Then he wanted to travel
homewards, and be in his own house before nightfall. So he packed his
trunk with the money on his horse, and rode away. At noon he rested in a town, and when he wanted to go farther the
stable-boy brought out his horse and said, “A nail is wanting, sir, in
the shoe of its left hind foot.” “Let it be wanting,” answered the
merchant; “the shoe will certainly stay on for the six miles I have
still to go. I am in a hurry.”

In the afternoon, when he once more alighted and had his horse fed, the
stable-boy went into the room to him and said, “Sir, a shoe is missing
from your horse’s left hind foot. Shall I take him to the blacksmith?”
“Let it still be wanting,” answered the man; “the horse can very well
hold out for the couple of miles which remain. I am in haste.”

He rode forth, but before long the horse began to limp. It had not
limped long before it began to stumble, and it had not stumbled long
before it fell down and broke its leg. The merchant was forced to leave
the horse where it was, and unbuckle the trunk, take it on his back,
and go home on foot. And there he did not arrive until quite late at
night. “And that unlucky nail,” said he to himself, “has caused all
this disaster.”

Hasten slowly. 185 The Poor Boy in the Grave

There was once a poor shepherd-boy whose father and mother were dead,
and he was placed by the authorities in the house of a rich man, who
was to feed him and bring him up. The man and his wife, had however,
bad hearts, and were greedy and anxious about their riches, and vexed
whenever any one put a morsel of their bread in his mouth. The poor
young fellow might do what he liked, he got little to eat, but only so
many blows the more. One day he had to watch a hen and her chickens, but she ran through a
quick-set hedge with them, and a hawk darted down instantly, and
carried her off through the air. The boy called, “Thief! thief! rascal!” with all the strength of his body. But what good did that do? The hawk did not bring its prey back again. The man heard the noise,
and ran to the spot, and as soon as he saw that his hen was gone, he
fell in a rage, and gave the boy such a beating that he could not stir
for two days. Then he had to take care of the chickens without the hen,
but now his difficulty was greater, for one ran here and the other
there. He thought he was doing a very wise thing when he tied them all
together with a string, because then the hawk would not be able to
steal any of them away from him. But he was very much mistaken. After
two days, worn out with running about and hunger, he fell asleep; the
bird of prey came, and seized one of the chickens, and as the others
were tied fast to it, it carried them all off together, perched itself
on a tree, and devoured them. The farmer was just coming home, and when
he saw the misfortune, he got angry and beat the boy so unmercifully
that he was forced to lie in bed for several days. When he was on his legs again, the farmer said to him, “Thou art too
stupid for me, I cannot make a herdsman of thee, thou must go as
errand-boy.” Then he sent him to the judge, to whom he was to carry a
basketful of grapes, and he gave him a letter as well. On the way
hunger and thirst tormented the unhappy boy so violently that he ate
two of the bunches of grapes. He took the basket to the judge, but when
the judge had read the letter, and counted the bunches he said, “Two
clusters are wanting.” The boy confessed quite honestly that, driven by
hunger and thirst, he had devoured the two which were wanting. The
judge wrote a letter to the farmer, and asked for the same number of
grapes again. These also the boy had to take to him with a letter. As
he again was so extremely hungry and thirsty, he could not help it, and
again ate two bunches. But first he took the letter out of the basket,
put it under a stone and seated himself thereon in order that the
letter might not see and betray him. The judge, however, again made him
give an explanation about the missing bunches. “Ah,” said the boy, “how
have you learnt that? The letter could not know about it, for I put it
under a stone before I did it.” The judge could not help laughing at
the boy’s simplicity, and sent the man a letter wherein he cautioned
him to keep the poor boy better, and not let him want for meat and
drink, and also that he was to teach him what was right and what was
wrong. “I will soon show thee the difference,” said the hard man, “if thou
wilt eat, thou must work, and if thou dost anything wrong, thou shalt
be quite sufficiently taught by blows.”

The next day he set him a hard task. He was to chop two bundles of
straw for food for the horses, and then the man threatened: “In five
hours,” said he, “I shall be back again, and if the straw is not cut to
chaff by that time, I will beat thee until thou canst not move a limb.”
The farmer went with his wife, the man-servant and the girl, to the
yearly fair, and left nothing behind for the boy but a small bit of
bread. The boy seated himself on the bench, and began to work with all
his might. As he got warm over it he put his little coat off and threw
it on the straw. In his terror lest he should not get done in time he
kept constantly cutting, and in his haste, without noticing it, he
chopped his little coat as well as the straw. He became aware of the
misfortune too late; there was no repairing it. “Ah,” cried he, “now
all is over with me! The wicked man did not threaten me for nothing; if
he comes back and sees what I have done, he will kill me. Rather than
that I will take my own life.”

The boy had once heard the farmer’s wife say, “I have a pot with poison
in it under my bed.” She, however, had only said that to keep away
greedy people, for there was honey in it. The boy crept under the bed,
brought out the pot, and ate all that was in it. “I do not know,” said
he, “folks say death is bitter, but it tastes very sweet to me. It is
no wonder that the farmer’s wife has so often longed for death.” He
seated himself in a little chair, and was prepared to die. But instead
of becoming weaker he felt himself strengthened by the nourishing food. “It cannot have been poison,” thought he, “but the farmer once said
there was a small bottle of poison for flies in the box in which he
keeps his clothes; that, no doubt, will be the true poison, and bring
death to me.” It was, however, no poison for flies, but Hungarian wine. The boy got out the bottle, and emptied it. “This death tastes sweet
too,” said he, but shortly after when the wine began to mount into his
brain and stupefy him, he thought his end was drawing near. “I feel
that I must die,” said he, “I will go away to the churchyard, and seek
a grave.” He staggered out, reached the churchyard, and laid himself in
a newly dug grave. He lost his senses more and more.