s bring out; and if any one
pass by at the time, allow him to take one handful, but no more. Should
any one attempt to fill his pockets, the money vanishes, and he is
instantly assailed by a shower of boxes on the ear from invisible
hands."[B] In the Netherlands, the "Gypnissen," "queer little women,"
lived in a castle which had been reared in a single night.[C] The Ainu
have tales of the Poiyaumbe, a name which means literally "little beings
residing on the soil" (Mr. Batchelor says that "little" is probably meant
to express endearment or admiration, but one may be allowed to doubt
this). The Ainu, who is the hero of the story, "comes to a tall mountain
with a beautiful house built on its summit. Descending, for his path had
always been through the air, by the side of the house, and looking through
the chinks of the door, he saw a little man and a little woman sitting
beside the fireplace."[D]

[Footnote A: _Folk Tales of the Magyars_, p. xxxviii.]

[Footnote B: Grimm, apud Keightley, 441.]

[Footnote C: _Testimony of Tradition_, p. 86.]

[Footnote D: _Folk Lore Journal_, vi. 195.]

4. The little people or fairies occupy rude stone monuments or are
connected with their building. In Brittany they are associated with
several of the megalithic remains.[A] "At Carnac, near Quiberon," says M.
De Cambry, "in the department of Morbihan, on the sea-shore, is the Temple
of Carnac, called in Breton 'Ti Goriquet' (House of the Gories), one of
the most remarkable Celtic monuments extant. It is composed of more than
four thousand large stones, standing erect in an arid plain, where neither
tree nor shrub is to be seen, and not even a pebble is to be found in the
soil on which they stand. If the inhabitants are asked concerning this
wonderful monument, they say it is an old camp of Caesar's, an army turned
into stone, or that it is the work of the Crions or Gories. These they
describe as little men between two and three feet high, who carried these
enormous masses on their hands; for, though little, they are stronger than
giants. Every night they dance around the stones, and woe betide the
traveller who approaches within their reach! he is forced to join in the
dance, where he is whirled about till, breathless and exhausted, he falls
down, amidst the peals of laughter of the Crions. All vanish with the
break of day. In the ruins of Tresmalouen dwell the Courils. They are of a
malignant disposition, but great lovers of dancing. A