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.

Good Reading: "The Herd of Golden Sheep" by Ludwig Bechstein (translated into English)

 

There was once a beautiful girl called Ilsa. She was the only daughter of a rough knight. She loved the woods with their bird songs, flower scents and trickling streams. Happily she used to stroll there, either with her old nurse, who had taken care of Ilsa after her mother's early death, or Ilsa strolled around on her own. She was not afraid, for the woods around her father's castle were quite safe, and she had not been in danger there at all.

One day Ilsa walked alone in the green groves that surrounded her father's castle. There were old trees and rocks covered with ferns, rare plants and flowers, and among the rocks on a hilltop she came across a cave she did not remember was there earlier. From inside the cave sounded a melodic hum, as from a wind harp. The sound lured Ilsa to go deeper and deeper within. Soon the cave became narrower and darker. But just where the passage was at its narrowest and darkest, she saw a stream of soft light and many sparkling lights around it. She did not resist pushing toward the light, squeezed through the cleft in the rock and to her amazement she was in a quite a very different world.

The sounds of the wind harp swelled louder, the light became brighter, and she saw flowers made of precious, sparkling stones with emerald leaves. A great many small creatures were playing in a meadow there. They were no more than two feet tall. Ilsa was soon surrounded by a crowd of them. They welcomed her in a friendly way.

"Who are you?" asked Ilsa amazed. "I have never seen you or heard of you before!"

"We are the mountain people; the little people!" answered one the with fine shrill little voice that sounded quite like cricket chirping. "It is not surprising that you do not know us, for our cave is not open every day. And on the days it is open it is only for a little time that humans may see us."

"I have never heard of the mountain people or the little people," said Ilsa, standing as if in a dream.

"Learn to know us, and you will love us!" replied the little man. "And if you do you will become one of us, perhaps even our queen!"

Queen! The word thrilled the girl's heart. She had heard of queens in her father's castle; she had heard they were rich and beautiful too, and that everyone served and obeyed them. Her nurse had told her many stories about queens. Why not become a queen?

She looked around. All the splendour and wealth blinded her with delight. She let her new friends show her around. The light in their world was mellow, and not as bright as sunlight. The music was wonderful and blended with the murmur of brooks and waterfalls in the distance. Ilso throught the friendly little people would make good playmates; she could play wonderful games with them. She wanted to stay in this realm. There was little to draw her back to the upper world. Her father was a rough, fierce knight who had never taken much notice of her, and her nurse no longer had any hold on the young girl's heart. Besides, the nurse was very old, and could not live much longer. When she died, Ilsa would be alone in her father's castle, for it was avoided by most people.

The little people went on whispering enticing and luring words, "Stay with us, and you will never grow old. Then your life becomes like a sunny spring. Each day will be a celebration day. You will have what you wish for, and the best of everything!"

Ilsa now saw a flock of sheep that were not bigger than lambs, but each of them had a golden fleece, and the lively little dog who jumped round the flock had golden hair. Ilsa did not see any shepherd, but there was a golden shepherd's staff lying on the ground.

Ilsa longed to keep this flock of sheep. Thinking that this was a chance to test the little people's good faith, she said to test them, "If I were to stay with you and ask for this golden flock to be mine to herd and care for, would you give it to me?"

"Yes, yes!" said a chorus of delicate little voices, and the only condition was that Ilsa should not enter the world of humans again, and that she lost none of the dwarf sheep. Then they handed her the golden staff, decorated it with silver ribbons and welcomed her into their kingdom with loud cheers.

Ilsa now stayed in the other world without noticing days and years that passed by. There was neither winter nor spring there; all the seasons were similar.

At home in the castle they missed her and searched for her, but when they did not find her, they thought she was dead and mourned her. Then her nurse died and her father was killed in a fewd, his enemies ravaged and destroyed his castle till it only its lonely ruin was left on the mountain peak it had been built on. The old trees were cut down and new ones planted in their stead. A new forest was greening, and the tree stems were already fairly strong.

And Ilsa was forgotten. She still guarded her golden herd, playing with the childlike litte people, and learned many of nature's and the other world's secrets from them. Greadually the memories of the world she had lived in earlier, faded till they were like dreams, but they did not fade away entirely. They even grew stronger, and she started to long for being in the world of humans again.

She often noticed one or another of the little people setting off for the human world, while she herself was strictly forbidden to return. It made her see she was not really free. The insight damaged her innocent gladness. "What good does my flock do me, after all?" Ilsa thought. "I herd and care for it, but I cannot do with it what I will, since it is not really mine. I would be a queen, and was promised I could be theirs, but I am just the opposite: I have become a poor shepherdess. Oh, to get up into the sunlight, seeing the blue sky, smelling the air of spring, flowers, large trees! I want to see the sky again - I will, I will!"

Ilsa told the little people that she wanted to go to the human world again.

"But you promised us always to stay with us!"

"You promised to fulfill all my wishes,"protested Ilsa.

"That was on condition that you do not go back to the world of men," said the little people.

"I do not want to return for ever," said Ilsa, "but to see the sky and feel the wind of spring."

"Then you will not be not one of us any more," the little people told her. "If you feel the breeze of that world, you become human again, wither, get old and die, for that is the ordinary human lot."

Ilsa said no more, but she mourned, and her longing grew stronger and stronger. She neglected her flock of golden sheep, nothing pleased her and she did not talk with the little people any longer.

"She is lost to us one way or the other," they said sadly to each other, "we might as well grant her wish."

Ilsa returned to the sunlight through the same hilltop cave. She paused at the mouth of the cave and gazed at woods and hills. It was a beautiful, sunny day, but there was something strange about the scenery. She recognised the hills and mountains, but the old forests were gone. The path from the cave to her father's castle was too overgrown. Ilsa looked for her father's castle on its ridge, but all she could see was a part of its enclosing wall, and the watchtower had become a ruin. Over the tower a couple of falcons were soaring, and owls had settled in the broken spire. "Well, well," Ilsa thought. "I thought I stayed with the good people for only for a very short time, and obviously many years have passed! How old am I?"

Ilsa looked some more and saw newly built places, new castles in the distance, and could not see some other castles that she remembered on some of the hills. They were no more.

Ilsa did not go further, but stayed in the cave for many days, serious and thoughtful. She had promised the little people not to go further than the cave, in the same. She had been allowed to let her sheep graze in the fields of the human world on special days and hourse, such as Midsummer Day at noon, when the sun was at its highest, or in the midnight hours. Around Midsummer Day some of the humans who lived in the area, walked in the mountain heights in search of medicinal herbs and potent roots. At times they happened to see Ilsa in the mouth of the cave. She had become a stranger to the people, a pale, quiet and sombre lady in snow-white, ever-new dress. Some people also saw her herd of golden, tiny sheep, but were never able to catch any of them, for the golden-haired dog was always vigilant, and if he made the slightest sound, Ilsa lifter her golden shepherd's staff, and at once the dog and the sheep disappeared from sight.

If good and pure people saw Ilsa and ventured near her, she answered their sincere questions. At times her answers had double meanings, at times she foretold what would come to pass later. And all the time Ilsa hoped to be saved from the spell of the dwarves.

One day as Ilsa was sitting as usual in the mouth of the cave and let her sheep graze in front of it, a pretty woman came to the grassy field below the entrance of the cave and called, "Why are you always by yourself in this cave? Why not mingle and share with local people? Why not love and be loved?" Ilsa said mournfully, "I am bound by a promise I gave. Otherwise I would like to go down into the valley with my herd."

"You can do it!" cried the woman. "Strike with your shepherd's staff against the little hole deep in your cave, and it will collapse. Then the dwarves cannot come out, and you will be free."

Ilsa hesitated, "Is this advice the answer to my prayer?" As she sought to discern what would be the proper thing to do, a handsome youth showed up and said to her: "Trust me, and I will rebuild your father's castle. You and I will reign over this beautiful countryside together. The woman you have been speaking with is my mother, and we are mighty." Ilsa did not understand the woman and her son were witches, and struck with the golden shepherd's staff against the rocks around the hole at the back of the cave, as the woman had told her to. The gentle music from deep within stopped: Only the weeping and wailing of the little people could be heard. They were cheated, and had lost their flock of tiny, golden sheep! The witch yelled triumphantly, and her son suddently came forward and tried to take Ilsa into his arms. Ilsa was not used to that sort of behaviour. Scared and bewildered she held out her staff and traced a cross on the young man. At that instant the magic of the witch and her son was broken. The young man suddenly turned ugly and repulsive, and the woman fell to the ground in a fit, and was changed into an ugly, old witch.

When she rose, she ran past to Ilsa to the bottom of her cave and placed a herb there. The herb grew extremely fast, became bigger and bigger and opened the hole again by pushing the gravel into the other side. When the gap was big enough the witch shouted, "Dwarves, come out and take back your flock of sheep and punish the girl for closing the entrance!"

The little people came swarming out and surrounded Ilsa. They cut her off from the woman and her son.

"That was a bad thing you did," said the eldest of the ever-young little people. "It is perhaps best that you remain ours until this hag and her son are dead."

And then they tied Ilsa with magic chains. She was still free to go out into the cave, but there the chains stopped her from going further. So it was for some time, until one day the chains suddenly fell off her. The old witch and her son must be dead, said Ilsa hopefully to herself. Now she was free to walk in the sun and sing happy songs as she liked, but she could not bring with her the golden sheep and dog.

Good Reading: "The Boy Who Wanted to Learn Witchcraft" by Ludwig Bechstein (translated into English)

 

There was once a boy who had heard so much about witchcraft that he wanted to learn it. But those he asked about it said they did not know it and did not want to know it either. The boy went alone into a dark forest and called out loud several times, "Who will teach me the craft of witches?" An echo sounded back from deep within the forest, "Witches . . . witches."

After a while came an old, little woman crawling through the bushes. She had not one tooth left in her mouth, and her eyes were awfully red. Her back was bent, her hair was white and in tangles that moved friskly in the wind. Her voice sounded like the white bird that cries, "Come, come!" And that was just what she said as she beckoned him to follow her and learn witchcraft.

The boy followed, and she led him deeper and deeper into the forest. At last they came to a marshy bog where there were alder trees and a ramshacle old cottage. The cottage walls were made of peat, with moss pressed into the space between some of pieces of peat. The roof was thatched with reeds. Inside the cottage was a pretty young girl, Liz. The old woman did not say whether it was her daughter or her granddaughter or who she was. There were three large toads there too. In the cauldron that hung over the hearth was a dark broth with meat bones from a hare or something in it.

The woman put one of the toads outside the door to keep watch. The second toad was sent up in the attic to prepare a bed for the boy, the third toad was placed on the table to give light. This toad did its best, but although its green eyes glowed somewhat, it was less than the light of a glowworm.

Then the old woman and Liz ate their supper out of the cauldron, and offered some of the broth to the boy, but he could not touch it. He excused himself and said he was very tired and needed to sleep, so the old woman told him a straw bed was ready for him upstairs. He soon fell asleep on the bed, thinking that next morning he would start learning witchcraft, and that it would be very nice if Liz would give him lessons.

But downstairs the old witch whispered to the girl: "Another prisoner - Wake me up very early tomorrow morning, before the sun rises, for then we will deal with him further, all the way to the pot of broth."

Now they both went to bed, but Liz could not sleep, for she felt so sorry for the handsome boy that the witch wanted to kill while he was asleep. She got up from her bed and stood beside his, gazing at him. He looked like a sleeping angel. Liz detested that she had to serve the old witch who had stolen her from her parents long ago, when she was a little child. The witch had carried her off into the forest. There Liz had learned witchcraft, she too, so she knew how to fly through the air; become invisible; and change her shape as she wanted.

As she stood beside his bed and looked at him, she came to feel so deeply for him that she wanted to save him from the old witch if she could. So she woke him gently, and whispered, "Get up, dear, and follow me! Only death is in store for you here!"

"Won't I learn witchcraft here?" asked the boy, Fredrick.

"It would be better for you never to learn it," answered Liz. "In any case, you do not have time for it here andnow. Escape as fast as you can, and I will come along with you!"

"With you I will do it," said the boy, "I do not want to stay with the nasty old woman and the three toads."

"Come, then!" said Liz and quietly opened the cottage door after she had checked that the old woman was asleep. It was in the middle of the night, and some hours until early morning. While the old witch was asleep, Liz and Fredrick could slip away unnoticed. As Liz walked over the threshold she spat on it for some reason, and then they both ran away.

When they opened and closed the door to the cottage, the door made a little noise. The old woman woke up and called, "Liz! Get up! I think it will be day soon!"

Liz had put a spell on the spittle on the threshold, and the spittle answered the witch, "I'm up already!"

The old woman laid down again, as the fleeing couple hurried away from the cottage as fast as their legs could carry them. But the old woman could not go to sleep again, and some time later she called again, "Liz, is the fire on the hearth burning?"

The spittle on the threshold answered, "No. I have not blown up the fire."

The old woman stayed in bed a little longer while the boy and girl ran farther and farther away from the hut. Meanwhile the sun rose, and the old woman who had dozed off at that time, woke up and got out of bed, calling for Liz, "The sun is rising and you never woke me! Where are you?"

The witch got no answer, for by this time the sun had dried the spittle on the threshold. The witch hurried to find her, first inside the house and then outside. The boy was gone and Liz was gone also. The cottage was not swept and there was no wood burning on the hearth. The old woman got angry, grasped a broomstick and ran out of the house. Well outside, she struck at the door with the broomstick, and the house became invisible. And when she stepped on a puffball, a cloud of spores rose. Then she sat down on her broomstick and travelled through the air in that cloud. From above she could see the footprints of the fleeing couple, and speeded in their direction.

But Liz kept looking around and behind her shoulders, for she knew what the old witch was capable of doing. She said to Fredrick: "Do you see that brown cloud high in the sky behind us? It is the witch. Now it is no use running further, for she will catch up with us soon. I will have to try to outwit her. I will change into a sloe, and you will be a berry on the bush." In the wink of an eye Liz was a sloe with many berries, and the berry furthest down on the bush ws Fredrick.

The flying got thirsty, and when she saw the sloe she said to herself, "The air is so dry today. But here is a fine sloe! I will fly down to it and have some berries!" This she did. She plucked one berry after another until just one berry was left, and that berry was Fredrick. The old woman reached for the last berry many times, but there were so many thorns around it, and they pricked her thin fingers. She did not give up anyway.

But while she kept groping for the last berry among the thorns, it fell off and rolled downwards in the grass. Suddenly the sloe bush changed into a lake and the berre fell into the lake and became a duck. It was all through the magic that Liz had learned from the old woman. Then the old witch threw one of her slippers up in the air, and the slipper changed into a bird of prey that swooped down on the duck. But the duck dived quickly, and as soon as the beak of the bird of prey touched the water, it was hit by a wave that suddenly rose, dragged it down into the deep and drowned it. And then the duck came up again to the surface water-

The furious witch threw her second slipper into the water, and this slipper turned into a crocodile that swam after the duck to eat him. In response the duck flew into the air and settled again in another place in the lake, but the water around the crocodile's jaws turned into stone, so that the crocodile became too heavy to swim, sank and drowned too.

Now the old witch lay down at the water's edge. She wanted to drink up the water, for without it, the duck would not have a chance to escape but turn into a boy again. But the water the old woman drank turned to fire inside her, and she burst with a loud clap.

The duck changed into a boy again, and the fire turned back into Liz. They walked hand in hand to the house where the boy lived, and stayed there until they were grown up. Then they got married and lived happily together.

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

There once was a butcher's widow with an only son. He had already begun to learn his father's trade when the butcher died. His mother let him finish his apprenticeship and said, "Now you are fully educated in your father's craft, but not yet a master butcher: First you are to go on a three-year working trip. After your journeyman years you may be admitted to a guild as a master. So 'first an apprentice, then a journeyman, and at last a master' - that is how your father became a butcher. And now the time has come for you to go travelling! Good luck!"

The son was to travel for three years and see the world and maybe find someone to teach him more he could use. The mother fitted out her son as well as she could and gave him her best dog, Grip, to go with him.

On his way the journeyman came to a large and dense forest. Robbers lived there. They fell on him to rob and even kill him, but the young man defended himself vigorously, and his dog stood by him bravely and wounded many of the robbers with angry bites until one of the robbers got so angry that he shot the faithful dog.

The journeyman escaped from the robbers and ran deeper into the large forest. There he got lost and did not know where he was. At last he saw a small house ahead of him. He hurried to it, knocked on the door, and went in. An old, grey woman was sitting there. She did not move a bit when he came in. All the same the young man began to tell her all that had happened to him and asked her to show him the way out of this forest. He loudly bewailed the loss of his dog Grip too.

Then said the old grey woman, " I too have good dogs too. You may pick one and take it with you." She shouted, "Rend-and-tear!"

A big dog came into the house at her call. The old woman asked: "Do you like this dog?"

"The dog looks good," said the fellow, "but mine was better."

Then the old woman called again, "Break-all-ties!" A bigger and better dog came in, and the old woman asked, "How do you like this one?"

"I like him quite well," answered the journeyman, "but still I liked my own dog better."

Then the old woman called again, "Fast-and-swift!" and in jumped a very big, bold and shapely dog. The journeyman did not wait for the old woman to ask him how he liked the dog, but exclaimed straight away, "I like this one! My own dog looked so like it that unless it had been shot dead in front of me I could have said it was the same dog!"

"Well," said the old woman, "I will give you all the three dogs if you will remember me when things go well with you, and if you will not be ashamed of me in my poverty then."

The lad promised this, and the old woman took out a little whistle and gave it to him, saying, "When you blow this whistle you call the three dogs to your aid at any time, from wherever they happen to be at the time. That can be useful if you get into trouble."

With many thanks the journeyman took leave of the good old woman and walked merrily along a path she had told him of. The three dogs rushed and leaped about, now behind him and now ahead of him, playing with each other. The young man amused himself over them.

As the evening began to get dark, the traveller and his dogs came to a soliary inn in the same wide forest. Outside the house a young maid was scrubbing wooden dishes. When she saw him she looked frightened and waved him away as if to warn him against entering the inn. She opened her mouth to say something too, but just then the door opened and the landlord came out and invited the guest and his dogs inside. After some talk he told he was a butcher, he too.

The young man was reluctant, for he felt suspicious even though he could not say why. But hungry and thirsty as he was, with the night coming on, he sat down in the living-room with his three dogs around him, and ordered something to eat. He did not have to wait long for a large piece of meat in a rich broth, and good bread with it.

The journeyman had his meal while the landlord was sitting on an bench in front of the oven and ensured that the meal tasted his only guest well, for there were no one else in the house that the journeyman could see, and there was time for that.

The door opened, and the landlady came in with a plate with three pieces of bread soaked in fat. The landlady came up to the journeyman, and he thanked her politely for the food.

"Now show him his bedroom!" said the landlady to her husband, and gave her husband a light to carry in the hand. The host opened the door to a room next to the sitting-room and walked ahead of the others, carrying the light. The landlady came last. She was still carrying the three fat breads, and threw one bread to the dogs behind her. One of the dogs grabbed it, but while he ate it the woman slammed the door and the dog was locked in.

They came into a room that was full of weapons, rifles, pistols, carbines, broadswords, cutlasses, etc., besides also chains, ropes, handcuffs and such things hung over, thus making the people defenseless.

"There are many weapons," said the surprised guest.

"Yes, for one has to be on guard and prepared for much in this solitary spot in the forest. I have people who know how to use these weapons."

The host opened a second door while he talked, and walked into another room. Behind the guest the landlady threw another bread on the floor. Another dog started to eat it, but meanwhile the woman slammed the door behind her, and the dog was locked up in the armory.

The young guest did not notice what happened, for he was already in the the other room, and saw there were barrels of money there, and on the walls hang costly garments and in glass cabinets he glimpsed jewelry, gold, silver gemstones. "How can all these things be in a solitary forest inn?" the journeyman started to wonder.

The host now opened up a third room, and when he and the journeyman went in there, the landlady threw the third fat bread on the floor in the room they had left, and when the third dog at it, she hurried and locked the door. Thus the second dog was trapped in the treasury, and his master did not know it, for he was curious to see what the hosts had in the third room, but that room did not appeal very much to him.. The walls were stained with blood, and on the floor were dead, mangled people lying around.

The innkeeper said harshly. "Here is the workshop I run. Stay with me, or you will be slaughtered like the others here."

The journeyman took courage and said, "I would rather die than be such a butcher!"

"It's up to you!" said the landlord.

The fellow was troubled and scared, and looked around for his three dogs, but saw none of them. He was alone and helpless.

His host picked up a heavy axe.

The workman said, "Let me say a little prayer."

"All right!" said the host.

The journeyman started to pray, but while he did so, he happened to touch the whistle he had got, and whistled boldly for the three dogs.

The host and hostess were grealy astonished. "Is this a way to pray, lad?" cried the host angriy, but before he could strike with the axe the three dogs came running through the closed door and tore him to pieces.

"Well done!" said the journeyman to them.

The landlady fell on her knees and cried, "Praise God! Now I am saved!" "No, you are not," shouted the journeyman angrily. "You have been in on this!"

"O, mercy!" cried the landlady. "I was forced to do as the butcher wanted. He once caught me and has kept me here since. If you let me live I will give you a snuff box of gold."

"I do not take snuff!" said the journeyman.

"You do not have to either," said the landlady. "But if anyone takes snuff out of this box and you rotate the cover to the right, she or he cannot but stand, lie or sit without moving till you turn the cover to the left again. Let me live, for you are still not out of danger. I am the only one who know where my husband's cronies are. It is a whole gang of robbers and murderers."

"Well, tell me and I will let you live," said the youth.

The landlady and her servants thanked him for freeing them from the horrible butche and showed the journeyman the entrance to the secret hideout of the gang of murderers. The journeyman let his three dogs in, and after a while they came out again and there were no robbers left.

The young butcher now gave some of the treasures to the the formerly enslaved servants, especially the good-natured girl who tried to warn him when he first came to the inn. He also sent a man with a load of treasures to the old, grey woman who had given him her three dogs and the whistle; another load to his mother at home; and then he went on his way with the three dogs: Although he had riches enough now, he had promised his mother to walk about for three years, see the world, and maybe learn how to be a better butcher too.

One day the journeyman met a carriage that was all black, the coachman was in black and the horses too. The journeyman stopped, and suddenly the carriage stopped too, and a princess dressed in black came out of the carriage. She said, "My father has promised me to a devil. He has brought famine on the country, and will end it only if I marry him. My father was forced to agree to this. Since then, all my servants have deserted me. What is more, I fear the coachman is in leage with the devil."

The journeyman said, "If so, allow me to go with you as your servant! I hope to be able to save you from that devil."

The princess was glad that the youth would stay with her, and accepted his offer. The journeyman climbed into the carriage. After some time they came to a tree stump where an ugly fellow was sitting. It was the devil, and he had been waiting there a long time. It surprised him that the princess did not come alone. The young man went up to the devil and explained that he was the servant of the princess, and offered the devil a pinch of snuff from his golden box. The devil put his fingers into the box and took a large pinch.

"There," said the journeyman and pulled the lid of his golden snuff-box to the right and snapped his fingers. "You are now stuck fast as long as I like."

"You fool!" cried the devil and wanted to jump up. But he was powerless and had to sit there as if glued to the stub.

"How long is this going to last?" asked the devil and was furious.

The journeyman answered, "It will help you if you freely give me this princess, renounce any rights to her, to our souls, and vow never again to cause inconveniences, troubles and famines in this land. It must all be put in writing and signed by you. After that I will not see you again."

The devil groaned and screeched, sweated and writhed, but it did not help him at all. At last he agreeed to the deal and signed. The young man stepped back a bit, and then turned the lid of the snuff-box to the left. In a thrice the devil flew into the air and flew away like a roaring storm.

The princess and the journeyman got back into her carriage, and the princess was so grateful that she said, "I want to marry you for saving me!"

"Yes, yes," answered the young man, "but I want to wait a while, for I have to wander in the world and learn something useful first. I promised my mother to do it. But in a few years I will be back, if you want me to."

The princess reluctantly had to make do with that. Soon they were on their way back toward her father's castle.

When they came to a crossroads, the journeyman left the carriage, kissed her hand and said, "We are engaged to be married! Trust your bridegroom-to-be!"

The coachman had heard everything. He was a bad fellow and wanted to become the new king himself. After a little stopped the carriage and said to the princess, "I want to marry too! Marry you! So tell your father at home that I was the one who saved you, and marry me! If you do not say yes, I will not drive you home, but to the devil."

The princess sobbed and wept, but finally gave in. Then she was taken home. People rejoiced when she returned and thought the coachman had saved her and that she now would marry him out of gratitude. But the princess regularly postponed the marriage. One time she ruined her wedding dresses, another time she fell ill, a third times he had religious vows to fulfil, a fourth time she was waiting for jewelry to be sent her - and all the while she was hoping her true bridegroom would come.

The coachman, however, grew more and more impatient, and at long last a wedding-day was set. The princess sighed and wept much the night before the wedding-day, for she did not know that her true bridegroom at last had come with his three dogs. He stayed at an inn where the host at first would not welcome him, for he looked like a vagabond. But when the journeyman gave him a gold piece, he was - eh - good enough.

Soon a barber and a tailor were called for. The stranger shaved himself clean and was carefully groomed and dressed up in neat, warm, good clothes. He sat down and wrote a letter to the princess, sealed it and let his faithful dog Fast-and-swift take it to the princess. The dog speeded off and dropped the letter in the lap of the princess as she was sitting by the table, eating. The others in the room were scared of the large dog, but the princess recognised him, and so did the false bridegroom. He thought, "If that dog is here, the owner is near." Then he quietly left the castle, the city and the country, for he thought it was best for him.

The next morning a royal carriage stopped outside the inn. The princess had sent a servant to say she would be happy to meet her real bridegroom. The stranger was carried to the castle in the carriage, with his three dogs running beside it.

As soon as the princess told the king who had saved her, and who had threatened to take her to the devil again, he liked the real bridgegroom better than the false one. The wedding was stately, and the bride and bridegroom were happy.

Soon after the bridegroom sent a carriage filled with gold to the old woman in the forest, and sent for his old mother to come and live with him.

Good Reading: "The Dwarf's Cap" by Ludwig Bechstein (translated into English)

There was once a miller who had three sons and a daughter. He loved his daughter dearly, but could not stand his sons. He was always unhappy with them and made their lives miserable by repeating that they could never do anything right. The greatly distressed brothers wanted to get away from their father's house, but all they could do was to sit together and sigh without knowing what to do.

One day, when the three brothers were sitting together like that, one of them sighed, "Oh, if only we had a dwarf's cap each! Then we could be well off!"

"A dwarf's cap? What's that?" asked one of his brothers.

"The dwarves who live in the green mountains have little caps. People sometimes call them mist caps. Those who wear the caps, become invisible. And that is a fing thing, dear brothers, for then you can avoid people who never care for you or talk nicely to you. You can go wherever you want, take what you want, and no one sees you as long as you wear the dwarf's cap."

"But how do we get such a rare little cap?" asked the third and youngest of the brothers.

The eldest brother answered, "The dwarves are quaint little people. They like to play, and sometimes they throw their little caps into the air for fun. In a flash you can see them - and in a flash they catch their little caps and put them back on their heads and are invisible again. What you have to do is to find a dwarf and catch his cap when he throws it into the air. Then the dwarf cannot make himself invisible and you can catch him. If you do, you will be the master of the dwarves, and can keep the little cap to make yourself invisible.

"There is still more: You may ask the dwarves to pay you to get the cap back. With what you get you may live well for the rest of your life, for the dwarves find metals in the earth, make secret remedies from plants and things in nature. They are so clever than that can make a fool a wise person; a lazy student a professor; and a lawyer's clerk a minister."

"That was something!" cried one of the brothers. "Go and get a little cap for us so we can get away from here!"

"I will," said the eldest brother. Soon he was on his way to the green mountains. It was a long way off. Before evening the boy came to the dwarf mountains. There he lay down in the green grass in a place where there were swirl marks in the grass, for he thought they were traces of dwarves dancing in the moonlight. After a while he saw quite a few dwarfs coming very near him. They were tumbling over each other and throwing little cap into the air and having fun. Soon a small cap fell beside him. He grasped for it but was not quick enough. The owner of the cap was quicker and got his cap back, shouting, "A thief! A thief!"

The call made the whole flock of dwarves throw themselves over the boy. He was unable to shake them off. The dwarves captured him and took him deep down into their underground dwellings.

When the eldest brother did not come back, his two younger brothers and sister all grieved, but the old miller gnarled, "What do I care!"

As the days passed and the boy did not come back, the father was all the more grumpy and hard with the two remaining brothers. The second brother said to the youngest, "If I go the the dwarf mountains I may get a dwarf's cap. Either our brother has got one and gone away to make his fortune, forgetting about us - or he has failed. In any case I will try to get a dwarf's cap! If I succeed I will certainly be back. In case I do not succeed, this may be our last farewell."

The brothers parted, and the second brother wandered to the green mountains. Everything that had happened to his brother there, happened to him. The dwarf he tried to snatch a cap from, was quicker than him and shouted "Thief! Thief!" At once a bunch of dwarves pounced on the boy and tied him so he could not move a limb. Then they took him deep into an underground dwelling-place.

At home in the mill the youngest brother waited for his brother to come back, but in vain. By and by he grew very sad, for he knew now that his middle brother had failed. His sister grieved too, but their father said, "Those who don't like it at home can go elsewhere - the world is wide. Let him run. I am glad he is out of sight, out of mind!"

The youngest brother had endured very much gruff treatment from his father, but before his two older brothers were gone, they had at least been three to share it. He said to his sister, "Dear sister, I do not think I can stand our father's language and degrading remarks any longer, now that I am only one to bear his abuses. They are a too heavy load to bear alone. Earlier we were at least three to share it. Father does not love me, and I cannot help it. So I will go away, and only if I succeed I will be back. Goodbye and good luck!"

The sister did not want her youngest brother to leave, for she loved him best of all, but all the same he left.

As he walked, he thought carefully over how to set about getting one of the dwarfs' caps. When he came to the green mountains, he too came across the rings in the grass and thought, "These show where the dwarfs play and dance at night." He lay down at dusk and waited till the dwarfs came, played, and threw their caps into the air.

One of the dwarves came quite close to him and threw his little cap into the air, but the clever boy did not reach for it. He thought, "I have plenty of time. I must make the little man come nearer to me."

The dwarf picked up again his little cap that had fallen down very close to the boy. It did not take long before a second small cap fell next to the boy, but still he did not reach for it. Finally a third cap came falling down - it even landed on his hand. In the wink of an eye he grasped it and quickly jumped up.

"Thief!" screamed the dwarf who owned the cap. A swarm of dwarves came to get it back, but before they got to the boy he had made himself invisible, and then, since he had the little cap, he was their master, and the dwarves could neither get him or harm him. They all started to wail and whine pitifully for the cap, He could get anyting he wanted for it, they promised.

"Where are my two brothers?" asked the boy.

"They are down in the green mountain!" answered the dwarf that owned the cap he had taken.

"And what are they doing down there?"

"They serve us!"

"Is that so! They serve you, and now you serve me. Take me down to my brothers; their service is over, and yours is about to begin!"

He had a cap, and had become their master! The grieving dwarves took him to an opening into the green mountain. Down below were glorious and large open spaces, large halls and small rooms and shelves, all formed to meet the needs of the dwarf people. The boy's brothers were brought to him. They exclaimed as soon as they saw him, "Have they got you too, dear brother? So we three are together again, but to toil deep in the mountains and never see the light of day again, the green forest and the golden fields!" the two brothers sobbed.

"Oh, just wait a little, dear brothers," said the youngest, "the tides are about to turn." Then he had the dwarves bring them good clothes, good food and milk, after they had been groomed. Afterwards the dwarves had to entertain them with song and play and ballet and pantomime, and then the brothers went to sleep in soft beds. The youngest brother held the cap firmly all the time, even in sleep.

When they woke up, the underground palace was lighted by many candles. The brothers got a glass carriage drawn by four horses, and drove to see what more was to be seen in the green mountains. Soon they came to gemstone caves silver and gold decor, splendor and glory.

Then it was time to strike a bargain with the dwarves. What to ask for instead of the cap? First, delicious herbs to heal their father's mind, if possible. Second, a good dowry for their dear sister. Third, enough precious stones and art devices to lighten their lives, and then a car full of money and another, comfortable car for the brothers, along with lessons in driving them.

The dwarves turned and writhed so pitifully that it could have made a stone pity them if a stone had a human heart, but it did not help them.

"If you do not want to give us these things," said the brother with the cap, "I may stay here and take all your caps. Then we will see what will happen. I may also gather toads and put them in your beds."

"Have mercy! Not toads!" The dwarves feared toads terribly.

"Now then," said the brother with the cap, "I did not ask for all you have, only a tiny, tiny bit. I could ask for more too and keep the cap, being your master continually, for by wearing the cap I would not die, you know. So will you give me the things I ask for from your bounty?"

"Yes, yes!" sighed and groaned the dwarves and went to work to make and get everything he had asked for.

In the meantime things were going poorly in the mill of the surly old miller. After the youngest brother had left, he grumbled, "He's off too! That is what you get when you raise children! The only ones left now are you and me, dear daughter."

She began to cry.

"Crying again!" grumbled the old man. "Do you want me to believe you are crying over your brothers? I rather think it is over the poor man you love and want to marry. But he has nothing, like an empty sack. He has nothing much, you have nothing much, and I have nothing much. We all three have nothing much. For can you hear the mill wheel turning? I can not hear anything. It stands still. The mill who is still, is a bad mill. I cannot grind, you cannot marry, and you cannot have a wedding, for that would have been a beggar's wedding."

The daughter had to listen to such speeches every day, and suffered in silence until one fine morning when three carriages came up to the mill and three finely dressed fellows stepped out. The miller and his daughter came out and stared at them.

"Good morning, good morning! Here we are again!" said the three brothers. The oldest handed a big cup of precious liquid to their old father, and he drank it. Then he cried and fell - his financial worries were over!

The sad sister got a good draught too. The young man who loved her came by at the same time, and they gave him enough to get a farm and marry too.

All of a sudden the mill wheels started turning after they had stood still for weeks. Round and round they turned, round and round.