceased, and spreading its wings flew off; and they
followed it until it arrived at a cottage, upon the roof of which it
perched; and when they went close up to it they saw that the cottage was
made of bread and cakes, and the window-panes were of clear sugar.

"We will go in there," said Hansel, "and have a glorious feast. I will
eat a piece of the roof, and you can eat the window. Will they not be
sweet?" So Hansel reached up and broke a piece off the roof, in order to
see how it tasted, while Grethel stepped up to the window and began to
bite it. Then a sweet voice called out in the room, "Tip-tap, tip-tap,
who raps at my door?" and the children answered, "the wind, the wind,
the child of heaven"; and they went on eating without interruption.
Hansel thought the roof tasted very nice, so he tore off a great piece;
while Grethel broke a large round pane out of the window, and sat down
quite contentedly. Just then the door opened, and a very old woman,
walking upon crutches, came out. Hansel and Grethel were so frightened
that they let fall what they had in their hands; but the old woman,
nodding her head, said, "Ah, you dear children, what has brought you
here? Come in and stop with me, and no harm shall befall you"; and so
saying she took them both by the hand, and led them into her cottage. A
good meal of milk and pancakes, with sugar, apples, and nuts, was spread
on the table, and in the back room were two nice little beds, covered
with white, where Hansel and Grethel laid themselves down, and thought
themselves in heaven. The old woman behaved very kindly to them, but in
reality she was a wicked witch who waylaid children, and built the
bread-house in order to entice them in, but as soon as they were in her
power she killed them, cooked and ate them, and made a great festival of
the day. Witches have red eyes, and cannot see very far; but they have a
fine sense of smelling, like wild beasts, so that they know when
children approach them. When Hansel and Grethel came near the witch's
house she laughed wickedly, saying, "Here come two who shall not escape
me." And early in the morning, before they awoke, she went up to them,
and saw how lovingly they lay sleeping, with their chubby red cheeks,
and she mumbled to herself, "That will be a good bite." Then she took up
Hansel with her rough hands, and shut him up in a little cage with a
lattice-door; and although he screamed loudly it was of no use. Grethel
came next, and, shaking her till she awoke, the witch said, "Get up, you
lazy thing, and fetch some water to cook something good for your
brother, who must remain in that stall and get fat; when he is fat
enough I shall eat him." Grethel began to cry, but it was all useless,
for the old witch made her do as she wished. So a nice meal was cooked
for Hansel, but Grethel got nothing but a crab's claw.

Every morning the old witch came to the cage and said, "Hansel, stretch
out your finger that I may feel whether you are getting fat." But Hansel
used to stretch out a bone, and the old woman, having very bad sight,
thought it was his finger, and wondered very much that he did not get
fatter. When four weeks had passed, and Hansel still kept quite lean,
she lost all her patience, and would not wait any longer. "Grethel," she
called out in a passion, "get some water quickly; be Hansel fat or lean,
this morning I will kill and cook him." Oh, how the poor little sister
grieved, as she was forced to fetch the water, and fast the tears ran
down her cheeks! "Dear good God, help us now!" she exclaimed. "Had we
only been eaten by the wild beasts in the wood, then we should have died
together." But the old witch called out, "Leave off that noise; it will
not help you a bit."

So early in the morning Grethel was forced to go out and fill the
kettle, and make a fire. "First, we will bake, however," said the old
woman; "I have already heated the oven and kneaded the dough"; and so
saying, she pushed poor Grethel up to the oven, out of which the flames
were burning fiercely. "Creep in," said the witch, "and see if it is hot
enough, and then we will put in the bread"; but she intended when
Grethel got in to shut up the oven and let her bake, so that she might
eat her as well as Hansel. Grethel perceived what her thoughts were, and
said, "I do not know how to do it; how shall I get in?" "You stupid
goose," said she, "the opening is big enough. See, I could even get in
myself!" and she got up, and put her head into the oven. Then Grethel
gave her a push, so that she fell right in, and then shutting the iron
door she bolted it! Oh! how horribly she howled; but Grethel ran away,
and left the ungodly witch to burn to ashes.

Now she ran to Hansel, and, opening his door, called out, "Hansel, we
are saved; the old witch is dead!" So he sprang out, like a bird out of
his cage when the door is opened; and they were so glad that they fell
upon each other's neck, and kissed each other over and over again. And
now, as there was nothing to fear, they went into the witch's house,
where in every corner were caskets full of pearls and precious stones.
"These are better than pebbles," said Hansel, putting as many into his
pocket as it would hold; while Grethel thought, "I will take some too,"
and filled her apron full. "We must be off now," said Hansel, "and get
out of this enchanted forest." But when they had walked for two hours
they came to a large piece of water. "We cannot get over," said Hansel;
"I can see no bridge at all." "And there is no boat, either," said
Grethel; "but there swims a white duck, and I will ask her to help us
over." And she sang:

"Little Duck, good little Duck,
Grethel and Hansel, here we stand;
There is neither stile nor bridge,
Take us on your back to land."

So the duck came to them, and Hansel sat himself on, and bade his sister
sit behind him. "No," answered Grethel, "that will be too much for the
duck; she shall take us over one at a time." This the good little bird
did, and when both were happily arrived on the other side, and had gone
a little way, they came to a well-known wood, which they knew the better
every step they went, and at last they perceived their father's house.
Then they began to run, and, bursting into the house, they fell into
their father's arms. He had not had one happy hour since he had left the
children in the forest; and his wife was dead. Grethel shook her apron,
and the pearls and precious stones rolled out upon the floor, and Hansel
threw down one handful after the other out of his pocket. Then all their
sorrows were ended, and they lived together in great happiness.

My tale is done. There runs a mouse; whoever catches her may make a
great, great cap out of her fur.


A father had two sons, the elder of whom was forward and clever enough
to do almost anything; but the younger was so stupid that he could learn
nothing, and when the people saw him they said, "Will thy father still
keep thee as a burden to him?" So, if anything was to be done, the elder
had at all times to do it; but sometimes the father would call him to
fetch something in the dead of night, and perhaps the way led through
the churchyard or by a dismal place, and then he used to answer, "No,
father, I cannot go there, I am afraid," for he was a coward. Or
sometimes of an evening, tales were told by the fireside which made one
shudder, and the listeners exclaimed, "Oh, it makes us shiver!" In a
corner, meanwhile, sat the younger son, listening, but he could not
comprehend what was said, and he thought, "They say continually, 'Oh, it
makes us shiver, it makes us shiver!' but perhaps shivering is an art
which I cannot understand." One day, however, his father said to him,
"Do you hear, you there in the corner? You are growing stout and big;
you must learn some trade to get your living by. Do you see how your
brother works? But as for you, you are not worth malt and hops."

"Ah, father," answered he, "I would willingly learn something. When
shall I begin? I want to know what shivering means, for of that I can
understand nothing."

The elder brother laughed when he heard this speech, and thought to
himself, "Ah! my brother is such a simpleton that he cannot earn his own
living. He who would make a good hedge must learn betimes to bend." But
the father sighed and said, "What shivering means you may learn soon
enough, but you will never get your bread by that."

Soon after the parish sexton came in for a gossip, so the father told
him his troubles, and how that his younger son was such a simpleton that
he knew nothing and could learn nothing. "Just fancy, when I asked him
how he intended to earn his bread, he desired to learn what shivering
meant!" "Oh, if that be all," answered the sexton, "he can learn that
soon enough with me; just send him to my place, and I will soon teach
him." The father was very glad, because he thought that it would do the
boy good; so the sexton took him home to ring the bells. About two days
afterward he called him up at midnight to go into the church-tower to
toll the bell. "You shall soon learn what shivering means," thought the
sexton, and getting up he went out too. As soon as the boy reached the
belfry, and turned himself round to seize the rope, he saw upon the
stairs, near the sounding-hole, a white figure. "Who's there?" he called
out; but the figure gave no answer, and neither stirred nor spoke.
"Answer," said the boy, "or make haste off; you have no business here
to-night." But the sexton did not stir, so that the boy might think it
was a ghost.

The boy called out a second time, "What are you doing here? Speak, if
you are an honest fellow, or else I will throw you downstairs."

The sexton said to himself, "That is not a bad thought"; but he remained
quiet as if he were a stone. Then the boy called out for the third time,
but it produced no effect; so, making a spring, he threw the ghost down
the stairs, so that it rolled ten steps, and then lay motionless in a
corner. Thereupon he rang the bell, and then going home, he went to bed
without saying a word, and fell fast asleep. The sexton's wife waited
some time for her husband, but he did not come; so at last she became
anxious, woke the boy, and asked him if he knew where her husband was,
who had gone before him to the belfry.

"No," answered the boy; "but there was someone standing on the steps who
would not give any answer, nor go away, so I took him for a thief and
threw him downstairs. Go now and see where he is; perhaps it may be he,
but I should be sorry for it." The wife ran off and found her husband
lying in a corner, groaning, with one of his ribs broken.

She took him up and ran with loud outcries to the boy's father, and said
to him, "Your son has brought a great misfortune on us; he has thrown my
husband down and broken his bones. Take the good-for-nothing fellow from
our house."

The terrified father came in haste and scolded the boy. "What do these
wicked tricks mean? They will only bring misfortune upon you."

"Father," answered the lad, "hear me! I am quite innocent. He stood
there at midnight like one who had done some evil; I did not know who it
was, and cried three times, 'Speak, or be off!'"

"Ah!" said the father, "everything goes badly with you. Get out of my
sight; I do not wish to see you again!"

"Yes, father, willingly; wait but one day, then I will go out and learn
what shivering means, that I may at least understand one business which
will support me."

"Learn what you will," replied the father, "all is the same to me. Here
are fifty dollars; go forth with them into the world, and tell no man
whence you came, or who your father is, for I am ashamed of you."

"Yes, father, as you wish; but if you desire nothing else, I shall
esteem that very lightly."

As soon as day broke the youth put his fifty dollars into a knapsack and
went out upon the high road, saying continually, "Oh, if I could but

Presently a man came up, who heard the boy talking to himself; and, as
they we're just passing the place where the gallows stood, the man said,
"Do you see? There is the tree where seven fellows have married the
hempen maid, and now swing to and fro. Sit yourself down there and wait
till midnight, and then you will know what it is to shiver!"

"Oh, if that be all," answered the boy, "I can very easily do that! But
if I learn so speedily what shivering is, then you shall have my fifty
dollars if you come again in the morning."

Then the boy went to the gallows, sat down, and waited for evening, and
as he felt cold he made a fire. But about midnight the wind blew so
sharp, that in spite of the fire he could not keep himself warm. The
wind blew the bodies against one another, so that they swung backward
and forward, and he thought, "If I am cold here below by the fire, how
must they freeze above!" So his compassion was excited, and, contriving
a ladder, he mounted, and, unloosening them one after another, he
brought down all seven. Then he poked and blew the fire, and set them
round that they might warm themselves; but as they sat still without
moving their clothing caught fire. So he said, "Take care of yourselves,
or I will hang all of you up again." The dead heard not, and silently
allowed their rags to burn. This made him so angry that he said, "If you
will not hear I cannot help you; but I will not burn with you." So he
hung them up again in a row, and sitting down by the fire he soon went
to sleep. The next morning the man came, expecting to receive his fifty
dollars, and asked, "Now do you know what shivering means?" "No," he
answered; "how should I know? Those fellows up there have not opened
their mouths, and were so stupid that they let the old rags on their
bodies be burnt." Then the man saw that he should not carry away the
fifty dollars that day, so he went away saying, "I never met with such a
one before."

The boy also went on his way and began again to say, "Ah, if only I
could but shiver--if I could but shiver!" A wagoner walking behind
overheard him, and asked, "Who are you?"

"I do not know," answered the boy.

The wagoner asked again, "What do you here?"

"I know not."

"Who is your father?"

"I dare not say."

"What is it you are continually grumbling about?"

"Oh," replied the youth, "I wish to learn what shivering is, but nobody
can teach me."

"Cease your silly talk," said the wagoner. "Come with me, and I will see
what I can do for you." So the boy went with the wagoner, and about
evening time they arrived at an inn where they put up for the night, and
while they were going into the parlor he said, quite aloud, "Oh, if I
could but shiver--if I could but shiver!" The host overheard him and
said, laughingly, "Oh, if that is all you wish, you shall soon have the
opportunity." "Hold your tongue," said his wife; "so many imprudent
people have already lost their lives, it were a shame and sin to such
beautiful eyes that they should not see the light again." But the youth
said, "If it were ever so difficult I would at once learn it; for that
reason I left home"; and he never let the host have any peace till he
told him that not far off stood an enchanted castle, where any one might
soon learn to shiver if he would watch there three nights. The King had
promised his daughter in marriage to whoever would venture, and she was
the most beautiful young lady that the sun ever shone upon. And he
further told him that inside the castle there was an immense amount of
treasure guarded by evil spirits; enough to make any one free, and turn
a poor man into a very rich one. Many, he added, had already ventured
into this castle, but no one had ever come out again.

The next morning this youth went to the King, and said, "If you will
allow me, I wish to watch three nights in the enchanted castle." The
King looked at him, and because his appearance pleased him, he said,
"You may make three requests, but they must be inanimate things you ask
for, and such as you can take with you into the castle." So the youth
asked for a fire, a lathe, and a cutting-board.

The King let him take these things by day into the castle, and when it
was evening the youth went in and made himself a bright fire in one of
the rooms, and, placing his cutting-board and knife near it, he sat down
upon his lathe. "Ah, if I could but shiver!" said he. "But even here I
shall never learn." At midnight he got up to stir the fire, and, as he
poked it, there shrieked suddenly in one corner, "Miau, miau! how cold I
am!" "You simpleton!" he exclaimed, "what are you shrieking for? If you
are so cold come and sit down by the fire and warm yourself!" As he was
speaking, two great black cats sprang up to him with an immense jump and
sat down one on each side, looking at him quite wildly with their fiery
eyes. When they had warmed themselves for a little while they said,
"Comrade, shall we have a game of cards?" "Certainly," he replied; "but
let me see your paws first." So they stretched out their claws, and he
said, "Ah, what long nails you have got; wait a bit, I must cut them off
first"; and so saying he caught them up by the necks, and put them on
his board and screwed their feet down. "Since I have seen what you are
about I have lost my relish for a game at cards," said he; and,
instantly killing them, threw them away into the water. But no sooner
had he quieted these two and thought of sitting down again by his fire,
than there came out of every hole and corner black cats and black dogs
with glowing chains, continually more and more, so that he could not
hide himself. They howled fearfully, and jumped upon his fire, and
scattered it about as if they would extinguish it. He looked on quietly
for some time, but at last, getting angry, he took up his knife and
called out, "Away with you, you vagabonds!" and chased them about until
a part ran off, and the rest he killed and threw into the pond. As soon
as he returned he blew up the sparks of his fire again and warmed
himself, and while he sat his eyes began to feel very heavy and he
wished to go to sleep. So looking around he saw a great bed in one
corner, in which he lay down; but no sooner had he closed his eyes, than
the bed began to move of itself and travelled all round the castle.
"Just so," said he, "only better still"; whereupon the bed galloped away
as if six horses pulled it up and down steps and stairs, until at last,
all at once, it overset, bottom upward, and lay upon him like a
mountain; but up he got, threw pillows and mattresses into the air, and
saying, "Now he who wishes may travel," laid himself down by the fire
and slept till day broke. In the morning the King came, and, seeing the
youth lying on the ground, he thought that the spectres had killed him,
and that he was dead; so he said, "It is a great misfortune that the
finest men are thus killed"; but the youth, hearing this, sprang up,
saying, "It is not come to that with me yet!" The King was much
astonished, but very glad, and asked him how he had fared. "Very well,"
replied he; "as one night has passed, so also may the other two." Soon
after he met his landlord, who opened his eyes when he saw him. "I never
thought to see you alive again," said he; "have you learnt now what
shivering means?" "No," said he; "it is all of no use. Oh, if any one
would but tell me!"

The second night he went up again into the castle, and sitting down by
the fire, began his old song, "If I could but shiver!" When midnight
came, a ringing and a rattling noise was heard, gentle at first and
louder and louder by degrees; then there was a pause, and presently with
a loud outcry half a man's body came down the chimney and fell at his
feet. "Holloa," he exclaimed; "only half a man answered that ringing;
that is too little." Then the ringing began afresh, and a roaring and
howling was heard, and the other half fell down. "Wait a bit," said he;
"I will poke up the fire first." When he had done so and looked round
again, the two pieces had joined themselves together, and an ugly man
was sitting in his place. "I did not bargain for that," said the youth;
"the bench is mine." The man tried to push him away, but the youth would
not let him, and giving him a violent push sat himself down in his old
place. Presently more men fell down the chimney, one after the other,
who brought nine thigh-bones and two skulls, which they set up, and then
they began to play at ninepins. At this the youth wished also to play,
so he asked whether he might join them. "Yes, if you have money!" "Money
enough," he replied, "but your balls are not quite round"; so saying he
took up the skulls, and, placing them on his lathe, turned them round.
"Ah, now you will roll well," said he. "Holloa! now we will go at it
merrily." So he played with them and lost some of his money, but as it
struck twelve everything disappeared. Then he lay down and went to sleep
quietly. On the morrow the King came for news, and asked him how he had
fared this time. "I have been playing ninepins," he replied, "and lost a
couple of dollars." "Have you not shivered?" "No! I have enjoyed myself
very much; but I wish some one would teach me that!"

On the third night he sat down again on his bench, saying in great
vexation, "Oh, if I could only shiver!" When it grew late, six tall men
came in bearing a coffin between them. "Ah, ah," said he, "that is
surely my little cousin, who died two days ago"; and beckoning with his
finger he called, "Come, little cousin, come!" The men set down the
coffin upon the ground, and he went up and took off the lid, and there
lay a dead man within, and as he felt the face it was as cold as ice.
"Stop a moment," he cried; "I will warm it in a trice"; and stepping up
to the fire he warmed his hands, and then laid them upon the face, but
it remained cold. So he took up the body, and sitting down by the fire,
he laid it on his lap and rubbed the arms that the blood might circulate
again. But all this was of no avail, and he thought to himself if two
lie in a bed together they warm each other; so he put the body in the
bed, and covering it up laid himself down by its side. After a little
while the body became warm and began to move about. "See, my cousin," he
exclaimed, "have I not warmed you?" But the body got up and exclaimed,
"Now I will strangle you." "Is that your gratitude?" cried the youth.
"Then you shall get into your coffin again"; and taking it up, he threw
the body in, and made the lid fast. Then the six men came in again and
bore it away. "Oh, deary me," said he, "I shall never be able to shiver
if I stop here all my lifetime!" At these words in came a man who was
taller than all the others, and looked more horrible; but he was very
old and had a long white beard. "Oh, you wretch," he exclaimed, "now
thou shalt learn what shivering means, for thou shalt die!"

"Not so quick," answered the youth; "if I die I must be brought to it

"I will quickly seize you," replied the ugly one.

"Softly, softly; be not too sure. I am as strong as you, and perhaps

"That we will see," said the ugly man. "If you are stronger than I, I
will let you go; come, let us try"; and he led him away through a dark
passage to a smith's forge. Then taking up an axe he cut through the
anvil at one blow down to the ground. "I can do that still better," said
the youth, and went to another anvil, while the old man followed him and
watched him, with his long beard hanging down. Then the youth took up an
axe, and, splitting the anvil at one blow, wedged the old man's beard in
it. "Now I have you; now death comes upon you!" and taking up an iron
bar he beat the old man until he groaned, and begged him to stop, and he
would give him great riches. So the youth drew out the axe, and let him
loose. Then the old man, leading him back into the castle, showed him
three chests full of gold in a cellar. "One share of this," said he,
"belongs to the poor, another to the King, and a third to yourself." And
just then it struck twelve and the old man vanished, leaving the youth
in the dark. "I must help myself out here," said he, and groping round
he found his way back to his room and went to sleep by the fire.

The next morning the King came and inquired, "Now have you learnt to
shiver?" "No," replied the youth; "what is it? My dead cousin came here,
and a bearded man, who showed me a lot of gold down below; but what
shivering means, no one has showed me!" Then the King said, "You have
won the castle, and shall marry my daughter."

"That is all very fine," replied the youth, "but still I don't know what
shivering means."

So the gold was fetched, and the wedding was celebrated, but the young
Prince (for the youth was a Prince now), notwithstanding his love for
his bride, and his great contentment, was still continually crying, "If
I could but shiver! if I could but shiver!" At last it fell out in this
wise: one of the chambermaids said to the Princess, "Let me bring in my
aid to teach him what shivering is." So she went to the brook which
flowed through the garden, and drew up a pail of water full of little
fish; and, at night, when the young Prince was asleep, his bride drew
away the covering and poured the pail of cold water and the little
fishes over him, so that they slipped all about him. Then the Prince
woke up directly, calling out, "Oh! that makes me shiver! dear wife,
that makes me shiver! Yes, now I know what shivering means!"


Once upon a time there lived a King who had three sons; the two elder
were learned and bright, but the youngest said very little and appeared
somewhat foolish, so he was always known as Dummling.

When the King grew old and feeble, feeling that he was nearing his end,
he wished to leave the crown to one of his three sons, but could not
decide to which. He thereupon settled that they should travel, and that
the one who could obtain the most splendid carpet should ascend the
throne when he died.

So that there could be no disagreement as to the way each one should go,
the King conducted them to the courtyard of the Palace, and there blew
three feathers, by turn, into the air, telling his sons to follow the
course that the three feathers took.

Then one of the feathers flew eastwards, another westwards, but the
third went straight up towards the sky, though it only sped a short
distance before falling to earth.

Therefore one son travelled towards the east, and the second went to the
west, both making fun of poor Dummling, who was obliged to stay where
his feather had fallen. Then Dummling, sitting down and feeling rather
miserable after his brothers had gone, looked about him, and noticed
that near to where his feather lay was a trap-door. On lifting this up
he perceived a flight of steps, down which he went. At the bottom was
another door, so he knocked upon it, and then heard a voice calling--

"Maiden, fairest, come to me,
Make haste to ope the door,
A mortal surely you will see,
From the world above is he,
We'll help him from our store."

And then the door was flung open, and the young man found himself facing
a big toad sitting in the centre of a number of young toads. The big
toad addressed him, asking him what he wanted.

Dummling, though rather surprised when he saw the toads, and heard them
question him, being good-hearted replied politely--

"I am desirous to obtain the most splendid carpet in the world; just now
it would be extremely useful to me."

The toad who had just spoken, called to a young toad, saying--

"Maiden, fairest, come to me,
'Tis a mortal here you see;
Let us speed all his desires,
Giving him what he requires."

Immediately the young toad fetched a large box. This the old one opened,
and took out an exquisite carpet, of so beautiful a design, that it
certainly could have been manufactured nowhere upon the earth.

Taking it with grateful thanks, Dummling went up the flight of steps,
and was once more in the Palace courtyard.

The two elder brothers, being of the opinion that the youngest was so
foolish that he was of no account whatever in trying to obtain the
throne, for they did not think he would find anything at all, had said
to each other:

"It is not necessary for us to trouble much in looking for the carpet!"
so they took from the shoulders of the first peasant they came across a
coarse shawl, and this they carried to their father.

At the same time Dummling appeared with his beautiful carpet, which he
presented to the King, who was very much surprised, and said--

"By rights the throne should be for my youngest son."

But when the two brothers heard this, they gave the old King no rest,

"How is it possible that Dummling, who is not at all wise, could control
the affairs of an important kingdom? Make some other condition, we beg
of you!"

"Well," agreed the father, "the one who brings me the most magnificent
ring shall succeed to my throne," and once more he took his sons outside
the Palace. Then, again, he blew three feathers into the air to show the
direction each one should go; whereupon the two elder sons went east and
west, but Dummling's flew straight up, and fell close by the trap-door.
Then the youngest son descended the steps as before, and upon seeing the
large toad he talked with her, and told her what he desired. So the big
box was brought, and out of it the toad handed him a ring which was of
so exquisite a workmanship that no goldsmith's could equal it.

Meanwhile the two elder brothers made fun of the idea of Dummling
searching for a ring, and they decided to take no needless trouble

Therefore, finding an old iron ring belonging to some harness, they took
that to the King. Dummling was there before them with his valuable ring,
and immediately upon his showing it, the father declared that in justice
the kingdom should be his.

In spite of this, however, the two elder sons worried the poor King into
appointing one test further, before bestowing his kingdom, and the King,
giving way, announced that the one who brought home the most beautiful
woman should inherit the crown.

Then Dummling again descended to the large toad and made known to her
that he wished to find the most beautiful woman alive.

"The most beautiful woman is not always at hand," said the toad,
"however, you shall have her."

Then she gave to him a scooped-out turnip to which half a dozen little
mice were attached. The young man regarded this a trifle despondently,
for it had no great resemblance to what he was seeking.

"What can I make of this?" he asked.

"Only place in it one of my young toads," replied the large toad, "and
then you can decide how to use it."

From the young toads around the old toad, the young man seized one at
hazard, and placed it in the scooped-out turnip, but hardly was it there
when the most astounding change occurred, for the toad was transformed
into a wondrously lovely maiden, the turnip became an elegant carriage,
and the six mice were turned into handsome horses. The young man kissed
the maiden and drove off to bring her to the King.

Not long afterwards the two brothers arrived.

In the same way, as the twice before, they had taken no trouble about
the matter, but had picked up the first passable looking peasant woman
whom they had happened to meet.

After glancing at the three, the King said: "Without doubt, at my death
the kingdom will be Dummling's."

Once more the brothers loudly expressed their discontent, and gave the
King no peace, declaring--

"It is impossible for us to agree to Dummling becoming ruler of the
kingdom," and they insisted that the women should be required to spring
through a hoop which was suspended from the ceiling in the centre of the
hall, thinking to themselves "Now, certainly our peasants will get the
best of it, they are active and sturdy, but that fragile lady will kill
herself if she jumps."

To this, again, the King consented, and the peasants were first given

They sprang through the hoop, indeed, but so clumsily that they fell,
breaking their arms and legs.

Upon which the lovely lady whom Dummling had brought home, leapt through
as lightly as a fawn, and this put an end to all contention.

So the crown came to Dummling, who lived long, and ruled his people
temperately and justly.


It was in the middle of winter, when the broad flakes of snow were
falling around, that a certain queen sat working at her window, the
frame of which was made of fine black ebony; and, as she was looking out
upon the snow, she pricked her finger, and three drops of blood fell
upon it. Then she gazed thoughtfully down on the red drops which
sprinkled the white snow and said, "Would that my little daughter may be
as white as that snow, as red as the blood, and as black as the ebony
window-frame!" And so the little girl grew up; her skin was a white as
snow, her cheeks as rosy as blood, and her hair as black as ebony; and
she was called Snow-White.

But this queen died; and the king soon married another wife, who was
very beautiful, but so proud that she could not bear to think that any
one could surpass her. She had a magical looking-glass, to which she
used to go and gaze upon herself in it, and say--

"Tell me, glass, tell me true!
Of all the ladies in the land,
Who is fairest? tell me who?"

And the glass answered, "Thou, Queen, art fairest in the land"

But Snow-White grew more and more beautiful; and when she was seven
years old, she was as bright as the day, and fairer than the queen
herself. Then the glass one day answered queen, when she went to consult
it as usual--

"Thou, Queen, may'st fair and beauteous be,
But Snow-White is lovelier far than thee?"

When the queen heard this she turned pale with rage and envy; and
calling to one of her servants said, "Take Snow-White away into the wide
wood, that I may never see her more." Then the servant led the little
girl away; but his heart melted when she begged him to spare her life,
and he said, "I will not hurt thee, thou pretty child." So he left her
there alone; and though he thought it most likely that the wild beasts
would tear her to pieces, he felt as if a great weight were taken off
his heart when he had made up his mind not to kill her, but leave her to
her fate.

Then poor Snow-White wandered along through the wood in great fear; and
the wild beasts roared around, but none did her any harm. In the evening
she came to a little cottage, and went in there to rest, for her weary
feet would carry her no further. Everything was spruce and neat in the
cottage: on the table was spread a white cloth, and there were seven
little plates with seven little loaves and seven little glasses with
wine in them; and knives and forks laid in order, and by the wall stood
seven little beds. Then, as she was exceedingly hungry, she picked a
little piece off each loaf, and drank a very little wine out of each
glass; and after that she thought she would lie down and rest. So she
tried all the little beds; and one was too long, and another was too
short, till, at last, the seventh suited her; and there she laid herself
down and went to sleep. Presently in came the masters of the cottage,
who were seven little dwarfs that lived among the mountains, and dug and
searched about for gold. They lighted up their seven lamps, and saw
directly that all was not right. The first said, "Who has been sitting
on my stool?" The second, "Who has been eating off my plate?" The third,
"Who has been picking at my bread?" The fourth, "Who has been meddling
with my spoon?" The fifth, "Who has been handling my fork?" The sixth,
"Who has been cutting with my knife?" The seventh, "Who has been
drinking my wine?" Then the first looked around and said, "Who has been
lying on my bed?" And the rest came running to him, and every one cried
out that somebody had been upon his bed. But the seventh saw Snow-White,
and called upon his brethren to come and look at her; and they cried out
with wonder and astonishment, and brought their lamps and gazing upon
her, they said, "Good heavens! what a lovely child she is!" And they
were delighted to see her, and took care not to waken her; and the
seventh dwarf slept an hour with each of the other dwarfs in turn, till
the night was gone.

In the morning Snow-White told them all her story, and they pitied her,
and said if she would keep all things in order, and cook and wash, and
knit and spin for them, she might stay where she was, and they would
take good care of her. Then they went out all day long to their work,
seeking for gold and silver in the mountains; and Snow-White remained at
home; and they warned her, saying, "The queen will soon find out where
you are, so take care and let no one in." But the queen, now that she
thought Snow-White was dead, believed that she was certainly the
handsomest lady in the land; so she went to her glass and said--

"Tell me, glass, tell me true!
Of all the ladies in the land,
Who is fairest? tell me who?"

And the glass answered--

"Thou, Queen, thou are fairest in all this land;
But over the Hills, in the greenwood shade,
Where the seven dwarfs their dwelling have made,
There Snow-White is hiding; and she
Is lovelier far, O Queen, than thee."

Then the queen was very much alarmed; for she knew that the glass always
spoke the truth, and she was sure that the servant had betrayed her. And
as she could not bear to think that any one lived who was more beautiful
than she was, she disguised herself as an old pedlar woman and went her
way over the hills to the place where the dwarfs dwelt. Then she knocked
at the door and cried, "Fine wares to sell!" Snow-White looked out of
the window, and said, "Good day, good woman; what have you to sell?"
"Good wares, fine wares," replied she; "laces and bobbins of all
colors." "I will let the old lady in; she seems to be a very good sort
of a body," thought Snow-White; so she ran down, and unbolted the door.
"Bless me!" said the woman, "how badly your stays are laced. Let me lace
them up with one of my nice new laces." Snow-White did not dream of any
mischief; so she stood up before the old woman who set to work so
nimbly, and pulled the lace so tightly that Snow-White lost her breath,
and fell down as if she were dead. "There's an end of all thy beauty,"
said the spiteful queen, and went away home.

In the evening the seven dwarfs returned; and I need not say how grieved
they were to see their faithful Snow-White stretched upon the ground
motionless, as if she were quite dead. However, they lifted her up, and
when they found what was the matter, they cut the lace; and in a little
time she began to breathe, and soon came to herself again. Then they
said, "The old woman was the queen; take care another time, and let no
one in when we are away."

When the queen got home, she went to her glass, and spoke to it, but to
her surprise it replied in the same words as before.

Then the blood ran cold in her heart with spite and malice to hear that
Snow-White still lived; and she dressed herself up again in a disguise,
but very different from the one she wore before, and took with her a
poisoned comb. When she reached the dwarfs' cottage, she knocked at the
door, and cried, "Fine wares to sell!" but Snow-White said, "I dare not
let any one in." Then the queen said, "Only look at my beautiful combs;"
and gave her the poisoned one. And it looked so pretty that the little
girl took it up and put it into her hair to try it; but the moment it
touched her head the poison was so powerful that she fell down
senseless. "There you may lie," said the queen, and went her way. But by
good luck the dwarfs returned very early that evening; and when they saw
Snow-White lying on the ground, they thought what had happened, and soon
found the poisoned comb. And when they took it away, she recovered, and
told them all that had passed; and they warned her once more not to open
the door to any one.

Meantime the queen went home to her glass, and trembled with rage when
she received exactly the same answer as before; and she said,
"Snow-White shall die, if it costs me my life." So she went secretly
into a chamber, and prepared a poisoned apple: the outside looked very
rosy and tempting, but whosoever tasted it was sure to die. Then she
dressed herself up as a peasant's wife, and travelled over the hills to
the dwarfs' cottage, and knocked at the door; but Snow-White put her
head out of the window, and said, "I dare not let any one in, for the
dwarfs have told me not to." "Do as you please," said the old woman,
"but at any rate take this pretty apple; I will make you a present of
it." "No," said Snow-White, "I dare not take it." "You silly girl!"
answered the other, "what are you afraid of? do you think it is
poisoned? Come! do you eat one part, and I will eat the other." Now the
apple was so prepared that one side was good, though the other side was
poisoned. Then Snow-White was very much tempted to taste, for the apple
looked exceedingly nice; and when she saw the old woman eat, she could
refrain no longer. But she had scarcely put the piece into her mouth
when she fell down dead upon the ground. "This time nothing will save
thee," said the queen; and she went home to her glass, and at last it
said--"Thou, Queen, art the fairest of all the fair." And then her
envious heart was glad, and as happy as such a heart could be.

When evening came, and the dwarfs returned home, they found Snow-White
lying on the ground; no breath passed her lips, and they were afraid
that she was quite dead. They lifted her up, and combed her hair, and
washed her face with wine and water; but all was in vain. So they laid
her down upon a bier, and all seven watched and bewailed her three whole
days; and then they proposed to bury her; but her cheeks were still
rosy, and her face looked just as it did while she was alive; so they
said, "We will never bury her in the cold ground." And they made a
coffin of glass so that they might still look at her, and wrote her name
upon it in golden letters, and that she was a king's daughter. Then the
coffin was placed upon the hill, and one of the dwarfs always sat by it
and watched. And the birds of the air came, too, and bemoaned
Snow-White. First of all came an owl, and then a raven, but at last came
a dove.

And thus Snow-White lay for a long, long time, and still only looked as
though she were asleep; for she was even now as white as snow, and as
red as blood, and as black as ebony. At last a prince came and called at
the dwarfs' house; and he saw Snow-White and read what was written in
golden letters. Then he offered the dwarfs money, and earnestly prayed
them to let him take her away; but they said, "We will not part with her
for all the gold in the world." At last, however, they had pity on him,
and gave him the coffin; but the moment he lifted it up to carry it home
with him, the piece of apple fell from between her lips, and Snow-White
awoke, and exclaimed, "Where am I!" And the prince answered, "Thou art
safe with me." Then he told her all that had happened, and said, "I love
you better than all the world; come with me to my father's palace, and
you shall be my wife." Snow-White consented, and went home with the
prince; and everything was prepared with great pomp and splendor for
their wedding.

To the feast was invited, among the rest, Snow-White's old enemy, the
queen; and as she was dressing herself in fine, rich clothes, she looked
in the glass and said, "Tell me, glass, tell me true! Of all the ladies
in the land, Who is fairest? tell me who?" And the glass answered,
"Thou, lady, art the loveliest _here_, I ween; But lovelier far is the
new-made queen."

When she heard this, the queen started with rage; but her envy and
curiosity were so great, that she could not help setting out to see the
bride. And when she arrived, and saw that it was no other than
Snow-White, whom she thought had been dead a long while, she choked with
passion, and fell ill and died; but Snow-White and the prince lived and
reigned happily over that land, many, many years.


Once upon a time there was a youth named Frederick and a girl called
Catherine, who had married and lived together as a young couple. One day
Fred said, "I am now going into the fields, dear Catherine, and by the
time I return let there be something hot upon the table, for I shall be
hungry, and something to drink, too, for I shall be thirsty."

"Very well, dear Fred," said she, "go at once, and I will make all right
for you."

As soon, then, as dinner-time approached, she took down a sausage out of
the chimney, and putting it in a frying-pan with batter, set it over the
fire. Soon the sausage began to frizzle and spit while Catherine stood
by holding the handle of the pan and thinking; and among other things
she thought that while the sausage was getting ready she might go into
the cellar and draw some beer. So she took a can and went down into the
cellar to draw the beer, and while it ran into the can, she bethought
herself that perhaps the dog might steal the sausage out of the pan, and
so up the cellar stairs she ran, but too late, for the rogue had already
got the meat in his mouth and was sneaking off. Catherine, however,
pursued the dog for a long way over the fields, but the beast was
quicker than she, and would not let the sausage go, but bolted off at a
great rate. "Off is off!" said Catherine, and turned round, and being
very tired and hot, she went home slowly to cool herself. All this while
the beer was running out of the cask, for Catherine had forgotten to
turn the tap off, and so, as soon as the can was full, the liquor ran
over the floor of the cellar until it was all out. Catherine saw the
misfortune at the top of the steps. "My gracious!" she exclaimed; "what
shall I do that Fred may not find this out?" She considered for some
time till she remembered that a sack of fine malt yet remained from the
last brewing, in one corner, which she would fetch down and strew about
in the beer. "Yes," said she, "it was spared at the right time to be
useful to me now in my necessity"; and down she pulled the sack so
hastily that she overturned the can of beer for Fred, and away it mixed
with the rest on the floor. "It is all right," said she, "where one is,
the other should be," and she strewed the malt over the whole cellar.
When it was done she was quite overjoyed at her work, and said, "How
clean and neat it does look, to be sure!"

At noontime Fred returned. "Now, wife, what have you ready for me?" said
he. "Ah, my dear Fred," she replied, "I would have fried you a sausage,
but while I drew the beer the dog stole it out of the pan, and while I
hunted the dog the beer all ran out, and as I was about to dry up the
beer with the malt I overturned your can; but be contented, the cellar
is quite dry again now."

"Oh, Catherine, Catherine!" said Fred; "you should not have done so! to
let the sausage be stolen! and the beer run out! and over all to shoot
our best sack of malt!"

"Well, Fred," said she, "I did not know that; you should have told me."

But the husband thought to himself, if one's wife acts so, one must look
after things oneself. Now, he had collected a tolerable sum of silver
dollars, which he changed into gold, and then he told his wife, "Do you
see, these are yellow counters which I will put in a pot and bury in the
stable under the cow's stall; but mind that you do not meddle with it,
or you will come to some harm."

Catherine promised to mind what he said, but as soon as Fred was gone
some hawkers came into the village with earthenware for sale, and
amongst others they asked her if she would purchase anything. "Ah, good
people," said Catherine, "I have no money, and cannot buy anything, but
if you can make use of yellow counters I will buy them."

"Yellow counters! ah! why not? Let us look at them," said they.

"Go into the stable," she replied, "and dig under the cows stall, and
there you will find the yellow counters. I dare not go myself."

The rogues went at once, and soon dug up the shining gold which they
quickly pocketed, and then they ran off, leaving behind them their pots
and dishes in the house. Catherine thought she might as well make use of
the new pottery, and since she had no need of anything in the kitchen,
she set out each pot on the ground, and then put others on the top of
the palings round the house for ornament. When Fred returned, and saw
the fresh decorations, he asked Catherine what she had done. "I have
bought them, Fred," said she, "with the yellow counters which lay under
the cow's stall; but I did not dig them up myself; the pedlars did

"Ah, wife, what have you done?" replied Fred. "They were not counters,
but bright gold, which was all the property we possessed: you should not
have done so."

"Well, dear Fred," replied his wife, "you should have told me so before.
I did not know that."

Catherine stood considering for awhile, and presently she began, "Come,
Fred, we will soon get the gold back again; let us pursue the thieves."

"Well, come along," said Fred; "we will try at all events; but take
butter and cheese with you, that we may have something to eat on our

"Yes, Fred," said she, and soon made herself ready; but, her husband
being a good walker, she lagged behind. "Ah!" said she, "this is my
luck, for when we turn back I shall be a good bit forward." Presently
she came to a hill, on both sides of which there were very deep ruts.
"Oh, see!" said she, "how the poor earth is torn, flayed, and wounded;
it will never be well again all its life!" And out of compassion she
took out her butter, and greased the ruts over right and left, so that
the wheels might run more easily through them, and, while she stooped in
doing this, a cheese rolled out of her pocket down the mountain.
Catherine said when she saw it, "I have already once made the journey
up, and I am not coming down after you: another shall run and fetch
you." So saying, she took another cheese out of her pocket and rolled it
down; but as it did not return, she thought, "Perhaps they are waiting
for a companion and don't like to come alone"; and down she bowled a
third cheese. Still all three stayed, and she said, "I cannot think what
this means; perhaps it is that the third cheese has missed his way: I
will send a fourth, that he may call him as he goes by." But this one
acted no better than the others, and Catherine became so anxious that
she threw down a fifth and a sixth cheese also, and they were the last.
For a long time after this she waited, expecting they would come, but
when she found they did not she cried out, "You are nice fellows to send
after a dead man! you stop a fine time! but do you think I shall wait
for you? Oh, no! I shall go on; you can follow me; you have younger legs
than I."

So saying, Catherine walked on and came up with Fred, who was waiting
for her, because he needed something to eat. "Now," said he, "give me
quickly what you brought." She handed him the dry bread. "Where are the
butter and cheese?" cried her husband. "Oh, Fred, dear," she replied,
"with the butter I have smeared the ruts, and the cheeses will soon
come, but one ran away, and I sent the others after it to call it back!"

"It was silly of you to do so," said Fred, "to grease the roads with
butter, and to roll cheese down the hill!"

"If you had but told me so," said Catherine, vexedly.

So they ate the dry bread together, and presently Fred said, "Catherine,
did you make things fast at home before you came out?"

"No, Fred," said she, "you did not tell me."

"Then go back and lock up the house before we go farther; bring
something to eat with you, and I will stop here for you."

Back went Catherine, thinking, "Ah! Fred will like something else to
eat. Butter and cheese will not please; I will bring with me a bag of
dried apples and a mug of vinegar to drink." When she had put these
things together she bolted the upper half of the door, but the under
door she raised up and carried away on her shoulder, thinking that
certainly the house was well protected if she took such good care of the
door! Catherine walked along now very leisurely, for, said she to
herself, "Fred will have all the longer rest!" and as soon as she
reached him she gave him the door, saying, "There, Fred, now you have
the house door you can take care of the house yourself."

"Oh! my goodness," exclaimed the husband, "what a clever wife I have!
She has bolted the top door, but brought away the bottom part, where any
one can creep through! Now it is too late to go back to the house, but
since you brought the door here you may carry it onward."

"The door I will willingly carry," replied Catherine, "but the apples
and the vinegar will be too heavy, so I shall hang them on the door and
make that carry them!"

Soon after they came into a wood and looked about for the thieves, but
they, could not find them, and when it became dark they climbed up into
a tree to pass the night. But scarcely had they done this when up came
the fellows who carried away what should not go with them, and find
things before they are lost. They laid themselves down right under the
tree upon which Fred and Catherine were, and making a fire, prepared to
share their booty. Then Fred slipped down on the other side, and
collected stones, with which he climbed the tree again, to beat the
thieves with. The stones, however, did them no harm, for the fellows
called out, "Ah! it will soon be morning, for the wind is shaking down
the chestnuts." All this while Catherine still had the door upon her
shoulder, and, as it pressed very heavily, she thought the dried apples
were in fault, and said to Fred, "I must throw down these apples." "No,
Catherine," said he, "not now, they might discover us." "Ah, I must,
though, they are so heavy."

"Well, then, do it in the hangman's name!" cried Fred.

As they fell down the rogues said, "Ah! the birds are pulling off the

A little while after Catherine said again, "Oh! Fred, I must pour out
the vinegar, it is so heavy."

"No, no!" said he, "it will discover us."

"Ah! but I must, Fred, it is very heavy," said Catherine.

"Well, then, do it in the hangman's name!" cried Fred.

So she poured out the vinegar, and as it dropped on them the thieves
said, "Ah! the dew is beginning to fall."

Not many minutes after Catherine found the door was still quite as
heavy, and said again to Fred, "Now I must throw down this door."

"No, Catherine," said he, "that would certainly discover us."

"Ah! Fred, but I must; it presses me so terribly."

"No, Catherine dear! do hold it fast," said Fred.

"There--it is gone!" said she.

"Then let it go in the hangman's name!" cried Fred, while it fell
crashing through the branches. The rogues below thought the Evil One was
descending the tree, and ran off, leaving everything behind them. And
early in the morning Fred and his wife descended, and found all their
gold under the tree.

As soon as they got home again, Fred said, "Now, Catherine, you must be
very industrious and work hard."

"Yes, my dear husband," said she; "I will go into the fields to cut
corn." When she was come into the field she said to herself, "Shall I
eat before I cut, or sleep first before I cut?" She determined to eat,
and soon became so sleepy over her meal that when she began to cut she
knew not what she was doing, and cut off half her clothes--gown,
petticoat and all. When, after a long sleep, Catherine awoke, she got up
half-stripped, and said to herself, "Am I myself? or am I not? Ah! I am
not myself." By and by night came on, and Catherine ran into the
village, and, knocking at her husband's window, called, "Fred!"

"What is the matter?" cried he.

"I want to know if Catherine is indoors!" said she.

"Yes, yes!" answered Fred, "she is certainly within, fast asleep."

"Then I am at home," said she, and ran away.

Standing outside Catherine found some thieves, wanting to steal, and
going up to them she said, "I will help you."

At this the thieves were very glad, not doubting but that she knew where
to light on what they sought. But Catherine, stepping in front of the
houses, called out, "Good people, what have you that we can steal?" At
this the thieves said, "You will do for us with a vengeance!" and they
wished they had never come near her; but in order to rid themselves of
her they said, "Just before the village the parson has some roots lying
in his field; go and fetch some."

Catherine went as she was bid, and began to grub for them, and soon made
herself very dirty with the earth. Presently a man came by and saw her,
and stood still, for he thought it was the Evil One who was grovelling
so among the roots. Away he ran into the village to the parson, and told
him the Evil One was in his field, rooting up the turnips. "Ah!
heavens!" said the parson, "I have a lame foot, and I cannot go out to
exorcize him."

"Then I will carry you a-pickaback," said the man, and took him up.

Just as they arrived in the field, Catherine got up and drew herself up
to her full height.

"Oh! it is the Evil One!" cried the parson, and both he and the man
hurried away; and, behold! the parson ran faster with his lame legs,
through fear and terror, than the countryman could with his sound legs!


One fine day a Tailor was sitting on his bench by the window in very
high spirits, sewing away most diligently, and presently up the street
came a country woman, crying, "Good jams for sale! Good jams for sale!"
This cry sounded nice in the Tailor's ears, and, poking his diminutive
head out of the window, he called, "Here, my good woman, just bring your
jams in here!" The woman mounted the three steps up to the Tailor's
house with her large basket, and began to open all the pots together
before him. He looked at them all, held them up to the light, smelt
them, and at last said, "These jams seem to me to be very nice, so you
may weigh me out two ounces, my good woman; I don't object even if you
make it a quarter of a pound." The woman, who hoped to have met with a
good customer, gave him all he wished, and went off grumbling, and in a
very bad temper.

"Now!" exclaimed the Tailor, "Heaven will send me a blessing on this
jam, and give me fresh strength and vigor;" and, taking the bread from
the cupboard, he cut himself a slice the size of the whole loaf, and
spread the jam upon it. "That will taste very nice," said he; "but,
before I take a bite, I will just finish this waistcoat." So he put the
bread on the table and stitched away, making larger and larger stitches
every time for joy. Meanwhile the smell of the jam rose to the ceiling,
where many flies were sitting, and enticed them down, so that soon a
great swarm of them had pitched on the bread. "Holloa! who asked you?"
exclaimed the Tailor, driving away the uninvited visitors; but the
flies, not understanding his words, would not be driven off, and came
back in greater numbers than before. This put the little man in a great
passion, and, snatching up in his anger a bag of cloth, he brought it
down with a merciless swoop upon them. When he raised it again he
counted as many as seven lying dead before him with outstretched legs.
"What a fellow you are!" said he to himself, astonished at his own
bravery. "The whole town must hear of this." In great haste he cut
himself out a band, hemmed it, and then put on it in large letters,
"SEVEN AT ONE BLOW!" "Ah," said he, "not one city alone, the whole world
shall hear it!" and his heart danced with joy, like a puppy-dog's tail.

The little Tailor bound the belt around his body, and made ready to
travel forth into the wide world, feeling the workshop too small for his
great deeds. Before he set out, however, he looked about his house to
see if there were anything he could carry with him, but he found only an
old cheese, which he pocketed, and observing a bird which was caught in
the bushes before the door, he captured it, and put that in his pocket
also. Soon after he set out boldly on his travels; and, as he was light
and active, he felt no fatigue. His road led him up a hill, and when he
arrived at the highest point of it he found a great Giant sitting there,
who was gazing about him very composedly.

But the little Tailor went boldly up, and said, "Good day, friend; truly
you sit there and see the whole world stretched below you. I also am on
my way thither to seek my fortune. Are you willing to go with me?"

The Giant looked with scorn at the little Tailor, and said, "You rascal!
you wretched creature!"

"Perhaps so," replied the Tailor; "but here may be seen what sort of a
man I am;" and, unbuttoning his coat, he showed the Giant his belt. The
Giant read, "SEVEN AT ONE BLOW"; and supposing they were men whom the
Tailor had killed, he felt some respect for him. Still he meant to try
him first; so taking up a pebble, he squeezed it so hard that water
dropped out of it. "Do as well as that," said he to the other, "if you
have the strength."

"If it be nothing harder than that," said the Tailor, "that's child's
play." And, diving into his pocket, he pulled out the cheese and
squeezed it till the whey ran out of it, and said, "Now, I fancy that I
have done better than you."

The Giant wondered what to say, and could not believe it of the little
man; so, catching up another pebble, he flung it so high that it almost
went out of sight, saying, "There, you pigmy, do that if you can."

"Well done," said the Tailor; "but your pebble will fall down again to
the ground. I will throw one up which will not come down;" and, dipping
into his pocket, he took out the bird and threw it into the air. The
bird, glad to be free, flew straight up, and then far away, and did not
come back. "How does that little performance please you, friend?" asked
the Tailor.

"You can throw well," replied the giant; "now truly we will see if you
are able to carry something uncommon." So saying, he took him to a large
oak tree, which lay upon the ground, and said, "If you are strong
enough, now help me to carry this tree out of the forest."

"With pleasure," replied the Tailor; "you may hold the trunk upon your
shoulder, and I will lift the boughs and branches, they are the
heaviest, and carry them."

The Giant took the trunk upon his shoulder, but the Tailor sat down on
one of the branches, and the Giant, who could not look round, was
compelled to carry the whole tree and the Tailor also. He being behind,
was very cheerful, and laughed at the trick, and presently began to sing
the song, "There rode three tailors out at the gate," as if the carrying
of trees were a trifle. The Giant, after he had staggered a very short
distance with his heavy load, could go no further, and called out, "Do
you hear? I must drop the tree." The Tailor, jumping down, quickly
embraced the tree with both arms, as if he had been carrying it, and
said to the Giant, "Are you such a big fellow, and yet cannot you carry
a tree by yourself?"

Then they travelled on further, and as they came to a cherry-tree, the
Giant seized the top of the tree where the ripest cherries hung, and,
bending it down, gave it to the Tailor to hold, telling him to eat. But
the Tailor was far too weak to hold the tree down, and when the Giant
let go, the tree flew up in the air, and the Tailor was taken with it.
He came down on the other side, however, unhurt, and the Giant said,
"What does that mean? Are you not strong enough to hold that twig?" "My
strength did not fail me," said the Tailor; "do you imagine that that
was a hard task for one who has slain seven at one blow? I sprang over
the tree simply because the hunters were shooting down here in the
thicket. Jump after me if you can." The Giant made the attempt, but
could not clear the tree, and stuck fast in the branches; so that in
this affair, too, the Tailor had the advantage.

Then the Giant said, "Since you are such a brave fellow, come with me to
my house, and stop a night with me." The Tailor agreed, and followed
him; and when they came to the cave, there sat by the fire two other
Giants, each with a roast sheep in his hand, of which he was eating. The
Tailor sat down thinking. "Ah, this is very much more like the world
than is my workshop." And soon the Giant pointed out a bed where he
could lie down and go to sleep. The bed, however, was too large for him,
so he crept out of it, and lay down in a corner. When midnight came, and
the Giant fancied the Tailor would be in a sound sleep, he got up, and
taking a heavy iron bar, beat the bed right through at one stroke, and
believed he had thereby given the Tailor his death-blow. At the dawn of
day the Giants went out into the forest, quite forgetting the Tailor,
when presently up he came, quite cheerful, and showed himself before
them. The Giants were frightened, and, dreading he might kill them all,
they ran away in a great hurry.

The Tailor travelled on, always following his nose, and after he had
journeyed some long distance, he came into the courtyard of a royal
palace; and feeling very tired he laid himself down on the ground and
went to sleep. Whilst he lay there the people came and viewed him on all
sides, and read upon his belt, "Seven at one blow." "Ah," they said,
"what does this great warrior here in time of peace? This must be some
valiant hero." So they went and told the King, knowing that, should war
break out, here was a valuable and useful man, whom one ought not to
part with at any price. The King took advice, and sent one of his
courtiers to the Tailor to beg for his fighting services, if he should
be awake. The messenger stopped at the sleeper's side, and waited till
he stretched out his limbs and unclosed his eyes, and then he mentioned
to him his message. "Solely for that reason did I come here," was his
answer; "I am quite willing to enter into the King's service." Then he
was taken away with great honor, and a fine house was appointed him to
dwell in.

The courtiers, however, became jealous of the Tailor, and wished him at
the other end of the world. "What will happen?" said they to one
another. "If we go to war with him, when he strikes out seven will fall
at one stroke, and nothing will be left for us to do." In their anger
they came to the determination to resign, and they went all together to
the King, and asked his permission, saying, "We are not prepared to keep
company with a man who kills seven at one blow." The King was sorry to
lose all his devoted servants for the sake of one, and wished that he
had never seen the Tailor, and would gladly have now been rid of him. He
dared not, however dismiss him, because he feared the Tailor might kill
him and all his subjects, and seat himself upon the throne. For a long
time he deliberated, till finally he came to a decision; and, sending
for the Tailor, he told him that, seeing he was so great a hero, he
wished to beg a favor of him. "In a certain forest in my kingdom," said
the King, "there are two Giants, who, by murder, rapine, fire, and
robbery, have committed great damage, and no one approaches them without
endangering his own life. If you overcome and slay both these Giants, I
will give you my only daughter in marriage, and half of my kingdom for a
dowry: a hundred knights shall accompany you, too, in order to render
you assistance."

"Ah, that is something for a man like me," thought the Tailor to
himself: "a lovely Princess and half a kingdom are not offered to one
every day." "Oh, yes," he replied, "I will soon settle these two Giants,
and a hundred horsemen are not needed for that purpose; he who kills
seven at one blow has no fear of two."

Speaking thus, the little Tailor set out, followed by the hundred
knights, to whom he said, immediately they came to the edge of the
forest, "You must stay here; I prefer to meet these Giants alone."

Then he ran off into the forest, peering about him on all sides; and
after a while he saw the two Giants sound asleep under a tree, snoring
so loudly that the branches above them shook violently. The Tailor, bold
as a lion, filled both his pockets with stones and climbed up the tree.
When he got to the middle of it he crawled along a bough, so that he sat
just above the sleepers, and then he let fall one stone after another
upon the body of one of them. For some time the Giant did not move,
until, at last awaking, he pushed his companion, and said, "Why are you
hitting me?"

"You have been dreaming," he answered; "I did not touch you." So they
laid themselves down again to sleep, and presently the Tailor threw a
stone down upon the other. "What is that?" he cried. "Why are you
knocking me about?"

"I did not touch you; you are dreaming," said the first. So they argued
for a few minutes; but, both being very weary with the day's work, they
soon went to sleep again. Then the Tailor began his fun again, and,
picking out the largest stone, threw it with all his strength upon the
chest of the first Giant. "This is too bad!" he exclaimed; and, jumping
up like a madman, he fell upon his companion, who considered himself
equally injured, and they set to in such good earnest, that they rooted
up trees and beat one another about until they both fell dead upon the
ground. Then the Tailor jumped down, saying, "What a piece of luck they
did not pull up the tree on which I sat, or else I must have jumped on
another like a squirrel, for I am not used to flying." Then he drew his
sword, and, cutting a deep wound in the breast of both, he went to the
horsemen and said, "The deed is done; I have given each his
death-stroke; but it was a tough job, for in their defence they uprooted
trees to protect themselves with; still, all that is of no use when such
an one as I come, who slew seven at one stroke."

"And are you not wounded?" they asked.

"How can you ask me that? they have not injured a hair of my head,"
replied the little man. The knights could hardly believe him, till,
riding into the forest, they found the Giants lying dead, and the
uprooted trees around them.

Then the Tailor demanded the promised reward of the King; but he
repented of his promise, and began to think of some new plan to shake
off the hero. "Before you receive my daughter and the half of my
kingdom," said he to him, "you must execute another brave deed. In the
forest there lives a unicorn that commits great damage, you must first
catch him."

"I fear a unicorn less than I did two Giants! Seven at one blow is my
motto," said the Tailor. So he carried with him a rope and an axe and
went off to the forest, ordering those, who were told to accompany him,
to wait on the outskirts. He had not to hunt long, for soon the unicorn
approached, and prepared to rush at him as if it would pierce him on the
spot. "Steady! steady!" he exclaimed, "that is not done so easily"; and,
waiting till the animal was close upon him, he sprang nimbly behind a
tree. The unicorn, rushing with all its force against the tree, stuck
its horn so fast in the trunk that it could not pull it out again, and
so it remained prisoner.

"Now I have got him," said the Tailor; and coming from behind the tree,
he first bound the rope around its neck, and then cutting the horn out
of the tree with his axe, he arranged everything, and, leading the
unicorn, brought it before the King.

The King, however, would not yet deliver over the promised reward, and
made a third demand, that, before the marriage, the Tailor should
capture a wild boar which did much damage, and he should have the
huntsmen to help him. "With pleasure," was the reply; "it is a mere
nothing." The huntsmen, however, he left behind, to their great joy, for
this wild boar had already so often hunted them, that they saw no fun in
now hunting it. As soon as the boar perceived the Tailor, it ran at him
with gaping mouth and glistening teeth, and tried to throw him down on
the ground; but our flying hero sprang into a little chapel which stood
near, and out again at a window, on the other side, in a moment. The
boar ran after him, but he, skipping around, closed the door behind it,
and there the furious beast was caught, for it was much too unwieldy and
heavy to jump out of the window.

The Tailor now ordered the huntsmen up, that they might see his prisoner
with their own eyes; but our hero presented himself before the King, who
was obliged at last, whether he would or no, to keep his word, and
surrender his daughter and the half of his kingdom.

If he had known that it was no warrior, but only a Tailor, who stood
before him, it would have grieved him still more.

So the wedding was celebrated with great magnificence, though with
little rejoicing, and out of a Tailor there was made a King.

A short time afterwards the young Queen heard her husband talking in his
sleep, saying, "Boy, make me a coat, and then stitch up these trowsers,
or I will lay the yard-measure over your shoulders!" Then she understood
of what condition her husband was, and complained in the morning to her
father, and begged he would free her from her husband, who was nothing
more than a tailor. The King comforted her by saying, "This night leave
your chamber-door open: my servants shall stand outside, and when he is
asleep they shall come in, bind him, and carry him away to a ship, which
shall take him out into the wide world." The wife was pleased with the
proposal; but the King's armor-bearer, who had overheard all, went to

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