“Well, what’s that again?” screamed he, “Haven’t I told you you ought
not to cut shoes so broad? Who would buy a shoe like this, which is
hardly anything else but a sole? I insist on my orders being followed
exactly.” “Master,” answered the apprentice, “you may easily be quite
right about the shoe being a bad one, but it is the one which you
yourself cut out, and yourself set to work at. When you jumped up a
while since, you knocked it off the table, and I have only just picked
it up. An angel from heaven, however, would never make you believe
that.”

One night Master Pfriem dreamed he was dead, and on his way to heaven. When he got there, he knocked loudly at the door. “I wonder,” said he
to himself, “that they have no knocker on the door,—one knocks one’s
knuckles sore.” The apostle Peter opened the door, and wanted to see
who demanded admission so noisily. “Ah, it’s you, Master Pfriem;” said
he, “well, I’ll let you in, but I warn you that you must give up that
habit of yours, and find fault with nothing you see in heaven, or you
may fare ill.” “You might have spared your warning,” answered Pfriem. “I know already what is seemly, and here, God be thanked, everything is
perfect, and there is nothing to blame as there is on earth.” So he
went in, and walked up and down the wide expanses of heaven. He looked
around him, to the left and to the right, but sometimes shook his head,
or muttered something to himself. Then he saw two angels who were
carrying away a beam. It was the beam which some one had had in his own
eye whilst he was looking for the splinter in the eye of another. They
did not, however, carry the beam lengthways, but obliquely. “Did any
one ever see such a piece of stupidity?” thought Master Pfriem; but he
said nothing, and seemed satisfied with it. “It comes to the same thing
after all, whichever way they carry the beam, straight or crooked, if
they only get along with it, and truly I do not see them knock against
anything.” Soon after this he saw two angels who were drawing water out
of a well into a bucket, but at the same time he observed that the
bucket was full of holes, and that the water was running out of it on
every side. They were watering the earth with rain. “Hang it,” he
exclaimed; but happily recollected himself, and thought, “Perhaps it is
only a pastime. If it is an amusement, then it seems they can do
useless things of this kind even here in heaven, where people, as I
have already noticed, do nothing but idle about.” He went farther and
saw a cart which had stuck fast in a deep hole. “It’s no wonder,” said
he to the man who stood by it; “who would load so unreasonably? what
have you there?” “Good wishes,” replied the man, “I could not go along
the right way with it, but still I have pushed it safely up here, and
they won’t leave me sticking here.” In fact an angel did come and
harnessed two horses to it. “That’s quite right,” thought Pfriem, “but
two horses won’t get that cart out, it must at least have four to it.”
Another angel came and brought two more horses; she did not, however,
harness them in front of it, but behind. That was too much for Master
Pfriem, “Clumsy creature,” he burst out with, “what are you doing
there? Has any one ever since the world began seen a cart drawn in that
way? But you, in your conceited arrogance, think that you know
everything best.” He was going to say more, but one of the inhabitants
of heaven seized him by the throat and pushed him forth with
irresistible strength. Beneath the gateway Master Pfriem turned his
head round to take one more look at the cart, and saw that it was being
raised into the air by four winged horses. At this moment Master Pfriem awoke. “Things are certainly arranged in
heaven otherwise than they are on earth,” said he to himself, “and that
excuses much; but who can see horses harnessed both behind and before
with patience; to be sure they had wings, but who could know that? It
is, besides, great folly to fix a pair of wings to a horse that has
four legs to run with already! But I must get up, or else they will
make nothing but mistakes for me in my house. It is a lucky thing for
me though, that I am not really dead.”



179 The Goose-Girl at the Well

There was once upon a time a very old woman, who lived with her flock
of geese in a waste place among the mountains, and there had a little
house. The waste was surrounded by a large forest, and every morning
the old woman took her crutch and hobbled into it. There, however, the
dame was quite active, more so than any one would have thought,
considering her age, and collected grass for her geese, picked all the
wild fruit she could reach, and carried everything home on her back. Any one would have thought that the heavy load would have weighed her
to the ground, but she always brought it safely home. If any one met
her, she greeted him quite courteously. “Good day, dear countryman, it
is a fine day. Ah! you wonder that I should drag grass about, but every
one must take his burthen on his back.” Nevertheless, people did not
like to meet her if they could help it, and took by preference a
round-about way, and when a father with his boys passed her, he
whispered to them, “Beware of the old woman. She has claws beneath her
gloves; she is a witch.” One morning, a handsome young man was going
through the forest. The sun shone bright, the birds sang, a cool breeze
crept through the leaves, and he was full of joy and gladness. He had
as yet met no one, when he suddenly perceived the old witch kneeling on
the ground cutting grass with a sickle. She had already thrust a whole
load into her cloth, and near it stood two baskets, which were filled
with wild apples and pears. “But, good little mother,” said he, “how
canst thou carry all that away?” “I must carry it, dear sir,” answered
she, “rich folk’s children have no need to do such things, but with the
peasant folk the saying goes, don’t look behind you, you will only see
how crooked your back is!”

“Will you help me?” she said, as he remained standing by her. “You have
still a straight back and young legs, it would be a trifle to you. Besides, my house is not so very far from here, it stands there on the
heath behind the hill. How soon you would bound up thither.” The young
man took compassion on the old woman. “My father is certainly no
peasant,” replied he, “but a rich count; nevertheless, that you may see
that it is not only peasants who can carry things, I will take your
bundle.” “If you will try it,” said she, “I shall be very glad. You
will certainly have to walk for an hour, but what will that signify to
you; only you must carry the apples and pears as well?” It now seemed
to the young man just a little serious, when he heard of an hour’s
walk, but the old woman would not let him off, packed the bundle on his
back, and hung the two baskets on his arm. “See, it is quite light,”
said she. “No, it is not light,” answered the count, and pulled a
rueful face.