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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 head. 'Hark
ye!' said he, 'my worthy friend, you seem a good sort of fellow, so I
can't help doing you a kind turn. Your pig may get you into a scrape.
In the village I just came from, the squire has had a pig stolen out
of his sty. I was dreadfully afraid when I saw you that you had got
the squire's pig. If you have, and they catch you, it will be a bad
job for you. The least they will do will be to throw you into the
horse-pond. Can you swim?'

Poor Hans was sadly frightened. 'Good man,' cried he, 'pray get me out
of this scrape. I know nothing of where the pig was either bred or
born; but he may have been the squire's for aught I can tell: you know
this country better than I do, take my pig and give me the goose.' 'I
ought to have something into the bargain,' said the countryman; 'give
a fat goose for a pig, indeed! 'Tis not everyone would do so much for
you as that. However, I will not be hard upon you, as you are in
trouble.' Then he took the string in his hand, and drove off the pig
by a side path; while Hans went on the way homewards free from care.
'After all,' thought he, 'that chap is pretty well taken in. I don't
care whose pig it is, but wherever it came from it has been a very
good friend to me. I have much the best of the bargain. First there
will be a capital roast; then the fat will find me in goose-grease for
six months; and then there are all the beautiful white feathers. I
will put them into my pillow, and then I am sure I shall sleep soundly
without rocking. How happy my mother will be! Talk of a pig, indeed!
Give me a fine fat goose.'

As he came to the next village, he saw a scissor-grinder with his
wheel, working and singing,

'O'er hill and o'er dale
So happy I roam,
Work light and live well,
All the world is my home;
Then who so blythe, so merry as I?'

Hans stood looking on for a while, and at last said, 'You must be well
off, master grinder! you seem so happy at your work.' 'Yes,' said the
other, 'mine is a golden trade; a good grinder never puts his hand
into his pocket without finding money in it--but where did you get
that beautiful goose?' 'I did not buy it, I gave a pig for it.' 'And
where did you get the pig?' 'I gave a cow for it.' 'And the cow?' 'I
gave a horse for it.' 'And the horse?' 'I gave a lump of silver as big
as my head for it.' 'And the silver?' 'Oh! I worked hard for that
seven long years.' 'You have thriven well in the world hitherto,' said
the grinder, 'now if you could find money in your pocket whenever you

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