hand to the two men,
he said, "Welcome, strangers, welcome."

"Thank you," answered the younger of the two travelers. "Yours is a
kind welcome, very different from the one we got in the village; pray
why do you live in such a bad place?"

"I think," answered Philemon, "that Providence put me here just to
make up as best I can for other people's unkindness."

The traveler laughed heartily, and Philemon was glad to see him in
such good spirits. He took a good look at him and his companion. The
younger man was very thin, and was dressed in an odd kind of way.
Though it was a summer evening, he wore a cloak which was wrapped
tightly about him; and he had a cap on his head, the brim of which
stuck out over both ears. There was something queer too about his
shoes, but as it was getting dark, Philemon could not see exactly what
they were like.

One thing struck Philemon very much, the traveler was so wonderfully
light and active that it seemed as if his feet were only kept close to
the ground with difficulty. He had a staff in his hand which was the
oddest-looking staff Philemon had seen. It was made of wood and had a
little pair of wings near the top. Two snakes cut into the wood were
twisted round the staff, and these were so well carved that Philemon
almost thought he could see them wriggling.

The older man was very tall, and walked calmly along, taking no notice
either of naughty children or yelping dogs.

When they reached the cottage gate, Philemon said, "We are very poor
folk, but you are welcome to whatever we have in the cupboard. My wife
Baucis has gone to see what you can have for supper."

They sat down on the bench, and the younger stranger let his staff
fall as he threw himself down on the grass, and then a strange thing
happened. The staff seemed to get up from the ground of its own
accord, and it opened a little pair of wings and half-hopped,
half-flew and leaned itself against the wall of the cottage.

Philemon was so amazed that he feared he had been dreaming, but before
he could ask any questions, the elder stranger said: "Was there not a
lake long ago covering the spot where the village now stands?"

"Never in my day," said old Philemon, "nor in my father's, nor my
grandfather's: there were always fields and meadows just as there are
now, and I suppose there always will be."

"That I am not so sure of," replied the stranger. "Since the people in
that village have forgotten how to be loving and