heaven?" says the apostle. "I will fetch it out again," says the Smith, "if it is too bad for you." But when he is in heaven he spreads it out behind the door and seats himself upon it, saying, "Now I am sitting on my own property, and will not stir from it." The apostle says, "After all he has done much good to the poor with his money, so he may stay and sit behind the door."
A sixth story from the neighbourhood of Paderborn likewise speaks of the little Smith of Bielefeld. The Devil has in his presence to make himself as large as an elephant, and as small as a mouse, and the Smith catches him and thrusts him into his glove, out of which he is not able to come, and then he hammers him on the anvil. Afterwards the devils will not let the Smith into hell, and keep their door shut with iron bars. St. Peter also refuses to let him into heaven, so he hovers between heaven and hell like Gambling Hansel. In the seventh place follows the Saga of the Smith of Jüterbock, which is very well given in the German-French which still prevails in some places. (Leipz. edition of 1736, pp. 110–150, Nuremberg, 1772, pp. 80–95). The pious Smith of Jüterbock wore a black and white coat, and one night readily and kindly entertained a holy man, who, before his departure, permitted him to make three requests. In the first place, he begged that his favourite seat by the stove might be endowed with the power of holding fast every unbidden guest until he himself set him free; secondly, that his apple-tree in the garden should likewise hold fast those who should climb up it; thirdly, that no one should be able to get out of his coal-sack whom he himself did not release. Some time afterwards Death comes. He sits upon the chair, and in order to get up again is obliged to bestow ten years more life on the Smith. When this time of truce has expired. Death comes again and climbs the apple-tree. The Smith calls together his apprentices who beat Death unmercifully with iron bars. This time he is only released on condition that he will let the Smith live for ever. Full of trouble and lame in every limb. Death slowly departs. On his way he meets the Devil and laments his sorrows to him. The Devil mocks him, and thinks he himself could very easily manage the Smith. The Smith, however, refuses the Devil a night's lodging; at least, he will not open the house-door, but the Devil may creep in through the keyhole. That is easy to the Devil, only the Smith has held the coal-sack in front of it, and ties up the sack as soon as the Devil is inside it, and then has it well beaten out on the anvil. When they have wearied themselves to their hearts' content with knocking and hammering, the poor belaboured Devil is set free, but has to find his way out by the same hole by which he crept in.
Eighthly, there is a similar saga of the Smith of Apolda (compare Falk's Grotesken, 1806, pp. 3–88), who lodged our Lord and St. Peter all night and received the gift of three wishes. In the first place he
