[From Zwehrn. First published in the edition of 1819. About the Grimm Collection.]
There was a village in which lived none but rich farmers; only one was poor, and they called him the crofter. He didn’t even have a cow, still less the money to buy one, though he and his wife would so much like to have had one. Once upon a time he said to her, “Listen, I have a good idea. There’s our friend the cabinetmaker; he must make us a calf out of wood and paint it brown so as to look like any other calf. In time it’ll surely get good and big and become a cow.” The woman liked the idea, and with his plane friend cabinetmaker fashioned a proper calf, painted it brown, and made it so that it lowered its head as if eating.
Next morning when the cows were driven to pasture, the crofter called in the herdsman and said, “Look here, I’ve got a calf, but it’s still small and still has to be carried.” “All right,” said the herdsman, took it in his arms, carried it out to the pasture, and set it down in the grass. The calf stayed right there as if it were grazing, and the herdsman said, “It’ll soon be walking by itself; just see how it’s already eating.” In the evening when he was going to drive the herd home again, he said to the calf, “If you can stand on your legs and eat your fill, you can perfectly well walk on your four legs, too. I’ve no desire to carry you back home in my arms.” The crofter was standing outside his front door and waiting for his calf, so when the herdsman drove the animals through the village and the calf was missing, he enquired about it. “It’s still standing out there grazing,” answered the herdsman; “it wouldn’t stop and wouldn’t come along.” “My goodness!” said the crofter, “I’ve got to have my animal back.” Then together they returned to the pasture, but somebody had stolen the calf and it was gone. “It’s no doubt gone astray,” said the herdsman, but the crofter said. “That’s not good enough,” and took the herdsman to the magistrate, who for his negligence sentenced the former to give the crofter a cow for the calf that had got away.
Now the crofter and his wife had their long-wished-for cow. They were as happy as could be but had neither fodder nor anything else to give it, and so it soon had to be slaughtered. They cured the meat in salt, and the crofter went to town, intending to sell the hide there and buy a new calf with the proceeds. On the way he came to a mill where a raven was sitting with broken wings; out of pity he picked it up, wrapping it in the cowhide. Since the weather was getting very bad, with a strong wind and a driving rain, he couldn’t go on, turned into the mill, and asked for lodging. The miller’s wife was alone at home and said to the crofter, “Well, lie down on the straw,” and gave him some bread and cheese. The crofter ate it and lay down with his cowhide beside him, and the woman thought, “He’s tired and is asleep.” Meanwhile the priest arrived. The miller’s wife received him cordially, saying, “My husband’s gone out, so let’s give ourselves a treat.” The crofter was listening, and when he heard talk about a treat, was vexed that he’d had to be satisfied with bread and cheese. Then the woman set the table and served up four things: a roast, salad, cake, and wine.
As they were sitting down and were about to eat, there was a knock at the door. “Good heavens!” said the woman, “that’s my husband!” Quickly she hid the roast in the tile stove, put the wine under her pillow, the salad on the bed, the cake under the bed, and the priest in the cupboard in the entryway. Then she opened the door for her husband and said, “Thank God you’re home again; this is regular Doomsday weather.” The miller saw the crofter lying on the straw and asked, “What’s that fellow doing there?” “Alas,” said the woman, “the poor wretch came here in the storm and rain and asked for shelter, so I gave him some bread and cheese and a place on the straw.” The husband said, “I’ve no objection to that, but get me something to eat quick.” “I’ve nothing but bread and cheese,” said the wife. “I’ll be satisfied with anything,” answered the husband, “even with bread and cheese,” looked at the crofter and cried, “Come have something more to eat with me.”
The crofter didn’t have to be asked twice, got up, and joined him in the meal. Afterward the miller noticed on the floor the hide in which the raven was wrapped and asked, “What have you there?” “I’ve got a fortune-teller in it,” answered the crofter. “Can it tell my fortune, too?” said the miller. “Why not!” answered the crofter, “but it says only four things and keeps the fifth to itself.” The miller was curious and said, “Let it go ahead and fortune-tell.” Then the crofter squeezed the raven’s head so that it croaked and went “caw, caw.” “What did it say?” asked the miller. The crofter answered, “The first thing it said was that there’s wine under the pillow.” “The deuce!” cried the miller, went and found the wine. “Go on,” said the miller. The crofter again made the raven croak and said, “The second thing it said was that there’s a roast in the tile stove.” “The deuce!” cried the miller, went and found the roast. The crofter made the raven go on fortune-telling and said, “The third thing it said was that there’s salad on the bed.” “The deuce!” cried the miller, went and found the salad. Finally the crofter, squeezing the raven once again so that it made a noise, said, “The fourth thing it said was that there’s a cake under the bed.” “The deuce!” cried the miller, went and found the cake.
Now the two sat down together at table, but the miller’s wife was seized with a deadly fear, went to bed, and took all the keys with her. The miller would like to have known the fifth thing, too, but the crofter said, “Let’s first eat the four other things in peace, for the fifth is something bad.” So they ate and afterward dickered over what the miller should pay for the fifth prophecy, finally agreeing on three hundred dollars. Then the crofter once more squeezed the raven’s head so that it uttered a loud croak. “What did it say?” asked the miller. “It said,” answered the crofter, “that the Devil is in the cupboard out in the entryway.” “The Devil has got to get out,” said the miller and unlocked the front door. The wife was obliged to surrender the key, and the crofter unlocked the cupboard. Then the priest ran out as fast as he could, and the miller said, “I saw the Black Fellow with my own eyes; the raven was quite right.” Next morning the crofter cleared out at dawn with his three hundred dollars.
At home, the crofter’s situation gradually improved; he built a nice house, and the farmers said, “The crofter has surely been in the land where gold snow falls and where one carries money home by the bushel.” Then the crofter was summoned into the presence of the magistrate and was to tell where his wealth came from. “I sold my cowhide in town for three hundred dollars,” he answered. When the farmers heard that, they, too, wanted to profit by this, hurried home, killed all their cows and skinned them with a view to selling the hides in town at this big profit. The magistrate said, “My maid must go ahead of me, however.” When the latter got to the merchant in town, he gave her only three dollars per hide, and when the others arrived, he didn’t give them even that much, saying, “What can I do with all these hides?”
Now the farmers were vexed at having been tricked by the crofter, wanted to take vengeance on him, and lodged a complaint of fraud with the magistrate. By a unanimous verdict the innocent crofter was sentenced to death and was to be put in a cask full of holes and rolled into the water. He was taken out, and a priest was fetched to read a mass for his soul. All the others had to go away, and when the crofter looked at the clergyman, he recognized the priest who had been with the miller’s wife and said to him, “I freed you from the cupboard, you free me from the cask.” By chance a shepherd was driving a flock of sheep past, and the crofter knew that the latter had long wanted to become magistrate, so he shouted as loud as he could, “No, I won’t do it! Even if the whole world wanted me to, I won’t do it!” On hearing that, the shepherd came along and asked, “What’s up? What is it you won’t do?” “They want to make me magistrate if I’ll just get into the cask,” said the crofter, “but I’m not doing it.” “If that’s all there is to becoming magistrate,” said the shepherd, “I’d get into the cask at once.” “If you’re willing to get into it,” said the crofter, “you’ll also be magistrate.” The shepherd agreed, got in, and the crofter slammed on the head of the cask; then he took over the shepherd’s flock and drove it off. The priest, however, went to his congregation and said that the requiem had been read. Then they came and rolled the cask toward the water. When it started rolling, the shepherd called out, “I’m quite willing to become magistrate.” They had no idea but that it was the crofter who was crying out thus and said, “We think so, too, but first you’re going to have a look about down there,” and rolled the cask into the water.
Then the farmers went home, and as they entered the village, there was the crofter coming along, too, driving in a flock of sheep quite contentedly. “Crofter,” said the astonished farmers, “where are you coming from? from out of the water?” “Why, of course,” answered the crofter. “I sank deep, deep down, till at last I reached bottom; then I knocked out the head of the cask and crawled out. There were lovely meadows there with many lambs grazing on them, and I brought this flock from there.” “Are there still more there?” asked the farmers. “Why, yes,” said the crofter, “more than you can use.” Then the farmers agreed that they, too, were going to fetch themselves sheep, one flock apiece. “I come first!” said the magistrate. Now they went together to the water just when there were little woolly clouds in the blue sky that people call “little lambs” and which were reflected in the water. Then the farmers cried, “We can already see the sheep down on the bottom.” The magistrate pushed forward, saying, “Now I’ll go down first and take a look about. If everything is all right, I’ll call you.” Then he jumped in and the water went “plop,” and the others fancied that he was calling out “Come” to them, and the whole crowd plunged after him in a hurry.
Thus the village died out, and as sole heir the crofter became a wealthy man.