THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. Isl

“Tam old Baucis!” murmured the linden-tree.

But, as the breeze grew stronger, the trees both spoke
at once, — ** Philemon! Baucis! Baucis! Philemon! ”
—as if one were both and both were one, and talking
together in the depths of their mutual heart. It was
plain enough to perceive that the good old couple had
renewed their age, and were now to spend a quiet and
delightful hundred years or so, Philemon as an oak,
and Baucis as a linden-tree. “And oh, what a hospitable
shade did they fling around them! Whenever a way-
farer paused beneath it, he heard a pleasant whisper of
the leaves above his head, and wondered how tle sound
should so much resemble words like these : —

‘““ Welcome, welcome, dear traveller, welcome! ”

And some kind soul, that knew what would have
pleased old Baucis and old Philemon best, built a cir-
cular seat around both their trunks, where, for a great
while afterwards, the weary, and the hungry, and the
thirsty used to repose themselves, and quaff milk abun-
dantly out of the miraculous pitcher.

And I wish, for all our sakes, that we had the pitcher
here now!