The Poor Boy in the Grave

Once upon a time there was a poor shepherd boy whose father and mother were dead. The authorities placed him in the house of a rich man who was supposed to feed him and bring him up. But the man and his wife had evil hearts. They were greedy and anxious about their riches, and they became angry whenever anyone put a single bite of their bread into his mouth. The poor boy could do what he liked—he got little to eat, but only so many more blows.

One day he had to watch a hen and her chicks. But the hen ran through a hedge with them, and a hawk swooped down instantly and carried her off through the air. The boy shouted, “Thief! thief! rascal!” with all his might. But what good did that do? The hawk did not bring back its prey. The man heard the noise and ran to the spot. As soon as he saw that his hen was gone, he flew into a rage and beat the boy so badly that he could not move for two days.

Then the boy had to take care of the chicks without the hen. But now his trouble was greater, for one chick ran here and another there. He thought he was doing a very clever thing when he tied them all together with a string, because then the hawk would not be able to steal any of them.

But he was very much mistaken. After two days, worn out from running around and hunger, he fell asleep. The hawk came and seized one of the chicks, and because the others were tied fast to it, it carried them all off together. It perched on a tree and devoured them.

The farmer was just coming home, and when he saw the disaster, he got angry and beat the boy so mercilessly that he had to lie in bed for several days.

When the boy was on his feet again, the farmer said to him, “You are too stupid for me. I cannot make a herdsman out of you. You must go as an errand boy.” Then he sent him to the judge, to whom he was to carry a basket full of grapes.

He also gave him a letter. On the way, hunger and thirst tormented the unhappy boy so badly that he ate two bunches of grapes. He took the basket to the judge, but when the judge read the letter and counted the bunches, he said, “Two clusters are missing.” The boy confessed honestly that, driven by hunger and thirst, he had eaten the two that were missing.

The judge wrote a letter to the farmer and asked for the same number of grapes again. The boy had to take these also to the judge with a letter. Again he was so terribly hungry and thirsty that he could not help it and ate two bunches.

But first he took the letter out of the basket, put it under a stone, and sat down on it so that the letter would not see and betray him. The judge again made him explain about the missing bunches. “Oh,” said the boy, “how do you know that?

The letter could not know about it, because I put it under a stone before I did it.” The judge could not help laughing at the boy’s simplicity, and sent the man a letter in which he warned him to take better care of the poor boy and not let him go hungry and thirsty, and also that he should teach him right from wrong.

“I will soon show you the difference,” said the hard man. “If you want to eat, you must work. And if you do anything wrong, you will be thoroughly taught by blows.”

The next day he gave him a hard task. He was to chop two bundles of straw for the horses’ food. Then the man threatened, “I will be back in five hours. If the straw is not cut to chaff by then, I will beat you until you cannot move a limb.” The farmer went with his wife, the servant, and the girl to the yearly fair.

He left nothing for the boy but a small piece of bread. The boy sat down on a bench and began to work with all his might. As he got warm, he took off his little coat and threw it on the straw.

In his fear that he would not finish in time, he kept cutting constantly. In his haste, without noticing, he chopped his little coat as well as the straw. He realized the disaster too late; there was no fixing it. “Oh,” he cried, “now everything is over for me!

The mean man did not threaten me for nothing. If he comes back and sees what I have done, he will kill me. Rather than that, I will take my own life.”

The boy had once heard the farmer’s wife say, “I have a pot of poison under my bed.” But she had only said that to keep away greedy people, for it was honey. The boy crept under the bed, brought out the pot, and ate everything inside.

“I don’t know,” he said, “people say death is bitter, but it tastes very sweet to me. No wonder the farmer’s wife has often longed for death.” He sat down in a little chair and prepared to die. But instead of becoming weaker, he felt strengthened by the nourishing food.

“It cannot have been poison,” he thought. “But the farmer once said there was a small bottle of fly poison in the box where he keeps his clothes. That, no doubt, will be the real poison and bring me death.” But it was not fly poison; it was Hungarian wine.

The boy took out the bottle and emptied it. “This death tastes sweet too,” he said. But soon after, when the wine began to go to his head and make him drowsy, he thought his end was near. “I feel that I must die,” he said.

“I will go away to the churchyard and find a grave.” He staggered out, reached the churchyard, and lay down in a newly dug grave. He lost his senses more and more. Nearby there was an inn where a wedding was being celebrated.

When he heard the music, he thought he was already in Paradise, until at last he lost all consciousness. The poor boy never woke again. The heat of the strong wine and the cold night dew took his life, and he stayed in the grave where he had laid himself.

When the farmer heard the news of the boy’s death, he was terrified. Afraid of being brought to justice, his distress took such a powerful hold on him that he fell fainting to the ground. His wife, who was standing at the hearth with a pan of hot fat, ran to help him. But the flames leaped against the pan, the whole house caught fire, and in a few hours it lay in ashes. The rest of their years they lived in poverty and misery, tormented by their guilty consciences.