y the mayor's Sunday
coat ready made, and so neatly and well done that he could present the
magnificent garment with pride to the head of the town.

The pretty wife of Mr. Cotton looked at this masterpiece of her
husband's art with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

In the night when her husband had fallen asleep, she rose from her bed
without making the slightest noise, and scattered pease all over the
floor of the workshop; she then put a half-finished suit on the table.
She kept a small lantern hidden under her apron, and waited behind
the door listening. Soon after the room was full of little men all
tumbling, falling, and slipping over the pease. Yells and screams rose
at the same time. The poor little men were indeed much bruised and
hurt. Without stopping they ran downstairs and disappeared.

The tailor's wife heard the noise, and thought it good sport. When the
yells were loudest, she suddenly opened the door to see her visitors,
but she came too late. Not a single goblin was left behind.

Since that time the friendly dwarfs have never more been seen in
Cologne, and in other places also they have entirely disappeared.

Jan and Griet

[Illustration: Jan und Griet--Steinbild am Jan von Werth-Denkmal in
Koeln]

"There lived at Cologne on the old farm of Kuempchenshof a peasant who
had a maid called Griet and a man-servant called Jan."

Thus begins the old well-known Rhenish song of "Jan van Werth," the
celebrated general of the imperial cavalry at the time when the Swedes
and French were taking advantage of the civil war in Germany. But
nobody except the inhabitants of the holy City of Cologne, knows that
Jan van Werth was originally a simple labourer, and that he was
indebted for his luck in life to his bad luck in love.

Jan was an industrious farmer-boy with an upright character and a
handsome face.

Many a girl would not have rejected him as a sweetheart, but Jan's
tender heart had long been captivated by the good looks of pretty
Griet, the comely maid of the Kuempchenshof. His love could not long
remain a secret. One day he confessed to her with sobs that he loved
her dearly, and would with pleasure work and toil for her twice as
much as he then did for his master. He spoke long and earnestly, and
taking courage with every word he uttered, he at last put to her the
all-important question--would she become his wife?

Laughingly the pretty girl put her round arms akimbo, tossed her head
ba