What is the meaning of all this? Why, here it is: When a rogue and another cracks a nut together, it is not often the rogue who breaks his teeth by trying to eat the hulls. And this too: But when one sets a trap for another, it is a toss of a copper whether or no it flies up and pinches his own fingers. If there is anything more left in the dish you may scrape it for yourself. [Illustration] [Illustration] Eleven O’clock· Who goes about the _House_ when all Are sleeping but the _Clock_, And no one hears it, all alone, [Sidenote: ☽] Still saying tick-a-tock? [Sidenote: ⚲☊ K.P.] It is not _Gretchen_ goes about, She’s snoring in her _Bed_; It’s not the _Hound_ that goes about He never lifts his _Head_; It is the _Wind_ that goes about, [Sidenote: ☾] And sighs around the _House_, And never wakes the toothless _Hound_, Or stops the gnawing _Mouse_. [Illustration: King Stork.] XXIII. There was a drummer marching along the high-road—forward march!—left, right!—tramp, tramp, tramp!—for the fighting was done, and he was coming home from the wars. By and by he came to a great wide stream of water, and there sat an old man as gnarled and as bent as the hoops in a cooper shop. “Are you going to cross the water?” said he. “Yes,” says the drummer, “I am going to do that if my legs hold out to carry me.” “And will you not help a poor body across?” says the old man. Now, the drummer was as good-natured a lad as ever stood on two legs. “If the young never gave a lift to the old,” says he to himself, “the wide world would not be worth while living in.” So he took off his shoes and stockings, and then he bent his back and took the old man on it, and away he started through the water—splash! But this was no common old man whom the drummer was carrying, and he was not long finding that out, for the farther he went in the water the heavier grew his load—like work put off until to-morrow—so that, when he was half-way across, his legs shook under him and the sweat stood on his forehead like a string of beads in the shop-window. But by and by he reached the other shore, and the old man jumped down from his back. “Phew!” says the drummer, “I am glad to be here at last!” And now for the wonder of all this: The old man was an old man no longer, but a splendid tall fellow with hair as yellow as gold. “And who do you think I am?” said he. But of that the drummer knew no more than the mouse in the haystack, so he shook his head, and said nothing.