The milkers have a thong which is thrown round the neck of the animal, and drawn closer till it is tied by a slip noose over the creature’s mouth, so as to prevent it from biting. Then the ends are made secure to the milking block, and the milking begins--the animal all the while struggling hard to get free. But the Lapps know how to manage them, and only draw the cord tighter over the nose, so that the creatures are bound in self-defense to remain quiet. The milk flows into a sort of large bowl with handles, but the Lapps are both careless and dirty in their ways, and not only waste a great deal of the milk, but leave so many hairs in it that it is necessary to strain it through a cloth before it can be drunk. However, the milk itself is very good. The milking once over, the doors are opened, and the animals scamper out joyously. All together, the life of the owner of a herd of reindeer cannot be said to be an idle one. Yet he is in general well satisfied with his lot, and thinks himself the most fortunate man in the world. --A. LANG. A STORY OF ANCIENT IRELAND chariots weapon barriers protector whelp award district savage There was a great smith in Ulster of the name of Culain, who made a feast for Conchubar and his people. When Conchubar was setting out to the feast, he passed by the lawn where the boy troop were at their games, and he watched them awhile, and saw how young Setanta, his sister’s son, was winning the goal from them all. “That little lad will serve Ulster yet,” said Conchubar; “and call him to me now,” he said, “and let him come with me to the smith’s feast.” “I cannot go with you now,” said Setanta, when they had called to him, “for these boys have not had enough of play yet.” “It would be too long for me to wait for you,” said the king. “There is no need for you to wait; I will follow the track of the chariots,” said Setanta. So Conchubar went on to the smith’s house, and there was a welcome before him, and the feast was brought in, and they began to be merry. And then Culain said to the king, “Will there be any one else of your people coming after you to-night?” “There will not,” said Conchubar, for he forgot that he had told the little lad to follow him. “But why do you ask me that?” he said. “I have a fierce hound,” said the smith, “and when I take the chain off him, he lets no one come into the district with himself, and he will obey no one but myself, and he has in him the strength of a hundred.” “Loose him out,” said Conchubar, “and let him keep a watch on the place.” So Culain loosed him out, and the dog made a course round the whole district, and then he came back to the place where he was used to watch the house.