Glasgow Courier. — 1861-02-07 (Glasgow, Strathclyde, Scotland)

THE THREE SCLAVONIANS.  Many, many years ago, there lived in Sclavonia a man who had three sons. One day he called them all before him, and addressed them in this guise :—" My dear boys, you have now arrived at years of discretion, and it Is fully time for you to go forth on your travels, and see the world. There is one country I should, above all, wish you to visit, for so rich a land is it, that the very wagtails bathe in wine, and all the houses are built of sausages; but if you want to make a fortune there, you must on no account forget to learn the language of the inhabitants." The three youths listened with marvellous pleasure to the description of that wonderful land, and were anxious to set out on their journey without delay. Their father went with them as tar as the top of a very high mountain— so high, indeed, they were three days going up to it; but, on reaching the summit, they soon forgot their fatigue on learning that they were now on the borders of the happy land. Here their father, after hanging an empty pouch round the neck of each one, and exclaiming, "Behold Hungary !" in as triumphant a tone as though he had given them the key of universal happiness, took a hearty farewell of them, and trudged off down the mountain back to his home, and they marched on towards Hungary, resolving to learn Hungarian as fast as they could, according to their father's advice. Hardly had they reached the border, when they met a man who called out to ask them where they were going, and what they were about to (10. "We are going to Hungary," replied they, "and we want to learn Hungarian." "Don't go any further, then, my children," answered the man; "for if you stop three days with me you will learn more than you would with a year's study elsewhere; so, if you really want to learn Hungarian quiddy, let me be your teacher." The three youths willingly accepted his offer, and on the third day the eldest brother had managed to learn these words, mi harman (we three); the second, egg seatert (for it cheese); and the youngest, or or tgaztauj (that's the truth). They were so delighted at knowing these words that they set out on their journey again without caring to learn any more, doubtless thinking that they knew quite enough of the language for all useful purposes. They were passing through a gloomy forest, when all of a sudden they came upon the body of a murdered man, and on examining it, found, to their great horror and surprise, that it was no other than their host from whom they had parted but a short time before. While they were lamenting over the corpse, up came the forest keeper and his men, and began question. ing them as to who had committed the murder. The eldest brother, not being able to say anything else, replied, "Mi harman," (we three). "And why did you do it?" inquired the keeper. " Egg aratert" (for a cheese), promptly answered the second. "Seize the wretches and bind them if this be true!" cried the keeper; and immediately the third said, "Az or igazsae (it's the truth). So the keeper and his men bound and dragged away the luckless youths, meaning to come back afterwards and fetch the corpse, but the moment they were out of sight the dead man jumped up, shook himself, and reassuming his proner shape—that of a long-horned, long-tailed, smoky devil—went off into a fit of malicious laughter at the scrape he had led the poor foolish youths into."