And Nurse Holloweg, who had really been much alarmed at so nearly losing her precious charge, thought it wise to agree to Miss Muffet’s terms.

She kept her word, too, and when Little Miss Muffet went back to her home in the city her cheeks were as red as roses and her eyes sparkled with health.  And she grew, in time, to be a beautiful young lady, and as healthy and robust as she was beautiful.  Seeing which, the doctor put an extra large fee in his bill for advising that the little girl be taken to the country; and Mr. Muffet paid it without a word of protest.

Even after Miss Muffet grew up and was married she never forgot the day that she ran away, nor the curds and whey she ate for her supper, nor the great spider that frightened her away from the tuffet.

Three Wise Men of Gotham

Three Wise Men of Gotham

    Three Wise Men of Gotham
    Went to sea in a bowl. 
    If the bowl had been stronger
    My tale had been longer.

There lived in the great city of Gotham, over against the north gate, a man who possessed a very wise aspect, but very little else.  He was tall and lean, and had a fine large head, bald and smooth upon the top, with a circle of white hair behind the ears.  His beard was pure white, and reached to his waist; his eyes were small, dark, and so piercing that they seemed to read your every thought.  His eyebrows were very heavy, and as white as his beard.  He dressed in a long black mantle with a girdle corded about the middle, and he walked slowly and majestically, and talked no more than he was obliged to.

When this man passed down the street with his stately tread the people all removed their hats and bowed to him with great reverence, saying within themselves,

“He is very wise, this great man; he is a second Socrates.”

And soon this was the only name he was called by, and everyone in Gotham knew him as “Socrates.”

To be sure this man was not really wise.  Had they realized the truth, not one he met but knew more than Socrates; but his venerable appearance certainly betokened great wisdom, and no one appeared to remember that things are seldom what they seem.

Socrates would strut about with bowed head and arms clasped behind him, and think: 

“My! how wise these people take me to be.  Everyone admires my beautiful beard.  When I look into their faces they drop their eyes.  I am, in truth, a wonderful man, and if I say nothing they will believe I am full of wisdom.  Ah, here comes the schoolmaster; I shall frown heavily and refuse to notice him, for then he also will be deceived and think I am pondering upon matters of great import.”  Really, the one wise thing about this Socrates was his ability to keep quiet.  For, saying no word, it was impossible he should betray his ignorance.

Singularly enough, over by the south gate of Gotham there dwelt another wise man, of much the same appearance as Socrates.  His white beard was a trifle longer and he had lost his left eye, which was covered by a black patch; but in all other ways his person betokened as much wisdom as that of the other.