es came in very slowly, and he blamed himself
that he had not asked his luck to let him turn up three at a time
instead of only one at the end of each furrow; so he had no comfort in
his gathering wealth. As day followed day he grew thin and haggard and
worn, but seven boxes of bright new gold-pieces lay hidden in the
cellar, of which nobody knew but himself. He told no one how rich he was
growing, and all of his neighbors wondered why he did not starve to
death.

So you see the ill luck in his breeches pocket had the best of the
bargain, after all.

After Hans had gone the way of all men, his heirs found the chests full
of gold in the cellar, and therewith they bought fat lands and became
noblemen and gentlemen; but that made Hans's luck none the better.

From all this I gather:

That few folks can turn ill luck into good luck.
That the best thing for one to do is to let well enough alone.
That one cannot get happiness as one does cabbages--with
money.
That happiness is the only good luck, after all!

[Illustration: Ye Song of ye Rajah & ye Fly. This illustrated poem
depicts the Rajah in the various stages of the poem.]

YE SONG OF YE RAJAH & YE FLY

Great and rich beyond comparing
Was the Rajah Rhama Jaring,
As he went to take an airing
With his Court one summer day.
All were gay with green and yellow;
And a little darky fellow
Bore a monstrous fun umbrella,
For to shade him on the way.

Now a certain fly, unwitting
Of this grandeur, came a-flitting
To the Royal nose, and sitting
Twirled his legs upon the same.
Then the Rajah's eyes blazed fire
At the insult, and the ire
In his heart boiled high and higher.
Slap! he struck, but missed his aim.

Then all trembled at this passion,
For he spoke in furious fashion.
"Saw ye how yon fly did dash on
To our august nose!" he said.
"Now let all within our nation
Wage a war without cessation
War of b-lood, ex-ter-mi-nation,
Until every fly is dead!!!!"

Now the while this war was raging,
That the rajah was a-waging,
Things that should have been engaging
His attention went to pot.
So he came at last to begging,
Though the flies continued plaguing.
For it's not so easy pegging
Out vexation thus, I wot.

From this you may see what all have to expect,
Who, fighting small troubles, great duties neglect.

H. Pyle

[Illustration: Pride in Distress. This full page illustrated poem shows
the mistress walking along with oth