The host cried for mercy; but the louder he cried, so much more heavily
the cudgel beat the time on his back, until at length he fell to the
ground exhausted. Then the turner said, "If thou dost not give back
the table which covers itself, and the gold-ass, the dance shall begin
afresh." "Oh, no," cried the host, quite humbly, "I will gladly produce
everything, only make the accursed kobold creep back into the sack." Then
said the apprentice, "I will let mercy take the place of justice, but
beware of getting into mischief again!" So he cried, "Into the sack,
Cudgel!" and let him have rest.
Next morning the turner went home to his father with the wishing-table,
and the gold-ass. The tailor rejoiced when he saw him once more, and asked
him likewise what he had learned in foreign parts. "Dear father," said he,
"I have become a turner." "A skilled trade," said the father. "What hast
thou brought back with thee from thy travels?"
"A precious thing, dear father," replied the son, "a cudgel in the sack."
"What!" cried the father, "a cudgel! That's worth thy trouble,
indeed! From every tree thou can cut thyself one.
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