One day his
mother said to him, "My son, thou shouldst go about among people, to get
thyself sharpened and rubbed down a little." "Yes, mother," says he;
"I'm off this moment." So he went to the village, and saw two men
threshing pease. He ran up to them, and rubbed himself now on one and
then on the other. "No nonsense!" cried the men. "Get away." But he
continued to rub himself on them, till at last they would stand it no
longer, and beat him with their flails so lustily that he could hardly
crawl home. "What art thou crying about, child?" asked his mother. He
related his misfortune. "Ah, my child," said she, "how silly thou art!
Thou shouldst have said to them, 'God aid you, good men! Do you wish me
to help you to thresh?' and then they would have given thee some pease
for thy trouble, and we should have had them to cook and eat." On
another occasion the noodle again went through the village, and met some
people carrying a dead man. "May God aid you, good men!" he exclaimed.
"Do you wish me to help you to thresh?" But he got himself well thrashed
once more for this ill-timed speech. When he reached home, he howled,
"They've felled me to the ground, beaten me, and plucked my beard and
hair!" and told of his new mishap. "Ah, noodle!" said his mother, "thou
shouldst have said, 'God give peace to his soul!' Thou shouldst have
taken off thy bonnet, wept, and fallen upon thy knees.
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