Honest Hans was thunderstruck, and exclaimed, “Ah, Heaven help me in this fresh trouble! you know the neighbourhood better than I do; do you take my pig and let me have your goose,” said he to the boy.

“I shall have to hazard something at that game,” replied the Boy, “but still I do not wish to be the cause of your meeting with misfortune;” and, so saying, he took the rope into his own hand, and drove the pig off quickly by a side-path, while Hans, lightened of his cares, walked on homeward with the goose under his arm.  “If I judge rightly,” thought he to himself, “I have gained even by this exchange:  first there is a good roast; then the quantity of fat which will drip out will make goose broth for a quarter of a year; and then there are fine white feathers, which, when once I have put into my pillow I warrant I shall sleep without rocking.  What pleasure my mother will have!”

As he came to the last village on his road there stood a Knife-grinder, with his barrow by the hedge, whirling his wheel round and singing: 

    “Scissors and razors and such-like I grind;
     And gaily my rags are flying behind.”

Hans stopped and looked at him, and at last he said, “You appear to have a good business, if I may judge by your merry song?”

“Yes,” answered the Grinder, “this business has a golden bottom!  A true knife-grinder is a man who as often as he puts his hand into his pocket feels money in it!  But what a fine goose you have got; where did you buy it?”

“I did not buy it at all,” said Hans, “but took it in exchange for my pig.”  “And the pig?” “I exchanged for my cow.”  “And the cow?” “I exchanged a horse for her.”  “And the horse?” “For him I gave a lump of gold as big as my head.”  “And the gold?” “That was my wages for a seven years’ servitude.”  “And I see you have known how to benefit yourself each time,” said the Grinder; “but, could you now manage that you heard the money rattling in your pocket as you walked, your fortune would be made.”

“Well! how shall I manage that?” asked Hans.

“You must become a grinder like me; to this trade nothing peculiar belongs but a grindstone; the other necessaries find themselves.  Here is one which is a little worn, certainly, and so I will not ask anything more for it than your goose; are you agreeable?”

“How can you ask me?” said Hans; “why, I shall be the luckiest man in the world; having money as often as I dip my hand into my pocket, what have I to care about any longer?”

So saying, he handed over the goose, and received the grindstone in exchange.

“Now,” said the Grinder, picking up an ordinary big flint stone which lay near, “now, there you have a capital stone upon which only beat them long enough and you may straighten all your old nails!  Take it, and use it carefully!”

Hans took the stone and walked on with a satisfied heart, his eyes glistening with joy.  “I must have been born,” said he, “to a heap of luck; everything happens just as I wish, as if I were a Sunday-child.”