elm, and sycamore trees, and the baby again tripped against the root
of one of them, and fell; and his little hand came against a stone,
and he was much hurt, and his heart beat, and the tears streamed down
one of the prettiest little faces that ever was seen, and the wind
blew his pretty hair off his forehead, and it would go to your very
heart to hear his little mournful cry, calling out for his mamma, his
own dear mamma.

[Illustration: ]

At length, the moon arose in great splendour, and little Henry saw at
a distance an old abbey, all covered with ivy, and looking so dark and
dismal, it would frighten any one from going in. But Henry's little
heart, occupied by the idea of his mamma, and with grief that he could
not find her, felt no fear; but walking in, he saw a cell in the
corner that looked like a baby-house, and, with Fidelle by his side,
he bent his little steps towards it, and seating himself on a stone,
he leaned his pretty head against the old wall, and fell fast asleep.

[Illustration:]

Overcome with fatigue, the sweet baby slept soundly till morning; but
when he awoke Fidelle was gone, and he felt very hungry. And he again
set up his little cry, "Oh, mamma! mamma! where is you, mamma? Oh! I
want my breakfast! I want my breakfast!" At length, he spied Fidelle
cantering in with something in her mouth, and having laid it by
Henry's side, she darted out of the abbey. Henry took it up: it was a
large piece of white bread, which the faithful creature had met with
somewhere, and brought to her little favourite.[1]