again, and smelt the savoury fumes of a capital dinner. The little figures were all eating; the largest was not a quarter of an inch in height; and one of them, turning towards the Prince, said to him, "To your good health, Torticoli! strive to restore our queen to us. If you do so, it will be well for you; if you do not, it will be ill for you." At these words the Prince was seized with such a violent panic, (for he had been trembling for some time,) that he let the book drop on one side, and fell on the other like a dead man. At the noise of his fall his keepers ran in. They loved him dearly, and neglected nothing to recover him from his swoon. As soon as he was able to speak, they asked what was the matter with him. He replied that he was so weak for want of proper food that his mind wandered; and his imagination being worked upon, he had fancied he had seen and heard such wonderful things in that book that he was panic-struck. His guardians, much afflicted, gave him something good to eat, in spite of the King's prohibition. When he had eaten, he took up the book again before them, and no longer found anything he had seen in it. This convinced him that he had been under a delusion.
He returned the next day to the gallery. He saw the figures again in the windows, moving, promenading in avenues, hunting stags and hares, fishing, and building tiny houses, for they were very small miniatures, and his portrait was to be seen in every one of them. It had a dress exactly like his own. It ascended into the keep of the tower, and discovered the golden ramrod. As the Prince had eaten a good breakfast, he could no longer imagine this was the work of fancy. "This is too mysterious," said he, "for me to neglect the means of knowing more. Perhaps I may learn more in the keep." He ascended to it, and striking against the wall, he fancied that a portion of it sounded hollow. He took a hammer, and knocking down some of the wall near this spot, he found a golden ramrod, very neatly made. He was puzzling himself to think of what use it could be to him, when he perceived in one corner of the room an old worm-eaten wooden press. He tried to open it, but he could find no lock. He turned it about, and hunted on every side; but it was labour in vain. At last he espied a small hole, and suspecting that the ramrod might be useful, inserted the
