Children's Rhymes, Children's Games, Children's Songs, Children's Stories / A Book for Bairns and Big Folk

by Robert Ford

THE LITTLE GLASS SLIPPER.

There was once a very rich gentleman who lost his wife; and having loved her exceedingly, he was very sorry when she died. Finding himself quite unhappy for her loss, he resolved to marry a second time, thinking by this means he should be as happy as before. Unfortunately, however, the lady he chanced to fix upon was the proudest and most haughty woman ever known; she was always out of humour with every one; nobody could please her, and she returned the civilities of those about her with the most affronting disdain. She had two daughters by a former husband, whom she brought up to be proud and idle: indeed, in temper and behaviour they perfectly resembled their mother; they did not love their books, and would not learn to work; in short, they were disliked by everybody.

The gentleman on his side, too, had a daughter, who, in sweetness of temper and carriage, was the exact likeness of her own mother, whose death he had so much lamented, and whose tender care of the little girl he was in hopes to see replaced by that of his new bride.

But scarcely was the marriage ceremony over, before his wife began to show her real temper; she could not bear the pretty little girl, because her sweet obliging manners made those of her own daughters appear a thousand times the more odious and disagreeable.

She therefore ordered her to live in the kitchen; and, if ever she brought anything into the parlour, always scolded her till she was out of sight. She made her work with the servants, in washing the dishes, and rubbing the tables and chairs: it was her place to clean madam's chamber, and that of the misses, her daughters, which was all inlaid, had beds of the newest fashion, and looking-glasses so long and broad, that they saw themselves from head to foot in them; while the little creature herself was forced to sleep up in a sorry garret, upon a wretched straw bed, without curtains, or anything to make her comfortable.

The poor child bore all this with the greatest patience, not daring to complain to her father, who, she feared, would only reprove her, for she saw that his wife governed him entirely. When she had done all her work she used to sit in the chimney corner among the cinders; so that in the house she went by the name of Cinderbreech: the youngest of the two sisters, however, being rather more civil than the eldest, called her Cinderella. And Cinderella, dirty and ragged as she was, as often happens in such cases, was a thousand times prettier than her sisters, drest out in all their splendour.

It happened that the king's son gave a ball, to which he invited all the persons of fashion in the country: our two misses were of the number; for the king's son did not know how disagreeable they were; but supposed, as they were so much indulged, that they were extremely amiable. He did not invite Cinderella, for he had never seen or heard of her.

The two sisters began immediately to be very busy in preparing for the happy day: nothing could exceed their joy; every moment of their time was spent in fancying such gowns, shoes, and head-dresses as would set them off to the greatest advantage. All this was new vexation to poor Cinderella, for it was she who ironed and plaited her sisters' muslins. They talked of nothing but how they should be dressed.

"I," said the eldest, "will wear my scarlet velvet with French trimming."

"And I," said the youngest, "shall wear the same petticoat I had made for the last ball; but then, to make amends for that, I shall put on my gold muslin train, and wear my diamonds in my hair; with these I must certainly look well."

They sent several miles for the best hairdresser that was to be had, and all their ornaments were bought at the most fashionable shops.

On the morning of the ball they called up Cinderella to consult with her about their dress, for they knew she had a great deal of taste. Cinderella gave them the best advice she could, and even offered to assist them in adjusting their head-dresses; which was exactly what they wanted, and they accordingly accepted her proposals.

While Cinderella was busily engaged in dressing her sisters, they said to her, "Should you not like, Cinderella, to go to the ball?"

"Ah," replied Cinderella, "you are only laughing at me; it is not for such as I am to think of going to balls."

"You are in the right," said they; "folks might laugh indeed to see a Cinderbreech dancing in a ball-room."

Any other than Cinderella would have tried to make the haughty creatures look as ugly as she could; but the sweet-tempered girl, on the contrary, did every thing she could think of to make them look well.

The sisters had scarcely eaten anything for two days, so great was their joy as the happy day drew near. More than a dozen laces were broken in endeavouring to give them a fine slender shape, and they were always before the looking-glass.

At length the much-wished-for moment arrived; the proud misses stepped into a beautiful carriage, and, followed by servants in rich liveries, drove towards the palace. Cinderella followed them with her eyes as far as she could; and when they were out of sight, she sat down in a corner and began to cry.

Her godmother, who saw her in tears, asked what ailed her.

"I wish—I w-i-s-h," sobbed poor Cinderella, without being able to say another word.

The godmother, who was a fairy, said to her, "You wish to go to the ball, Cinderella; is not this the truth?"

"Alas! yes," replied the poor child, sobbing still more than before.

"Well, well, be a good girl," said the godmother, "and you shall go."

She then led Cinderella to her bed-chamber, and said to her, "Run into the garden and bring me a pumpion."

Cinderella flew like lightning, and brought the finest she could lay hold of. Her godmother scooped out the inside, leaving nothing but the rind; she then struck it with her wand, and the pumpion instantly became a fine coach gilded all over with gold. She next looked into her mouse-trap, where she found six mice all alive and brisk. She told Cinderella to lift up the door of the trap very gently; and as the mice passed out, she touched them one by one with her wand, and each immediately became a beautiful horse of a fine dapple grey mouse-colour.

"Here, my child," said the godmother, "is a coach and horse, too, as handsome as your sisters; but what shall we do for a postilion?"

"I will run," replied Cinderella, "and see if there be not a rat in the rat-trap. If I find one, he will do very well for a postilion."

"Well thought of, my child!" said her godmother; "make what haste you can."

Cinderella brought the rat-trap, which to her great joy, contained three of the largest rats ever seen. The fairy chose the one which had the longest beard, and touching him with her wand, he was instantly turned into a smart, handsome postilion, with the finest pair of whiskers imaginable.

She next said to Cinderella, "Go again into the garden, and you will find six lizards behind the watering-pot; bring them hither."

This was no sooner done, than, with a stroke from the fairy's wand, they were changed into six footmen, who all immediately jumped up behind the coach in gold-laced liveries, and stood side by side as cleverly as if they had been used to nothing else the whole of their lives.

The fairy then said to Cinderella, "Well, my dear, is not this such an equipage as you could wish for to take you to the ball? Are you not delighted with it?"

"Y-e-s," replied Cinderella, with hesitation; "but must I go thither in these filthy rags?"

Her godmother touched her with the wand, and her rags instantly became the most magnificent apparel, ornamented with the most costly jewels in the whole world. To these she added a beautiful pair of glass slippers, and bade her set out for the palace.

The fairy, however, before she took leave of Cinderella, strictly charged her on no account whatever to stay at the ball after the clock had struck twelve; telling her that, should she stay but a single moment after that time, her coach would again become a pumpion, her horses mice, her footmen lizards, and her fine clothes be changed to filthy rags.

Cinderella did not fail to promise all her godmother desired of her; and, almost wild with joy, drove away to the palace.

As soon as she arrived, the king's son, who had been informed that a great princess whom nobody knew was come to the ball, presented himself at the door of the carriage, helped her out, and conducted her to the ball-room.

Cinderella no sooner appeared than every one was silent; both the dancing and the music stopped, and everybody was employed in gazing at the uncommon beauty of this unknown stranger: nothing was heard but whispers of "How handsome she is!" The king himself, old as he was, could not keep his eyes from her, and continually repeated to the queen, that it was a long time since he had seen so lovely a creature. The ladies endeavoured to find out how her clothes were made, that they might get some of the same pattern for themselves by the next day, should they be lucky enough to meet with such handsome materials, and such good workpeople to make them.

The king's son conducted her to the most honourable seat, and soon after took her out to dance with him. She both moved and danced so gracefully, that every one admired her still more than before, and she was thought the most beautiful and accomplished lady ever beheld.

After some time a delicious collation was served up; but the young prince was so busily employed in looking at her, that he did not eat a morsel.

Cinderella seated herself near her sisters, paid them a thousand attentions, and offered them a part of the oranges and sweetmeats with which the prince had presented her; while they on their part were quite astonished at these civilities from a lady whom they did not know.

As they were conversing together, Cinderella heard the clock strike eleven and three quarters: she rose from her seat, curtsied to the company, and hastened away as fast as she could.

As soon as she got home she flew to her godmother, and, after thanking her a thousand times, told her she would give the world to be able to go again to the ball the next day, for the king's son had entreated her to be there.

While she was telling her godmother everything that had happened to her at the ball, the two sisters knocked a loud rat-tat-tat at the door, which Cinderella opened.

"How late you have stayed!" said she, yawning, rubbing her eyes, and stretching herself as if just awaked out of her sleep, though she had in truth felt no desire to sleep since they left her.

"If you had been at the ball," said one of the sisters, "let me tell you, you would not have been sleepy: there came thither the handsomest, yes, the very handsomest princess ever beheld! She paid us a thousand attentions, and made us take a part of the oranges and sweetmeats the prince had given her."

Cinderella could scarcely contain herself for joy: she asked her sisters the name of the princess: to which they replied, that nobody had been able to discover who she was; that the king's son was extremely grieved on that account, and had offered a large reward to any person who could find out where she came from.

Cinderella smiled, and said, "How very beautiful she must be! How fortunate you are! Ah, could I but see her for a single moment! Dear Miss Charlotte, lend me only the yellow gown you wear every day, and let me go and see her."

"Oh, yes, I warrant you; lend my clothes to a Cinderbreech! Do you really suppose me such a fool? No, no; pray, Miss Forward, mind your proper business, and leave dress and balls to your betters."

Cinderella expected some such answer, and was by no means sorry, for she would have been sadly at a loss what to do if her sister had lent her the clothes that she asked of her.

The next day the two sisters again appeared at the ball, and so did Cinderella, but dressed much more magnificently than the night before. The king's son was continually by her side, and said the most obliging things to her imaginable.

The charming young creature was far from being tired of all the agreeable things she met with: on the contrary, she was so delighted with them, that she entirely forgot the charge her godmother had given her.

Cinderella at last heard the striking of a clock, and counted one, two, three, on till she came to twelve, though she had thought that it could be but eleven at most. She got up and flew as nimbly as a deer out of the ball-room.

The prince tried to overtake her; but Cinderella's fright made her run the faster. However, in her great hurry, she dropped one of the little glass slippers from her foot, which the prince stooped down and picked up, and took the greatest care of it possible.

Cinderella got home tired and out of breath, in her dirty old clothes, without either coach or footman, and having nothing left of her magnificence but the fellow of the glass slipper which she had dropped.

In the meanwhile, the prince had enquired of all his guards at the palace gates, if they had not seen a magnificent princess pass out, and which way she went?

The guards replied that no princess had passed the gates; and that they had not seen a creature but a little ragged girl, who looked more like a beggar than a princess.

When the two sisters returned from the ball, Cinderella asked them if they had been as much amused as the night before, and if the beautiful princess had been there? They told her that she had; but that as soon as the clock struck twelve she hurried away from the ball-room, and in the great haste she made, had dropped one of her glass slippers, which was the prettiest shape that could be; that the king's son had picked it up, and had done nothing but looked at it all the rest of the evening; and that everybody believed he was violently in love with the handsome lady to whom it belonged.

This was very true; for a few days after, the prince had it proclaimed by sound of trumpet, that he would marry the lady whose foot should exactly fit the slipper he had found.

Accordingly the prince's messengers took the slipper, and carried it first to all the princesses; then to the duchesses: in short, to all the ladies of the court—but without success.

They then brought it to the two sisters, who each tried all she could to squeeze her foot into the slipper, but saw at last that this was quite impossible.

Cinderella, who was looking at them all the while, and knew her slipper, could not help smiling, and ventured to say, "Pray, sir, let me try to get on the slipper."

Her sisters burst out a-laughing in the rudest manner possible:—"Very likely, truly," said one of them, "that such a clumsy foot as your's should fit the slipper of a beautiful princess."

The gentleman, however, who brought the slipper, turned round, looked at Cinderella, and observing that she was very handsome, said, that as he was ordered by the prince to try it on every one till it fitted, it was just that Cinderella should have her turn.

Saying this, he made her sit down: and putting the slipper to her foot, it instantly slipped in, and he saw that it fitted her like wax.

The two sisters were amazed to see that the slipper fitted Cinderella: but how much greater was their astonishment, when she drew out of her pocket the other slipper and put it on!

Just at this moment the fairy entered the room, and touching Cinderella's clothes with her wand, made her all at once appear more magnificently dressed than they had seen her before.

The two sisters immediately perceived that she was the beautiful princess they had seen at the ball. They threw themselves at her feet, and asked her forgiveness for the ill treatment she had received from them. Cinderella helped them to rise, and, tenderly embracing them, said that she forgave them with all her heart, and begged them to bestow upon her their affection.

Cinderella was then conducted, drest as she was, to the young prince, who finding her more beautiful than ever, instantly desired her to accept of his hand.

The marriage ceremony took place in a few days; and Cinderella, who was as amiable as she was handsome, gave her sisters magnificent apartments in the palace, and a short time after married them to two great lords of the court.

---

PUSS IN BOOTS.

There was a miller who had three sons, and when he died he divided what he possessed among them in the following manner:—He gave his mill to the eldest, his ass to the second, and his cat to the youngest.

Each of the brothers accordingly took what belonged to him without the help of an attorney, who would soon have brought their little fortune to nothing in law expenses.

The poor young fellow who had nothing but the cat complained that he was hardly used:— "My brothers," said he, "by joining their stocks together, may do very well in the world; as for me, when I have eaten my cat, and made a fur-cap of his skin, I may soon die of hunger!"

The cat, which all this time sat listening just inside the door of a cupboard, now ventured to come out, and addressed him as follows:—

"Do not thus afflict yourself, my good master; you have only to give me a bag, and get a pair of boots made for me, so that I may scamper through the dirt and the brambles, and you shall see that you are not so ill provided for as you imagine."

Though the cat's master did not much depend upon these promises, yet as he had often observed the cunning tricks Puss used to catch rats and mice, such as hanging by the hindlegs, and hiding in the meal to make them believe that he was dead, he did not entirely despair of his being of some use to him in his unhappy condition.

When the cat had obtained what he asked for, he gaily began to equip himself; he drew on the boots—and putting the bag about his neck, he took hold of the strings with his forepaws, and, bidding his master take courage, immediately sallied forth.

The first attempt Puss made was to go into a warren, in which there was a great number of rabbits. He put some bran and some parsley into his bag; and then, stretching himself out at full length as if he was dead, he waited for some young rabbits (which as yet knew nothing of the cunning tricks of the world) to come and get into the bag, the better to feast upon the dainties he had put into it.

Scarcely had he laid down before he succeeded as well as could be wished. A giddy young rabbit crept into the bag, and the cat immediately drew the strings, and killed him without mercy.

Puss, proud of his prey, hastened directly to the palace, where he asked to speak to the king. On being shown into the apartment of his majesty, he made a low bow, and said—"I have brought you, sire, this rabbit from the warren of my lord the Marquis of Carabas, who commanded me to present it to your majesty with the assurance of his respect." This was the title the cat thought proper to bestow upon his master.

"Tell my lord Marquis of Carabas," replied the king, "that I accept of his present with pleasure, and that I am greatly obliged to him."

Soon after the cat laid himself down in the same manner in a field of corn, and had as much good fortune as before; for two fine partridges got into his bag, which he immediately killed and carried to the palace. The king received them as he had done the rabbit, and ordered his servants to give the messenger something to drink. In this manner he continued to carry presents of game to the king from my lord Marquis of Carabas, once at least every week.

One day, the cat having heard that the king intended to take a ride that morning by the river side with his daughter, who was the most beautiful princess in the world, he said to his master, "If you will but follow my advice your fortune is made. Take off your clothes, and bathe yourself in the river, just in the place I shall show you, and leave the rest to me."

The Marquis of Carabas did exactly as he was desired, without being able to guess what the cat intended. While he was bathing, the king passed by, and Puss directly called out as loud as he could bawl "Help! help! my lord Marquis of Carabas is in danger of being drowned!"

The king hearing the cries, put his head out at the window of his carriage to see what was the matter; when, perceiving the very cat which had brought him so many presents, he ordered his attendants to go directly to the assistance of my lord Marquis of Carabas.

While they were employed in taking the Marquis out of the river, the cat ran to the king's carriage and told his majesty, that while his master was bathing, some thieves had run off with his clothes as they lay by the river side, the cunning cat all the time having hid them under a large stone.

The king hearing this, commanded the officers of his wardrobe to fetch one of the handsomest suits it contained, and present it to my lord Marquis of Carabas, at the same time loading him with a thousand attentions. As the fine clothes they brought him made him look like a gentleman, and set off his person, which was very comely, to the greatest advantage, the king's daughter was mightily taken with his appearance, and the Marquis of Carabas had no sooner cast upon her two or three respectful glances, than she became violently in love with him.

The king insisted on his getting into the carriage, and taking a ride with them. The cat, enchanted to see how well his scheme was likely to succeed, ran before to a meadow that was reaping, and said to the reapers, "Good people, if you do not tell the king, who will soon pass this way, that the meadow you are reaping belongs to my lord Marquis of Carabas, you shall be chopped as small as minced meat."

The king did not fail to ask the reapers to whom the meadow belonged, "To my lord Marquis of Carabas," said they all at once; for the threats of the cat had terribly frightened them.

"You have here a very fine piece of land, my lord Marquis," said the king.

"Truly, sire," replied he, "it does not fail to bring me every year a plentiful harvest."

The cat, which still went on before, now came to a field where some other labourers were making sheaves of the corn they had reaped, to whom he said as before, "Good people, if you do not tell the king, who will presently pass this way, that the corn you have reaped in this field belongs to my lord Marquis of Carabas, you shall be chopped as small as minced meat."

The king accordingly passed a moment after, and inquired to whom the corn he saw belonged, "To my lord Marquis of Carabas," answered they very glibly; upon which the king again complimented the Marquis on his noble possessions.

The cat still continued to go before, and gave the same charge to all the people he met with; so that the king was greatly astonished at the splendid fortune of my lord Marquis of Carabas.

Puss at length arrived at a stately castle, which belonged to an Ogre, the richest ever known; for all the lands the king had passed through and admired were his. The cat took care to learn every particular about the Ogre, and what he could do, and then asked to speak with him, saying, as he entered the room in which he was, that he could not pass so near his castle without doing himself the honour to enquire for his health.

The Ogre received him as civilly as an Ogre could do, and desired him to be seated.

"I have been informed," said the cat, "that you have the gift of changing yourself into all sorts of animals, into a lion, or an elephant, for example."

"It is very true," replied the Ogre somewhat sternly; "and to convince you, I will directly take the form of a lion."

The cat was so much terrified at finding himself so near a lion, that he sprang from him, and climbed to the roof of the house; but not without much difficulty, as his boots were not very fit to walk upon the tiles.

Some minutes after, the cat perceiving that the Ogre had quitted the form of a lion, ventured to come down from the tiles, and owned that he had been a good deal frightened.

"I have been further informed," continued the cat, "but I know not how to believe it, that you have the power of taking the form of the smallest animals also; for example, of changing yourself to a rat or a mouse; I confess I should think this must be impossible."

"Impossible! you shall see;" and at the same instant he changed himself into a mouse, and began to frisk about the room.

The cat no sooner set his eyes upon the Ogre in this form, than he sprang upon him, and devoured him in an instant.

In the meantime the king, admiring, as he came near it, the magnificent castle of the Ogre, ordered his attendant to drive up to the gates, as he wished to take a nearer view of it. The cat, hearing the noise of the carriage on the drawbridge, immediately came out, saying, "Your majesty is welcome to the castle of my lord Marquis of Carabas."

"And is this splendid castle your's also, my lord Marquis of Carabas? I never saw anything more stately than the building, or more beautiful than the park and pleasure-grounds around it; no doubt, the castle is no less magnificent within than without; pray, my lord Marquis, indulge me with a sight of it."

The Marquis gave his hand to the young princess as she alighted, and followed the king, who went before; they entered a spacious hall, where they found a splendid collation which the Ogre had prepared for some friends he had expected that day to visit him; but who, hearing that the king with the princess and a great gentleman of the court were within had not dared to enter.

The king was so much charmed with the amiable qualities and noble fortune of the Marquis of Carabas, and the young princess too had fallen so violently in love with him, that when the king had partaken of the collation, and drank a few glasses of wine, he said to the Marquis, "It will be your own fault, my lord Marquis of Carabas, if you do not soon become my son-in-law."

The Marquis received the intelligence with a thousand respectful acknowledgments, accepted the honour conferred upon him, and married the princess that very day.

The cat became a great lord, and never again ran after rats and mice but for his amusement.

---

WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT.

In the reign of the famous King Edward the Third, there was a little boy called Dick Whittington, whose father and mother died when he was very young, so that he remembered nothing at all about them, and was left a dirty little fellow running about a country village. As poor Dick was not old enough to work, he was in a sorry plight; he got but little for his dinner, and sometimes nothing at all for his breakfast; for the people who lived in the village were very poor themselves, and could spare him little more than the parings of potatoes, and now and then a hard crust.

For all this, Dick Whittington was a very sharp boy, and was always listening to what every one talked about.

On Sundays he never failed to get near the farmers, as they sat talking on the tombstones in the church-yard, before the parson was come: and once a week you might be sure to see little Dick leaning against the sign-post of the village ale-house, where people stopped to drink as they came from the next market-town; and whenever the barber's shop-door was open, Dick listened to all the news he told his customers.

In this manner, Dick heard of the great city called London; how the people who lived there were all fine gentlemen and ladies; that there were singing and music in it all day long; and that the streets were paved all over with gold.

One day a waggoner, with a large waggon and eight horses, all with bells at their heads, drove through the village while Dick was lounging near his favourite sign-post. The thought immediately struck him that it must be going to the fine town of London; and taking courage, he asked the waggoner to let him walk by the side of the waggon. The man, hearing from poor Dick that he had no parents, and seeing by his ragged condition that he could not be worse off, told him he might go if he would; so they set off together.

Dick got safe to London; and so eager was he to see the fine streets paved all over with gold, that he ran as fast as his legs would carry him through several streets, expecting every moment to come to those that were all paved with gold; for Dick had three times seen a guinea in his own village, and observed what a great deal of money it brought in change; so he imagined he had only to take up some little bits of the pavement to have as much money as he desired.

Poor Dick ran till he was tired, and at last, finding it grow dark, and that whichever way he turned he saw nothing but dirt instead of gold, he sat down in a dark corner, and cried himself asleep.

Little Dick remained all night in the streets; and next morning, finding himself very hungry, he got up and walked about, asking those he met to give him a halfpenny to keep him from starving; but nobody stayed to answer him, and only two or three gave him anything; so that the poor boy was soon in the most miserable condition. Being almost starved to death, he laid himself down at the door of one Mr. Fitzwarren, a great rich merchant. Here he was soon perceived by the cook-maid, who was an ill-tempered creature, and happened just then to be very busy dressing dinner for her master and mistress: so, seeing poor Dick, she called out, "What business have you here, you lazy rogue? There is nothing else but beggars; if you do not take yourself away, we will see how you will like a sousing of some dish-water, I have here that is hot enough to make you caper!"

Just at this time Mr. Fitzwarren himself came home from the city to dinner, and seeing a dirty ragged boy lying at the door, said to him, "Why do you lie there, my lad? You seem old enough to work. I fear you must be somewhat idle."

"No, indeed, sir," says Whittington, "that is not true, for I would work with all my heart, but I know nobody, and I believe I am very sick for want of food."

"Poor fellow!" answered Mr. Fitzwarren.

Dick now tried to rise, but was obliged to lie down again, being too weak to stand; for he had not eaten anything for three days, and was no longer able to run about and beg a halfpenny of people in the streets: so the kind merchant ordered that he should be taken into his house, and have a good dinner immediately, and that he should be kept to do what dirty work he was able for the cook.

Little Dick would have lived very happily in this worthy family, had it not been for the crabbed cook, who was finding fault and scolding at him from morning till night; and was withal so fond of roasting and basting, that, when the spit was out of her hands, she would be at basting poor Dick's head and shoulders with a broom, or anything else that happened to fall in her way; till at last her ill usage of him was told to Miss Alice, Mr. Fitzwarren's daughter, who asked the ill-tempered creature if she was not ashamed to use a little friendless boy so cruelly; and added, she would certainly be turned away if she did not treat him with more kindness.

But though the cook was so ill-tempered, Mr. Fitzwarren's footman was quite the contrary; he had lived in the family many years, was rather elderly, and had once a little boy of his own, who died when about the age of Whittington; so he could not but feel compassion for the poor boy.

As the footman was very fond of reading, he used generally in the evening to entertain his fellow-servants, when they had done their work, with some amusing book. The pleasure our little hero took in hearing him made him very much desire to learn to read too; so the next time the good-natured footman gave him a halfpenny, he bought a horn-book with it; and, with a little of his help, Dick soon learned his letters, and afterwards to read.

About this time Miss Alice was going out one morning for a walk; and the footman happening to be out of the way, little Dick, who had received from Mr. Fitzwarren a neat suit of clothes, to go to church on Sundays, was ordered to put them on, and walk behind her. As they walked along, Miss Alice, seeing a poor woman with a child in her arms, and another at her back, pulled out her purse, and gave her some money; and as she was putting it again into her pocket, she dropped it on the ground, and walked on. Luckily Dick, who was behind, saw what she had done, picked it up, and immediately presented it to her.

Besides the ill-humour of the cook, which now, however, was somewhat mended, Whittington had another hardship to get over. This was, that his bed, which was of flock, was placed in a garret, where there were so many holes in the floor and walls, that he never went to bed without being awakened in his sleep by great numbers of rats and mice, which generally ran over his face, and made such a noise, that he sometimes thought the walls were tumbling down about him.

One day a gentleman who paid a visit to Mr. Fitzwarren, happened to have dirtied his shoes, and begged they might be cleaned. Dick took great pains to make them shine, and the gentleman gave him a penny. This he resolved to lay out in buying a cat, if possible; and the next day, seeing a little girl with a cat under her arm, he went up to her, and asked if she would let him have it for a penny; to which the girl replied, she would with all her heart, for her mother had more cats than she could maintain; adding, that the one she had was an excellent mouser.

This cat Whittington hid in the garret, always taking care to carry her a part of his dinner: and in a short time he had no further disturbance from the rats and mice, but slept as sound as a top.

Soon after this, the merchant, who had a ship ready to sail, richly laden, and thinking it but just that all his servants should have some chance for good luck as well as himself, called them into the parlour, and asked them what commodity they chose to send.

All mentioned something they were willing to venture but poor Whittington, who, having no money nor goods, could send nothing at all, for which reason he did not come in with the rest; but Miss Alice, guessing what was the matter, ordered him to be called, and offered to lay down some money for him from her own purse; but this, the merchant observed, would not do, for it must be something of his own.

Upon this, poor Dick said he had nothing but a cat, which he bought for a penny that was given him.

"Fetch thy cat, boy," says Mr. Fitzwarren, "and let her go."

Whittington brought poor puss, and delivered her to the captain with tears in his eyes, for he said "He should now again be kept awake all night by the rats and mice."

All the company laughed at the oddity of Whittington's adventure, and Miss Alice, who felt the greatest pity for the poor boy, gave him some halfpence to buy another cat.

This, and several other marks of kindness shown him by Miss Alice, made the ill-tempered cook so jealous of the favours the poor boy received, that she began to use him more cruelly than ever, and constantly made game of him for sending his cat to sea, asking him if he thought it would sell for as much money as would buy a halter.

At last, the unhappy little fellow, being unable to bear this treatment any longer, determined to run away from his place. He accordingly packed up the few things that belonged to him, and set out very early in the morning on Allhallow Day, which is the first of November. He travelled as far as Holloway, and there sat down on a stone, which to this day is called Whittington's Stone, and began to consider what course he should take.

While he was thus thinking what he could do, Bow-Bells, of which there were then only six, began to ring: and it seemed to him that their sounds addressed him in this manner:

"Turn again Whittington, Lord Mayor of London."

"Lord Mayor of London!" says he to himself. "Why, to be sure, I would bear anything to be Lord Mayor of London, and ride in a fine coach! Well, I will go back, and think nothing of all the cuffing and scolding of old Cicely, if I am at last to be Lord Mayor of London."

So back went Dick, and got into the house, and set about his business before Cicely came down stairs.

The ship, with the cat on board, was long beaten about at sea, and was at last driven by contrary winds on a part of the coast of Barbary, inhabited by Moors that were unknown to the English.

The natives in this country came in great numbers, out of curiosity, to see the people on board, who were all of so different a colour from themselves, and treated them with great civility; and, as they became better acquainted, showed marks of eagerness to purchase the fine things with which the ship was laden.

The captain, seeing this, sent patterns of the choicest articles he had to the king of the country, who was so much pleased with them, that he sent for the captain and his chief mate to the palace. Here they were placed, as is the custom of the country, on rich carpets flowered with gold and silver: and the king and queen being seated at the upper end of the room, dinner was brought in, which consisted of the greatest rarities. No sooner, however, were the dishes set before the company, than an amazing number of rats and mice rushed in, and helped themselves plentifully from every dish, scattering pieces of flesh and gravy all about the room.

The captain, extremely astonished, asked if these vermin were not very offensive.

"Oh, yes," said they, "very offensive; and the king would give half his treasure to be free of them: for they not only destroy his dinner, but they disturb him even in his chamber, so that he is obliged to be watched while he sleeps."

The captain, who was ready to jump for joy, remembering poor Whittington's hard case, and the cat he had intrusted to his care, told him he had a creature on board his ship that would kill them all.

The king was still more overjoyed than the captain. "Bring this creature to me," says he, "and if she can really perform what you say, I will load your ship with wedges of gold in exchange for her."

Away flew the captain, while another dinner was providing, to the ship, and taking puss under his arm, returned to the palace in time to see the table covered with rats and mice, and the second dinner in a fair way to meet with the same fate as the first.

The cat, at sight of them, did not wait for bidding, but sprang from the captain's arms, and in a few moments laid the greater part of the rats and mice dead at her feet, while the rest, in the greatest fright imaginable, scampered away to their holes.

The king having seen and considered of the wonderful exploits of Mrs. Puss, and being informed she would soon have young ones, which might in time destroy all the rats and mice in the country, bargained with the captain for his whole ship's cargo, and afterwards agreed to give a prodigious quantity of wedges of gold, of still greater value, for the cat; with which, after taking leave of their majesties, and other great personages belonging to the court, he, with all his ship's company, set sail, with a fair wind for England, and, after a happy voyage, arrived safely in the port of London.

One morning, Mr. Fitzwarren had just entered his counting-house, and was going to seat himself at the desk, when who should arrive but the captain and the mate of the merchant-ship, the Unicorn, just arrived from the coast of Barbary, and followed by several men, bringing with them a prodigious quantity of wedges of gold that had been paid by the King of Barbary in exchange for the merchandise, and also in exchange for Mrs. Puss. Mr. Fitzwarren, the instant he heard the news, ordered Whittington to be called, and having desired him to be seated, said, "Mr. Whittington, most heartily do I rejoice in the news these gentlemen have brought you; for the captain has sold your cat to the King of Barbary, and brought you in return more riches than I possess in the whole world; and may you long enjoy them."

Mr. Fitzwarren then desired the men to open the immense treasures they had brought, and added that Mr. Whittington had now nothing to do but to put it in some place of safety.

Poor Dick could scarce contain himself for joy. He begged his master to take what part of it he pleased, since to his kindness he was indebted for the whole.

"No, no; this wealth is all your own, and justly so," answered Mr. Fitzwarren; "and I have no doubt you will use it generously."

Whittington, however, was too kind-hearted to keep all for himself; and, accordingly, made a handsome present to the captain, the mate, and every one of the ship's company, and afterwards to his excellent friend the footman, and the rest of Mr. Fitzwarren's servants, not even excepting crabbed old Cicely.

After this, Mr. Fitzwarren advised him to send for tradespeople, and get himself dressed as became a gentleman; and made him the offer of his house to live in, till he could provide himself with a better.

When Mr. Whittington's face was washed, his hair curled, his hat cocked, and he was dressed in a fashionable suit of clothes, he appeared as handsome and genteel as any young man who visited at Mr. Fitzwarren's; so that Miss Alice, who had formerly thought of him with compassion, now considered him as fit to be her lover; and the more so, no doubt, because Mr. Whittington was constantly thinking what he could do to oblige her, and making her the prettiest presents imaginable.

Mr. Fitzwarren, perceiving their affection for each other, proposed to unite them in marriage, to which, without difficulty, they each consented; and accordingly a day for the wedding was soon fixed, and they were attended to church by the lord mayor, the court of aldermen, the sheriffs, and a great number of the wealthiest merchants in London; and the ceremony was succeeded by a most elegant entertainment and splendid ball.

History tells us that the said Mr. Whittington and his lady lived in great splendour, and were very happy; that they had several children; that he was sheriff of London in the year 1340, and several times afterwards Lord Mayor; that in the last year of his mayoralty he entertained King Henry the Fifth, on his return from the battle of Agincourt. And some time afterwards, going with an address from the city on one of His Majesty's victories, he received the honour of knighthood.

Sir Richard Whittington constantly fed great numbers of the poor; he built a church and college to it, with a yearly allowance to poor scholars, and near it erected an hospital.

The effigy of Sir Richard Whittington was to be seen, with his cat in his arms, carved in stone, over the archway of the late prison of Newgate, that went across Newgate Street.

---

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.

A few centuries ago lived a very wealthy merchant, who had three sons and three daughters. The education he gave them was of the most superior kind. The girls were all handsome; but the youngest was styled the Little Beauty, and hence she was, when grown up, called by the name of Beauty, which made her sisters jealous,—who were proud of their riches, kept only the grandest company, and laughed at their youngest sister, whose study was to improve her mind. They would only marry to a duke or an earl, while Beauty declined every offer, thinking herself too young to be removed from her father's house.

All at once the merchant lost his whole fortune, excepting a small country house at a great distance from town, and told his children, with tears in his eyes, they must go there and work for their living. The two eldest answered that they had lovers, who, they were sure, would be glad to have them, though they had no fortune; but in this they were mistaken, for their lovers slighted and forsook them in their poverty. As they were not beloved, on account of their pride, everybody said, "They do not deserve to be pitied; we are glad to see their pride humbled; let them go and give themselves quality airs in milking the cows and minding the dairy. But," added they, "we are extremely concerned for Beauty; she was such a charming, sweet-tempered creature, spoke so kindly to poor people, and was of such an affable, obliging disposition." Nay, several gentlemen would have married her, though they knew she had not a penny, but she told them she could not think of leaving her poor father in his misfortunes, but was determined to go along with him into the country to comfort and attend him. Poor Beauty at first was sadly grieved at the loss of her fortune; "But," said she to herself, "were I to cry ever so much, as that would not make things better, I must try to make myself happy without a fortune." When they came to their country house, the merchant and his three sons applied themselves to husbandry and tillage, and Beauty rose at four in the morning, and made haste to have the house clean, and breakfast ready for the family. In the beginning she found it very difficult, for she had not been used to work as a servant, but in less than two months she grew stronger and healthier than ever. After she had done her work, she read, played on the harpsichord, or else sang whilst she spun. On the contrary, her two sisters did not know how to spend their time; they got up at ten, and did nothing but saunter about the whole time, lamenting the loss of their fine clothes and acquaintance.

"Do but see our younger sister," said one to the other, "what a poor, stupid, mean-spirited creature she is, to be contented with such an unhappy situation."

The good merchant was of quite a different opinion; he knew very well that Beauty outshone her sisters in her person as well as her mind, and admired her humility, industry, and patience, for her sisters not only left her all the work of the house to do, but insulted her every moment.

The family had lived about a year in this retirement, when the merchant received a letter with an account that a vessel, on board of which he had effects, had safely arrived. This news had liked to have turned the heads of the two eldest daughters, who immediately flattered themselves with the hope of returning to town, for they were quite weary of a country life, and when they saw their father ready to set out, they begged of him to buy them new gowns, caps, rings, and all manner of trifles; but Beauty asked for nothing, for she thought to herself that all the money her father was going to receive would scarce be sufficient to purchase everything her sisters wanted.

"What will you have, Beauty?" said her father.

"Since you are so good as to think of me," answered Beauty, "be so kind as to bring me a rose; for as none grow hereabouts, they are a kind of rarity."

Not that Beauty cared for a rose, but she asked for something lest she should seem by her example to condemn her sisters' conduct, who would have said she did it only to look particular. The good man went on his journey; but when he arrived there they went to law with him about the merchandise, and after a great deal of trouble and pains to no purpose, he came back as poor as before.

He was within thirty miles of his own house, thinking of the pleasure he should have in seeing his children again, when, going through a large forest, he lost himself. It rained and snowed terribly; besides, the wind was so high that it threw him twice off his horse; and night coming on, he began to apprehend being either starved to death with cold and hunger, or else devoured by the wolves, whom he heard howling all around him, when, on a sudden, looking through a long walk of trees, he saw a light at some distance, and going on a little farther, perceived it came from a palace illuminated from top to bottom. The merchant returned God thanks for this happy discovery, and hastened to the palace, but was greatly surprised at not meeting with any one in the out-courts. His horse followed him, and seeing a large stable open went in, and finding both hay and oats, the poor beast, who was almost famished, fell to eating very heartily. The merchant tied him up to the manger and walked towards the house, where he saw no one; but entering into a large hall he found a good fire, and a table plentifully set out, but with one cover laid. As he was quite wet through with the rain and the snow, he drew near the fire to dry himself. "I hope," said he, "the master of the house, or his servants, will excuse the liberty I take. I suppose it will not be long before some of them appear."

He waited a considerable time, till it struck eleven o'clock, and still nobody came; at last he was so hungry that he could stay no longer, but took a chicken and ate it in two mouthfuls, trembling all the while. After this he drank a few glasses of wine, and growing more courageous, he went out of the hall, and crossed through several grand apartments, with magnificent furniture, till he came into a chamber, which had an exceeding good bed in it, and, as he was very much fatigued, and it was past midnight, he concluded it was best to shut the door and go to bed. It was ten the next morning before the merchant waked, and as he was going to rise, he was astonished to see a good suit of clothes in the room of his own, which were quite spoiled. "Certainly," said he, "this palace belongs to some kind fairy, who has seen and pitied my distresses." He looked through a window, but instead of snow, saw the most delightful arbours, interwoven with the most beautiful flowers that ever were beheld. He then returned to the great hall, where he had supped the night before, and found some chocolate ready made on a little table. "Thank you, good Madam Fairy," said he aloud, "for being so careful as to provide me a breakfast. I am extremely obliged to you for all your favours."

The good man drank his chocolate, and then went to look for his horse; but passing through an arbour of roses, he remembered Beauty's request to him, and gathered a branch on which were several; immediately he heard a great noise, and saw such a frightful beast coming towards him that he was ready to faint away.

"You are very ungrateful," said the Beast to him in a terrible voice. "I have saved your life by receiving you into my castle, and in return you steal my roses, which I value beyond anything in the universe; but you shall die for it. I give you but a quarter of an hour to prepare yourself, and to say your prayers."

The merchant fell on his knees, and lifted up both his hands. "My Lord," said he, "I beseech you to forgive me; indeed, I had no intention to offend in gathering a rose for one of my daughters, who desired me to bring her one."

"My name is not My Lord," replied the monster, "but Beast. I don't like compliments, not I; I like people to speak as they think; and so do not imagine I am to be moved by any of your flattering speeches. But you say you have got daughters. I will forgive you, on condition that one of them come willingly and suffer for you. Let me have no words, but go about your business, and swear that, if your daughters refuse to die in your stead, you will return within three months."

The merchant had no mind to sacrifice his daughters to the ugly monster, but he thought, in obtaining this respite, he should have the satisfaction of seeing them once more; so he promised upon oath he would return, and the Beast told him he might set out when he pleased. "But," added he, "you shall not depart empty handed. Go back to the room where you lay, and you will see a great empty chest; fill it with whatever you like best, and I will send it to your home," and at the same time the Beast withdrew.

"Well," said the good man to himself, "if I must die, I shall have the comfort, at least, of leaving something to my poor children."

He returned to the bed-chamber, and finding a quantity of broad pieces of gold, he filled the great chest the Beast had mentioned, locked it, and afterwards took his horse out of the stable, leaving the palace with as much grief as he had entered it with joy. The horse, of his own accord, took one of the roads of the forest, and in a few hours the good man was at home. His children came around him, but instead of receiving their embraces with pleasure, he looked on them, and holding up the branch he had in his hands, he burst into tears.

"Here, Beauty," said he, "take those roses; but little do you think how dear they are likely to cost your unhappy father."

He then related his fatal adventure. Immediately the two eldest set up lamentable outcries, and in a reproachful and malignant tone said all manner of ill-natured things to Beauty, who did not cry at all.

"Do but see the pride of the little wretch," said they. "She would not ask for fine clothes, as we did; but no, truly, Miss wanted to distinguish herself; so now she will be the death of our poor father, and yet she does not so much as shed a tear."

"Why should I?" answered Beauty; "it would be very needless, for my father shall not suffer upon my account. Since the monster will accept of one of his daughters, I will deliver myself up to all his fury, and I am very happy in thinking that my death will save my father's life, and be a proof of my tender love for him."

"No, sister," said her three brothers, "that shall not be; we will go and find the monster, and either kill him or perish in the attempt."

"Do not imagine any such thing, my sons," said the merchant; "Beast's power is so great that I have no hopes of your overcoming him. I am charmed with Beauty's kind and generous offer, but I cannot yield to it. I am old, and have not long to live, so can only lose a few years, which I regret for your sakes, my poor children.

"Indeed, father," said Beauty, "you shall not go to the palace without me; you cannot hinder me from following you."

It was to no purpose all they could say, Beauty still insisted on setting out for the fine palace; and her sisters were delighted at it, for her virtue and amiable qualities made them envious and jealous.

The merchant was so afflicted at the thought of losing his daughter, that he had quite forgot the chest full of gold; but at night, when he retired to rest, no sooner had he shut his chamber door, than to his great astonishment, he found it by his bedside. He was determined, however, not to tell his children that he was grown rich, because they would have wanted to return to town, and he was resolved not to leave the country; but he trusted Beauty with the secret, who informed him that two gentleman came in his absence and courted her sisters. She begged her father to consent to their marriage, and give them fortunes: for she was so good that she loved them, and forgave them heartily for all their ill-usage. These wicked creatures rubbed their eyes with an onion to force some tears when they parted with their sister, but her brothers were really concerned. Beauty was the only one who did not shed tears at parting, because she would not increase their uneasiness.

The horse took the direct road to the palace, and towards evening they perceived it, illuminated as at first. The horse went of himself into the stable, and the good man and his daughter came into the great hall, where they found a table splendidly served up, and two covers. The merchant had no heart to eat, but Beauty endeavoured to appear cheerful, sat down to table, and helped him. Afterwards, thought she to herself, "Beast surely has a mind to fatten me before he eats me, since he provides such a plentiful entertainment." When they had supped, they heard a great noise, and the merchant, in tears, bid his poor child farewell, for he thought Beast was coming. Beauty was sadly terrified at his horrid form, but she took courage as well as she could, and the monster having asked her if she came willingly, "Y-e-s," said she, tremblingly.

"You are very good, and I am greatly obliged to you. Honest man, go your ways to-morrow morning, but never think of returning here again. Farewell, Beauty."

"Farewell, Beast," answered she sighing, and immediately the monster withdrew.

"O, daughter," said the merchant, embracing Beauty, "I am almost frightened to death; believe me, you had better go back, and let me stay here."

"No, father," said Beauty, in a resolute tone; "you shall set out to-morrow morning, and leave me to the care and protection of Providence."

They went to bed, and thought they should not close their eyes all night; but scarce had they laid down than they fell fast asleep; and Beauty dreamed a fine lady came and said to her, "I am content, Beauty, with your good will; this good action of yours in giving up your own life to save your father's shall not go unrewarded." Beauty waked and told her father her dream, and though it helped to comfort him a little, yet he could not help crying bitterly when he took leave of his dear child from the uncertainty of again beholding her.

As soon as he was gone, Beauty sat down in the great hall, and fell a-crying likewise; but as she was mistress of a great deal of resolution, she recommended herself to God, and resolved not to be uneasy the little time she had to live, for she firmly believed Beast would eat her up that night.

However, she thought she might as well walk about till then, and view this fine castle, which she could not help admiring. It was a delightful, pleasant place, and she was extremely surprised at seeing a door, over which was written "Beauty's Apartment." She opened it hastily, and was quite dazzled with the magnificence that reigned throughout; but what chiefly took up her attention was a large library, a harpsichord, and several music books. "Well," said she to herself, "I see they will not let my time hang heavily on my hands for want of amusement." Then she reflected, "Were I but to stay here a day, there would not have been all these preparations." This consideration inspired her with fresh courage, and opening the library, she took a book and read these words in letters of gold:—

"Welcome, Beauty; banish fear, You are queen and mistress here; Speak your wishes, speak your will, Swift obedience meets them still."

"Alas," said she, with a sigh, "there is nothing I desire so much as to see my poor father, and to know what he is doing." She had no sooner said this than, to her great amazement, she saw her own home, where her father had arrived with a very dejected countenance; her sisters went to meet him, and, notwithstanding their endeavours to appear sorrowful, their joy, felt for having got rid of their sister, was visible in every feature. A moment after, everything disappeared, with Beauty's apprehensions at this proof of Beast's complaisance.

At noon she found dinner ready, and while at table was entertained with an excellent concert of music, though without seeing anybody; but at night, as she was going to sit down to supper, she heard the noise Beast made, and could not help being sadly terrified.

"Beauty," said the monster, "will you give me leave to see you sup?"

"That is as you please," answered Beauty, trembling.

"No," replied the Beast; "you alone are mistress here; you need only bid me begone, if my presence is troublesome, and I will immediately withdraw. Everything here is yours, and I should be very uneasy if you were not happy. My heart is good, though I am a monster."

"Among mankind," said Beauty, "there are many that deserve that name more than you, and I prefer you, just as you are, to those who, under a human form, hide a treacherous, corrupt, and ungrateful heart."

Beauty ate a hearty supper, and had almost conquered her dread of the monster; but she had like to have fainted away when he said to her, "Beauty, will you be my wife?"

It was some time before she durst answer, for she was afraid of making him angry if she refused. At last, however, she said, trembling, "No, Beast."

Immediately the poor monster began to sigh, and howl so frightfully, that the whole palace echoed. But Beauty soon recovered her fright, for Beast, having said in a mournful voice, "Then farewell, Beauty," left the room, and only turned back now and then to look at her as he went out.

When Beauty was alone, she felt a great deal of compassion for poor Beast. "Alas!" said she, "'tis a thousand pities anything so good-natured should be so ugly!"

Beauty spent three months very contentedly in the place. Every evening Beast paid her a visit, and talked to her during supper very rationally, with plain, good common-sense, but never with what the world calls wit; and Beauty daily discovered some valuable qualifications in the monster, till seeing him often had so accustomed her to his deformity, that, far from dreading the time of his visit, she would often look on her watch to see when it would be nine, for the Beast never missed coming at that hour. There was but one thing that gave Beauty any concern, which was that every night, before she went to bed, the monster always asked her if she would be his wife. One day, she said to him, "Beast, you make me very unhappy. I wish I could consent to marry you; but I am too sincere to make you believe that will ever happen. I shall always esteem you as a friend; endeavour to be satisfied with this."

"I must," said the Beast, "for alas! I know too well my own misfortune; but then I love you with the tenderest affection. However, I ought to think myself happy that you will stay here. Promise me never to leave me?"

Beauty blushed at these words. She had seen in her glass that her father had pined himself sick for the loss of her, and she longed to see him again.

"I could," answered she, "indeed promise never to leave you entirely, but I have so great a desire to see my father, that I shall fret to death if you refuse me that satisfaction."

"I had rather die myself," said the monster, "than give you the least uneasiness. I will send you to your father; you will remain with him, and poor Beast shall die of grief."

"No," said Beauty, weeping, "I love you too well to be the cause of your death. I give you my promise to return in a week, for I indeed feel a kind of liking for you. You have shown me that my sisters are married, and my brothers gone to the army; only let me stay a week with my father, as he is alone."

"You shall be there to-morrow morning," said the Beast; "but remember your promise. You need only lay your ring on the table before you go to bed, when you have a mind to come back. Farewell, Beauty."

Beast sighed as usual, bidding her good-night; and Beauty went to bed very sad at seeing him so afflicted. When she waked the next morning, she found herself at her father's, and having rung a little bell that was by her bed-side, she saw the maid come, who, the moment she saw her, gave a loud shriek, at which the good man ran upstairs, and thought he should have died with joy to see his dear daughter again. He held her fast locked in his arms above a quarter of an hour. As soon as the first transports were over, Beauty began to think of rising, and was afraid she had no clothes to put on; but the maid told her that she had just found, in the next room, a large trunk full of gowns, covered with gold and diamonds. Beauty thanked good Beast for his kind care, and taking one of the plainest of them, she intended to make a present of the others to her sisters. She scarcely had said so, when the trunk disappeared. Her father told her that Beast insisted on her keeping them herself, and immediately both gowns and trunk came back again.

Beauty dressed herself; and in the meantime they sent to her sisters, who hastened thither with their husbands. They were both of them very unhappy. The eldest had married a gentleman, extremely handsome, indeed, but so fond of his own person that he neglected his wife. The second had married a man of wit, but he only made use of it to plague and torment every one. Beauty's sisters sickened with envy when they saw her dressed like a Princess, and look more beautiful than ever. They went down into the garden to vent their spleen, and agreed to persuade her to stay a week longer with them, which probably might so enrage the Beast as to make him devour her. After they had taken this resolution, they went up and behaved so affectionately to their sister that poor Beauty wept for joy, and, at their request, promised to stay seven nights longer.

In the meantime, Beauty was unhappy. The tenth night she dreamed she was in the palace garden, and that she saw Beast extended on the grass plot, who seemed just expiring, and, in a dying voice, reproached her with her ingratitude. Beauty started out of her sleep, and bursting into tears, reproached herself for her ingratitude, and her insensibility of his many kind and agreeable qualifications. Having said much on this, she rose, put her ring on the table, and lay down again. Scarcely was she in bed before she fell asleep; and when she wakened next morning, she was overjoyed to find herself in the Beast's palace. She put on one of her richest suits to please him, and waited for evening with the utmost impatience; at last the wished for hour came, the clock struck nine, yet no Beast appeared. After having sought for him everywhere, she recollected her dream, and flew to the canal in the garden. There she found poor Beast stretched out quite senseless, and, as she imagined, dead. She threw herself upon him without any dread, and finding his heart beat still, she fetched some water from the canal, and poured it on his head.

Beast opened his eyes, and said to Beauty, "You forgot your promise, and I was so afflicted at having lost you that I resolved to starve myself. But since I have the happiness of seeing you once more, I die satisfied."

"No, dear Beast," said Beauty, "you must not die; live to be my husband. From this moment I give you my hand, and swear to be none but yours."

Beauty scarcely had pronounced these words, when the palace sparkled with lights and fireworks, instruments of music—everything seemed to portend some great event; but nothing could fix her attention. She turned to her dear Beast, for whom she trembled with fear; but how great was her surprise! Beast had disappeared, and she saw at her feet one of the loveliest Princes that ever eye beheld, who returned her thanks for having put an end to the charm under which he had so long resembled a beast. Though this Prince was worthy of all her attention, she could not forbear asking where Beast was.

"You see him at your feet," said the Prince; "a wicked fairy had condemned me to remain under that shape till a beautiful virgin should consent to marry me. In offering you my crown, I can't discharge the obligations I have to you."

Beauty, agreeably surprised, gave the charming Prince her hand to rise; they went together into the castle, and Beauty was overjoyed to find, in the great hall, her father and his whole family, whom the beautiful lady, that appeared to her in her dream, had conveyed thither.

"Beauty," said this lady, "come and receive the reward of your judicious choice; you are going to be a great Queen. I hope the throne will not lessen your virtue, nor make you forget yourself. As for you, ladies," said the fairy to Beauty's two sisters, "I know your hearts and all the malice they contain. Become two statues: but under this transformation, still retain your reason. You shall stand before your sister's palace gate, and be it your punishment to behold her happiness."

Immediately the fairy gave a stroke with her wand, and, in a moment, all that were in the hall were transported into the Prince's palace. His subjects received him with joy. He married Beauty, and lived with her many years; and their happiness, as it was founded on virtue, was complete.

---

THE SLEEPING BEAUTY.

There was formerly, in a distant country, a king and queen, the most beautiful and happy in the world: having nothing but the want of children to participate in the pleasures they enjoyed. This was their whole concern; physicians, waters, vows, and offerings were tried, but all to no purpose. At last, however, the queen proved with child, and in due time she was brought to bed of a daughter. At the christening, the princess had seven fairies for her god-mothers, who were all they could find in the whole kingdom, that every one might give her a gift.

The christening being over, a grand feast was prepared to entertain and thank the fairies. Before each of them was placed a magnificent cover, with a spoon, a knife, and a fork, of pure gold and excellent workmanship, set with divers precious stones; but, as they were all sitting down at the table, they saw come into the hall a very old fairy, whom they had not invited, because it was near fifty years since she had been out of a certain tower, and was thought to have been either dead or enchanted.

The king ordered her a cover, but could not furnish her with a case of gold as the others had, because he had only seven made for the seven fairies. The old fairy, thinking she was slighted by not being treated in the same manner as the rest, murmured out some threats between her teeth.

One of the young fairies who sat by her, overheard how she grumbled, and judging that she might give the little princess some unlucky gift, she went, as soon as she rose from the table, and hid herself behind the hangings, that she might speak last, and repair, as much as possibly she could, the evil which the old fairy might intend.

In the meantime, all the fairies began to give their gifts to the princess in the following manner:—

The youngest gave her a gift that she should be the most beautiful person in the world.

The third, that she would have a wonderful grace in everything that she did.

The fourth, that she would sing perfectly well.

And the sixth, that she would play on all kinds of musical instruments to the utmost degree of perfection.

The old fairy's turn coming next, she advanced forward, and, with a shaking head which seemed to show more spite than age, she said, "That the princess would have her hands pierced with a spindle, and die of the wound."

This terrible gift made the whole company tremble, and every one of them fell a-crying.

At this very instant, the young fairy came out from behind the curtains, and spoke these words aloud:— "Assure yourselves, O king and queen, that your daughter shall not die of this disaster. It is true I have not power to undo what my elder has done. The princess shall indeed pierce her hand with a spindle; but instead of dying, she shall only fall into a profound sleep, which shall last a hundred years, at the expiration of which a king's son shall come, and awake her from it."

The king, to avoid this misfortune told by the old splenetic and malicious fairy, caused immediately his royal proclamation to be issued forth, whereby every person was forbidden, upon pain of death, to spin with a distaff or spindle; nay, even so much as to have a spindle in any of their houses.

About fifteen or sixteen years after, the king and queen being gone to one of their houses of pleasure, the young princess happened to divert herself by going up and down the palace, when, going up from one apartment to another, she at length came into a little room at the top of the tower, where an old woman was sitting all alone, and spinning with her spindle.

This good woman had not heard of the king's proclamation against spindles.

"What are you doing there, Goody?" said the princess.

"I am spinning, my pretty child," said the old woman, who did not know who she was.

"Ha!" said the princess, "that is very pretty; how do you do it? Give it to me, that I may see if I can do so."

The old woman, to satisfy the child's curiosity, granted her request. She had no sooner taken it into her hand, than, whether being very hasty at it and somewhat unhandy, or that the decree of the spiteful fairy had ordained it, is not to be certainly ascertained, but, however, it immediately ran into her hand, and she directly fell down upon the ground in a swoon.

The good old woman, not knowing what to do in this affair, cried out for help. People came in from every quarter in great numbers. Some threw water upon the princess's face, unlaced her, struck her on the palms of her hands, and rubbed her temples with Hungary water; but all they could do did not bring her to herself.

The good fairy who had saved her life, by condemning her to sleep one hundred years, was in the kingdom of Matakin, twelve thousand leagues off, when this accident befell the princess; but she was instantly informed of it by a little dwarf, who had boots of seven leagues: that is, boots with which he could tread over seven leagues of ground at one stride. The fairy left the kingdom immediately, and arrived at the palace in about an hour after, in a fiery chariot drawn by dragons.

The king handed her out of the chariot, and she approved of everything he had done: but, as she had a very great foresight, she thought that when the princess should awake, she might not know what to do with herself, being all alone in this old palace; therefore, she touched with her wand everything in the palace, except the king and queen, governesses, maids of honour, ladies of the bed-chamber, gentlemen, officers, stewards, cooks, under-cooks, scullions, guards, with their beef-eaters, pages, and footmen. She likewise touched all the horses that were in the stables, as well pads as others, the great dog in the outer court, and the little spaniel bitch which lay by her on the bed.

Immediately on her touching them they all fell asleep, that they might not wake before their mistress, and that they might be ready to wait upon her when she wanted them. The very spits at the fire, as full as they could be of partridges and pheasants, and everything in the place, whether animate or inanimate, fell asleep also.

All this was done in a moment, for fairies are not long in doing their business.

And now the king and queen, having kissed their child without waking her, went out of the palace, and put forth a proclamation that nobody should come near it. This, however, was unnecessary, for in less than a quarter of an hour there got up all around the park such a vast number of trees, great and small bushes, and brambles, twined one within the other, that neither man nor beast could pass through, so that nothing could be seen but the very tops of the towers of the palace, and not that even, unless it was a good way off. Nobody doubted but the fairy gave therein a very extraordinary sample of her art, that the princess, while she remained sleeping, might have nothing to fear from any curious people.

When a hundred years had gone and past, the son of a king then reigning, and who was of another family from that of the sleeping princess, being out a-hunting on that side of the country, asked what these towers were which he saw in the midst of a great thick wood. Every one answered according as they had heard; some said it was an old ruinous castle, haunted by spirits; others, that all the sorcerers and witches kept their Sabbath, or weekly meeting, in that place.

The most common opinion was that an ogre lived there, and that he carried thither all the little children he could catch, that he might eat them up at his leisure, without anybody being able to follow him, as having himself only power to pass through the wood.

The prince was at a stand, not knowing what to believe, when an aged man spoke to him thus:—

"May it please your highness, it is about fifty years since I heard from my father, who heard my grandfather say that there was then in this castle a princess, the most beautiful that was ever seen, that she must sleep there for a hundred years, and would be wakened by a king's son, for whom she was reserved."

The young prince was all on fire at these words, believing, without considering the matter, that he could put an end to this rare adventure, and, pushed on by love and honour, resolved that moment to look into it.

Scarce had he advanced towards the wood, when all the great trees, the bushes, and brambles, gave way of their own accord, and let him pass through. He went up to the castle, which he saw at the end of a large avenue, which he went into; and what not a little surprised him was he saw none of his people could follow him, because the trees closed again as soon as he passed through them.

However, he did not cease from valiantly continuing his way. He came into a spacious outward court, where everything he saw might have frozen up the most hardy person with horror. There reigned all over a most frightful silence; the image of death everywhere showed itself, and there was nothing to be seen but stretched-out bodies of men and animals, all seeming to be dead.

He, however, very well knew, by the rosy faces and the pimpled noses of the beef-eaters, that they were only asleep; and their goblets, wherein still remained some few drops of wine, plainly showing that they all had fallen asleep in their cups.

He then, crossing a court paved with marble, went upstairs, and came into the guard-chamber, where the guards were standing in their ranks, with their muskets upon their shoulders, and snoring as loud as they could. After that, he went through several rooms full of gentlemen and ladies all asleep, some standing, and others sitting.

At last he came into a chamber all gilt with gold; here he saw upon a bed, the curtains of which were all open, the finest sight that ever he beheld—a princess, who appeared to be about fifteen or sixteen years of age, and whose resplendent beauty had in it something divine. He approached with trembling and admiration, and fell down before her on his knees. And now the enchantment was at an end; the princess awaked, and looked on him with eyes more tender than the first view might seem to admit of.

"Is it you, my prince?" she said to him; "you have waited a long time."

The prince, charmed with these words, and much more with the manner in which they were spoken, assured her that he loved her better than himself.

Their discourse was so well conducted that they did weep more than talk: there was very little eloquence, but a great deal of love. He was more at a loss than she was, and no wonder, as she had time to think on what to say to him; for it is very probable, though the history mentions nothing of it, that the good fairy, during so long a sleep, had given her agreeable dreams. In short, they talked four hours together, and yet said not half of what they had got to say.

In the meantime, all in the palace awaked, every one thinking on his particular business; and as all of them were not in love, they were ready to die with hunger. The chief lady of honour, being as sharp set as the others, grew very impatient, and told the princess aloud that the supper was served up. The prince helped the princess to rise, she being entirely dressed, and very magnificent, though his royal highness did not forget to tell her that she was dressed like his grandmother, and had a point-band peeping over a high collar; but, however, she looked no less beautiful and charming for all that.

They went into the great hall of looking glasses, where they supped, and were served by the officers of the princess; the violins and hautboys played all old tunes, but very excellent, though it was now about a hundred years since they had lived. And after supper without any loss of time, the lord almoner married them in the chapel of the castle, and the chief lady of honour drew the curtains.

They had but very little sleep that night, the princess had no occasion; and the prince left her the next morning to return into the city, where his father had been in great pain anxious for his return.

The prince told him he had lost his way in the forest as he was hunting, and had lain at the cottage of a collier, who had given him some brown bread and cheese.

The king; his father, who was a very good man, readily believed him; but his mother, the queen, could not be persuaded that this was altogether true; and seeing that he went almost every day a-hunting, and that he had always found some excuse for so doing, though he had lain out three or four nights together, she began to suspect (and very justly too) his having some little private amour, which he then endeavoured that she should remain ignorant of.

Now these frequent excursions, which he then made from the palace, were the times that he retired to the princess, with whom he lived in this manner for about two years, and by whom he had two fine children, the eldest of whom was a girl, whom they named Morning, and the youngest a boy, whom they named Day, because he was a great deal handsomer and much more beautiful and comely than the sister.

The queen's jealousy increasing, she several times spoke to her son, desiring him to inform her after what manner he spent his time, alleging that, as he saw her so very uneasy, he ought in duty to satisfy her. But he never dared to trust her with his secret, for she was of the race of ogres, and the king would certainly not have married her had it not been for her vast riches.

It was whispered among the court that she had an ogrish inclination, and that whenever she saw any little children going by, she had all the difficulty in the world to refrain from falling upon them; so the prince would never tell her one word.

But when the king was dead, which happened about two years afterwards, and he saw himself lord and master, he then openly declared his marriage, and went in great ceremony to conduct his queen to the palace. They made a very magnificent entry into the city, with their two children beside them.

Some time after, the king went to make war with the Emperor Cantalabute, his neighbour.

He left the government of the kingdom to the queen, his mother, and earnestly recommended to her the care of his wife and children.

As soon as he was departed, the queen sent for her daughter-in-law to come to her, and then sent her to a country house among the woods, that she might with more ease and secrecy gratify her inclinations.

Some days after she went to this country house herself, and calling for the clerk of the kitchen, she said to him, "I have a mind to eat little Morning for my dinner to-morrow."

"Ah, madam," cried the clerk of the kitchen in a very great surprise.

"No excuse," replied she, interrupting him; "I will have it so,"—and this she spoke in the tone of an ogress, seeming to have a strong desire to taste fresh meat. "And to make the dish more delicious," added she, "I will eat her with sauce made of Robert."

This poor man, knowing very well how dangerous it was to play tricks with ogresses, took his great knife and went up into little Morning's chamber. She was then four years old, and came up to him leaping and laughing, to take him about the neck, and asked him for some sugar-candy, on which he began to weep, and the knife fell out of his hand; and he went into the back yard and killed a lamb, which he dressed with such good sauce that his mistress assured him she had never eaten anything so good in all her life.

He had at the same time taken up little Morning, and carried her to his wife, in order that she might be concealed in a lodging which he had at the bottom of the courtyard.

The queen's lascivious appetite (according to her own apprehensions) being once humoured, she again began to long for another dainty bit. Accordingly, a few days after, she called for the clerk of the kitchen, and told him that she intended that night to sup out of little Day. He answered never a word, being resolved to cheat her as he had done before. He went to find little Day, and saw him with a foil in his hand, with which he was fencing with a monkey, the child being but three years old. He took him up in his arms and carried him to his wife, that she might conceal him in her chamber, along with his sister; and, in the room of little Day, cooked up a young kid very tender, which the ogress praised as much as the former, saying it was wonderfully good.

All hitherto was mighty well; but a few evenings after this craving, the ogress said to the clerk of the kitchen, "I will also eat the young queen with the same sauce that I had with the children."

Now was the critical time, for the poor clerk despaired of being able to deceive her.

The young queen was turned of twenty years of age, not counting the hundred years she had been asleep. Though her skin was somewhat tough, yet she was fair and beautiful: and how to find a beast in the yard so firm that he might kill and cook to appease her canine appetite, was what puzzled him greatly, and made him totally at a loss what to do.

He then took a resolution that he must save his own life, and cut the queen's throat; and going into her chamber with an intent to do it at once, he put himself into as great a fury as he could, went into the queen's room with his dagger in his hand. However, his humanity would not allow him to surprise her; but he told her, with a great deal of respect, the orders he had received from the queen her mother.

"Do it," said she, stretching out her neck; "execute your orders, and I shall go and see my children, whom I so dearly love." For she thought them dead ever since they had been taken from her.

"No, fair princess!" cried the humane clerk of the kitchen, all in tears; "you shall see your children again. But then you shall go with me to my lodgings, where I have concealed them; and I shall deceive the queen once more by giving her another young kid in your stead."

Upon this he forthwith conducted her to her chamber, where he left her to embrace her children, and cry aloud with them; and he then went and dressed a young kid, which the queen had for supper, and devoured it with the same appetite as though it had been the young queen.

Now was she exceedingly delighted with this unheard of cruelty; and she had invented a story to tell the king at his return how the mad wolves had eaten up the queen, his wife, with her two children.

One evening some time after, as she was, according to her usual custom, rambling about the court and yards of the palace to see if she could smell any fresh meat, she heard, in a ground room, little Day crying, for his mother was going to whip him because he had been guilty of some fault and she heard at the same time little Morning soliciting pardon for her brother.

The ogress presently knew the voice of the queen and her children, and being quite in a rage to think she had been thus deceived, she commanded the next morning, by break of day, in a most terrible voice, which made every one tremble, that they should bring into the middle of the court a very large tub, which she caused to be filled with toads, vipers, snakes, and all sorts of serpents, in order to throw into it the queen and her children, the clerk of the kitchen, his wife and maid: all of whom she had given orders to have brought thither, with their hands tied behind them, to suffer the vengeance of the incensed ogress.

They were brought out accordingly, and the executioners were going to throw them into the tub, when the king fortunately entered the court in his carriage, and asked with the utmost astonishment, what was meant by this horrid spectacle, no one daring to tell him.

When the ogress saw what had happened, she fell into a violent passion, and threw herself head foremost into the tub, and was instantly devoured by the ugly creatures she had ordered to be thrown into it by others.

The king could not but grieve, being very sorry, for she was his mother; but he soon comforted himself with his beautiful wife, and his two pretty children.

And after all things were settled, he well rewarded the clerk of the kitchen for his wisdom, humanity, and compassion.

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THE END.

PRINTED BY ALEXANDER GARDNER, PAISLEY

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ALEXANDER GARDNER,

Publisher and Bookseller By Special Appointment

To her late Majesty Queen Victoria.

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