THERE was once a gentleman, it is said, who was very wealthy. He had a large family of beautiful children; and he loved his wife and sons and daughters very dearly; and daily he would have his coachman take them out to ride. Away they would go through country and city, and forest and park. But near one of the pleasant rides there was a deep chasm, and its sides were rocky and steep, so that to go too near it would be almost certain death. But the coachman would often see how very close he could drive to the edge of the abyss without dashing his precious load to destruction. This he continued to do day after day; though he did not mean any harm. He only wanted to show how near he could come to danger and yet escape. But one day he came just a little nearer, when in an instant he became dizzy as he looked down into the dark chasm, and whirled from his high seat and was gone. But horses, coach and family, all escaped and came safely home. Then another coachman must be found; and the gentleman sent word all about, and advertised for a good, safe, skilful man. And many came and he questioned them, each by himself, in order to get the right one. "How near can you drive to Danger Cliff—" so that chasm was called—"without driving over?" asked the gentleman of the first one who came. "Alt, your honor, it's not every coachman that can do the likes o' me. Sure, I've driven as near as your finger's bridth minny's the time, an' twas as the sim as though 'twas a mile or more. I've niver hurt a hair o' the hid."