raps that he had just cut, jumped up towards the dwarf,
and beat him on his humped back and his long arms, making the little
fellow scream with pain and run crying away.

Now in that town, as in others, there were but few of those
compassionate souls who will support a poor unfortunate with a
ridiculous appearance. Hence it was that the unlucky dwarf remained
all day without food, and was obliged in the evening to choose for his
night's quarters the steps of a church, though they were hard and cold.

When on the following morning the first rays of the sun awoke him, he
began seriously to think how he should prolong his existence, now that
his father and mother had rejected him; he was too proud to serve as a
sign-board to a barber; he would not hire himself us a merry-andrew to
be exhibited; what then should he do? It now occurred to him that as a
squirrel he had made considerable progress in the culinary art, and
thought he might justly expect to prove a match for any cook; he
therefore resolved to turn his art to advantage.

As soon, therefore, as the morning had dawned, and the streets became
animated, he entered a church and performed his devotions; thence he
proceeded on his way. The duke (the sovereign of the country) was a
notorious _gourmand_, who kept a good table, and sought cooks in all
parts of the world. To his palace the dwarf went. When he arrived at
the outer gate the porter asked his errand, and began to crack his
jokes on him; when he asked for the chief cook they laughed and led him
through the inner courts, and wherever he went the servants stood
still, looked at him, laughed heartily, and followed him, so that in a
short time a great posse of menials of all descriptions crowded up the
steps of the palace. The grooms threw away their curry-combs, the
running footmen ran with all their might, the carpet-spreaders ceased
beating their carpets, all crowded and thronged around him, as if the
enemy was at the gates, and the shouts of "A dwarf, a dwarf! have you
seen the dwarf?" filled the air.

At this moment the steward of the palace, with a furious countenance
and a large whip in his hand, made his appearance at the door, crying,
"For Heaven's sake, ye hounds, what is all this uproar for? Do you not
know that our gracious master is still asleep?" At the same time he
flourished his whip, laying it rather roughly about the backs of some
grooms and porters.

"Why sir," they all cried, "don't y