CVIII.


A rustic, preparing to devour an apple, was addressed by a brace of
crafty and covetous birds:

"Nice apple that," said one, critically examining it. "I don't wish to
disparage it--wouldn't say a word against that vegetable for all the
world. But I never can look upon an apple of that variety without
thinking of my poisoned nestling! Ah! so plump, and rosy,
and--rotten!"

"Just so," said the other. "And you remember my good father, who
perished in that orchard. Strange that so fair a skin should cover so
vile a heart!"

Just then another fowl came flying up.

[Illustration]

"I came in, all haste," said he, "to warn you about that fruit. My
late lamented wife ate some off the same tree. Alas! how comely to the
eye, and how essentially noxious!"

"I am very grateful," the young man said; "but I am unable to
comprehend how the sight of this pretty piece of painted confectionery