The Two Travellers

Hills and valleys do not meet, but people do, both good and bad. That is how a shoemaker and a tailor once met on their travels. The tailor was a handsome little fellow who was always cheerful and full of fun. He saw the shoemaker coming from the other side, and noticing by his bag what kind of trade he had, he sang a little teasing song:

"Sew me the seam, Draw me the thread, Spread it over with pitch, Knock the nail on the head."

The shoemaker could not take a joke. He made a sour face as if he had drunk vinegar and looked like he might grab the tailor by the throat. But the little tailor laughed, handed him his bottle, and said, "No harm meant.

Take a drink and swallow your anger." The shoemaker took a good gulp, and the storm on his face began to clear. He gave the bottle back and said, "I spoke civilly to you. One speaks well after much drinking, but not after much thirst.

Shall we travel together?" "All right," answered the tailor, "if it suits you to go to a big town where there is plenty of work." "That is just where I want to go," said the shoemaker.

"In a small nest there is nothing to earn, and in the country, people like to go barefoot." So they traveled on together, always putting one foot in front of the other like a weasel in the snow.

Both had plenty of time but little to eat. When they reached a town, they went around and greeted the tradesmen. Because the tailor looked lively and merry and had such pretty red cheeks, everyone gave him work willingly, and when luck was good, the master's daughters even gave him a kiss under the porch.

When he met up with the shoemaker, the tailor always had the most in his bundle. The ill-tempered shoemaker made a sour face and thought, "The bigger the rascal, the more the luck." But the tailor laughed and sang, and shared everything he got with his comrade.

If a few coins jingled in his pockets, he ordered good cheer and thumped the table in his joy until the glasses danced. For him, it was easy come, easy go.

After traveling for some time, they came to a great forest through which the road to the capital passed. Two paths led through it, one a seven days' journey and the other only two, but neither traveler knew which was the shorter.

They sat under an oak tree and discussed how long they should provide themselves with bread. The shoemaker said, "One must look before one leaps. I will take bread for a week." "What!" said the tailor.

"Drag bread for seven days on my back like a beast of burden and not be able to look around? I trust in God and won't worry about anything! The money in my pocket is as good in summer as in winter, but in hot weather bread gets dry and moldy.

Besides, why shouldn't we find the right way? Bread for two days is enough." So each bought his own bread, and then they tried their luck in the forest.

It was as quiet as in a church. No wind stirred, no brook murmured, no bird sang, and no sunbeam forced its way through the thick leaves. The shoemaker said not a word; the heavy bread weighed down his back until sweat streamed down his gloomy face. The tailor, however, was quite merry. He jumped about, whistled on a leaf, or sang a song, and thought to himself, "God in heaven must be pleased to see me so happy."

This lasted two days, but on the third day the forest still did not end, and the tailor had eaten all his bread. His heart sank, but he did not lose courage. He relied on God and his luck.

On the third evening, he lay down hungry under a tree, and rose again the next morning still hungry. The fourth day passed the same way. When the shoemaker sat on a fallen tree and ate his dinner, the tailor could only watch.

If he begged for a little piece of bread, the shoemaker laughed mockingly and said, "You were always so merry; now you can try what it is to be sad. The birds that sing too early in the morning are struck by the hawk in the evening." In short, he was pitiless.

On the fifth morning, the poor tailor could no longer stand up. He was barely able to speak for weakness; his cheeks were white, and his eyes red. Then the shoemaker said, "I will give you a bit of bread today, but in return, I will put out your right eye." The unhappy tailor, who still wished to save his life, could not do otherwise.

He wept with both eyes, then held them out, and the shoemaker, who had a heart of stone, cut out his right eye with a sharp knife. The tailor remembered what his mother had once said when he had eaten secretly in the pantry: "Eat what you can, and suffer what you must." After eating the dearly bought bread, he got to his feet again, forgot his misery, and comforted himself with the thought that he could still see enough with one eye.

But on the sixth day, hunger gnawed at him again. In the evening, he fell down by a tree. On the seventh morning, he could not raise himself up for faintness, and death was close.

Then the shoemaker said, "I will show mercy and give you bread once more, but not for nothing. I will put out your other eye for it." Now the tailor felt how thoughtless his life had been.

He prayed to God for forgiveness and said, "Do what you will; I will bear what I must. But remember that our Lord God does not always look on passively, and that an hour will come when the evil deed you have done to me, which I have not deserved, will be repaid.

When times were good, I shared what I had with you. My trade requires that each stitch must be exactly like the other. If I no longer have my eyes and cannot sew, I must go begging.

At least do not leave me here alone when I am blind, or I will die of hunger." But the shoemaker, who had driven God out of his heart, took the knife and put out his left eye.

Then he gave him a piece of bread to eat, held out a stick, and led him along behind him.

When the sun went down, they came out of the forest, and before them in the open country stood the gallows. The shoemaker led the blind tailor there, then left him alone and went his way. Weariness, pain, and hunger made the wretched man fall asleep, and he slept the whole night.

When day dawned, he awoke but did not know where he lay. Two poor sinners were hanging on the gallows, and a crow sat on the head of each. Then one of the hanged men began to speak: "Brother, are you awake?" "Yes, I am awake," answered the second.

"Then I will tell you something," said the first. "The dew that has fallen on us from the gallows tonight gives everyone who washes with it their eyes again. If blind people only knew this, how many would regain their sight who do not believe it possible!"

When the tailor heard this, he took his pocket handkerchief, pressed it on the grass until it was wet with dew, and washed his eye sockets with it. Immediately what the man on the gallows had said came true, and a pair of healthy new eyes filled the sockets.

Before long, the tailor saw the sun rise behind the mountains. In the plain before him lay the great royal city with its magnificent gates and hundred towers, and the golden balls and crosses on the spires began to shine.

He could distinguish every leaf on the trees, saw the birds flying past, and the midges dancing in the air. He took a needle out of his pocket, and when he could thread it as well as ever, his heart danced with delight.

He threw himself on his knees, thanked God for the mercy shown to him, and said his morning prayer. He did not forget to pray for the poor sinners who were hanging there, swinging against each other in the wind like pendulum clocks.

Then he took his bundle on his back, soon forgot the pain he had endured, and went on his way singing and whistling.

The first thing he met was a brown foal running about in the fields. He caught it by the mane and wanted to jump on it and ride into the city. But the foal begged to be set free. "I am still too young," it said.

"Even a light tailor like you would break my back in two. Let me go until I have grown strong. A time may come when I can reward you." "Run along," said the tailor. "I see you are still a giddy thing." He gave it a tap on the back with a switch.

The foal kicked up its hind legs for joy, leaped over hedges and ditches, and galloped away into the open countryside.

But the little tailor had eaten nothing since the day before. "The sun fills my eyes," he said, "but bread does not fill my mouth. The first thing that comes my way that is even half edible will have to suffer." Just then, a stork stepped solemnly over the meadow toward him.

"Halt, halt!" cried the tailor, and seized it by the leg. "I don't know if you are good to eat, but my hunger leaves me no choice. I must cut off your head and roast you." "Don't do that," replied the stork.

"I am a sacred bird that brings mankind great profit, and no one does me harm. Leave me my life, and I may do you good in some other way." "Well, be off, cousin Long-legs," said the tailor. The stork rose up, let its long legs hang down, and flew gently away.

"What will become of this?" said the tailor to himself. "My hunger grows greater and my stomach emptier. Whatever comes my way now is lost." At that moment, he saw a couple of young ducks swimming on a pond.

"You come just at the right moment," he said, and grabbed one of them, about to wring its neck. Then an old duck hidden among the reeds began to scream loudly and swam toward him with her beak open, begging him urgently to spare her dear children.

"Can't you imagine," she said, "how your mother would mourn if anyone wanted to carry you off and give you your finishing stroke?" "Just be quiet," said the good-natured tailor. "You shall keep your children." And he put the prisoner back into the water.

When he turned around, he was standing in front of an old hollow tree and saw some wild bees flying in and out. "There I will find the reward of my good deed," said the tailor. "The honey will refresh me." But the queen bee came out, threatened him, and said, "If you touch my people and destroy my nest, our stings will pierce your skin like ten thousand red-hot needles. But if you leave us in peace and go your way, we will do you a service another time."

The little tailor saw that nothing was to be done here either. "Three dishes empty and nothing on the fourth is a bad dinner!" He dragged himself with his starved stomach into the city. As it was just striking twelve, everything was ready cooked for him at the inn, and he sat down at once to dinner.

When he was satisfied, he said, "Now I will get to work." He went around the city, sought a master, and soon found a good position. Because he had thoroughly learned his trade, it was not long before he became famous.

Everyone wanted to have his new coat made by the little tailor, whose importance increased daily. "I can go no further in skill," he said, "and yet things improve every day." At last, the king appointed him court tailor.

But how things happen in the world! On that very same day, his former comrade the shoemaker also became court shoemaker. When the shoemaker saw the tailor and noticed that he once again had two healthy eyes, his conscience troubled him.

"Before he takes revenge on me," he thought, "I must dig a pit for him." But he who digs a pit for another falls into it himself. In the evening, when work was over and it had grown dark, he sneaked to the king and said, "Lord King, the tailor is an arrogant fellow and has boasted that he will get back the golden crown that was lost long ago." "That would please me very much," said the king, and he had the tailor brought before him the next morning and ordered him to get the crown back or leave the city forever.

"Oho!" thought the tailor. "A rogue gives more than he has. If the surly king wants me to do what no one can do, I will not wait until morning but will leave the city today." He packed his bundle, but when he was outside the gate, he could not help feeling sorry to give up his good fortune and turn his back on the city where things had gone so well.

He came to the pond where he had met the ducks. Just then, the old duck whose young ones he had spared was sitting there by the shore, preening her feathers with her beak. She recognized him at once and asked why he was hanging his head.

"You will not be surprised when you hear what has happened to me," replied the tailor, and told her his story. "If that is all," said the duck, "we can help you. The crown fell into the water and lies at the bottom. We will soon bring it up for you.

In the meantime, just spread your handkerchief on the bank." She dived down with her twelve ducklings, and in five minutes she came up again with the crown resting on her wings. The twelve ducklings swam around and put their beaks under it to help carry it.

They swam to the shore and placed the crown on the handkerchief. No one can imagine how magnificent it was; when the sun shone on it, it gleamed like a hundred thousand rubies. The tailor tied his handkerchief together by the four corners and carried it to the king, who was full of joy and put a gold chain around the tailor's neck.

When the shoemaker saw that the first trick had failed, he thought of another and went to the king. "Lord King," he said, "the tailor has become insolent again. He boasts that he will copy the entire royal palace in wax, with everything in it, loose or fixed, inside and out." The king sent for the tailor and ordered him to copy the whole royal palace in wax, with everything that pertained to it, movable or immovable, within and without. If he did not succeed, or if even one nail on the wall was missing, he would be imprisoned for life underground.

The tailor thought, "It gets worse and worse! No one can endure that!" He threw his bundle on his back and went out. When he came to the hollow tree, he sat down and hung his head.

The bees came flying out, and the queen bee asked if he had a stiff neck since he held his head so crooked. "Alas, no," answered the tailor. "Something quite different weighs me down." He told her what the king had demanded.

The bees began to buzz and hum among themselves, and the queen bee said, "Just go home again. Come back tomorrow at this time and bring a large sheet with you. Then all will be well." So he went back.

The bees flew to the royal palace, straight in through the open windows, crept around into every corner, and inspected everything carefully. Then they hurried back and modeled the palace in wax with such speed that anyone watching would have thought it was growing before their eyes. By evening, everything was ready.

When the tailor came the next morning, the whole splendid building was there, not a nail on the wall or tile on the roof was missing. It was delicate, white as snow, and smelled sweet as honey.

The tailor wrapped it carefully in his cloth and took it to the king, who could not admire it enough. He placed it in his largest hall and gave the tailor a large stone house in return.

The shoemaker, however, did not give up. He went a third time to the king and said, "Lord King, it has come to the tailor's ears that no water springs up in the courtyard of the castle, and he has boasted that he will make water rise in the middle of the courtyard to a man's height, clear as crystal." Then the king ordered the tailor to be brought before him and said, "If a stream of water does not rise in my courtyard by tomorrow as you have promised, the executioner shall make you shorter by the head right there." The poor tailor did not take long to think.

He hurried out to the gate, and because this time it was a matter of life and death, tears rolled down his face. As he went forth full of sorrow, the foal he had set free, now a beautiful chestnut horse, came leaping toward him.

"The time has come," it said, "when I can repay you for your good deed. I know what you need. Get on me; my back can carry two like you." The tailor's courage returned. He jumped up in one bound, and the horse went full speed into the city, straight to the castle courtyard.

It galloped like lightning three times around, and the third time it fell violently down. At that same instant, a terrific clap of thunder sounded. A piece of earth in the middle of the courtyard sprang into the air like a cannonball and over the castle, and right after it, a jet of water rose as high as a man on horseback.

The water was as pure as crystal, and the sunbeams danced on it. When the king saw this, he arose in amazement, went and embraced the tailor in the sight of all.

But good fortune did not last long. The king had many daughters, each prettier than the last, but no son. So the malicious shoemaker went to the king a fourth time and said, "Lord King, the tailor has not given up his arrogance.

He has now boasted that if he liked, he could bring you a son through the air." The king commanded the tailor to be summoned and said, "If you bring me a son within nine days, you shall have my eldest daughter as your wife." "The reward is indeed great," thought the little tailor.

"One would willingly do something for it, but the cherries grow too high for me. If I climb for them, the branch will break and I will fall."

He went home, sat cross-legged on his worktable, and thought about what to do. "It can't be done," he cried at last. "I will go away. After all, I cannot live in peace here." He tied up his bundle and hurried to the gate.

When he reached the meadow, he saw his old friend the stork walking back and forth like a philosopher. Sometimes he stood still, looked closely at a frog, and finally swallowed it. The stork came up and greeted him. "I see," the stork began, "that you have your pack on your back.

Why are you leaving the city?" The tailor told him what the king had demanded and how he could not do it, lamenting his misfortune. "Don't let your hair turn gray over that," said the stork. "I will help you out of your difficulty.

For a long time now, I have carried babies in swaddling clothes into the city. So for once, I can fetch a little prince from the well. Go home and be at ease. In nine days, come to the royal palace, and I will be there." The little tailor went home, and at the appointed time he was at the castle.

Before long, the stork came flying and tapped at the window. The tailor opened it, and cousin Long-legs came carefully in and walked with solemn steps over the smooth marble pavement. He had a baby in his beak that was as lovely as an angel, stretching out its little hands to the queen.

The stork laid it in her lap. She caressed it, kissed it, and was beside herself with delight. Before the stork flew away, he took his traveling bag off his back and handed it to the queen.

In it were little paper parcels with colored candies, and they were divided among the little princesses. The eldest, however, got none of them, but got the merry tailor as a husband. "It seems to me," said he, "as if I have won the highest prize. My mother was right after all.

She always said that whoever trusts in God and has good luck can never fail."

The shoemaker had to make the shoes in which the little tailor danced at the wedding feast. After that, he was ordered to leave the city forever. The road to the forest led him to the gallows. Worn out with anger, rage, and the heat of the day, he threw himself down. When he closed his eyes and was about to sleep, the two crows flew down from the heads of the hanged men and pecked out his eyes. In his madness, he ran into the forest and must have died there of hunger, for no one ever saw or heard of him again.