thing, we hope,
more interesting to be talked about. If you look at the group of
children, you may see them all gathered around Eustace Bright, who,
sitting on the stump of a tree, seems to be just beginning a story.
The fact is, the younger part of the troop have found out that it
takes rather too many of their short strides to measure the long
ascent of the hill. Cousin Eustace, therefore, has decided to leave
Sweet Fern, Cowslip, Squash-Blossom, and Dandelion, at this point,
midway up, until the return of the rest of the party from the summit.
And because they complain a little, and do not quite like to stay
behind, he gives them some apples out of his pocket, and proposes to
tell them a very pretty story. Hereupon they brighten up, and change
their grieved looks into the broadest kind of smiles.

As for the story, I was there to hear it, hidden behind a bush, and
shall tell it over to you in the pages that come next.

[Illustration]

THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER

[Illustration]

One evening, in times long ago, old Philemon and his old wife Baucis
sat at their cottage-door, enjoying the calm and beautiful sunset.
They had already eaten their frugal supper, and intended now to spend
a quiet hour or two before bedtime. So they talked together about
their garden, and their cow, and their bees, and their grapevine,
which clambered over the cottage-wall, and on which the grapes were
beginning to turn purple. But the rude shouts of children and the
fierce barking of dogs, in the village near at hand, grew louder and
louder, until, at last, it was hardly possible for Baucis and Philemon
to hear each other speak.

"Ah, wife," cried Philemon, "I fear some poor traveler is seeking
hospitality among our neighbors yonder, and, instead of giving him
food and lodging, they have set their dogs at him, as their custom
is!"

[Illustration: PHILEMON & BAVCIS]

"Well-a-day!" answered old Baucis, "I do wish our neighbors felt a
little more kindness for their fellow-creatures. And only think of
bringing up their children in this naughty way, and patting them on
the head when they fling stones at strangers!"

"Those children will never come to any good," said Philemon, shaking
his white head. "To tell you the truth, wife, I should not wonder if
some terrible thing were to happen to all the people in the village
unless they mend their manners. But, as for you and me, so long as
Providence affords us a crust of bread, let us