White. And so must I, for we may not always have a teacher on whom the old saying fits so well.
Gray. Old saying? What's that?
White. "Where ignorance is bliss—"
Gray. O, yes, "'Twere folly to be wise."
[Exeunt.
THE VULTURE OF THE ALPS.
ANONYMOUS.
[The following stirring poem is highly dramatic. The reader should, as far as possible, realize the feelings of the shepherd-parent as he sees "the youngest of his babes" borne in the iron-claws of the vulture high in mid air towards his golgotha of a nest. Much force of attitude and gesture is not only admissable, but called for, as the agonized father leans forward following the flight of the vulture.]