THE TWO NURSES.

IN the days of King Belis, who was the first king of the East, there lived a lady who was called the "Mother of Fairies," from the great beauty of her offspring. Indeed, they were so fair and well formed, that the nurse who took them at their birth declared they could not have been more beautiful had they been her own, which was very probable, for she was not only exceedingly ugly, but far advanced in years. However, the old

woman took all the credit of them to herself, observing that they were more and more charming, the more she nursed them, and particularly the the last-born, so that she declared she would rather have it to sit upon her lap than "a cherubim." It was a boy; and in order that he might not lose his fair complexion, she washed him night and morning with dew. In fact, he was so fair, that she could never fancy his clothes were clean enough, but gave such endless trouble to the four-and

twenty laundresses who were employed to wash the baby's clothes, that they all struck for double wages, which, as there was plenty of money in the case, they easily obtained.

Prismor, the nurse, though an old woman, was exceedingly vain, and liked nothing better than to dress herself up in the finest clothes she could muster. So nothing else would serve her but that she must copy her mistress in everything; and whenever her lady had a new dress or fresh pattern, the following week Prismor contrived to have something like it. Her greatest delight was to dress up her nursling in all his finest attire, and placing him in his gilt coach, drawn by tame gazelles, to pace by his side in all the most public resorts of the city. Truly, pride was her prevailing sin; and as long as she could attract all attention to herself, she was perfectly happy. Unfortunately, however, she was not fated to reign unrivalled; for there was another nurse who disputed the palm with her, and who undoubtedly shared the public attention and admiration.

Close by the palace belonging to the "Mother of Fairies" dwelt another courtier's wife, the Lady Guzra, who had been lately married, and whose beautiful little baby daughter, in her elegant white satin pelisse and ostrich feathers, seated in a silver

cockle-shell carriage, drawn by white greyhounds, drew universal attention. Bowbow, this lady's nurse, used to march along with her head in the air, casting glances of malicious triumph at Prismor, so that the latter longed to scratch her eyes out on the spot. One day they met side by side under the great sycamore trees of the most fashionable walk of the city. Here the two nurses, after a spiteful greeting, began to extol their own children's beauty and perfection; and from this, waxing warm, they both fell to finding fault with and abusing the other's. At last they broke out into a violent quarrel, and appealed to several of the passers-by, who could not agree either as to which of the children was the fairest, and so at last decided that they were equally beautiful. This, instead of pacifying, provoked still further both the nurses, who would have flown at each other, and settled the fray with their nails, had not the bystanders interfered. On this they sullenly separated, vowing future vengeace, and went to their respective homes.

Prismor was especially disgusted at the verdict given so publicly, and was still the more furious secretly that her own eyes had told her that her child was but little, if at all, fairer than the other. She therefore resolved to visit an old fairy, who