The older man was very tall, and walked calmly along, taking no notice
either of naughty children or yelping dogs.

When they reached the cottage gate, Philemon said, "We are very poor
folk, but you are welcome to whatever we have in the cupboard. My wife
Baucis has gone to see what you can have for supper."

They sat down on the bench, and the younger stranger let his staff
fall as he threw himself down on the grass, and then a strange thing
happened. The staff seemed to get up from the ground of its own
accord, and it opened a little pair of wings and half-hopped,
half-flew and leaned itself against the wall of the cottage.

Philemon was so amazed that he feared he had been dreaming, but before
he could ask any questions, the elder stranger said: "Was there not a
lake long ago covering the spot where the village now stands?"

"Never in my day," said old Philemon, "nor in my father's, nor my
grandfather's: there were always fields and meadows just as there are
now, and I suppose there always will be."

"That I am not so sure of," replied the stranger. "Since the people in
that village have forgotten how to be loving and gentle, maybe it were
better that the lake should be rippling over the cottages again," and
he looked very sad and stern.

He was a very important-looking man, Philemon felt, even though his
clothes were old and shabby; maybe he was some great learned stranger
who did not care at all for money or clothes, and was wandering about
the world seeking wisdom and knowledge. Philemon was quite sure he