mountain, and returned home. He then saw, on entering his stable, that his best horse had a gash in its thigh: this provided the stake for Grinken Schmidt.'[1]
It is curious to note the different notions entertained with regard to the sons of Vulcan—the protégés of Saint Eloy. In some countries they are looked upon with strange dread; while in others, their handicraft confers on them dignity and special privileges. In Norway, handicraftsmen were known at a very remote period, and were divided into classes; the smith was the most reputable individual, and associated or was on an equality with the freemen. Among the Gauls and the Welsh we have seen they held high office; but it is questionable if, at first, they did so to the same degree among the Anglo-Saxons. The Druids felt the decline of their influence, and experienced the persecutions of the Teutonic invaders; their rites had to be carried on in the greatest secrecy and fear, and their business was transacted in a hidden manner, while their utmost caution was required to elude observation. King Lear's idea of shoeing a troop of horse with felt[2] may have been derived from the extreme circumspection the Druidical priests, towards the decrease of their power, were compelled to adopt; and the spread of Christianity, so burdened with gross superstitions, no doubt invested the traces of these rites with everything of a repulsive and extraordinary nature. Hence, perhaps, the tradition of Wayland Smith.
Even at a later day, blacksmiths, who, from the im-
