One day a knight and a lady came riding up the road. The knight was not very strong, nor was his armour much to look at,--just an ordinary knight, but he was brave, and there was a mighty determination in his heart to slay the false, wicked witch whose deeds he had heard of. And as he rode he turned often to look into his lady's eyes, and always he seemed to drink new courage from those clear pools, as a thirsty man drinks refreshment from a well of cool water, for the lady was young and passing fair--as fair as Miss Jessica, and she, you know, is the loveliest woman in all the world. And so at last they came to where the witch was sitting and weeping. Without a word the knight drew his sword and rushed upon her. Of course she changed instantly to the monster with the hundred eyes and mouths and arms. The air was filled with the fire from her eyes and with the dreadful bellowing from her mouths, and her arms swung frantically about on every side to seize the knight and crush him. But this was the strange thing about the battle: as often as the knight looked at the lady, who stood near him, he gained new strength and the witch could not harm him. He was cutting off her arms one by one and victory was almost his, when down the road came an old man wagging his grey beard dolefully and muttering into his breast. And when he reached the three there at the roadside, he stood for a moment watching the battle and still muttering in his beard. Then without a word he beckoned to the lady. She hesitated, sighed, and turned away, leaving the poor knight to struggle alone without the blessing of her eyes. And immediately his strength seemed to abandon him and his sword dropped at his side. You may be sure the witch shouted with triumph at this, and the noise of her bellowing sounded like the clanging of a hundred discordant bells. It was almost over with the knight. But suddenly he too uttered a great cry. Despair came to give him strength where hope had been before. "For love and the world!" he cried out and drove at the monster once again with his uplifted sword. And, dear Jack, do you wish to know how the battle ended? I am very, very sorry, but I can't tell you, for when I came through the forest the knight and the witch were still fighting. There was a look of desperate determination in the knight's eyes, but, to tell you the truth, I think his heart was with the lady who had left him, and it is not easy to fight without a heart in this world, you know. Write to me soon, a long, long letter and tell me about the trees of Morningtown. Some day when you are grown up and live with men, you will be glad to remember the friendship and the wise conversation of those brothers of the forest. Good-bye for a time, my boy. Affectionately, PHILIP TOWERS. LIV FROM PHILIP'S DIARY