There was nothing to be done; the peasant could not shake himself free from Woe. So he took the cart and the sledge, dragged them to the pot-house, and there he and Woe drank them away. Next morning Woe began groaning more than ever, and invited the master of the house to go and drink off the effects of the debauch. This time the peasant drank away his plough and his harrow. A month hadn't passed before he had got rid of everything he possessed. Even his very cottage he pledged to a neighbor, and the money he got that way he took to the pot-house. Yet another time did Woe come close beside him and say: "Let us go, let us go to the pot-house!" "No, no, Woe! it's all very well, but there's nothing more to be squeezed out." "How can you say that? Your wife has got two petticoats: leave her one, but the other we must turn into drink." The peasant took the petticoat, drank it away, and said to himself: "We're cleaned out at last, my wife as well as myself. Not a stick nor a stone is left!" Next morning Woe saw, on waking, that there was nothing more to be got out of the peasant, so it said: "Master!" "Well, Woe?" "Why, look here. Go to your neighbor, and ask him to lend you a cart and a pair of oxen." The peasant went to the neighbor's. "Be so good as to lend me a cart and a pair of oxen for a short time," says he. "I'll do a week's work for you in return." "But what do you want them for?" "To go to the forest for firewood." "Well then, take them; only don't overburthen them." "How could you think of such a thing, kind friend!" So he brought the pair of oxen, and Woe got into the cart with him, and away he drove into the open plain. "Master!" asks Woe, "do you know the big stone on this plain?" "Of course I do." "Well then if you know it, drive straight up to it." They came to the place where it was, stopped, and got out of the cart. Woe told the peasant to lift the stone; the peasant lifted it, Woe helping him. Well, when they had lifted it there was a pit underneath chock full of gold. "Now then, what are you staring at!" said Woe to the peasant, "be quick and pitch it into the cart." The peasant set to work and filled the cart with gold; cleared the pit to the very last ducat. When he saw there was nothing more left: "Just give a look, Woe," he said; "isn't there some money left in there?" "Where?" said Woe, bending down; "I can't see a thing." "Why there; something is shining in yon corner!" "No, I can't see anything," said Woe. "Get into the pit; you'll see it then." Woe jumped in: no sooner had it got there than the peasant closed the mouth of the pit with the stone. "Things will be much better like that," said the peasant: "if I were to take you home with me, O Woeful Woe, sooner or later you'd be sure to drink away all this money, too!"