daylight. He then scrambled out of the tree and went to lift up
the door. What did he behold but a number of golden guineas! "Come down,
Mrs. Vinegar," he cried; "come down, I say; our fortune's made! Come
down, I say."

Mrs. Vinegar got down as fast as she could and saw the money with equal
delight. "Now, my dear," said she, "I'll tell you what you shall do.
There is a fair at the neighboring town; you shall take these forty
guineas and buy a cow. I can make butter and cheese, which you shall
sell at market, and we shall then be able to live very comfortably."

Mr. Vinegar joyfully assents, takes the money, and goes off to the fair.
When he arrived, he walked up and down, and at length saw a beautiful
red cow. It was an excellent milker and perfect in every respect. "Oh,"
thought Mr. Vinegar, "if I had but that cow, I should be the happiest
man alive." So he offers the forty guineas for the cow, and the owner
declaring that, as he was a friend, he'd oblige him, the bargain was
made. Proud of his purchase, he drove the cow backwards and forwards to
show it. By-and-by he saw a man playing the bagpipes--_tweedle-dum,
tweedle-dee_. The children followed him about, and he appeared to be
pocketing money on all sides. "Well," thought Mr. Vinegar, "if I had but
that beautiful instrument, I should be the happiest man alive--my
fortune would be made." So he went up to the man. "Friend," says he,
"what a beautiful instrument that is, and what a deal of money you must
make."

"Why, yes," said the man, "I make a great deal of money, to be sure, and
it is a wonderful instrument."

"Oh!" cried Mr. Vinegar, "how I should like to possess it!"

"Well," said the man, "as you are a friend, I don't much mind parting
with it; you shall have it for that red cow."

"Done!" said the delighted Mr. Vinegar. So the beautiful red cow was
given for the bagpipes. He walked up and down with his purchase; but in
vain he attempted to play a tune, and instead of pocketing pence, the
boys followed him hooting, laughing, and pelting.

Poor Mr. Vinegar, his fingers grew very cold, and heartily ashamed and
mortified, he was leaving the town, when he met a man with a fine thick
pair of gloves. "Oh, my fingers are so very cold," said Mr. Vinegar to
himself. "If I had but those beautiful gloves I should be the happiest
man alive." He went up to the man, and said to him: "Friend, you seem to
have a capital pair of gloves there."

"Yes, truly," cried t