I’ll tell you a story now, and I’ll not be with you again till Christmas; and I never saw a man that could read an open book, was able to tell a story out of the mouth. King Solomon made a great house for himself, the best that was ever seen. And there was a man passing one day, and he stopped to give a look at it—the way I might give a look at that house there. ‘Tell me what there is stronger and finer than that house,’ says King Solomon. ‘I don’t know anything that is stronger and finer than it is,’ says the man. ‘Well,’ said King Solomon, ‘unless you can give me an answer to that by to-morrow I’ll have the head struck off of you,’ he said. So when the man went home, he told all that to the daughter he had, and he said he could find no answer. ‘I will give you an answer,’ says she. ‘Is not God stronger than that house, and isn’t heaven finer than what it is?’ So he went the next day and he gave that answer. ‘I’ll give you another question,’ says the King then. ‘Tell me,’ says he, ‘what is the number of the stars of the sky! And tell me that by to-morrow,’ says he, ‘or I will strike the head off you.’ So the man went home, and he could think of no answer, and he told the daughter what happened, and how King Solomon asked him to give an account of the stars in the sky. ‘I will give you an answer,’ says the daughter. ‘If you were to put twelve candles lighting on the top of the highest mountain,’ says she, ‘and to be looking at them, and your sight to spread on you, you wouldn’t know how many you were looking at, but you might think it was hundreds. And there is no one can tell the number of the stars,’ says she, ‘or give an account of them, but God that made them.’ So the man went back next day, and he gave that answer to King Solomon. ‘Where did you get that answer,’ says the king, ‘or who made it?’ says he. ‘It was my daughter made it,’ says the man. ‘Bring her here till I’ll have a look at her,’ says the king. So the daughter was brought before him, and she was a fine comely girl, and when King Solomon saw her he took a liking to her. ‘Will you marry me?’ says he. ‘I will not,’ says she; ‘for if you marry me to-day, you might throw me off again to-morrow.’ I suppose she said that because she knew of him having seven hundred wives. ‘I will not do that,’ says he. ‘Well,’ says she, ‘I’ll make a bargain with you that I’ll marry you if you give me your word that the day you turn me out you’ll let me carry away with me the three things I’ll ask for, and to have them for my own.’ [Illustration: THE THIRD THING I’LL BE TAKING IS YOURSELF.]