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- One night as myself and my companion sat before a huge turf fire an old tread-bared boned man bearing a long white whisker lifted the latch and strolled in. This old man was supposed to be one of the best story-tellers in the locality. Never in all my life did I hear the equal of the stories.
At a time there reigned a king who was very fond of hearing stories. He had but one daughter. This king made up his mind that he would give his daughter to any man that would tell him a story without an end and if they story came to an(continues on next page)Transcribed by a member of our volunteer transcription project.