A pathetic recital for the benefit of you, or me, or any other snail who may want a tortoise-shell. In what year, or under what king Bezoman, lived he, no matter. Suffice it to know he still survives. Once he was happy! Once, whene'er the eventide flooded the earth with effulgent glory, and each little star began to wonder who I was, to the loftiest turret of his quite commodious castle this dwarf would climb, and muse upon sciology and the cosmic forces. [Illustration] "Oh! Life is joy--is peace to me!" would he cry, ever and anon. And ever an anonymous owl would scream, "To whoo? To whoo?" Upon one eventful eve he sat upon his turret. Gazing around, he sprang upon his feet. "What, ho!" he cried, as a glimmer of light shot across the surface of the lake, "What, ho! A light in the ship-house! Tis the red light of danger! I forbode." Glancing around and beneath him, he perceived that the stucco was peeling from his favorite turret. "Here is danger, indeed!" he said; and loudly shouted for his ah! too dilatory servant to bring the ladder by which he ascended and descended his lofty pinnacle. At last the servant came, and he was a new and somewhat weighty waiter youth. "Ah! big lad--!" then said the dwarf. "I am glad, good sir," replied the boy. "I would have the big ladder!" cried his master. "I can't be gladder," said the boy. The dwarf looked pityingly down upon the youth for several moments. "Are you a natural-born fool?" said he. The boy advanced to the edge of the roof, made a bow, placed one arm at right angles before him, while the other hung by his side, and thus he sang his song: "I've never been to public school, My vaccination did not take. Perhaps I will grow up a fool; But that my heart will never break. I would not win in learning's race, Nor e'er be rich and lose my looks; I think that a small-pocked face Is worse than e'en small pocket-books. Then, didy fol, la, la, la, la!--" "Stop!" cried the now enraged dwarf. "Begone! ere I, base boy! shall heave the turret down." "Certainly," replied the youth. "Big, ornary, base boy shall leave thee to rot down. Oh! yes; of course, of course!" And away he went. The Court fool came at last and let his master down. "Oh! ho!" said he of the motley, as the dwarf came slowly down the ladder. "Thou art now the first descendant of thy house." The dwarf laughed, and fell the rest of the way. "No matter!" he cried, rubbing his shins. "My house shall follow me. It shall come down too. I am going to have it all built up anew." "Bravo!" said the clown. "I thought you were too happy." On the next day the door-bell of the castle rang, and soon a varlet came to fast inform my lord the dwarf that in the parlor waited now a giant, and on the card he gave his name was written, "S.T. Mate." The dwarf unto his parlor quick repaired, and there, upon some dozen chairs the giant sat, smiling benign.