Why The Sea Is Salt. Once, in the old, old days, there were two brothers, one was rich and the other waspoor. When it was Christmas Eve, the poor brother hadn't a crumb of food in the house neither clabber nor bread - and so he went to his brother and begged for a little food for Christmas. It certainly wasn't the first time the brother had had to give him something; but he was always stingy, and he didn't grow any fonder of him this time, either. "If you'll do what I ask you, you'll get a whole ham," he said. The poor wretch promised on the spot, and thanked him into the bargain. "There it is. Now go straight to the Devil!" said the rich one, and flung the ham at him. "Well, whatever promise I've made I'll have to keep," said the other. He took the ham and set out on the way. He walked and he walked the whole day, and at nightfall he came to a place all splendid lighted up. "This is the place," thought the man with the ham. Out in the woodshed stood an old man with a long white beard, chopping wood for Christmas. "Good evening!" said the man with the ham. "Good evening, yourself!" Where are you off to so late?" said the old fellow "Why, I'm going to the Devil, if I'm on the right road," replied the poor man. "Oh you've gone right enough, for here you are," said the other. "Now when you go inside, they'll all want to buy your ham, for it's uncommon fare here. But you're not to sell it unless you get the handmill, which stands behind the door, for it. Then, when you come out again, I'll teach you how to stop the mill. It's good for a little of everything, that mill is." Well, the man with the ham thanked him for his good advice, and knocked at the Devil's door. When he went in, everything happened just as the old man had said: all the devils, both big and small, swarmed around him like ants, and each one outbid the other for the ham. "To be sure, my old woman and I were going to have it for our Christmas dinner, but since you're so bent on having it, I dare say I'll just have to leave it with you," said the man. "But if I'm, going to sell it, I want the handmill behind the door over there." The devil was loath to part with the mill, and he haggled and bargained, but the man held out, and at last the Devil had to hand it over. When the man came out into the yard, he asked the old woodcutter how to stop the mill, and when he had learned that, he said his thanks and set out for home as fast he could; but still he didn't reach home before the clock struck twelve on Christmas Eve. "Where in the world have you been, then?" said the old woman. "Here I've been sitting hour and hour out, waiting and yearning, without so much as two sticks to lay in a cross under the pot of Christmas porridge!" "Oh, I couldn't get here ant sooner. I had a little of everything to fetch, and the way was long, too. But now you'll see!" He put the mill on the table, and bade it first grind out candles, then a cloth, and then food and ale, and all that was good for Christmas fare. And, according to what he said, the mill ground The old woman crossed herself again and again, and wanted to know where the man had got the mill from, but he wouldn't tell that. "It makes no difference where I got it. You see the mill is good, and the millstream

doesn't freeze over," said the man. Then he went on grinding out food and drink, and all kind of good things for Christmas and on the third day he invited his friends to come, for now he wanted to have a feast. When the rich brother saw all the things there were at the feast, he came wild with rage, for he begrudged his brother everything. "On Christmas Eve he was so poverty-stricken that he came to me and begged for a little in God's name. And now he's giving a party as if he were both count and king," he said. "But where in the devil did you get all your riches from?" he said to the brother. "Behind the door," said the man who owned the mill. He certainly wasn't going to account to his brother far that. But alter in the evening, when a little ale had gone to his head, he couldn't help himself, and he brought out the mill. "There you see what's brought me all my riches!" he said, and he had the mill grind out one thing after another. When the rich brother saw that, he wanted to have the mill at any cost, and at last he got it, too. But he had to give three hundred dalers for it, and the other was to keep it until haying time. "For if I have it that long, I can grind out food for many a year," he thought. In the interval you can be sure the mill didn't grow rusty, and when haying time came, the rich brother got it. But the other had taken good care not to teach him how to stop it. It was evening when the rich brother took the mill home, and the next morning he bade his wife go out and spread hay after the mowers. He would make lunch himself today, he said. When it was getting on toward lunchtime, he put the mill on the kitchen table. "Grind out herring and porridge, and do it both fast and well!" said the man. The mill started to grind out herring and porridge, first all the dishes and troughs full, and then all over the kitchen floor. The man fumbled with the mill, and tried to get it to stop, but for all he turned and prodded it, the mill kept on grinding, and in a little while the porridge reached so high that man was close to drowning. So he threw open the parlor door, but it wasn't long before the mill had ground the parlor full, too, and it was only in the nick of time that the man got hold of the doorknob down in the flood of porridge. It's safe to say he didn't stay long in the parlor once he got the door open. He rushed out, with herring and porridge pouring out after him over both yard and fields. Now the old woman, who was busy spreading hay, began to think that time was dragging on too long before lunch was ready. "If my man doesn't call us home, we'll have to go all the same. He certainly doesn't know much about cooking porridge. I'll have to help him," said the wife to the mowers. So they headed for home. But when they had gone a little way up over the hill, they met herring and porridge and bread, rushing and pouring Pellmell, and the man, himself, leading the flood. "If only there were a hundred bellies to each of you! But take care you don't drown in the porridge!" he cried, and lit out past them as though the Devil, himself, were at his heels, down to where the brother lived. He begged him, for goodness sake, to take back the mill that very minute. "If it grinds one more hour, the whole parish will drown in herring and porridge!" he said. But the brother wouldn't take it unless the other one paid him three hundred dalers more. So he had to pay. Now the poor brother had both money and hill, and it wasn't long before he put up a manor for himself much finer than the one the brother lived in. With the mill he ground out so much gold, that he covered the manor only with sheets of gold, and that manor stood close to the shore, so it shone and sparkled far out over the fjord. Now everyone who sailed past there wanted to drop in and pay his

respects to the rich man in the golden manor, and They all wanted to see that wonderful mill, for word of it had spread far and wide, and there was no one who had not heard of it. After a long time there also came a skipper who wanted to see the mill; he asked if it could grind out salt. Why yes, it could grind out salt, said the owner. When the skipper heard that, he determined to get the mill by force if need be, cost what it might; for if he had it, he thought, he'd get out of having to sail far away over sea and foam after cargoes of salt. At first the man wouldn't part with the mill, but the skipper begged and pleaded, and at last he sold it and got many, many thousands of dalers for it, too. When the skipper had put the mill on his back, he didn't stay there long for fear the man would change his mind; he had no time at all to ask how to stop the mill, but headed down to the skip as fast as he was able. And, when he had sailed a little distance out to sea, he brought the mill up on deck. "Grind salt, and do it both fast and well!" said the skipper. Well, the mill started grinding salt so fast that it spouted. When the skipper had the ship full he wanted to stop the mill; but no matter what he did, or how he handled it, the mill went on grinding just as fast as ever, and the pile of salt grew higher and higher, until at last the ship went down. And there sits the mill at the bottom of the sea, grinding away to this very day, And that is why the sea is salt.