for you, and the lightest breeze must seem like a
storm-wind. Now look at me! No storm has ever been able to bow my
head. You will be much safer if you grow close to my side so that I may
shelter you from the wind that is now playing with my leaves."

"Do not worry about me," said the reed; "I have less reason to fear the
wind than you have. I bow myself, but I never break. He who laughs last,
laughs best!"

That night there came a fearful hurricane. The oak stood erect. The
reed bowed itself before the blast. The wind grew more furious, and,
uprooting the proud oak, flung it on the ground.

When the morning came there stood the slender reed, glittering with
dewdrops, and softly swaying in the breeze.

BAUCIS AND PHILEMON

ADAPTED FROM H. P. MASKEL'S RENDERING OF THE GREEK MYTH

On the slopes of the Phrygian hills, there once dwelt a pious old couple
named Baucis and Philemon. They had lived all their lives in a tiny
cottage of wattles, thatched with straw, cheerful and content in spite
of their poverty.

As this worthy couple sat dozing by the fireside one evening in the late
autumn, two strangers came and begged a shelter for the night. They had
to stoop to enter the humble doorway, where the old man welcomed them
heartily and bade them rest their weary limbs on the settle before the
fire.

Meanwhile Baucis stirred the embers, blowing them into a flame with dry
leaves, and heaped on the fagots to boil the stew-pot. Hanging from the
blackened beams was a rusty side of bacon. Philemon cut off a rasher
to roast, and, while his guests refreshed themselves with a wash at the
rustic trough, he gathered pot-herbs from his patch of garden. Then the
old woman, her hands trembling with age, laid the cloth and spread the
table.

It was a frugal meal, but one that hungry wayfarers could well relish.
The first course was an omelette of curdled milk and eggs, garnished
with radishes and served on rude oaken platters. The cups of turned
beechwood were filled with homemade wine from an earthen jug. The second
course consisted of dried figs and dates, plums, sweet-smelling apples,
and grapes, with a piece of clear, white honeycomb. What made the
meal more grateful to the guests was the hearty spirit in which it was
offered. Their hosts gave all they had without stint or grudging.

But all at once something happened which startled and amazed Baucis and
Philemon. They poured out wine for their guests, and, lo! each tim