But the giants we shall mention
Failed to give their pot attention:—
Oh, a daily little rub’ll
Often save a sight of trouble.
Seymour Barnard.
VI
The Giants’ Pot
In the days when the world was jollier than it is now, there were three giants in Germany. Their names were Grosskopf, Grossmund, and Grosshand, and they lived on the top of a mountain.
No more contented family could be imagined. Their home was airy; yet only one giant-step below, there flowed the good water of the river Rhine. When it came to food, their wants were simple, for from one year’s end to the other they ate nothing but oatmeal porridge. As for the work, they had it so well arranged that each one did for the others what he best could. Grosshand did the cooking; Grossmund did the talking; and Grosskopf did the thinking. What more could be desired? When they were hungry, there was Grosshand to stir up the porridge; when they were dull there was Grossmund to tell stories and make them merry; when they were in a scrape, there was Grosskopf to find a way out.