he fillagree box and the queen's hair,
which now and then came between her and her usual feeling of
self-satisfaction.

Presently her young friends came--several little girls of various
ages, and now nature once more revived in poor Julia. The children
felt and expressed such hearty pleasure at the sight of her treasures.
There were such joyous exclamations; such bursts of delight; such
springing and jumping about, that Julia became infected with the
general pleasure, and was a happy child herself. Yes! even though the
fillagree box had been shown off and admired. But what do children in
general know about the _value_ of things and how much they cost? Ah,
much more just in their judgments than we elders are apt to be, a bird
of Paradise such as adorned the top of Julia's cabinet, or a peacock's
tail, such as she had in a drawer, is to their unprejudiced eyes more
desirable than the gold of Ophir itself!

So now you see this triumph of simplicity over art, despoiled the
fillagree box of all its horrors, for the innocent children admired
her shells yet more--unsophisticated, and insensible to the long story
about the value of the rubies, the maid of honour, and even the
queen's hairs.

Still the Fairies felt and saw that it was not Euphrosyne's gift, but
rather the forgetfulness of it which caused these hours of happiness
to Julia, and somewhat puzzled as to the result they left the votary
of riches, not quite without a sensation that little Aglaia's proposal
of moderate health and enough riches to be "comfortable without being
puzzled," was about the best thing after all, though not much of a
Fairy gift. And now, my little readers, I am beginning to get rather
tired of my story, and to feel that you may do so too. I think I am
getting rather prosy, so I must try and cut the matter short. Four out
of the five Fairy gifts were like beauty and riches, worldly
advantages. For instance, there was the little girl who was to have
every earthly pleasure at her feet--i.e. she was to have every thing
she wished for--why she was fifty times worse off than either Aurora
or Julia, for I will tell you whom she was like. She was like the
fisherman's wife in Grimm's German popular fairy tales, who had every
thing she wished, and so at last wished to be king of the sun and
moon. I doubt not you remember her well, and how she was in
consequence sent back to her mud cottage. I think, therefore, I need
not describe the young lady who ha