tle matters. He griped the
cudgel in his right hand, and struck the dancers with might and main,
just as the old man had done. Crack! crack! crack! one; two; three.

Did they change into piles of gold? Not a bit of it! Each of the dancers
drew from under his robe a cudgel as stout and stouter than the one the
young man himself held, and, without a word, fell upon him and began to
beat and drub him until the dust flew. In vain he hopped and howled and
begged for mercy, in vain he tried to defend himself; the three never
stopped until he fell to the ground, and laid there panting and sighing
and groaning; and then they left and flew back with the iron candlestick
and the magic carpet to the old man again. At last, after a great while,
the young spendthrift sat up, rubbing the sore places; but when he
looked around not a sign was to be seen of anything but the stony
desert, without a house or a man in sight.

Perhaps, after a long time, he found his way home again, and perhaps
the drubbing he had had taught him wisdom; the first is a likely enough
thing to happen, but as for the second, it would need three strong men
to tell it to me a great many times before I would believe it.

You may smile at this story if you like, but, all the same, as certainly
as there is meat in an egg-shell, so is there truth in this nonsense.
For, "Give a fool heaven and earth," say I, "and all the stars, and he
will make ducks and drakes of them."

Fortunatus lifted his canican to his lips and took a long, hearty
draught of ale. "Methinks," said he, "that all your stories have a
twang of the same sort about them. You all of you, except my friend the
Soldier here, play the same tune upon a different fiddle. Nobody comes
to any good."

St. George drew a long whiff of his pipe, and then puffed out a cloud of
smoke as big as his head. "Perhaps," said he to Fortunatus, "you know of
a story which turns out differently. If you do, let us have it, for it
is your turn now."

"Very well," said Fortunatus, "I will tell you a story that turns out as
it should, where the lad marries a beautiful princess and becomes a king
into the bargain."

"And what is your story about?" said the Lad who fiddled for Jew in the
bramble-bush.

"It is," said Fortunatus, "about--"

The Good of a Few Words

There was one Beppo the Wise and another Beppo the Foolish.

The wise one was the father of the foolish one.

Beppo the Wise was called Beppo the Wis