ore questions?" exclaimed the Sage, as the Damsel tapped gently upon the door of his cave.

   "Women are never satisfied; they are as restless as the sea, and when they have received all the best advice they invariably follow their own inclinations."

   "It was not to discuss women," replied the Damsel, timidly; "this time it is of a man I wish to ask."

   "Begin, then, and have done quickly," growled the Sage, averting his head. The Damsel had an outline against the sky which caused ideas not tranquillizing for Hermits.

   "I wish to know why a man who possessed the most beautiful and noble Bird of Paradise—a bird of rare plumage and wonderful qualities—should suddenly see more beauty in an ordinary Cockatoo, whose only attraction was its yellow feathers—a Cockatoo that screamed monotonously as it swung backward and forward on its perch, and would eat sugar out of the hand of any stranger while it cried 'Pretty Poll.' The man could not afford to buy this creature also, so he deliberately sold his exquisite Bird of Paradise to a person called Circumstance and with the money became the possessor of the Cockatoo, who pierced the drums of his ears with its eternal 'Pretty Poll' and wearied his sight with its yellow feathers. Why did the man do this?"

   The Sage laughed at so simple a question.

   "Because he was a man, and even a screaming Cockatoo belonging to some one else has more charm at times than the most divine Bird of Paradise belonging to himself."

   "But was it worth while to sell this rare thing for a very ordinary one?" demanded the Damsel.

   "Certainly not," said the Sage, impatiently. "What childish questions you ask! The thing was a folly on the face of it; but, as I said before, he was a man—and the Cockatoo belonged to some one else!"

   "Then what will happen now?" asked the Damsel, placing herself in the direction in which the Sage had turned his head.

   "The Bird of Paradise will still be the most beautiful and glorious and desirable bird in the world; and when the man realizes he has lost it forever he will begin to value its every feather, and will spend his days in comparing all its remembered perfections and advantages with the screams and the yellow feathers of the Cockatoo."

   "And what will the Cockatoo do?" inquired the 

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