The next morning was the day on which he was to be slain. There was an
altar in front of the temple, and a great crowd assembled, ranked round
the open space. At the appointed hour the priest appeared, and with him
was the youth, holding his beloved by the hand, but she was blindfolded.
He let go her hand, knelt down, and in a moment the sacrificial knife
was drawn across his throat. His body was placed upon the wood, and the
priest was about to kindle it when a flash from heaven struck it into a
blaze with such heat that when the fire dropped no trace of the victim
remained. The girl, too, had disappeared, and was never seen again.

In accordance with the god's decree, no statue was erected, no poem was
composed, and no entry was made in the city records. But tradition did
not forget that the saviour of the city was he who survived in the great
image on which the name of the god was inscribed.



THE AGED TREE



An aged tree, whose companions had gone, having still a little sap in
its bark and a few leaves which grew therefrom, prayed it might see yet
another spring. Its prayer was granted: and spring came, but the old
tree had no leaves save one or two near the ground, and a great fungus
fixed itself on its trunk. It had a dull life in its roots, but not
enough to know that its moss and fungus were not foliage. It stood
there, an unlovely mass of decay, when the young trees were all
bursting. "That rotten thing," said the master, "ought to have been cut