Axe Porridge

An old soldier was going home on leave. He was footsore and hungry. Coming to a village, he knocked at the door of the first hut. “May I come in and rest?” he asked.

An older woman opened the door.

“Come in, Soldier,” she said.

“Have you anything to eat, good wife?” The older woman had plenty of everything, but she was stingy and pretended she was poor.

“Ah, my good man, I haven’t had anything to eat myself since yesterday.” “Well, if you haven’t, you haven’t,” said the Soldier. He noticed an axe without a handle lying under the bench. “If there’s nothing else, an axe will do to make porridge of,” said

the Soldier. The older woman stared at him. “Porridge out of an axe ?”

“Why yes, you just give me a pot.” So the older woman brought a pot. The Soldier washed the axe, put It in the bank, poured some water and set it on fire.

The older woman’s eyes somewhat popped out of her head. The Soldier got out a spoon and began to stir the broth. Then he tasted it.

“It will soon be ready,” said the Soldier. “A pity I have no salt.”

“I have some,” said the old woman. “Here, salt it.” The Soldier salted it and tasted it again.

“A handful of groats would be just the thing,” he said.

The older woman brought a little bag of groats from the larder.

“Here. thicken it properly.” The Soldier cooked, stirred the meal, and then tasted it again.

The older woman could not take her eyes off him. “Ah, that’s a fine porridge,” said the Soldier. “If we had a bit of butter, it would be just the thing.” The older woman found some butter too.

They buttered the porridge. “Take a spoon, good wife.”

So they began to eat the porridge and could not praise it enough. “Well, well,” marvelled the old woman, “I never thought one could make such tasty porridge out of an axe.”

And the Soldier went on eating and laughing up his sleeve.