On the bench designed for the guests was laid a cushion stuffed with sea-weed; and a cloth, only produced on great occasions, but ancient and coarse enough, was spread over that.  The old lady, with her apron on, with trembling hand set the table.  One leg was shorter than the rest, but a piece of slate put under restored the level.  When fixed, she rubbed the table down with some sweet-smelling herbs.  Upon it she set some of chaste Minerva’s olives, some cornel berries preserved in vinegar, and added radishes and cheese, with eggs lightly cooked in the ashes.  All were served in earthen dishes, and an earthenware pitcher, with wooden cups, stood beside them.  When all was ready, the stew, smoking hot, was set on the table.  Some wine, not of the oldest, was added; and for dessert, apples and wild honey; and over and above all, friendly faces, and simple but hearty welcome.

Now while the repast proceeded, the old folks were astonished to see that the wine, as fast as it was poured out, renewed itself in the pitcher, of its own accord.  Struck with terror, Baucis and Philemon recognized their heavenly guests, fell on their knees, and with clasped hands implored forgiveness for their poor entertainment.  There was an old goose, which they kept as the guardian of their humble cottage; and they bethought them to make this a sacrifice in honor of their guests.  But the goose, too nimble, with the aid of feet and wings, for the old folks, eluded their pursuit, and at last took shelter between the gods themselves.  They forbade it to be slain; and spoke in these words:  “We are gods.  This inhospitable village shall pay the penalty of its impiety; you alone shall go free from the chastisement.  Quit your house, and come with us to the top of yonder hill.”  They hastened to obey, and, staff in hand, labored up the steep ascent.  They had reached to within an arrow’s flight of the top, when turning their eyes below, they beheld all the country sunk in a lake, only their own house left standing.  While they gazed with wonder at the sight, and lamented the fate of their neighbors, that old house of theirs was changed into a temple.  Columns took the place of the corner posts, the thatch grew yellow and appeared a gilded roof, the floors became marble, the doors were enriched with carving and ornaments of gold.  Then spoke Jupiter in benignant accents:  “Excellent old man, and woman worthy of such a husband, speak, tell us your wishes; what favor have you to ask of us?” Philemon took counsel with Baucis a few moments; then declared to the gods their united wish.  “We ask to be priests and guardians of this your temple; and since here we have passed our lives in love and concord, we wish that one and the same hour may take us both from life, that I may not live to see her grave, nor be laid in my own by her.”  Their prayer was granted.  They were the keepers of the temple as long as they lived.  When grown very old, as they stood one day before the steps of the sacred edifice,