's flesh; it is
not tender enough. Now, if one had a young pig! That would taste far
different, to say nothing of the sausages!"

"Listen, Hans," said the butcher. "For your sake, I will exchange, and
let you have my pig for your cow."

"May Heaven reward your friendship!" said Hans, and at once gave him
the cow.

The man untied the pig from the wheelbarrow, and gave the rope with
which it was bound into Hans's hand.

Hans marched on, thinking: "What a lucky fellow I am. As soon as
anything goes wrong, something turns up and all's right again."

Just then, up came a youth, carrying a fine white goose under his arm.
They were friends, and Hans began to talk about his luck and how
he always came off best in his exchanges. The youth told him he was
taking the goose to a christening feast.

"Just hold it," he continued, seizing it by the wings, "and feel how
heavy it is: yet it was only fattened for eight weeks. It will be a
rich morsel when roasted."

"Yes," said Hans, weighing it with his hand, "it is certainly heavy,
but my pig is by no means to be despised."

Meanwhile the lad was looking thoughtfully around, shaking his head.
"Listen," he said, "I don't think it's all right about your pig. In
the village I have just come through, one has lately been stolen from
the magistrate's own sty. I fear it is the one you have. They have
sent people out, and it would be a bad business if they found you with
the pig. The least they would do would be to throw you into jail."

Our friend Hans was downcast. "Alas," he cried, "help me in my need!
You know your way here better than I. Take my pig then, and give me
your goose."

"I shall be running great risks," said the youth, "but at least I will
prevent your getting into trouble."

He took the rope in his hand and drove the pig quickly away down a
by-path, and Hans went on relieved of his sorrow, towards home, with
the goose under his arm.

"What a lucky fellow I am!" he said to himself. "First, I shall have a
good roast; then there is the quantity of dripping that will fall out,
which will keep me in bread-and-dripping for a quarter of a year; and
lastly, the splendid white feathers, with which I will have my pillow
stuffed; then I shall fall asleep without rocking. How glad my mother
will be!"

When he was at length come to the village, there stood in the street
a scissors-grinder with his truck. His wheel hummed, and he sang the
while:

"My wheel I turn, and