Dutch Fairy Tales for Young Folks — THE LEGEND OF THE WOODEN SHOE

The dead Japanese Oni serving as a model, which was made into a water gutter, served more useful purposes, for a thousand years, than ever he had done, in the land where his relations still live and play their pranks.

THE LEGEND OF THE WOODEN SHOE

In years long gone, too many for the almanac to tell of, or for clocks and watches to measure, millions of good fairies came down from the sun and went into the earth.

There, they changed themselves into roots and leaves, and became trees.

There were many kinds of these, as they covered the earth, but the pine and birch, ash and oak, were the chief ones that made Holland.

The fairies that lived in the trees bore the name of Moss Maidens, or Tree "Trintjes," which is the Dutch pet name for Kate, or Katharine.

The oak was the favorite tree, for people lived then on acorns, which they ate roasted, boiled or mashed, or made into meal, from which something like bread was kneaded and baked.

With oak bark, men tanned hides and made leather, and, from its timber, boats and houses.

Under its branches, near the trunk, people laid their sick, hoping for help from the gods.

Beneath the oak boughs, also, warriors took oaths to be faithful to their lords, women made promises, or wives joined hand in hand around its girth, hoping to have beautiful children.

Up among its leafy branches the new babies lay, before they were found in the cradle by the other children.

To make a young child grow up to be strong and healthy, mothers drew them through a split sapling or young tree.

Even more wonderful, as medicine for the country itself, the oak had power to heal.

The new land sometimes suffered from disease called the _val_ (or fall).

When sick with the _val_, the ground sunk.

Then people, houses, churches, barns and cattle all went down, out of sight, and were lost forever, in a flood of water.

But the oak, with its mighty roots, held the soil firm.

Stories of dead cities, that had tumbled beneath the waves, and of the famous Forest of Reeds, covering a hundred villages, which disappeared in one night, were known only too well.

Under the birch tree, lovers met to plight their vows, and on its smooth bark was often cut the figure of two hearts joined in one.

In summer, the forest furnished shade, and in winter warmth from the fire.

In the spring time, the new leaves were a wonder, and in autumn the pigs grew fat on the mast, or the acorns, that had dropped on the ground.

So, for thousands of years, when men made their home in the forest, and wanted nothing else, the trees were sacred.

But by and by, when cows came into the land and sheep and horses multiplied, more open ground was needed for pasture, grain fields and meadows.

Fruit trees, bearing apples and pears, peaches and cherries, were planted, and grass, wheat, rye and barley were grown.

Then, instead of the dark woods, men liked to have their gardens and orchards open to the sunlight.

Still, the people were very rude, and all they had on their bare feet were rough bits of hard leather, tied on through their toes; though most of them went barefooted.

The forests had to be cut down.

Men were so busy with the axe, that in a few years, the Wood Land was gone.

Then the new "Holland," with its people and red roofed houses, with its chimneys and windmills, and dykes and storks, took the place of the old Holt Land of many trees.

Now there was a good man, a carpenter and very skilful with his tools, who so loved the oak that he gave himself, and his children after him, the name of Eyck, which is pronounced Ike, and is Dutch for oak.

When, before his neighbors and friends, according to the beautiful Dutch custom, he called his youngest born child, to lay the corner-stone of his new house, he bestowed upon her, before them all, the name of Neeltje (or Nellie) Van Eyck.

The carpenter daddy continued to mourn over the loss of the forests.

He even shed tears, fearing lest, by and by, there should not one oak tree be left in the country.

Moreover, he was frightened at the thought that the new land, made by pushing back the ocean and building dykes, might sink down again and go back to the fishes.

In such a case, all the people, the babies and their mothers, men, women, horses and cattle, would be drowned.

The Dutch folks were a little too fast, he thought, in winning their acres from the sea.

One day, while sitting on his door-step, brooding sorrowfully, a Moss Maiden and a Tree Elf appeared, skipping along, hand in hand.

They came up to him and told him that his ancestral oak had a message for him.

Then they laughed and ran away.

Van Eyck, which was now the man's full family name, went into the forest and stood under the grand old oak tree, which his fathers loved, and which he would allow none to cut down.

Looking up, the leaves of the tree rustled, and one big branch seemed to sweep near him.

Then it whispered in his ear: "Do not mourn, for your descendants, even many generations hence, shall see greater things than you have witnessed.

I and my fellow oak trees shall pass away, but the sunshine shall be spread over the land and make it dry.

Then, instead of its falling down, like acorns from the trees, more and better food shall come up from out of the earth.

Where green fields now spread, and the cities grow where forests were, we shall come to life again, but in another form.

When most needed, we shall furnish you and your children and children's children, with warmth, comfort, fire, light, and wealth.

Nor need you fear for the land, that it will fall; for, even while living, we, and all the oak trees that are left, and all the birch, beech, and pine trees shall stand on our heads for you.

We shall hold up your houses, lest they fall into the ooze and you shall walk and run over our heads.

As truly as when rooted in the soil, will we do this.

Believe what we tell you, and be happy.

We shall turn ourselves upside down for you."

"I cannot see how all these things can be," said Van Eyck.

"Fear not, my promise will endure."

The leaves of the branch rustled for another moment.

Then, all was still, until the Moss Maiden and Trintje, the Tree Elf, again, hand in hand, as they tripped along merrily, appeared to him.

"We shall help you and get our friends, the elves, to do the same.

Now, do you take some oak wood and saw off two pieces, each a foot long.

See that they are well dried.

Then set them on the kitchen table to-night, when you go to bed."

After saying this, and looking at each other and laughing, just as girls do, they disappeared.

Pondering on what all this might mean, Van Eyck went to his wood-shed and sawed off the oak timber.

At night, after his wife had cleared off the supper table, he laid the foot-long pieces in their place.

When Van Eyck woke up in the morning, he recalled his dream, and, before he was dressed, hurried to the kitchen.

There, on the table, lay a pair of neatly made wooden shoes.

Not a sign of tools, or shavings could be seen, but the clean wood and pleasant odor made him glad.

When he glanced again at the wooden shoes, he found them perfectly smooth, both inside and out.

They had heels at the bottom and were nicely pointed at the toes, and, altogether, were very inviting to the foot.

He tried them on, and found that they fitted him exactly.

He tried to walk on the kitchen floor, which his wife kept scrubbed and polished, and then sprinkled with clean white sand, with broomstick ripples scored in the layers, but for Van Eyck it was like walking on ice.

After slipping and balancing himself, as if on a tight rope, and nearly breaking his nose against the wall, he took off the wooden shoes, and kept them off, while inside the house.

However, when he went outdoors, he found his new shoes very light, pleasant to the feet and easy to walk in.

It was not so much like trying to skate, as it had been in the kitchen.

At night, in his dreams, he saw two elves come through the window into the kitchen.

One, a kabouter, dark and ugly, had a box of tools.

The other, a light-faced elf, seemed to be the guide.

The kabouter at once got out his saw, hatchet, auger, long, chisel-like knife, and smoothing plane.

At first, the two elves seemed to be quarrelling, as to who should be boss.

Then they settled down quietly to work.

The kabouter took the wood and shaped it on the outside.

Then he hollowed out, from inside of it, a pair of shoes, which the elf smoothed and polished.

Then one elf put his little feet in them and tried to dance, but he only slipped on the smooth floor and flattened his nose; but the other fellow pulled the nose straight again, so it was all right.

They waltzed together upon the wooden shoes, then took them off, jumped out the window, and ran away.

When Van Eyck put the wooden shoes on, he found that out in the fields, in the mud, and on the soft soil, and in sloppy places, this sort of foot gear was just the thing.

They did not sink in the mud and the man's feet were comfortable, even after hours of labor.

They did not "draw" his feet, and they kept out the water far better than leather possibly could.

When the Van Eyck vrouw and the children saw how happy Daddy was, they each one wanted a pair.

Then they asked him what he called them.

"Klompen," said he, in good Dutch, and klompen, or klomps, they are to this day.

"I'll make a fortune out of this," said Van Eyck.

"I'll set up a klomp-winkel (shop for wooden shoes) at once."

So, going out to the blacksmith's shop, in the village, he had the man who pounded iron fashion for him on his anvil, a set of tools, exactly like those used by the kabouter and the elf, which he had seen in his dream.

Then he hung out a sign, marked "Wooden blocks for shoes."

He made klomps for the little folks just out of the nursery, for boys and girls, for grown men and women, and for all who walked out-of-doors, in the street or on the fields.

Soon klomps came to be the fashion in all the country places.

It was good manners, when you went into a house, to take off your wooden shoes and leave them at the door.

Even in the towns and cities, ladies wore wooden slippers, especially when walking or working in the garden.

Klomps also set the fashion for soft, warm socks, and stockings made from sheep's wool.

Soon, a thousand needles were clicking, to put a soft cushion between one's soles and toes and the wood.

Women knitted, even while they walked to market, or gossiped on the streets.

The klomp-winkels, or shops of the shoe carpenters, were seen in every village.

When rich beyond his day-dreams, Van Eyck had another joyful night vision.

The next day, he wore a smiling countenance.

Everybody, who met him on the street, saluted him and asked, in a neighborly way: "Good-morning, Mynheer Bly-moe-dig (Mr. Cheerful).

How do you sail to-day?"

That's the way the Dutch talk--not "how do you do," but, in their watery country, it is this, "How do you sail?"

or else, "Hoe gat het u al?"

(How goes it with you, already?

) Then Van Eyck told his dream.

It was this: The Moss Maiden and Trintje, the wood elf, came to him again at night and danced.

They were lively and happy.

"What now?"

asked the dreamer, smilingly, of his two visitors.

[Illustration: The kabouter took the wood and shaped it on the inside.

] He had hardly got the question out of his mouth, when in walked a kabouter, all smutty with blacksmith work.

In one hand, he grasped his tool box.

In the other, he held a curious looking machine.

It was a big lump of iron, set in a frame, with ropes to pull it up and let it fall down with a thump.

"What is it?"

asked Van Eyck.

"It's a Hey" (a pile driver), said the kabouter, showing him how to use it.

"When men say to you, on the street, to-morrow, 'How do you sail?'

laugh at them," said the Moss Maiden, herself laughing.

"Yes, and now you can tell the people how to build cities, with mighty churches with lofty towers, and with high houses like those in other lands.

Take the trees, trim the branches off, sharpen the tops, turn them upside down and pound them deep in the ground.

Did not the ancient oak promise that the trees would be turned upside down for you?

Did they not say you could walk on top of them?"

By this time, Van Eyck had asked so many questions, and kept the elves so long, that the Moss Maiden peeped anxiously through the window.

Seeing the day breaking, she and Trintje and the kabouter flew away, so as not to be petrified by the sunrise.

"I'll make another fortune out of this, also," said the happy man, who, next morning, was saluted as Mynheer Blyd-schap (Mr. Joyful).

At once, Van Eyck set up a factory for making pile drivers.

Sending men into the woods, who chose the tall, straight trees, he had their branches cut off.

Then he sharpened the trunks at one end, and these were driven, by the pile driver, down, far and deep, into the ground.

So a foundation, as good as stone, was made in the soft and spongy soil, and well built houses uprose by the thousands.

Even the lofty walls of churches stood firm.

The spires were unshaken in the storm.

Old Holland had not fertile soil like France, or vast flocks of sheep, producing wool, like England, or armies of weavers, as in the Belgic lands.

Yet, soon there rose large cities, with splendid mansions and town halls.

As high towards heaven as the cathedrals and towers in other lands, which had rock for foundation, her brick churches rose in the air.

On top of the forest trees, driven deep into the sand and clay, dams and dykes were built, that kept out the ocean.

So, instead of the old two thousand square miles, there were, in the realm, in the course of years, twelve thousand, rich in green fields and cattle.

Then, for all the boys and girls that travel in this land of quaint customs, Holland was a delight.

THE CURLY-TAILED LION

Once upon a time, some Dutch hunters went to Africa, hoping to capture a whole family of lions.

In this they succeeded.

With a pack of hounds and plenty of aborigines to poke the jungle with sticks, they drove a big male lion, with his wife and four whelps, out of the undergrowth into a circle.

In the centre, they had dug a pit and covered it over with sticks and grass.

Into this, the whole lion family tumbled.

Then, by nets and ropes, the big, fierce creatures and the little cubs were lifted out.

They were put in cages and brought to Holland.

The baby lions, no bigger than pug dogs, were as pretty and harmless as kittens.

The sailors delighted to play with them.

Now lions, even before one was ever seen among the Dutch, enjoyed a great reputation for strength, courage, dignity and power.

It was believed that they had all the traits of character supposed to belong to kings, and which boys like to possess.

Many fathers had named their sons Leo, which is Latin for lion.

Dutch daddies had their baby boys christened with the name of Leeuw, which is their word for the king of beasts.

Before lions were brought from the hot countries into colder lands, the bear and wolf were most admired; because, besides possessing plenty of fur, as well as great claws and terrible teeth, they had great courage.

For these reasons, many royal and common folks had taken the wolf and bear as namesakes for their hopeful sons.

But the male lion could make more noise than wolves, for he could roar, while they could only howl.

He had a shaggy mane and a very long tail.

This had a nail at the end, for scratching and combing out his hair, when tangled up.

If he were angry, the mighty brute could stick out his red tongue, curled like a pump handle, and nearly half a yard long.

So the lion was called the king of beasts, and the crowned rulers and knights took him as their emblem.

They had pictures of the huge creature painted on their flags, shields and armor.

Sometimes they stuck a gold or brass lion on their iron war hats, which they called helmets.

No knight was allowed to have more than one lion on his shield, but kings might have three or four, or even a whole menagerie of meat-eating creatures.

These painted or sculptured lions were in all sorts of action, running, walking, standing up and looking behind or before.

Now there was a Dutch artist, who noticed what funny fellows kings were, and how they liked to have all sorts of beasts and birds of prey, and sea creatures that devour, on their banners.

There were dragons, two-headed eagles, boars with tusks, serpents with fangs, hawks, griffins, wyverns, lions, dragons and dragon-lions, besides horses with wings, mermaids with scaly tails, and even night mares that went flying through the dark.

With such a funny variety of beast, bird, and fish, some wondered why there were not cows with two tails, cats with two noses, rams with four horns, and creatures that were half veal and half mutton.

He noticed that kings did not care much for tame, quiet, peaceable, or useful creatures, such as oxen or horses, doves or sheep;

but only for those brutes that hunt and kill the more defenceless creatures.

Since, then, kings of the country must have a lion, the artist resolved to make a new one.

He would have some fun, at any rate.

So as painter or sculptor select men and women to pose for them in their study as their heroes and heroines, and just as they picture plump little boys and girls as cherubs and angels, so the Dutchman would make of the cubs and the father beast of prey his models for coats of arms.

Poor lions!

They did not know, but they soon found out how tiresome it was to pose.

They must hold their paws up, down, sideways or behind, according as they were told.

They must stand or kneel, for a long time, in awkward positions.

They must stick out their tongues to full length, walk on their hind legs, twist their necks, to one side or the other, look forward or backward, and in many tiresome ways do just as they were ordered.

They must also make of their tails every sort of use, whether to wrap around posts or bundles, to stick out of their cage, or put between their legs, as they ran away, or to whisk them around, as they roared; or hoist them up high when rampant.

In some cases, they were expected, even, to put on spectacles, and pretend to be reading, to hold in their paws books and scrolls, or town arms, or shop signs.

They must pose, not only as companions of Daniel, in the lions' den at Babylon, which was proper; but also to sit, as companion of St. Mark, and even to stand on their legs on the top of a high column, without falling off.

In a word, this artist belonged to the college of heralds, and he introduced the king of beasts into Dutch heraldry.

So from that day forth, the life of that family of African lions, from the daddy to the youngest cub, was made a burden.

When at home in the jungle and even in the cage, the father lion's favorite position was that of lolling on one side, with his paws stretched out, and half asleep and all day, until he went out, towards dark, to hunt.

Now, he must stand up, nearly all day.

Daddy lion had to do most of the posing, until the poor beast's front legs and paws were weary with standing so long.

Moreover, the hair was all worn off his body at the place where he had to sit on the hard wooden floor.

He must do all this, on penalty of being punched with a red hot poker, if he refused.

A charcoal furnace and long andirons were kept near by, and these were attended to by a Dutch boy.

Or, it might be that the whole family of lions were not allowed to have any dinner till Daddy obeyed and did what he was told, though often with a snarl or a roar.

First, Leo must rise upon his hind legs and look in front of him.

This posture was not hard, for in his native jungle, he had often thus obtained a breakfast of venison for his wife and family.

But oh, to stand a half hour on two legs only, when he had four, and would gladly have used all of them, was hard.

Yet this was the position, called "the lion rampant," which kings liked best.

But the king's uncles, nephews, nieces, cousins, and his wife's relations generally, every one of them, wanted a lion on his or her stationery and pocket handkerchiefs, as well as on their shields and flags.

So the old lion was tortured--the hot poker being always in sight--and he was made to take a great variety of positions.

The artist called out to Leo, just as a driver says to his cart horse, "whoa," "get up," "golong," etc. When he yelled in this fashion, the lion had to obey.

Pretty soon lions in heraldry, on flags, armor, town arms, family crests and city seals became all the fashion.

The whole country went lion-mad.

There were lions carved in stone, wood and iron, and every sort and kind, possible or impossible.

Some of them seemed to be engaged in a variety of tricks, as if they belonged to a circus, or were having a holiday.

They laughed, giggled, yawned, stuck out their tongues, held boards for hotels, bundles for the shopkeepers, or barrels for beer halls, and made excellent shop signs, which the boys and girls enjoyed looking at.

Mrs. Leo was not in much demand, for Mr. Leo did not approve of his wife's appearing in public.

She was kept busy in taking care of her cubs.

Daddy Lion had to do multiple work for his family, until the cubs were grown.

Yet long before this time had come, their Dad had died and been stuffed for a museum.

How this first king of beasts in the Netherlands came to his untimely end was on this wise.

Not satisfied with posing Leo in every posture, and with all possible gestures, his master, the artist, wanted him to look "heraldical"; that is, like some of the mythical beasts that were combinations of any and all creatures having fins, fur, feathers, or scales, such as the dragon or griffin.

One day, he attempted to make out of a live lion a fanciful creature of curlicues and curliewurlies.

So he strapped the lion down, and used a curling iron on his mane until he looked like a bearded bull of Babylon.

Then he combed out, and, with curl papers, twisted the long line of hair, which is seen in front of Leo's stomach.

In like manner, he treated the bunches of hair that grow over the animal's kneepans and elbows.

Last of all, he took a hair brush, and smoothed out the tuft, at the end of the animal's long tail.

Then the artist made a picture of him in this condition, all curled and rich in ringlets, like a dandy.

By this time, the father of the lion family looked as if he had come out fresh from a hairdresser's parlor.

Indeed, Mrs. Leo was so struck with her husband's appearance, that she immediately licked her cubs all over, until their fur shone, so they should look like their father.

Then, having used her tongue as a comb, to make her own skin smooth and glossy, she completed the job by using the nail in her tail, to do the finishing work.

Altogether, this was the curliest family of lions ever seen, and Daddy Leo appeared to be the funniest curly-headed and curly-bodied lion ever seen.

In fact he was all curls, from head to tail.

Notwithstanding all his pains, the artist was not yet satisfied with his job.

He wanted a circle of long hair to grow in the middle of the lion's tail.

His curly lion should beat all creation, and in this way he proceeded.

His own daughter, being a young lady and having some trouble of the throat, the doctor had ordered medicine for the girl, charging her not to spill any drops of the liquid on her face, or clothes.

But, in giving the dose, either the mother, or the daughter, was careless.

At that very moment the cat ran across the room, after the mouse, and just as she held the spoon to her mouth, Puss got twisted in her skirts.

So most of the medicine splashed upon her upper lip and then ran down to her chin, on either side of her mouth.

She laughed over the spill, wiped off the liquid, and thought no more of the matter.

But a week later, she was astonished.

On waking, she looked in the glass, only to shrink back in horror.

On her face had grown both moustaches and a beard.

True, both were rather downy, but still they were black; and, until the barber came, and shaved off the growth, she was a bearded woman.

Yet, strange to tell, after one or two shaves by the barber, no more hair grew again on her face, which was smooth again.

"By Saint Servatus!

I'll make a fortune on this," cried the artist, when he saw his daughter's hairy face.

So, he sold his secret to a druggist, and this man made an ointment, giving it a Chinese name, meaning "beard-grower."

This wonderful medicine, as his sign declared, would "force the growth of luxuriant moustaches and a beard, on the smoothest face of any young man," who should buy and apply it.

Soon the whole town rang with the news of the wonderful discovery.

The druggist sold out his stock, in two days, to happy purchasers.

Other young fellows, that wanted to outrival their companions, had to wait a fortnight for the new medicine to be made.

By that time, a full crop of downy hair had come out on the cheeks and chin and upper lip of many a youth.

Some, who had been trying for years to raise moustaches, in order duly to impress the girls, to whom they were making love, were now jubilant.

In several cases, a lover was able to cut out his rival and win the maid he wanted.

Several courtings were hastened and became genuine matches, because a face, long very smooth, and like a desert as to hair, bore a promising crop.

Beard and cheeks had at last met together.

So the new medicine was called a "match-maker."

The artist rubbed his hands in glee, at the prospect of a fortune.

He argued that if the wonderful ointment made beards for men, it must be good for lions also.

So again, Daddy Lion was coerced by the threat of the hot poker.

Then his tail was seized, and, by means of a rope, tied to a post on one side of the cage, he was held fast.

Then the artist anointed about six inches of the middle of the smooth tail with the magic liquid.

For fear the lion might lick it off, the poor beast was held in this tiresome position for a whole week, so that he could not turn round, and he nearly died of fatigue.

But it happened to the lion's tail, as it did with the young men's chins, cheeks and upper lips.

A beard did indeed grow, but once shaved off--and many did shave, thinking to promote greater growth--no more hair ever appeared again.

The ointment forced a downy growth but it killed the roots of the hair.

A worse fate befell the lion.

A crop of hair, perhaps an inch longer than common, grew out.

But this time, the bad medicine, which had deceived men, and was unfit for lions, struck in.

From this cause, added to nervous prostration, old Leo fell dead.

As lion fathers go, he was a good one, and his widow and children mourned for him.

He had never once, however hungry, tried to eat up his cubs, which was something in his favor.

Soon after these exploits, the old artist died also.

His son, hearing there was still a demand, among kings, for lions, and those especially with centre curls in their tails, took the most promising of the whelps and petted and fed him well.

In the seventh year, when his mane and elbow and knee hair had grown out, this cub was mated to a young lioness of like promise.

When, of this couple, a male whelp was born, it was found that in due time its knees, elbows, tail-tuft, and the front of its body were all rich in furry growth.

In the middle of its tail, also, thick ringlets, several inches long, were growing.

Evidently, the hair tonic had done some good.

So this one became the father of all the curly-tailed lions in the Netherlands.

Not only was this lion, thus distinguished for so novel an ornament, copied into heraldry, but it adorned many city seals and town arms.

In time, the lion of the Netherlands was pictured with a crown on its head, a sword in its right hand, a bundle of seven arrows--in token of a union of seven states--and, still later, the new Order of the Netherlands Lion was founded.

The original curly lion, with long hair in the middle of its tail, boasts of a long line of descendants that are proud of their ancestor.

BRABO AND THE GIANT

Ages ago, when the giants were numerous on the earth, there lived a big fellow named Antigonus.

That was not what his mother had called him, but some one told him of a Greek general of that name; so he took this for his own.

He was rough and cruel.

His castle was on the Scheldt River, where the city of Antwerp now stands.

Many ships sailed out of France and Holland, down this stream.

They were loaded with timber, flax, iron, cheese, fish, bread, linen, and other things made in the country.

It was by this trade that many merchants grew rich, and their children had plenty of toys to play with.

The river was very grand, deep, and wide.

The captains of the ships liked to sail on it, because there was no danger from rocks, and the country through which it flowed was so pretty.

So every day, one could see hundreds of white-sailed craft moving towards the sea, or coming in from the ocean.

Boys and girls came down to stand in their wooden shoes on the banks, to see the vessels moving to and fro.

The incoming ships brought sugar, wine, oranges, lemons, olives and other good things to eat, and wool to make warm clothes.

Often craftsmen came from the wonderful countries in the south to tell of the rich cities there, and help to build new and fine houses, and splendid churches, and town halls.

So all the Belgian people were happy.

But one day, this wicked giant came into the country to stop the ships and make them pay him money.

He reared a strong castle on the river banks.

It had four sides and high walls, and deep down in the earth were dark, damp dungeons.

One had to light a candle to find his way to the horrid places.

What was it all for?

The people wondered, but they soon found out.

The giant, with a big knotted club, made out of an oak tree, strode through the town.

He cried out to all the people to assemble in the great open square.

"From this day forth," he roared, "no ship, whether up or down the river, shall pass by this place, without my permission.

Every captain must pay me toll, in money or goods.

Whoever refuses, shall have both his hands cut off and thrown into the river.

"Hear ye all and obey.

Any one caught in helping a ship go by without paying toll, whether it be night, or whether it be day, shall have his thumbs cut off and be put in the dark dungeon for a month.

Again I say, Obey!"