morial birthright of mankind), and
putting them into shapes of indestructible beauty, indeed, but cold
and heartless, have done all subsequent ages an incalculable injury."

"Which you, doubtless, were born to remedy," said Mr. Pringle,
laughing outright. "Well, well, go on; but take my advice, and never
put any of your travesties on paper. And, as your next effort, what if
you should try your hand on some one of the legends of Apollo?"

"Ah, sir, you propose it as an impossibility," observed the student,
after a moment's meditation; "and, to be sure, at first thought, the
idea of a Gothic Apollo strikes one rather ludicrously. But I will
turn over your suggestion in my mind, and do not quite despair of
success."

During the above discussion, the children (who understood not a word
of it) had grown very sleepy, and were now sent off to bed. Their
drowsy babble was heard, ascending the staircase, while a northwest
wind roared loudly among the tree-tops of Tanglewood, and played an
anthem around the house. Eustace Bright went back to the study, and
again endeavored to hammer out some verses, but fell asleep between
two of the rhymes.

[Illustration]

THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER

[Illustration]

THE HILL-SIDE

INTRODUCTORY TO THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER

And when, and where, do you think we find the children next? No longer
in the winter-time, but in the merry month of May. No longer in
Tanglewood play-room, or at Tanglewood fireside, but more than halfway
up a monstrous hill, or a mountain, as perhaps it would be better
pleased to have us call it. They had set out from home with the mighty
purpose of climbing this high hill, even to the very tiptop of its
bald head. To be sure, it was not quite so high as Chimborazo or Mont
Blanc, and was even a good deal lower than old Graylock. But, at any
rate, it was higher than a thousand ant-hillocks or a million of
mole-hills; and, when measured by the short strides of little
children, might be reckoned a very respectable mountain.

And was Cousin Eustace with the party? Of that you may be certain;
else how could the book go on a step farther? He was now in the middle
of the spring vacation, and looked pretty much as we saw him four or
five months ago, except that, if you gazed quite closely at his upper
lip, you could discern the funniest little bit of a mustache upon it.
Setting aside this mark of mature manhood, you might have considered
Cousin Eustace just as much a