longest night in the year for the performance
of his incantation. His incantation is this:
he is to put a black tom-cat in a bag, and
bind the mouth of the bag round with a cord,
fastened with ninety-nine knots. Taking the
bag on his back, he must walk three times
round the church; and every time he comes
to the door, he must call to the sacristan
through the key-hole. The sacristan is the
Mr. D. who danced with the lady just now.
At the third time of asking, the sacristan
steps out, when the man asks him if he wants
to buy a hare. In that character he sells
the cat, and gets for it the magic dollar, but
he must take to his heels immediately. If
Mr. D. can untie the knots, let the cat out
of the bag, and overtake the man who sold
it as a hare, his dollar is exchanged for dolour,
equally everlasting.

Mr. D., of course, plays part in many
legends, and there is much pleasure derived
from tales which convert him from D. sharp
into D. flat. There was a peasant in Eiderstedt
(we are in Eiderstedt again) whose
house was burnt down. A little man, in a
grey coat, with a horse's foot, came to him in
his affliction, and told him not to be cast
down, as he wouldn't charge more than a
single soul for building him a new house
with a hundred windows in it. The peasant
accepted his tender, binding him to the
condition that the building was to be complete
next morning before cock-crow. The grey-
coated contractor was at once up to his chin
in bricks and mortar. Long before cock-crow
all was built, and the last window was being
put in, when the peasant, while his friend's
back was turned, screwed up his mouth and
began crowing, as much like a cock as
possible. Mr. D. turned round and laughed at
him; he was a great deal too sharp to be
deceived so clumsily. But there is a habit,
inveterate among cocks, of answering each
other's trumpets; and a cock, in an adjacent
barn, happening to be awake, slowly became
aware of some very bad crowing in his
neighbourhood, and thought it right to let his
neighbour see that he could manage things
a great deal better. So the cock answered
lustily from within the barn just as the architect
was putting the last pane into the last
window. He threw it down in a great pet
and disappeared: and ever since then, the
window has wanted that pane. It never has
been, never can be, and never will be put in.
At the same time the wind blows through the
hole so angrily, that all the chamber is kept
cleanly swept, and any goods or furniture
that any one may try to put into the room,
is immediately blown out through the door.

The gentleman who was outwitted as an
architect on this occasion, also acts as
schoolmaster, and now and then has some
unmanageable scholars. All pastors in Friesland
were thought, by the ignorant, to know
something of the black art; in the good old
times a very little knowledge gave to a man a
character for magic. Some pastors knew a
great deal of this art, which they had learnt
in the Black School, which the Black Doctor
himself teaches at a trifle less than a soul for
each pupil. The retaining of the soul by the
pupil is left in his power, if he adhere through
life to the fulfilment of some ridiculous or
troublesome condition. He must only shave
on a Saturday, or he must, all his life, wear
only one woollen under-waistcoat, or never
wear more than one garter. Pastor Fabricius
was one whose soul hung on a garter; a garter
was his tie to the old teacher; it was the
peppercorn-rent he paid for the command of
a wide magical domain. Traps are always
being laid for these people. Pastor Fabricius,
who knew where he was to go when he wore
two garters, could in no way be put off his
guard. If he saw in the morning two garters
lying naturally by his bed, he always left one.
The old schoolmaster would often take the
shape of a flea, to bite and torment the
maidservant while she was knitting the pastor's
stockings; so that he made her lose the
calculation of her stitches, and provide for her
master stockings, which were loose and wide,
and hung about his heels. That was the
reason why the learned pastor was so often
seen walking about the village with his
stockings down at heel. He was not to be
tempted.

Once upon a time, a lad and lass were
working in a hay-field, near the Stellerberg.
They were betrothed, and would have been
married, if they had not both been wretchedly
poor. While they worked, there was a toad
slipping quietly by. The young man saw it,
and was about to kill the poor reptile with
his hay-fork; but the girl held his hand, and
bade him not be cruel. He was quite willing
to obey her; but, because he liked to hear
her plead so tenderly, he held the fork some
time above the toad, as if about to strike,
until it had crawled out of reach. When they
went home that evening, their master told
them that they were invited to a christening
next day, by a voice that didn't leave any
address. Means were, however, found next
day to bring them both to a grand hall of
gold and precious stones, inside the Stellerberg,
where the dwarfs were: there was a
dwarf lady, and there was a baby, and there
was a costly feast. The young man was
desired to hold the baby at the font; while he
did so, he observed that a millstone hung
over his head, suspended from the ceiling by
a silken thread. He tried to move, but could
not stir a step. The ceremony appeared very
long; when it was over, he received thanks
from the master of the house. With respect
to the millstone, the gentleman told him that
he could now perfectly imagine what his wife
must have suffered on the previous day, when
he was about to stab her with his fork—for
she was the toad. The little people then
entertained the pair, and gave to the girl,
when they left, an apron-full of shavings. On