he appeared to discover every little thought that but
peeped into their minds, before they suspected it themselves. They
sometimes wished, it is true, that he had not been quite so
quick-witted, and also that he would fling away his staff, which
looked so mysteriously mischievous, with the snakes always writhing
about it. But then, again, Quicksilver showed himself so very
good-humored, that they would have been rejoiced to keep him in their
cottage, staff, snakes, and all, every day, and the whole day long.

"Ah me! Well-a-day!" exclaimed Philemon, when they had walked a little
way from their door. "If our neighbors only knew what a blessed thing
it is to show hospitality to strangers, they would tie up all their
dogs, and never allow their children to fling another stone."

"It is a sin and shame for them to behave so,--that it is!" cried good
old Baucis, vehemently. "And I mean to go this very day, and tell some
of them what naughty people they are!"

"I fear," remarked Quicksilver, slyly smiling, "that you will find
none of them at home."

The elder traveler's brow, just then, assumed such a grave, stern, and
awful grandeur, yet serene withal, that neither Baucis nor Philemon
dared to speak a word. They gazed reverently into his face, as if they
had been gazing at the sky.

"When men do not feel towards the humblest stranger as if he were a
brother," said the traveler, in tones so deep that they sounded like
those of an organ, "they are unworthy to exist on earth, which was
created as the abode of a great human brotherhood!"

"And, by the by, my dear old people," cried Quicksilver, with the
liveliest look of fun and mischief in his eyes, "where is this same
village that you talk about? On which side of us does it lie? Methinks
I do not see it hereabouts."

Philemon and his wife turned towards the valley, where, at sunset,
only the day before, they had seen the meadows, the houses, the
gardens, the clumps of trees, the wide, green-margined street, with
children playing in it, and all the tokens of business, enjoyment, and
prosperity. But what was their astonishment! There was no longer any
appearance of a village! Even the fertile vale, in the hollow of which
it lay, had ceased to have existence. In its stead, they beheld the
broad, blue surface of a lake, which filled the great basin of the
valley from brim to brim, and reflected the surrounding hills in its
bosom with as tranquil an image as if it had been