visited a great metropolis--have wandered through its network of streets--lost ourselves in its crowds of people--looked up at its tall rows of houses, its grand public buildings, churches, and squares. Also, perhaps, we have peeped into its miserable little back alleys, where dirty children play in gutters all day and half the night--even young boys go about picking pockets, with nobody to tell them it is wrong except the policeman, and he simply takes them off to prison. And all this wretchedness is close behind the grandeur--like the two sides of the leaf of a book.

An awful sight is a large city, seen any how from any where. But, suppose you were to see it from the upper air, where, with your eyes and ears open, you could take in everything at once? What would it look like? How would you feel about it? I hardly know myself. Do you?Prince Dolor had need to be a king--that is, a boy with a kingly nature--to be able to stand such a sight without being utterly overcome. But he was very much bewildered--as bewildered as a blind person who is suddenly made to see.
He gazed down on the city below him, and then put his hand over his eyes. "I can't bear to look at it, it is so beautiful--so dreadful. And I don't understand it--not one bit. There is nobody to tell me about it. I wish I had somebody to speak to." "Do you? Then pray speak to me. I was always considered good at conversation."
The voice that squeaked out this reply was an excellent imitation of the human one, though it came only from a bird. No lark this time, however, but a great black and white creature that flew into the cloak, and began walking round and round on the edge of it with a dignified stride, one foot before the other, like any unfeathered biped you could name.
"I haven't the honor of your acquaintance, sir," said the boy politely. "Ma'am, if you please. I am a mother bird, and my name is Mag, and I shall be happy to tell you everything you want to know. For I know a great deal; and I enjoy talking. My family is of great antiquity; we have built in this palace for hundreds--that is to say, dozens of years. I am intimately acquainted with the king, the queen, and the little princes and princesses--also the maids of honor, and all the inhabitants of the city. I talk a good deal, but I always talk sense, and I daresay I should be exceedingly useful to a poor little ignorant boy like you."
"I am a prince," said the other gently. "All right. And I am a magpie. You will find me a most respectable bird."
"I have no doubt of it," was the polite answer--though he thought in his own mind that Mag must have a very good opinion of herself. But she was a lady and a stranger, so of course he was civil to her. She settled herself at his elbow, and 

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