He seized the opportunity at once, and bending clown over the groaning form, kissed his forehead, raised him from the ground and said gently: "Forgive my anger, my son! the words that have grieved thee came not from my heart, but were spoken in the haste of wrath.

Many years hast thou angered me by thy coldness, hardness and obstinacy; to-day thou hast wounded me again in my most sacred feelings; this hurried me into an excess of wrath.

But now all is right between us.

Our natures are so diverse that our innermost feelings will never be one, but at least we can act in concert for the future, and show forbearance one towards the other." In silence Psamtik bowed down and kissed his father's robe "Not so," exclaimed the latter; "rather let my lips receive thy kiss, as is meet and fitting between father and son! Thou needest not to think again of the evil dream I have related.

Dreams are phantoms, and even if sent by the gods, the interpreters thereof are human and erring.