and, kissing it, praised Allah for the loving gift, and called the child Evöe.

At sun-set, alone in his chamber, he prayed that the little babe might live to be a solace and a comfort to him in the winter of his days, and that she might cling unto him, and so twine around him in his old age, that she should shed a new beauty over his decay, and pour about him the perfume of life, even to his parting hour-like a Rose beside a Ruin.

But Ulphilas was stricken to the ground with sorrow, to find that, as the infant bud blossomed into the child, his little Evöe neither spake nor heard. Yet he hoped in patience.

Two years passed, and still the little one neither spake nor heard.

And, when Ulphilas found that the ears of his first-born were sealed to the fond babblings of its mother, and that its tongue was tied and could not utter the long-wished-for music of " Abba, Father," he grew sad and sullen. And he shut himself in his chamber, and railed at the world, saying, "There is naught but evil in it."

In the depth of his affliction, he sent for the wisest and most learned of his Dervishes. And, when the Priest had come to him, the king said, "Tell me, O Welee! thou favorite of God, what hath my little one done, that he whom thou callest all Justice, should have visited her thus heavily."

The Dervish, bowing, answered, "the ways of Allah were hidden from his children, but that He was the Compassionate, the Merciful.”

Then Ulphilas, with a laugh of scorn, blasphemed, and, murmuring at the will of the Most High, asked in mockery whether it was "merciful or compassionate to punish the innocent?"

So the Dervish strove to comfort the King, and spake of the wondrous bounty spread over the face of the Earth, telling him how each little ill was found, when rightly understood, to minister to some great and kindly end.

But Ulphilas only thought of the affliction of his child, and laughed in scorn the more, saying, "It is a dark and dreary world, and there is no good in it."

Then the Welee, moved by the blasphemous stubborness of the monarch, drew himself up in anger and said, in a solemn voice, "Listen, proud King, thou to whom the world is dark and dreary, and who canst see no good in it. Listen! and gather knowledge from the birds of the air."

And he spake this Fable :—

"Of all the birds, the Owl was held to be the wisest. He lived by himself in a mighty castle, far away from the haunts of men. He never went abroad but at night, and saw the world only in its darkness. All the day through he sat in his dusky chamber, brooding over the eternal gloom that

seemed to him to cover up the whole Earth. For so perverted was his sight, that, in his dull eyes, the brightest light was as the blackest shade; and what was sunny day to others was cloudy night to him.

"And, when at twilight his dismal day began, he would sally forth, and as he flew through the damp and chilly air and saw the black fields spread out beneath him, he would hoot at every thingsaying, 'It is a dark and dreary world, and there is no good in it.'

"And so, because he railed at all things, looking at Nature only in her dullest aspect, and dwelt alone, shunning communion with every creature, he was said to be the most sedate and wisest of birds.

'Now, it chanced one morning, as the sun was rising, that the Owl, seeing his night beginning to set in, was hastening home to rest, when a little Lark, fresh risen from its grassy bed, was singing high up in the air above him.

"The Lark heard the hooting of the Owl, and the Owl heard the caroling of the Lark; and, in the ears of the happy little Lark, to whom all Nature seemed to be rejoicing in the increasing brightness, the railing of the Owl sounded harsh and ungrateful—while, to the melancholy Owl, in whose eyes the world appeared only to be growing more dark and dreary than before, the gay song of the Lark sounded but as the outpouring of thoughtless vanity.

"Then the Owl, looking up, said to the Lark, 'Cease that empty song, thou silly bird! When the world is dark and dreary, and the Earth full of woe, is it meet for one of God's creatures to sing? Go home, foolish one! and learn some strain more fitting to the gloom that overshadows all things.'

"But the little Lark, wondering within himself how the Owl could see that gloomy which to him appeared bathed in a flood of light, cried down to the Owl, saying, 'Come up with me! come up with me! Thou art too close to the Earth to see its brightness. Come nearer Heaven, and look down upon the beauty spread so bounteously over all things, and then thou wilt sing as joyously as I do, seeing the world is not dark and dreary, nor the Earth full of woe.'

"So the Owl, with great labor, mounted after the Lark. And, as he traveled up, the Lark cried to the Owl, Now, look down, and see the opening flowers-their colors freshened with the dew! See how they shine in the sun, like a rainbow spread over the earth as another token of God's lovingkindness to man! Look at the rivers, like threads of silver! Look at the cornfields, like plates of gold! Look at the fruit trees, bowed down with their luscious loads, that sparkle like many-colored gems in the sunshine! Look at the shadows of the passing clouds, fleeting over the sunny fields like breath upon a mirror! Look at the warm

smooth valleys, spread out like a peaceful lake; and look at the billowy, snow-topped mountains, heaving as if they were the white crested waves of the land!'

And, as the Lark said this, he sang louder than before; and the burden of his song was, 'thanks be to God for his wondrous goodness! for the Earth is not dark and dreary, nor the world full of woe.' But the Owl was blinded with the light that the Lark rejoiced in, and only answered, Foolish bird! thou shouldst look at the world with my eyes, and then thou wouldst see nothing bright in it. The nearer I get to Heaven the blacker the earth appears to me; for verily, it is a dark and dreary world with no good in it!'

"So the Lark flew away, saying, 'Wise as they say thou art, O Owl! still couldst thou look at the Earth with my eyes, thou wouldst know that the universal gloom thou seest exists not in the world, but in thine own perverted sight.'

'And, verily, O King," added the Welee, "the wisdom of the happy Lark was tenfold the wisdom of the melancholy Owl."

Now, when the monarch heard this, he grew sad, and beat his breast, and upbraided himself for his complainings. And he put on a woolen garment of a sad-blue color, and fasted each day, from the rising to the setting of the sun. Then, on the first Friday of the new moon, he went on a pil