The boat sailed on, but the Rat swam after it in pursuit! Ha! how he gnashed his teeth, and shouted to the bits of straw and wood floating on the stream, "Catch him! hold him! He hasn't paid toll- he hasn't shown his passport!'

But the stream became stronger and stronger. The Tin Soldier could see the bright daylight where the arch ended, and he heard a roaring noise which might have frightened a bolder man. Only think just where the tunnel ended, the drain ran into a great canal; and for the Soldier that was as dangerous as it would be for us to be carried over a huge waterfall. He was so near it he could not stop; he only stiffened himself as much as he could, and no one could say he moved an eyelid. The boat whirled round three or four times, and filled with water to its very edge, the paper loosened more and more, deeper and deeper sank the little craft, and the waves closed over the Soldier's head. He thought of the pretty little Dancer, whom he should never see again, and in his ears sounded the refrain:

"Farewell, farewell, thou warrior brave.
For this day thou must die!"

With that the paper parted and the Tin Soldier fell out, but was instantly snapped up by a great fish. Oh, how dark it was in the fish's body!

THE HARDY TIN SOLDIER

39

darker than in the drain, and then it was so narrow. But the Tin Soldier remained unmoved, and lay at full length, shouldering his musket.

The fish swam to and fro, he made the most wonderful movements, and then became quite still. At last something flashed through him like lightning. The daylight shone quite clear, and a voice said aloud, "The Tin Soldier!" The fish had been caught, carried to market, bought, and taken into the kitchen, where the cook cut him open with a large knife. She picked up the Soldier and carried him into the sitting room, where all were anxious to see the remarkable man who had traveled about inside a fish. The Tin Soldier was not at all proud as she set him on a table. What strange things may happen in the world! The Tin Soldier found himself in his old home, he saw the same children, the same toys on the table, and the pretty castle with the graceful little Dancer. There she stood, still balancing herself on one leg with her arms outstretched. That moved the Tin Soldier; he very nearly wept tin tears, but that would not have been becoming in a warrior. looked at her, but they said nothing.

He

Then one of the little boys took the Tin Soldier and flung him into the stove. Nobody knew why he did this; it must have been the work of the

The Tin Soldier stood there quite illumined and felt a heat that was terrible; but whether this heat was caused by the real fire or by love he did not know. The colors had quite gone off from him; but whether that had happened in the journey or had been caused by grief no one could say. He looked at the Little Lady, and she looked at him. He felt that he was melting, but he stood firm, shouldering his musket. Then suddenly the door of the room flew open, the draught of air caught the Dancer, and she flew like a sylph right into the stove to the Tin Soldier, flashed up in a flame and was gone in a second. Then the Tin Soldier melted down into a lump, and when the servant-maid took the ashes out next day she found him in the shape of a little tin heart. But of the Dancer nothing remained but the tinsel rose, and that was burned as black as a coal.

hardy brave, enduring.

somersault: a spring in which a person turns heels over

head.

Goblin: a malicious fairy; an imaginary being who likes to make trouble.

swirled whirled about.

passport: a pass issued by the government granting permission to the bearer to travel.

sylph an imaginary being inhabiting the air.

2. SONGS

By Charles Kingsley

CHARLES KINGSLEY (June 12, 1819-Jan. 23, 1875) was a clergyman who rose to distinction in the Church and at the University, but whose admirers know him best as rector of Eversley, a parish in Hampshire. There he lived for thirty-three years, caring for his people and writing books which had great influence upon the public questions of his day. He was of a kindly nature, always ready to help the needy and defend the oppressed, and was courageous in attacking public wrongs. Kingsley's reputation as a writer rests chiefly upon his novels " Hypatia" and "Westward Ho," which con

tain some of the most beautiful pieces of description in our language. As a poet he wrote little, although he had not only skill in writing verse but genuine power to touch the heart. "The Three Fishers" and "The Sands of Dee," which have been set to music, are his best-known ballads, but the songs which follow have quite as much charm in a simple manner. The first two are from "Water Babies," a delightful tale written for children.

I. THE SONG OF MADAME DO-AS-YOU-WOULD-BE

I

DONE-BY

ONCE had a sweet little doll, dears,

The prettiest doll in the world;

Her cheeks were so red and so white, dears,

And her hair was so charmingly curled.

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FOURTH READER

But I lost my poor little doll, dears,
As I played in the heath one day;
And I cried for her more than a week, dears,
But I never could find where she lay.

I found my poor little doll, dears,
As I played in the heath one day:
Folks say she is terribly changed, dears,
For her paint is all washed away,
And her arm trodden off by the cow, dears,
And her hair not the least bit curled :
Yet for old sake's sake, she is still, dears,
The prettiest doll in the world.

II. THE OLD, OLD SONG

HEN all the world is young, lad,

WHEN

And all the trees are green;

And every goose a swan, lad,

And every lass a queen;

Then hey for boot and horse, lad,

And round the world away;
Young blood must have its course, lad,

And every dog his day.