Even the wine, and mead, and beer, they drank; which they contrived in this manner; they gnawed a hole in the top of the cask, and drank as far as their noses could reach ; then one of them dipped in his tail, which the others sucked; and he had his suck at another's tail in return.

The cradles of their infants were obliged to be watched night and day, to prevent the rats eating their noses or nibbling their fingers. But with all their care a great many of the children were maimed before they had grown strong enough to defend themselves.

Numerous expedients had been tried to destroy or to reduce the number of these vermin. At one time a number of cats were introduced, and fine fun it was for the old cats. They had rare sport in hunting, and lived merrily upon rats' flesh. But it was otherwise with the kittens; for whenever the rats found a kitten by himself, they assembled in a body and attacked him, and ate him up; so that the breed of cats could not be long continued.

At another time they made an attempt to poison the rats, and indeed they destroyed a great number, but the stench that arose from their dead bodies in the streets, and in their holes, and in every part of their houses, brought an infectious fever upon the inhabitants, so that a great number died.

Large rewards had been offered to any one who would clear the place of rats. Ratcatchers had arrived there from all parts of the country, expecting to make their fortunes. But their attempts always ended in disappointment to themselves and their employers. The rats continued to nibble, and gnaw, and multiply, in spite of the constant warfare carried on against them.

One day there came a wandering piper to the town, fantastically dressed. There was hardly any colour or shade that was not to be found in some corner of his party-coloured clothing; this procured him the name of the Pied Piper. He called upon the mayor, and asked him what reward he should receive, if he destroyed every single rat in the borough of Franchville. The mayor sent the crier

round to assemble the burgesses in the Townhall, to consider what reward should be given. The debate lasted a considerable time, for the love of economy and the fear of the rats struggled hard against one another. The fear of the rats, however, appeared in the end to prevail, for they decided upon giving five hundred pounds (an enormous sum in those days) when the rats should be extinct.

The piper accepted the offer, and left the Town-hall, playing a shrill tune upon his pipe. To the utter astonishment of the bystanders, a great number of rats rushed out from the holes round the foundations of the Town-hall, and followed after his heels.

As he went along, all the rats came out of their holes and trotted after him. Every fifty yards he stopped, and turned round and played a particular flourish upon his pipe, just to give time for the young little toddling rats to overtake their stronger relations. Up Silver street he went, and down Gold street, and so on to the harbour. The people flocked after him at a distance, showering blessings upon his head. But they could not

get any where near him, on account of the ground being perfectly covered with

rats.

When he had led his flock of rats down to the water, he got into a boat with high sides to it, so that no rat could get into it. He then entered the boat and shoved off into the middle. The rats crowded round, and appeared to listen with delight to his music, as they wagged their tails in the water. Thus he continued piping to them till the tide had fallen, and the boat was left aground on the mud. But the rats, still infatuated with the melody of his notes, kept paddling round him, until one by one they perished, smothered in the mud. Before the water rose again, not a rat was left alive.

When he landed, he went to the mayor to demand his promised reward. But the danger had now ceased, and the love of economy resumed its reign. They told him that they had thought it would have been a work of great labour and difficulty: indeed they had not anticipated that the reward would ever have been called for, or

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they never would have offered so large a sum; but as he had certainly done them a great benefit, they would not object to give him fifty pounds, which they considered to be very high wages for the trouble he had had.

The Pied Piper demanded his reward according to the agreement; and when he could not obtain it, he swore he would be revenged upon them; but his menaces were only treated with contempt.

The Pied Piper said, "Very well," and turning round he marched off, and strutted down the street as before. But as the inhabitants knew that every rat had been destroyed, they felt under no apprehension of his piping them back again, so that they merely laughed at him as he walked down the street, piping a merry tune. The old

eople ridiculed him as he passed by, but all the children ran after him, hopping and dancing to the music, and quizzing his partycoloured clothing.

There was something irresistible in his tunes to the ears of youth. They left their