Saturday's Good Reading: “Foundling-Bird” by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm (translated into English by Margaret Hunt.)

There was once a forester who went into the forest to hunt, and as he entered it he heard a sound of screaming as if a little child were there. He followed the sound, and at last came to a high tree, and at the top of this a little child was sitting, for the mother had fallen asleep under the tree with the child, and a bird of prey had seen it in her arms, had flown down, snatched it away, and set it on the high tree.

The forester climbed up, brought the child down, and thought to himself, "Thou wilt take him home with thee, and bring him up with thy Lina." He took it home, therefore, and the two children grew up together. The one, however, which he had found on a tree was called Fundevogel, because a bird had carried it away. Fundevogel and Lina loved each other so dearly that when they did not see each other they were sad.

The forester, however, had an old cook, who one evening took two pails and began to fetch water, and did not go once only, but many times, out to the spring. Lina saw this and said, "Hark you, old Sanna, why are you fetching so much water?" "If thou wilt never repeat it to anyone, I will tell thee why." So Lina said, no, she would never repeat it to anyone, and then the cook said, "Early to-morrow morning, when the forester is out hunting, I will heat the water, and when it is boiling in the kettle, I will throw in Fundevogel, and will boil him in it."

Betimes next morning the forester got up and went out hunting, and when he was gone the children were still in bed. Then Lina said to Fundevogel, "If thou wilt never leave me, I too will never leave thee." Fundevogel said, "Neither now, nor ever will I leave thee." Then said Lina, "Then I will tell thee. Last night, old Sanna carried so many buckets of water into the house that I asked her why she was doing that, and she said that if I would promise not to tell any one she would tell me, and I said I would be sure not to tell any one, and she said that early to-morrow morning when father was out hunting, she would set the kettle full of water, throw thee into it and boil thee; but we will get up quickly, dress ourselves, and go away together."

The two children therefore got up, dressed themselves quickly, and went away. When the water in the kettle was boiling, the cook went into the bed-room to fetch Fundevogel and throw him into it. But when she came in, and went to the beds, both the children were gone. Then she was terribly alarmed, and she said to herself, "What shall I say now when the forester comes home and sees that the children are gone? They must be followed instantly to get them back again."

Then the cook sent three servants after them, who were to run and overtake the children. The children, however, were sitting outside the forest, and when they saw from afar the three servants running, Lina said to Fundevogel, "Never leave me, and I will never leave thee." Fundevogel said, "Neither now, nor ever." Then said Lina, "Do thou become a rose-tree, and I the rose upon it." When the three servants came to the forest, nothing was there but a rose-tree and one rose on it, but the children were nowhere. Then said they, "There is nothing to be done here," and they went home and told the cook that they had seen nothing in the forest but a little rose-bush with one rose on it. Then the old cook scolded and said, "You simpletons, you should have cut the rose-bush in two, and have broken off the rose and brought it home with you; go, and do it once." They had therefore to go out and look for the second time. The children, however, saw them coming from a distance. Then Lina said, "Fundevogel, never leave me, and I will never leave thee." Fundevogel said, "Neither now, nor ever." Said Lina, "Then do thou become a church, and I'll be the chandelier in it." So when the three servants came, nothing was there but a church, with a chandelier in it. They said therefore to each other, "What can we do here, let us go home." When they got home, the cook asked if they had not found them; so they said no, they had found nothing but a church, and that there was a chandelier in it. And the cook scolded them and said, "You fools! why did you not pull the church to pieces, and bring the chandelier home with you?" And now the old cook herself got on her legs, and went with the three servants in pursuit of the children. The children, however, saw from afar that the three servants were coming, and the cook waddling after them. Then said Lina, "Fundevogel, never leave me, and I will never leave thee." Then said Fundevogel, "Neither now, nor ever." Said Lina, "Be a fishpond, and I will be the duck upon it." The cook, however, came up to them, and when she saw the pond she lay down by it, and was about to drink it up. But the duck swam quickly to her, seized her head in its beak and drew her into the water, and there the old witch had to drown. Then the children went home together, and were heartily delighted, and if they are not dead, they are living still.

Saturday's Good Reading: “Ashenputtel” by the Brothers Grimm (translated into English by Alice Lucas)

 

The wife of a rich man fell ill, and when she felt that she was nearing her end, she called her only daughter to her bedside, and said:

‘Dear child, continue devout and good, then God will always help you, and I will look down upon you from heaven, and watch over you.’

Thereupon she closed her eyes, and breathed her last.

The maiden went to her mother’s grave every day and wept, and she continued to be devout and good. When the winter came, the snow spread a white covering on the grave, and when the sun of spring had unveiled it again, the husband took another wife. The new wife brought home with her two daughters, who were fair and beautiful to look upon, but base and black at heart.

Then began a sad time for the unfortunate step-child.

‘Is this stupid goose to sit with us in the parlour?’ they said.

‘Whoever wants to eat bread must earn it; go and sit with the kitchenmaid.’

They took away her pretty clothes, and made her put on an old grey frock, and gave her wooden clogs.

‘Just look at the proud Princess, how well she’s dressed,’ they laughed, as they led her to the kitchen. There, the girl was obliged to do hard work from morning till night, to get up at daybreak, carry water, light the fire, cook, and wash. Not content with that, the sisters inflicted on her every vexation they could think of; they made fun of her, and tossed the peas and lentils among the ashes, so that she had to sit down and pick them out again. In the evening, when she was worn out with work, she had no bed to go to, but had to lie on the hearth among the cinders. And because, on account of that, she always looked dusty and dirty, they called her Ashenputtel.

It happened one day that the Father had a mind to go to the Fair. So he asked both his step-daughters what he should bring home for them.

‘Fine clothes,’ said one.

‘Pearls and jewels,’ said the other.

‘But you, Ashenputtel?’ said he, ‘what will you have?’

‘Father, break off for me the first twig which brushes against your hat on your way home.’

Well, for his two step-daughters he brought beautiful clothes, pearls and jewels, and on his way home, as he was riding through a green copse, a hazel twig grazed against him and knocked his hat off. Then he broke off the branch and took it with him.

When he got home he gave his step-daughters what they had asked for, and to Ashenputtel he gave the twig from the hazel bush.

Ashenputtel thanked him, and went to her mother’s grave and planted the twig upon it; she wept so much that her tears fell and watered it. And it took root and became a fine tree.

Ashenputtel went to the grave three times every day, wept and prayed, and every time a little white bird came and perched upon the tree, and when she uttered a wish, the little bird threw down to her what she had wished for.

Now it happened that the King proclaimed a festival, which was to last three days, and to which all the beautiful maidens in the country were invited, in order that his son might choose a bride.

When the two step-daughters heard that they were also to be present, they were in high spirits, called Ashenputtel, and said: ‘Brush our hair and clean our shoes, and fasten our buckles, for we are going to the feast at the King’s palace.’

Ashenputtel obeyed, but wept, for she also would gladly have gone to the ball with them, and begged her step-mother to give her leave to go.

‘You, Ashenputtel!’ she said. ‘Why, you are covered with dust and dirt. You go to the festival! Besides you have no clothes or shoes, and yet you want to go to the ball.’

As she, however, went on asking, her Step-mother said:

‘Well, I have thrown a dishful of lentils into the cinders, if you have picked them all out in two hours you shall go with us.’

The girl went through the back door into the garden, and cried, ‘Ye gentle doves, ye turtle doves, and all ye little birds under heaven, come and help me,

 

‘The good into a dish to throw,

The bad into your crops can go.’

 

Then two white doves came in by the kitchen window, and were followed by the turtle doves, and finally all the little birds under heaven flocked in, chirping, and settled down among the ashes. And the doves gave a nod with their little heads, peck, peck, peck; and then the rest began also, peck, peck, peck, and collected all the good beans into the dish. Scarcely had an hour passed before they had finished, and all flown out again.

Then the girl brought the dish to her Step-mother, and was delighted to think that now she would be able to go to the feast with them.

But she said, ‘No, Ashenputtel, you have no clothes, and cannot dance; you will only be laughed at.’

But when she began to cry, the Step-mother said:

‘If you can pick out two whole dishes of lentils from the ashes in an hour, you shall go with us.’

And she thought, ‘She will never be able to do that.’

When her Step-mother had thrown the dishes of lentils

Ashenputtel goes to the ball

among the ashes, the girl went out through the back door, and cried, ‘Ye gentle doves, ye turtle doves, and all ye little birds under heaven, come and help me,

 

‘The good into a dish to throw,

The bad into your crops can go.’

 

Then two white doves came in by the kitchen window, and were followed by the turtle doves, and all the other little birds under heaven, and in less than an hour the whole had been picked up, and they had all flown away.

Then the girl carried the dish to her Step-mother, and was delighted to think that she would now be able to go to the ball.

But she said, ‘It’s not a bit of good. You can’t go with us, for you’ve got no clothes, and you can’t dance. We should be quite ashamed of you.’

Thereupon she turned her back upon her, and hurried off with her two proud daughters.

As soon as every one had left the house, Ashenputtel went out to her mother’s grave under the hazel-tree, and cried:

 

‘Shiver and shake, dear little tree,

Gold and silver shower on me.’

 

Then the bird threw down to her a gold and silver robe, and a pair of slippers embroidered with silk and silver. With all speed she put on the robe and went to the feast. But her step-sisters and their mother did not recognise her, and supposed that she was some foreign Princess, so beautiful did she appear in her golden dress. They never gave a thought to Ashenputtel, but imagined that she was sitting at home in the dirt picking the lentils out of the cinders.

The Prince came up to the stranger, took her by the hand, and danced with her. In fact, he would not dance with any one else, and never left go of her hand. If any one came up to ask her to dance, he said, ‘This is my partner.’

She danced until nightfall, and then wanted to go home; but the Prince said, ‘I will go with you and escort you.’

For he wanted to see to whom the beautiful maiden belonged. But she slipped out of his way and sprang into the pigeon-house.

Then the Prince waited till her Father came, and told him that the unknown maiden had vanished into the pigeon-house.

The old man thought, ‘Could it be Ashenputtel?’ And he had an axe brought to him, so that he might break down the pigeon-house, but there was no one inside.

When they went home, there lay Ashenputtel in her dirty clothes among the cinders, and a dismal oil lamp was burning in the chimney corner. For Ashenputtel had quietly jumped down out of the pigeon-house and ran back to the hazel-tree. There she had taken off her beautiful clothes and laid them on the grave, and the bird had taken them away again. Then she had settled herself among the ashes on the hearth in her old grey frock.

On the second day, when the festival was renewed, and her parents and step-sisters had started forth again, Ashenputtel went to the hazel-tree, and said:

 

‘Shiver and shake, dear little tree,

Gold and silver shower on me.’

 

Then the bird threw down a still more gorgeous robe than on the previous day. And when she appeared at the festival in this robe, every one was astounded by her beauty.

The King’s son had waited till she came, and at once took her hand, and she danced with no one but him. When others came forward and invited her to dance, he said, ‘This is my partner.’

At nightfall she wished to leave; but the Prince went after her, hoping to see into what house she went, but she sprang out into the garden behind the house. There stood a fine big tree on which the most delicious pears hung. She climbed up among the branches as nimbly as a squirrel, and the Prince could not make out what had become of her.

But he waited till her Father came, and then said to him, ‘The unknown maiden has slipped away from me, and I think that she has jumped into the pear-tree.’

The Father thought, ‘Can it be Ashenputtel?’ And he had the axe brought to cut down the tree, but there was no one on it. When they went home and looked into the kitchen, there lay Ashenputtel among the cinders as usual; for she had jumped down on the other side of the tree, taken back the beautiful clothes to the bird on the hazel-tree, and put on her old grey frock.

On the third day, when her parents and sisters had started, Ashenputtel went again to her mother’s grave, and said:

 

‘Shiver and shake, dear little tree,

Gold and silver shower on me.’

 

Then the bird threw down a dress which was so magnificent that no one had ever seen the like before, and the slippers were entirely of gold. When she appeared at the festival in this attire, they were all speechless with astonishment. The Prince danced only with her, and if any one else asked her to dance, he said, ‘This is my partner.’

When night fell and she wanted to leave, the Prince was more desirous than ever to accompany her, but she darted away from him so quickly that he could not keep up with her. But the Prince had used a stratagem, and had caused the steps to be covered with cobbler’s wax. The consequence was, that as the maiden sprang down them, her left slipper remained sticking there. The Prince took it up. It was small and dainty, and entirely made of gold.

The next morning he went with it to Ashenputtel’s Father, and said to him, ‘No other shall become my wife but she whose foot this golden slipper fits.’

The two sisters were delighted at that, for they both had beautiful feet. The eldest went into the room intending to try on the slipper, and her Mother stood beside her. But her great toe prevented her getting it on, her foot was too long.

Then her Mother handed her a knife, and said, ‘Cut off the toe; when you are Queen you won’t have to walk any more.’

The girl cut off her toe, forced her foot into the slipper, stifled her pain, and went out to the Prince. Then he took her up on his horse as his Bride, and rode away with her.

However, they had to pass the grave on the way, and there sat the two Doves on the hazel-tree, and cried:

 

‘Prithee, look back, prithee, look back,

There’s blood on the track,

The shoe is too small,

At home the true

Bride is waiting thy call.’

 

Then he looked at her foot and saw how the blood was streaming from it. So he turned his horse round and carried the false Bride back to her home, and said that she was not the right one; the second sister must try the shoe.

Then she went into the room, and succeeded in getting her toes into the shoe, but her heel was too big.

Then her Mother handed her a knife, and said, ‘Cut a bit off your heel; when you are Queen you won’t have to walk any more.’

The maiden cut a bit off her heel, forced her foot into the shoe, stifled her pain, and went out to the Prince.

Then he took her up on his horse as his Bride, and rode off with her.

As they passed the grave, the two Doves were sitting on the hazel-tree, and crying:

 

Prithee, look back, prithee, look back,

There’s blood on the track,

The shoe is too small,

At home the true

Bride is waiting thy call.’

 

He looked down at her foot and saw that it was streaming with blood, and there were deep red spots on her stockings. Then he turned his horse and brought the false Bride back to her home.

‘This is not the right one either,’ he said. ‘Have you no other daughter?’

‘No,’ said the man. ‘There is only a daughter of my late wife’s, a puny, stunted drudge, but she cannot possibly be the Bride.’

The Prince said that she must be sent for.

But the Mother answered, ‘Oh no, she is much too dirty; she mustn’t be seen on any account.’

He was, however, absolutely determined to have his way, and they were obliged to summon Ashenputtel.

When she had washed her hands and face, she went up and curtsied to the Prince, who handed her the golden slipper.

Then she sat down on a bench, pulled off her wooden clog and put on the slipper, which fitted to a nicety.

And when she stood up and the Prince looked into her face, he recognised the beautiful maiden that he had danced with, and cried: ‘This is the true Bride!’

The Stepmother and the two sisters were dismayed and turned white with rage; but he took Ashenputtel on his horse and rode off with her.

As they rode past the hazel-tree the two White Doves cried:

 

‘Prithee, look back, prithee, look back,

No blood’s on the track,

The shoe’s not too small,

You carry the true

Bride home to your hall.’

 

And when they had said this they both came flying down, and settled on Ashenputtel’s shoulders, one on the right, and one on the left, and remained perched there.

When the wedding was going to take place, the two false sisters came and wanted to curry favour with her, and take part in her good fortune. As the bridal party was going to the church, the eldest was on the right side, the youngest on the left, and the Doves picked out one of the eyes of each of them.

Afterwards, when they were coming out of the church, the elder was on the left, the younger on the right, and the Doves picked out the other eye of each of them. And so for their wickedness and falseness they were punished with blindness for the rest of their days.

 

Saturday's Good Reading: "Rapunzel" by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm (translated into English by D.L. Ashiiman)

First edition, 1812

Once upon a time there was a man and a woman who had long wished for a child but had never received one.

Finally, however, the woman came to be with child.

Through the small rear window of these people's house they could see into a fairy's garden that was filled with flowers and herbs of all kinds.

No one dared enter this garden.

One day the woman was standing at this window, and she saw the most beautiful rapunzel in a bed.

She longed for some, but not knowing how to get any, she became miserably ill.

Her husband was frightened, and asked her why she was doing so poorly.

"Oh, if I do not get some rapunzel from the garden behind our house, I shall surely die," she said.

The man, who loved her dearly, decided to get her some, whatever the cost.

One evening he climbed over the high wall, hastily dug up a handful of rapunzel, and took it to his wife.

She immediately made a salad from it, which she devoured greedily.

It tasted so very good to her that by the next day her desire for more had grown threefold.

The man saw that there would be no peace, so once again he climbed into the garden.

To his horror, the fairy was standing there.

She scolded him fiercely for daring to enter and steal from her garden.

He excused himself as best he could with his wife's pregnancy, and how it would be dangerous to deny her anything.

Finally the fairy spoke, "I will accept your excuse and even allow you to take as much rapunzel as you want, if you will give me the child that your wife is now carrying."

In his fear the man agreed to everything.

When the woman gave birth, the fairy appeared, named the little girl Rapunzel, and took her away.

This Rapunzel became the most beautiful child under the sun, but when she was twelve years old, the fairy locked her in a high tower that had neither a door nor a stairway, but only a tiny little window at the very top.

When the fairy wanted to enter, she stood below and called out:

 

    Rapunzel, Rapunzel!

    Let down your hair to me.

 

Rapunzel had splendid hair, as fine as spun gold.

When the fairy called out, she untied it, wound it around a window hook, let it fall twenty yards to the ground, and the fairy climbed up it.

One day a young prince came through the forest where the tower stood.

He saw the beautiful Rapunzel standing at her window, heard her sing with her sweet voice, and fell in love with her.

Because there was no door in the tower and no ladder was tall enough to reach her, he fell into despair.

He came to the forest every day, until once he saw the fairy, who said:

 

    Rapunzel, Rapunzel!

    Let down your hair.

 

Then Rapunzel let down her strands of hair, and the sorceress climbed up them to her.

"If that is the ladder into the tower, then sometime I will try my luck."

He remembered the words that he would have to speak, and the next day, as soon as it was dark, he went to the tower and called upward:

 

    Rapunzel, Rapunzel!

    Let down your hair!

 

She let her hair fall. He tied himself to it and was pulled up.

At first Rapunzel was frightened, but soon she came to like the young king so well that she arranged for him to come every day and be pulled up. Thus they lived in joy and pleasure for a long time.

The fairy did not discover what was happening until one day Rapunzel said to her, "Frau Gothel, tell me why it is that my clothes are all too tight. They no longer fit me."

"You godless child," said the fairy. "What am I hearing from you?" She immediately saw how she had been deceived and was terribly angry.

She took Rapunzel's beautiful hair, wrapped it a few times around her left hand, grasped a pair of scissors with her right hand, and snip snip, cut it off.

Then she sent Rapunzel into a wilderness where she suffered greatly and where, after a time, she gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl.

On the evening of the same day that she sent Rapunzel away, the fairy tied the cut-off hair to the hook at the top of the tower, and when the prince called out:

 

    Rapunzel, Rapunzel!

    Let down your hair!

 

she let down the hair.

The prince was startled to find the fairy instead of his beloved Rapunzel.

"Do you know what, evil one?" cried the angry fairy. "You have lost Rapunzel forever."

The prince, in his despair, threw himself from the tower.

He escaped with his life, but he lost his eyesight in the fall.

Sorrowfully he wandered about in the forest weeping and, eating nothing but grass and roots.

Some years later he happened into the wilderness where Rapunzel lived miserably with her children.

He thought that her voice was familiar.

She recognized him instantly as well and threw her arms around his neck.

Two of her tears fell into his eyes, and they became clear once again, and he could see as well as before.

 

 

 

Final edition, 1857

Once upon a time there was a man and a woman who had long, but to no avail, wished for a child.

Finally the woman came to believe that the good Lord would fulfill her wish.

Through the small rear window of these people's house they could see into a splendid garden that was filled with the most beautiful flowers and herbs.

The garden was surrounded by a high wall, and no one dared enter, because it belonged to a sorceress who possessed great power and was feared by everyone.

One day the woman was standing at this window, and she saw a bed planted with the most beautiful rapunzel.

It looked so fresh and green that she longed for some. It was her greatest desire to eat some of the rapunzel. This desire increased with every day, and not knowing how to get any, she became miserably ill.

Her husband was frightened, and asked her, "What ails you, dear wife?"

"Oh," she answered, " if I do not get some rapunzel from the garden behind our house, I shall die."

The man, who loved her dearly, thought, "Before you let your wife die, you must get her some of the rapunzel, whatever the cost."

So just as it was getting dark he climbed over the high wall into the sorceress's garden, hastily dug up a handful of rapunzel, and took it to his wife.

She immediately made a salad from it, which she devoured eagerly.

It tasted so very good to her that by the next day her desire for more had grown threefold.

If she were to have any peace, the man would have to climb into the garden once again.

Thus he set forth once again just as it was getting dark. But no sooner than he had climbed over the wall than, to his horror, he saw the sorceress standing there before him.

"How can you dare," she asked with an angry look, "to climb into my garden and like a thief to steal my rapunzel? You will pay for this."

"Oh," he answered, "Let mercy overrule justice. I came to do this out of necessity. My wife saw your rapunzel from our window, and such a longing came over her, that she would die, if she did not get some to eat."

The sorceress's anger abated somewhat, and she said, "If things are as you say, I will allow you to take as much rapunzel as you want. But under one condition: You must give me the child that your wife will bring to the world. It will do well, and I will take care of it like a mother."

In his fear the man agreed to everything.

When the woman gave birth, the sorceress appeared, named the little girl Rapunzel, and took her away.

Rapunzel became the most beautiful child under the sun. When she was twelve years old, the sorceress locked her in a tower that stood in a forest and that had neither a door nor a stairway, but only a tiny little window at the very top.

When the sorceress wanted to enter, she stood below and called out:

 

    Rapunzel, Rapunzel,

    Let down your hair to me.

 

Rapunzel had splendid long hair, as fine as spun gold.

When she heard the sorceress's voice, she untied her braids, wound them around a window hook, let her hair fall twenty yards to the ground, and the sorceress climbed up it.

A few years later it happened that a king's son was riding through the forest.

As he approached the tower he heard a song so beautiful that he stopped to listen. It was Rapunzel, who was passing the time by singing with her sweet voice.

The prince wanted to climb up to her, and looked for a door in the tower, but none was to be found.

He rode home, but the song had so touched his heart that he returned to the forest every day and listened to it. One time, as he was thus standing behind a tree, he saw the sorceress approach, and heard her say:

 

    Rapunzel, Rapunzel,

    Let down your hair.

 

Then he knew which ladder would get him into the tower.

And the next day, just as it was beginning to get dark, he went to the tower and called out:

 

    Rapunzel, Rapunzel,

    Let down your hair.

 

The hair fell down, and the prince climbed up.

At first Rapunzel was terribly frightened when a man such as she had never seen before came in to her. However, the prince began talking to her in a very friendly manner, telling her that his heart had been so touched by her singing that he could have no peace until he had seen her in person. Then Rapunzel lost her fear, and when he asked her if she would take him as her husband, she thought, "He would rather have me than would old Frau Gothel." She said yes and placed her hand into his. She said, "I would go with you gladly, but I do not know how to get down. Every time that you come, bring a strand of silk, from which I will weave a ladder. When it is finished I will climb down, and you can take me away on your horse." They arranged that he would come to her every evening, for the old woman came by day.

The sorceress did not notice what was happening until one day Rapunzel said to her, "Frau Gothel, tell me why it is that you are more difficult to pull up than is the young prince, who will be arriving any moment now?"

"You godless child," cried the sorceress. "What am I hearing from you? I thought I had removed you from the whole world, but you have deceived me nonetheless."

In her anger she grabbed Rapunzel's beautiful hair, wrapped it a few times around her left hand, grasped a pair of scissors with her right hand, and snip snap, cut it off.

And she was so unmerciful that she took Rapunzel into a wilderness where she suffered greatly.

On the evening of the same day that she sent Rapunzel away, the sorceress tied the cut-off hair to the hook at the top of the tower, and when the prince called out:

 

    Rapunzel, Rapunzel,

    Let down your hair.

 

she let down the hair.

The prince climbed up, but above, instead of his beloved Rapunzel, he found the sorceress, who peered at him with poisonous and evil looks.

"Aha!" she cried scornfully. "You have come for your Mistress Darling, but that beautiful bird is no longer sitting in her nest, nor is she singing any more. The cat got her, and will scratch your eyes out as well. You have lost Rapunzel. You will never see her again."

The prince was overcome with grief, and in his despair he threw himself from the tower.

He escaped with his life, but the thorns into which he fell poked out his eyes.

Blind, he wandered about in the forest, eating nothing but grass and roots, and doing nothing but weeping and wailing over the loss of his beloved wife.

Thus he wandered about miserably for some years, finally happening into the wilderness where Rapunzel lived miserably with the twins that she had given birth to.

He heard a voice and thought it was familiar.

He advanced toward it, and as he approached, Rapunzel recognized him, and crying, threw her arms around his neck.

Two of her tears fell into his eyes, and they became clear once again, and he could see as well as before. He led her into his kingdom, where he was received with joy, and for a long time they lived happily and satisfied.

Good Reading: "Good Salt" by Ludwig Bechstein (translated into English)

 

Long ago a king had three good and beautiful daughters that he loved dearly, and they loved him. He had no son, but in that kingdom a queen might rule too. The king's wife was dead, so he could choose a daughter to succeed him, and not necessarily the oldest of them.

The time came to pick the coming queen among the three, but since he loved them all alike, he decided to test them in order to find out more of which of them seemed best fit to rule the country after him. He then told his daughters of what he had determined, and that they would be tested on his next birthday. "The one who brings me what cannot be dispensed with, will inherit the throne," he said.

Each of the princesses tried to find out what one cannot be without. And when the birthday came, the oldest daughter came dressed in a fine, purple robe, saying, "After the gates of paradise were closed, some clothing seems been needed."

The second daughter brought fresh bread that she had baked herself, and a gold cup filled with wine. She said, "The most indispensable is food and drink. We can hardly live without fruits and berries, grapes and bread and wine, I should say."

The youngest daughter brought a little pile of salt on a wooden platter, saying, "Salt and wood - we cannot be without it!"

The king was rather surprised at first, then thoughtful, and at last he said: "I may be partial, but the robe of royal purple is what is most necessary in the world, at least for a king. Without it, he looks like other men. Therefore, dear daughter," he said, turning to the eldest one and kissing her, "you have won!"

The king said to the second oldest: "Food and drink is not always necessary, dear. Besides, it is suited for common people too! However, you meant well." He did not kiss her.

Then he turned to the third princess who suspected that her choices were not fully appreciated.

"You have probably got salt on your wooden plate, daughter," said the king, but salt is not necessary! Daughter, your soul is like that of a peasant, not a king's offspring. Get away as far as your feet can carry you - go to the rough folks who think salt is all that needed!"

The youngest daughter turned weeping from her harsh father and went away from the court and from the royal city, far, far away, as far as her feet carried her.

She came to an inn and offered to serve the woman who kept it. The woman was touched by her meekness, innocence, youth and beauty, and hired her as a maid in the house. The princess proved to be very skilful about work in the house. Her hostess said, "It would be too bad if that girl should learn nothing more. I will teach her to cook." So the king's daughter learned to cook and soon she cooked many dishes better than her mistress. The excellent food made the inn well known. A young, beautiful cook was behind the delicious meals there. The reputation of the inn spread through the entire land. Whenever a rich banquet was to be held, the famous cook was called in.

One day the eldest princess was getting married. It was to be a royal wedding. They wanted the renowned cook to take care of the dishes and thereby put a finishing touch to the feast, for not every gentleman at court agreed with the king who had said that to eat and drink was not necessary. What would good feasts be without it? they said, and some added the old proverb that food and drink keep body and soul together.

All kinds of rich dishes were prepared for the wedding feast, and also the dish that the king liked best, and which was ordered specially for the occasion. Everyone praised the food a lot. Lastly, the king's special dish was brought in and offered to him first. But when he tasted it he found it unpleasant to taste and hard to accept. His face darkened, and he said to the first servants that were waiting on him: "This dish is spoiled! Get the cook in here!"

The cook very soon came into the great banquet hall, and the king said angrily to her, "You have spoiled the dish I like best!"

Then the cook said humbly, "Pardon me, but how could I put salt in the food of a king who once said 'Salt is unnecessary; no one needs salt! Salt shows that you have the soul of a peasant.'"

The king remembered that these were his own words, and got ashamed. He also recognised the daughter he had once shooed. He stood up and embraced her. Then he told the tale to all the wedding guests and led his youngest daughter to a seat by his side. The king was happy again, which he had not been since he harshly drove her away. Now the wedding was better than ever.

The king admitted, "Salt can be useful to other than laymen at times, all right," and salted his favourite dish until he got it just the way he liked it.

Good Reading: "The Tailor and the Talking Animals" by Ludwig Bechstein (translated into English)

 

A shoemaker and a tailor were wandering together. The shoemaker had some money; the tailor had none. Both were in love with the same girl, Lizzie, and both had in mind to marry her after he had made enough money for it and had become masters of their crafts. The shoemaker was wicked, while the tailor was good-natured and frivolous.

The tailor had not really want to wander with the shoemaker, since he himself was moneyless, but the shoemaker had said, "Come along with me. I have some money, so we may eat and drink every day, also when we do not get any work."

What the tailor did not know, was that the shoemaker had invited him to wander with him to do something evil against him, for by the way Lizzie looked at the tailor the shoemaker had found out she liked the tailor best. So the tailor had accepted the offer, and both had packed up their knapsacks and set off together.

They wandered for nine days. The tailor was offered work to do several times, but Peter was not. He persuaded the tailor not to accept the work but instead walk on with him. However, after these nine days the shoemaker said to the tailor, "Hans, my money is dwindling. It will still last a while, but from now on we may eat and drink only two times daily."

"Ah, a shortage of food and drink this early!" sighed the tailor. "I should not have come with you. I could have starved at home instead."

The shoemaker had money enough and had his fill of food every day, for when he bought their food, he ate then too, secretly. When he came back to Hans he had two more meals with him, and listened to his companion's complaints of being hungry, and his growling stomack.

Nine more days passed, and they did not find any work during this time. The shoemaker said, ""Hans, from now on there will be food only once a day."

"Oh, oh, Peter," said Hans to the shoemaker, "I am already so thin that I almost barely cast a shadow."

"Buckle your belt a little more!" the shoemaker said laughingly. "See, there is food where we go: berries and roots abound in this season."

Hans ate berries that he knew, but he did not get any stouter. He did not get any work offers any longer either, for master tailors thought that such a bony and thin fellow might not be good enough for their work, and said so in inconsiderate ways too."

The tailor wept when he did not get any work, while the shoemaker secretly took malicious pleasure in it. After nine more days he said, "Hans, There is no more food money for the two of us."

The tailor cried, "Woe that I went out in the world with you! If only you had never persuaded me to come with you, time after time."

The shoemaker said with a grim laugh, "But there is much to drink around us - Water, water!" Water can be healthy when you are thirsty, and I drink water too."

"But water is not food!" the tailor complained.

"Well, I will go to the bakery and for the last money I have got I will buy soemthing for us," said the shoemaker. He left Hans sitting on a stone and went to a bakery, bought four sandwiches, ate three and drank gin along with it. Then he went back to Hans.

"Peter, you smell of booze!" said the tailor to the shoemaker.

"So? Well, here is your half bread."

The starving tailor ate his half with water and then walked on with his secrely plotting companion. They said almost nothing to each other.

Towards evening they walked into a village. The shoemaker went to a bakery, ate his fill and came back to the tailor with a bread in his hand. The tailor thought he would share the bread with him, but the shoemaker shoved it in his pocket.

After a while, when they had left the village and gone into a forest, the tailor asked for his half bread.

"I am not hungry yet," said the shoemaker.

"Not hungry?" cried the tailor and stopped, with legs shaking. "What kind of monster are you?"

"Glutton!" the shoemaker sneered back to him. "You have cost me my very last money!"

"But it was you who persuaded me to go with you, and made me pass by all opportunities for work!" said the tailor with difficulty, for he was very weak and his tongue stuck to the palate.

"You will not get your half for free," said the shoemaker. "That bread in my pocket is as dear to me as two eyes. I will give you half the bread for one of your eyes."

"Goodness graceous!" the tailor could not believe it, and stretched out his hand for half the bread, ate it, and the shoemaker stabbed him in the eye.

The next day the same thing happened. The shoemaker bought a bread and gave the tailor nothing of it until he had promised him his other eye.

"But then I will be blind!" whined the tailor. "Then I can work no more, and cannot even thread a needle."

The wicked Peter said, ""Who is blind sees no evil, nothing false and faithless, and he no longer needs to work, for he is excused. As a rich beggar you can still be rich." The tailor was unable to think clearly because he was near death of starvation, so he got a half bread while the shoemaker made him blind. When that was done, the tailor hoped that at least the shoemaker would guide him. But the other said, "Goodbye, Hans! This is what I wanted to do all along. I can now go back home and marry Lizzie. Take care of yourself."

The shoemaker walked away, while the blinded tailor fainted from weakness, pain and grief. He fell to the ground and lay there unconscious. While he was lying like that three four-footed wayfarers came along the road, a bear, a wolf, and a fox. They sniffed at the unconscious man, and the bear growled, "This man seems dead! I don't care to eat him myself. Do you want him?"

"I ate from a sheep only an hour ago; I'm not hungry just now," said the wolf. "In any case, this fellow is so bony and skinny that he would be as hard on my teeth as a wooden leg!"

"He must have been a tailor, a very lean tailor, poor man!" laughed the fox. "I'd rather eat a fat goose! He can lie there for all I care."

The poor tailor came to himself again and sensed the animals around him and held his breath as best he could. Meanwhile while the three animals lay down in the grass to rest, not far away.

"I see he has been blinded. That is a great misfortune," said the fox, "both for us noble animals and for those who walk about on two legs. If they knew what I know, they would not be blind any longer."

"Oho!" cried the wolf. "I know something too! If the people in the nearby king's city knew it, they would not suffer from drought and thirst , and would not have to pay a gold piece for a small glass of water."

"Hm, hm!" growled the bear. "I know something remarkable too! If you will tell what you two know, I will tell what I know. But we must promise never to give away each others' secrets."

"No, we will not do that!" promised the fox and the wolf, and the fox began to tell, "I know that today is a special night where heavenly dew falls on grass and flowers. Who is blind and bathes his eyes in this dew, will see again."

"That is a wonderful secret," said the wolf, "and here is mine: The wells in the king's city dried up long ago, and the people in it must either die of thirst or leave unless something happens soon. If they only knew they have plenty of water right under their feet! For in the middle of the paving in the market place lies a gray stone; if anyone lifts it up, a spring of water would shoot out of the ground. How glad the people would be to have water again!"

The bear said, "Now hear my secret. The king's only daughter has been sick for seven years and no doctor can help her, for none of them knows what the matter is, wise as they think they are. The king's daughter is so ill that the king has promised to marry her to the man who can heal her. But none can help her, because none else knows what I know!"

"Now you have made us curious!" said the wolf.

The bear growled and said, "Wait a little," and snorted and cleared his throat before he went on, "When the princess was a young girl, she was to throw a piece of gold into the poor box in the church as an offering. But she was young and shy in front of all the people in the church, so she threw the gold piece awkwardly, so that she missed the box and the coin fell into a crack on the floor beneath it. That was when she got her illness, and she will not be well again until the piece of gold is pulled out of the crack and put into the poor box. The cure is simply to go and find the gold piece and let the king's daughter put it into the box."

When the animals had shared these secrets with each other, they got up and went away - the bear went to look for wild honey, and the others went near poulty yards to steal a breakfast if they could.

But the tailor bathed his eyes with the dew that had started to fall, and soon his eyes were as good as new. He felt strangely refreshed, and when night had passed he soon walked further down the road. In some villages he passed through, he got so much food and drink that he felt satisfied, and at last he came to the city where people for the lack of water drank wine and gin instead, even though it was not good for them.

The tailor had no money to by gin for, so he walked into an inn and asked for a large glass of water. The landlady looked at him and said, "If you do not have money enough to gin and wine, you do not have money for water either, for it costs much more around here; it would cost a fortune, really. There is so little water in the city that I do not have anything of it to sell or give away."

"Is it really that dry around here?" asked the tailor. "But I know how to let fresh water well up. Call me a fountain doctor."

Some young nobles in the inn heard him say that. In their extreme need they were drinking champagne and brandy, and hoped to get better things to drink instead. They flocked around the tailor and asked quickly if he could give the city a fountain.

"Yes, I could if I would," said he, "but not for nothing. What I ask for in return is a salary of five or six thousand gold pieces a year, for example."

The town council hastened to consider the tailor's offer, and all the members voted for paying the tailor what he asked for. The head of the counsil was then sent to the king, asking him to make a decree that made the tailor the city's "fountain doctor", his salary paid by the city. The king agreed, but with the reservation that there had to be plenty of water coming if the well doctor was to get a salary.

The tailor now walked to the market and pointed to a grey, square stone in the pavement in the middle of the market. To the officials around him he said, "Gentlemen, let people tdig up that stone!"

As soon as they did, a jet of water sprang high into the air while the onlookers shouted and cried for joy. The same day the king called for the tailor and was very friendly, made him one of his royal advisers. During the reception someone mentioned the disease of the king's daughter, and the king asked his new adviser, "Do you think this sort of welling water have any effect on her disease?"

"Oh no, sire!" answered the 'fountain doctor'. "It is not water than will cure her. But if you will allow me to see her, I may perhaps find out why she is ill."

The king took his new adviser with him to the princess. She was very beautiful. The advisor felt her pulse, and then said, "Sire, if you will permit us to carry her to church, I think she can be healed."

The king welcomed the idea. "It is worth a try," he said.

In the church Sir Hans - the former tailor - was shown the offering box and then looked for and found a crack with a gold piece in it. He gave the gold piece to the princess and asked her to put in the poor box. She did, and at once got well again. Then they went back to the castle and made her father very happy.

The king's new adviser soon became chief minister, and then a count, a prince, and the princess's beloved husband.

After the wedding, the newly married couple went on a journey through the country. They came to the village that Hans once set out from when he was a moneyless tailor. A grinder stood beside the village inn. He was sharpening knives while his wife turned the grindstone for him. It was Peter and Lisa. At first she had not wanted to marry Peter when he returned, but she accepted him in the end, as he swore she would never see Hans again.

Hans recognized them at once, and called out to the coachman to stop. "Peter!" he said.

Peter started and hurried forward, asking what the prince wanted.

"I just want you to recognise what has become of me after you felled me in the woods. I lay under a tree when we parted, all alone and blind. But as I lay there, good fortune came my way, and now I can see again, I have got rich, and now I leave you! Have this purse of money in return for feeding me. Drive on, coachman!"

Peter stood as if he had become lame and stared after the fine-looking coach for some time. Then he gave the money to his wife saying, "That was Hans! I will go and seek my own fortune where he found his."

Off he went as fast as he could go to the place where he had blinded and left the starving Hans. A fox was running ahead of him and stopped at just that spot. Then a wolf came bounding too. Peter turned quickly and saw a bear who was trotting toward him. Peter hastily climbed a tree.

"Traitors! Traitors! Traitors!" barked the fox, and howled the wolf, and growled the bear. They accused each other of telling the secrets they had promised to keep. They grew very angry. In the end the bear and fox sided together against the wolf. They said he was the traitor, so he must be hanged. The fox twisted a rope out of fir twigs and tied a noose in it. The bear held the wolf fast and the fox put the noose around the wolf's neck. But as the wolf was pulled up in the air, he looked up and saw Peter sitting on a branch of the tree. "There is a man in the tree! He could have told our secrets!" he howled.

Now the two other animals looked up and let the wolf fall to the ground. "Let us interrrogate him!" they howled and grunted.

The bear climbed the tree, and with a blow from his forepaw he knocked Peter from the branch. He fell badly and died on the spot.