Said the Broom to the Mat: ‘In the yard I’ve lived most all my life, And with dust and dirt I’m aye at strife; So I know ’tis true the tale you tell, For have I not also learned it well? And to those who happen to cross my way, From the facts I’ve gained, I often say: If you want to win in life’s great game, It is well to stop when burns the flame! For the one who dares with fire to play, Will in burnt-out ash be swept away! For the Law is this: ’Tis clearly writ— And the fate of fools all witness it: Sweep hard! Dirt discard! Or you’ll slip on the slime of your own back yard!’” So these are the words of the Mat and the Broom; And this is the sum of their learning: “Attempt not to better the style of your room, Except by your own honest earning! For the Liars, and Misers, and Swindlers, and Fools, Are the handles and hafts of the Arch-Devil’s tools! And this truth, it were well, should be taught in the schools: Sweep hard! Dirt discard! And never neglect your own back yard!” When the “Official Recorder” had finished, the Prince stood up and said that he had great pleasure in asking the fourth of the “Five Story Tellers” to tell a tale. And this is the story told by “Smell”:— CLOVER PERFUME’S STORY “Once upon a time, a long while ago, I was looking for a lost baby Fairy in a field of well-grown, rich red clover. “The day was warm, and the drowsy hum of countless bees suggested to my mind that, perhaps the object of my search had fallen down, and was somewhere lying asleep beneath the spreading clover. Very carefully, therefore, I pulled aside many and many a bunch of sweet smelling blossoms, hoping to discover him. “Just as I found him I accidentally plucked a somewhat larger blossom than the rest from off its long, green stem, and, not exactly thinking of what I was doing, I parted the petals; and there, in the very heart of the flower, I saw the sweetest little fellow in creation. “In spite of the fact that he had been disturbed in a nap—for he woke up the very moment I espied him—his face instantly wreathed itself in smiles, and he waved his tiny hand at me in the friendliest greeting imaginable. Of a truth his whole attitude and bearing were so pleasant and affable that I was greatly taken with him, and felt an immediate desire to have him tell me something of his history, and his work. Indeed, so strongly was my curiosity aroused, that, almost before I was aware of it, I said: ‘Who are you, and what is your story?’ “And this is what he said in answer to my question:— “‘My name is Clover Perfume, and I am one of a very numerous family. To tell you the truth, I have brothers and sisters and all manner of other relatives all over the world. Everybody knows me,’ he continued, ‘except those who cannot smell, and they would nearly give their noses to make my acquaintance!’