perfect scarecrow, into a young
and beautiful lady for ever."

"It was the magpie that told, wasn't it?" asked Willie.

"I suspect it was," answered his mother, "and the cat was the very first
to learn the news, and she was perfectly crazy to see so interesting a
stranger, with three such wonderful hairs. 'I tell you what!' she said
to her maid, 'I'll have those three hairs before I am three days older.'

"Then the cat put on a white satin bonnet with ten ostrich feathers
fastened all over it, and a thread-lace veil, her pink satin shoes, and
a green parasol, and set out for a walk. Of course, she met the fox the
very first thing; and he made her such a low bow that he very nearly
cracked his spine. She blushed, and simpered, and thought the fox was
the very pink of politeness; and he flattered her until she was quite
ready to believe he was, also, the pink of perfection.

"Meanwhile, let us see what became of his rival, poor Beppo."

"Ah, the poor fellow!" cried Willie, "no chance for him--buried alive!
just think."

"Wait till the end. When Beppo found that he was in this dismal trap, he
gave himself up for lost. In vain he kicked, and scratched, and banged
his hind legs against the heavy stone, he only succeeded in bruising his
paws; and, at length, he was forced to lie down, so exhausted that his
tongue hung a quarter of a yard out of his mouth, and he breathed like a
locomotive. 'Dear me!' he said, 'it won't do to be starved here, without
trying my best to escape;' and he repeated to himself this fine piece of
poetry, the comfort and truth of which he had often, proved:--

"'If you find your task is hard,
Try--try again;
Time will bring you your reward;
Try--try again.
All that other dogs can do,
Why, with patience, should not you?
Only keep this rule in view--
TRY--TRY AGAIN.'

"'Now, let me see--if I can't get out one way, I will try if there is
not a hole at the other end.' Thus saying, his courage returned, and he
began to push on in the same straightforward way in which he had always
conducted himself. At first the path was exceedingly narrow, and he was
squeezed almost as flat as a pancake, besides being in mortal fear that
his ribs would be broken in pieces like a crockery tea-pot, the stones
that projected on either side were so sharp and rough. If he had been a
cat, it would not have made so much difference, as they are said to have
nine lives.