ands of poor
cats who would have thought _her_ life quite luxurious. It is a very
bad thing to get unsettled; it sets people wishing and doing many
foolish things.

One fine bright evening, the magpie was perched upon a projecting
bough of her oak, and the cat, who thought the cottage particularly
dull that day, had come out for a little gossip.

'Good evening!' screamed the magpie, as soon as she saw her; 'do come
up here and let us talk politics a little.' So the cat climbed up, and
seated herself on another bough a little below.

'You look out of spirits to-day;' began the magpie, bending down a
very inquisitive eye to her friend's face; I am afraid you are not
well; but I'm not surprised: that old sparrow I saw you eating for
dinner must have been as tough as leather; it is no wonder you are ill
after it! You should really be more careful, and only catch the nice
tender young ones.'

'Thank you,' replied the cat, in a rather melancholy tone; 'I am
perfectly well.'

'Then what in the world ails you, my dear friend?'

'I don't know,' answered the cat; 'but I believe I am getting rather
tired of staying here all my life.'

'Ah!' exclaimed the magpie, 'I know what that is--I feel for you,
puss! you may well be moped, living in that stupid cottage all day.
You are not like myself, now; _I_ have had such advantages! I declare
to you I can amuse myself the whole day with the recollection of the
wonderful things I have seen when I lived in the great world.'

'There it is!' interrupted the cat; 'to think of the difference in
people's situations! Just compare my condition, in this wretched hole
of a hut, with the life that you say the countess's cat lives. I'm
sure I can hardly eat my sop in the morning for thinking of her
buttered crumpets--dear! dear! it's a fine thing to be born in a
palace!'

'Indeed,' replied the magpie, 'there is a great deal of truth in what
you say; and sometimes I half repent of having retired from her
service myself; but there's a great charm in liberty--it is pleasant
to feel able to fly about wherever one likes, and have no impertinent
questions asked.'

'Does the countess's cat ever do any work?' inquired puss.

'Not a bit,' answered the magpie. 'I don't suppose she ever caught a
mouse in her life; why should she? She has plenty to eat and drink,
and nothing to do but to sleep or play all day long.'

'What a life!' ejaculated the cat; 'and here am I, obliged to take the
trouble t