must
be right to take some." So saying, she opened the box, heedless as
Pandora! The spells and potions of Hades are not for mortal maids, and
no sooner had she inhaled the strange aroma than she fell down like one
dead, quite overcome.

But it happened that Love himself was recovered from his wound, and he
had secretly fled from his chamber to seek out and rescue Psyche.
He found her lying by the wayside; he gathered into the casket what
remained of the philter, and awoke his beloved.

"Take comfort," he said, smiling. "Return to our mother and do her
bidding till I come again."

Away he flew; and while Psyche went cheerily homeward, he hastened up to
Olympus, where all the gods sat feasting, and begged them to intercede
for him with his angry mother.

They heard his story and their hearts were touched. Zeus himself coaxed
Venus with kind words till at last she relented, and remembered that
anger hurt her beauty, and smiled once more. All the younger gods were
for welcoming Psyche at once, and Hermes was sent to bring her hither.
The maiden came, a shy newcomer among those bright creatures. She took
the cup that Hebe held out to her, drank the divine ambrosia, and became
immortal.

Light came to her face like moonrise, two radiant wings sprang from her
shoulders; and even as a butterfly bursts from its dull cocoon, so the
human Psyche blossomed into immortality.

Love took her by the hand, and they were never parted any more.

WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY

(FEBRUARY 22)

THREE OLD TALES

BY M. L. WEEMS (ADAPTED)

I. THE CHERRY TREE

When George was about six years old, he was made the wealthy master of a
hatchet of which, like most little boys, he was extremely fond. He went
about chopping everything that came his way.

One day, as he wandered about the garden amusing himself by hacking his
mother's pea-sticks, he found a beautiful, young English cherry tree, of
which his father was most proud. He tried the edge of his hatchet on the
trunk of the tree and barked it so that it died.

Some time after this, his father discovered what had happened to his
favorite tree. He came into the house in great anger, and demanded to
know who the mischievous person was who had cut away the bark. Nobody
could tell him anything about it.

Just then George, with his little hatchet, came into the room.

"George," said his father, "do you know who has killed my beautiful
little cherry tree yonder in the garde