Once upon a time there lived a husbandman who had a son who, when he was born, was no bigger than the length of a thumb, and who for many years did not grow a hair’s breadth taller.

One morning, just as the countryman was about to set out to plow his field, little Thumbling said:

“Father, I want to go, too.”

“I dare say you do,” said the man; “but you are much better at home. If I took you out I should be sure to lose you.”

Thereupon Thumbling fell a-crying, and cried so much that at length his father picked him up and put him in his pocket and set forth to his work.

When they reached the fields the man took his son out and set him down on the ridge of a newly turned furrow, so that he might see the world around him. Then suddenly from over the mountains a great giant came striding toward them.

“See, son,” said the husbandman, “here is an ogre coming to fetch you away because you were naughty and cried this morning.”

And the words had scarcely passed his lips when, in two great strides, the giant had reached little Thumbling’s side and had picked him up in his great hands and carried him away without uttering a sound.

The poor father stood dumb with fear, for he thought he should never see his little son again.

The giant, however, treated little Thumbling very kindly in his house in the woods. He kept him warm in his pocket, and fed him so heartily and well that Thumbling became a young giant himself, tall, and broad.

At the end of two years the old giant took him out into the woods to try his strength.

“Pull up that birch-tree for a staff to lean upon,” he said, and the youth obeyed and pulled it up by the roots as if it had been a mere weed.

The old giant still thought he should like him to be stronger, so, after taking great care of him for another two years, they again went out into the wood. This time Thumbling playfully uprooted a stout old oak, and the old giant, well pleased, cried:

“Now you are a credit to me,” and took him back to the field where he first found him.

Here the young giant’s father happened to be just then plowing; so Thumbling went up to him and said:

“See, father, to what a great big man your son has grown!”

But the peasant was afraid.

“Be off with you! I don’t know you,” he cried.

“But really and truly, father, I am your son,” he said. “Let me take the plow, for I can guide it quite as well as you.”

The father very unwillingly let go of the plow, for he was afraid of the giant, and sat down to watch. Then Thumbling laid one hand on the plowshare and straightway drove it so deep into the ground that the peasant cried:

“Now you will do more harm than good, if you drive so deep into the earth.”

Thereupon the young giant unharnessed the horses and began to draw the plow himself, first saying:

“Now, father, get you home and tell mother to cook a hearty meal, while I just run round the field.”

And in a very short time he had done what the peasant would have taken two whole days to do.

When all was finished, he laid plow, horse, and harrow over his shoulders and carried them home as easily as though they were a truss of hay.

When he reached the house, he saw his mother sitting on a bench in the courtyard.

“Oh, who is this frightful monster of a man?” she cried.

“That is our son,” said her husband.

“I cannot believe that,” replied the woman, “for our child was a tiny little thing,” and she begged the young giant to go away.

However, he did not take any notice of what she said, for, after feeding the horse in the stable, he came into the kitchen and sat himself down upon the edge of the dresser.

“Mother, mother,” he said, “I am so hungry. Give me my dinner.”

“Here it is,” said his mother, and set two enormous dishes of smoking stew upon the table.

It would have been enough to last the husbandman and his wife for eight whole days, but the giant ate it all up in five minutes, and then asked if they could give him more. But the woman shook her head, and said they had no more in the house.

“Mother,” he said, “I am fainting with hunger. That was a mere bite.”

The woman was so frightened at this that she ran and made some more stew in the largest fish kettle.

“Ah,” sighed the young giant, “this is something like a meal!”

But when he had finished he still felt hungry, and said:

“Well, father, I can see I shall starve if I come here to live. I will go and seek my fortune in the wide world, if you can procure me a bar of iron so strong that I cannot break it across my knee.”

The peasant quickly harnessed his two horses to the wagon, and from the smithy in the village he fetched an iron bar so heavy that the horses could hardly drag it. This the giant tried across his knee. Snap! it cracked in half, like a twig.

Then the peasant took his wagon and four horses to the smithy and brought back as heavy a bar as they could carry. But in a second the giant had broken it into two pieces and tossed them each aside.

“Father,” he said, “I need a stronger one yet. Take the wagon and eight horses to the smithy, and fetch me back as heavy a one as they can draw.”

This the countryman did, and again the youth broke it in two as easily as if he had cracked a nut.

“Well, father, I see you cannot get me anything strong enough. I must go and try my fortune without it.”

So he turned blacksmith and journeyed for many miles, until he came to a village, where dwelt a very grasping smith, who earned a great deal of money, but who gave not a penny of it away.

The giant stepped into his forge and asked if by any chance he were in want of help.

“What wages do you ask?” said the smith, looking the young man up and down; for, thought he: “Here is a fine, powerful fellow, who surely will be worth his salt.”

“I don’t want money,” replied the giant. “But here’s a bargain: every fortnight, when you give your workmen their wages, I will give you two strokes across your shoulders. It will be just a little amusement for me.”

The cunning smith agreed very willingly, for, he thought, in this way he would save a great deal of money.

However, next morning when the new journeyman started work, with the very first stroke he gave the red-hot iron, it shivered into a thousand pieces, and the anvil buried itself so deep in the earth that he could not pull it out again.

“Here, fellow,” cried his master, “you won’t suit me; you are far too clumsy. I must put an end to our bargain.”

“Just as you please,” said the other, “but you must pay me for the work I have done, so I will just give you one little tap on the shoulder.”

With that he gave the greedy smith such a blow that it knocked him flying over four hay-ricks. Then, picking up the stoutest iron bar he could find for a walking-stick, he set forth once more on his travels.

Presently he came to a farmhouse, where he inquired if they were in need of a bailiff. Now, the farmer just happened to need a head man, so he was engaged at once upon the same terms as he had arranged with the old blacksmith.

Next morning the farm servants were to go and fell trees in the wood, but just as they were ready to start they found the new bailiff was still in bed and fast asleep.

They shook him and shouted at him, but he would not open his eyes; he only grumbled at them and told them to be gone.

“I shall have done my work and reached home long before you,” he said.

So he stayed in bed for another two hours, then arose, and after eating a hearty breakfast he started with his cart and horses for the wood.

There was a narrow pathway through which he had to pass just before entering the wood, and after he had led his horses through this he went back and built up a barrier of brambles and furze and branches so thick that no horse could possibly force its way through.

Then he drove on and met his fellow-servants just leaving the wood on their way home.

“Drive on, my friends,” he said, “and I will be home before you even now.”

Then he pulled up a giant elm by its roots just on the border of the woods, and laying it on his cart, he turned and quickly overtook the others.

There they were, staring helplessly at the great barricade which barred their path, just as he had expected to find them.

“Ha, ha!” he chuckled, “you might just as well have slept an hour or two longer, for I told you you would not get home before me.”

Then, shouldering the tree, the horse and the cart, he pushed a way through the barrier as easily as if he had been carrying a bag of feathers.

When he got back to the farm he showed his new walking-stick, as he called the tree, to his master.

“Wife,” said the farmer, “we have indeed found a capital bailiff, and if he does need more sleep than the others, he works much better.”

So the months rolled by, until a whole year had come and gone, and the time had arrived to pay the servants their wages. But the farmer was overcome with fright when he remembered the blows the giant had to give him. So he begged him to change his mind and accept his whole farm and lands instead.

“No,” said the giant, “I am a bailiff, and a bailiff I intend to remain, so you must pay me the wages we agreed upon.”

The farmer now obtained a promise that he would give him a fortnight to think the matter over, and he secretly assembled all his friends and neighbors to discuss what he should do.

The only thing they could suggest was to slay the bailiff, and it was arranged that he should be told to bring a cartload of millstones to the edge of the well, and then the farmer was to send him down to the bottom to clean it out. When the giant was safely at the bottom, all the friends and neighbors would come and roll the millstones down upon him.

Everything happened as had been planned, and when the bailiff was at the bottom of the well the millstones were rolled in. As each one fell, the water splashed over the top in a great wave.

It seemed impossible that the bailiff should not be crushed to death, but suddenly the neighbors heard him call out:

“I say, you up there, shoo away the chickens; they are scattering the gravel in my eyes!”

Then he quickly finished his task, and presently jumped out of the well with one of the millstones hanging round his neck.

“Have not I got a handsome collar?” he said.

Again the farmer was overcome with fear, and again he called together all his friends and relations. The only thing they could think of was to advise the farmer to send the bailiff to the haunted mill by night, and order him to grind eight bushels of corn. “For,” said they, “no man who has spent a night there has ever come out alive.”

So the bailiff went and fetched the corn from the loft. He put two bushels in his right-hand pocket, and two in his left, and the rest he carried in a sack across his shoulders.

When he reached the mill the miller told him it was haunted, and he had best come to grind his corn in the daytime if he did not wish to lose his life.

“Tush, tush!” said the giant. “Make haste and leave me alone. Come back in the morning, and I promise you will find me all safe and sound.”

Then he entered the mill and emptied his sacks into the hopper, and by twelve o’clock he had finished his work. Feeling a little weary, he sat down to rest, but noticed with great interest the door opening very slowly, all by itself.

Then a table laden with rich food and wines came and set itself before him. Still there was no living creature to be seen. Next the chairs came and placed themselves round the festive board, and then he noticed fingers handling the knives and forks and placing food upon the plates.

The giant soon got tired of watching this, and as he felt quite ready for a meal himself, he drew up his chair to the table and partook of a hearty repast.

Just as he finished he felt a breath of air blow out all the lights, and then a thundering blow fell upon his head.

“Well, I’m not going to put up with this,” he said. “If I feel any more taps like that one I will just tap back.”

Then a great battle raged, and blows fell thickly all around, but he never let himself feel any fear, but only gave back as many as he could.

When morning came the miller hastened to the mill expecting to find the giant dead, but he was greeted with a hearty laugh.

“Well, miller,” said the giant, “somebody has been slapping me in the night, but I guess they have had as good blows as they have given, and I have managed to eat a hearty supper into the bargain.”

The miller was overjoyed to find the evil spell had been broken, and begged the giant to accept some money as reward, but this he refused. Slinging the meal on his shoulders, he went back to ask his wages from the farmer.

The farmer was furious to see his bailiff safe and sound again, and paced his floor to and fro, shivering and shaking like a leaf. He felt he could not breathe, so he threw the window open, and before he knew what had happened the giant had sent him flying out of the window straight over the hills into Nowhere Land. And as the farmer had not waited to receive the second stroke, the giant gave it to his wife, and she flew out to join her husband, and for aught I know they are flying through the air still.