ll try it directly." And he
bent his bow, took aim, and shot an arrow at the old poet, right into
his heart. "You see now that my bow was not spoiled," said he,
laughing; and away he ran.

The naughty boy! to shoot the old poet in that way; he who had taken
him into his warm room, who had treated him so kindly, and who had
given him warm wine and the very best apples!

The poor poet lay on the earth and wept, for the arrow had really
flown into his heart.

"Fie!" said he, "how naughty a boy Cupid is! I will tell all children
about him, that they may take care and not play with him, for he will
only cause them sorrow and many a heart-ache."

And all good children to whom he related this story, took great heed
of this naughty Cupid; but he made fools of them still, for he is
astonishingly cunning. When the university students come from the
lectures, he runs beside them in a black coat, and with a book under
his arm. It is quite impossible for them to know him, and they walk
along with him arm in arm, as if he, too, were a student like
themselves; and then, unperceived, he thrusts an arrow to their bosom.
When the young maidens come from being examined by the clergyman, or
go to church to be confirmed, there he is again close behind them.
Yes, he is for ever following people. At the play he sits in the great
chandelier and burns in bright flames, so that people think it is
really a flame, but they soon discover it is something else. He roves
about in the garden of the palace and upon the ramparts: yes, once he
even shot your father and mother right in the heart. Ask them only,
and you will hear what they'll tell you. Oh, he is a naughty boy, that
Cupid; you must never have anything to do with him. He is for ever
running after everybody. Only think, he shot an arrow once at your old
grandmother! But that is a long time ago, and it is all past now;
however, a thing of that sort she never forgets. Fie, naughty Cupid!
But now you know him, and you know, too, how ill-behaved he is!

------------

THE TWO NEIGHBORING FAMILIES.

We really might have thought something of importance was going on in
the duck-pond, but there was nothing going on. All the ducks that were
resting tranquilly on the water, or were standing in it on their
heads--for that they were able to do--swam suddenly to the shore: you
could see in the wet ground the traces of their feet, and hear their
quacking far and near. The water, which but just