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The Crooked Stick

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 First Traveller: What's that lying in the dust? 
Second Traveller: A crooked stick.
First Traveller: What's it worth, if you can trust to arithmetic? Second Traveller: Isn't this a riddle? First Traveller: No, a trick.
Second Traveller:It's worthless, leave it where it lies.
First Traveller: Wait; count ten; Rub a little dust upon your eyes; Now, look again.
Second Traveller: Well, and what the devil is it, then? First Traveller: It's the sort of crooked stick that shepherds know.
Second Traveller: Someone's loss! First Traveller: Bend it, and you make of it a bow.
Break it, a cross.
Second Traveller: But it's all grown over with moss!

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