A certain king, who, like many other
potentates, lived once upon a time, was
excessively annoyed by the circumstance
that he had no direct heir to his throne, and
his annoyance, in which the queen largely
participated, was increased by the reflection
that many of his poorer subjects were
blessed with families so large that, viewing
their scanty means, they did not highly
appreciate the blessing. While the royal
pair were together, they could console each
other with reciprocal expressions of
dissatisfaction; but on one occasion, when the
king was absent on some foreign expedition,
the queen, left to her own meditations,
found her condition absolutely intolerable.
There she sat in her garden day after day,
under the shadow of a wide-spreading
linden tree, her eyes filled with tears, looking
so exceedingly dismal, that her maids
of honour said confidentially to each other
that she gave them the "horrors."

One day, however, raising her eyes from
the ground, on which they were habitually
fixed, she saw a little old woman hobbling
along on a crutch, till she came to the
neighbouring fountain, where, stooping
with difficulty, she quenched her thirst.
Gaining new strength from the refreshment,
the diminutive hag then approached the
linden tree, and cheerfully nodding her
head, told the tearful queen that she had
come to bring her good luck.

Now, in the modern work-a-day world
we frequently find persons who, totally
unable to manage their own affairs, show a
marvellous degree of shrewdness in directing
those of their neighbours. We have
heard of a spirited gentleman who ran
through three estates with unaccountable
rapidity, and then, taking in hand the
accounts of a society, which seemed to be
involved in an insoluble tangle, brought
them into the most perfect ship-shape. This
financial feat performed, he ran through
his fourth estate with a velocity far
surpassing that exhibited on three previous
occasions. A merchant who has been
twice in the Gazette is not, on that
account, deemed a whit less competent
than any of his neighbours to write a
pamphlet on the currency, showing how
national bankruptcy may, without the slightest
difficulty, be converted into national wealth.
Facts like these, however, not having fallen
within the sphere of the queen's observation,
she felt doubtful of the old woman's
ability to bestow good luck, when she
obviously possessed so little for home
consumption.

The old woman read her thoughts, and
bade her not to be despondent, but to
hold out her left hand and have her
fortune told. Predicting good luck and
bringing it are widely different functions,
and the queen, aware that the gift of
palmistry is frequently accompanied by
extreme shabbiness of attire, made no
difficulty in extending her hand as requested.
Taking hold of the delicate finger-tips, the
old woman, after tediously hemming and
hawing over the lines on the queen's palm,
at last spake thus:

"You have two causes of uneasiness.
In the first place you are anxious about
your absent husband, but with your
majesty's good pleasure we'll set down that
as nothing" (the queen bowed assent);
"though I may as well tell you that within
a fortnight the king will be at home again,
looking as well as ever. But the grand
truth is a total lack of olive-branches—"

The queen, pulling her hand a little, and
deeply blushing, asked:

"Who are you, that can read the feelings
of my heart in the palm of my hand?"

"That," retorted the old lady, sharply,
"is my business. So, without asking any
more irrelevant questions, you'll just have
the goodness to listen to me, while I tell
you how to get out of your present
difficulty. Look here!"

So saying, she drew from her bosom a
tiny bundle, which she gradually
unwrapped, till she produced a small basket,
which she gave to the queen, and then
proceeded:

"In this basket you will find a bird's
egg, which you will condescend to carry
in your bosom for three months. When
these are passed a very small child will be
hatched—"

"Ridiculously small?" inquired the
queen.

"About half the size of my little finger,"
explained the old woman. "Well, you will
put this extremely small child, which, by
the way, I cannot connect with anything
ridiculous, in a basket of wool, which must
always be kept in a warm place."

"And the ridicu—extremely small
child is to be fed with—" the queen
paused.

"Nothing," supplemented the old woman.
"It will require neither food nor drink.
Well, nine months after the birth of the
extremely small child—"

"Birth?" objected the queen. "Shall
we not rather say hatchment?"

"Say what you like, as long as you do