gallery, which was certainly rather
incomprehensible. The painter, however, consoled the little fellow, and
tried to soften the woman's anger, but she would not be pacified till
her husband returned from the police with Bellissima. Then there was
great rejoicing, and the painter caressed the boy and gave him a number
of pictures.

Oh, what beautiful pictures those were--figures with funny heads! And,
best of all, the Metal Pig was there, too. Nothing could be more
delightful! By means of a few strokes it was made to appear on the
paper; and even the house that stood behind it had been sketched. Oh, if
he could only draw and paint! He who could do this could conjure all the
world before him. The first leisure moment during the next day the boy
got a pencil, and on the back of one of the other drawings he attempted
to copy the drawing of the Metal Pig, and he succeeded. Certainly it was
rather crooked, rather up and down, one leg thick, and another thin.
Still it was like the copy, and he was overjoyed at what he had done.
The pencil would not go quite as it ought, he had found, but the next
day he tried again. A second pig was drawn by the side of the first, and
this looked a hundred times better. The third attempt was so good that
everybody could see what it was meant to represent.

And now the glovemaking went on but slowly. The orders given by the
shops in the town were not finished quickly; for the Metal Pig had
taught the boy that all objects may be drawn upon paper, and Florence is
a picture book in itself for any one who chooses to turn over its pages.
On the Piazza della Trinita stands a slender pillar, and upon it is the
goddess of justice blindfolded, with her scales in her hand. She was
soon represented on paper, and it was the glovemaker's boy who placed
her there. His collection of pictures increased, but as yet they were
only copies of lifeless objects, when one day Bellissima came gamboling
before him. "Stand still," cried he, "and I will draw you beautifully,
to put in my collection."

Bellissima would not stand still, so she must be bound fast in one
position. He tied her head and tail, but she barked and jumped and so
pulled and tightened the string that she was nearly strangled. And just
then her mistress walked in.

"You wicked boy! The poor little creature!" was all she could utter.

She pushed the boy from her, thrust him away with her foot, called him a
most ungrateful, good-for-nothing, wicke