shepherd who had two children, a son and a daughter, had, at his death, nothing to leave them but three sheep, and the little cottage they inhabited. On his death-bed he blessed them, and with his last breath admonished them to divide the legacy, and share it affectionately. When the children had buried their beloved father, the brother asked the sister which part of the inheritance she would prefer,—the sheep or the cottage? and as she chose the cottage, he said, "Then I will take the sheep, and wander out in the wide world; many a one has there found his fortune, and I am a Sunday child." With these words he embraced his sister, and with his inheritance left his native place.

Far and wide did he wander, and much did he suffer—fortune never once recognising him as her son. Once, full of sorrow, uncertain whither to bend his steps, he sat down by a cross road, when all at once there stood before him a man accompanied by three large dogs, the one greater than the other, strongly built, and jet black.

"Well, my brave youth," said the man, "you have there three fine sheep, and if you choose we will exchange property; let me have your sheep, and you shall have my dogs."

In spite of his mournful disposition, the youth could not help laughing at the proposal. "What am I to do with your dogs?" demanded he; "my sheep feed themselves, but your dogs will want to be fed."

"My dogs are of a peculiar kind," answered the stranger; "they will provide for you, instead of your providing for them, and besides they will bring you great fortune. The smallest of them is called Bring-food; the second, Tear-to-pieces; and the great and strong one is named Break-steel-and-iron."

The shepherd, persuaded by the stranger, gave up his sheep; and now, to try their quality, he called out "Bring-food!" and forthwith one of the dogs ran away, and soon returned with a great basket full of the costliest and daintiest victuals. The shepherd was now much pleased at his exchange, and travelled far and wide over the land.

Once on his road he met a carriage hung all over with black crape drawn by two horses, which were covered with cloth of the same colour, and the coachman, too, was in deep mourning. In the carriage was seated a wondrously beautiful lady, also enveloped in the mournful colour of sorrow, and bitterly weeping; the horses, with drooping heads, paced slowly along. "What means this?" said he to the coachman; but the coachman gave an evasive answer; at last, however, after much pressing, he related as follows: "There dwells in this neighbourhood a ferocious dragon who caused great havoc and destruction; to appease him, and to secure the land against his devastation, a compact has been entered into with him, and he each year receives as tribute a fair maiden, whom he at one morsel devours and swallows. All the maidens in the kingdom at the age of fourteen draw lots between them, and this year the lot has fallen upon the daughter of the king: on this account the king and the whole state were plunged into the deepest grief; but such terror did the dragon inspire, that they dared not refuse him the sacrifice."

The shepherd felt pity for the beautiful young princess, and followed the carriage, which at last stopped at a high mountain. The princess descended, and, full of despair and anguish, went slowly onwards to meet her awful destiny. The driver, on observing that the youth followed her, warned him; the shepherd, however, was not to be persuaded, but followed her steps.

When they had thus advanced half-way up the mountain, the terrible monster approached from the summit, with an awful noise, to devour the victim. From its widely-extended jaws issued streams of burning sulphur, its body was encircled with thick horny scales, on its feet it had immense claws, and wings were attached to its long serpentine neck: already was it near enough to pounce upon its prey, when the shepherd cried out, "Tear-to-pieces!" and his second dog threw himself upon the dragon, and attacked him with such strength and ferocity, that, after a short combat, the monster fell exhausted and dead at the feet of his antagonist, who, to finish his victory, wholly devoured him, leaving only two teeth; these the shepherd put in his pocket.

The princess, overcome with the extreme emotions of fear and joy, had fainted away; the shepherd by every means in his power tried to restore her back to life, in which he at last succeeded. When fully recovered, the princess threw herself at the feet of her deliverer, thanking, and imploring him to return with her to her father, who would richly reward him for having returned him his daughter, and saved the country from the scourge of the dragon.

The youth answered, he would first like to see and know a little more of the world; but in three years he would return, and by this resolution he remained. The maiden then returned to her carriage, and the shepherd continued his wanderings in an opposite direction.

Meanwhile the coachman, who had been a spectator of the whole, now meditated in his own black mind how to turn this fortunate conclusion of the tragedy to his own profit and aggrandizement. As they were passing over a bridge, under which flowed a great stream, he turned himself to the princess and said, "Your deliverer is gone, and was not even anxious for your thanks. It would be a noble action of yours to make the fortune of a poor man. If you, therefore, were to tell your father that it was by my hand that the dragon perished, this would be accomplished. But should you refuse to do so, I will throw you into this deep river, and no one will ever ask after you, being all convinced that the dragon has devoured you." The maiden cried and prayed, but in vain; she was forced to swear that she would proclaim the coachman as her deliverer, and never divulge the secret to any mortal.

They then returned to the capital, where all was rejoicing and gladness at their return. The black banners were removed from the steeples of the church, and gay coloured ones were hoisted to replace them. The king with tears of joy embraced his daughter and her supposed deliverer: "Thou hast not only saved my child," said he, "but thou hast also delivered my land from the greatest pestilence by which it ever has been scourged: to reward you royally for your undaunted courage, and in a manner commensurate with your great service, I intend to bestow my daughter in marriage upon you; but as she is yet too young, we will defer the ceremony for one year."

The coachman thanked the king, was forthwith richly apparelled, elevated to the rank of a duke, with the possession of a dukedom, and instructed in those polite manners requisite in his new and elevated station. The princess was much afflicted, and bewailed her mournful destiny most bitterly, when she was informed of the promise her father had made; but withal she feared to break her oath. When the year was at an end, in spite of all her entreaties she could not obtain from her father anything beyond the promise that the wedding should be delayed for another year. This also expired.

She again threw herself at her father's feet imploring for yet another year, for she well remembered the promise of her young and handsome deliverer, that in three years he would return. The king could not resist her entreaties, and acquiesced in her prayer on the condition that at the termination of that time she would wed the man he had chosen for her. The time again quickly elapsed. The auspicious day was already fixed, on the towers gay banners waved in the breeze, and the joyful shouting of the people mounted to the sky.

On the same day a stranger, with three dogs, entered the town. On demanding the reason of the public rejoicing, he was informed that the king's daughter, that very day, was to be united to the man that had delivered her and the country from the terrible dragon, which he had slain.

The stranger, in no very measured terms, pronounced this man an impostor, who had decked himself with other's feathers: the watch who, passing by, had overheard him, at once apprehended him and threw him into a strong prison guarded with doors and bars of iron. As he lay on his bundle of straw and sorrowfully contemplated his destiny, he thought he heard the whining of his dogs,—a gleam of hope suddenly burst upon him—"Break-steel-and-iron!" cried he as loud as he could, and hardly had he uttered the words when he saw the paws of his biggest dog hard at work on the bars of his window, tearing and breaking them down as if they had been reeds; the dog then jumped down into the cell and bit the chains with which his master was fettered, to pieces; whereupon both left the prison by the window as hastily as possible. He was now again at liberty, but the thought painfully oppressed him that another should have reaped the benefit of the deed of which he deserved the merit and reward. He felt also very hungry, and he called to one of his dogs, "Bring-food," which dog soon returned with a napkin full of costly food; the napkin was marked with a royal crown.