and I will be
good."

But the Stork pretended to be asleep, and only snored in reply. So the
Heron flew home in a huff. But the Stork could not truly sleep, he was
so lonely. So he rose, and, flying through the still night air, came
again to the Heron's home in the marsh.

"Come, my dear," he said. "Come home to your dear husband's house, and I
will be good."

But the Heron made no answer, pretending to be asleep. So the Stork flew
home in a huff. But the Heron could not truly sleep, she was so lonely.
So she rose at break of day, and, flying through the cool morning air,
came again to the Stork's nest.

"Come, Storkie dear," she said, "come home to your dear wife's house,
and I will be good."

But the Stork did not answer, he was so angry. So the Heron flew home in
a huff.

* * * * *

And if you are not asleep when you get as far as this, you may go on
with the story by yourself, perfectly well. You may go on just as long
as you can keep awake. For the tale has no end, no end at all. It is
still going on to this very day. The Stork still lives lonely on his
house-top, and the Heron still lives lonely in her marsh, growing
lonelier and lonelier, both of them. But because they have no tact, they
are never able to agree to the same thing at the same time. And they
keep flying back and forth, saying the same things over, and over, and
over, and over....

THE PHOENIX

On the top of a palm tree, in an oasis of the Arabian desert, sat the
Phoenix, glowering moodily upon the world below. He was alone, quite
alone, in his old age, as he had been alone in his youth, and in his
middle years; for the Phoenix has neither mate nor children, and there
is never but one of his kind upon the earth.

Once he had been proud of his solitariness and of his unusual beauty,
which caused such wonder when he went abroad. But now he was old and
weak and weary, and he was lonely, oh! so lonely! He had lived too long,
he thought.

For years and years and years, afar and apart, he had watched the coming
and going of things in the world. He had seen the other birds created,
and had watched them undergo strange changes in form and color until
they became as they are to-day. He had seen the hundred bright eyes of
Argus, the watchman, set in the Peacock's tail. He had seen the flaming
heart of the volcano tamed and quieted until it became the flaming
little Humming-Bird. He had seen the Crow turn