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an inn, near the entrance of one of the valleys of the Giant Mountains, several peasants met together one evening, and after having made themselves merry over trencher and flagon, began to tease a young bashful looking lad, who had taken his station behind the stove, and looked like a travelling scholar. The youth had been observed to betray some symptoms of fear, when, by chance, the name of the whimsical Number Nip fell out in the discourse of the peasants, and the merry rustics took a malicious pleasure in heightening his alarm by telling story after story of the far famed Lord of the Mountain.

The young stranger made several ineffectual attempts to change the subject of conversation. At last one of the peasants, willing to display his wit, thus addressed him: “Now, my young lily-faced master, as you look somewhat like a travelling scholar, methinks it would be but wise and fitting in you to draw some good moral from all our stories; and, I suppose, one is quite as good as another to you in this respect.”

“Oh,” replied the student, “I would willingly comply with what you suggest; but I am only afraid, that, were I to try to turn every thing you tell me to such good account, you might find some cause of blame in me; and I am very timid.”

The peasants laughed aloud at so modest a speech, but promised to listen to all that he might say without taking