Front Cover
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 List of Illustrations
 Flossy takes a journey
 In a Chinese home
 The little Breton peasant
 As a Spanish girl
 At the gypsy quarter
 The best of all
 The child's paradise
 Among the Lapps
 Going to the mission
 "Casket of pearls"
 The caste system
 The spell is broken
 Back Cover

Group Title: The bubbling teapot : a wonder story
Title: The bubbling teapot
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00082315/00001
 Material Information
Title: The bubbling teapot a wonder story
Physical Description: 266 p., 1 leaf of plates : ill. ; 19 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Champney, Elizabeth W ( Elizabeth Williams ), 1850-1922
Satterlee, Walter, 1844-1908 ( Illustrator )
D. Lothrop & Company ( Publisher )
Publisher: D. Lothrop Company
Place of Publication: Boston
Publication Date: 1893, c1886
Copyright Date: 1886
Subject: Imagination -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Dreams -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
National characteristics -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Teapots -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Artists -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Artists' models -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Fantasy literature -- 1893   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1893
Genre: Fantasy literature   ( rbgenr )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
Summary: Flossy Tangleskein changes back and forth from a bubbling teapot to a weeping girl as she imagines she is a child in the countries of the 24 paintings she modeled for Mr. Rose.
Statement of Responsibility: by Lizzie W. Champney ; twelve illustrations by Walter Satterlee.
General Note: Frontispiece: Mr. Rose looks suspiciously like James Whistler and Flossy Tangleskein is dressed in kimono similar to one in from "Caprice in Purple and Gold No. 2: The Golden Screen" by Whistler.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00082315
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002223544
notis - ALG3794
oclc - 214278430

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Title Page
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Table of Contents
        Page 3
        Page 4
    List of Illustrations
        Page 5
        Page 6
    Flossy takes a journey
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
    In a Chinese home
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
    The little Breton peasant
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
    As a Spanish girl
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
    At the gypsy quarter
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
    The best of all
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
    The child's paradise
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
    Among the Lapps
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
    Going to the mission
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
    "Casket of pearls"
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
    The caste system
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
        Page 240
        Page 241
        Page 242
    The spell is broken
        Page 243
        Page 244
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Page 249
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
        Page 253
        Page 254
        Page 255
        Page 256
        Page 257
        Page 258
        Page 259
        Page 260
        Page 261
        Page 262
        Page 263
        Page 264
        Page 265
        Page 266
        Page 267
        Page 268
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

f I

Reading, Vt.

Given byI, ae_.
Ton or City I
State ..... ....
clale //_ .. l__ 7. .


The Baldwin Library

M : 1 I. P ',

,~ '4"'







Copyright, 1886,



























Flossy Tangleskein in Mr. Rose's Studio Front.
Flossy Tangleskein as the Chinese Girl, Hi Ski 31
Flossy Tangleskein as Babette, the little Breton
Peasant 45
Flossy Tangleskein as Bianca, the Spanish Girl 69
Flossy Tangleskein as Katinka, the Granada
Gypsy Girl 87
Flossy Tangleskein as Zobeide, the little Egyptian 1o3
Flossy Tangleskein as an African Princess 123
Flossy Tangleskein as Gudrun, the Lapland Girl 139
Flossy Tangleskein as the Brazilian Girl 59
"My precious Pomegranate Blossom," she ex-
claimed 193
Flossy Tangleskein as the Hindu Girl, Nourmahal 219
Flossy Tangleskein as the little Roman Giovanina 251




M R. ROSE, whose studio was on the very top
floor of the apartment house opposite which
Flossy Tangleskein lived, wished Flossy to pose
for him.
He admitted that this was a great favor, but
among all the models of the city he knew of no little
face that would suit him so well, and as the fami-
lies were old friends he asked it as a special kind-
The studio had a great fascination for Flossy.
She had a queer notion that one day, when she
was a younger girl, and had played here with the
artist's son Ruby, they had seen a pair of wonder-
ful paint-bogies; queer little elves who had told


them stories and had made remarkable things
happen to them. Flossy had been laughed at not
a little for this belief but she still held it firmly, and
the studio seemed to her enchanted ground where
anything strange might happen. It was a year
since she had entered it, for when Ruby and she
had last played there they had made free with the
paints, and had dressed up in the costumes; and
since then Mr. Rose had not been prodigal of his
invitations to children. He was a nervous man,
and did not enjoy having them dash about among
his bric-h-brac, or stand too near his freshly-
painted pictures. Still Flossy cherished the mem-
ory of what she had seen in the room, how her
eyes'had grown large with wonder and admiration
at the curious things with which it was filled.
There was a brilliant blue and yellow macaw
chained to a perch, which she liked to feed, offer-
ing it lumps of sugar at a safe distance with a pair
of sugar-tongs, for the macaw had a vicious tem-
per. There were portfolios of sketches which she
would have liked to rummage; and stately gowns
which she would have enjoyed trying on. Alto-


gether everything was different from the careful
propriety of their own parlor, and Flossy was
tired of the sameness and commonplace of her
comfortable and quiet life, in which nothing excit-
ing ever happened as in the story-books.
I wish," she thought to herself, that I had
been born some other kind of a child,

For I might have been a Russian,
A Frenchman or a Prussian,
Or even an Italian.
But in spite of each temptation,
To belong to another nation,
I am only an American."

It would have been a great deal more romantic,
she thought, to, have been an Italian bambino in
wonderful Rome or Naples, far more interesting
to have been born among lotus blossoms, an
Egyptian child. There was a portfolio of Egyp-
tian photographs in Mr. Rose's studio, but among
them one of a ruined temple with long colonnades
of columns with tulip-shaped capitals, and the
great, lazy Nile shimmering in the background.
No school bell could pierce the slumberous air;


there certainly was the Child's Paradise. How
picturesque too, she might have been as a French
peasant in the happy vineyards of France. It
was as a Breton peasant child that Mr. Rose
wished her to pose. And he handed her a queer
little costume which he had brought back from
Pont Aven ; consisting of a rather long-skirted,
dull blue petticoat, a white waist with full sleeves,
a black velvet bodice and a queer little cap.
Flossy slipped these on in the dressing room, her
fluffy blonde hair escaped from the cap, covering
her shoulders, and Mr. Rose fastened about her
neck a silver chain with curiously formed links, and
gave her a clumsy pair of sabots or wooden shoes,
in which she found it very hard to hobble across
the studio. Then he showed her a sketch of the
picture which he wished to make a little girl
guarding a flock of turkeys in a broad meadow;
in the distance loomed the pinnacled and gabled
roof of a grand French chateau.
When Flossy had taken the desired position
Mr. Rose began to paint, amusing her as he did
so with a legend of Brittany. The child's head was


quite turned, and she wished passionately that she
might have been a Breton peasant child. She was
so discontented with her hum-drum-bread-and-but-
ter-spelling-book, American child-life that she even
said to herself she would gladly change to a little
Zulu savage, or an almond-eyed Oriental like the
ones who were perpetually walking in the tea-
garden on the great embroidered screen.
Mr. Rose, like many another artist, was ex-
tremely fond of Oriental bric-h-brac, by which term
we mean all the bright and curious things we see
in the Japanese stores. He was a collector too,
as far as his purse would permit. A great Japa-
nese umbrella hung in the centre of his studio,
and, as Flossy said, gayafied the whole apartment.
The room was further brightened by a shelf of
Japanese and Chinese porcelain, and a screen
draped with costumes in Canton cr8pe and soft
silks of exquisite tints. Mr. Rose let her put on
one of these. It was a little brocade wrapper,
one side of which was sky-blue, and across it were
embroidered sprays and branches of blossoming
peach, and soft white storks, flying in long lines.


The other side of the dress was irregularly divided*
into purple and rose-colored spaces, the purple
figured in great golden dragons, and the rose in
kaleidoscopic patterns of mingling colors. It
was a very beautiful garment wadded and lined
with fine crepe of a pale saffron tint. It nearly
touched the floor, and Flossy thought she had
never seen any American child dressed half so
fine. Why was it that her mamma considered it
out of taste to wear more than two colors at once,
when this gorgeous robe combined at least eight ?
She stepped before the mirror and lifted her arms
with the long sleeves. "I look like one of the
teapots up there on the shelf," she said, laughing.
You do indeed," replied Mr. Rose, taking
down a beautifully enamelled Satsuma one and plac-
ing it on the table beside her. "Do you know,"
he continued, "that the Japs have a story about a
Bubbling Teapot, something like Aladdin and the
Wonderful Lamp ? And it is not very strange that
there should be a similarity between the two, for
Aladdin is a Chinese story."
"Tell me about the teapot, please," said Flossy.


I don't quite remember it. It was a mess of
nonsense about a bubbling girl and a weeping tea-
pot. Every time the teapot cried it turned into a
boiling girl, and every time the girl bubbled she
turned into a weeping teapot."
I think you have mixed that up, something the
way my Grandma Tangleskein mixes sermons,"
Flossy remarked gravely. She remained perfectly
quiet for a few moments, her eyes fixed on a gilt
dragon which formed the handle of the teapot
with its contortions. Then she glanced at her
right sleeve about which another golden dragon
writhed, and said slowly, I wish I had been born
in the Arabian Nights, and could change into a
pretty teapot." Then she gave a little cry, but
Mr. Rose did not hear her for he had suddenly
remembered a Cloisonn6 vase which was to be sold
that morning at auction at the custom house, for
non-payment of duty, and seizing his hat he rushed
out, hoping that he was not too late to secure it.
(First Transformation.)
Flossy's scream was occasioned by a double cir-
cumstance. The teapot on the table grew limp and


settled down into a mass of silken drapery. It had
changed suddenly into the costume which Flossy
had beenwearing. At the same time her right arm,
which she had raised to her head, stiffened, and she
was unable to lower it, the left, which she had ex-
tended involuntarily, was paralyzed in that po-
sition, and she felt her own form changing into a
dumpy round shape, while the silken dress hard-
ened into adamant, the tints and patterns only re-
maining the same. She looked at the mirror and
saw that her features were transforming, her head
sinking in, the eyes disappearing, the lips losing
themselves in a wrinkle until the change was com-
plete. She had become a teapot! Flossy laughed
merrily, the idea was so funny; but her laugh had an
unnatural gurgling sound like the boiling of water.
Wonder how long I shall stay so," she said to
herself. Until somebody tries to make tea in me,
I suppose. I wonder whether Mr. Rose will put
me over the gas-stove and make some for lunch."
The idea was rather appalling, and she hoped that
he would not do so. She sat very quietly after that
looking at the other bits of porcelain and wonder-


ing whether they too were enchanted maidens, un-
til Mr. Rose flung open the studio door and strode
into the room in a manner which betokened tri-
umph. He held in his hand the coveted vase, and
he had brought with him an almond-eyed, dark-
skinned stranger, who, although he was dressed
like an American, was unmistakably a Japanese.
"Yes," Mr. Rose remarked, evidently continu-
ing a conversation, I have already some nice bits
of the art of your country, which I shall be pleased
toshowyou. Flossy! Where is the child? Ah!
she has placed the costume on the table; but how
careless in her to leave this teapot on the floor
(lifting Flossy by one arm as he spoke). Let me
see, where shall I put this ? I must have my new
vase on the shelf, and really I have no room for
this little object now."
May I see it ? the strange gentleman asked, and
Mr. Rose placed Flossy in his hand. He looked
at her attentively turning her around slowly and not
taking any great interest in the other articles which
Mr. Rose showed him. Just as he was leaving he
asked, Have you ever made tea in this teapot ?"


"No," replied Mr. Rose, "I feared I might in
jure it."
The stranger smiled significantly. "I need not
have asked," he said, "you were quite right, you
would have had no teapot left. I sail to Japan to-
morrow, and have taken a fancy to this object,
will you sell it ? "
"You may take it freely," replied Mr. Rose,
" and I shall in turn be obliged to you if you can
pick up for me something in the way of costume."
The stranger bowed, and wrapping Flossy care-
fully, carried her away. She felt sure from what
he had said that he knew her secret, and she
looked forward with curiosity to future events.
Many days passed before Flossy was unwrapped.
When she saw the light once more she knew she
was in Japan. She recognized the funnel-shaped
mountain of Fusiyama, which she had seen painted
upon so many fans, and the storks that the Japan-
ese are so fond of repeating in their decoration.
She was placed upon a square of matting in a little
booth, and the stranger had stretched before her
a tight rope. He was lighting some charcoal in a


brazier, and when it was well-ignited he spoke to
"Bubbling Teapot," he said, I have found you
at last. Know that I am the magician, your former
owner. Know that I have travelled in search of
you over two continents, and having found you I am
not likely to lose you again. For although it is in
your power, when a girl, by weeping to change your-
self into a teapot at any time when you are discon-
tented with your condition, you can only be changed
from a teapot to a girl again by being boiled over
a fire -and that I shall be careful not to do. Rise,
therefore, and dance upon the tight-rope as I taught
you to do in years past."
He ceased, and began beating a drum. Flossy
was frightened, but would neither move nor speak.
"Dance, obstinate teapot," commanded the ma-
gician, or I will place you over this brazier "
That is only an idle threat," Flossy replied, for
she found that she could speak, though only to the
magician and when he willed it; "for if you boil
me I will change into a girl."
If I boil you, yes but if I give you no water


but simply burn you, no. Will you dance or not ?"
Flossy rocked from side to side in an agony of
fear, and seeing that she made an attempt to obey
him, the magician poised her carefully upon the
tight-rope. Then tilting the teapot gently with his
finger he set it to swaying in time to his drum, and
alternately lifting either end of the rope he allowed
it to slide backward and forward. That will do,"
he said at length. I see you have not forgotten.
I shall take you to-night to perform before a rich
daimio. Dance your prettiest, or, by the great Ti
Fun, I will not only burn you, but break you to
Flossy travelled with the magician for many
months. They performed at the country fairs sur-
rounded by the populace and at the court of grand
personages. The children especially were glad to
see the performing teapot and in the children
Flossy was most interested. They were all grave
little creatures ; the girls especially seemed to have
little to make life happy except upon the Feast of
Dolls which occurred but once a year. It was
natural that the children of the poor should have


their privations, but Flossy was shocked when she
saw one delicate little girl, the daughter of a rich
daimio, submitted to cautery, or the torture of hav-
ing little pith cones burned upon her flesh for some
trifling pain, for which Flossy would have received
a dose of homeopathic medicine.
"I would not like to be a Japanese child, but
if I could see China," she said to herself, "I am
.sure that the mandarins' children there, and the
little princes and princesses have better times."
And strangely enough it happened that the ma-
gician was called upon to perform before a Chinese
lady of rank who was visiting in Japan. She was
the wife of a wealthy grandee as ugly as the horri-
ble two-toed dragons which were embroidered on his
robes as a sure proof of his rank and consequence;
but he was as kind and indulgent as he was ugly,
and his greatest happiness was to gratify the whims
of his beautiful wife.
Her name, which was a long one when translated,
signified "The Fair One, whose nails are transpar-
ent as fish scales, as long and curling as the tendrils
of the vine, and as exquisitely tinted as rose-leaves."


As this is rather too long a name to be mentioned
frequently, we will speak of her as The Long-
nailed Fair One. Her finger nails were indeed of
extraordinary length and were encased in beauti-
fully engraved silver shields. She was surrounded
with every luxury which Chinese art could execute.
The finest porcelain, the richest satins exquisitely
embroidered, elaborately carved teak-wood furni-
ture, lacquered ware and bronzes, vases of jade,
statues of ivory, perfumes and dainties, and beau-
tiful flowers filled the rooms of the palace, and yet
the pampered little lady was not happy. She had
lost a little daughter and since that bereavement
had fallen into a deep melancholy.
Her husband, hoping to distract her, had taken
her on a journey to Japan and here everything that
was curious or remarkable was shown her. She
had the finest singers and dancers among her
women, and everything that it was possible for
them to devise was done to enliven her spirits, but
all in vain. At last some one suggested the perform-
ing teapot, and the magician was introduced to her


She watched the motions of the magician with a
listless air, for she was familiar with the tricks of all
the Chinese jugglers and they had ceased to enter-
tain her. But Flossy was smitten with a sudden
love and pity for this beautiful, sad woman. If
I were only a little girl I would comfort her," she
thought; and as her daughter I would certainly
find the Child's Paradise." So she bobbed about
upon her rope in the most comical manner possible,
jerking so enthusiastically in time to the "tom
tom," of the drum, that the grand lady was inter-
ested in spite of herself. "I want the teapot for
my own," she said, as a spoiled child might have
done who was accustomed to have all it desired.
"Impossible," replied the magician hastily gath-
ering together his wares for departure.
I tell you I want it, and I will have it," the lady
cried in a high temper, and her slaves put the ma-
gician out of the palace without any more ceremony.
When the Mandarin, the husband of The Long-
nailed Fair One, heard the story he was indignant
that the magician should have refused to sell the
teapot; but he was also a little apprehensive lest,


as they were strangers in the country, the fellow
might prejudice the magistrates against them, and
he advised his wife to return immediately to Pekin.
They set out that very afternoon, travelling in jin-
riki-shas-a word which may be literally trans-
lated pull-man-cars; for they were carriages drawn
by men, and ferried over the rivers by elephant-
prowed boats drawn by strong swimmers. Through-
out the entire journey the lady held and caressed
the precious object which she had coveted and
stolen. Her ladies admired the teapot greatly and
discussed whether it was of Hizen, Satsuma, Kaga
or Kiyoto manufacture, without being able to settle
either the period or the factory in which it was
made. Almond Blossom, one of the ladies-in-wait-
ing, appointed to hold a gay umbrella over the head
of the Long-nailed Fair One was soundly scolded
if the teapot was exposed to the sun. Pheasant's
Eye, whose duty it was to fan the lady, was sent
from her presence in disgrace, because by an inad-
vertent movement she had nearly upset the new idol,
and Nightingale's Throat was kept constantly on
her knees before it as its especial guardian.


With all this care, it certainly was very inconsid-
erate and even ungrateful in Flossy to refuse to
dance for her kind owner; but great was that lady's
disappointment on her arrival in her own home to
find that none of them could make the teapot per-
form. Evidently the magic was in the magician and
not in the teapot, for when placed on a tight-rope
it merely fell off as an ordinary piece of porcelain
would have done and was only saved from destruc-
tion by being caught in the long sleeve of The Long-
nailed Fair One.
Since we can not make it perform," that lady
exclaimed in a high temper, it shall be degraded
to the offices of an ordinary teapot; and you,
Pheasant's Eye, may make me a cup of tea in it at
once, for I am quite fatigued with my exertions."
Flossy's delight at these words knew no bounds.
She had foreseen precisely what would happen and
this was why she had obstinately refused to dance,
Sand she could scarcely refrain from turning a
somersault for joy when Pheasant's Eye proceeded
to slowly fan the coals in the little chafing-dish, and
filled her with clear water. She did not even


shudder when placed over the fire, for the heat
caused her no pain but sent a warm thrill of pleas-
ure through her entire being. She seemed over-
flowing with merriment and began suddenly to
laugh heartily she was actually boiling the lid
flew up, and Pheasant's Eye shrieked so loudly that
the other ladies hobbled in as quickly as their lit-
tle deformed feet would permit; for the cloud of
steam which had issued suddenly from the teapot.
had condensed into a pretty little Chinese girl, and
the teapot itself had disappeared.



(Second Transformation.)

F LOSSY'S wish was now gratified; she was
the daughter of the Long-nailed Fair One,
her father a mandarin of the order of the Two-
toed Dragon.
The Chinese lady looked at her in rapture. "My
daughter!" she cried, "my own little Boo-hi-ski !"
There was a great deal more to the name, as there
was to the mother's. Fully translated, it signified
"The child with a balloon instead of a heart, which
causes her to soar above all human sorrow, and to
dance among the stars." For convenience's sake
we will designate the balloon-hearted child simply
as Hi Ski.
"My adored Hi Ski!" exclaimed the happy


mother, "have you indeed come back to me
again?" And the mandarin's wife threw her
arms around Flossy's neck and wept for joy; for
contrary to all Chinese tradition she had loved
her little daughter as well as if she had been a
son. The Chinese say,

When a son is born
He sleeps on a bed;
He is clothed in robes;
He plays with gems;
His cry is princely and loud I
But when a daughter is born
She sleeps on the ground;
She is clothed with a wrapper;
She plays with a tile;
She is incapable either of evil or good;
It is hers only to think of preparing wine and food,
And of not giving any occasion of grief to her parents.

The Two-toed Mandarin had a son, the child of
a former marriage; but the boy's mother was dead,
and the mandarin had married the Long-nailed
Fair One, and, although it was very improper of
him, he loved their little daughter Hi Ski quite as


well as his gem-wearing loud-crying son. Every
luxury which the Celestial Empire could furnish
was accordingly lavished upon Flossy whom both
parents supposed to be their lost daughter.
Their home was one of the elegant country-
houses near the great city of Pekin. It was built
in the light and airy Chinese style, with projecting
roofs gayly painted, and was surrounded with gar-
dens of blossoming quince, plum, pear, mulberry,
peach and other trees. Many of these fruit trees
had been dwarfed so that they grew in flower-pots
and seemed to Flossy too cunning for anything;"
and there were artificial lakes where gold fish
swam, and beside which queer birds stalked.
There were artificial mountains too, which did not
seem to Flossy quite as beautiful as the natural
hills of America, though they had been constructed
with infinite pains.
Everything was so new and curious that for a
time Flossy watched the life about her with inter-
est-the rice fields, the cultivation of the silk-
worms, the tea-gardens and opium farms; and when
they rode into town all the bustle and racket of


the dirty, disorderly city. She was taken to see
the great China wall, thirty-six feet high and forty
feet broad, which stretches away for over a thou-
sand miles to the north of the empire; a rampart
against the barbarian hordes. There were ramps
on the inside, so that cavalry could ride to the
summit, and six horsemen could pace abreast on
the top. The Buddhist temples interested her also
with their ugly idols and strange ceremonies. She
was very inquisitive to learn all she could about
the new religion, but was highly indignant when
told by her brother (whose name if literally trans-
lated would fill a page, but whom we may call
"for short," the Dragon-clawed, elephant-tusked,
lion-throated P Farer) that women had no souls.
No souls she exclaimed, then why must I
worship our ancestors, and burn incense before
the images?"
"Because," replied the Long-nailed Fair One,
"if you are very good you may be permitted to
be born again, and may then happen to be a boy
and have a soul."
"Ridiculous.! said Flossy.


Hi Ski said her mother reprovingly.
"I want to read about it," said Flossy, or go to
Sunday-school, and see if you are not mistaken."
I was carefully instructed in my youth," said
the Long-nailed Fair One; "more so than most Chi-
nese women. If you would like to learn to read
you may do so, though it is not customary for girls."
"Of course I want to read," Flossy replied. It
is very stupid to play all day by one's self, and I
want to read some fairy stories."
Flossy found learning to read in Chinese the
most difficult study she had ever attempted; but
she struggled bravely on, for in her own home
she was an insatiable reader of story-books. No
Paradise could be quite perfect to Flossy without
her Hans Andersen and Alice in Wonderland. She
missed them now vaguely, but in her transmi-
gration had forgotten just what they were. She
mastered the weary printed language a great deal
more rapidly than her stupid brother. The sepa-
rate characters for each word were very hard to
remember, and it did seem as if the Roarer forgot
one for every new one which he learned. He was


only expert in kite-flying, and had no love for
books, though he was given the best of instruc-
When Flossy had learned to read, she asked for
the most interesting book in the language, and her
expectations were quite high, for she remembered
that Mr. Rose had said that Aladdin was a Chinese
story. When her mother presented her with a
volume bound in gold brocade, called The Girls'
Book, and written by Tsau-ta-ku, ages ago, she
opened it eagerly. It began:

This girls' Classic is the instruction of a woman; let the
girls attend to it
Every day rise early at the fifth watch; do not sleep until
the sun is bright. With an old handkerchief cover up your
hair; go quickly and sweep the veranda. Brush your hair

Flossy had lost her fluffy blorde curls, and had
now very straight and coarse black hair which she
wore in shining bands oiled and perfumed with
great care, and decorated with flowers and great
hairpins as big as skewers.

_.. -.",i---- NM I



Wash your face clean; soon go into the hall and use your
needle. Depict the peacock; embroider the phoenix; work
the mandarin ducks.

This embroidery seemed at first great fun, but
Almond Blossom, who gave her lessons, was so
very particular, and so much shocked with her long
Kensington stitches, that Flossy at length voted the
peacock, the phoenix, and the mandarin ducks, the
most disagreeable birds in the world.

Do not laugh loudly, or call in a loud tone. When you
walk neither skip nor jump. At eight and nine you are grow-
ing older; you should love your elder and younger brothers,
and share with them your tea, rice, wine or meat; do not
quarrel if your part is less than theirs.

Flossy read this with some indignation. "Must I
give up everything to this stupid pig-tailed brother ?"
she said to herself. "When I was an American
child I used to hear Mrs. Rose tell Ruby that boys
were put into the world especially to be nice and
helpful to girls. Ruby was a lovely boy; he used
to carry my satchel to school, and let me stamp on
all his percussion caps when he had any to fire off
instead of.enjoying the noise himself."


The Roarer, Flossy's new brother, had been very
selfish with his fire-crackers and had even com-
plained because she was allowed to see the pro-
cession of the Feast of Lanterns.

At ten years old do not idle about, but diligently make
shoes or seams. Early and late sit with your mamma, and
do not leave the house without cause.
The first doctrine is that you must obey; the second good
thing is to respect your elder brother and his wife; the third
important thing is, do not waste rice or flour; be careful of
the soy, vinegar, oil and salt.

"Well, of all uninteresting books! exclaimed
Flossy. Haven't you anything more entertaining
than this?"
"No," replied her mother, that is the only book
I know of suitable for girls. I told you that it was
hardly worth your while to learn to read."
It would take too long to relate all the persecu-
tions which Flossy endured from her selfish brother;
suffice it to say that he fully availed himself of all
the advantages to which his sex entitled him. One
was the choice of dishes on the bill-of-fare. There
were many articles of food prepared in the Chinese


style of cookery which Flossy found very nice and
appetizing; for instance sponge cake stuck all over
with almond meats and moistened with milk, and
various marmalades and preserves; but there were
others which seemed to her disgusting. The Roarer
insisted on ordering every dinner, and he took a
malicious delight in leaving out the rice custards
and fruits which Flossy enjoyed, and insisting on
the messes which she could not eat. The following
was his favorite bill-of-fare rarely varied except by

Birds' nest Soup.
Ducks' feet Soup.
Puppies' Brains.
Sharks' Fins.
Roof of pig's mouth.
Mouse stew with bamboo sprouts.
Eels with onions and chutney.
Tea served in Chinese style.

This insufferable boy became more and more ex-
asperating every day; still Flossy might have borne
it but for another species of torture to which she
was subjected. The size of her daughter's feet


greatly distressed the Long-nailed Fair One, and
the ladies-in-waiting were instructed to bandage
them that they might be reduced to the fashiona-
ble size. Flossy was a brave little girl, and she
tried to bear the pain as best she might, but it
grew more and more intolerable. She could not
enjoy the beautiful gifts which her fond mother
was continually lavishing upon her, or the novel
sights which she saw from her elegant palanquin.
She envied the poor coolies who carried her, and
who planted their huge, flat-soled feet with such em-
phasis upon the pavement, while her own, swathed
in perfumed silk, racked her frame with pain.
At length she could endure it no longer. "This
is no Child's Paradise," she cried. I had rather
be an American girl and wear gingham instead of
crbpe and silver tissue." Her sorrowful wail ended
in violent sobbing, and Flossy found herself, muth
'(Third Transformation.)
to her surprise, not a teapot, as the magician had
told she would be if she wept, but restored to her
own original shape, seated in Mr. Rose's studio
with one foot fast asleep from having been curled


up beneath her. She sprang from the chair and
hopped about the room until circulation was fully
restored. Was it only a dream induced from her
uncomfortable position? She was inclined at first
to think so; but afterward when similar experi-
ences were renewed, she believed that some condi-
tion of the wonder-working charm was unfulfilled,
so that instead of passing into the teapot stage she
was restored at once to her old life.
The robe of many colors, which had at first ex-
cited her admiration and envy, lay upon the model-
stand beside the curious teapot, and Flossy gently
lifted the piece of porcelain to her cheek. "I won-
der whether it knows," she thought; whether it
is as glad to be it once more as I am to be I."
But Flossy was not altogether cured of her bad
habit of dissatisfaction. "I chose a bad country,"
she said to herself. If the magician had only car-
ried the Bubbling Teapot to some land where they
do not torture little girl's feet, and where dreadful
boys are not so highly esteemed, and the food not
so outrageous, I do not believe I would ever have
wished myself back again."


She slipped on the little Breton costume which
Mr. Rose wished to paint, and stretched her feet
luxuriously in the roomy sabots.
"If I had only been sensible enough to have
wished myself a French peasant," she thought; I
wonder whether it is too late now; I wonder where
Mr. Rose has gone, and why he does not come
back and finish his picture. That chateau is very
natural; he must have been painting on it while I
was asleep. How gray the sky is, like our Indian
summers, and what finely painted turkeys! You
can almost see them move."
While Flossy thought this, one of them actually
did move. A gallant gobbler, with a breast shin-
ing with iridescent metallic colors, gravely stepped
over the lower edge of the picture-frame and ap-
proached her with a dignified swinging stride.
Flossy felt her head turning dizzy; the whole
studio seemed circling round and then vanished
completely. She was seated on the grass in the
meadow, with the turkey looking her solemnly in
the face. The chateau with the gabled roof re-
mained clear and real above the trees of the park,


and the suit of clothes which she wore was the
same which Mr. Rose had lent her. She compre-
hended the situation at once; her wish.had been
granted and in this fourth transformation she had
become a Breton peasant child.

NOTE.--The two extracts from Chinese authors are taken from an ar-
ticle published in Life andLigklfor Woman, May, 1879.-L. W. C.



(Fourth Transformation.)

FLOSSY had only a vague idea of peasant life.
She had seen peasant costumes at a fancy-
dress party, and thought them pretty. She had
seen pictures of peasants at the exhibitions and in
books; the queer chairs with carved backs were so
picturesque, and even the clumsy kitchen utensils
were quaint and interesting, the copper and brass
shone so brightly in the dark backgrounds, and
the rough pottery was usually gaudily painted and
made bright spots on the dresser. Then the stories
which she had read and which Mr. Rose had told
her of enchanted forests and gnomes and trolls
were intimately connected with peasant-life and al-
together it seemed to her the most delightful thing


in the world to be a peasant; and of all peasantry
in the world surely that of France was the most
And now Flossy knew she was changed into
just such a little peasant. Her hair was tucked
under a queer little white cap. There was the blue
petticoat, and the full white sleeves, and the silver
necklace, the long knitted stockings and the wooden
sabots. They felt very comfortable, and Flossy
stretched herself lazily in the marguerite-starred
grass and laughed softly to herself for very joy.
This is very peculiar," she said to herself, but it
is also very nice. "I am sure I shall have no occasion
to cry here. This must be somewhere in Brittany,
for the landscape is similar to the sketches which
Mr. Rose made there. Now let me see what I know
about the country. I can just see how it looks on
the map; it is that port of France which juts out
into the Atlantic Ocean like a cat's head. It is
bounded on the west by the Atlantic Ocean, on the
north by the English Channel, on the east by the
provinces of Normandy, and Maine, on the south
by Anjou and Poitou and the Atlantic. Its principal


towns are, Brest and Morlaix and Vannes and
Saint something-or-other- I don't believe, however,
that any one here will examine me on the geography
of the country, and if they do I presume I know as
much about it as any of the inhabitants. I wonder
where I live. Perhaps in that chateau, for I don't
see any other house near. I think I will go and
Flossy accordingly climbed over the low stone
wall and walked through the great park toward the
chateau. It was filled with tall trees, dark and
gloomy, a real forest such as the grands seigneurs
of France reserved for their hunting-grounds. A
bridle-path appeared to lead in the direction of the
chateau, and she followed it until the pointed roof
and turrets appeared and she caught a glimpse
through an opening in the trees of a milk-white pony
standing on the terrace and of a little girl no taller
than herself in a green velvet dress coming down
the stone steps with a riding whip in hand. Then
a sudden turn in the road brought her face to face
with a poacher. She knew he was a poacher, for
he was cramming a rabbit into a gunning sack. He


started with fear when he heard Flossy's step upon
the dry leaves, but he seemed to recognize her face,
for his expression changed to one of ugly ma-
Why have you followed me, Babette ?" he asked.
"Go drive your turkeys home and never dare vent-
ure inside the park again. Do you think that you
are a grand lady,or that it was intended for poor peas-
ants such as we are ? "
Flossy obeyed humbly; something told her that
this unpleasant-looking man was her father for the
present, and though she did not like his appearance
she felt that it would be of no use to object to the
fact. She returned to the field, collected her turkeys,
and then was at a loss in which direction to drive
them. She determined to trust to their sagacity, and
as they started off at a good pace she followed them
until they stopped in the dooryard of a stone cot-
tage with a thatched roof. Flossy saw that this cot-
tage with the outbuildings picturesquely huddled
about it, would have made a pretty painting, but
that the yard was sloppy, the walls dirty, and it
was a very poor home indeed. A peasant woman,


with coarse hands but a kind face, was coming in
from the barn with two foaming pails of milk. Put
up the turkeys, little Babette," she said pleasantly;
" thou shall have thy cup of milk and crust of black
bread on the doorstep, and I will tell thee the story
of the Golden Basin." Flossy hastily penned her
turkeys, and taking her porringer sat down at the
woman's knee.
"It is by such stories as these, my cherished
one," her new mother said kindly, "that we poor
people keep up our hearts ay, and fill our stomachs.
Many is the time when I have had nothing to eat but
a crust of bread spiced with a nasturtion leaf, when
it seemed a sumptuous banquet for the stories that
my mother told me; and this story of the Golden
Basin was always my favorite.
"Once upon my time then, my little cabbage, a
thousand years ago and more, there lived a certain
Yvon, who had plenty of straw in his sabots." [This
was the good woman's way of expressing the fact
that Yvon was rich and lived comfortably.] "He
had also a beautiful daughter named Bella. Bella
had many suitors, but Yvon would say to all

/ r,, tI~,

I, '. .. ,.,.. ,, b

F. O S S I ,,A_ -. A S B A B E T T E"T H L IL ,TP. ,


fo them, 'Bella shall be the bride of the Golden
Basin. She is promised to the man who can carry
away from the castle of Kerivaro the basin which
changes everything with which it is filled to gold'
Many departed on this quest but none returned.
"One evening a young peasant, beautiful as an
angel and good as a saint, who was returning from
a pilgrimage sat down to rest on Yvon's doorstep.
He fell in love with Bella, like all the rest, and what
,was more to the purpose, Bella was equally-charmed
with him, and he departed in search of the basin
leaving her in tears. As the youth, whose name
was Lanik, journeyed, he noticed flying before him
a sky-blue pigeon, and following it he soon came in
sight of the towers of the castle. He trembled when
he saw that the walls were an hundred feet high, and
that perched upon the only gate stood a kdrrigan,
or hideous black dwarf, with one eye in the middle
of his forehead, and one in the back of his head,
and that this ugly creature held a long lance in his
hand. Lanik continued, however, to approach until
suddenly the lance of the dwarf darted out to such
a length that it nearly touched him. Petrified with


fright, Lanik stood still, but the blue pigeon began
to warble so gayly that the black dwarf's attention
was turned. The bird continued its singing, trill-
ing forth such a lively air that the dwarf began to
dance. Faster and faster piped the music and the
dwarf's legs fairly twinkled in time to it until, utterly
exhausted, he sank upon the rampart and fell asleep.
A huge bunch of keys dropped from his hand, the
lance clashed to the ground and its head rolled off.
Lanik picked up both, unlocked the gate and en-
tered the castle. He saw an immense court and in
the centre a three-headed dragon. The place was
strewn with the bones of those who had come in
search of the Golden Basin. Lanik threw the lance-
head at the dragon, who mistaking it for a cake
swallowed it instantly. Cold steel did not agree
with the creature's digestion and it fell to the ground
in the agonies of death. Lanik then went through
the castle finding no more terrors to test his bravery,
but tables spread with dainties, and heaps of glitter-
ing jeivels. He resisted all these temptations, seized
only the Golden Basin and darted out of the castle
without once looking behind. In the place where he


had left the blue pigeon he found a good fairy who
gave him her blessing and disappeared in a blue
cloud. Looking up he saw that the Castle of Keri-
varo had also disappeared, but the Golden Basin re-
mained, and Yvon was glad to receive it in exchange
for Bella whose heart proved a golden talisman to
her husband, and the love with which it was filled
a treasure more precious than jewels or gold."
It seemed to Flossy that she had listened many
an evening before to stories at this newv mother's
knee, of elves and korrigans and other enchanted
beings, while the kindly woman knit long gray
stockings from coarse yarn. Days passed, and she
learned to love the hard-working simple peasant
woman dearly, and most of all to love the twilight
hour when the turrets of the chateau were silhou-
etted darkly against the tender afterglow left by
the sunset, and she could almost discover the fairies
peeping at her through the dusk. There was John
Redthroat, the obliging bird, who helped little
Snowdrop through all her difficulties, the Queen of
the Pearl Islands who changed her lovers to fish,
the korils of the Fairy Copse who compelled be-


lated travellers to dance all night with them, and
enchanters with wands of witch-hazel. They were
all very real to Flossy; and sometimes after hear-
ing the wonderful.tales of the Cow of the Sea and
other bewitched animals, she would fancy that their
own black cow was a fairy in disguise and that she
might take hold of her tail and wish herself beyond
seas only to have the animal start off and swim over
to Jersey or Guernsey, or some other of the Channel
Islands, from whence it was possible her ancestors
had come in by-gone days. But when Flossy at-
tempted the spell, old Black kicked viciously, nar-
rowly missing Flossy's forehead and sending the
pail of foaming milk to grief. That was a sad ex-
periment, but Flossy's mother believed so thor-
oughly in enchantments herself that she did not chide
her litdl daighlter for the mishap. She told her a
new fairy story to c-.nsole her, of Barbaika the dairy-
maid of Morlaix, for whom the elves churned butter,
scoured milk-pans, baked bread, washed the churns,
covered the butter-pats with linen dipped in the
running brook, and left cherries on her platters and
gold pieces in her apron pockets. In return Bar-


baika was to set out a feast for the helpful fairies
in the barn. She did so; but out of pure malice
strewed hot cinders around the table which scorched
their feet almost to the bone. "And that is the
reason," said Flossy's mother, why elves come no
more to Brittany, for they went away singing:

Barbaika, the shrew,
The bad wife of Jegu,
By her wicked deceit
Burned our poor little feet,
So no more may we dwell
In the green fairy dell;
But we leave our black ban on the barn and the dairy
And we leave Barbaika the curse of the fairy."

Flossy wondered if she could coax the fairies
back by setting out a feast for them in their cow-shed,
but she was always so very hungry at mealtime that
it was hard to spare a c riiiib of the coarse black
bread. She did so one day, however; she covered
the milking-stool with a clean white kerchief, set
acorn cups and saucers upon it, with crumbs of
bread and a few small sweet strawberries. But the
greedy turkeys flew in through a little window and


devoured the supper; and Flossy never heard from
the elves.
Her mother was deeply religious as well as cred-
ulous, and knew many legends of the saints and
miraculous tales about the sacred image in the little
church, which Flossy found quite as interesting as
that of the good-natured elves who helped the dairy-
miids with their cheese. One day, the festival of
her patron saint, the good woman took her little
Babette on an excursion on the river Laitu.
The father had borrowed a boat for this trip and
had agreed to row them, but the temptation of the
cabaret, or low drinking shop, was too much for him
and he had slipped away to spend the day drinking
strong cider with his boon companions. The peasant
woman's arms were strong and muscular, and put-
ting Flossy in the stern with the basket of crepes, or
fried cakes, which were to serve as luncheon, she
Took the oars and sped away on the tranquil stream
to the ruins of the castle of the Comte deCommore.
They could trace only the foundations of the old
chateau with its four massive towers and its terrible
donjon. The fosse was overgrown with grass and


wild flowers, and Flossy frolicked in it and skipped
across it without the aid of a drawbridge. She looked
through a rusty grating into what must have once
been a dismal prison, and fancied she saw a ghost
flit through the darkness.
"It may well be," said her superstitious mother
crossing herself, "for this castle was one of the
residences of the famous Comte de Commore, the
terrible lord who murdered his wives, and made no
exception of Sainte Triphine, his last bride, who was
the sister of Saint Gildas and daughter of the Count
of Vannes."
It was really another version of Blue Beard, that
story which belongs to so many countries, but it
seemed like authentic history here beside the ruins
of the ancient castle. .*
After eating their luncheon they floated down the
river to the deserted monastery of St. Maurice, and
the mother's legends took on a still more gloomy
character. By the time they reached home the
towers of the chateau in the park were turned to
gold in the sunset glory. "And the people in the
chateau ?" Flossy asked.


Ah! those others. Their life is as different
from ours as that of the saints in Paradise," said
her mother meekly.
This fete-day had been an exceptional one for
Flossy and her mother. Not often were they allowed
a whole day's holiday. All through the heat of har-
vest they labored side by side in the fields begin-
ning at daybreak, and returning to their poor home
at night with heavy, baskets of potatoes. Some-
times they went to the seacoast and assisted the
men at the fisheries, coming home with heavy
loads of fish. Sturdy as Flossy's peasant mother
was this labor was too severe for her, and the day
came when she was too ill to rise from her misera-
ble bed. Flossy prepared the poor breakfast, and
waited upon her with ready alacrity, but when her
brutal father bade her clean the stable the spirit of
the American girl within her rebelled. That is
man's work," she replied, and you ought not to
compel me to do it."
"It is your mother's work," said the peasant,
"and if you will not do it for her, she must."
Flossy went to the stable burning with indigna-


tion. Women do not labor like this in America,"
she said to herself. "Is there no escape from this
horrible life?" She had forgotten that the way of
escape was a very simple one. She had only to
weep to become a teapot, and as a teapot only to boil
to become a girl. "If Iwere only the little girl at
the chateau," she thought, and then, as she saw no
friendly korrigan ready to assist her, she bent to
the disagreeable task. But she was only a sensitive
little girl after all; she felt the degradation of her
present employment more than the drudgery, and
forgetful of the spell which would turn her, if she
wept immediately, into a teapot, she burst into a
passion of weeping.
NoTr.--The Story of the Golden Basin is trandated from the French.
L. W. C.



(Fifth Transformation.)

W HEN Babette's hard-hearted father came to
seek her, he found only a pretty teapot
standing on a bundle of straw. How did this
come here, I wonder," he said to himself; and
fearing that some one might come in and answer
the question, he popped it into the cornbin. There
was to be a fair at Pont-Aven in a few days, and
he determined to carry it there and barter it for
something something which could be converted
into cider.
The f&te was a grand success. There were gayly-
decorated booths where gingerbread was sold in
great rolls covered with silver paper; there were
peepshows, puppet-shows, merry-go-rounds, and


footraces and games, and a pavilion for the dancers,
with two fiddlers; and there were mountebanks and
strolling actors, musicians, pedlers and every vari-
ety of the genus 'tramp. There was even an ori-
ental-looking juggler in a fez cap with a long tassel,
who called himself a pilgrim from Jerusalem, and
sold rosaries, which he said were made from olive-
wood from Gethsemane, and who performed mar-
vellous tricks with paper butterflies which he kept
in the. air with his fan. Babette's father stood be-
fore him a long time in open-mouthed admiration.
Tiens/" he said, "but that is beautiful. How
can he make those little beasts disappear and come
again ?"
The juggler noticed him and saw that he carried
something wrapped up under his blouse. "What
have you there, my friend? he asked.
Only a teapot which I wish to sell."
"A teapot! Let me see it."
With pleasure, Monsieur. Is it not adorable ?
Monsieur is doubtless from the East and a judge
of such things. If Monsieur will derange himself
to observe the ravishing colors."


Hold, you rascal! exclaimed the juggler. I
know that teapot well. You stole it out of my cart
when I camped last night in the dingle."
Babette's father turned pale. I call upon all
the saints to witness that I found it! I am no
thief, your worship."
"Get you gone," replied the other; "or I will
have the gensd'armes yonder arrest you." Bab-
ette's father, glad to get off so easily, retreated
hastily; and the magician-for it was indeed he
-bestowed the teapot among his wares, and as
hastily took his departure in an opposite direction.
Flossy's old life of performing now recom-
menced. The magician wandered down through
the south of France to Spain. He stopped at every
village and showed his tricks to the peasants, and
sometimes in the market places of great cities.
But Flossy did not find her life as a dancing tea-
pot as hard as it had been in Japan; the magician
was kinder to her, and among all the French chil-
dren who watched her bobbing upon the tight
rope, she saw none whom she envied. Her life as
Babette, the Breton peasant-child, had opened her


eyes. Since the fairies are all dead," she said to
herself, "I would rather be a teapot than a child
in France."
Through the ancient chateau-cities of Touraine;
Blois, Tours, and Chinon, through the qauint streets
of Orleans, Joan of Arc's town, across the vineyard
region to Bordeaux and the sands of La Manche,
they tramped and camped until they reached the
region of the Pyrenees. And now Flossy began to
look about her with more of interest. The mules
with their gay trappings and jingling bells, the
muleteers with their striped blankets worn so
jauntily, were picturesque, and so were the red-
capped goatherds who skipped as lightly as their
own kids among the chasms of the great mountain-
SBut now Flossy was not tempted to wish herself
a peasant of any nation. When I am a girl again,"
she thought, "I shall not choose poor parents.
Poverty may be very picturesque, but it is not com-
As they descended into Spain and visited the
wealthy and aristocratic cities of Burgos, Madrid,


Cordova and Seville, Flossy scanned the faces of
the stately old hidalgos and donnas, looking in
vain for a possible father and mother.
One hot and dusty day as the musician trudged
wearily through the long avenue which led to the
Alameda, a public square of Cordova, Flossy caught
sight of a face to which she lost her heart. A beau-
tiful lady reclined languidly in an open barouche.
She was dressed in the Spanish style, with a lace
veil over a high comb instead of Parisian bonnet,
a white rose was tucked coquettishly behind her
ear, her hair and lashes were very long and dark,
and she held gracefully an enormous fan. Her ex-
pression was so extremely sweet and gentle that
Flossy quite forgot she was only a teapot, and gave
a sudden leap which threw her out of the magi-
cian's pack and landed her in the dust of the high-
way. The magician walked on, not knowing that
he had lost his teapot, and Flossy hoped that the
lovely lady might notice her where she lay. Her
heart sank as the barouche rolled away, and an al-
most naked street boy picked her up and carried
her to his squalid home in the lowest part of the


city. The boy's mother exclaimed at the sight of
the treasure-trove. It is doubtless the work of
the Moors," she said; "none but the sorcerer
Moors could make an object so beautiful, and surely
no person save the Gran Caqitan can be rich
enough to own it."
We might sell it," suggested the boy.
"Surely, surely. Come with me, and we will go
to the dwelling of the alcayde; he will give us
good money for this lucky find."
The woman and her son proceeded to a large
stone house painted pink, with no windows toward
the street, but with a wrought iron gate in an
arched entrance which gave the passers-by a
glimpse of a beautiful court filled with oleanders
and jasmine, and watered by a tinkling fountain.
A portress admitted them to the presence of the
mistress of the house, a portly dame with spiral
love-locks plastered against her temples, and a dark
moustache on her upper lip. Dolores," said this
strange woman, "these people have a bit of bric-a-
brac to sell. Perhaps you would like to look at it."
Then, from a reclining chair by the side of the


fountain; rose the very same lady who had won
Flossy's heart in the Alameda.
What have you ? she asked in a silvery voice.
"It is a piece of porcelain of the, time of the
Moors," replied the boy's mother, "which my son
has dug up on the Guadalquivir back of the great
mosque, near the spot where the Khaliff Anasir
had his golden palace."
Santiago grant you pardon," said the boy. "I
did not find it there at all, but on the avenue lead-
ing to the Alameda."
Hold your tongue," exclaimed the mother
under her breath, while she proceeded volubly to
praise the workmanship of the teapot which she
declared resembled the best Moorish enamelled
work in the great mosque. Ascertaining her price,
the Lady Dolores purchased the teapot, saying that
it made little difference to her whether it were of
Moorish or Christian manufacture ; its own beauty
was sufficient recommendation. The lady was from
Madrid, and was only visiting in Andalusia. She
left the next day for Seville, and continued her
tour to Granada before returning to her home.


Everywhere in Southern Spain she was struck by
the Moorish remains, their wonderful metal-work
and porcelain, and above all their fairy architecture.
It was after a visit to the Giralda, or bell-tower of
Seville, that the lady deeply impressed with the
skill of the Moorish builder was about to refresh
herself with a cup of tea. The servants of the
house happened to be absent, and she decided to
make it herself. Those old Moors were certainly
magicians," she said to herself, as she filled the
teapot with water and placed it over the fire. "If
this teapot could speak, what stories it could tell
of ancient splendors, perhaps of Moorish sultans
and princesses who formerly inhabited this very
city. I wonder if the Giralda was once the home
of a Moorish princess. Oh thatit were so, and
that she might have been kept alive by some potent
spell, that I might see and speak with her."

(Sixth Transformation.)

As she finished speaking, the kettle boiled, or
rather exploded like a harmless bombshell, and
Flossy stood before her.


"Blessed St. Antonio!" exclaimed the Lady
Dolores. "Are you a Moorish princess?"
No," Flossy replied, "I am your little girl."
The lady shook her head doubtfully. But you
were a Moorish princess," she insisted.
"Perhaps so," Flossy replied; "I have been so
many persons, that I do not exactly remember.
At all events, I am your little girl now. What are
you going to call me ? "
"You are so very fair and white, you shall be
Bianca, my little Bianca."
The lady returned to Madrid with her foster
daughter. As they had no children of their own
her husband was very willing to adopt Flossy; but
they determined to keep between them the secret
of her magical appearance. "We do not know
how this experiment may turn out," they said to
themselves; we must have her regularly baptized,
and taught the catechism, in order to counteract
any wiles which the Evil One may be planning
against us."
The family, of which Flossy now found herself
a member, was a very noble one and numbered


many proud names, Mendoza-y-Diaz-y-Cortez-y-
Manzanilla, all linked together like a train of cars.
They lived in a tall house near the royal palace
and had a little country house toward the Escurial.
Here Flossy was always happy; for there were
gardens and a grange, and she could ride on the
back of El Campeador, the trusty old war horse
who had borne her father through the last cam-
paign against the Moors under General Prim, had
served later as carriage horse, but had been excused
from labor in the city on account of his age. El
Campeador had been a proud high-stepping steed
in his day, and.had drawn the cumbrous coach on
state occasions, prancing in step with his mate.
But the other carriage horse had died, and El Cam-
peador himself was past service and had been
turned out to graze. He was kindly disposed, how-
ever, had never grown vicious, and the children
were never afraid of venturing too near his heels.
He soon learned Flossy's voice, and would rest his
nose lovingly on her shoulder, and even thrust it
into her pocket in search of bonbons.
It was always a trial to Flossy when they left the


country, but her father and mother were frequently
required at court, for her mother was one of the
queen's ladies-in-waiting, and before her marriage
had been one of the noble young ladies selected
to the office of dressing the image of the Virgin at
the Atocha convent, the protectress of the royal
family. Flossy had seen this image, and thought it
a particularly ugly doll; but it had a wardrobe
which a queen might envy, for it was made up of
the coronation and bridal dresses of the different
queens of Spain. These robes had been shown her;
magnificent trained gowns of green velvet embroi-
dered with silver, maroon velvet covered with gold
lace, brocades of every color, milky satins loaded
with point lace dresses worn by all- the queens
of Spain from Isabella the Catholic, to little Mer-
cedes. There were two of this unfortunate child-
queen which touched Flossy most of all; one a
coronation robe embroidered with the arms of
Spain, the other a dainty blue silk of Worth's
manufacture, encrusted with pearls.
On festival days, the image promenaded the city
in a queer little pickle-jar chariot, which allowed


the common people to have a glimpse at her mag-
nificence through its glass doors. Flossy's mother
told her how it had been her privilege to dress the
image for these rides, and that one day the honor
would be her daughter's. Flossy had a little girl's
love of dolls, and though she did not think the
virgin as pretty as any of the thirty-six dolls which
she left in her American home, she still thought it
would be great sport to dress it in the royal gowns.
One day there was a royal christening at the
convent of Atocha and Flossy was present; and
though it was the grandest ceremonial which she
saw while in Spain, the pomp and parade wearied
her extremely. It had been arranged for her to
return to her own home after the baptism with her
nurse, for her parents were going to the palace;
but in the confusion of departure she was sepa-
rated from the waiting-woman who, concluding that
her master and mistress had changed their mind
and carried the little Bianca to the palace with
them, returned to the city without her. Flossy,
when she missed the nurse, waited for her near
the tomb of General Prim; but the entire congre-


gati6n passed out and she was left quite alone.
Then when she attempted to leave the chapel she
found, to her dismay, that the door was locked.
She did not cry as another child might have done,
but looked about, trying to ascertain how she
might make the best of circumstances. The vir-
gin gazed at her from her elevated position above
the high altar, and Flossy thought that if she could
ever get her down it would be pleasant-to pass
away the time by dressing her. She wandered
into the vestry and found, to her delight, that one
of the wardrobes was unlocked. There was a
step-ladder here too, and a long pole used in light-
ing the altar candles. These Flossy laboriously
dragged into the chapel, and thus succeeded in
gaining possession of the virgin. Then how the
hours flew by! It seemed to Flossy that she had
the very best time that afternoon that she had
enjoyed in any of her transformations. She
dressed and undressed the image, over and over
again. She even dressed herself in a robe once
worn by'Blanche of Castile, and played house with
the virgin in the wardrobe.

ij : (I~ ) 'r' prr~-




At last," said Flossy," I have found the Child's
Paradise. It is in Spain, and I am having lovely
Alas! for Flossy. At that very moment the sac-
ristan entered the room and discovered her at her
play. He turned green with rage and horror and,
seizing Flossy by the shoulders, shook her until
she was dizzy.
"What is your name, sacrilegious one ?" he
asked, when quite weary of shaking her.
"Flossy Tangleskein," the child replied when
she could catch her breath.
"Zangalzagein! I know the names of every
Madrid family -there is none such in all Spain."
"I beg your pardon, sir. I forgot. I have had
so many different names, and you shook me so
that it mixed me up. Let me see what is it this
time Babette? Hi-ski? No. Oh! I remember.
Bianca Mendoza-y-Diaz-y-Cortez-y-Manzanilla."
Flossy was hustled home in disgrace. Her
father was deeply mortified, and her mother
shocked and grieved. The affair would have
created a great scandal had not the sacristan been


bribed to silence. Donna Dolores and her hus-
band had a long and serious talk together about
their foster child. Dolores was convinced that
Flossy's pagan nature, as a Moorish princess, was
beginning to assert itself; and she trembled for her
future behavior. "And yet, I cannot give her up
to the Church, as I fear me I ought to do," she
said sadly. "It is true that the holy office of the
Inquisition is abolished, and Mother Church is
more tender to her erring children than formerly;
but it might be thought best that Bianca should
adopt a religious life, and I cannot part with my
little girl, for I have learned to love her very
"Then there is only one thing left to be done;
she must be kept out of sight for the present. We
cannot have her bring disgrace and scandal upon
our family in this way. She must go to the grange,
and be brought up there in strict seclusion."
When this announcement was made to Flossy,
she could have clapped her hands for joy, had it
not been for the distress which she saw in her
kind mother's face.


"You will come to me often, mamma dear, will
you not ?" she begged, and I will be very good,
will study and mind my governess, and try hard
not to grieve you."
"Sweet one," replied Donna Dolores, "I an,
afflicted only because you will have so little to
amuse you at the grange."
"I shall be very happy, mamma dear, for El
Campeador will be there and I shall learn to ride
him. He lets me climb to his back by pulling my-
self up by his mane, and is so gentle and loving."
"You shall have El Campeador for your own,
my angel, and I will send out a little blue velvet
saddle with you. It is decided that you are to go
to-morrow after the bull-fight. I have begged that
you may remain to see that beautiful spectacle.
It would be too heart-rending that you should lose
all the festivals in honor of the christening."
"Is the bull-fight so very splendid, mamma ? "
"Ah! my sweet one, it is ravishing! the music
and the prancing horses, the velvet suits of the
ficadores, the banderillos all laced in gold, with
satin suits and curled hair, the terrible bulls paw-


ing the earth, bellowing, rushing upon their tor-
mentors Ah! but it is heavenly "
The next day Flossy attended the bull-fight. It
seemed to her that all Madrid went with her; for
the long road from the city to the amphitheatre
was crowded with vehicles of every sort--the ele-
gant coaches and barouches of the noble and
wealthy, loaded omnibuses bearing people of the
middle class, and every description of cart, dray
and wagon that could be devised to go on wheels.
While those too poor to afford a ride trudged
through the dust on foot. The bull-ring was open
to the sky, the seats of the spectators circling it
as in a circus. Only those of the upper classes
were shielded from the sun by awnings; but every
one wore their best, and the ladies in their bright
dresses made bouquets of rose-color, yellow, blue
and vivid crimson, while fans moved incessantly
like a flock of restless butterflies.
Presently there was a fanfare of trumpets, and
the triumphal entry of the performers took place.
This part of the spectaC-ie was very brilliant and
imposing. Flossy's eyes sparkled with excitement.


She did not enjoy so much the next act, where
a furious bull was teased and badgered bypica.
does; but when an agile banderillo a young man
dressed in light green satin embroidered with
silver, and further enriched with a rose-colored
sash -performed a number of reckless feats be-
fore the very nose of the infuriated animal, she
could not help admiring his intrepidity and quick
and graceful movement. Each time that the bull
would lunge toward him he would leap aside,
throwing a little dart decorated with ribbons at his
neck, until the poor creature became an animated
pincushion. Finally the matador despatched the
animal with a single stroke of a long sword, and
the body was dragged from the arena by mules
covered with gay trappings and jingling bells.
Flossy shuddered at this, but the band struck up
a gay selection from the Barber of Seville, and the
same programme was repeated with a new bull.
*He was an ugly animal, brindled and long-
horned, with small vicious eyes; and in the very
first round he killed two horses, mangling them
horribly. Flossy hid her eyes, quite sick with


disgust, and her father tried to comfort her, say-
ing that the horses were wornout hacks, not good
for anything.
"Oh how can they treat them so cruelly, when
they have spent their lives in faithful service?"
Flossy cried. "Only think of El Campeador!
How would you like to see him treated so !"
SAt that instant one of the picadores who had
been dismounted entered on a fresh horse. He
was old like the others, and slightly lame; but he
snorted when he heard the martial music and tried
to curvet as he had done at other ceremonials.
"Only see that poor creature !" cried the child.
"They have bandaged his eyes, and he does not
know that he is riding to his death, for he trusts
to his master. See what a long silky mane and
tail-just like El Campeador, father. Mother it
is El Campeador! And she shrieked aloud.
It is impossible," exclaimed Donna Dolores.
"No," replied the father, "it is quite true. The
steward wrote me a few days ago that he had been
offered a handsome sum for him by the picadores,
and I wrote him to accept it, for it was much more


than we could hope to realize for him in any other
way. He would die soon- what does it matter ?"
As he spoke, the bull approached the picador
warily, and Flossy screamed louder than before in
apprehension. She was sure that the horse recog-
nized her voice, for he wheeled partly around and
neighed joyfully. Then the bull made a sudden
lunge, and horse and rider rolled upon the ground.
Donna Dolores rose to lead her sobbing daugh-
ter from the ring; but as she turned to take her
hand it seemed to her that Flossy must have
slipped out before her, for the child was gone.
She hurried after her and sought her in the crowd
outside, but she was nowhere to be seen.
The janitor of the ring who dusted the seats and
picked up the scattered cigarettes, programmes
and flowers, afterward found a curious teapot in
the stall which the family had occupied; but as
no inquiries had been made for it, he did not
trouble his conscience to seek for its owner.



(Seventh Transformation.)

THE janitor of the bull-ring carried the teapot
home to his wife Inez, who thought it a great
deal too fine to make tea in, and set it before her
image of St. James to be used as a benitiek- a holy
water can.
There it stood until one day a wild-eyed woman
entered the house. The room happened to be va-
cant; and the gypsy looked around quickly, the
teapot caught her eye, and she had stepped for-
ward with outstretched hand when Inez, hearing
her footfall, entered, and both women looked at
each other with dislike and suspicion. The gypsy
was the first to speak. She assumed a wheedling
manner and her voice was insinuating in its tone:


" May the blessing of the Zincali await you, beauti-
ful lady, and may you have pity on the poor wan-
derer who has nothing but her wisdom to read the
future, and who does not envy you the high fortune
which she sees in store for you. No, though the
next time we meet the dust of your ladyship's car-
riage will be whirled in the face of the poor fortune-
Inez, who had never ridden in anything more aris-
tocratic than a calte-pedler's cart, was consumed
with delight and curiosity.
"How much do you ask for telling-the future ?"
she inquired. "I have only a few reals."
"0 beautiful lady, do not hesitate on account of
the cost. I will tell your ventura out of love and
admiration for your sweet face, and you will give
me in return any old scraps of rags or second-hand
crockery which you may like to rid yourself of. Lis-
ten, fair lady; you are on the verge of unexpected
wealth. Your husband is about to be promoted to
a post of great honor. He will also discover a hid-
den treasure, and will clothe you in cloth of gold
and jewels, and this will come true in four moons."


"When will he find this treasure ? "
It is buried deep under ground in a place which
is daily trodden by hundreds of feet."
"Yes," thought Inez, "under the entrance of the
"It must be dug for at dead of night, yourself
holding the lantern. Now for this beautiful fortune
what will my noble lady give me ? Some castaway
dresses and this trumpery teapot which takes up the
place of the elegant silver vase which you will find
in the buried treasure ?" The gypsy strode to the
mantel and placed her hand on the teapot.
"Leave that, woman," Inez cried so determinedly
that her hand fell. I will give it to you when we
have found the vase, not one moment before."
"When people achieve success they forget the
friends of their obscurity. You will give me some-
what now for the good fortune, or I will lay on you
the spell of the evil eye."
She looked malign enough to be able to do this;
and Inez under her stout exterior trembled.
She furtively crossed herself, and taking from her
bosom a small purse at the conclusion of the ges-


ture, handed the gypsy a silver coin. "Begone,"
she exclaimed, "I have wasted too much time in
listening to you already."
A black look came over the gypsy's face, but
she caught the shadow of a cocked hat on the floor
and knew that a member of the military guard was
sauntering past. Accordingly she thrust the coin
among her rags and slunk away.
That night Inez and her husband hurried to the
bull-ring as the gypsy well knew that they would,
the one bearing a lantern and the other a spade.
They had hardly vanished around the corner when
three shadowy forms darted from as many recessed
doorways, and the little house was entered.
"There is the teapot," said the gypsy. "I am
convinced that it is the same one which the strange
brother from over-seas told us to search for and
secure for him."
One of the men seized it, saying,. "It is full of
treasure most likely. We will divide the booty and
swear that when we found it it was empty. Hold
your hands, both of you."
The others clustered closely about, and the man


overturned the teapot. They darted back as they
felt the involuntary baptism. "Bah !" exclaimed
the woman, "it is what the Busne call holy water,
it will do us a mischief most likely unless we
repeat some strong spell against it. Let us hasten
from the house."
So frightened were they by this accident that they
did not wait to make other thefts, but hurried away
with all speed possible, mounting their donkeys
just outside the city and taking the road to the
south. They travelled all night, and two days
after they reached the gypsy quarter of Granada
in the cliffs back of the Alhambra. Little did hei
gypsy captors suspect that this teapot was a meta-
morphosed little American girl who had read a
great deal of sentimental nonsense about the de-
lights of gypsy life and was very glad to observe it
in disguise.
Flossy found the gypsy quarter a very queer
place'. The almost perpendicular cliffs were honey-
combed with caves, in front of which narrow paths
went zig-zagging up and down. Donkeys and mules
were frequently stabled in caves whose further re-


cesses were occupied by their owners. Many of the
caverns were lit up by lurid fires, for blacksmithing
is a favorite gypsy trade. Hordes of half or wholly
naked children scampered like goats up and down
the steep paths.
The cave in which Flossy found herself was at
once a blacksmith shop and an inn. The woman
who had stolen the teapot was assigned a corner
where she slept with her head on a pack-saddle.
The family merely rented rooms, their guests go-
ing out for their meals, by which term we may ex-
press the begging excursions which furnished them
One day it inevitably happened that the magical
teapot was placed to boil over the blacksmith's
forge, and when the woman looked to see if it were
ready she was terrified to find that it had disap-
peared. "It has melted I" she shrieked; "it has
been consumed in the fire. Now when the Strange
Brother comes from his journeying in the land of
the Moor, I cannot give it to him and claim my re-
ward. Woe betide the day that I ventured under
this roof."


She continued her lamentations but did not no-
tice that the horde of little black-eyed gypsy chil-

(Eighth Transformation.)

dren counted one more. Flossy stood among the
others, a little bewildered by the suddenness of
the change, but outwardly quite like the rest, a
brown-skinned child with straight coarse hair, clad
a little more extravagantly than her brothers and
sisters since she wore a white chemise, a blue
flannel petticoat, and a pair of gold earrings, while
among the seven other children only five garments
were distributed.
"Who are you?" the woman of the house
asked, as Flossy presented herself when the con-
tents of the begging bag were divided. Flossy was
silent, for she did not as yet know her name, and
one of the children said, "She must be Katinka,
the daughter of the woman who died last night."
"Then," said the mother, I will not turn you
off. Go and beg, and as long as you bring me
each night your gains you may sleep with the


"I shall not do that," Flossy thought to herself,
"if I can find any other place to sleep."
Leaving the cave she mounted to the top of the cliff.
There was a church here, and behind the church,
streets. She strolled through them leisurely, some-
times stopping to examine a wayside shrine or to
pick up a bright bit of broken tile from the debris
behind the Alhambra-wall. In the course of her
wanderings she came at last to the great Gate of
Justice, the entrance to the Alhambra. She came
to know the place better as time passed, but at
present she wondered, as any other untutored
child would have done, at the red brick tower
with the horseshoe-shaped portal. She descended
to the city of Granada and wandered through the
market-place, growing more hungry as she went,
but not once begging or complaining. A fruit-
seller noticing her wistful face threw her a slice of
melon, and this was all her dinner. Days passed
by of which this was the type. She was hungry
often, she underwent many hardships, but she
was perfectly free to wander where she pleased,
the climate was delicious, and when she did not


care to go home she slept out of doors, and was
on the whole as happy a little wild animal as ever
burrowed in the thicket.
One day she entered the Alhambra, slipping
by the guard while he flirted with a pretty Spanish
girl. The beauty of this wonderful palace of the
Moors surprised and enchanted her. There were
courts with fountains, long colonnades of arches
decorated with brilliant colors, mosaic pavements
of beautiful patterns, and fairy domes opening into
each other like clustered soapbubbles.
Some dim memory was awakened by the sight.
It seemed to Flossy that she had heard or read of
this place before. An American artist was sketch-
ing the Fountain of Lions and she ventured near
enough to peep at his picture. He was not alone,
for a lady seated beside him was reading aloud
from Washington Irving's Tales of the Alkambra.
Flossy listened to a story of a Moorish Princess
who lived in a tower, and heard the artist and his
wife discuss which of the towers of the Alhambra
was probably meant. They looked up, the one
from the story, the other from the painting, and






noticed her. Each made an exclamation. "I
must put her in this sketch," said the artist; and
he asked Flossy if she would pose for him. The
sum he offered seemed immense to her gypsy
ideas and she readily took the required position.
The lady read many stories during the days that
followed, for Flossy still continued to pose for the
artist. He painted her with tambourine or casta-
nets; dancing, resting, in a number of different
Flossy's foster-mother was delighted with the
silver coin which she brought every evening, and
Flossy herself became more and more interested
in the stories.
"If I had only been born a Moorish Princess! "
she thought to herself, and then she remembered
that her Spanish mother believed that she was one
in disguise.
When she returned to her cave home she inter-
ested her foster-brothers and sisters by telling
them the tales which she had heard, and the older
people gathered about her, listening as well.
Flossy concluded one marvelous story with the


somewhat startling remark: "And I know that all
this can be true, for I also am a Moorish Princess."
A dead silence followed the assertion. Look-
ing up she saw that her foster-mother was squint-
ing horribly, the blacksmith was also squinting,
and every child, down to the youngest baby, rolled
its eyes in an unnatural and disagreeable manner.
"Will your Moorish Mightiness condescend to
descend to the river and fetch me a jar of water?"
said the old crone with a mocking leer..
Give me a necklace of pearls, Princess ?" said
one of the girls.
"A scimitar with a jewelled hilt," cried the
eldest boy. While those who could not compre-
hend what the jeering was about, still joined in it,
thrusting out their tongues and pointing at her
derisively. Only the blacksmith refrained, and as
she took up the heavy earthen water-pot and
stumbled down the hill to the river, he turned to
his wife with the remark: Have a care what you
say; what she says may be true."
"Idiot, have you taken leave of your senses?"
"No more than yourself, my beautiful one.


But do you remember the Strange Brother who
was in our company a year agone, he of the Dar-
Bushi-Fal, who came to us travelling out of the
Land of the Moors?"
Remember him, have I not cause to do so?
It was he who told us of the precious teapot hid-
den somewhere in Spain and set my cousin wild
to search for the same, which being found'brought
us only ill luck."
Know then, that the stranger is no true Roma
(gypsy) though he spoke our language, but a
Moor of the sect of Sidi Hamed au Muza, and for
aught I know a descendant of the very kings who
once reigned in the Alhambra."
"And if that be so, brother, what has it to do
with the child Katinka ?"
"The woman who died and left her was also of
the Dar-Bushi-Fal, travelling out of the land of the
Moors. The child is like the stranger. I believe
that she is his daughter."
"It is likely, brother, your guess is a shrewd
"Did the woman leave no clothing, or orna-


ments, anything by which the guess might be
She brought no bundles with her. Her
money, which was considerable, I claimed for her
burial. There was a key fastened about her neck
by a cord which I have preserved, but I know not
what manner of door it opens."
The woman brought the key and the man ex-
amined it curiously. He was enough of an expert
in metal-work to know that this was no ordinary
key. It was large, of curious shape, and damas-
cened upon it in gold was an Arabic sentence.
"I have heard," said the man, "that when the
Moors were driven out of this land by the Chris-
tians they carried the keys of their houses with
them. This poor woman had brought hers back
but died before she was permitted to enter. Give
it to her, daughter; she wanders about the Alham-
bra daily. Tell her to try every door, and to tell
us when she finds one which it will open."
Flossy took the key, but she determined that.
she would not tell her gypsy parents if she made
any extraordinary discoveries.


The next day it happened that the reading was
about the unfortunate Prince Boabdil. It was
from the Tower of the Seven Floors," said the lady
as she closed the book, "that he left the Alhai i-
bra when obliged to surrender it to Ferdinand and
Isabella. He is said to have requested that no
one should be permitted to pass through that gate-
way after him, and it was walled up by Ferdinand.
Our hotel backs against the tower and the owner
has torn down the brick wall which was so senti-
mentally built. The door of the gateway remains
and opens into the hotel garden. I have asked
the landlord to let me have the tower fitted up as
a studio for the rest of the season."
Flossy's curiosity was excited. She was sure
that the key would open this door, and one day
when she had been asked to visit the new studio,
she had an opportunity to try the lock. She found
her suspicions true. The gypsies had asked her
from time to time of her success, and to stimulate
her efforts had told her the entire story, so that
when the key turned back the massive bolt in
Boabdil's door the conviction came upon Flossy


that she was not a gypsy but, as she had wished,
a real Moorish Pri Icess. And yet what was the
gain? Even if she could prove her descent straight
from the great Muley Abul Hassan, she was a
Moorish Princess of the year of grace 18- and
not of the old and splendid day of which she had
heard. Evidently the charm of which she had the
benefit had no power to roll back the wheels of
time, but could only transport her from country to
country and give her an experience of the life
which now is. To be a Moorish Princess to-day
in the Alhambra was exactly equivalent to being
a barefooted gypsy. She wondered whether it
would not be better in Morocco, the land of the
Moor. If the Stranger Brother of the Dar-Bushi-
Fal would arrive some night and take her with
him to Barbary, perhaps in the royal gardens of
Fez she might find the Child's Paradise.
She had finished her posing for the day as she
thought this, and was leaving the Tower of the
Seven Floors by Boabdil's Gate, when she saw a
strange-looking man peering through the hotel
entrance into the garden. He was dressed some-


thing like a gypsy, but his complexion was lighter
and instead of the broad sombrero he wore a
voluminous turban. Flossy approached him fear-
lessly, but in the shadow of the entrance he caught
her arm.
Give it to me," he said in a hoarse whisper, I
saw it in your hand, do not deny it."
Flossy handed him the coin which she had just
received and tried to wrench herself from his
grasp, but he held her wrist tightly.
That is not what I mean," he said. Give me
the key. Those English have plenty of money;
there is no reason why they should not share it
with us. I am your father Hamet au Muza, and
I will take you to the land of the Moor, but first
we will despoil these Christians."
"No, father," Flossy cried bravely; "they have
been good to me and you must not rob them."
Her remonstrance was useless. The man's grasp
closed on the key. I will not let go," the child
cried; "if you kill me I will not let go. Help!
help! The man loosened his hold on the key
and placed his hand over her mouth. Flossy felt


the uselessness of her resistance and burst into
tears. It was her best defense.

(Ninth Transformation.)

Key and child vanished and the astonished man
found himself holding a small porcelain teapot.



THE magician, for it was really he, was very
much surprised at receiving his teapot in
this remarkable manner, for he had not recognized
Flossy in the Gypsy child. He was as pleased as
he was astonished. "Bubbling Teapot!" he cried,
" I would rather have thee again than all the treas-
ure which the Christian artist may have hidden in
that tower. We will journey into the Land of the
Moor, 0 precious teapot! and there you shall
vault and tumble and dance upon the tight-rope
before sheiks and pashaws and we will get gain,
and your renown shall be' published throughout
the entire land even from Mogadore to Timbuc-
too and the uttermost parts of the Soudan."
The magician was as good as his word. They
crossed the Strait of Gibraltar and Flossy found

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