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TAILOR was sitting on his table at the window one summer morning. He was a_ good fellow, and stitched with all his might. A peasant woman came down the street, crying, ‘Good jam for sale! good jam for sale!’

This had a pleasant sound in the Tailor’s ears; he put his pale face out of the window, and cried, ‘You ’ll find a sale for your wares up here, good Woman.’

The Woman went up the three steps to the Tailor, with the heavy basket on her head, and he made her unpack all her pots. He examined them all, lifted them up, smelt them, and at last said, ‘The jam seems good; weigh me out four ounces, good Woman, and should it come over the quarter pound, it will be all the same to me.’

The Woman, who had hoped for a better sale, gave him what he asked for, but went away cross, and grumbling to herself.

‘That jam will be a blessing to me,’ cried the Tailor; ‘it will give me strength and power.’ He brought his bread out of the cupboard, cut a whole slice, and spread the jam on it. ‘It won’t be a bitter morsel,’ said he, ‘but I will finish this waistcoat before I stick my teeth into it.’

He put the bread down by his side, and went on with his sewing, but in his joy the stitches got bigger and bigger. The smell of the jam rose to the wall, where the flies were clustered in swarms, and tempted them to come down, and they settled on the jam in masses.

‘Ah! who invited you?’ cried the Tailor, chasing away his unbidden guests. But the flies, who did not understand