her with his claws: a fight ensued,
and the whole neighbourhood was alarmed at the outcry.

Two Moles who were passing by the foot of the tree, hearing
this dreadful noise, called out to the combatants to stop.
The Dormice fearing it might be some of the Weasels who
spoke, were silent instantly, and then the Moles bade them
come out.

So the Dormice came down to the Moles; and when the Moles
found that the silly creatures were bent on their quarrel,
they insisted that the combat should be with swords.
Moreover, they offered to play the part of seconds, and to
dig a grave for the vanquished.

To all this the Dormice consented; the Moles found an old
trap, and from the iron parts they fashioned rude swords.
These they measured, and gave to the combatants; and then,
with their long spades in their hands, they awaited the
issue of the affray. It was fierce and desperate. The hungry
one fought with fury, but he who had had a good feast was
the stronger and the calmer: at last the younger one drove
his sword right through the body of the elder; but the elder
at the same moment clove his opponent's head asunder, and so
they fell dead together. And the Moles dug a deep hole, and
buried both the Dormice in the same grave.

[Illustration: THE KITTENS AT TEA--MISS PAULINA SINGING.]

THE SIX KITTENS.

Once upon a time a cat had six kittens, whom she brought up
in the most genteel manner. No one could say that their
education was in any wise neglected, for besides being
taught the ordinary duties of life by their mother, such as
mouse-hunting, fish-stealing, and bird-catching, they
received instructions in the arts of singing, and playing
the harp and the piano, and were taught to waltz and dance
the polka with every imaginable grace. Now when the kittens
grew to be of age, it was their custom of an afternoon to
spend some hours at tea and intellectual talk. The youngest
always performed the duties of servant, while one of the
elder ones would entertain the rest by playing airs from the
latest opera, or singing a love-song, the music of which she
had herself composed.

It is true some animals who dwelt close by complained of
this music, and called it by all kinds of ill names; but
that is ever the jealous way of the world: and the kittens
frequently performed serenades in their garden by moonlight,
when all who passed by would stay to listen to their melody.

But to our tale. It happened that, one fine summe