ave been exceedingly happy,
could he have forgotten that he was originally a man and a king. He
was lodged most elegantly, had the richest of collars to adorn his
neck, and heard himself praised continually. But his beauty rather
brought him into trouble, for the queen, afraid lest he might grow too
large for a pet, took advice of dog-doctors, who ordered that he
should be fed entirely upon bread, and that very sparingly; so poor
Cherry was sometimes nearly starved.

One day, when they gave him his crust for breakfast, a fancy seized
him to go and eat it in the palace-garden; so he took the bread in his
mouth, and trotted away towards a stream which he knew, and where he
sometimes stopped to drink. But instead of the stream he saw a
splendid palace, glittering with gold and precious stones. Entering
the doors was a crowd of men and women, magnificently dressed; and
within there was singing and dancing, and good cheer of all sorts.
Yet, however grandly and gaily the people went in, Cherry noticed that
those who came out were pale, thin, ragged, half-naked, covered with
wounds and sores. Some of them dropped dead at once; others dragged
themselves on a little way and then lay down, dying of hunger, and
vainly begged a morsel of bread from others who were entering in--who
never took the least notice of them.

Cherry perceived one woman, who was trying feebly to gather and eat
some green herbs. "Poor thing!" said he to himself; "I know what it is
to be hungry, and I want my breakfast badly enough; but still it will
not kill me to wait till dinner-time, and my crust may save the life
of this poor woman."

So the little dog ran up to her, and dropped his bread at her feet;
she picked it up, and ate it with avidity. Soon she looked quite
recovered, and Cherry, delighted, was trotting back again to his
kennel, when he heard loud cries, and saw a young girl dragged by
four men to the door of the palace, which they were trying to compel
her to enter. Oh, how he wished himself a monster again, as when he
slew the tiger!--for the young girl was no other than his beloved
Zelia. Alas! what could a poor little dog do to defend her? But he ran
forward and barked at the men, and bit their heels, until at last they
chased him away with heavy blows. And then he lay down outside the
palace-door, determined to watch and see what had become of Zelia.

Conscience pricked him now. "What!" thought he, "I am furious against
these wicked men