ed that the foliage of a great branch which stretched above
his head had begun to rustle, as if the wind were stirring that one
bough, while all the other boughs of the oak were at rest.

"Cut me off!" said the branch, as soon as it could speak distinctly;
"cut me off! cut me off! and carve me into a figure-head for your
galley."

Accordingly, Jason took the branch at its word, and lopped it off the
tree. A carver in the neighborhood engaged to make the figurehead.
He was a tolerably good workman, and had already carved several
figure-heads, in what he intended for feminine shapes, and looking
pretty much like those which we see nowadays stuck up under a vessel's
bowsprit, with great staring eyes, that never wink at the dash of the
spray. But (what was very strange) the carver found that his hand was
guided by some unseen power, and by a skill beyond his own, and that his
tools shaped out an image which he had never dreamed of. When the work
was finished, it turned out to be the figure of a beautiful woman, with
a helmet on her head, from beneath which the long ringlets fell down
upon her shoulders. On the left arm was a shield, and in its center
appeared a lifelike representation of the head of Medusa with the snaky
locks. The right arm was extended, as if pointing onward. The face of
this wonderful statue, though not angry or forbidding, was so grave and
majestic, that perhaps you might call it severe; and as for the mouth,
it seemed just ready to unclose its lips, and utter words of the deepest
wisdom.

Jason was delighted with the oaken image, and gave the carver no rest
until it was completed, and set up where a figure-head has always stood,
from that time to this, in the vessel's prow.

"And now," cried he, as he stood gazing at the calm, majestic face of
the statue, "I must go to the Talking Oak and inquire what next to do."

"There is no need of that, Jason," said a voice which, though it was
far lower, reminded him of the mighty tones of the great oak. "When you
desire good advice, you can seek it of me."

Jason had been looking straight into the face of the image when these
words were spoken. But he could hardly believe either his ears or his
eyes. The truth was, however, that the oaken lips had moved, and, to all
appearance, the voice had proceeded from the statue's mouth. Recovering
a little from his surprise, Jason bethought himself that the image had
been carved out of the wood of the Talking Oak, an