rabbits burrowed, and pheasants and partridges, with many other smaller
birds, inhabited the fields and woods.

Through his wonderful spectacles the Prince could see everything; but,
as I said, it was a silent picture; he was too high up to catch anything
except a faint murmur, which only aroused his anxiety to hear more.

"I have as good as two pairs of eyes," he thought. "I wonder if my
godmother would give me a second pair of ears."

Scarcely had he spoken than he found lying on his lap the most curious
little parcel, all done up in silvery paper. And it contained--what do
you think? Actually a pair of silver ears, which, when he tried them on,
fitted so exactly over his own that he hardly felt them, except for the
difference they made in his hearing.

There is something which we listen to daily and never notice. I mean
the sounds of the visible world, animate and inanimate. Winds blowing,
waters flowing, trees stirring, insects whirring (dear me! I am quite
unconsciously writing rhyme), with the various cries of birds and
beasts,--lowing cattle, bleating sheep, grunting pigs, and cackling
hens,--all the infinite discords that somehow or other make a beautiful
harmony.

We hear this, and are so accustomed to it that we think nothing of it;
but Prince Dolor, who had lived all his days in the dead silence of
Hopeless Tower, heard it for the first time. And oh! if you had seen his
face.

He listened, listened, as if he could never have done listening. And he