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The wise man made a cross upon the woman’s forehead, and up she sat, as well–but no better–as before.

“And now be off,” said the cook, “or I will call the servants and give you both a drubbing for a pair of scamps.”

Simon Agricola said never a word until they had gotten out of the town. There his anger boiled over, like water into the fire. “Look,” said he to Babo: “Born a fool, live a fool, die a fool.’ I want no more of you. Here are two roads; you take one, and I will take the other.”

“What!” said Babo, “am I to travel the rest of the way alone? And then, besides, how about the fortune you promised me?”

“Never mind that,” said Simon Agricola; “I have not made my own fortune yet.”

“Well, at least pay me something for my wages,” said Babo.

“How shall I pay you?” said Simon Agricola. “I have not a single groat in the world.”

“What!” said Babo, “have you nothing to give me?”

“I can give you a piece of advice.”

“Well,” said Babo, “that is better than nothing, so let me have it.”

“Here it is,” said Simon Agricola: “Think well! Think well!–before you do what you are about to do, think well!'”

“Thank you!” said Babo; and then the one went one way, and the other the other.

(You may go with the wise man if you choose, but I shall jog along with the simpleton.)

After Babo had travelled for a while, he knew not whither, night caught him, and he lay down under a hedge to sleep. There he lay, and snored away like a saw-mill, for he was wearied with his long journeying.

Now it chanced that that same night two thieves had broken into a miser’s house, and had stolen an iron pot full of gold money. Day broke before they reached home, so down they sat to consider the matter; and the place where they seated themselves was on the other side of the hedge where Babo lay. The older thief was for carrying the money home under his coat; the younger was for burying it until night had come again. They squabbled and bickered and argued till the noise they made wakened Babo, and he sat up. The first thing he thought of was the advice that the doctor had given him the evening before.

“Think well!'” he bawled out; “think well! before you do what you are about to do, think well!'”

When the two thieves heard Babo’s piece of advice, they thought that the judge’s officers were after them for sure and certain. Down they dropped the pot of money, and away they scampered as fast as their legs could carry them.

Babo heard them running, and poked his head through the hedge, and there lay the pot of gold. “Look now,” said he: “this has come from the advice that was given me; no one ever gave me advice that was worth so much before.” So he picked up the pot of gold, and off he marched with it.

He had not gone far before he met two of the king’s officers, and you may guess how they opened their eyes when they saw him travelling along the highway with a pot full of gold money.

“Where are you going with that money?” said they.

“I don’t know,” said Babo.

“How did you get it?” said they.

“I got it for a piece of advice,” said Babo.

For a piece of advice! No, no–the king’s officers knew butter from lard, and truth from t’other thing. It was just the same in that country as it is in our town–there was nothing in the world so cheap as advice. Whoever heard of anybody giving a pot of gold and silver money for it? Without another word they marched Babo and his pot of money off to the king.

“Come,” said the king, “tell me truly; where did you get the pot of money?”