"Nothing can possibly be easier," returned the sick man; "the proper
service of the strong is to help the weak."

Again the fireman reflected, for there was nothing hasty about this
excellent creature. "I could forgive you being sick," he said at last,
as a portion of the wall fell out, "but I cannot bear your being such a
fool." And with that he heaved up his fireman's axe, for he was
eminently just, and clove the sick man to the bed.

V.--THE DEVIL AND THE INNKEEPER.

Once upon a time the devil stayed at an inn, where no one knew him, for
they were people whose education had been neglected. He was bent on
mischief, and for a time kept everybody by the ears. But at last the
innkeeper set a watch upon the devil and took him in the fact.

The innkeeper got a rope's end.

"Now I am going to thrash you," said the innkeeper.

"You have no right to be angry with me," said the devil. "I am only the
devil, and it is my nature to do wrong."

"Is that so?" asked the innkeeper.

"Fact, I assure you," said the devil.

"You really cannot help doing ill?" asked the innkeeper.

"Not in the smallest," said the devil; "it would be useless cruelty to
thrash a thing like me."

"It would indeed," said the innkeeper.

And he made a noose and hanged the devil.

"There!" said the innkeeper.

VI.--THE PENITENT

A man met a lad weeping. "What do you weep for?" he asked.

"I am weeping for my sins," said the lad.

"You must have little to do," said the man.

The next day they met again. Once more the lad was weeping. "Why do you
weep now?" asked the man.

"I am weeping because I have nothing to eat," said the lad.

"I thought it would come to that," said the man.

VII.--THE YELLOW PAINT.

In a certain city there lived a physician who sold yellow paint. This
was of so singular a virtue that whoso was bedaubed with it from head to
heel was set free from the dangers of life, and the bondage of sin, and
the fear of death for ever. So the physician said in his prospectus; and
so said all the citizens in the city; and there was nothing more urgent
in men's hearts than to be properly painted themselves, and nothing they
took more delight in than to see others painted. There was in the same
city a young man of a very good family but of a somewhat reckless life,
who had reached the age of manhood, and would have nothing to say to the
paint: "To-morrow was soon enough," said he; and when th