squire's wife with her spinning-wheel. Although she, for many years had waged continual war against rheumatism, her pleasant face shone like the full moon from under the white head-gear, while she had protected herself against any possible attack of the enemy by a multiplicity of petticoats and jackets; and as an outer fortification she had put on a monster of a frieze cloak. Along the edge of the hearth sat the children, and cracked nuts. Round about them was a circle of girls and wives of the neighbouring tenants; "they trod the spinning-wheels with diligent feet, or were using the scraping carding-combs," as an author has it. In the passage outside the door, the threshers, who had done their day's work, were stamping the snow off their feet before they came in,—their hair full of chaff. They sat down by the big old-fashioned table, where the cook soon brought them their supper, consisting of a large dish of thick porridge and a bowl of milk.
The smith was leaning against the wall by the hearth; he was smoking a long cutty-pipe, and on his countenance, which bore traces of smithy-soot, lay a dry, serious expression, which told he had been telling some story, and that to his own satisfaction.
"Good evening, Kristen," said I; "what are you telling that creates such fun?"
"Hee, hee, hee!" screamed the youngsters, with great glee depicted in their faces; "Kristen has told us about the smith and the devil, and then about the lad who got him into the nut, and now he says he's going to tell us about Peter Sannum, whose horse the fairies stopped on the Asmyr hill."
"Yes," began the smith, "that Peter belonged to one of the Sannum farms north of the church. He was a wise man, and he was often fetched with sledge and horse to cure both man and beast, just like old Mother Bertha Tuppenhaug here. But somehow or other he could not have been clever enough, for the fairies tied him up once in a field near his farm, where he had to stand the whole nfght with his mouth all on one side; and that time I was going to tell you about he fared no better either. You see, this Peter could never agree with people, he was just like—ahem!—hem!—well yes,
