Piccolissima | Page 4

as I have, and think it as
pretty, they will not regret that I have preferred it to any thing I could
write for them.
Mademoiselle Montgolfier says in her preface to the little book,
"Notwithstanding the fanciful character of this story, it is, in fact,
simply a little lesson in Natural History," and that "she would engage
for the truth of all that Piccolissima relates of the manners and customs
of the insects with whom she makes acquaintance."
It may also interest our young, and, perhaps, our more advanced
readers, to know, that Mademoiselle Montgolfier is the daughter of the
celebrated Montgolfier who invented balloons, and made the first
ascension. I had, when in France, the pleasure of seeing this very
interesting lady, and know her affection for children; and I am sure that
it will please her to know that her tiny naturalist is welcomed by the
American children. I therefore feel a particular pleasure in introducing
the wonderfully small Piccolissima to their acquaintance, and
recommending her to their affectionate regard.
E. L. F.
BROOKLINE, October, 1857.

PICCOLISSIMA.
Piccolissima was descended on the father's side from the famous Tom
Thumb, so well known to all children. On the mother's side, her lineage
was no less distinguished. Mignonette Littlepin (this was the family
name of Madam Tom Thumb) was the great granddaughter of the
wonderful Princess, who once lodged in a spectacle case, out of which
she came so splendidly attired that the brilliancy of her little person
illuminated all surrounding objects. A trustworthy biographer tells us
that nothing occurred in the history of Mr. and Mrs. Tom Thumb to
disgrace their illustrious parentage, and they were considered none the
less good citizens because they were rather smaller than other people.
In the mean while, however, our humble couple became suddenly
celebrated by the birth of our heroine; this small creature was so
delicate, so exquisite, so pretty, and so lively and full of spirit, that
from the age of two years she became the object of general admiration.

She was not more than one inch in height, and her mother, who had
prepared the cradle and baby linen for a child of the usual size, was
puzzled to know what to do. Finally, the half of a cocoanut shell, lined,
and furnished with soft cushions of thistle down, made a good bed for
the little wonder; and the nursery maid, wife of a neighboring
clockmaker, and a person of ingenuity, conceived the admirable idea of
suspending the cocoanut cradle from the pendulum of a great clock, in
order that the infant might be rocked all the time. Madam Tom Thumb
was enchanted with the invention. She adhered to the old-fashioned
notions, and could not suppose it possible that her little one could sleep
without rocking. What the good little mother found the most trouble
from, in the extreme smallness and delicacy of the limbs of her
new-born doll baby, was the impossibility of swathing and dressing it.
So she was forced to resign herself to doing as the birds do, and bring
up her little one on a bed of moss and down. She hardly dared to put
upon the little arm, smaller than her own little finger, a little shift made
of the fine white skin of the inside of an eggshell. The boots of the little
one had soles cut out of the inside husks of the corn; a poppy leaf made
her an ample bonnet. The spider's web which the dew whitens, and the
wind winds up in balls, seemed too coarse too weave her sheets with,
and the cup of an acorn was big enough for Piccolissima. Her parents
obtained all her wardrobe, and all the small furniture for her use from
those thousands of skilful laborers, so adroit, and yet of whom we think
so little, who hide themselves in all the walls, in the leaves of the trees
turned up like horns, under the bark of the trees; in short, that are found
in all the corners and crevices of creation.
Mr. and Mrs. Tom Thumb were not people who could be astonished.
Simple themselves, every thing appeared simple to them. Mrs.
Mignonette was at first a little disconcerted at finding that a drawer of
baby linen which she had taken so much pains to make was of no use,
and that one of the stockings which she had knit was big enough for her
child to get into. But, when she was convinced that the baby could do
just as well without stockings, and that the cushions of thistle down
were sufficient to keep it warm, she was no longer troubled, and she
said to her neighbors, who were eager to see her little wonder, "It is
very natural that the