A Wonder Book for Girls & BoysHawthorne, Nathaniel
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A Wonder Book for Girls & Boys
Hawthorne, Nathaniel
Mythology, Greek; Mythology, Greek -- Juvenile literature
"As for you, good Philemon," continued the elder traveler,--"and you,
kind Baucis,--you, with your scanty means, have mingled so much
heartfelt hospitality with your entertainment of the homeless
stranger, that the milk became an inexhaustible fount of nectar, and
the brown loaf and the honey were ambrosia. Thus, the divinities have
feasted, at your board, off the same viands that supply their banquets
on Olympus. You have done well, my dear old friends. Wherefore,
request whatever favor you have most at heart, and it is granted."
Philemon and Baucis looked at one another, and then,--I know not which
of the two it was who spoke, but that one uttered the desire of both
their hearts.
"Let us live together, while we live, and leave the world at the same
instant, when we die! For we have always loved one another!"
"Be it so!" replied the stranger, with majestic kindness. "Now, look
towards your cottage!"
They did so. But what was their surprise on beholding a tall edifice
of white marble, with a wide-open portal, occupying the spot where
their humble residence had so lately stood!
"There is your home," said the stranger, beneficently smiling on them
both. "Exercise your hospitality in yonder palace as freely as in the
poor hovel to which you welcomed us last evening."
The old folks fell on their knees to thank him; but, behold! neither
he nor Quicksilver was there.
So Philemon and Baucis took up their residence in the marble palace,
and spent their time, with vast satisfaction to themselves, in making
everybody jolly and comfortable who happened to pass that way. The
milk-pitcher, I must not forget to say, retained its marvelous quality
of being never empty, when it was desirable to have it full. Whenever
an honest, good-humored, and free-hearted guest took a draught from
this pitcher, he invariably found it the sweetest and most
invigorating fluid that ever ran down his throat. But, if a cross and
disagreeable curmudgeon happened to sip, he was pretty certain to
twist his visage into a hard knot, and pronounce it a pitcher of sour
milk!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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