towards your cottage!"

They did so. But what was their surprise, on beholding a tall edifice
of white marble, with a wide-open portal, occupying the spot where their
humble residence had so lately stood!

"There is your home," said the stranger, beneficently smiling on them
both. "Exercise your hospitality in yonder palace, as freely as in the
poor hovel to which you welcomed us last evening."

The old folks fell on their knees to thank him; but, behold! neither he
nor Quicksilver was there.

So Philemon and Baucis took up their residence in the marble palace, and
spent their time, with vast satisfaction to themselves, in making
everybody jolly and comfortable who happened to pass that way. The
milk-pitcher, I must not forget to say, retained its marvellous quality
of being never empty, when it was desirable to have it full. Whenever
an honest, good-humored, and free-hearted guest took a draught from this
pitcher, he invariably found it the sweetest and most invigorating fluid
that ever ran down his throat. But, if a cross and disagreeable
curmudgeon happened to sip, he was pretty certain to twist his visage
into a hard knot, and pronounce it a pitcher of sour milk!

Thus the old couple lived in their palace a great, great while, and grew
older and older, and very old indeed. At length, however, there came a
summer morning when Philemon and Baucis failed to make their appearance,
as on other mornings, with one hospitable smile overspreading both their
pleasant faces, to invite the guests of overnight to breakfast. The
guests searched everywhere, from top to bottom of the spacious palace,