It really isn't quite fair. Besides the inconvenience of being a giant—just think of the difficulty of getting enough to eat and clothes to wear—what a disgrace to have one's head inevitably cut off by some little whipper-snapper up to one's waist or knees. And then to be such a by-word for stupidity. Amycus, who used to kill each newcomer with a single blow, was at once dispatched by Polydeuces, the skilful boxer: that sort of an awkward ineffectiveness was bad enough; but what of Polyphemus, who had not sense enough to explain to his Cyclop brethren the transparent trick of Ulysses in calling himself "Noman"? One can't help feeling sorry for such helpless hulks.
And perhaps the unkindest cut of all is the true tale related by Patin, the famous French surgeon. "In the Seventeenth Century, in order to gratify a whim of the Empress of Austria, all the giants and dwarfs in the Germanic empire were assembled at Vienna. As circumstances required that all should be housed in one building, it was feared that the imposing proportions of the giants should terrify the dwarfs; and means were taken to assure the latter that they were perfectly
safe. But the result was most unexpected. The dwarfs teased, insulted and even robbed the giants to such an extent that the latter complained in tears to the officials; and sentinels had to be stationed to protect them from their tiny comrades."
However, the fascination of these Very Tall Men still continues. And these tales relate to the adventures of some of the famous of all ages and all lands.
Those lovers of the colorful old days, who mourn the departure of the giants before the sceptical eye of science and the camera, may be comforted to learn that in the rugged country of Northern Scotland the folk are better informed than we. There where Sutherland rocks meet the sea, east from Cape Wrath, the wise ancients will tell you that the giants are not really all dead, but only sleeping in the great Hall of Albyn. In proof whereof, know that a man of these parts once ventured into a great cave by the sea-shore. It opened to a vast and lofty apartment, where there were many huge men lying fast asleep on the stone floor. In the center of the room was a table, on which lay an ancient horn. The man put the horn to his lips and blew one blast. The enormous figures stirred. He blew a second time. One of the giants rubbed his eyes and said in a voice that rumbled through the cave:
"If you blow once more, we shall wake."
The man fled in terror. Though by singular bad luck he could never again find the mouth of that cave, it is something to know that our tall friends are there, only waiting for three bold blasts to return to us.