The banker asked him some more questions, and finished by presenting him with a hundred crowns, bidding him keep them carefully, and use them in time of need. The cobbler fancied himself possessed of the wealth of the world; he took his treasure home and buried it, and with it he buried his happiness. His singing no longer disturbed his rich neighbour; all day the cobbler's eye wandered in the direction of his treasure; at night he could not sleep; if a stray cat did but make a noise, it was some one coming to rob him. At last the poor man ran to the house of the banker-" Here," he cried, "take your hundred crowns, and give me back sleep and my voice."

THE END.

Joseph Rickerby, Printer, Sherbourn Lane, King William Street, City.