old Spindley Legs!"

Mr. Crow had spent many summers in Pleasant Valley. And during that time he had advised thousands of his neighbors. Indeed, he often boasted that if he had a kernel of corn for every bit of advice he had given away, he never would have to wonder where he was going to get his next meal.

When some friend of Mr. Crow's repeated that speech to Daddy Longlegs, he observed that Mr. Crow must be very wise.

"No doubt——" he added in his thin, quavering voice—"no doubt Mr. Crow'sp. 14 help would be worth a kernel of corn to anybody who was in trouble. If his advice was good, no one would object to paying for it. And if it proved to be bad, no one would miss a kernel of corn."

It happened that Daddy Longlegs' comment soon reached the ears of old Mr. Crow. And it made that gentleman furious.

"This is the first time anybody has suggested that my advice is not always first-class!" he croaked. "Here's this long-legged upstart interfering in my affairs. I must teach him a lesson!" Mr. Crow declared.

Well, that very afternoon he challenged Daddy Longlegs to a contest.

"I intend to prove," said Mr. Crow, "that my advice is always good; and that yours is always bad."

"Very well!" Daddy Longlegs anp. 15swered. "But I advise you to go home at once, Mr. Crow. You're very hoarse. And I'm sure you ought to be in bed."

Now, the old gentleman was always hoarse. And since he disliked to have anyone mention his infirmity, his eyes snapped angrily.

"I advise you——" he roared——"I advise you to keep your advice to yourself."

Of course that was a rude speech. But Daddy Longlegs did not take offense at it. He straightway told Mr. Crow that he ought to wear rubbers. And Mr. Crow