University of Virginia Library

XVII.
The Race between the Hare and the Hedgehog,
on the little Heath by Buxtehude[1]

FROM THE LOW GERMAN OF SCHRODER.

THIS story is a tough one to tell, youngsters, but
true it is for all that! for my grandfather, from
whom I have it, used always to say, when he told it:
“True must it be, my son, otherwise one could not tell it
so at all!” And this is the way the story ran:

'Twas on a plesant Sunday morning, toward harvest
time, just as the buckwheat blossomed. The sun had
gone brightly up into the heaven; the morning wind
swept warm over the stubble; the larks sang in the air;
the bees hummed in the buckwheat; the good folk went in
Sunday gear to church, and all creatures were happy, and
the hedgehog also.

The hedgehog stood before his door with his arms
folded, peeped out into the morning air, and chirruped a
little song to himself, just as good and just as bad as a
hedgehog is wont to sing on a pleasant Sunday morning.
And as he was singing to himself, in a cheery little voice,

all at once it came into his head he might just as well,
while his wife was washing and dressing the children,
take a little walk into the field to see how his turnips were
standing. Now the turnips were close to his house, and
he used to eat them with his family, so that he looked
upon them as his own. No sooner said than done. The
hedgehod shut the house-door to after him, and took his
way to the field. He had not gone very far from the
house, and was about to turn, just by the thorn bush which
stands there before the field, near the turnip patch, when
he met the hare, who had gone out on a similar business,
namely, to look after his cabbages. When the hedgehog
caught sight of the hare, he bid him a friendly “good
morning!” But the hare, who, in his own way, was a
mighty fine gentleman, and held his head very high,
answered nothing to the hedgehog's greeting, but said to
the hedgehog, putting on thereby a most scornful mien:

“How happens it, then, that thou art strolling about
here in the field so early in the morning?”

“I'm taking a walk,” said the hedgehog.

“Taking a walk?” laughed the hare, “methinks thou
mightest use those legs of thine for better things.”

This answer vexed the hedgehog hugely, for he could
stand almost anything, but his legs he did not like to
have spoken about, because they were crooked by nature.

“Thou thinkest, perhaps,” said the hedgehog to the
hare, “thou could'st do more with thine own legs!”

“That's what I do think,” said the hare.

“That depends upon the trial,” quoth the hedgehog.
“I bet that if we run a race together, I beat thee hollow!”

“That's quite laughable, thou with thy crooked legs,”
said the hare, “but I've nothing against it if thou art so
bent upon it. What's the bet?”

“A golden louis d'or and a bottle of brandy!” said the
hedgehog.

“Done,” said the hare, “fall in, and then it may come
off at once.”

“Nay, there's no such hurry,” said the hedgehog, “I'm
still quite hungry; I'll go home and get a bit of breakfast
first; within half an hour I'll be here again on the spot.”

With this the hedgehog went his way, for the hare was
also content.

On the way the hedgehog thought to himself:

“The hare trusts to his long legs, but I'll fetch him
for all that; he's a fine gentleman to be sure, but still
he's only a stupid fellow, and pay he shall!”

Now when the hedgehog came to his house, he said to
his wife: “Wife, dress thyself in my gear, quickly, thou
must go with me to the field.”

“What's all this about?” said his wife.

“I've bet the hare a golden louis d'or and a bottle of
brandy that I beat him in a race, and thou must be by.”

“O my husband!” began the hedgehog's wife to
cry, “art thou foolish? hast thou then quite lost thine
understanding? How canst thou wish to run a race with
the hare?”

“Hold thy mouth, wife,” said the hedgehog, “that's
my business; don't meddle with men's affairs. March!
dress thyself in my clothes, and then come along.”

What could the hedgehog's wife do? She had to follow
whether she would or no. When they were on the way
together, the hedgehog said to his wife: “Now listen to
what I have to say. See'st thou, on the long acre
yonder will we run our races. The hare runs in one
furrow and I in another, and we begin to run from up
there. Now thou hast nothing else to do than to take
thy place here in the furrow, and when the hare comes
up on the other side thou must call out to him: “I'm here
already!” With this they had reached the field; the
hedgehog showed his wife her place and went up the
furrow. When he got to the upper end the hare was
already there.

“Can we start?” said the hare.

`Yes, indeed!” said the hedgehog.

“To it then!” and with that each placed himself in his
furrow, and the hare counted one, two, three! and away
he went like a storm wind down the field. But the
hedgehog ran about three steps, and then ducked down
in the furrow and sat still.

When the hare, on the full bound, came to the lower
end of the field, the hedgehog's wife, called out to him.
“I'm here already!” The hare started and wondered
not a little; he thought not otherwise than that it was the
hedgehog himself that ran out to meet him; for, as every

one knows, the hedgehog's wife looks just like her husband.

But the hare thought: there's something wrong about
all this! Another race! At it again! And away he
went again like a storm wind, so that his ears lay flat on
his head. But the hedgehog's wife staid quietly in her
place. When the hare came to the upper end the hedgehog
called out to him, “I'm here already.” But the
hare, beside himself with rage, cried: “Another race! at
it again!”

“I'm quite willing,” answered the hedgehog, “just as
often as thou likest.”

So the hare ran thee and seventy times, and the hedgehog
held out to the very end with him. Every time the
hare came either below or above, the hedgehog or his wife
said “I'm here already!”

But the four and seventieth time the hare came no
more to the end. In the middle of the field he fell to the
earth and lay dead upon the spot.

So the hedgehog took the louis d'or and the bottle of
brandy he had won, called his wife out of the furrow, and
both went home together: and if they have not died,
they are living still. So happened it that on the Buxtehude
heath the hedgehog ran the hare to death, and since
that time no hare has ever dreamed of running a race
with a Buxtehude hedgehog.

But the moral of this story is, first; that no one, however
high and mighty he may think himself, shall let it

happen to him to make merry over an humble man, even
if he be a hedgehog; and secondly, that it is advisable,
when one marries, that he take a wife out of his own
condition, and who looks just like himself. He, therefore
that is a hedgehog, must look to it that his wife is also a
hedgehog; and so forth.