devourer of my herrings!" So he summoned the whole village round, and they consulted on the death the fat eel should die. "Burn him alive," said one. "Collar him," said another, "and I'll eat him afterwards." "Hang him," advised a third. "No," interrupted an old man, "he'll slip through the rope. I myself was once nearly lost at sea, and I know from experience there is no death so cruel as drowning."

So the device of the old man met with general applause, and he was invited to accompany his lord in a boat out at sea to drown the eel, who, when he was cast into the water, wriggled, twirled, and twisted for joy.

"See !" exclaimed the old man to the lord of Mols, "see how the eel writhes-what a hard death he is dying!"

A little higher up the coast lies the Castle of Katsholm, concerning the foundation of which there hangs a tale much like that of our own Dick Whittington. A bad unjust man died, and left his property between his three sons; but the youngest, who was an honest lad, when he had received his share, said to himself, "What has come with sin must go away with care:" so he determined to put the money to the water ordeal, and cast it into the lake, knowing that what was unjustly got would sink and the rest float. He did so, and one farthing only floated; with this farthing he purchased a cat, not far from kittening time, and went by ship to a foreign land where rats and mice abounded and cats were unknown. There his kittens bore him little cats. in their turn; he sold them, made a large fortune, returned to Jutland, and there built a castle, which he called Katsholm.