THE STORY OF THE WIND. Gir

where thou mayest put it up ?””"—“ Hold your tongues,
ye accursed wretches!” replied the man: “ what has
it got to do with you? It is not the sort of ram
that muck-worms like you deal in. And if you don’t
believe me, spread a cloth on the floor and you shall
se something, I warrant you.”—Then he said:
“Tittle ram, little ram, scatter money!” and the
little ram scattered so much money that it seemed to
grow, and the Jews sereeched like demons.—“<O
man, man!” eried they, “such a ram as that we
have never seen in all our days. Sell it tous! We
will give thee such a lot of money for it.”—< You
may pick up all that money, ye accursed ones,” cried
the man, “but I don’t mean to sell my ram.”

Then the Jews picked up the money, but they laid
before him a table covered with all the dishes that a
man’s heart may desire, and they begged him to sit
down and make merry, and said with true Jewish
cunning: “Though thou mayest get a little lively,
dou’t get drunk, for thou knowest how drink plays
the fool with a man’s wits.”—The man marvelled at
the straightforwardness of the Jews in warning him
against the drink, and, forgetting everything else, sat
down at table and began drinking pot after pot of
mead, and talking with the Jews, and his little ram
went clean out of his head. But the Jews made him
drunk, and laid him in the bed, and changed rams