But after a time he began to wonder how his wife really managed to keep alive, for he noticed that she never took a morsel of food, or even drank so much as a drop of water, and this he thought was altogether too little. But she seemed to thrive very well for all that, and he even thought she was getting a little stouter.
“I wonder if she’s deceiving me?” he thought.
So one day, when he was driving home from his work in the fields, he happened to meet his wife, who was coming from the cowshed with the milk.
“I wonder if she doesn’t take a sip of the milk when she is straining it,” he thought, and so he asked the lad to help him up on the roof and pull the damper aside, for he wanted to look down the chimney and see what his wife was doing. And this he did. He climbed up on the roof and put his head down the chimney, peering and prying all he could.
The lad then went in to his mistress.
“Master is now looking down the chimney,” he said.
“Down the chimney?” said the wife. “Well, then you must put some faggots on the hearth and make a fire.”
“I daren’t,” said the lad.
“If you daren’t, I dare,” said the woman, and so she made a fire and blew into it.
The farmer began shouting, for the smoke was nearly suffocating him.
“Bless me, is that you, husband?” said his wife.
“Yes, of course it is,” said the farmer.
“What are you hanging there for?” she said.
“Oh, I was longing so much for you, wifey, that I went the shortest way,” he said, and then he fell down on the hearth, and burned himself a good deal.
Some days passed and his wife neither ate nor drank, but if she did not grow stouter she did not become thinner.
“I wonder if she doesn’t eat some of the bacon when she goes to the storehouse,” he thought; and so he stole into the storehouse and ripped up one end of a large feather bed which was lying there. He crept into it and asked the lad to sew the ticking together again.
The lad did as he was bid, and then he went in to his mistress.
“Master is now lying inside the feather bed in the storehouse,” he said.
“Inside the feather bed in the storehouse?” said the wife. “You must go and beat it well, so that neither dust nor moths get into it,” she said, and so she took down a couple of stout hazel sticks and gave them to the lad.
“I daren’t,” said the lad.
“If you daren’t, I dare,” said the wife, and she went to the storehouse and began to beat the feather bed with all her might, so that the feathers flew about, and the farmer began shouting, for the blows hit him right across his face.
“Bless me, is that you, husband?” said the woman.
“Yes, of course it is,” said the farmer.
“What are you lying there for?” said his wife.
“I thought I would lie on something better than straw for once,” said the husband. They then ripped open the feather bed, and when he came out the blood was still streaming down his face.
Some days then passed and the wife neither ate nor drank, but her husband thought she was growing still stouter and more cheerful than ever.
“The devil knows what’s at the bottom of all this,” he thought. “I wonder if she drinks the beer when she goes into the cellar?”
And so he went down into the cellar and knocked the bottom out of an empty beer-barrel, and then he crept into the barrel, and asked the lad to put the bottom in again. The lad did as he was bid, and then he went in to his mistress.
“Master is now lying in the beer-barrel in the cellar,” said the lad.
“In the beer-barrel in the cellar?” said the wife. “You must fill it with boiling juniper lye, for it’s getting sour and leaky,” she said.
“I daren’t,” said the lad.
“If you daren’t, I dare,” said the wife, and so she began boiling juniper lye, and then she poured it into the barrel. The farmer began to shout, but she poured a whole kettleful into the barrel, and yet another after that.
The man went on shouting louder and louder.
“Bless me, is that you, husband?” said the wife.
“Yes, of course it is,” yelled the farmer.
“What are you lying there for?” said his wife.
But the farmer was not able to give any answer. He only moaned and groaned, for he was terribly scalded, and when they got him out of the barrel he was more dead than alive, and they had to carry him to his bed.
He now wished to see the parson, and while the lad went to fetch him the wife began to prepare some tasty dishes and to make cheese cakes and other nice things for the parson, so that he should not go away with an empty stomach.
But when the farmer saw how lavish she was in preparing all the dishes he shouted still louder than when he was scalded:
“All I possess! All I possess!” he cried, for he now believed they were going to eat up everything he had, and he knew that both the parson and the clerk were people who could make themselves at home and make a clean sweep of the table.
When the parson arrived the farmer was still shouting:
“All I possess! All I possess!”
“What is it your husband is saying?” said the parson.
“Oh, my husband is so terribly good and kind,” said the wife. “He means that I shall have all he possesses,” she said.
“His words must then be considered and looked upon as an intimation of his last will and testament,” said the parson.
“Just so!” said the wife.
“All I possess! All I possess!” cried the farmer, and then he died.
His wife then had him buried, and afterwards she went to the proper authorities about her husband’s affairs. And as both the parson and the clerk could give evidence that the farmer’s last words were that she should have all he possessed she got it all. And when a year was gone she married the lad on the farm, but whether after that time she was just as hard of hearing I have never heard.
THE OLD WOMAN and the TRAMP
Sweden
There was once a tramp, who went plodding his way through a forest. The distance between the houses was so great that he had little hope of finding a shelter before the night set in. But all of a sudden he saw some lights between the trees. He then discovered a cottage, where there was a fire burning on the hearth. How nice it would be to roast one’s self before that fire, and to get a bite of something, he thought; and so he dragged himself towards the cottage.
Just then an old woman came towards him.
“Good evening, and well met!” said the tramp.
“Good evening,” said the woman. “Where do you come from?”
“South of the sun, and east of the moon,” said the tramp; “and now I am on the way home again, for I have been all over the world with the exception of this parish,” he said.
“You must be a great traveller, then,” said the woman. “What may be your business here?”
“Oh, I want a shelter for the night,” he said.
“I thought as much,” said the woman; “but you may as well get away from here at once, for my husband is not at home, and my place is not an inn,” she said.
“My good woman,” said the tramp, “you must not be so cross and hard-hearted, for we are both human beings, and should help one another, it is written.”
“Help one another?” said the woman, “help? Did you ever hear such a thing? Who’ll help me, do you think? I haven’t got a morsel in the house! No, you’ll have to look for quarters elsewhere,” she said.
But the tramp was like the rest of his kind; he did not consider himself beaten at the first rebuff. Although the old woman grumbled and complained as much as she could, he was just as persistent as ever, and went on begging and praying like a starved dog, until at last she gave in, and he got permission to lie on the floor for the night.
That was very kind, he thought, and he thanked her for it.
“Better on the floor without s
leep, than suffer cold in the forest deep,” he said; for he was a merry fellow, this tramp, and was always ready with a rhyme.
When he came into the room he could see that the woman was not so badly off as she had pretended; but she was a greedy and stingy woman of the worst sort, and was always complaining and grumbling.
He now made himself very agreeable, of course, and asked her in his most insinuating manner for something to eat.
“Where am I to get it from?” said the woman. “I haven’t tasted a morsel myself the whole day.”
But the tramp was a cunning fellow, he was.
“Poor old granny, you must be starving,” he said. “Well, well, I suppose I shall have to ask you to have something with me, then.”
“Have something with you!” said the woman. “You don’t look as if you could ask any one to have anything! What have you got to offer one, I should like to know?”
“He who far and wide does roam sees many things not known at home; and he who many things has seen has wits about him and senses keen,” said the tramp. “Better dead than lose one’s head! Lend me a pot, granny!”
The old woman now became very inquisitive, as you may guess, and so she let him have a pot.
He filled it with water and put it on the fire, and then he blew with all his might till the fire was burning fiercely all round it. Then he took a four-inch nail from his pocket, turned it three times in his hand and put it into the pot.
The woman stared with all her might.
“What’s this going to be?” she asked.
“Nail broth,” said the tramp, and began to stir the water with the porridge stick.
“Nail broth?” asked the woman.
“Yes, nail broth,” said the tramp.
The old woman had seen and heard a good deal in her time, but that anybody could have made broth with a nail, well, she had never heard the like before.
“That’s something for poor people to know,” she said, “and I should like to learn how to make it.”
“That which is not worth having, will always go a-begging,” said the tramp.
But if she wanted to learn how to make it she had only to watch him, he said, and went on stirring the broth.
The old woman squatted on the ground, her hands clasping her knees, and her eyes following his hand as he stirred the broth.
“This generally makes good broth,” he said; “but this time it will very likely be rather thin, for I have been making broth the whole week with the same nail. If one only had a handful of sifted oatmeal to put in, that would make it all right,” he said. “But what one has to go without, it’s no use thinking more about,” and so he stirred the broth again.
“Well, I think I have a scrap of flour somewhere,” said the old woman, and went out to fetch some, and it was both good and fine.
The tramp began putting the flour into the broth, and went on stirring, while the woman sat staring now at him and then at the pot until her eyes nearly burst their sockets.
“This broth would be good enough for company,” he said, putting in one handful of flour after another. “If I had only a bit of salted beef and a few potatoes to put in, it would be fit for gentlefolks, however particular they might be,” he said. “But what one has to go without, it’s no use thinking more about.”
When the old woman really began to think it over, she thought she had some potatoes, and perhaps a bit of beef as well; and these she gave the tramp, who went on stirring, while she sat and stared as hard as ever.
“This will be grand enough for the best in the land,” he said.
“Well, I never!” said the woman; “and just fancy—all with a nail!”
He was really a wonderful man, that tramp! He could do more than drink a sup and turn the tankard up, he could.
“If one had only a little barley and a drop of milk, we could ask the king himself to have some of it,” he said; “for this is what he has every blessed evening—that I know, for I have been in service under the king’s cook,” he said.
“Dear me! Ask the king to have some! Well, I never!” exclaimed the woman, slapping her knees.
She was quite awestruck at the tramp and his grand connections.
“But what one has to go without, it’s no use thinking more about,” said the tramp.
And then she remembered she had a little barley; and as for milk, well, she wasn’t quite out of that, she said, for her best cow had just calved. And then she went to fetch both the one and the other.
The tramp went on stirring, and the woman sat staring, one moment at him and the next at the pot.
Then all at once the tramp took out the nail.
“Now it’s ready, and now we’ll have a real good feast,” he said. “But to this kind of soup the king and the queen always take a dram or two, and one sandwich at least. And then they always have a cloth on the table when they eat,” he said. “But what one has to go without, it’s no use thinking more about.”
But by this time the old woman herself had begun to feel quite grand and fine, I can tell you; and if that was all that was wanted to make it just as the king had it, she thought it would be nice to have it just the same way for once, and play at being king and queen with the tramp. She went straight to a cupboard and brought out the brandy bottle, dram glasses, butter and cheese, smoked beef and veal, until at last the table looked as if it were decked out for company.
Never in her life had the old woman had such a grand feast, and never had she tasted such broth, and just fancy, made only with a nail!
She was in such a good and merry humour at having learnt such an economical way of making broth that she did not know how to make enough of the tramp who had taught her such a useful thing.
So they ate and drank, and drank and ate, until they became both tired and sleepy.
The tramp was now going to lie down on the floor. But that would never do, thought the old woman; no, that was impossible. “Such a grand person must have a bed to lie in,” she said.
He did not need much pressing. “It’s just like the sweet Christmas time,” he said, “and a nicer woman I never came across. Ah, well! Happy are they who meet with such good people,” said he; and he lay down on the bed and went asleep.
And next morning when he woke the first thing he got was coffee and a dram.
When he was going the old woman gave him a bright dollar piece.
“And thanks, many thanks, for what you have taught me,” she said. “Now I shall live in comfort, since I have learnt how to make broth with a nail.”
“Well, it isn’t very difficult, if one only has something good to add to it,” said the tramp as he went his way.
The woman stood at the door staring after him.
“Such people don’t grow on every bush,” she said.
THE HONEST PENNY
Norway
Once on a time there was a poor woman who lived in a tumble-down hut far away in the wood. Little had she to eat, and nothing at all to burn, and so she sent a little boy she had out into the wood to gather fuel. He ran and jumped, and jumped and ran, to keep himself warm, for it was a cold grey autumn day, and every time he found a bough or a root for his billet, he had to beat his arms across his breast, for his fists were as red as the cranberries over which he walked, for very cold. So when he had got his billet of wood and was off home, he came upon a clearing of stumps on the hillside, and there he saw a white crooked stone.
“Ah! you poor old stone,” said the boy; “how white and wan you are! I’ll be bound you are frozen to death;” and with that he took off his jacket and laid it on the stone. So when he got home with his billet of wood his mother asked what it all meant that he walked about in wintry weather in his shirt-sleeves. Then he told her how he had seen an old crooked stone which was all white and wan for frost, and how he had given it his jacket.
“What a fool you are!” said his mother; “do you think a stone can freeze? But even if it froze till it shook again, know this—every one is nearest
to his own self. It costs quite enough to get clothes to your back, without your going and hanging them on stones in the clearings;” and as she said that, she hunted the boy out of the house to fetch his jacket.
So when he came where the stone stood, lo! it had turned itself and lifted itself up on one side from the ground. “Yes! yes! this is since you got the jacket, poor old thing,” said the boy.
But when he looked a little closer at the stone, he saw a money-box, full of bright silver, under it.
“This is stolen money, no doubt,” thought the boy; “no one puts money, come by honestly, under a stone away in the wood.”
So he took the money-box and bore it down to a tarn hard by and threw the whole hoard into the tarn; but one silver penny-piece floated on the top of the water.
“Ah! ah! that is honest,” said the lad; “for what is honest never sinks.”
So he took the silver penny and went home with it and his jacket. Then he told his mother how it had all happened, how the stone had turned itself, and how he had found a money-box full of silver money, which he had thrown out into the tarn because it was stolen money, and how one silver penny floated on the top.
“That I took,” said the boy, “because it was honest.”
“You are a born fool,” said his mother, for she was very angry; “were naught else honest than what floats on water, there wouldn’t be much honesty in the world. And even though the money were stolen ten times over, still you had found it; and I tell you again what I told you before, everyone is nearest to his own self. Had you only taken that money we might have lived well and happy all our days. But a ne’er-do-weel thou art, and a ne’er-do-weel thou wilt be, and now I won’t drag on any longer toiling and moiling for thee. Be off with thee into the world and earn thine own bread.”
So the lad had to go out into the wide world, and he went both far and long seeking a place. But wherever he came, folk thought him too little and weak, and said they could put him to no use. At last he came to a merchant, and there he got leave to be in the kitchen and carry in wood and water for the cook. Well, after he had been there a long time, the merchant had to make a journey into foreign lands, and so he asked all his servants what he should buy and bring home for each of them. So, when all had said what they would have, the turn came to the scullion too, who brought in wood and water for the cook. Then he held out his penny.
Nordic Tales Page 8