Now it happened that his father said to him one day:  “Hearken, you there in the corner; you are growing big and strong, and you must learn to earn your own bread.  Look at your brother, what pains he takes; but all the money I’ve spent on your education is thrown away.”  “My dear father,” he replied, “I will gladly learn—­in fact, if it were possible I should like to learn to shudder; I don’t understand that a bit yet.”  The eldest laughed when he heard this, and thought to himself:  “Good heavens! what a ninny my brother is! he’ll never come to any good; as the twig is bent, so is the tree inclined.”  The father sighed, and answered him:  “You’ll soon learn to shudder; but that won’t help you to make a living.”

Shortly after this, when the sexton came to pay them a visit, the father broke out to him, and told him what a bad hand his youngest son was at everything:  he knew nothing and learned nothing.  “Only think! when I asked him how he purposed gaining a livelihood, he actually asked to be taught to shudder.”  “If that’s all he wants,” said the sexton, “I can teach him that; just you send him to me, I’ll soon polish him up.”  The father was quite pleased with the proposal, because he thought:  “It will be a good discipline for the youth.”  And so the sexton took him into his house, and his duty was to toll the bell.  After a few days he woke him at midnight, and bade him rise and climb into the tower and toll.  “Now, my friend, I’ll teach you to shudder,” thought he.  He stole forth secretly in front, and when the youth was up above, and had turned round to grasp the bell-rope, he saw, standing opposite the hole of the belfry, a white figure.  “Who’s there?” he called out, but the figure gave no answer, and neither stirred nor moved.  “Answer,” cried the youth, “or begone; you have no business here at this hour of the night.”  But the sexton remained motionless, so that the youth might think that it was a ghost.  The youth called out the second time:  “What do you want here?  Speak if you are an honest fellow, or I’ll knock you down the stairs.”  The sexton thought:  “He can’t mean that in earnest,” so gave forth no sound, and stood as though he were made of stone.  Then the youth shouted out to him the third time, and as that too had no effect, he made a dash at the spectre and knocked it down the stairs, so that it fell about ten steps and remained lying in a corner.  Thereupon he tolled the bell, went home to bed without saying a word, and fell asleep.  The sexton’s wife waited a long time for her husband, but he never appeared.  At last she became anxious, and woke the youth, and asked:  “Don’t you know where my husband is?  He went up to the tower in front of you.”  “No,” answered the youth; “but someone stood on the stairs up there just opposite the trap-door in the belfry, and because he wouldn’t answer me, or go away, I took him for a rogue and knocked him down.  You’d better go and see if it was he; I should be much distressed if it were.”  The wife ran and found her husband who was lying groaning in a corner, with his leg broken.