a certain dead dragon. The grain of sand is found and passed over them, when the troll and all his brood are destroyed.
In the Gaelic stories, for which we are indebted to the skill of an early worker in this field, Mr. J. F. Campbell, that of the young King of Easaidh Ruadh, locates the secret thus: "There is a great flagstone under the threshold. There is a wether under the flag. There is a duck in the wether's belly and an egg in the belly of the duck, and it is in the egg that my soul is." In "the Sea Maiden" there is a "great beast with three heads" which cannot be killed until an egg is broken which is in the mouth of a trout, which springs out of a crow, which flies out of a hind, which lives on an island in the middle of the loch.
In his valuable collection of Russian Folk-Tales, which is enriched by comparative notes, Mr. Ralston supplies some interesting variants of Punchkin. Koshchei, called "the immortal or deathless," is merely one of the many incarnations of the dark spirit which takes so many monstrous shapes in folk-tales. Sometimes his death—that is, the object with which his life is indissolubly connected—does exist within his body. In one story he carries off a queen, of whom her three sons go in search one after the other. The elder two did not return, so that the father was reluctant to part with Prince Ivan, the youngest, but at last gave him his blessing, and sent him on his sad errand. He at last discovers the house where his mother dwells, and at the approach of Koshchei the mother hid away her son. With the acute sense of smell characteristic of the race the monster sniffs "the blood of a" Russian, and cries out, "Who has been with you? Wasn't it your son?" "What are you talking about? God bless you! You've been flying through Russia and got the Russian air up your nostrils, that's why you fancy it's here," answered Prince Ivan's mother, and then she drew nigh to Koshchei, addressed him in terms of affection, asked him about one thing and another, and at last said: "Whereabouts is your death, O Koshchei?" "My death," he replied, "is in such and such a place. There stands an oak, and under the oak is a casket, and in the casket is a hare, and in the hare is a duck, and in the duck is an egg, and in the egg is my death." After sundry adventures Prince Ivan gets hold of the egg, loses
