him to see her miserly master.  He finds the
money-lender reclining on a scanty couch, as
short as Codrus's bed.  He is on the point of
beginning his evening meal.  His wife is sitting
at his feet; and, before them, is a bare
table, to which he points, saying hospitably,
"You see all we have to offer!"  Then, bidding
his wife rise, and dragging his unwilling
guest into her place, he apologises for the
want of furniture, on the ground of his dread
of robbers; and, after a compliment on the
handsome figure of Lucius, invites him to
occupy a nook in his cottage.  Our hero
accepts the invitation: but, observing Milo's
parsimonious style of living, he determines to
forage for himself on his way to his evening
bath.  Accordingly he goes to the market,
and buys a basket of fish.  Just then, he is
recognised by an old friend, named Pythias,
whose dress and retinue show him to be a
magistrate.  He is now, indeed, one of the
Ædiles, and an inspector of the fish-market.
He catches sight of the basket, and inquires
how much has been given for the bargain.
The price is exorbitant: and, on hearing it,
Pythias grasps Lucius by the hand; and,
leading him back to the stall, in the harshest
tone which the majesty of the Ædile could
assume, threatens to show the fishmonger
how rogues should be treated.  Then, emptying
the basket in the middle of the road, he
orders one of the attendants to trample on
the fishes.  Satisfied with his own sternness,
he advises his friend to come away, adding,
"The disgrace is punishment enough for the
old fellow."  Lucius stands aghast at this
rigorous system of administration; but there
is no help for it; so, deprived at once of his
money and his fish, and wearied with his
long journey, and an evening without any
supper except Milo's conversation, he betakes
himself to bed.

Now the female portion of the moneylender's
household consists of two ladies,
Pamphile and Fotis.  The popular belief of
Hypata represents the former as a notorious
witch; the mistress of every sepulchral incantation.
By the slightest puff of her breath
upon a branch, or a stone or any other inanimate
object, she can extinguish the light of
the heavenly bodies, and plunge the world
into the darkness of chaos.  She becomes
enamoured of every handsome youth she
meets; and, if he refuses to favour her passion,
she changes him into some brutish form.
Fotis is her mistress's confidante; but her
knowledge is not accompanied by the impatience
and dark temper which characterises
Pamphile.  On the contrary, she is pert and
coquettish, and readily responds to, if she
does not anticipate, the advances of Lucius.
His fancy is taken by her elegant figure, and
he determines to follow up an intimacy which
may guide him to the occult knowledge he is
in search of.  At length the opportunity for
which he has been waiting, arrives.  He is
admitted by Fotis to see Pamphile transform
herself into an owl, and fly to her lover.
The sight excites his desire to follow.  At
length, Fotis, yielding to his entreaties, produces
a box of ointment from her mistress's
cabinet.  Elated at the sight of the precious
treasure, he kisses the box several times ;
and, uttering repeated aspirations for a
prosperous flight, strips off his clothes as
quickly as possible ; dips his fingers greedily
into the box ; and having thence extracted a
good large lump of ointment, rubs it over all
his body and limbs.  When his limbs are
thoroughly anointed, he swings his arms up
and down in imitation of a bird's pinions,
expecting to wing his way through the air,
incontinent ; but instead of any feathers
making their appearance, his own skin, alas !
grew into a hard leathern hide, covered with
bristly hair ; his fingers and toes disappeared ;
the palms of his hands and the soles of his
feet became firm, solid hoofs ; and— horror of
horrors ! — from the end of his spine a long
tail protruded.  His face was enormous, his
mouth wide, his nostrils gaping, his lips
pendulous, and he had a pair of immoderately
long, rough, hairy ears.  In short, when he
came to contemplate his transformation to its
full extent, he found that, instead of a bird,
he had become changed into an ass.

Fotis, in her eagerness, head mistaken the
box; and, though a compound of rose-leaves
would reverse the transformation, she has
neglected to weave for her lover his evening
chaplet, and he must take his place in the
stable till they can be gathered at dawn of day.
But at midnight Milo's house is sacked by a
band of robbers, and long before dawn, Lucius,
laden with the spoils of his late host, is far on
his road to their cave in the mountains.

The cave is supposed to have suggested the
corresponding tale in Gil Bias.  The presiding
genius— its dame Leonarda— is a crone
bent double by age, and with the voice of a
screech-owl, who attends upon the robbers,
and receives in reward a rich return of invective
upon her habits and appearance.  Soon
another inmate arrives, a young lady whom
the robbers have captured in one of their
raids.  They hand her over to the beldame
for consolation; but kind words and harsh
looks are alike unavailing; so, promising her
an old wives' tale, she repeats the legend of
Cupid and Psyche.  The lady listens, and is
soothed; and Lucius, forgetting his transformation,
regrets that he has not his pen
and tablets that he may note down every
word.  Relief, however, more substantial, is
at hand.  The robbers have taken the resolution
to slay Lucius, and sew the lady up in
his hide, when a young man offers himself as
a volunteer to the horde, and they are induced,
from his commanding stature, his
boasted achievements, and the rich prize he
throws into the common stock, to take him at
once for their leader.  The youth is the
young lady's lover, and, by his manœuvres,
soon effects her deliverance.  All the