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 ing him? But it’s this: all day long thou art hovering over that blessed world, and there thou keepest sniff-snuffing that man’s flesh; and so no wonder, when thou comest home in the evening, if the smell still haunts thee.” To this the old man said nothing, and sat down to supper.

After supper he laid his golden head in the grandmother’s lap and began to snooze. When the grandmother saw that he had already fallen asleep, she drew out a single golden hair and threw it on the ground; it rang out like a harp-string. “What wouldst thou of me, little mother?” said the old man. “Nothing, little son, nothing! I was dozing, and had such a strange dream.” “And what did you fancy?” “I fancied I saw a city; they had there a spring of living water; when any one was dying and drank of it, he got well again, and if he were dead, and they sprinkled him with this water, he came to life again. But these twenty years the water has ceased to flow. Is there any way to make it flow again?” “Nothing easier. In this well, at the source, sits a frog, and does not let the water flow. Let them kill the frog, and clean out the well; the water will again flow as before.” When, after this, the old man fell asleep again, the grandmother drew out another of his golden hairs, and threw it on the ground. “What’s the matter with thee this time, little mother?” Nothing, little son, nothing. I dozed off, and again fancied something so strange. Methought there was a city, and they had an apple tree there. It bore rejuvenating apples; when any one grew old and ate one, he grew young again. But now these twenty years the apple tree has borne no fruit. Is there any help?” “Easy help. Under the apple tree lies a snake which gnaws away its strength. Let them kill the snake and transplant the apple tree; it will bear fruit again as before.” After this, the old man soon fell asleep again, and the grandmother drew from his head the third golden hair. “Why won’t you let me sleep, little mother?” said the old man crossly, and wished to get up. “Lie down, little son, lie down! Don’t be angry, I didn’t mean to wake you. But a drowsiness came over me, and I again had such a very strange dream. Methought I saw a ferryman on a black sea. For twenty years he has now been ferrying there, and no one comes to got him free. When will be the end of his serfdom?” “Noodle of a mother that I am the son of! Let him put the oar into another’s two hands and himself jump out on to the beach. This other will then be ferryman in his place. But now let me rest in peace at last.