ruffled his feathers as a
bird does, till he appeared to be twice his actual size, and then he
strode forward and struck Woof so powerful a blow that his skull
crackled like an egg-shell and he fell prone upon the ground.

While the assembled bears stood looking with fear and wonder at
their fallen champion the sky became darkened.

An hundred gulls flew down from above and dripped upon the king's
body a skin covered with pure white hair that glittered in the sun
like silver.

And behold! the bears saw before them the well-known form of their
wise and respected master, and with one accord they bowed their
shaggy heads in homage to the mighty King of the Polar Bears.

* * * * *

This story teaches us that true dignity and courage depend not upon
outward appearance, but come rather from within; also that brag and
bluster are poor weapons to carry into battle.

THE MANDARIN AND THE BUTTERFLY

A mandarin once lived in Kiang-ho who was so exceedingly cross and
disagreeable that everyone hated him. He snarled and stormed at
every person he met and was never known to laugh or be merry under
any circumstances. Especially he hated boys and girls; for the boys
jeered at him, which aroused his wrath, and the girls made fun of
him, which hurt his pride.

When he had become so unpopular that no one would speak to him, the
emperor heard about it and commanded him to emigrate to America.
This suited the mandarin very well; but before he left China he
stole the Great Book of Magic that belonged to the wise magician
Haot-sai. Then, gathering up his little store of money, he took ship
for America.

He settled in a city of the middle west and of course started a
laundry, since that seems to be the natural vocation of every
Chinaman, be he coolie or mandarin.

He made no acquaintances with the other Chinamen of the town, who,
when they met him and saw the red button in his hat, knew him for a
real mandarin and bowed low before him. He put up a red and white
sign and people brought their laundry to him and got paper checks,
with Chinese characters upon them, in exchange, this being the only
sort of character the mandarin had left.

One day as the ugly one was ironing in his shop in the basement of
263 1/2 Main street, he looked up and saw a crowd of childish faces
pressed against the window. Most Chinamen make friends with
children; this one hated them and tried to drive them away. But as
soon as he returned to his