"Ah!" said Gluck, aloud, after he had looked at it for a while, "if that river were really all gold, what a nice thing it would be!"

"No, it wouldn't, Gluck," said a clear, metallic voice close at his ear.

"Bless me! what's that?" exclaimed Gluck, jumping up. There was nobody to be seen. He looked round the room and under the table, and a great many times behind him, but there was certainly nobody there, and he sat down again at the window. This time he didn't speak, but he couldn't help thinking again that it would be very convenient if the river were really all gold.

"Not at all, my boy," said the voice, louder than before.

He

"Bless me!" said Gluck again, "what is that?" looked again into all the corners and cupboards and then began turning round and round as fast as he could in the middle of the room, thinking that there was somebody behind him, when the same voice struck again on his ear. It was singing now, very merrily, "Lala-lira-la;" no words, only a soft, running melody, something like that of a kettle on the boil. Gluck looked out of the window. No, it was certainly in the house. Upstairs and downstairs. No, it was certainly in that very room, coming in quicker time and clearer notes every moment, "Lalalira-la."

All at once it struck Gluck that it sounded nearer the

furnace. He ran to the opening and looked in; yes, he heard aright—it seemed to be coming, not only out of the furnace, but out of the pot. He uncovered it and ran back in a great fright, for the pot was certainly singing! He stood in the farthest corner of the room with his hands up and his mouth open for a minute or two, when the singing stopped and the voice became clear and distinct. "Hollo!" said the voice.

Gluck made no answer.

"Hollo, Gluck, my boy," said the pot again.

Gluck summoned all his energies, walked straight up to the crucible, drew it out of the furnace, and looked in. The gold was all melted, and its surface was as smooth and polished as a river; but instead of reflecting little Gluck's head as he looked in, he saw meeting his glance from beneath the gold the red nose and sharp eyes of his old friend of the mug, a thousand times redder and sharper than ever he had seen them in his life.

"Come, Gluck, my boy," said the voice out of the pot again, "I'm all right; pour me out!"

But Gluck was too much astonished to do anything of the kind.

"Pour me out, I say!" said the voice, rather gruffly. Still Gluck couldn't move.

"Will you pour me out?" said the voice, passionately. "I'm too hot."

By a violent effort, Gluck recovered the use of his

limbs, took hold of the crucible, and sloped it so as to pour out the gold. But instead of a liquid stream there came out first a pair of little yellow legs, then some coat-tails, then a pair of arms stuck akimbo, and finally the wellknown head of his friend the mug- all of which articles, uniting as they rolled out, stood up energetically on the floor in the shape of a little golden dwarf about a foot and a half high.

"That's right!" said the dwarf, stretching out first his legs and then his arms, and then shaking his head up and down, and as far round as it would go, for five minutes without stopping, apparently with the view of ascertaining if he were quite correctly put together, while Gluck stood looking at him in speechless amazement.

He was dressed in a slashed doublet of spun gold, so fine in its texture that the prismatic colors gleamed over it as if on a surface of mother-of-pearl; and over this brilliant doublet his hair and beard fell full halfway to the ground in waving curls so exquisitely delicate that Gluck could hardly tell where they ended- they seemed to melt into the air. The features of the face, however, were rather coarse, slightly inclining to coppery in complexion. When the dwarf had finished his self-examination, he fixed his small, sharp eyes full on Gluck, and stared at him for a minute or two.

"No, it wouldn't, Gluck, my boy," said the little man. This was certainly rather an abrupt manner of com

mencing conversation. It might indeed be supposed to refer to the course of Gluck's thoughts, which had first produced the dwarf's observations out of the melting-pot; but whatever it referred to, Gluck was not inclined to dispute it.

"Wouldn't it, sir?" said Gluck, very mildly indeed. "No," said the dwarf; "no, it wouldn't." And with that the dwarf pulled his cap hard over his eyes, and took two turns, of three feet long, up and down the room, lifting his legs very high, and setting them down very hard. This pause gave time for Gluck to collect his thoughts a little, and seeing no great reason to view his diminutive visitor with dread, and feeling his curiosity overcome his great amazement, he ventured on a question of peculiar delicacy.

"Pray, sir," said Gluck, rather hesitatingly, "were you my mug?"

On which the little man turned sharp round, walked straight up to Gluck, and drew himself up to his full height. "I," said the little man, "am the King of the Golden River."

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Whereupon he turned about and took two more turns some six feet long. After which he again walked up to Gluck and stood still, as if expecting some comment on his communication.

Gluck determined to say something, at all events. "I hope your Majesty is very well," he stammered.