in exile, and was
hidden, with some devoted followers, in a large cave. The enemies of his
country were encamped around, and lay, in strong force, between his
hiding-place and the small town where he had spent his childish years,
which they also garrisoned. While in this situation, cut off from all
intercourse with his home and friends, his heart turned to them with an
intense longing; and in a moment of thoughtlessness, he said before
three of his captains, 'Oh, what would I not give, could I once more
drink water from the well, outside the gate of my native town!' At the
peril of their lives, the gallant men fought their way through the hosts
of the enemy, and returned with the water. But the poet-warrior would
not drink: he poured it out as a libation to God, saying, 'Can I indeed
drink the blood of these noble friends, who have risked their lives to
gratify my idle whim? I cannot do it.' Now, who can be this poet,
warrior, and king?"

"Did he live about a thousand years before the Christian era?" said Amy.

"He did."

"It was the sweet Psalmist of Israel, David, son of Jesse, the
Bethlehemite. Now, who is the man that long ago published a book of
jests, said to be greatly studied now-a-days by diners-out and professed
wits, and endlessly copied into other works of a similar character. His
reputation is so high, that many anecdotes are called by his name. Who
can he be?"

"Is it Punch?" said Lewis.

"How silly!" cried Harry, with the knowing look of a boy two years
older: "Punch is a newspaper. Was it Hood?"

"No: do you all give it up?"

"Yes: we can't imagine who he can be."

"Joe Miller, of jesting memory."

"Now let us try another game," said Gertrude. "Of course, Cousin Mary
has an endless store at her disposal."

"Let us try 'Elements,'" Mary answered. "I will throw my handkerchief at
some one, calling out water, air, or earth; and the person who catches
it must immediately name an animal living in or upon the element. But if
I say _fire_, you must be silent. The answer should be given before I
count ten; and then the one in possession of the handkerchief must throw
it to another, carrying on the game. Any one who repeats an animal that
has been already mentioned, pays a forfeit--except that I think forfeits
are stupid things."

"Instead of that," said Charlie, "let the unlucky wight who makes the
greatest number of blunders, have the privilege of proposing the first
game to-morrow."

"Very wel