I could not make contended man

A Peasant was ploughing his field. He seems tired. Suddenly the devil appeared before him and said:

"Oh, poor man! you complain of your lot, and with justice; for your labour is not that of a man, but is as heavy as that of a beast of burden. Now I have made a promise that I shall find a contented man; so give me the handle of your plough and the goad of your oxen, that I may do the work for you."

The peasant agreed. The devil touched the oxen and in one turn of the plough all the furrows of the field wee opened up and the work finished.

"Is it well done?" asked the devil.

"Yes," replied the man,  "but seed is very expensive this year."

In response to this, the devil shook his long tail in the air, and lo, little seeds began to fall like hail from the sky.

"I hope," said the devil, "that I have gained my wager."

"Bah,: answered the peasant, "what's the good of that? These seeds might be lost. You do not take into consideration frost, blighting winds, drought, damp, storms, disease of plants, and other things. How can I judge as yet?"

"Behold," said the devil," in this box are both sun and rain, take it and use it as you please."

The peasant did so and to very good purpose, for his corn soon ripened and up to that time he had never seen so good a harvest. But the corn of his neighbours had also prospered from the rain and sun.

At harvest time the devil came, and saw that the man was looking with envious eyes at his neighobor's fields where the corn was as good as his own.

"Have you been able to obtain what you desired?" asked the devil.

"Alas!" answered the man, "all the barns will break down under the weight of the sheaves. The grain will be sold at a low price. This fine harvest will make me sit on ashes."

While he was speaking, the devil had taken an ear of corn from the ground and was crushing it in his hand, and as soon as he blew on the grains they all turned into pure gold. The peasant took up one and examined it attentively on all sides, and then in a despairing tone cried our: "Oh, my God! I must spend money to melt all these and send them to the mint."

The devil wrung his hands in despair. He lost his promise He could do everything, but he could not make a contended man.