anybody came near her, that was positively savage.

The princess sat in her drawing-room, looking very thoughtful and rather sad. It was certainly very stupid work in the drawing-room that morning.

Friskarina got tired of such dull company, and set off into the garden. But first of all, she ran down into the court-yard, to have a little conversation with Bear, the watch-dog, and hear the news. Moreover, she wanted to find out how Bear's own affairs were going on, and whether he had enough to eat now. And so, after a little chat about the weather, and the probability of the wolves coming down from the mountains, and so forth, she ventured delicately to inquire into the state of his finances, as regarded bones and such things; and she learnt, to her great satisfaction, that, since the new cook came into office, Bear had been living in clover, as it were. Come, thought Friskarina, that's one good thing, however; now I may keep all my spare bits for poor Tibb! So, after a little further conversation about the affairs of the nation, for Bear was a great politician, and read the 'Canine Guardian' three times a week, and talked very learnedly about the game laws, the friends parted. Bear laid himself down to sleep in his kennel, and Friskarina scampered off into the garden, to watch for Tibb's descent over the wall.

Punctually as the great bell of the palace rung, Tibb's ears appeared among the top leaves of the ivy, and in a second she was at her benefactress's side, looking so much less miserable than she did at first, that it quite rejoiced Friskarina to look at her.

And now the house door opened, and out came a page, carrying a large dish full of chicken bones, slices of meat, pieces of fish, and such like delicate morsels, and closely followed by Mrs. Glumdalkin, making such a clamorous mewing that one would have thought she had had no breakfast.

Tibb, luckily, was hidden by a low bush; or I would not answer for it that Glumdalkin would not have flown at her. However, she was too much taken up with her dinner just then to look about her; for seeing a beautiful piece of cold sole among the bits on the dish, and being dreadfully afraid that Friskarina might take a fancy to it, she seized upon it, and swallowed such a great piece whole, that the back-bone stuck in her throat, and she could neither get it up nor down. She coughed—she gasped—but there the bone stuck,—she coughed again, quite convulsively, still the bone remained immovable; Friskarina, who was at a little distance, grew very much alarmed, and running up to her, thumped her on the back; but all in vain, her struggles became absolutely frightful to witness; she kicked, she groaned—she started to her feet, and ran, in an agony, like a mad thing, twice round the grass, shrieking with pain; at length, sinking down, completely exhausted, she stretched out her limbs, quite stiff, and giving a fearful groan, breathed her last!

Friskarina, exceedingly terrified, ran behind the bushes to call Tibb to her assistance, for she did not know, at first, that Glumdalkin was really dead: but what was her astonishment to find Tibb gone, and in the place where she had left her, an odd looking old lady, in a red satin petticoat, trimmed with gold fringe, a gray cloak, a hat with a very high crown, and she carried in her hand a long ebony stick, with a queer silver head to it.

'Come hither, pretty Friskarina!' cried the old lady; and stooping down, she patted her back, saying, 'So you were going to save your own dinner for me, you good little creature.' Friskarina looked at her with the utmost amazement; and it was not much lessened when the old Fairy (for it was the princess's aunt), stroking her again, thanked her for the good lesson she had taught her niece. What a strange old lady; thought Friskarina, what can she possibly mean?

Meanwhile, the princess had been looking out of the window, and perceived her fairy aunt, with a little secret consternation, for she was rather afraid of her; however, she hastened down stairs to receive her, wondering all the time what she could be come for.

'So, niece!' was the old lady's salutation, 'I find you have been indebted to your cat for the best lesson you have had for this many a day.'

The princess stooped down to kiss the fairy's hand. 'It is too true, indeed, dear aunt;' she replied, 'but I hope it is a lesson which I shall be the better for as long as I live. I blush to think that I should have been so long insensible to the wants and miseries of the poor people who were dwelling so near me, till, as you say, my little cat's example taught me how selfish and unfeeling I had been.'

'It is well for you, niece,' said the fairy, 'that you visited the poor old woman's cottage yesterday, and took her what was needful to supply her wants; for you little thought,' added the old woman, laughing rather maliciously, 'that the poor miserable cat, who was sitting behind the door, was your old aunt. I say, it was lucky for you that you bethought yourself at last of your duty; or, I promise you, the last should have been your very last night in your palace—that it should,' she continued with increasing vehemence, striking her stick on the ground till the walk rang again. 'Let me find things very different when I pay you my next visit!' And with these words, waving her ebony wand in the air, the fairy vanished; and the princess found that her own fine dress had disappeared too, and that a gown of plain gray cloth had taken its place.

But only imagine her consternation when she went into the palace! All the gay things were gone out of the drawing-room; the thick velvet curtains no longer hung from the windows—there were no soft easy chairs—no pretty ornaments; her beautiful silver nautilus-shell, with its pale blue satin curtains, was gone also; and in its place, there was a plain little bed, with brown stuff furniture, so exceedingly ugly and dismal, that the princess declared to herself she should never be able to get a wink of sleep in it. In short, all her favorite apartments wore an air of what seemed to her the most utter desolation.

Yet the princess had all the necessaries of life left; there was plenty of bread and meat in the larder, though all the dainty things were gone; there were coals and wood enough in the cellar; she had a good bed to lie upon; and her house was a palace still in comparison with the cottage of the poor old woman who lived near her gate. But she was some time in finding that out. Poor princess! when she looked round her drawing-room, she burst into tears. Just then, a voice near her said, 'They are taken away till you have learnt to pity others, and to be unselfish!' She turned, and caught a glimpse of the Fairy's red petticoat disappearing through the door-way.

When she was sufficiently recovered to go round the house, and see what was left, she found, to her great satisfaction, that all her money was spared, and she determined, in future, to make a very different use of it.

The melancholy decease of Glumdalkin threw several distinguished families in Catland into mourning; but I never heard that any body particularly lamented her.

'And so the princess and Friskarina went on living together in the palace?'

Why no, not exactly: but you shall hear about it. One fine bright morning, not many days after the Fairy's visit, Friskarina was sitting, all by herself, on the drawing-room window-seat, thinking over all the wonderful things that had happened, when suddenly she saw, flying past the house, a pair of milk-white doves, with silver collars