“With what should I be satisfied?
Among the graves I leapt about,
And found no leaves, so went without,
Ma! Ma!”
“Oh, the brood of liars!” cried the tailor, “each as wicked and forgetful of his duty as the other! Ye shall no longer make a fool of me,” and, quite beside himself with anger, he ran up-stairs and belabored the poor young fellow so vigorously with the yard-measure that he sprang out of the house.
The old tailor was now alone with his goat. Next morning he went down into the stable, caressed the goat and said, “Come, my dear little animal, I myself will take you to feed.”
He took her by the rope and conducted her to green hedges, and amongst milfoil, and whatever else goats like to eat. “There you may for once eat to your heart’s content,” said he to her, and let her browse till evening.
Then he asked, “Goat, are you satisfied?” She replied:
“I have eaten so much,
Not a leaf more I’ll touch,
Ma! Ma!”
“Come home, then,” said the tailor, and led her into the stable, and tied her fast.
When he was going away, he turned round again and said, “Well, are you satisfied for once?”
But the goat did not behave better to him, and cried:
“With what should I be satisfied?
Among the graves I leapt about,
And found no leaves, so went without,
Ma! Ma!”
When the tailor heard that, he was shocked, and saw clearly that he had driven away his three sons without cause. “Wait, you ungrateful creature,” cried he, “it is not enough to drive you forth, I will mark you so that you will no more dare to show yourself amongst honest tailors!”
In great haste, he ran up-stairs, fetched his razor, lathered the goat’s head, and shaved her as clean as the palm of his hand. And as the yard-measure would have been too good for her, he brought the horsewhip, and gave her such cuts with it that she ran away with mighty leaps.
When the tailor was thus left quite alone in his house, he fell into great grief, and would gladly have had his sons back again. But no one knew whither they were gone.
The eldest had apprenticed himself to a joiner, and learnt industriously and unweariedly, and when the time came for him to go on his travels, his master presented him with a little table which had no unusual appearance, and was made of common wood. But it had one good property; if any one put it down, and said:
“Little Table!
Set thyself!”
the good Little Table was at once covered with a clean little cloth. And a plate was there, and a knife and fork beside it, and dishes with boiled meats and roasted meats, as many as there was room for, and a great glass of red wine shone so that it made the heart glad.
The young journeyman thought, “With this you have enough for your whole life!” and went joyously about the world, and never troubled himself whether an inn was good or bad, or if anything was to be found in it or not. When it suited him he did not enter an inn at all, but either in the plain, a wood, a meadow, or wherever he fancied, he took his Little Table off his back, set it down before him, and said:
“Little Table!
Set thyself!”
and then everything appeared that his heart desired.
At length, he took it into his head to go back to his father, whose anger would now be appeased, and who would now willingly receive him with his Wishing-Table. It came to pass that on his way home, he arrived, one evening, at an inn which was filled with guests. They bade him welcome, and invited him to sit and eat with them, for otherwise he would have difficulty in getting anything.
“No,” answered the joiner, “I will not take the few bites out of your mouths. Rather than that, you shall be my guests.”
They laughed, and thought he was joking. He, however, placed his wooden Little Table in the middle of the room, and said:
“Little Table!
Set thyself!”
Instantly it was covered with food, so good that the host could never have procured it, and the smell of it arose pleasantly to the noses of the guests.
“Fall to, dear Friends,” said the joiner.
And the guests, when they saw that he meant it, did not need to be asked twice, but drew near, pulled out their knives and attacked it valiantly. And what surprised them most, was that when a dish became empty, a full one instantly took its place. The innkeeper stood in one corner and watched the doings. He did not know what to say, but thought, “I could easily find use for such a cook as that in my kitchen.”
The joiner and his comrades made merry until late into the night. At length they lay down to sleep, and the young apprentice also went to bed, and set his Magic Table against the wall.
The host’s thoughts, however, let him have no rest. It occurred to him that there was a little old table in his lumber-room, which looked just like the apprentice’s. And he brought it out quite softly, and exchanged it for the Wishing-Table.
Next morning, the joiner paid for his bed, took up his table, never thinking that he had got a false one, and went his way.
At midday, he reached his father, who received him with great joy. “Well, my dear son, what have you learnt?” said he to him.
“Father, I have become a joiner.”
“A good trade,” replied the old man; “but what have you brought back with you from your apprenticeship?”
“Father, the best thing which I have brought back with me is this Little Table.”
The tailor examined it on all sides and said, “You did not make a masterpiece, when you made that. It is a bad old table.”
“But it is a table which furnishes itself,” replied the son. “When I put it down, and tell it to set itself, the most beautiful dishes stand on it, and a wine also which gladdens the heart. Just invite all our relations and friends. They shall refresh and enjoy themselves for once, for the table will give them all they require.”
When the company was assembled, he put his table in the middle of the room and said:
“Little Table!
Set thyself!”
but the little table did not bestir itself, and remained just as bare as any other table which did not understand language. Then the poor apprentice became aware that his table had been changed, and was ashamed at having to stand there like a liar.
The relations, however, mocked him, and were forced to go home without having eaten or drunk. The father brought out his patches, and began to tailor again, but the son went to a master in the craft.
The second son had gone to a miller and had apprenticed himself to him. When his years were over, the master said, “As you have conducted yourself so well, I give you an Ass of a peculiar kind, which neither draws a cart nor carries a sack.”
“To what use is he put, then?” asked the young apprentice.
“He lets gold drop from his mouth,” answered the miller. “If you set him on a cloth, and say:
“‘Bricklebrit!’
the good animal will drop gold pieces for you.”
“That is a fine thing,” said the apprentice, and thanked the master, and went out into the world. When he had need of gold, he had only to say:
“Bricklebrit!”
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