[first story]
The Pavior AN Author saw a Labourer hammering stones into the pavement of a street, and approaching him said: "My friend, you seem weary. Ambition is a hard taskmaster." "I'm working for Mr. Jones, sir," the Labourer replied. "Well, cheer up," the Author resumed; "fame comes at the most unexpected times. To-day you are poor, obscure, and disheartened, and to-morrow the world may be ringing with your name." "What are you giving me?" the Labourer said. "Cannot an honest pavior perform his work in peace, and get his money for it, and his living by it, without others talking rot about ambition and hopes of fame?" "Cannot an honest writer?" said the Author.
[second story]
The Two Poets Two Poets were quarrelling for the Apple of Discord and the Bone of Contention, for they were very hungry. "My sons," said Apollo, "I will part the prizes between you. You," he said to the First Poet, "excel in Art - take the Apple. And you," he said to the Second Poet, "in Imagination - take the Bone." "To Art the best prize!" said the First Poet, triumphantly, and endeavouring to devour his award broke all his teeth. The Apple was a work of Art. "That shows our Master's contempt for mere Art," said the Second Poet, grinning. Thereupon he attempted to gnaw his Bone, but his teeth passed through it without resistance. It was an imaginary Bone.
