And half the money would replenish
Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish.
To pay this sum to a wandering fellow
With a gypsy coat of red and yellow!
"Beside," quoth the Mayor, with a knowing wink,
"Our business was done at the river's brink;
We saw with our eyes the vermin sink,
And what's dead can't come to life, I think.
So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink

From the duty of giving you something for drink,
And a matter of money to put in your poke;
But as for the guilders, what we spoke

Of them, as you very well know, was in joke.
Besides, our losses have made us thrifty;
A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty!"

The piper's face fell, and he cried,
"No trifling! I can't wait! beside,
I've promised to visit by dinner time
Bagdat, and accept the prime

Of the head cook's pottage, all he's rich in,
For having left, in the Caliph's kitchen,
Of a nest of scorpions no survivor,-
With him I proved no bargain-driver;
With you, don't think I'll bate a stiver!
And folks who put me in a passion
May find me pipe to another fashion."

"How?" cried the Mayor, "d'ye think I'll brook Being worse treated than a cook?

Insulted by a lazy ribald

With idle pipe and vesture piebald?

You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst,

Blow your pipe there till you burst!"

Once more he stept into the street;

And to his lips again

Laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane;
And ere he blew three notes (such sweet
Soft notes as yet musician's cunning
Never gave the enraptured air)

There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling
Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling;
Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering,
Little hands clapping, and little tongues chatter-
ing;

And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scat

tering,

Out came the children running;

All the little boys and girls,

With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls,

And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls,

Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after

The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.

The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood
As if they were changed into blocks of wood,
Unable to move a step, or cry

To the children merrily skipping by,-
And could only follow with the eye
That joyous crowd at the piper's back.
But how the Mayor was on the rack,
And the wretched Council's bosoms beat,
As the piper turned from the High Street
To where the Weser rolled its waters
Right in the way of their sons and daughters!
However, he turned from south to west,
And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed,
And after him the children pressed;

Great was the joy in every breast.
"He never can cross that mighty top!
He's forced to let the piping drop,

And we shall see our children stop!"
When lo, as they reached the mountain's side,
A wondrous portal opened wide,

As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed;

And the piper advanced and the children followed;
And when all were in, to the very last,

The door in the mountain-side shut fast.
Did I say all? No! One was lame,
And could not dance the whole of the way;
And in after years, if you would blame
His sadness, he was used to say,-

"It's dull in our town since my playmates left!
I can't forget that I'm bereft

Of all the pleasant sights they see,
Which the piper also promised me;
For he led us, he said, to a joyous land,
Joining the town and just at hand,

Where waters gushed and fruit trees grew,
And flowers put forth a fairer hue,

And everything was strange and new;

The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here,
And their dogs outran our fallow deer,
And honey-bees had lost their stings,
And horses were born with eagle's wings;
And just as I became assured

My lame foot would be speedily cured,

The music stopped and I stood still,
And found myself outside the Hill,
Left alone against my will,

To go now limping as before,
And never hear of that country more!"

FRITHIOF THE BOLD

Adapted by GRACE E. SELLON

NGEBORG was the favored child of King Bele of Sognland-favored not only by the king, but, it would seem, by the gods themselves; for while she possessed great beauty and a disposition of rare loveliness, her brothers,

Helge and Halfdan, were endowed neither with comeliness nor with the bravery and the gentler virtues of true princes. Indeed, King Bele seemed to have good cause for regarding Frithiof, the stalwart son of his loyal friend Thorsten, with greater affection than he bestowed upon his own sons, for Frithiof was fearless in danger and could surpass all other youths in feats of strength, yet was so mild-mannered and noblehearted that from the first he found great pleasure in the companionship of the little princess Ingeborg.

With so much satisfaction did King Bele look upon this comradeship that when Ingeborg was but a small child he gave her into the care of her foster-father, Hilding, under whose guardianship Frithiof also had been placed. Thus thrown constantly into each other's company, the youth and his child playmate found delight in daily expeditions through the forest and on the firth;' and rare times they had.

1. Firth, an arm of the sea.