Just summon
all our relations hither, and I will make them rich folks.” “That suits
me well,” said the tailor, “for then I shall have no need to torment
myself any longer with the needle,” and ran out himself and called the
relations together. As soon as they were assembled, the miller bade
them make way, spread out his cloth, and brought the ass into the room. “Now watch,” said he, and cried, “Bricklebrit,” but no gold pieces
fell, and it was clear that the animal knew nothing of the art, for
every ass does not attain such perfection. Then the poor miller pulled
a long face, saw that he was betrayed, and begged pardon of the
relatives, who went home as poor as they came. There was no help for
it, the old man had to betake him to his needle once more, and the
youth hired himself to a miller. The third brother had apprenticed himself to a turner, and as that is
skilled labour, he was the longest in learning. His brothers, however,
told him in a letter how badly things had gone with them, and how the
innkeeper had cheated them of their beautiful wishing-gifts on the last
evening before they reached home. When the turner had served his time,
and had to set out on his travels, as he had conducted himself so well,
his master presented him with a sack and said, “There is a cudgel in
it.” “I can put on the sack,” said he, “and it may be of good service
to me, but why should the cudgel be in it? It only makes it heavy.” “I
will tell thee why,” replied the master; “if any one has done anything
to injure thee, do but say, ‘Out of the sack, Cudgel!’ and the cudgel
will leap forth among the people, and play such a dance on their backs
that they will not be able to stir or move for a week, and it will not
leave off until thou sayest, ‘Into the sack, Cudgel!’” The apprentice
thanked him, and put the sack on his back, and when any one came too
near him, and wished to attack him, he said, “Out of the sack, Cudgel!”
and instantly the cudgel sprang out, and dusted the coat or jacket of
one after the other on their backs, and never stopped until it had
stripped it off them, and it was done so quickly, that before anyone
was aware, it was already his own turn. In the evening the young turner
reached the inn where his brothers had been cheated. He laid his sack
on the table before him, and began to talk of all the wonderful things
which he had seen in the world. “Yes,” said he, “people may easily find
a table which will cover itself, a gold-ass, and things of that
kind—extremely good things which I by no means despise—but these are
nothing in comparison with the treasure which I have won for myself,
and am carrying about with me in my sack there.” The inn-keeper pricked
up his ears, “What in the world can that be?” thought he; “the sack
must be filled with nothing but jewels; I ought to get them cheap too,
for all good things go in threes.” When it was time for sleep, the
guest stretched himself on the bench, and laid his sack beneath him for
a pillow. When the inn-keeper thought his guest was lying in a sound
sleep, he went to him and pushed and pulled quite gently and carefully
at the sack to see if he could possibly draw it away and lay another in
its place. The turner had, however, been waiting for this for a long
time, and now just as the inn-keeper was about to give a hearty tug, he
cried, “Out of the sack, Cudgel!” Instantly the little cudgel came
forth, and fell on the inn-keeper and gave him a sound thrashing. The host cried for mercy; but the louder he cried, so much more heavily
the cudgel beat the time on his back, until at length he fell to the
ground exhausted. Then the turner said, “If thou dost not give back the
table which covers itself, and the gold-ass, the dance shall begin
afresh.” “Oh, no,” cried the host, quite humbly, “I will gladly produce
everything, only make the accursed kobold creep back into the sack.”
Then said the apprentice, “I will let mercy take the place of justice,
but beware of getting into mischief again!” So he cried, “Into the
sack, Cudgel!” and let him have rest. Next morning the turner went home to his father with the wishing-table,
and the gold-ass. The tailor rejoiced when he saw him once more, and
asked him likewise what he had learned in foreign parts. “Dear father,”
said he, “I have become a turner.” “A skilled trade,” said the father. “What hast thou brought back with thee from thy travels?”

“A precious thing, dear father,” replied the son, “a cudgel in the
sack.”

“What!” cried the father, “a cudgel! That’s worth thy trouble, indeed! From every tree thou can cut thyself one.” “But not one like this, dear
father. If I say, ‘Out of the sack, Cudgel!’ the cudgel springs out and
leads any one who means ill with me a weary dance, and never stops
until he lies on the ground and prays for fair weather. Look you, with
this cudgel have I got back the wishing-table and the gold-ass which
the thievish inn-keeper took away from my brothers. Now let them both
be sent for, and invite all our kinsmen. I will give them to eat and to
drink, and will fill their pockets with gold into the bargain.” The old
tailor would not quite believe, but nevertheless got the relatives
together. Then the turner spread a cloth in the room and led in the
gold-ass, and said to his brother, “Now, dear brother, speak to him.”
The miller said, “Bricklebrit,” and instantly the gold pieces fell down
on the cloth like a thunder-shower, and the ass did not stop until
every one of them had so much that he could carry no more. (I can see
in thy face that thou also wouldst like to be there.) Then the turner brought the little table, and said, “Now dear brother,
speak to it.” And scarcely had the carpenter said, “Table, cover
thyself,” than it was spread and amply covered with the most exquisite
dishes. Then such a meal took place as the good tailor had never yet
known in his house, and the whole party of kinsmen stayed together till
far in the night, and were all merry and glad. The tailor locked away
needle and thread, yard-measure and goose, in a press, and lived with
his three sons in joy and splendour. (What, however, has become of the
goat who was to blame for the tailor driving out his three sons? That I
will tell thee. She was ashamed that she had a bald head, and ran to a
fox’s hole and crept into it. When the fox came home, he was met by two
great eyes shining out of the darkness, and was terrified and ran away. A bear met him, and as the fox looked quite disturbed, he said, “What
is the matter with thee, brother Fox, why dost thou look like that?”
“Ah,” answered Redskin, “a fierce beast is in my cave and stared at me
with its fiery eyes.” “We will soon drive him out,” said the bear, and
went with him to the cave and looked in, but when he saw the fiery
eyes, fear seized on him likewise; he would have nothing to do with the
furious beast, and took to his heels.