The Brothers Grimm Best Tales E-Book

Brothers Grimm

• Herausgeber: Edicions Perelló
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: Universals - English Letters
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 202

Beschreibung

Enter a magical world where dreams and imagination are linked. The immortal tales of the Grimm Brothers are brought to life through wonderful illustrations, transporting readers to enchanted lands and teaching valuable lessons. Discover the charm of this unique compilation that will delight young and old alike. Embark on a journey of fantasy and surprises with the classics that have captivated generations!

Leseprobe

This collection treasures the most important works of universal literature, each one in its original language.

In the English Letters Series, the following stand out: The Scarlet Letter, by Nathaniel Hawthorne; The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald; Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott; Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice; Oliver Twist, by Charles Dickens; The Secret Garden, by Frances Hodgson Burnett; Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, by Arthur Conan Doyle; Tales of Mystery and Imagination, by Edgar Allan Poe; Hamlet, by William Shakespeare; Romeo and Juliet, by William Shakespeare; The Picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde; The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, by Mark Twain...

Wilhelm Grimm & Jacob Grimm

© Ed. Perelló, SL, 2023

© Correction and adaptation: Julia Viciana Estévez

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I.S.B.N.: 978-84-10227-80-4

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Hans in Luck

Some men are born to good luck: everything they do goes well for them. It is very likely that the world does not always think of them as they think of themselves, but what do they care about the world?

One of these lucky ones was neighbour Hans. He had served his master seven years. Finally, he said, “Master, my time is up; I must go home and see my poor mother once more: so please pay me my wages and let me go.” And the master said, “You have been a loyal and good servant, Hans, so your pay will be handsome.” Then he gave him a lump of silver as big as his head.

Hans took out his pocket-handkerchief, put the piece of silver into it, threw it over his shoulder, and jogged off on his road back home. As he went lazily on, dragging one foot after another, a man came, trotting happily along on a capital horse. “Ah!” said Hans, “what a fine thing it is to ride on horseback! There he sits as comfortable and happy as if he was at home, in the chair by his fireside; he does not stumble over any stones, saves the soles of his shoes, and struggles to move forward.” Hans did not speak so softly but the horseman heard it all, and said, “Well, friend, why do you walk then?” “Ah!” said he, “I have this load to carry: it is silver for sure, but it is so heavy that I can’t hold up my head, and my shoulder aches sadly.” “What do you say of making an exchange?” said the horseman. “I will give you my horse, and you will give me the silver; which will avoid you a lot of problems when carrying such a heavy load.” “With all my heart,” said Hans: “but as you are so kind to me, I must tell you one thing: you will have an exhausting task to carry that silver with you.” However, the horseman got off, took the silver, helped Hans up, gave him the bridle into one hand and the whip into the other, and said, “When you want to go very fast, smack your lips loudly together, and cry “Jip!” “

Hans was delighted as he sat on the horse, drew himself up, squared his elbows, turned out his toes, cracked his whip, and rode merrily off, one minute whistling a merry tune, and another singing,

“No care and no sorrow, A fig for the morrow!

We’ll laugh and be merry,

Sing neigh down derry!”

After a time, he thought he should like to go a little faster, so he smacked his lips and cried “Jip!” The horse started to gallop off at full and, before Hans realized it, he was thrown off and lying on his back beside the road. His horse would have ran off, if a shepherd who was coming by, driving a cow, had not stopped it. Hans soon came to his feet, and stood up, sadly disgusted, and said to the shepherd, “This riding is no joke, when a man has the luck to get on a beast like this that stumbles and throws him off as if it would break his neck. However, I’m off now once for all: I like your cow now much better than this smart beast that played me this trick, and has spoiled my best coat, you see, in this puddle; which, by the way, does not smell much like a bouquet of flowers. One can walk freely behind that cow in good company, and have milk, butter, and cheese, every day. What would I give to have such a prize!” “Well,” said the shepherd, “if you like her so much, I will change my cow for your horse; I like to do good to my neighbours, even though I out.” “Done!” said Hans, cheerfully. “What a noble heart that good man has!” thought he. Then the shepherd jumped upon on the horse, wished Hans and the cow good morning, and rode away.

Hans brushed his coat, wiped his face and hands, rested a while, and then drove off his cow quietly, and thought his deal had been very lucky. “If I have only a piece of bread (and I certainly can always get it), I can, whenever I like, eat my butter and cheese with it; and when I am thirsty, I can milk my cow and drink the milk: and what else can I wish for?” When he came to an inn, he stopped, ate up all his bread, and gave away his last penny for a glass of beer. When he had rested himself, he set off again, driving his cow towards his mother’s village. But the heat increased as noon approached, till at last, as he found himself on a heath that would take him more than an hour to cross, he began to be so hot and parched that his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. “I can find a cure for this,” thought he; “now I will milk my cow and quench my thirst”: so he tied her to a tree trunk, and held his leathern cap to milk into; but he didn’t get a drop. Who would have thought that this cow, which was to bring him milk and butter and cheese, was all that time completely dry? Hans had never thought about it.

While he was trying his luck in milking, very clumsily, the restless beast began to find him very annoying; and gave him such a kick on the head as knocked him down; and there he lay a long time senseless. Luckily a butcher soon came by, driving a pig in a wheelbarrow. “What is wrong with you, my man?” said the butcher, as he helped him up. Hans told him what had happened, how he was dry, and wanted to milk his cow, but found the cow was dry too. Then the butcher gave him a mug of beer, and said, “There, drink and refresh yourself; your cow will not give you milk: don’t you see she is an old beast, only good for the slaughter-house?” “Alas, alas!” said Hans, “who would have thought it? What a shame to take my horse, and give me only a dry cow! If I kill her, how will she be useful to me? I hate cow-beef; it is not tender enough for me. If it were a pig now —like that fat gentleman you are driving along so freely—one could do something with it; it would at least make sausages.” “Well,” said the butcher, “I don’t like to say no, when one is asked to do a kind, neighbourly thing. To please you I will change, and give you my fine fat pig for the cow.” “Heaven reward you for your kindness and self-sacrifice!” said Hans, as he gave the butcher the cow; and taking the pig off the wheel-barrow, carried it away, holding it by the string that was tied to its leg.

So, on he jogged, and all seemed now to go well with him: he had met with some misfortunes, for sure; but he was now well repaid for all. How could it be otherwise with such a fellow traveller as he had at last got?

The next man he met was a countryman carrying a fine white goose. The countryman stopped to ask what time it was; this led to further talk; and Hans told him all his luck, how he had so many good deals, and how all the world went happy and smiling with him. The countryman began to tell his story, and said he was going to take the goose to a christening. “Feel,” said he, “how heavy it is, and yet it is only eight weeks old. Whoever roasts and eats it will find a lot of fat on it, it has lived so well!” “You’re right,” said Hans, as he weighed it in his hand; “but if you talk of fat, my pig is a big thing.” Meanwhile the countryman became serious, and shook his head. “Listen!” said he, “my good friend, you seem like a nice man, so I must do you a favour. You can get you in trouble. In the village where I came from, the squire has had a pig stolen out of his pigsty. I was dreadfully afraid when I saw you that you had got the squire’s pig. If you have, and they catch you, it will be bad for you. The least they will do is throw you into the horse-pond. Can you swim?”

Poor Hans was very frightened. “Good man,” cried he, “please get me out of this trouble. I don’t know where the pig was bred or born; but he may have belonged to the squire: you know this country better than I do, take my pig and give me the goose.” I should have something in return,” said the countryman; “give me a fat goose for a pig! “Not everyone would do so much for you. However, I will not be hard on you, as you are in trouble.” Then he took the string in his hand, and drove off the pig by a side path; while Hans went on the way back home carelessly. “After all,” thought he, “that guy is pretty well taken in. I don’t care whose pig it is, but wherever it came from it has been a very good friend to me. I have a lot to gain. First there will be a capital roast; then the fat will serve me as goose-fat for six months; and then there are all the beautiful white feathers. I will put them into my pillow, and then I am sure I will sleep soundly without rocking. How happy my mother will be! What a pig! Give me a big fat goose.”

As he came to the next village, he saw a scissor-grinder with his wheel, working and singing,

“Over hill and over dale

So happy I roam,

Work light and live well,

All the world is my home;

Then who so blithe, so merry as I?”

Hans stared for a while, and at last said, “You must be doing very well, master grinder! you seem so happy at your work.” “Yes,” said the other, mine is a golden job; a good grinder never puts his hand into his pocket without finding money in it—but where did you get that beautiful goose?” “I did not buy it; I gave a pig for it.” “And where did you get the pig?” “I gave a cow for it.” “And the cow?” “I gave a horse for it.” “And the horse?” “I gave a lump of silver as big as my head for it.” “And the silver?” “Oh! I worked hard for those seven long years.” “So far you’ve done well for yourself in the world,” said the grinder, “now if you could find money in your pocket whenever you put your hand in it, your fortune would be made.” “Very true: but how do you do that?” “How? Why, you must turn grinder like myself,” said the other; “all you need is a grindstone; the rest will come of itself. Here is one that is in a very bad condition: I would not ask more than the value of your goose for it—will you buy?” “How can you ask?” said Hans; “I should be the happiest man in the world, if I could have money whenever I put my hand in my pocket: what could I want more? there is the goose.” “Now,” said the grinder, as he gave him a common rough stone that lay by his side, “this is a very valuable stone; if you work it well, you can cut an old nail with it.”

Hans took the stone, and went his way with a light heart: his eyes were shining with joy, and he said to himself, “Surely, I must have been born in a lucky hour; everything I want or wish for comes by itself. People are so kind; they seem really to think I do them a favour by letting them make me rich, and giving me good deals.”

Meanwhile he began to be tired, and hungry too, because he had given away his last penny in his joy at getting the cow.

Finally, he could not go farther, for the stone tired him sadly: and he went to the side of a river to drink some water, and rest a while. So he laid the stone carefully by his side on the bank: but, as he stooped down to drink, he forgot it, pushed it a little, and it rolled down into the stream.

For a while he watched it sinking in the deep clear water; then stood up and danced for joy, and again fell upon his knees and thanked Heaven, with tears in his eyes, for its kindness in taking away his only plague, the ugly heavy stone.

“How happy am I!” cried he; “nobody was ever so lucky as I.” Then he got up with a light heart, free from all his troubles, and walked on till he reached his mother’s house, and told her how very easy the road to good luck was.

Jorinda and Jorindel

There was once an old castle in the middle of a deep dark wood, and in the castle lived an old fairy. Now this fairy could take any shape she wanted. All the day long she flew all around in the form of an owl, or crept around the country like a cat; but at night she always became an old woman again. When any young man came within a hundred steps of her castle, he became quite fixed, and could not move a step till she came and set him free; which she would not do until he had given her his word never to come there again: but when any pretty maiden came within that space she was changed into a bird, and the fairy put her into a cage, and hung her up in a chamber in the castle. There were seven hundreds of these cages hanging in the castle, and all with beautiful birds in them.

Now there was once a maiden named Jorinda. She was prettier than all the pretty girls that ever were seen before, and a shepherd boy, whose name was Jorindel, loved her very much, and they were soon to be married. One day they went to walk in the wood to be alone; and Jorindel said, “We must be careful not to go too near to the fairy’s castle.” It was a beautiful evening; the last rays of the setting sun shone bright through the long branches of the trees upon the green underwood beneath, and the turtle-doves sang from the tall birches.

Jorinda sat down to stare at the sun; Jorindel sat by her side; and both felt sad, they knew not why; but it seemed as if they were going to be separated forever. They had walked a long way; and when they looked to see which way they should go home, they did not know which way to take.

The sun was setting fast, and already half of its circle had sunk behind the hill: Jorindel looked suddenly behind him, and saw through the bushes that they had, without knowing it, sat down close under the old walls of the castle. Then he shrank for fear, turned pale, and trembled. Jorinda was just singing,

“The ring-dove sang from the willow spray,

Well-a-day! Well-a-day!

He mourned for the fate of his darling mate,

Well-a-day!”

When her song stopped suddenly, Jorindel turned to see the reason, and observed his Jorinda changed into a nightingale, so that her song ended with a mournful [jug, jug/. An owl with fiery eyes flew three times round them, and three times screamed:

“Tu whu! Tu whu! Tu whu!”

Jorindel could not move; he stood fixed as a stone, and could neither weep, nor speak, nor stir hand or foot. And now the sun went quite down; the gloomy night came; the owl flew into a bush; and a moment after the old fairy came forth pale and meagre, with staring eyes, and a nose and chin that almost met one another.

She said something to herself, grabbed the nightingale, and went away with it in her hand. Poor Jorindel saw the nightingale was gone but what could he do? He could not speak; he could not move from the spot where he stood. Finally, the fairy came back and sang with a hoarse voice:

“Till the prisoner is fast, and her doom is cast,

There stay! Oh, stay!

When the charm is around her,

And the spell has bound her,

Hie away! away!”

Suddenly Jorindel found himself free. Then he fell on his knees before the fairy, and prayed her to give him back his dear Jorinda: but she laughed at him, and said he should never see her again; then she went away.

He prayed, he wept, he sorrowed, but all in vain. “Alas!” he said, “what will become of me?” He could not go back to his own home, so he went to a strange village, and employed himself in keeping sheep. Many a time did he walk round and round as near to the hated castle as he dared go, but all in vain; he heard or saw nothing of Jorinda.

At last, he dreamt one night that he found a beautiful purple flower, and that in the middle of it lay a costly pearl; and he dreamt that he plucked the flower, and went with it in his hand into the castle, and that everything he touched with it was disenchanted, and that there he found his Jorinda again.

In the morning when he awoke, he began to search over hill and valley for this pretty flower; and eight long days he sought for it in vain: but on the ninth day, early in the morning, he found the beautiful purple flower; and in the middle of it was a large dewdrop, as big as a costly pearl. Then he plucked the flower, and set out and travelled day and night, till he came again to the castle.

He walked nearer than a hundred paces to it, and yet he did not become fixed as before, but found that he could go quite close up to the door. Jorindel was very glad indeed to see this. Then he touched the door with the flower, and it sprang open; so that he went in through the court, and listened when he heard so many birds singing. Finally, he came to the chamber where the fairy sat, with the seven hundred birds singing in the seven hundred cages. When she saw Jorindel she was very angry, and screamed with rage; but she could not come within two yards of him, because the flower he held in his hand was his safeguard. He looked around at the birds, but alas! there were many, many nightingales, and how then should he find out which was his Jorinda? While he was thinking what to do, he saw the fairy had taken down one of the cages, and was making the best of her way off through the door. He ran or flew after her, touched the cage with the flower, and Jorinda stood before him, and threw her arms round his neck looking as beautiful as ever, as beautiful as when they walked together in the wood.

Then he touched all the other birds with the flower, so that they all took their old forms again; and he took Jorinda home, where they were married, and lived happily together many years: and so did a good many other boys, whose maidens had been forced to sing in the old fairy’s cages by themselves, much longer than they liked.

The Straw, the Coal and the Bean

In a village lived a poor old woman, who had gathered together a dish of beans and wanted to cook them. So she made a fire on her hearth, and to make it burn faster, she lighted it with a handful of straw. When she was emptying the beans into the pan, one dropped without her noticing it, and lay on the ground beside a straw, and soon afterwards a burning coal from the fire leapt down to the two. Then the straw began and said: “Dear friends, from where do you come here?” The coal replied: “I fortunately got out of the fire, and if I had not escaped by pure force, my death would have been certain, —l should have been burnt to ashes.” The bean said: “I too have escaped with a whole skin, but if the old woman had got me into the pan, I should have been made into broth without any mercy, like my comrades.” “And would I have had better luck?” said the straw. “The old woman has destroyed all my brothers in fire and smoke; she seized sixty of them at once, and took their lives. I luckily escaped her fingers.” “But what are we going to do now?” said the coal.

“I think,” answered the bean, “that as we have so fortunately escaped death, we should stay together like good companions, and so that no new misfortune happens to us here, we should go away together to a foreign country.”