When the young wife of Jacques came to look for her husband, she saw him returning with his apron full of black morsels of shining stone.  She smiled at him; but when he threw them on the furnace and went to get a brand to set them alight, she looked solemn enough, for she thought he had left his wits on the hill-top.  Great was her surprise when she saw the stones burn!  But her joy was greater than her surprise when she heard her husband’s hammer ring merrily, and found the wage of the smith all spared for home use, instead of being set aside for the charcoal-burner.  That night Jacques had two full wine-cups and, setting them on the anvil, had scarcely said to himself, “I wonder whether He’ll come!” when in walked the Old Man and, nodding familiarly, seated himself on the head of the big hammer.  Jacques was a bold and grateful as well as a good-natured fellow, and in a few minutes he and his visitor were on excellent terms.  No more shivering or chattering of teeth was seen or heard in the smithy that night.  The black stones burned away merrily on the hearth, and the bright flames shone on the honest face of the smith as he hobnobbed with his companion, and looked as though he really thought the stranger as handsome as he certainly had been useful.  He sang his best songs and told his best stories, and when the wine had melted his soul he told his new friend how dearly he loved his wife and what charming, dear creatures his children were.  “Demon or no demon,” he swore the stranger was a good fellow, and though the visitor spoke but little, he seemed to enjoy his company very much.  He laughed at the jokes, smiled at the songs, and once rather startled Jacques by letting out again his long telescope arm to pat him on his shoulder when, with a mouth full of praises of his wife, a tear sparkled in his eye as he told over again how dearly he loved his little ones.

Day broke before the wine was exhausted or their hearts flagged, and when the voice of the early cock woke the swan that tended her callow brood amongst the sedges of the Meuse the Old Man departed.  Jacques never saw him again, although he often looked in all directions when he went to the hill for a supply of fuel; but from that day Liege grew up in industry, riches, and power.  Jacques had found coal, and thus became the benefactor of his native country, and the hero of this favourite Legend of the Liegeois.

The Sword-slipper of Solingen

In Solingen, where the forges rang to the making of sword-blades, many smiths had essayed to imitate the falchions of Damascus, their trenchant keenness and their wondrous golden inlaying.  But numerous as were the attempts made to recapture the ancient secret of the East, they all signally failed, and brought about the ruin of many masters of the sword-slipper’s art.

Among these was old Ruthard, a smith grown grey in the practice of his trade.  He had laid aside sufficient savings to permit himself a year’s experiment in the manufacture of Damascus blades, but to no purpose.  As the months wore on he saw his hard-earned gold melting steadily away.  The wrinkles deepened on his brow, and his only daughter, Martha, watched the change coming over him in sorrowful silence.