in profound silence. On a sudden he thrust down his head
into his bosom, and mimicked the squeaking of a young pig so naturally
that the audience insisted upon it that he had one under his cloak and
ordered him to be searched, which, being done and nothing appearing,
they loaded him with the most extravagant applause.

A Countryman among the audience observed what passed. "Oh!" says he, "I
can do better than this"; and immediately gave out that he would perform
the next day. Accordingly on the morrow a yet greater crowd was
collected. Prepossessed, however, in favor of the Mountebank, they came
rather to laugh at the Countryman than to pass a fair judgment on him.
They both came out upon the stage. The Mountebank grunts away at first,
and calls forth the greatest clapping and applause. Then the Countryman,
pretending that he concealed a little pig under his garments (and he
had, in fact, really got one) pinched its ear till he made it squeak.
The people cried out that the Mountebank had imitated the pig much more
naturally, and hooted to the Countryman to quit the stage; but he, to
convict them to their face, produced the real pig from his bosom. "And
now, gentlemen, you may see," said he, "what a pretty sort of judges you
are!"

_It is easier to convict a man against his senses than against his
will._

233

Stories dealing with the disastrous effects of
"day-dreaming" are very common in the world's
literature. The three selections that follow
are given as very familiar samples for
comparison. The first is a simple version by
Jacobs.

THE MILKMAID AND HER PAIL

Patty, the Milkmaid, was going to market, carrying her milk in a Pail on
her head. As she went along she began calculating what she could do with
the money she would get for the milk. "I'll buy some fowls from Farmer
Brown," said she, "and they will lay eggs each morning, which I will
sell to the parson's wife. With the money that I get from the sale of
these eggs I'll buy myself a new dimity frock and a chip hat; and when I
go to market, won't all the young men come up and speak to me! Polly
Shaw will be that jealous; but I don't care. I shall just look at her
and toss my head like this." As she spoke, she tossed her head back, the
Pail fell off it and all the milk was spilt. So she had to go home and
tell her mother what had occurred.

"Ah, my child," said her mother,

"_Do not count your chicken