Hans had served his master seven years, and at the end of the seventh year he said, "Master, my time is up; I want to go home to my mother, so give me my wages, if you please."
"You have served me truly and faithfully," said the master. "As the service is, so must the wages be."
With these words he gave him a lump of gold as big as his head. Hans pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket, and, wrapping the gold up in it, threw it over his shoulder and set out on the road towards his native village.

As he was trudging along, carefully setting one foot to the ground before the other, a horseman came in sight riding on a spirited horse, and looking very gay and lively.
"Ah," said Hans aloud, "how splendid riding must be! Sitting as it were, in an arm chair, stumbling over no stones, saving one's shoes, and getting along without any trouble!"
"Why, then, do you travel on foot, my fine fellow?" asked the rider.
"Because I am forced," replied Hans, "for I have got a bit of a lump to carry home. It is certainly gold, but then I can't carry my head straight, and it hurts my shoulder."
"If you like we will exchange," said the rider. "I will give you my horse, and you can give me your lump of gold."
"With all my heart," cried Hans, "but I will tell you fairly you have undertaken a very heavy burden."

The man dismounted, took the gold, and helped Hans onto the horse.
Giving him the reins, he said, "Now, when you want to go faster, you must chuckle with your tongue and cry 'Giddyup! Giddyup!'"
Hans was glad at heart when he found himself on top of a horse, and riding so freely and gaily.
After a while he thought he should like to go faster, so he cried, "Giddyup! Giddyup!" as the man had told him to do.
The horse set off in a hard trot, and before Hans knew it, he was thrown head over heels into a ditch that divided the fields from the road. The horse would have bolted off if he had not been stopped by a peasant, who was coming that way, driving a cow before him.

Hans picked himself up, but he was put out and said to the peasant, "That is a bad sport, that riding, especially with such a beast that stumbles and throws one off so as to nearly break one's neck. I will never ride that animal again. Commend me to your cow. One may walk behind her without any discomfort, and besides, one has milk, butter and cheese every day from her. Ah! What would I not give for such a cow!"
"Well," said the peasant, "such an advantage you may soon enjoy. I will exchange my cow for your horse."
Hans agreed with a thousand thanks, and the peasant rode off in a hurry.

Hans now drove his cow steadily before him, thinking of his lucky bargain: "I have a bit of bread, and now I can eat it with butter or cheese as often as I like. When I am thirsty I can milk my cow. What more can I desire?"

Soon he came to an inn and halted. He ate all the bread he had brought with him for his noonday and evening meals, and spent his last two farthings on a drink to wash it down. The next day he continued droving towards his mother's village. As the sun rose higher in the sky, the heat became more oppressive and as noon approached Hans came to a common that was an hour's journey across.
He thought to himself, "This won't do. I will just milk my cow and refresh myself."
He tied her to the stump of a tree and, having no pail, placed his leather cap below. He set to work, but not a drop of milk could he squeeze out. He had placed himself very awkwardly, and at last the impatient cow gave him such a kick on the head that he tumbled over on the ground, and for a long time knew not where he was.

Fortunately, a few hours later, a butcher passed by, trundling a young pig upon a wheelbarrow.
"What trick is this!", he exclaimed, helping up poor Hans, and Hans told him all that had passed.
The butcher then handed him his flask and said, "There, take a drink, it will revive you. Your cow might well give no milk as she is an old beast, and worth nothing at the best but for the plough or the butcher!"
"Eh! Eh!" said Hans, pulling his hair over his eyes, "who would have thought it? It is all very well when one can kill a beast like that at home, and make a profit of the flesh. But for my part I have no relish for cow's flesh; it is too tough for me! Ah! A young pig like yours is the thing that tastes good!"
"Well now, for love of you," said the butcher, "I will make an exchange, and let you have my pig for your cow."
"Heaven reward you for your kindness," cried Hans, and giving up the cow he untied the pig from the barrow, and took into his hand the string with which it was tied.

Hans walked on again, considering how everything had happened just as he wished, and how all his problems had been solved. Presently a boy overtook him, carrying a fine white goose under his arm. They exchanged greetings, and Hans began to talk about his luck, and what profitable exchanges he had made. The boy told him that he was carrying the goose to a christening feast.
"Just lift it," he said, holding it up by its wings, "just feel how heavy it is. Why it has been fattened up for the last eight weeks."
"Yes," said Hans, weighing it with one hand, "it is weighty, but my pig is no trifle either."
While he spoke, the boy kept looking about on all sides, shaking his head suspiciously.
At length he broke out, "I am afraid it is not all right about your pig. In the last village I passed, a pig has been stolen out of the sty of the mayor himself, and I am afraid you have it now in your hand. They have sent out a search party, and it would be very bad for you if they found you with the pig. "

Poor Hans grew pale with fright, and exclaimed, "For Heaven's sake help me out of this scrape! You know the neighbourhood better than I. Will you take the pig and let me have your goose?" he asked the boy.
"It will be running some risk," replied the boy, taking the rope and going off with the pig by a side path. Hans, lightened of his cares, walked on homewards with the goose under his arm.
"The more I think of it," he thought to himself, "the better the bargain seems. First there is the good roast, then the fat for goose broth, and then the fine white feathers for my pillow. What pleasure my mother will have!"

As he came to the last village on his road, there stood a knife-grinder with his barrow by the hedge, whirling his wheel around and singing,

"My scissors I grind, and my wheel I turn;
And all good fellows my trade should learn,
For all that I meet with just serves my turn."

Hans stopped and looked at him, and at last he said, "You seem very well off, and merry with your grinding."
"Yes," answered the grinder, "this business has a golden bottom! A true knife-grinder is a man who as often as he puts his hand into his pocket feels money in it. But what a fine goose you have got. Where did you buy it?"
"I did not buy it at all," said Hans, "but took it in exchange for my pig."
"And the pig?"
" I exchanged for my cow."
"And the cow?"
"I exchanged for my horse."
"And the horse?" For him I gave a lump of gold as big as my head."
"And the gold?"
"That was my wages for seven years' of service."
"And I see you have known how to benefit yourself each time," said the grinder, "but could you now hear the money rattling in your pocket as you walk, your fortune would be made."
"Well! How shall I manage that?" asked Hans.
"You must become a grinder like me. For this trade you only need a grindstone. Here is one that is a little worn, certainly, and so I will not ask anything more for it than your goose. Are you agreeable?"
"How can you ask me that?" asked Hans, "Why I shall be the luckiest man in the world, having money as often as I put my hand in my pocket. What have I to care about any longer?"
So saying, he handed over the goose and received the grindstone in exchange.
"Now," said the grinder, picking up an ordinary big flint stone that lay near, "now there you have a capital stone. Take it and use it carefully."

Hans took the stone and walked on with a satisfied heart, his eyes glistening with joy.
"I must have been born under a lucky star!" cried he, while his eyes sparkled for joy. "I have only to wish for a thing and it is mine."
Soon, however, having walked since daybreak, he began to feel very tired, and was plagued with hunger, since he had long ago eaten all his provisions. At last he felt unable to further and was forced to stop often as the stone was so heavy. Just then the thought came to him that it would be good if he did not have to carry it any longer, and at the same moment he came to a stream. Here he stopped to refresh himself. As he was kneeling to drink the water, he accidentally pushed the stone into the water.

Hans jumped for joy, and then kneeled down and returned thanks with tears in his eyes, that so mercifully and with no act on his part, he had been delivered from the heavy stone, which alone hindered him from getting on.
"I really think," exclaimed Hans, "I am the luckiest man under the sun!"
So on he went, with a light heart, and void of care, until he reached his mother's house.

Adapted and reprinted from Household Stories, by the Brothers Grimm, translated by Lucy Crane, 1886, republished in 1963, Dover Publications, New York

Q: What was Hans' attitude towards material possessions? Was he worried about having enough?

Q: Do you think the gradual stripping away of the material wealth Hans had is a metaphor for any other type of lightening of burdens?

Q: What was Hans' attitude towards being tricked and taken advantage of by others? Did he harbour any resentment? Did he see anything as negative?

Maxim Four: "Be plain and simple to be identical with Nature".
Maxim Five: "Be truthful. Take miseries as Divine blessings for your own good and be thankful".
Maxim Six: "Know all people as thy brethren and treat them as such".
Maxim Seven: "Be not revengeful for the wrongs done by others. Take them with gratitude as heavenly gifts".
Maxim Eight: "Be happy to eat in constant Divine thought, whatever you get, with due regard to honest and pious earnings".

Q: How can you relate these maxims to Hans' behaviour?

Q: Some people may think Hans was stupid. What do you think?

O, Master!
Thou art the real goal of human life.
We are yet but slaves of wishes
Putting bar to our advancement,
Thou art the only God and power
To bring us up to that stage.