were boiled a number of human heads, that were
likewise pecked by ravenous eagles. When he
had crossed over, he came to a village where
nothing was to be heard but music and
merriment, and on asking the cause of so much
joy, was informed that as every year brought
abundance, the villagers could not be otherwise
than happy. Somewhat further on, was another
village, where there was nothing but weeping
and lamentation, and he was informed that the
cause of grief was a hailstorm that every year
destroyed the produce of the land. Midway
between the two villages, he had seen two dogs
(of the female sex), who were tearing each other
to pieces, and whom he had vainly essayed to
part; on leaving the second village he came
to a pair of wild boars, who likewise raged
against each other with wrath not to be
extinguished. At last, the horse stopped in the
middle of a beautiful meadow, and scraped with
his hoof. Here, therefore, the rider cut the
required grass, and, when he returned, placed it
before the horse, who began to eat it immediately.

Delighted with this rare instance of implicit
obedience, the old gentleman highly commended
his youngest brother-in-law, and making him sit
down to supper, asked him what he had seen on
his journey?

"First," said the youth, "I saw a magnificent
bridge built with beams of solid silver,
but, woe is me, it hath been foully despoiled of
two planks, and may evil befal him who did the
deed!"

"That," returned the old man, "is the work
of thy two brothers, and they have been visited
according to their deserts."

"Beneath the bridge," continued the youth,
"was a kettle wherein human heads were boiling,
and lo! hungry eagles did incessantly rend
them."

"That," explained the old man, "is the place
of torment in the other world. What saw'st
thou more?"

Then the youth told him of the two villages,
and the dogs and the boars; whereupon the old
man said:

"The people in the first village have found
favour in the sight of God, for the poor are
never sent empty from their doors. The second
village is inhabited by a race who fears not
God, and knows neither love nor justice. The
two wild boars are thy brothers, who cannot
agree with each other; and the clogs are their
wives."

"But what," inquired the young man, "is
the lovely meadow, where I mowed the grass,
and where I could willingly have remained for
ever?"

"That," replied the old man, "is Paradise,
and hard, indeed, is it to enter therein."

When they had feasted for many days, the
youth was sent home with a handsome present,
and his old brother-in-law assured him that
from the first he had recognised him as an
honest man, since he had conscientiously
fulfilled his father's last injunction. He, therefore,
would be happy and prosperous, while his
brothers would be wretched.

Who cannot perceive in this story a sort of
rude Pilgrim's Progress, vaguely Christian,
though unconnected with any particular system
of theology? Who can fail to discover in the
wise brother-in-law, a family likeness to Mr.
Interpreter?

The following tale, likewise found in Servia
by the native antiquarian Karadschitsch, is of a
more directly religious tendency:

As a certain prince was riding to the hunt,
some drops of blood fell from his nose upon the
snow, and as he looked down he expressed a
wish that he might have a wife as white as
snow and as red as blood— the very qualities, by
the way, which the queen claims for her future
daughter in the German tale of Snowdrop. This
wish was not a mere caprice, to be forgotten as
soon as formed; as the prince proceeded further,
he asked an old woman whom he met on his
road whether she knew of any maiden blessed
with the required attractions.

"A little way on," said the dame, "there is
an odd sort of a house, without any doors, and
with one window, through which people have to
go in and out. Now, in that house lives exactly
such a girl as you describe."

"Gladly would I enter that window," began
the enraptured prince.

"Ay, ay!" interrupted the old woman; "but
you must know that the people who go in, are
much more numerous than those who come out.
Ah! many a lover has been seen to enter that
house who has never been seen since."

"Be that as it may," ejaculated the prince,
"for the sake of such a maiden I will gladly risk
my life."

"Well; if you are resolved," said the woman,
"at least take with you this bit of bread, and
mind you don't lose it, for it may do you better
service than you think."

Accepting with thanks this humble gift, the
prince continued his journey, and presently met
another old woman, who talked to him in much
the same strain as the first, and gave him a
hazel-nut. A third old woman, whom he found
sitting by the roadside, was even more urgent
than the other two in warning him; but, seeing
that he was not to be dissuaded, she gave him a
nut of another sort. She also told him what to
do with his gifts. The bread was to be thrown
to the wild beasts who would attack him on his
approach to the house; and when he found
himself in extreme peril, he was to ask the two
nuts for their counsel.

Leaving his third adviser, the prince
continued his journey until he came to a thick
forest, in which stood the doorless house. As he
drew nearer, he was, as he had been forewarned,
assailed by a number of ferocious animals, who,
however, no sooner smelled the bread, which he
threw among them, than they hung down their
tails and fell motionless. Finding that the
window stood far above his reach, he felt
puzzled as to how he should effect an entrance
into the house, and he stood pondering sorrowfully