There was once a poor and plain little girl dwelling in a little room in Stockholm, the capital of Sweden. She was a poor little girl indeed, then; she was lonely and neglected, and would have been very unhappy, deprived of the kindness and care so necessary to a child, if it had not been for a peculiar gift. The little girl had a fine voice, and in her loneliness, in trouble or in sorrow, she consoled herself by singing. In fact she sang to all she did; at her work, at her play, running or resting, she always sang. The woman who had her in care went out to work during the day, and used to lock in the little girl, who had nothing to enliven her solitude but the company of a cat. The little girl played with her cat and sang. Once she sat by the open window and stroked her cat and sang, when a lady passed by. She heard the voice and looked up and saw the little singer. She asked the child several questions, went away, and came back several days later, followed by an old music master, whose name was Crelius. He tried the little girl’s musical ear and voice, and was astonished. He took her to the director of the Royal Opera of Stockholm, then a Count Puhe, whose truly generous and kind heart was concealed by rough speech and a morbid temper. Crelius introduced his little pupil to the count, and asked him to engage her as “_élève_ for the opera.” “You ask a foolish thing!” said the count, gruffly, looking disdainfully down on the poor little girl. “What shall we do with that ugly thing? see what feet she has? And then her face? She will never be presentable. No, we can not take her. Away with her!” The music master insisted, almost indignantly. “Well,” exclaimed he at last, “if you will not take her, poor as I am, I will take her myself, and have her educated for the scene; such another ear as she has for music is not to be found in the world!” The count relented. The little girl was at last admitted into the school for _élèves_, at the Opera, and with some difficulty a simple gown of black bombazine was procured for her. The care of her musical education was left to an able master, Mr. Albert Breg, director of the song school of the Opera. Some years later, at a comedy given by the _élèves_ of the theatre, several persons were struck by the spirit and life with which a very young _élève_ acted the part of a beggar-girl in the play. Lovers of genial nature were charmed, pedants almost frightened. It was our poor little girl, who had made her first appearance, now about fourteen years of age, frolicksome and full of fun as a child.