Myths and Legendary Heroes | Page 6

how wicked they are."
"I fear," said Mercury, smiling, "that you will not find any of them at
home."
The old people looked at the elder traveler and his face had grown very
grave and stern. "When men do not feel towards the poorest stranger as
if he were a brother," he said, in a deep, grave voice, "they are not
worthy to remain on the earth, which was made just to be the home for
the whole family of the human race of men and women and children."
"And, by the bye," said Mercury, with a look of fun and mischief in his
eyes, "where is this village you talk about? I do not see anything of it."
Philemon and his wife turned towards the valley, where at sunset only
the day before they had seen the trees and gardens, and the houses, and
the streets with the children playing in them. But there was no longer
any sign of the village. There was not even a valley. Instead, they saw a
broad lake which filled all the great basin from brim to brim, and
whose waters glistened and sparkled in the morning sun.
The village that had been there only yesterday was now gone!
"Alas! what has become of our poor neighbors?" cried the kind-hearted
old people.
"They are not men and women any longer," answered the elder traveler,
in a deep voice like distant thunder. "There was no beauty and no use in
lives such as theirs, for they had no love for one another, and no pity in
their hearts for those who were poor and weary. Therefore the lake that
was here in the old, old days has flowed over them, and they will be
men and women no more."
"Yes," said Mercury, with his mischievous smile, "these foolish people
have all been changed into fishes because they had cold blood which
never warmed their hearts, just as the fishes have."
"As for you, good Philemon, and you, kind Baucis," said the elder
traveler, "you, indeed, gave a hearty welcome to the homeless strangers.
You have done well, my dear old friends, and whatever wish you have

most at heart will be granted."
Philemon and Baucis looked at one another, and then I do not know
which spoke, but it seemed as if the voice came from them both. "Let
us live together while we live, and let us die together, at the same time,
for we have always loved one another."
"Be it so," said the elder stranger, and he held out his hands as if to
bless them. The old couple bent their heads and fell on their knees to
thank him, and when they lifted their eyes again, neither Mercury nor
his companion was to be seen.
So Philemon and Baucis returned to the cottage, and to every traveler
who passed that way they offered a drink of milk from the wonderful
pitcher, and if the guest was a kind, gentle soul, he found the milk the
sweetest and most refreshing he had ever tasted. But if a cross,
bad-tempered fellow took even a sip, he found the pitcher full of sour
milk, which made him twist his face with dislike and disappointment.
Baucis and Philemon lived a great, great many years and grew very old.
And one summer morning when their friends came to share their
breakfast, neither Baucis nor Philemon was to be found!
The guests looked everywhere, and all in vain. Then suddenly one of
them noticed two beautiful trees in the garden, just in front of the door.
One was an oak tree and the other a linden tree, and their branches were
twisted together so that they seemed to be embracing.
No one had ever seen these trees before, and while they were all
wondering how such fine trees could possibly have grown up in a
single night, there came a gentle wind which set the branches moving,
and then a mysterious voice was heard coming from the oak tree. "I am
old Philemon," it said; and again another voice whispered, "And I am
Baucis." And the people knew that the good old couple would live for a
hundred years or more in the heart of these lovely trees. And oh, what a
pleasant shade they flung around! Some kind soul built a seat under the
branches, and whenever a traveler sat down to rest he heard a pleasant
whisper of the leaves over his head, and he wondered why the sound
should seem to say, "Welcome, dear traveler, welcome."

PANDORA
ADAPTED BY C.E. SMITH
Long, long ago, when this old world was still very young, there lived a

child named Epimetheus. He had neither father nor mother, and to keep
him company, a little girl, who was