Free Twilight Land by Howard Pyle Page A

Gebhart had to go back again to his Greek and Latin and algebra and geometry; for, after all, one cannot pour a gallon of beer into a quart pot, or the wisdom of a Nicholas Flamel into such a one as Gebhart.
    As for the name of this story, why, if some promises are not bottles full of nothing but wind, there is little need to have a name for anything.

“SINCE we are in the way of talking of fools,” said the Fisherman who drew the Genie out of the sea—“since we are in the way of talking of fools, I can tell you a story of the fool of all fools, and how, one after the other, he wasted as good gifts as a man’s ears ever heard tell of.”
    “What was his name?” said the Lad who fiddled for the Devil in the bramble-bush
.
    “That,” said the Fisherman, “I do not know.”
    “And what is this story about?” asked St. George
.
    “’Tis,” said the Fisherman, “about a hole in the ground.”
    “And is that all?” said the Soldier who cheated the Devil
.
    “Nay,” said the Fisherman, blowing a whiff from his pipe; “there were some things in the hole—a bowl of treasure, an earthen-ware jar, and a pair of candlesticks.”
    “And what do you call your story?” said St. George
.
    “Why,” said the Fisherman, “for lack of a better name I will call it—

GOOD GIFTS AND A FOOL’S FOLLY
    Give a fool heaven and earth, and all the stars,
and he will make ducks and drakes of them
.
    O
nce upon a time there was an old man, who, by thrifty living and long saving, had laid by a fortune great enough to buy ease and comfort and pleasure for a lifetime.
    By-and-by he died, and the money came to his son, who was of a different sort from the father; for, what that one had gained by the labor of a whole year, the other spent in riotous living in one week.
    So it came about in a little while that the young man found himself without so much as a single penny to bless himself withal. Then his fair-weather friends left him, and the creditors came and seized upon his house and his household goods, and turned him out into the cold wide world to get along as best he might with the other fools who lived there.

    Now the young spendthrift was a strong, stout fellow, and, seeing nothing better to do, he sold his fine clothes and bought him a porter’s basket, and went and sat in the corner of the marketplace to hire himself out to carry this or that for folk who were better off in the world, and less foolish than he.
    There he sat, all day long, from morning until evening, but nobody came to hire him. But at last, as dusk was settling, there came along an old man with beard as white as snow hanging down below his waist. He stopped in front of the foolish spendthrift, and stood looking at him for a while; then, at last, seeming to be satisfied, he beckoned with his finger to the young man. “Come,” said he, “I have a task for you to do, and if you are wise, and keep a still tongue in your head, I will pay you as never a porter was paid before.”
    You may depend upon it the young man needed no second bidding to such a matter. Up he rose, and took his basket, and followed the old man, who led the way up one street and down another, until at last they came to a rickety, ramshackle house in a part of the town the young man had never been before. Here the old man stopped and knocked at the door, which was instantly opened, as though of itself, and then heentered with the young spendthrift at his heels. The two passed through a dark passage-way, and another door, and then, lo and behold! All was changed; for they had come suddenly into such a place as the young man would not have believed could be in such a house, had he not seen it with his own eyes. Thousands of waxen tapers lit the place as bright as day—a great oval room, floored with mosaic of a thousand bright colors and strange figures, and hung with tapestries of silks and satins and gold and silver. The ceiling was painted to represent the sky, through which flew