``And since it is
your glory to weave, you and yours must weave
forever.'' So saying, she sprinkled upon the
maiden a certain magical potion.
Away went Arachne's beauty; then her very
human form shrank to that of a spider, and so
remained. As a spider she spent all her days
weaving and weaving; and you may see something
like her handiwork any day among the rafters.
THE METAL KING
A GERMAN FOLE-TALE
(ADAPTED)
Once long ago there was a high mountain whose
rocks were veined with gold and silver and seamed
with iron. At times, from a huge rent in the
mountain-side, there shot out roaring, red flames,
and clouds of black smoke. And when the
village folk in the valley below saw this, they would
say: ``Look! the Metal King is at his forge.'' For
they knew that in the gloomy heart of the mountain,
the Metal King and his Spirits of the Mines
wrought in gold and iron.
When the storm raged over the valley, the
Metal King left his cavern and riding on the wings
of the wind, with thundering shouts, hurled his
red-hot bolts into the valley, now killing the
peasants and their cattle, now burning houses and
barns.
But when the weather was soft and mild, and
the breezes blew gently about the mouth of his
cavern, the Metal King returned to his forge in
the depths of the mountain, and there shaped
ploughshares and many other implements of iron.
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