the scissors I grind,
And my cloak hangs flowing free in the wind."

Hans remained standing, and watched him; at length he spoke to him,
and said:

"You must be doing well since you are so merry over your grinding."

"Yes," said the scissors-grinder; "the work has gold at the bottom of
it. A proper scissors-grinder is the sort of man who, whenever he puts
his hand in his pocket, finds money there. But where have you bought
that fine goose?"

"I did not buy it, but exchanged it for my pig."

"And the pig?"

"I obtained him for a cow."

"And the cow?"

"I had her for a horse."

"And the horse?"

"For him I gave a lump of gold as big as my head."

"And the gold?"

"Why, that was my reward for seven years of service."

"You have certainly done well for yourself each time," said the
scissors-grinder. "If you could only hear money rattling in your
pocket every time you got up, your fortune would be made."

"How shall I set about it?" said Hans.

"You must become a grinder, like me. All you want is a grindstone: the
rest comes of itself. I have one which is a little damaged indeed, but
for which I would ask nothing more than your goose; would that suit
you?"

"How can you ask me?" answered Hans. "I shall be the luckiest fellow
on earth. If I have money as often as I feel in my pocket, what else
shall I have to care about?" And he handed over the goose, and took
the grindstone in receipt.

"Now," said the grinder, lifting up an ordinary heavy field-stone,
which lay beside him. "There you have a capital stone, which will be
just the thing to hammer your old nails straight upon. Take it and
lift it up carefully."

Hans raised the stone and marched on with a joyful heart, his eyes
shining with pleasure.

"I must have been born lucky," he cried out. "All that I desire comes
to me, as to a Sunday-child."

Meanwhile, having been on his legs since daybreak, he began to feel
tired; besides which, he was tormented by hunger, for he had eaten up
all his provision in his joy over the exchange of the cow.

At length he could only proceed with great trouble and must needs stop
every minute; the stones, too, crushed him terribly. Then he could
not conceal the thought: "How nice it would be now to have nothing to
carry!"

Like a snail he crept up to a well, wishing to rest himself and enjoy
a refreshing drink.

In order not to spoil the stones in setting them down, he laid them
carefully on the ground one b