came to himself, and got upon his legs again, sadly vexed, and said to the shepherd,
’This riding is no joke, when a man has the luck to get upon a beast like this that
stumbles and flings him off as if it would break his neck. However, I’m off now once for
all: I like your cow now a great deal better than this smart beast that played me this
trick, and has spoiled my best coat, you see, in this puddle; which, by the by, smells
not very like a nosegay. One can walk along at one’s leisure behind that cow–keep good
company, and have milk, butter, and cheese, every day, into the bargain. What would I
give to have such a prize!’ ’Well,’ said the shepherd, ’if you are so fond of her, I will
change my cow for your horse; I like to do good to my neighbours, even though I lose
by it myself.’ ’Done!’ said Hans, merrily. ’What a noble heart that good man has!’
thought he. Then the shepherd jumped upon the horse, wished Hans and the cow good
morning, and away he rode.
Hans brushed his coat, wiped his face and hands, rested a while, and then drove
off his cow quietly, and thought his bargain a very lucky one. ’If I have only a piece of
bread (and I certainly shall always be able to get that), I can, whenever I like, eat my
butter and cheese with it; and when I am thirsty I can milk my cow and drink the milk:
and what can I wish for more?’ When he came to an inn, he halted, ate up all his bread,
and gave away his last penny for a glass of beer. When he had rested himself he set off
again, driving his cow towards his mother’s village. But the heat grew greater as soon
as noon came on, till at last, as he found himself on a wide heath that would take him
more than an hour to cross, he began to be so hot and parched that his tongue clave to
the roof of his mouth. ’I can find a cure for this,’ thought he; ’now I will milk my cow
and quench my thirst’: so he tied her to the stump of a tree, and held his leathern cap
to milk into; but not a drop was to be had. Who would have thought that this cow,
which was to bring him milk and butter and cheese, was all that time utterly dry? Hans
had not thought of looking to that.
While he was trying his luck in milking, and managing the matter very clumsily,
the uneasy beast began to think him very troublesome; and at last gave him such a
kick on the head as knocked him down; and there he lay a long while senseless. Luckily
a butcher soon came by, driving a pig in a wheelbarrow. ’What is the matter with you,
my man?’ said the butcher, as he helped him up. Hans told him what had happened,
how he was dry, and wanted to milk his cow, but found the cow was dry too. Then the
butcher gave him a flask of ale, saying, ’There, drink and refresh yourself; your cow will
give you no milk: don’t you see she is an old beast, good for nothing but the slaughter-
house?’ ’Alas, alas!’ said Hans, ’who would have thought it? What a shame to take my
horse, and give me only a dry cow! If I kill her, what will she be good for? I hate cow-
beef; it is not tender enough for me. If it were a pig now –like that fat gentleman you
are driving along at his ease–one could do something with it; it would at any rate make
sausages.’ ’Well,’ said the butcher, ’I don’t like to say no, when one is asked to do a
kind, neighbourly thing. To please you I will change, and give you my fine fat pig for the
cow.’ ’Heaven reward you for your kindness and self-denial!’ said Hans, as he gave the
butcher the cow; and taking the pig off the wheel-barrow, drove it away, holding it by
the string that was tied to its leg.
So on he jogged, and all seemed now to go right with him: he had met with some
misfortunes, to be sure; but he was now well repaid for all. How could it be otherwise
with such a travelling companion as he had at last got?
The next man he met was a countryman carrying a fine white goose. The
countryman stopped to ask what was o’clock; this led to further chat; and Hans told
him all his luck, how he had so many good bargains, and how all the world went gay
and smiling with him. The countryman than began to tell his tale, and said he was
going to take the goose to a christening. ’Feel,’ said he, ’how heavy it is, and yet it is
only eight weeks old. Whoever roasts and eats it will find plenty of fat upon it, it has
lived so well!’ ’You’re right,’ said Hans, as he weighed it in his hand; ’but if you talk of
fat, my pig is no trifle.’ Meantime the countryman began to look grave, and shook his