7
"Thou art a fool," the old man said;
"Thou hast not half acquired thy trade.
My mill to thee I will not give,
For by such toll no man may live."
8
Then he call'd up his youngest son,
Says he, "My glass is almost run.
If I to thee my mill shall make
Tell me what toll, to live, thou'lt take?"
9
"Father I am your youngest boy.
In taking toll is all my joy.
Before I would good living lack,
I'd take the whole—forswear the sack."
10
"Thou art the boy," the old man said,
"For thou hast full acquired the trade.
The mill is thine," the old man cried,
He laugh'd, gave up the ghost, and died.