“Try mine,” said the eel, who had wriggled to the front. “No, thank you,” replied the fox again, “I should slip over your head and be drowned.” “You won’t slip on MY back,” said the perch, coming forward. “No; but you are really TOO rough,” returned the fox. “Well, you can have no fault to find with ME,” put in the trout. “Good gracious! are YOU here?” exclaimed the fox. “But I’m afraid to trust myself to you either.” At this moment a fine salmon swam slowly up. “Ah, yes, you are the person I want,” said the fox; “but come near, so that I may get on your back, without wetting my feet.” So the salmon swam close under the island, and when he was touching it the fox seized him in his claws and drew him out of the water, and put him on a spit, while he kindled a fire to cook him by. When everything was ready, and the water in the pot was getting hot, he popped him in, and waited till he thought the salmon was nearly boiled. But as he stooped down the water gave a sudden fizzle, and splashed into the fox’s eyes, blinding him. He started backwards with a cry of pain, and sat still for some minutes, rocking himself to and fro. When he was a little better he rose and walked down a road till he met a grouse, who stopped and asked what was the matter. “Have you a pair of eyes anywhere about you?” asked the fox politely. “No, I am afraid I haven’t,” answered the grouse, and passed on. A little while after the fox heard the buzzing of an early bee, whom a gleam of sun had tempted out. “Do you happen to have an extra pair of eyes anywhere?” asked the fox. “I am sorry to say I have only those I am using,” replied the bee. And the fox went on till he nearly fell over an asp who was gliding across the road. “I should be SO glad if you would tell me where I could get a pair of eyes,” said the fox. “I suppose you don’t happen to have any you could lend me?” “Well, if you only want them for a short time, perhaps I could manage,” answered the asp; “but I can’t do without them for long.” “Oh, it is only for a very short time that I need them,” said the fox; “I have a pair of my own just behind that hill, and when I find them I will bring yours back to you. Perhaps you will keep these till them.” So he took the eyes out of his own head and popped them into the head of the asp, and put the asp’s eyes in their place. As he was running off he cried over his shoulder: “As long as the world lasts the asps’ eyes will go down in the heads of foxes from generation to generation.” And so it has been; and if you look at the eyes of an asp you will see that they are all burnt; and though thousands and thousands of years have gone by since the fox was going about playing tricks upon everybody he met, the asp still bears the traces of the day when the sly creature cooked the salmon. [Lapplandische Mahrchen.] Kisa the Cat