all the time keeping silence, except that when he drew his thread he said, “Leulero! leulero!” and she, spinning, answered, “Picici! picici! picicio!” And they said not another word.  Now there happened to pass that way a soldier with a horse, and he asked a woman if there was any shoemaker in that street.  She said there was one near by, and took him to the house.  The, soldier asked the shoemaker to come and cut his horse a girth, and he would pay him.  The latter made no answer but “Leulero! leulero!” and his wife “Picici! picici! picicio!” Then the soldier said, “Come and cut my horse a girth, or I will cut your head off.”  The shoemaker only answered, “Leulero! leulero!” and his wife “Picici! picici! picicio!” Then the soldier began to grow angry, and seized his sword, and said to the shoemaker, “Either come and cut my horse a girth, or I will cut your head off.”  But to no purpose.  The shoemaker did not wish to be the first one to speak, and only replied, “Leulero! leulero!” and his wife “Picici! picici! picicio!” Then the soldier got mad in good earnest, seized the shoemaker’s head, and was going to cut it off.  When his wile saw that, she cried out, “Ah, don’t, for mercy’s sake!” “Good!” exclaimed her husband, “good!  Now you go and carry the pan back to my godmother, and I will go and cut the horse’s girth.”

In a Sicilian version the man and wife fry some fish, and then set about their respective work—­shoemaking and spinning—­and the one who finishes first the piece of work begun is to eat the fish.  While they are singing and whistling at their work, a friend comes along, who knocks at the door, but receives no answer.  Then he enters and speaks to them, but still no reply.  Finally, in anger, he sits down at the table, and eats up all the fish himself.[11]

Thus, it will be observed, the droll incident which forms the subject of the old Scotch song of “The Barring of the Door” is of world-wide celebrity.

* * * * *

Gothamite stories appear to have been familiar throughout Europe during the later Middle Ages, if we may judge from a chapter of the Gesta Romanorum in which the monkish compiler has curiously “moralised” the actions of three noodles: 

We read in the “Lives of the Fathers” that an angel showed to a certain holy man three men labouring under a triple fatuity.  The first made a faggot of wood, and because it was too heavy for him to carry, he added to it more wood, hoping by such means to make it light.  The second drew water with great labour from a very deep well with a sieve, which he incessantly filled.  The third carried a beam in his chariot, and, wishing to enter his house, whereof the gate was so narrow and low that it would not admit him, he violently whipped his horse until they both fell together into a deep well.  Having shown this to the holy man, the angel said, “What think you of these three men?” “That they are fools,” answered he.  “Understand,