格林童话故事第：刺猬汉斯Hans my Hedgehog

格林童话故事第107篇：刺猬汉斯Hans my Hedgehog

　　引导语：《刺猬汉斯》是一个非常经典的童话故事，它的作者是雅各·格林和威廉·格林两兄弟。它给我们讲述了一个虽然满身是刺却又是那么的坚强，勇敢，善良的刺猬汉斯，同时也告诉我们一个朴素的道理‘做人要言而有信，不能言而无信’。下面是相关的中英文对照，欢迎大家阅读学习。

　　从前有个富有的农夫，他的金钱可车载斗量，他的田地遍布农庄。可是他美满的生活中有一大缺憾，那就是他没有孩子。他进城的时候，经常受到同行农夫的冷嘲热讽，他们问他为什么没有孩子。最后他实在忍受不住，变得十分恼怒，回到家中便气愤地说："我得有个孩子，哪怕是个刺猬也成。"于是他的老婆生了个怪孩子，上半身是刺猬，下半身是男孩。他老婆吓坏了，埋怨他说："你瞧你，这就是你带来的恶运。"农夫无奈地说："米已成粥，现在如何是好?这孩子得接受洗礼，可谁能当他的教父呢?"老婆叹道："给他取什么名子呢?

　　就叫刺猬汉斯吧。"

　　接受洗礼后，牧师说："他浑身是刺，不能睡在普通的床上。"于是在炉子后边铺了些干草，刺猬汉斯就睡在上面。他的母亲无法给他喂奶，因为他的刺会扎伤母亲。他就这样在炉子后面躺了八年，父亲对他烦透了，暗中思忖："他真不如死了好!"可是他躺在那里，活得很顽强。城里要举行集市，农夫在去赶集前，问老婆要带些什么回来。"家里缺些肉和几个白面包。"她说。然后又问女仆，女仆要一双拖鞋和几双绣花的长袜子。最后他还问刺猬，"你想要什么，我的刺猬汉斯?""亲爱的父亲，"他说，"我想要风笛。"当父亲回到家中时，他带回来老婆要的肉和白面包、女仆要的拖鞋和绣花长袜子，然后走到炉子后面，把风笛交给了刺猬汉斯。刺猬汉斯接过风笛，又说："亲爱的父亲，请去铁匠铺给大公鸡钉上掌子，我要骑着大公鸡出门，不再回来啦。"听到这话，父亲不禁暗暗高兴，心想这下我可摆脱他啦。他立刻去给公鸡钉了掌子，然后，刺猬汉斯骑上公鸡上路了，并且随身带走了几只猪和驴，他准备在森林里喂养它们。他们走进森林，大公鸡带着他飞上了一棵大树。此后他就在树上呆了许多许多年，一边照看着他的驴和猪，直到把它们喂养大，他的父亲丝毫不知他的消息。这么多年他还在树上吹着他的风笛，演奏着非常美妙的乐曲。一次，一个迷了路的国王从附近路过，听见了美妙的音乐，感到吃惊，立刻派他的侍从前去查找笛声是从何处传来的。他四周寻找，只发现在高高的树上有一只小动物，看上去像一只骑着公鸡的刺猬在演奏。于是国王命令侍从上前询问他为何坐在那里，知道不知道通往他的王国的道路。刺猬汉斯从树上下来，对国王说如果他肯写一份保证，上面说一旦他到了家，将他在王宫院中遇到的第一件东西赐予他，他就给国王指明道路。国王心想："这事容易，刺猬汉斯大字不识，反正我写什么他都不知道。"于是国王取来笔墨，写了一份保证，写完后，刺猬汉斯给他指了路，国王平平安安地回到了家。他的女儿老远就看见了，喜出望外地奔过来迎接他，还高兴地吻了他。这时他想起了刺猬汉斯，并告诉了她事情的经过，他是如何被迫答应将他回家后遇见的第一件东西赏给一只非常奇怪的动物，它像骑马似地骑着一只大公鸡，还演奏着美妙的乐曲。不过他并没有按照它的意思写，他写的是它不应得到它想得到的东西。公主听后很高兴，夸她父亲做的好，因为她从未想过要和刺猬一起生活。

　　刺猬汉斯同往常一样，照看着他的驴和猪，经常是快快乐乐地坐在树上吹奏他的风笛。

　　一天，又有一个国王带着随从和使者路过这里，他们也迷了路，森林又大又密，他们迷失了回家的方向。他也听见了从不远的地方传来的乐曲，便问使者那是什么，命令他过去看看。使者走到树下，看见树顶上有只公鸡，刺猬汉斯骑在公鸡的背上。使者问他在上面干什么，"我在放我的驴和我的猪，您想做什么?"使者说他们迷路了，无法回到自己的王国，问他能不能为他们指路。刺猬汉斯和公鸡从树上下来，对年迈的国王说如果国王愿意将他在王宫前面遇到的第一件东西赐给他，他就会告诉他路怎么走。国王回答得干脆："好啊，"并写下保证书交给刺猬汉斯。然后汉斯骑着大公鸡走在前面，给他们指出了路，国王平平安安地回到自己的王国。当他到了王宫前的庭院时，只见那儿一片欢腾。国王有一个非常美丽的独生女儿，她跑上前来迎接他，一下子搂住了他的脖子，老父亲的归来让她十分欣慰。她问他究竟上哪儿去了这么长的时间。他说了他是如何迷了路，几乎回不来了，可是当他穿过一座大森林的时候，一只在高高的树上骑着公鸡吹风笛的半刺猬半人的怪物给他指出了方向，并帮助他走出了森林，可是他答应作为回报，将他在宫院里遇到的第一件东西赐予他，现在他首先遇到的是她，为此国王感到很难受。没想到公主却语出惊人，说：为了她所热爱的父亲，她愿意在汉斯来的时候跟他同去。

　　刺猬汉斯仍旧悉心照料着他的猪群，猪群变得越来越大，以至整座森林已经给挤满了。于是刺猬汉斯决定不再住在林子里面了，他给父亲捎去口信，说把村里的所有猪圈都腾空，他将赶一大群牲畜回去，把所有会杀猪的人都招来。他父亲知道此事后感到很难堪，因为他一直以为刺猬汉斯早就死了呢。刺猬汉斯舒舒服服地坐在公鸡背上，赶着一群猪进了村庄。他一声令下，屠宰开始啦。只见刀起斧落，血肉一片，杀猪的声音方圆数里可闻!此事完毕后刺猬汉斯说："父亲，请再去铁匠铺给公鸡钉一回掌吧，这回我走后一辈子也不回来啦。"父亲又一次给公鸡上了掌，他感到一阵轻松，因为刺猬汉斯永远不回来了。

　　刺猬汉斯骑着公鸡到了第一个王国。那里的国王下令，只要看到骑着公鸡手持风笛的人，大家要一起举起弓箭，拿起刀枪，把他阻挡在王宫外面。所以当刺猬汉斯到了城门前的时候，他们全都举起枪矛向他冲来。只见他用鞋刺磕了一下公鸡，那公鸡就飞了起来，越过城门，落在了国王的窗前。汉斯高声叫着国王必须兑现诺言，把属于他的给他，否则他将要国王和他女儿的性命。国王此时很害怕，他央求女儿跟汉斯走，只有这样才能挽救她自己和她父亲的生命。于是她全身穿上了白衣，带着父亲送给她的一辆六匹马拉的马车和一群漂亮的侍女，以及金子和财宝，坐进马车，把汉斯和公鸡还有风笛安置在她身旁，然后一齐起程离去了。国王以为他再也见不着女儿了，可是他万万没想到，他们出城不远，刺猬汉斯便把她漂亮的衣服剥了下来，随后用自己身上的刺把她刺得全身鲜血淋漓。"这就是对你们虚伪狡诈的回报，"他说，"你走吧，我不会要你的。"说完他把她赶了回去，从此以后她一生都让人瞧不起。

　　刺猬汉斯骑着公鸡，吹着风笛继续向第二个国王的国度走去，他曾经为那个国王指过路。那个国王下令，只要有人长得像刺猬汉斯，要对他行举手礼，保护他的安全，向他高唱万岁，并将他引到王宫。

　　没料到国王的女儿看见他，却被他的怪模样吓了一跳。这时她告诫自己不得改变主意，因为她曾向父亲许过诺言。所以她出来迎接刺猬汉斯，并与他结为百年之好。两人走到王宫的餐桌旁，并排坐下，享受着美酒佳肴。傍晚来临，他们该上床休息了，可是她害怕他身上的刺，他安慰她不必害怕，说她不会受到任何伤害的。同时他还要求老国王派四名士兵守在洞房的门边，点燃一堆火，等他走进洞房门准备上床前，他自己会从刺猬皮中爬出来，把刺猬皮扔在床边，他们要立即跑过去，拿起刺猬皮扔进火里，在它烧光之前不得离开。钟敲响了十一点，他步入洞房，脱掉刺猬皮，扔在床边。士兵飞快跑过来，拣起刺猬皮扔进火中。等火把皮烧成了灰，他得救啦，变成了人的模样躺在床上，全身漆黑好像被火烧过一样。国王派来御医，用昂贵的药膏给他全身擦洗、涂抹，不久，他的皮肤变白了，成了一个英俊的小伙子。国王的女儿见他这样十分高兴，第二天早晨他们快快乐乐地起了床，一起吃喝完毕，在庄严的气氛中再次举行婚礼，刺猬汉斯继承了老国王的王位。

　　过了几年他带着妻子去见父亲，告诉父亲他是他的儿子。可是他父亲一再表示他没有儿子，说曾经有过一个，生下来就像一只带刺的刺猬，早就离开了，不知哪儿去啦。汉斯证明了自己是谁，老父亲很高兴，跟着他一起去了他的王国。

　　刺猬汉斯英文版：

　　Hans my Hedgehog

　　Hill and vale do not come together, but the children of men do, good and bad. In this way a shoemaker and a tailor once met with each other in their travels. The tailor was a handsome little fellow who was always merry and full of enjoyment. He saw the shoemaker coming towards him from the other side, and as he observed by his bag what kind of a trade he plied, he sang a little mocking song to him,

　　"Sew me the seam,

　　Draw me the thread,

　　Spread it over with pitch,

　　Knock the nail on the head."

　　The shoemaker, however, could not endure a joke; he pulled a face as if he had drunk vinegar, and made a gesture as if he were about to seize the tailor by the throat. But the little fellow began to laugh, reached him his bottle, and said, "No harm was meant, take a drink, and swallow your anger down." The shoemaker took a very hearty drink, and the storm on his face began to clear away. He gave the bottle back to the tailor, and said, "I spoke civilly to you; one speaks well after much drinking, but not after much thirst. Shall we travel together?" - "All right," answered the tailor, "if only it suits you to go into a big town where there is no lack of work." - "That is just where I want to go," answered the shoemaker. "In a small nest there is nothing to earn, and in the country, people like to go barefoot." They travelled therefore onwards together, and always set one foot before the other like a weasel in the snow.

　　Both of them had time enough, but little to bite and to break. When they reached a town they went about and paid their respects to the tradesmen, and because the tailor looked so lively and merry, and had such pretty red cheeks, every one gave him work willingly, and when luck was good the master's daughters gave him a kiss beneath the porch, as well. When he again fell in with the shoemaker, the tailor had always the most in his bundle. The ill-tempered shoemaker made a wry face, and thought, "The greater the rascal the more the luck," but the tailor began to laugh and to sing, and shared all he got with his comrade. If a couple of pence jingled in his pockets, he ordered good cheer, and thumped the table in his joy till the glasses danced, and it was lightly come, lightly go, with him.

　　When they had travelled for some time, they came to a great forest through which passed the road to the capital. Two foot-paths, however, led through it, one of which was a seven days' journey, and the other only two, but neither of the travellers knew which way was the short one. They seated themselves beneath an oak-tree, and took counsel together how they should forecast, and for how many days they should provide themselves with bread. The shoemaker said, "One must look before one leaps, I will take with me bread for a week." - "What!" said the tailor, "drag bread for seven days on one's back like a beast of burden, and not be able to look about. I shall trust in God, and not trouble myself about anything! The money I have in my pocket is as good in summer as in winter, but in hot weather bread gets dry, and mouldy into the bargain; even my coat does not go as far as it might. Besides, why should we not find the right way? Bread for two days, and that's enough." Each, therefore, bought his own bread, and then they tried their luck in the forest.

　　It was as quiet there as in a church. No wind stirred, no brook murmured, no bird sang, and through the thickly-leaved branches no sunbeam forced its way. The shoemaker spoke never a word, the heavy bread weighed down his back until the perspiration streamed down his cross and gloomy face. The tailor, however, was quite merry, he jumped about, whistled on a leaf, or sang a song, and thought to himself, "God in heaven must be pleased to see me so happy."

　　This lasted two days, but on the third the forest would not come to an end, and the tailor had eaten up all his bread, so after all his heart sank down a yard deeper. In the meantime he did not lose courage, but relied on God and on his luck. On the third day he lay down in the evening hungry under a tree, and rose again next morning hungry still; so also passed the fourth day, and when the shoemaker seated himself on a fallen tree and devoured his dinner, the tailor was only a looker-on. If he begged for a little piece of bread the other laughed mockingly, and said, "Thou hast always been so merry, now thou canst try for once what it is to be sad: the birds which sing too early in the morning are struck by the hawk in the evening," In short he was pitiless. But on the fifth morning the poor tailor could no longer stand up, and was hardly able to utter one word for weakness; his cheeks were white, and his eyes red. Then the shoemaker said to him, "I will give thee a bit of bread to-day, but in return for it, I will put out thy right eye." The unhappy tailor who still wished to save his life, could not do it in any other way; he wept once more with both eyes, and then held them out, and the shoemaker, who had a heart of stone, put out his right eye with a sharp knife. The tailor called to remembrance what his mother had formerly said to him when he had been eating secretly in the pantry. "Eat what one can, and suffer what one must." When he had consumed his dearly-bought bread, he got on his legs again, forgot his misery and comforted himself with the thought that he could always see enough with one eye. But on the sixth day, hunger made itself felt again, and gnawed him almost to the heart. In the evening he fell down by a tree, and on the seventh morning he could not raise himself up for faintness, and death was close at hand. Then said the shoemaker, "I will show mercy and give thee bread once more, but thou shalt not have it for nothing, I shall put out thy other eye for it." And now the tailor felt how thoughtless his life had been, prayed to God for forgiveness, and said, "Do what thou wilt, I will bear what I must, but remember that our Lord God does not always look on passively, and that an hour will come when the evil deed which thou hast done to me, and which I have not deserved of thee, will be requited. When times were good with me, I shared what I had with thee. My trade is of that kind that each stitch must always be exactly like the other. If I no longer have my eyes and can sew no more I must go a-begging. At any rate do not leave me here alone when I am blind, or I shall die of hunger." The shoemaker, however, who had driven God out of his heart, took the knife and put out his left eye. Then he gave him a bit of bread to eat, held out a stick to him, and drew him on behind him.

　　When the sun went down, they got out of the forest, and before them in the open country stood the gallows. Thither the shoemaker guided the blind tailor, and then left him alone and went his way. Weariness, pain, and hunger made the wretched man fall asleep, and he slept the whole night. When day dawned he awoke, but knew not where he lay. Two poor sinners were hanging on the gallows, and a crow sat on the head of each of them. Then one of the men who had been hanged began to speak, and said, "Brother, art thou awake?" - "Yes, I am awake," answered the second. "Then I will tell thee something," said the first; "the dew which this night has fallen down over us from the gallows, gives every one who washes himself with it his eyes again. If blind people did but know this, how many would regain their sight who do not believe that to be possible."

　　When the tailor heard that, he took his pocket-handkerchief, pressed it on the grass, and when it was moist with dew, washed the sockets of his eyes with it. Immediately was fulfilled what the man on the gallows had said, and a couple of healthy new eyes filled the sockets. It was not long before the tailor saw the sun rise behind the mountains; in the plain before him lay the great royal city with its magnificent gates and hundred towers, and the golden balls and crosses which were on the spires began to shine. He could distinguish every leaf on the trees, saw the birds which flew past, and the midges which danced in the air. He took a needle out of his pocket, and as he could thread it as well as ever he had done, his heart danced with delight. He threw himself on his knees, thanked God for the mercy he had shown him, and said his morning prayer. He did not forget also to pray for the poor sinners who were hanging there swinging against each other in the wind like the pendulums of clocks. Then he took his bundle on his back and soon forgot the pain of heart he had endured, and went on his way singing and whistling.

　　The first thing he met was a brown foal running about the fields at large. He caught it by the mane, and wanted to spring on it and ride into the town. The foal, however, begged to be set free. "I am still too young," it said, "even a light tailor such as thou art would break my back in two let me go till I have grown strong. A time may perhaps come when I may reward thee for it." - "Run off," said the tailor, "I see thou art still a giddy thing." He gave it a touch with a switch over its back, whereupon it kicked up its hind legs for joy, leapt over hedges and ditches, and galloped away into the open country.

　　But the little tailor had eaten nothing since the day before. "The sun to be sure fills my eyes," said he, "but the bread does not fill my mouth. The first thing that comes across me and is even half edible will have to suffer for it." In the meantime a stork stepped solemnly over the meadow towards him. "Halt, halt!" cried the tailor, and seized him by the leg. "I don't know if thou art good to eat or not, but my hunger leaves me no great choice. I must cut thy head off, and roast thee." - "Don't do that," replied the stork; "I am a sacred bird which brings mankind great profit, and no one does me an injury. Leave me my life, and I may do thee good in some other way." - "Well, be off, Cousin Longlegs," said the tailor. The stork rose up, let its long legs hang down, and flew gently away.

　　"What's to be the end of this?" said the tailor to himself at last, "my hunger grows greater and greater, and my stomach more and more empty. Whatsoever comes in my way now is lost." At this moment he saw a couple of young ducks which were on a pond come swimming towards him. "You come just at the right moment," said he, and laid hold of one of them and was about to wring its neck. On this an old duck which was hidden among the reeds, began to scream loudly, and swam to him with open beak, and begged him urgently to spare her dear children. "Canst thou not imagine," said she, "how thy mother would mourn if any one wanted to carry thee off, and give thee thy finishing stroke?" - "Only be quiet," said the good-tempered tailor, "thou shalt keep thy children," and put the prisoner back into the water.

　　When he turned round, he was standing in front of an old tree which was partly hollow, and saw some wild bees flying in and out of it. "There I shall at once find the reward of my good deed," said the tailor, "the honey will refresh me." But the Queen-bee came out, threatened him and said, "If thou touchest my people, and destroyest my nest, our stings shall pierce thy skin like ten thousand red-hot needles. But if thou wilt leave us in peace and go thy way, we will do thee a service for it another time."

　　The little tailor saw that here also nothing was to be done. "Three dishes empty and nothing on the fourth is a bad dinner!" He dragged himself therefore with his starved-out stomach into the town, and as it was just striking twelve, all was ready-cooked for him in the inn, and he was able to sit down at once to dinner. When he was satisfied he said, "Now I will get to work." He went round the town, sought a master, and soon found a good situation. As, however, he had thoroughly learnt his trade, it was not long before he became famous, and every one wanted to have his new coat made by the little tailor, whose importance increased daily. "I can go no further in skill," said he, "and yet things improve every day." At last the King appointed him court-tailor.

　　But how things do happen in the world! On the very same day his former comrade the shoemaker also became court-shoemaker. When the latter caught sight of the tailor, and saw that he had once more two healthy eyes, his conscience troubled him. "Before he takes revenge on me," thought he to himself, "I must dig a pit for him." He, however, who digs a pit for another, falls into it himself. In the evening when work was over and it had grown dusk, he stole to the King and said, "Lord King, the tailor is an arrogant fellow and has boasted that he will get the gold crown back again which was lost in ancient times." - "That would please me very much," said the King, and he caused the tailor to be brought before him next morning, and ordered him to get the crown back again, or to leave the town for ever. "Oho!" thought the tailor, "a rogue gives more than he has got. If the surly King wants me to do what can be done by no one, I will not wait till morning, but will go out of the town at once, to-day." He packed up his bundle, therefore, but when he was without the gate he could not help being sorry to give up his good fortune, and turn his back on the town in which all had gone so well with him. He came to the pond where he had made the acquaintance of the ducks; at that very moment the old one whose young ones he had spared, was sitting there by the shore, pluming herself with her beak. She knew him again instantly, and asked why he was hanging his head so? "Thou wilt not be surprised when thou hearest what has befallen me," replied the tailor, and told her his fate. "If that be all," said the duck, "we can help thee. The crown fell into the water, and lies down below at the bottom; we will soon bring it up again for thee. In the meantime just spread out thy handkerchief on the bank." She dived down with her twelve young ones, and in five minutes she was up again and sat with the crown resting on her wings, and the twelve young ones were swimming round about and had put their beaks under it, and were helping to carry it. They swam to the shore and put the crown on the handkerchief. No one can imagine how magnificent the crown was; when the sun shone on it, it gleamed like a hundred thousand carbuncles. The tailor tied his handkerchief together by the four corners, and carried it to the King, who was full of joy, and put a gold chain round the tailor's neck.

　　When the shoemaker saw that one stroke had failed, he contrived a second, and went to the King and said, "Lord King, the tailor has become insolent again; he boasts that he will copy in wax the whole of the royal palace, with everything that pertains to it, loose or fast, inside and out." The King sent for the tailor and ordered him to copy in wax the whole of the royal palace, with everything that pertained to it, movable or immovable, within and without, and if he did not succeed in doing this, or if so much as one nail on the wall were wanting, he should be imprisoned for his whole life under ground.

　　The tailor thought, "It gets worse and worse! No one can endure that?" and threw his bundle on his back, and went forth. When he came to the hollow tree, he sat down and hung his head. The bees came flying out, and the Queen-bee asked him if he had a stiff neck, since he held his head so awry? "Alas, no," answered the tailor, "something quite different weighs me down," and he told her what the King had demanded of him. The bees began to buzz and hum amongst themselves, and the Queen-bee said, "Just go home again, but come back to-morrow at this time, and bring a large sheet with you, and then all will be well." So he turned back again, but the bees flew to the royal palace and straight into it through the open windows, crept round about into every corner, and inspected everything most carefully. Then they hurried back and modelled the palace in wax with such rapidity that any one looking on would have thought it was growing before his eyes. By the evening all was ready, and when the tailor came next morning, the whole of the splendid building was there, and not one nail in the wall or tile of the roof was wanting, and it was delicate withal, and white as snow, and smelt sweet as honey. The tailor wrapped it carefully in his cloth and took it to the King, who could not admire it enough, placed it in his largest hall, and in return for it presented the tailor with a large stone house.

　　The shoemaker, however, did not give up, but went for the third time to the King and said, "Lord King, it has come to the tailor's ears that no water will spring up in the court-yard of the castle, and he has boasted that it shall rise up in the midst of the court-yard to a man's height and be clear as crystal." Then the King ordered the tailor to be brought before him and said, "If a stream of water does not rise in my court-yard by to-morrow as thou hast promised, the executioner shall in that very place make thee shorter by the head." The poor tailor did not take long to think about it, but hurried out to the gate, and because this time it was a matter of life and death to him, tears rolled down his face. Whilst he was thus going forth full of sorrow, the foal to which he had formerly given its liberty, and which had now become a beautiful chestnut horse, came leaping towards him. "The time has come," it said to the tailor, "when I can repay thee for thy good deed. I know already what is needful to thee, but thou shalt soon have help; get on me, my back can carry two such as thou." The tailor's courage came back to him; he jumped up in one bound, and the horse went full speed into the town, and right up to the court-yard of the castle. It galloped as quick as lightning thrice round it, and at the third time it fell violently down. At the same instant, however, there was a terrific clap of thunder, a fragment of earth in the middle of the court-yard sprang like a cannon-ball into the air, and over the castle, and directly after it a jet of water rose as high as a man on horseback, and the water was as pure as crystal, and the sunbeams began to dance on it. When the King saw that he arose in amazement, and went and embraced the tailor in the sight of all men.

　　But good fortune did not last long. The King had daughters in plenty, one still prettier than the other, but he had no son. So the malicious shoemaker betook himself for the fourth time to the King, and said, "Lord King, the tailor has not given up his arrogance. He has now boasted that if he liked, he could cause a son to be brought to the Lord king through the air." The King commanded the tailor to be summoned, and said, "If thou causest a son to be brought to me within nine days, thou shalt have my eldest daughter to wife." - "The reward is indeed great," thought the little tailor; "one would willingly do something for it, but the cherries grow too high for me, if I climb for them, the bough will break beneath me, and I shall fall."

　　He went home, seated himself cross-legged on his work-table, and thought over what was to be done. "It can't be managed," cried he at last, "I will go away; after all I can't live in peace here." He tied up his bundle and hurried away to the gate. When he got to the meadow, he perceived his old friend the stork, who was walking backwards and forwards like a philosopher. Sometimes he stood still, took a frog into close consideration, and at length swallowed it down. The stork came to him and greeted him. "I see," he began, "that thou hast thy pack on thy back. Why art thou leaving the town?" The tailor told him what the King had required of him, and how he could not perform it, and lamented his misfortune. "Don't let thy hair grow grey about that," said the stork, "I will help thee out of thy difficulty. For a long time now, I have carried the children in swaddling-clothes into the town, so for once in a way I can fetch a little prince out of the well. Go home and be easy. In nine days from this time repair to the royal palace, and there will I come." The little tailor went home, and at the appointed time was at the castle. It was not long before the stork came flying thither and tapped at the window. The tailor opened it, and cousin Longlegs came carefully in, and walked with solemn steps over the smooth marble pavement. He had, moreover, a baby in his beak that was as lovely as an angel, and stretched out its little hands to the Queen. The stork laid it in her lap, and she caressed it and kissed it, and was beside herself with delight. Before the stork flew away, he took his travelling bag off his back and handed it over to the Queen. In it there were little paper parcels with colored sweetmeats, and they were divided amongst the little princesses. The eldest, however, had none of them, but got the merry tailor for a husband. "It seems to me," said he, "just as if I had won the highest prize. My mother was if right after all, she always said that whoever trusts in God and only has good luck, can never fail."

　　The shoemaker had to make the shoes in which the little tailor danced at the wedding festival, after which he was commanded to quit the town for ever. The road to the forest led him to the gallows. Worn out with anger, rage, and the heat of the day, he threw himself down. When he had closed his eyes and was about to sleep, the two crows flew down from the heads of the men who were hanging there, and pecked his eyes out. In his madness he ran into the forest and must have died there of hunger, for no one has ever either seen him again or heard of him.