ears were so sharp that he could hear the worm
boring in the ground. He was waited on by
two eagles, whom he sent out whenever he
heard anybody come by. No one ever went by
who could help it, and all who did go, took care
to take off their shoes and tread on tiptoe,
scarcely daring to breathe, till they were a long
way on the other side.

So when Mylio came, trotting along, the
ogre heard him miles off, and cried, " Come,
my eagles, red and white; I must have that
fine fellow for my supper."

Down swooped trie eagles, and, catching
Mylio by his cloak, flew up with him to the
ogre's den.

Tonyk just came up in time to see his brother
disappear in the clouds; but it was no use
crying out, and when he looked at the mountain-side,
as steep as any wall, it seemed hopeless
to climb; so he knelt down and prayed
Almighty God to save his brother.

"Don't trouble Him about such a trifle,"
said three strange little voices, which seemed
to come from close by.

"Who spoke? Who and where are you?"
cried he.

"Look in your pocket," replied the three
voices.

The end of it was, that the spider begins to
spin a ladder strong and polished like steel; it
fastens one end to a tree, and, getting on the
dragon-fly's back, is slowly carried up as the
work goes on. Tonyk follows, the wasp buzzing
round his head.

At last they get to the ogre's cave. He has
Mylio ready trussed, and is cutting up fat bacon
to fry him with, singing all the time:

I like the flesh of a Leon man,
He eats as much fat meat as he can;
The men of Trequir, too, will do for me,
They're fed on new milk and furmity;
But Cornwall people* and men of Vannes,
With their buckwheat bread, digest them who can?

The two eagles were getting the spit ready
and making up the fire. So glad was the giant
at the prospect of supper, that he went on
singing without hearing Tonyk's footsteps.
The red eagle first saw the intruder, and rushed
at him, but the wasp stung him in both eyes
with his diamond sting; he treated the white
eagle in the same way, and then flew at the
ogre, and began stinging him remorselessly
about the head. He roared out like a mad
bull, and kept swinging his arms like a windmill;
but he could never touch the wasp, and
having no feet, he could not run away. At last,
in his agony, he threw himself, face downwards,
on the ground; but the moment he had done
so, the spider began to weave about him her
wonderful web. He called his eagles, but they,
seeing that his power was gone, fell upon him,
and tore his flesh away piecemeal. Their treachery,
however, did them no good; for when,
full-fed, they lay down on the carcase, they
presently burst asunder, for ogre's flesh is by
no means wholesome fare.

*Cornouailles, the district.

Of course Tonyk untied his brother, and
they went together to the edge of the rock.
"How could they get down?" "While they
were pondering, the dragon-fly and wasp grew
as big as horses, the little cage of rushes became
a fine coach, the spider jumped up behind
in full livery, and off they drove " along the
way where the roads are always in good
order."

They soon came to their uncle's castle.
There, by the drawbridge, stood both their
horses, and at Tonyk's saddle-bow hung his
purse, grown seven times bigger, and his cloak
all embroidered with diamonds. The lad turned
round to ask what it all meant, when lo! instead
of wasp, and spider, and fly, he saw three
glorious angels, one of whom said:

"Fear not, good-hearted boy: the three
whom you met were the Virgin Mary, the
Saviour, and St. Joseph. Let what has
happened be a life-long lesson to you both, and
teach you what the Lord meant when He said:
' Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the
least of these my little ones, ye have done it unto
me.'"

After which words the angels spread their
wings, and went up, singing, into heaven; and
Mylio fell on his brother's neck, and confessed
how much he had been in the wrong, and made
promises and resolutions for the future.

But to turn for a while from the ideal to the
real. What was the stuff of which our old
British forefathers made their tartans? For
we shall surely not give in to the base Roman
calumny, so greedily adopted by the southron,
that their summer wear was a light coat of blue
paint, while in winter they had nothing better
than wolf-skin or leather. Was it woollen or
was it linen? We have Welsh flannel and Irish
linen—though they tell us that the latter dates
no further back than Orange-William's time,
and was given by him instead of the old woollen
—the frieze, of which our Princess Alexandra,
God bless her! now wears a jacket, but of which
the English protectionists of that day were
jealous. As to Flemings in Wales, the North
Welsh fabric—the "Welsh flannel" of commerce
—was never learnt from them; while the
less-known worsted stuff of South Wales, so
like some of the coarser tweeds, is made chiefly
in little mountain villages, where Fleming from
Pembroke or Gower never reached. So that we
incline to think woollen the original Celtic wear.
The very word " flannel" is given by philologists
as one of the very few belonging to the
old language which still survive. The only
difficulty is that in the whole of Armorica, probably,
not a yard of flannel is manufactured.
We all know how little there is of it in France
in general; how it is recognised as a foreign,
an English production; how that the surest
way to win a French servant's gratitude is by
the gift of an old flannel petticoat. In Brittany
it is rarer still: among the people you scarcely
ever find a blanket; even well-to-do farmers
have often nothing but a coverlet of haircloth
or coarse tow-yarn. Winter and summer the