Two of the sons of the farmer were rapidly approaching maturity, when one of them, more reflecting and shrewd than his compeers, suggested the idea of relieving Nelly from her toilsome avocation, and of taking possession of the alluring legacy to which she was evidently and urgently summoning. He proposed, conjointly with his father and brother, to blast the stone, as the most expeditious mode of gaining access to her arcana, and, this in the open daylight, in order that any tutelary protection she might be disposed to extend to her favourite haunt might, as she was a thing of darkness and the night, be effectually countervailed. Nor were their hopes frustrated, for, upon clearing away the earth and fragments that resulted from the explosion, there was revealed to their elated and admiring gaze, a precious booty of closely packed urns copiously enriched with gold. Anxious that no intimation of their good fortune should transpire, they had taken the precaution to despatch the female servant on a needless errand, and ere her return the whole treasure was efficiently and completely secured. So completely did they succeed in keeping their own counsel, and so successfully did their reputation keep pace with the cautious production of their undivulged treasures, that for many years afterwards they were never suspected of gaining any advantage from poor Nelly’s “knocking”; their improved appearance, and the somewhat imposing figure they made in their little district, being solely attributed to their superior judgment, and to the good management of their lucky farm. THE THREE FOOLS. There was once a good–looking girl, the daughter of well–off country folk, who was loved by an honest young fellow named John. He courted her for a long time, and at last got her and her parents to consent to his marrying her, which was to come off in a few weeks’ time. One day as the girl’s father was working in his garden he sat down to rest himself by the well, and, looking in, and seeing how deep it was, he fell a–thinking. “If Jane had a child,” said he to himself, “who knows but that one day it might play about here and fall in and be killed?” The thought of such a thing filled him with sorrow, and he sat crying into the well for some time until his wife came to him. “What is the matter?” asked she. “What are you crying for?” Then the man told her his thoughts— “If Jane marries and has a child,” said he, “who knows but it might play about here and some day fall into the well and be killed?” “Alack!” cried the woman, “I never thought of that before. It is, indeed, possible.” So she sat down and wept with her husband. As neither of them came to the house the daughter shortly came to look for them, and when she found them sitting crying into the well— “What is the matter?” asked she. “Why do you weep?” So her father told her of the thought that had struck him. “Yes,” said she, “it might happen.”