to
find out what it was all about, and running from the dark house to the
bright sunshine, her eyes were so dazzled, she did not see the great
hammer coming hurtling through the air, as it did at that very moment, and
whack! crack! it caught her a terrible blow right between the eyes, even
crashing in the mighty bone of her forehead.

Down she fell with a groan right at her husband's feet, and when he turned
her over she was as dead as the fatal hammer itself! Then what a to-do
there was! The two giants wept and roared over the corpse, they wrung
their hands and tore their hair, but it was all of no use, they could not
bring poor Cornelian back to life again. Their sighs and groans only
wrecked a ship or two out at sea, and blew the roofs off some houses at
Market Jew. So they stopped, and set to work to bury poor Cornelian.
They thought it best to get her out of sight as quickly as possible,
it made them weep so to see her lying there dead.

Where they laid her, though, no one knows. Some say it was in the court
of the castle, others that they lifted Chapel Rock and put her under; but
there are others who say that they only rolled her over the edge of the
cliffs and into the sea! You will always, though, find some people ready
to say unkind things about everyone.

Cormoran himself met his death some years later at the hands of Jack the
Giant-Killer, but as you probably know that story, I will not repeat it
here.

THE LEGEND OF THE TAMAR, THE TAVY, AND THE TAW.

In the days when fairies, giants, and witches, gnomes and piskies, and
dwarfs, and all the other Big People and Little People dwelt on the land
or under it, there lived in a huge cavern, deep, deep down in the heart of
the earth, two gnomes, husband and wife, busy, practical little people,
who spent their lives digging and delving in the very bowels of the earth.

They had no cravings for a more beautiful life, no desire to see the
sunshine, the flowers, the green grass, or the wide blue sea. They wanted
nothing better, or beyond the life which had always been theirs.

To them, though, there was sent a little daughter, whom they called
Tamara. She was a lovely, golden-haired sprite, as unlike her parents as
the sun the night, and they were filled with happiness and pride, and
wonder of her beauty.

When Tamara was old enough, they would have set her to work with them, but
Tamara did not like the cold, dark cavern, or the silence and barenes