his mouth. I'll search well as soon as the sun rises, whether
there's any plant growing beside the house except thistles and
dockings."

He went home, and as tired as he was he did not sleep a wink until
the sun rose on the morrow. He got up then, and it was the first
thing he did to go out and search well through the grass round about
the house, trying could he get any herb that he did not recognise.
And, indeed, he was not long searching till he observed a large
strange herb that was growing up just by the gable of the house.

He went over to it, and observed it closely, and saw that there were
seven little branches coming out of the stalk, and seven leaves
growing on every branch_een_ of them; and that there was a
white sap in the leaves. "It's very wonderful," said he to himself,
"that I never noticed this herb before. If there's any virtue in an
herb at all, it ought to be in such a strange one as this."

He drew out his knife, cut the plant, and carried it into his own
house; stripped the leaves off it and cut up the stalk; and there
came a thick, white juice out of it, as there comes out of the sow-
thistle when it is bruised, except that the juice was more like oil.

He put it in a little pot and a little water in it, and laid it on
the fire until the water was boiling, and then he took a cup, filled
it half up with the juice, and put it to his own mouth. It came into
his head then that perhaps it was poison that was in it, and that
the good people were only tempting him that he might kill himself
with that trick, or put the girl to death without meaning it. He put
down the cup again, raised a couple of drops on the top of his