and precious jewelry, the richest she had ever seen.  “All these,” she said to the eldest dochter, “I will give you, on condition that you put off your marriage for ae day, and allow me to go into his room alone at night.”  So the lady consented; but meanwhile the auld wife had prepared a sleeping-drink, and given it to the knight, wha drank it, and never wakened till next morning.  The lee-lang night ther damosel sabbed and sang: 

  “Seven lang years I served for thee,
  The glassy hill I clamb for thee,
  The bluidy shirt I wrang for thee;
  And wilt thou no wauken and turn to me?”

Next day she kentna what to do for grief.  She then brak the pear, and found it filled wi’ jewelry far richer than the contents o’ the apple.  Wi’ thae jewels she bargained for permission to be a second night in the young knight’s chamber; but the auld wife gied him anither sleeping-drink, and he again sleepit till morning.  A’ night she kept sighing and singing as before: 

“Seven lang years I served for thee,” &c.  Still he sleepit, and she nearly lost hope a’thegither.  But that day when he was out at the hunting, somebody asked him what noise and moaning was yon they heard all last night in his bedchamber.  He said he heardna ony noise.  But they assured him there was sae; and he resolved to keep waking that night to try what he could hear.  That being the third night, and the damosel being between hope and despair, she brak her plum, and it held far the richest jewelry of the three.  She bargained as before; and the auld wife, as before, took in the sleeping-drink to the young knight’s chamber; but he telled her he couldna drink it that night without sweetening.  And when she gaed awa’ for some honey to sweeten it wi’, he poured out the drink, and sae made the auld wife think he had drunk it.  They a’ went to bed again, and the damosel began, as before, singing: 

  “Seven lang years I served for thee,
  The glassy hill I clamb for thee,
  The bluidy shirt I wrang for thee;
  And wilt thou no wauken and turn to me?”

He heard, and turned to her.  And she telled him a’ that had befa’en her, and he telled her a’ that had happened to him.  And he caused the auld washerwife and her dochter to be burned.  And they were married, and he and she are living happy till this day, for aught I ken.[1]

[1] Chambers, Popular Traditions of Scotland.

THE RED ETIN

There were ance twa widows that lived on a small bit o’ ground, which they rented from a farmer.  Ane of them had twa sons, and the other had ane; and by-and-by it was time for the wife that had twa sons to send them away to seeke their fortune.  So she told her eldest son ae day to take a can and bring her water from the well, that she might bake a cake for him; and however much or however little water he might bring, the cake would be great or sma’ accordingly; and that cake was to be a’ that she could gie him when he went on his travels.