golden hair and threw it on the floor. It twanged like the string of a violin.
“What is it, mother?” the old man said. “What is it?”
“Nothing, my boy, nothing. I was asleep and had a wonderful dream.”
“What did you dream about, mother?”
“I dreamt about a city where they had a well of living water. If any one drank of it, no matter how sick he was, he would get well. Nay, if he were already dead, this water, sprinkled on him, would bring him back to life. For the last twenty years the well has gone dry. Is there anything to be done to make it flow again?”
“Yes. There’s a frog sitting on the spring that feeds the well. Let them kill the frog and clean out the well and the water will flow as before.”
When he fell asleep again the old woman pulled out another golden hair and threw it on the floor.
“What is it, mother?”
“Nothing, my boy, nothing. I was asleep again and I had a wonderful dream. I dreamt of a city where they had an apple-tree that bore apples of youth. If any one ate one of those apples, no matter how aged he was, he’d become young again. But for
